#also the lights in here need to stop flickering thank you
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hey Noel, Claire, since it's getting a bit chilly now, i thought you'd like some warm jumpers! i dont draw faces traditionally a right lot, but i think you two turned out okay
oh wow! those are so good!
agreed, very cute too
they look so snug and comfy, i almost want to get one for myself
eh heh, thank you for taking the time to draw these for us
it turned out more than alright
yes, thank you!!
#for the coloured text claire is blue and noel is purple#ACE ART ACE ART ACE ART ACE ART#very tempted to do my usual over analytical art comments in the tags#hmm maybe hmmm screw it#i really like the way you coloured the hair to almost give it a texture reminiscent of your rendering#and the line work sketchy yet very clean in pronounced#it's cool how the pink outlines and the black border give it a finished feel if you will#also the lights in here need to stop flickering thank you#the last part was completely unrelated#witch's heart#answered ask#claire elford#noel levine#claire posting#noel posting#casualyttdfandomer
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Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️
❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡
𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．
𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.
．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning
．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday
#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”
。no literally
。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire.
。“oops, you caught me.”
。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in.
。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go.
。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone.
。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for.
。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.
“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.
how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.
the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.
“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.
when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.
“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.
#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself
。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre
。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs.
。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this.
。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either.
。“please, love. now im quite offended.”
。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks.
。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good.
。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.”
。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork.
。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.
STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.
you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.
“what…?”
his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.
“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”
sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.
“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“
“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.
you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.
“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”
your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.
“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.
#𐙚．。articles#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail smut#sunday x reader#hsr smut#honkai star rail yandere#sunday smut#sunday x you#aventurine smut#aventurine x reader#hsr x reader#yandere hsr#yes I only write for these two at this point
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No Need to Apply
Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam
Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.
It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.
Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.
Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.
In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air.
He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.”
Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”
Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”
It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.
He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears.
Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.
Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole.
He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right?
He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control.
Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.
The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom.
His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view.
He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.
He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.
He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.
Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent.
Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.
Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?
He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at.
Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.
If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!
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The Perfect Life || CL16 {2}
Summary: Charles finally gets to see the person his brother was proud to call his best friend, and in doing so realises he has some amendments to make.
Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm
WC: 2.4k
One || Two || Three
It was foolish to think the Leclerc’s would just leave you alone. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that Arthur stopped your door from closing but you did frown when his brother followed him inside your humble abode.
It was dim inside, with only shafts of starlight coming in from the missing tiles above. You walked blindly through the sparse furniture to the fuse box and pulled the lever down, flooding the room with flickering fluorescent light. “Not quite up to your standard?” you challenged Charles with a daring arch of your brow.
Arthur detoured to the small alcove that was once the factory staff room kitchen and grabbed two beers from the fridge that whined loudly to maintain its temperature. You immediately pressed your bottle to your cheek and moaned as the cold seeped into the bruised skin. Letting the makeshift ice pack do its job, you dropped onto the couch, avoiding the wayward springs that jutted out and tried to snag your clothes, and watched Charles walk around the cavernous room.
“This place is a dump,” he stated. He inspected the bed that consisted of a mattress thrown over pallets that had been abandoned inside the factory before eying up the punching bag that hung from the open rafters.
“If you’re only staying to insult me, just go.” The exhaustion in your voice came from deep inside your soul and even Charles paused at the sound.
You hated how he turned his inspection on to you instead. His eyes followed the length of your legs and you tucked your knees up under the hoodie, but then he finally noticed you had been barefoot the entire night.
“Pack your shit, let’s go.”
You closed your eyes and tipped your head onto Arthur’s shoulder. “I liked him more when he ignored me.”
“I’m not going to tell you again,” Charles growled as he swiped your beer bottle from your face.
“Charles, have you ever been beaten unconscious?”
“No.”
“Unless you want to find out how it feels, give me my fucking beer back.” You didn’t even open your eyes to see if the threat was taken seriously but then the cold touch of the bottle in your palm was an answer enough. “Thank you.”
“You can’t stay here,” he said calmly. “Pack your things, or I can buy whatever you need in Monaco.”
“I am not marrying you.” The beer was cheap and left a bitter aftertaste but you used it to smother the hot anger that was quickly starting to bubble in your gut. “Twenty minutes ago you would have let me risk being mugged while I walked home and probably asked for popcorn too while you watched.”
The old recliner you found at a secondhand store squeaked under Charles’ weight as he took a seat and said, “I don’t like popcorn.” You cracked an eye open to see amusement gracing on his face. “I also picked you up, didn’t I?”
“Wow, pick a girl up once and expect her to marry you.”
Arthur snorted a laugh. “I offered first.”
“Maybe you two can fight it out for my hand.” Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you tipped your head to Charles. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you land on your ass again.”
“It was a cheap shot.”
“Are you gonna let him disrespect you like that?” you asked as you nudged your friend.
“I’m not hitting him again,” Arthur grumbled. “It really hurt.”
“Oh, so not out of concern for me, thanks little brother.”
“She did warn you to shut up but you had to keep running your mouth.” Arthur looked at his brother’s lip but it wasn’t all that swollen thankfully. “Please don’t tell ma.”
“I can do your makeup,” you offered to Charles with a smirk. “I’m actually pretty good at covering up bruises now.”
Charles' eyes turned down and he shook his head as he felt guilty for how he had treated you over the years.
“I don’t want your fucking pity,” you snapped. “Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy.”
An awkward silence grew until you growled in the back of your throat and rose from the couch. “Tur, can you lock up when you leave?”
“Where are you going?”
You made your way to the ‘bedroom’ and pulled on a pair of riding leathers, not bothering with the jacket since you were comfortable and warm in the hoodie. “Home. I have to get ready for a charity brunch in Marseille.”
Charles watched curiously as you unlocked a thick padlock to what he thought was just a storage locker. Those green eyes widened when you swung your leg over the seat of the sleek Honda motorbike and grabbed your helmet that hung on the handlebars.
“You let her ride that?”
Arthur shrugged and finished his beer. “One: I’m not her keeper. Two: she has a licence. And three: you’re an idiot if you think anyone has a say in what she does.”
“You’re her friend, you should stop her from getting herself killed.”
“I am right here,” you reminded him. “I love the vote of confidence you have in me, by the way, really endearing.”
Whatever he was about to say was silenced when you clicked the remote for the roller door, kicked the bike stand back and turned the ignition on. The roar of the engine was deafening in the space and you slapped the shade down on your helmet before shooting out of your sanctuary.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Charles warned his brother.
Arthur nodded as he got up and dropped his empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah, I figured that. Let me just lock up real quick then we can go.”
Charles watched as Arthur walked around the room like it was a routine chore he was used to doing. He hit the button on the wall to close the roller door before checking the windows were locked. He turned the phone charger off beside her bed and slipped the cash he had in his wallet under her pillow.
“She won’t accept it otherwise,” he said over her shoulder. “She doesn’t want charity, Cha. Your plan isn’t going to work unless you change your approach.”
“What do you mean?”
“Offering to buy her things. She won’t take it. Everything here was earned the hard way, independently.”
Arthur could see Charles was absorbing the information and already a plan was forming in his mind.
—
“You look beautiful.”
The stem of the champagne flute in your fingers was nearly snapped when Charles startled you and you turned to find him in a tailored suit, the jacket left unbuttoned. “What are you doing here?”
“There aren’t that many charity events in Marseille today. I thought I would make an appearance, it’s good for the image.”
“What a humble philanthropist you are,” you said with a roll of your eyes while he scanned your face for any sign of the bruising from the night before. “Told you I was good.”
“You could be a professional.”
A waiter passed by and you swapped your empty flute for a full one while Charles grabbed one of his own. Already you could see the inquisitive looks cast in your direction and knew they would only grow the longer Charles spoke to you. Not wanting to be the focus of the gossip mill you took a step away from him, ready to make your escape.
“I have a proposal.”
“Christ, not this again.” You stepped toe to toe with him so as not to be overheard when you hissed. “I’m not marrying you.”
“Not that kind of proposal,” he chuckled. “Arthur tells me you are quite good at fighting.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering where he was going with it, but nodded confidently. “I am.”
“I have a team of security, but they struggle with the female fans when they get a bit too aggressive.”
“You think having a woman throw them down is more…polite?”
He winced and shook his head but it wasn’t very convincing. “I hope it doesn’t come to that but the guys aren’t very comfortable with the idea.”
“You do realise my father is never going to let me leave Nice to work for you, right? That would not fit the image of his social standing.”
“I know. Now before you shut it down completely, just hear me out.” He paused and you immediately knew you were going to regret even listening to him. “You work for me, secretly, but we tell your father we are engaged.”
“No, no, absolutely not,” you hissed. “Argh, you said this wasn’t a proposal.”
“It’s not, well, it’s a fake one so there’s no suspicion why you are always with me. No one will know you work for me, but I’ll pay you well. You can have new bank accounts in your name that your father can’t access. When you have saved up enough money to live on your own then we can break off the engagement and you will have your freedom.”
“I-”
“Don’t give me an answer now, just think about it, okay?”
You turned on your heel and left the stately rooftop garden. The sun was suddenly too warm and the laughter of conversation seemed to mock you personally as you passed by. It would only be a matter of minutes before your father’s assistant came looking for you but you would take every second of freedom that could.
You got exactly 97 seconds before the bathroom door swung open and Veronica sighed. “You don’t have a scheduled bathroom break until 11.”
“Too much bubbly,” you lied as you tossed the damp hand towel into the basket. It hadn’t even helped to cool your burning neck so you mentally pulled yourself back together and followed the wretched human back out to the event.
Veronica clasped her personalised diary full of notes behind her back as she nodded her head to a portly man ahead. “Mr Henri Cartier, two sons, wife - Charisse, $3 billion profit.”
You plastered a smile back on your face and approached with all the confidence that your father had trained you to fake. “Mr Cartier, how lovely to see you again. How is Charisse? It is a shame she can’t be here today.”
You zoned out as he started to recall how his wife had flown to London in their Lear as their sons had an important polo match. Cambridge versus Oxford, naturally. It obviously wasn’t important enough since he would rather be shaking hands with this lot instead of watching the game. “…the King himself will be there.”
“Ah, but this is France, we have no King,” you teased. “We take care of our own people. Now, a little birdy told me your business had a remarkable turnover this quarter. I hope to see a reflection of that in your donation.”
The Forbes billionaire laughed haughtily. “Of course, my dear. What else would I do with all the excess?”
You opened your mouth to list off all the other purchases he would rather spend his money on but a slick voice eased into the conversation.
“How many superyachts can one man own?” your father asked. “I’ll tell you, Henri, it’s the same thing I say when my wife makes her famous cannoli - there’s always room for one more.”
The two men laughed way harder than the joke called for, but the real joke was the fact that your mother had never stepped foot in a kitchen.
“It’s a wonder your charity survives with that advice,” you said as you took a step back and let them pick out the shortcomings of their children, and your entire generation, together. You pretended that you didn’t hear them and let the passive blank face fall into place until a hand took yours and pulled you away.
Veronica’s hand lifted to alert your father to your absence but you took the rescue that Charles offered and trailed behind him, losing sight of the assistant in the crowd.
“Well that was uncomfortable to watch,” he murmured in your ear. It concerned Charles at how quickly you had fallen into the charismatic charade he was accustomed to as he watched. He had hated how comfortable you were at these events, and how you charmed everyone you spoke to. He never realised it was all an act, and that the real person behind the whimsical smile was an intelligent, and abused, woman. “I don’t think I have heard so many variations for the word ‘useless’,” he continued.
Charles was right, your father had used them all in his complaints about you. Henri’s response about his children was equally cold, ‘but at least you only have the one weed in your garden.’
“I’m convinced he reads the thesaurus to find new insults for me.”
“That’s so messed up.” This time he didn’t aim the words at you and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. It was easier to think of him as the asshole you had come to know for the last decade.
“Welcome to my life.”
Charles slowed his pace for you down the stairs but you were used to moving deftly in high heels and raced ahead, tugging his hand to hurry up. A smile grew on his face until you reached the last step that exited the venue and breathed in the salty breeze blowing in from the sea across the street.
“My offer still stands,” he said as the valet quickly brought his car around and he took a step off the curb. “You’re not scared, are you?”
Charles smirked as your eyes narrowed and you took a step closer. “Why are you suddenly so interested in helping me?”
The valet opened the passenger door for you and Charles faced you from over the roof of the black sports car. “Get in and find out.”
Your eyes traced the white and red stripe that ran along the car before looking back at the entrance. The choices weren’t overly appetising but you sighed and ducked down into the low seat, tucking the tail of the gown in before the valet closed the door.
“Don’t make me regret this, Leclerc.”
Part Three.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic
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hiii !! i was wondering can you do a fic where rafe comes and picks the reader up from a girls night out and she’s super drunk? tyy!
girls just wanna have fun (rafe cameron x fem!reader)
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
warnings: feel bad for y/n and fluff (a little bit of psycho rafe at the end!?)
summary: after a rogue night at the boneyard you are in desperate need of comfort from your knight in shining armour - rafe cameron.
a/n: i am still trying to be more active while school is picking up but please bare with me :)
word count: 773
join my new taglist here!
Rafe pulled up to the Boneyard with a sigh. He was no stranger to this place, sure, but he was so used to being with you at these times when you would drink too much and end up being driven home in his truck. This time was different.
He had received a call from your phone, not from your friends but Kie. She had found you puking behind a log alone which sounded funny had it been anyone but you.
Your so called 'friends' from figure eight had ditched you. Rafe knew they were bitches but you ever with a golden heart had ignored his warnings, excited by their invite to a girls night meaning he could not accompany you. Now, he regretted it.
"Where is she?" He asked approaching the only person apart from you and Kie in attendance that he could mildly stand, Sarah.
She simply pointed to an area of the beach separate from the party, he appreciated that Kie had removed you from prying eyes who would no doubt speak of the Kook Princess' inability to hold alcohol tomorrow had they seen.
"Fucking finally, she wont stop crying." Kiara said, not out of anger but worry. He glanced down at you seeing you curled up in Kie's arms, eyes glassy and red, cheeks stained with tears.
"Hey baby." He said ever so gently, kneeling down to your level in the sand and no doubt ruining his expensive chinos.
"Rafe?" You whispered peeling your head from Kie's shoulder as you dared to take in your surroundings.
"Yeah it's me, you good?" He asked, lifting a hand to remove the strands of sweaty hair which had stuck to your forehead, the humidity of the Outer Banks mixing with your illness making your body ever so slightly too warm.
"No I-, I don't feel well and I can't breathe properly." You hiccupped, anxiety making your heartbeat uneasy. Your hands reached for his ironed black shirt and he let you scrunch it between your fingers, grounding your mind.
Rafe nodded at Kiara, letting her know she could leave with a silent thank you.
"Think you had too much to drink?" He asked, watching as you messily nodded in response. "You'll feel better soon then, yeah? I see you got most of it out already." He chuckled, knowing you had been sick multiple times between this moment and his phone call from Kie.
"Just wanna go home." You mumbled, leaning into his warm chest.
"Okay lets get you up then." He said standing up and taking you with him as you stumbled on your feet. "Lean against me okay? Good girl." He added as you did so. The name was comforting and soft, sure it was sometimes used during sex but in this moment it was more. Reassurance.
He supported you all the way to his truck where he buckled you in with a gentle kiss to your scrunched and rosy cheeks.
"I don't want you speaking to those girls again." He said, hands clenched around the steering wheel while his jaw clicked in place though his anger was not directed at you.
"What Kie and Sarah?" You slurred, "They helped me though." You finished as your eyes squinted beneath the street lights which flickered as you passed.
"No, no. I'd rather you talk to my fuckin' psycho sister at this point I'm talking about those Figure Eight bitches." He seethed making your head snap towards him.
"Number one, they're my friends, number two, you're also a Figure Eight bitch, no?" You giggled to yourself, knowing deep inside that his anger was justified to an extent. They weren't your friends, not really.
"They're not baby, you're kind and sensitive they're stuck up and have no personality outside of generational wealth." He replied. You saw the irony in his words though it appeared he didn't and it wasn't a hill you were ready to die on so you let it go.
"M'kay well, I feel better now you're here and I didn't like them all that much anyway I'm just surprised they would stoop that low." You sighed into the silent atmosphere as the car, feeling his gaze on you.
He softly placed a hand on your bare thigh in the darkness, squeezing it in a gesture of comfort.
"Yeah." He sighed in defeat.
In this moment, looking at you in the moonlight Rafe felt a new sense of protectiveness over you. You were naïve and too forgiving to your own detriment, he wasn't and if he could help it those girls would never see the light of day again, never mind your beautiful face.
#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron#drew starkey x actress!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#outer banks fic#outer banks#rafe cameron x fem!reader#drew starkey x fem!reader
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Kiss me Plenty || c.b. x reader
summary: you play the “I can’t stop kissing you,” prank on colby.
tags/cw: implied smut, kisses (lots of ‘em), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, established relationship, youtuber(s) relationship.
a/n: there isn’t much for me to say except that I have a very strong yearn for colby to be kissed 24/7. if that man isn’t being kissed at every second of the day like he deserves, then the world is a cruel joke of a place.
and a huge thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last work, you guys are so sweet T.T happy holidays!
- - -
You have the camera set up first thing in the morning. It’s hidden out of visible-sight and is focused on Colby’s usual spot; his desk, where he normally films intros to videos amongst other tasks in respect to his shared channel with Sam.
The plot of your video to be filmed today is explained to your audience. All while a grin is spread on your lips. “Today’s goal is to annoy the shit out of Colby by kissing the hell out of him. I don’t know how he’ll react considering he’s hyper-affectionate as it is… but its also normally something he does rather than me initiating it. So maybe he’ll suspect something right off the bat? Who knows!”
By the time Colby has migrated from your shared bed to his desk, you’re just outside the door, anxiously prepared for whatever may come of the situation. Without much of an extravagant entrance, you move toward where he is and stand behind him. His eyes are glued to the screen and you pretend to seem intrigued by whatever it is he’s looking at.
A yawn escapes his mouth as he reaches an arm behind himself, subconsciously searching for any part of you to grasp onto and reel in. “Good morning, baby.” He rasps, last night’s rest still grappling at his body.
“Morning,” you reply, allowing him to pull you closer. You take this as an advantage to wrap your arms around his shoulders from where you now stand beside him. “What are you working on today?”
Colby’s gaze is still caught on the screen when his own arm is snaked around your waist. His eyes flicker from one end to another, clearly focused on whatever he’s reading. “Just emails right now. I have a bit of review and editing tasks to get done on the apparel website too..”
“Ah, I see.” You sigh. Your eyes flash a mischievous glint toward the camera before you begin leaning into his space to plant a soft peck to his cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?”
Still enraptured by work, he acknowledges your question half-heartedly. “No, love. Thank you though.”
You feign a frown at his response and begin swaying his chair left to right when the hold on your waist is replaced by the computer’s mouse. He scrolls through several pages, reading what he can manage to as you continue rocking his chair.
“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You question innocently, though you both are aware that his work is capable of enveloping the entirety of his day. He shrugs, too focused to respond. You take this as an opportunity to leave a kiss on the crown of his head, moving behind his chair to loosely circle your arms around his neck. “I think I’m gonna finish my Christmas shopping while you’re still here.”
He hums and it’s evident that he isn’t regarding your presence to the full extent that it’s normally at. You huff and lean over his shoulder to litter butterfly-light kisses along the side of his neck. He unconsciously cranes his neck, providing you with more access to the skin.
“Shouldn’t you come and eat breakfast first? You haven’t eaten anything.” You ponder aloud, and this time, he shakes his head.
“I’m fine, babe.“ he mutters, eyes squinting in the analysis of his emails. Your tongue comes out to swipe at your lips, wetting them before leaning further into his space and kissing him straight on the mouth. At this, he cocks his head to the side, granting you access for more.
You continue to press into him, feeling accomplished when you realize that now he’s fully focused on you. The kiss is languid and feels good enough to praise, but before you can fully enjoy it, Colby is pulling away with a pitiful smile. You don’t even have to question him because he’s apologizing in an instant.
“I’m sorry, petal. I really have to get these things done. I promise as soon as I get this out of the way, I’m all yours.” He says and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart. God, he really is the cutest. With the way his eyes glimmer at you, you’re confident with the idea that this man could un-alive your childhood pet and get away with it by just looking at you with those damned ocean eyes.
“Just a minute more?” shaking off the thought of ending the video early out of awe for your boyfriend, you continue your antics. You plead instead, batting your lashes tauntingly while returning to his side.
He blinks owlishly at you and ultimately accepts, pulling you into his lap by the hips and allowing you to straddle him comfortably. You grin, wasting no time and diving straight in for a passionate kiss. His hands snake around you to land on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze to which you groan into his lips for.
For a second, you’re convinced that this moment would last for an eternity with the pace that he’s taking. Theres not a doubt that he’d absolutely waste an entire day just to kiss you, and in this case you want this to be one of those days. His kiss is smooth, gentle, yet fierce and meaningful. Your hands move on their own accord; one pressing into the broad of his chest and the other entangling into his hair.
There’s a moan serenading your ears after a few rough tugs to the strands on his head. However, before you know it, he’s giving you one last playful tug to your lip and placing a good space between the two of you. While you’re grateful for this moment to breathe, you also fall clueless as to why the hell he stopped.. until, of course, you remember that you’re filming a video, and he’s working. Hello!
“Do you know how distracting you can be?” Colby chuckles, and you take a few seconds to take in his appearance; hair tussled, eyes dark and dilated, lips swollen with a few teeth indentations caused due to your own accord. You almost want to spend the rest of the video admiring your work, but conclude that the show must go on.
“What ever do you mean, coleslaw?” You quip, pushing against his hands from where they’ve been placed on your shoulders to distance you from him.
He immediately motions for you to get off of him, his hands already shoving at your chest. “Coleslaw? You’re done. Get off of me.”
You laugh and reluctantly remove yourself from his lap only to make an attempt at lifting him up with you. As if knowing exactly what you’re about to do, he drops his weight into his chair. You grunt, tugging on his arms with all your might. He doesn’t budge.
“Baby,” you whine, and add a childish stomp for emphasis. “Can’t you just take today off to spend time with me? Please?”
He falls limp at your words, tossing his head back against the chair’s headrest and huffs in thought. “We already hung out yesterday. The entire day! What do you want to do anyway?”
Pouting, you take advantage of his loose posture to throne his lap once more. Again, circling his neck with your arms and trying to pull him impossibly closer. Though, he does his best to keep a stoic expression and an emotional stiffness to prevent persuasion.
“I miss you,” the words seemingly fall on deaf ears as he remains unfazed, eyes wandering around the room; in other words, anywhere but you. “..just wanted to kiss you today.. but i guess you don’t want my kisses. guess I’ll just find someone else who does—“
His sigh mimics one of defeat. His hold on your tightens in protectiveness, as if afraid you may be taken from him. You begin to feel that bubble of mischief rising to your cheeks, tugging your lips into a smile. Yes! It’s working!
“One more kiss, and i seriously have to get back to work, okay?” He gambles, and suddenly your smile is fading into a frown. He directs his stare back to you, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “What, isn’t that what you want? Take it or leave it, baby.”
You bare your teeth in grimace, eyes twinkling with competitiveness before you dive in. Planting your lips on his, you nip and lap at the opening he gives you. Without much hesitance, he’s reciprocating in eagerness. Your tongues dance in the heat of the moment, teeth clashing with force. It’s clear how much you two want each other. And it’s even more evident just how far you’re willing to go for it.
“God, what’s gotten into you?” He manages to slur through the daze you’ve entrapped him in. The intimacy in the kiss exceeds even deeper when you apply pressure against his crotch, gaining a desperate reaction in return. He whimpers against your lips, bringing you impossibly closer to his form as he ruts against you.
“just.. really.. want.. you.” Your voice tapers off into a moan with each breath you take in between. And that’s when you realize. Oh shit. he’s hard.
A probing feeling at your clothed entrance is all it takes for you to pull back and freeze, hands instantly darting for the camera from where it was hidden just a few minutes ago. You focus the rest of the footage toward you, regarding your boyfriend’s lustful daze as a sign to come clean. Placing one hand on his cheek while the other holds the camera, you give a breathy and worried giggle.
“Are you—“ you start, motioning toward the evident tent in his sweats. His eyes waver from your face for a mere second to assess the situation before returning to you. “Colby?”
“Is this is a prank?” He mumbles, cocking his head toward the camera in your hand. You nod, curtaining your smile by placing a palm over your mouth. “Oh,”
“Colby, It’s a prank. I didn’t expect it to go this far!” You admit, and suddenly the giddiness you had been shielding from escaping you throughout the video is released. You laugh in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh. Guys, if you saw anything…. No you didn’t. Haha! But seriously, my poor baby suffered today so if you enjoyed the video, be sure to like and subscribe. Until next time, bye!”
The moment the video comes to an end, Colby is cursing you up and down for the scheme you had hidden from him. However, his scolding shortly concludes with a soft, and admittedly disappointing, “—had me all excited..”
“Oh my poor baby,” you coo, both of you now free from an audience’s presence via camera. Holding his face in your hands, you apply pressure to his cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker when you go in for a gentle kiss. “‘M sorry. The fans really wanted to see what you’d do.”
“Well now they know, so can we please not do that again. you’re very irresistible and convincing you know that?”
You press a gentle peck to his cheek and huff. “Yeah I’ve heard it a few times from my boyfriend.”
“Wow. I feel bad for your boyfriend.” Colby jokes playfully.
“Do you? Hm. Guess I should be a little nicer to him.”
“Maybe.” He pouts his lips toward you, proceeding to lift you from where the two of you sit on his office chair. Your legs wrap around his middle as he travels toward your shared bed. “I think your boyfriend deserves it.”
“I think so too,” you smile. Continuing from where you had left off, you both spend the rest of the morning doing exactly as you begged for; spending the day together. And making out, of course. And maybe a little more than that.
#colby brock fanfic#colby brock imagine#colby brock x reader#colby brock x you#colby brock blurb#colby brock
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In the Heat of the Moment: Part 2
Summary: Bucky never could've imagined the night turning out like this: you on your knees taking him in the club after a much needed night out for the team.
Warnings: Smut. Girlies just we eating each other out in the club and getting down on our knees for one man and one man only. Enjoy. No use of Y/N
A/N: Well friends and nasties, I got a couple people desperate for a part 2 and who am I to deny y'all?
This was my first proper attempt at a smut one shot so... I hope you enjoy??? Technically this is a two parter though, so I'd recommend reading Part 1 here first if you want the whole experience.
Also I did this from Bucky's POV cause that was what I was vibing. I know it's a different POV from the last part, but idk switching it up can be fun sometimes!
Couple songs I listened to so I could get into the techno/club mood vibes if you wanna join along (I played it low so it could feel more ambiency~): More More More by Lulu, Bring the Rave by Vortex’s, Beukers in Berlin by &NUFF, Niotech
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Bucky could only register one thing right now.
Your mouth on his cock.
He'd honestly never have predicted the night ending up like this, but damn if he didn’t imagine this same scenario over again after your training sessions together, missions, parties — really anytime he saw you these days.
So to have you on your knees, looking up at him with only the shitty flickering club bathroom lights to show the way your tongue slowly teased around his tip and back down again... Well. He never could go back to only imagining this again.
He knew what you felt like, and there ain’t now way he was going back to fiction. Thank god for that asshole that hit on you or you both wouldn’t be here right now.
He groaned as you sucked on the head, teasing him slowly as he gripped into your hair tighter, “Fuck doll, if you don’t start moving soon-“
You pulled off of him, your hand replacing your mouth as you slowly dragged it up and down his length, “Then what?” You asked, a teasing look in your eye as you looked up innocently.
His jaw clenched as he reached down to your jaw and gripped it tight, forcing you to look at him, “Then I’m gonna have to fuck your pretty mouth raw until you can’t talk.”
He watched your smile stay on your face a moment longer before your mouth hung open, your tongue out and inviting. A goddamn invitation to the heaven that was your mouth, for him to fucking use you like he’s only dreamed. You were gonna be the death of him, he was convinced at this point.
He dragged your head back over his length, your pretty lips hitting the edge of his leaking tip. He watched as he landed on your awaiting tongue, like you were awaiting orders. Orders he was more than glad to give.
He pushed his hips forward as his cock sunk hard into your awaiting throat, his length barely fitting as he hit the back. He felt you gag, watched you as you choked on him over and over again as he pulled back and forward. “You can take it,” he grunted out, “open up for me. C-come on, you can do it."
He kept pushing himself further and harder in as you relaxed your throat, his length digging in deeper and deeper. He watched as the tears started streaming down your face, your hands gripping now onto his thighs for support as he fucked your mouth into oblivion. He knew if you wanted to stop him at any point you could, so the fact that you were letting him fuck your mouth like this, seemed to be enjoying it-
“That’s it, fuck, t-taking me so good aren’t ya, made for me. Your throat, your pussy, all for me.” He panted out, each thrust taking him deeper into bliss as his head hit the wall of the bathroom stall. “Wanna fuck you, wanted to fuck you for so long. G-god, better than I imagined.”
His words we’re growing more incoherent, sporadic as his groans and breaths grew quicker, faster. He was already so damn close, your own moans vibrating against him.
He felt you suck hard, his hips pushing forward at the feeling. More- more- more-
“Fuck!” He let out, loud even over the pounding music outside the bathroom as he pressed into your throat as deep as he could. He felt you suck him harder, your tongue flattening out as you took every last drop of him.
His body was bliss, his mind a fog as he felt you loosen around him, your mouth coming off in a slow sweep. He loosened his grip on your hair, letting you fall off of him as he watched you slowly catch a stray drop of cum off your lip with your thumb. He felt his skin raise with goosebumps at the sight, every damn inch of you making him lose his mind. You were perfection, a beautiful devilish, perfect, everything.
“God damn doll.” He sighed out, head against the wall as he let himself take a mkment. He'd never come that hard in his life, but somehow you had his body screaming for more. He wanted and needed to feel more of you and he was still recovering from the mind blowing orgasm you just gave him in a dingy club bathroom.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there for but he suddenly felt your hands dragging up his body and to his face. He saw the tear stains down your cheeks, a reminder of how well you took him, your lips slightly swollen. He might've felt bad if those same lips hadn't immediately curled into a smirk as you looked up at him. “Good?” You asked, your voice cracking from abuse.
Shit.
“So fucking good.” He managed to get out, eyes tracing over every inch of your face. He wanted to mesmerize every detail, every way you looked after you took him, when you came, everything. Before he could think more, be crashed his lips onto yours, tearing into your mouth desperately.
He lifted you up and carried you over to the sink, setting you down on the edge counter before settling himself between your legs.
He took his time, tasting and licking every damn inch of skin he could before his mouth landed on your clothes chest. His teeth grazed over your nipple, a gasp leaving your lips as his hands grabbed and pinched the other. He knew he couldn’t have you the way he wanted, not here at least, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy some of what was to come.
He eventually dropped down to his knees, this time he got to gaze up at you, watching your face as he knelt below. The way your eyes would blow out, your mouth open slightly as you panted softly.
Eyes not leaving yours, he wrapped your legs around his shoulders and slowly moved your dress up. He watched as your hands reached out and gripped the wall beside you and the sink — anything for some semblance of balance.
His hands slowly slid up your thighs, goosebumps following his hands as he sat there mesmerized. He could already see your cunt so perfectly wet for him, so desperate for his touch. He reached out and placed two tentative fingers against your clothed core, slowly moving up and down before he slid the material to the side, your breath hitching at the cold air.
“Please,” He heard from above, his eyes darting back to yours as you stared down at him, chest heaving even harder now and a gleam of sweat glistening on your skin. He’d barely touched you but you looked nearly feral, like you were a rubber band ready to snap. Your hips slightly shifted forward, a silent plea for him to move. To touch.
He slowly pressed his fingers against your folds, feeling the slickness coating his fingers as he dragged them up and down. He was in no rush, content to feel you around him for as long as he could. Focused on the way your body tensed, your broken throat groaned and moaned, your legs tightening and locked around him.
“What do you want,” He said casually, pretending like it was just a casual question as he kissed the sides of your thigh. Even though he was steps away from tearing into you and feasting on your pussy like it was his last meal.
No, he wanted to hear you, needed to hear how much you wanted him first.
“Stop teasing,” You snapped, a harsh breath leaving your lips.
He moved his fingers down... And back up. Grazing by the entrance as he slicked his fingers around, keeping a languid lace. “Not enough there agent, I need you to tell me in explicit detail what you’d like me to do.” He smirked, eyes fixed on your frustrated ones.
“You fucking-“ You started, grip tightening on the counter. “I need you, James, to put your goddamn mouth on me now and fuck me so good that I forget my own name. Is that clear enough, soldier?”
He paused, smirk still on his lips as he said, “Crystal.”
Without a second thought after, his mouth pulled forward to where you both wanted it most, sighing as he tasted the most heavenly thing he'd ever laid his tongue on. You were fire and honey and he knew in that moment he’d never get enough of it — he was hooked on your taste, and he lapped and sucked like his life depended on it.
Your body lurched forward, hand darting into his hair as he felt you grip him tightly. “B-Bucky!”
He didn’t stop, tongue flicking and sucking in a punishing rhythm as one of fingers slowly entered that delicious place between your thighs. He felt you clench around him as he sunk deeper in, pulling out slowly before diving right back. He pushed, further and further until he was knuckle deep, a second finger pushing in soon after, then a third. You moaned above him, chanted nothing but his name.
That sent him over the edge. He tore into you with a new, punishing rhythm, desperate to feel you come around him, to know what it was like to hear you keep calling his name like he’d imagined every night, as he made you like this. Made you want him and nothing but him.
He groaned into your cunt, your body shivering as his metal hand pressed into your stomach to hold you down. You ground up into him, your walls clenching around his fingers as he felt you get closer and closer to the edge.
“Bucky, Bucky, I-“
He sucked your clit hard as a response, earning another harsh moan from you as he curled his fingers inside. And in that moment he knew you were done and that he'd found exactly where you needed it most because your body stiffened, your walls tightening into a deathly grip as he kept hitting that perfect spot over and over. The way you clutched to him, moved -- he was lost in the way you felt around him.
“James!” He heard you scream, your body shaking, holding onto whatever you could for dear life as he carried you through your release. He watched as your body melted, his movements slowing until he milked your orgasm just enough. He pulled out his fingers, taking his time to suck each digit clean before pushing himself back onto his feet, pulling your dress down in the process.
He felt as you reached out to him, barely registering anything as you kissed him with a fervor he didn’t know how you still had. After a moment he pulled away, his head laid against yours as you both caught your breaths. The harsh beats from the club filling the silence.
“Well that was…” You started.
“Fucking incredible is what it was.” He said, eyes locking onto yours. “And sure as hell not the end of it.”
“And what else did you have in mind?” You asked, hand drifting over his arm and up his neck.
He gripped you to him, body pressed against his as his already hardening member pressed against you. “So fucking much.” He whispered low, mouth hovering over yours. “You’ve got no idea the amount of ways I’ve thought about taking you doll.”
Your breath fanned over Bucky’s, lips just grazing one another as you whispered back. “Show me.”
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But these prompts with CryBaby reader & Bucky would be 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 (where A is Bucky)
Character A can tell Character B is getting nervous in a big crowd, so A slips their hand into theirs to help them calm down.
"You don't have to hide your tears from me."
"Just please, don't leave me."
Cry Baby | "Just please, don't leave me,"
Summary: ^^ Requested Prompts.
Warnings: Sensory Overload.
Word Count: 390
Series Masterlist
A/N: I love these prompts! Thank you sooo much for requesting them, I loved writing this, and I may be crying with Cry Baby on this one 😭😭😭 I really hope I did it justice for you! Also, I can already hear the cheers from everyone who wanted more Cry Baby before Tuesday.
You and Bucky moved through the crowd, the neon lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors over the mass of people. There was a constant noise of chatter, horns honking, engines roaring, and street performers filling the air. A sensory overload, it was difficult to escape. Glancing over at you, Bucky noticed the tension in your posture, he was used to seeing your eyes flicker nervously from one face to the next, yet tonight, he felt it too.
Bucky could see the signs of panic seeing in, the crush of people seemingly too much, your breath became quick, a slight tremor in your fidgeting hands. Without hesitation, Bucky reached out, gently slipping his hand into yours. Your fingers tightened around his, a silent plea for comfort.
“I’m right here,” Bucky said softly, leaning in close. His grip kept a firm hold on your hand, guiding you through the crowd. Navigating through the sea, Bucky leads the way with a determined stride.
He kept talking to you while you walked, his voice was a soothing constant. Slowly, he felt you begin to relax, your grip on his hand easing as you focused on his voice rather than the world around you both.
Eventually, you find yourselves in a small park, a quiet green oasis. The sound of the city was muted by the rustling of leaves, and the traffic, a distant hum. Bucky sat with you on a bench under a large tree, never letting go of your hand.
Bucky’s eyes searched for any remaining signs of distress. Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and your vulnerability lay bare once again. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me,” he whispered a promise of unwavering support, his voice soft.
“Just please, don’t leave me,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper as the tears began to spill and your throat choked.
Squeezing your hand, Bucky pulled you into a gentle embrace. “I’m right here,” he murmured into your ear, “I’ve got you.”
You sat like that for a moment, the world outside the park continuing to rush around you. But, in that brief moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. The tension slowly left your body, your hands stopped shaking as they clung to his jacket.
At that moment, that was all you needed. Him.
#cry baby series#cry baby#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x cry baby#bucky barnes x rogers!reader
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Useful 🔞🔞🔞 (Jimin x Reader)
Summary: You’ve stretched yourself thin lately and you know it, and so does your boyfriend Jimin. As Jimin always takes good care of you, you decide to give him a treat to thank him—and as always, Jimin gives you back your love tenfold.
Tags: Dom!Jimin, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, massages, kneeling, collars, Y/N calls Jimin sir, sub space, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, breeding, cock drunk Y/N, multiple orgasms (f.), protective!jimin (🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵), aftercare!!!!!!
Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that LOL)
W/C: 3055 (3k)
A/N: Guess who’s back on their bullshit? ME. Sorry I kind of disappeared again LOL being a functioning adult is the worst. Anyway, here's some massage-turned-unprotected-sex. <33
Sometimes, you get in moods like this. Moods where everything is irritating and stupid and simultaneously upsetting. You know yourself well enough to know it has to do with you stretching yourself too thin. Work? Of course you can do that task. Family? Absolutely you can attend that event. Friends? Yes, you’d love to go out tonight.
Jimin also knows you well enough to know when you’re getting like this. You know he’s noticed, from the way he puts in a bit more effort lately to keep you happy. He buys your favourite takeout dinner and bath bombs and even a new matching scarf and gloves set to keep you warm. That’s the way Jimin is—a natural giver with a considerate, purposeful mind. He never so much as says a word to you about your little gifts, but you know he notices when you give him a few more kisses than usual to silently show your affection.
But you’re getting to a point now where two things become obvious: you need a break before you burn out, and Jimin needs to be shown that you appreciate him before he starts to feel burned out himself.
The solution comes in the form of an at-home spa kit you buy online. It’s not much, a little warmer and a bottle of lavender scented oil, along with some candles and little hand towels. But knowing Jimin—and knowing you—you don’t stop there. Instead, you hop in the shower as soon as you come home. You wash up and dress in only panties and one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters, light candles and then warm up the oil.
As your shared bedroom is filled with romantic lighting and the sweet lavender smell, your mind wanders. You think of Jimin’s face when he sees you like this, how his eyes will darken and a smirk will spread on his lips. You think of taking care of him and thanking him for all he does for you with both words and your hands on his body. And naturally, you think of how Jimin will return the favour—with firm words and strong arms around you. A perfect balance of sweetness, teasing, and protectiveness: that’s Park Jimin.
Your eyes flicker to the collar you set on the nightstand, a black leather collar with plush inner lining and a custom silver J embroidered on the front. You press your thighs together, waiting.
“Baby?” Your heart leaps as you hear Jimin’s voice down the hallway. Your boyfriend emerges from the hall, curious eyes peeking into the dimly lit room. Then, he sees you, scantily dressed in front of the bed. Jimin smiles, but there’s that familiar edge. “Oh, what’s this?” He asks.
You lick your lips as Jimin draws closer, loosening his tie. “A surprise.” You whisper.
Jimin laughs, taking a seat on the bed. “I can see that.” He says, glancing at the massage oil. Your boyfriend brings you to stand between his spread legs with both hands on your wrists. You swallow as he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes. “What kind of surprise, exactly?”
“A massage.” You reply, pressing your thighs together again. Jimin notices, but he’s not strict with you today—he knows you’re too worked up to be teased today. Instead, the man leans in, pressing kisses against your belly over your sweater. You shiver—his lips are still cold from outside, even through the soft material.
“That will be fun.” Jimin says. “Thank you for doing this, baby.”
“No, thank you.” You say, and to anyone else, you would sound like strangers. But only you know the way Jimin’s simple words and touches make you want to obey him, show him how grateful you are, how well you can take care of him. Jimin knows it, too, which is why he lets go of your wrists and runs his hands—which are warm, likely from wearing mittens—up and down the backs of your thighs. “You’ve been so nice to me. I-I want to take care of you.”
Jimin hums, and it’s more beautiful than any melody you’ve ever heard. “Mmhm.” He says, and one hand brushes over your clothed core. You shiver. “Want to submit to me?” He asks, then begins kneading your ass. His touch is firm, reminding you of your place even as you tower over him.
“Please.” You gasp. “Please, sir.”
“Go get your collar.” Jimin answers, letting go of you. He leans back on his hands as you scurry to the nightstand and back. You kneel on the plush rug by Jimin’s feet, then present your collar to him with both hands. The dom accepts it from you, and you elongate your neck for his ease of access. Jimin plants his elbows on his knees, bending over you to fix the collar in place. “What’s your colour, baby?” The dom asks even though you both know how desperate you are already.
“Green, sir.”
“Good girl.” Jimin says, then stands up. You look up at him, face a few inches below his clothed cock. Jimin’s eyes darken. He knows what you want, and you both know he’s never denied it to you within limits. You wait patiently as the dom removes his pants, then his boxers and discards them on the floor. When Jimin sits down, you grab the warmed bottle of massage oil off the bed.
“May I begin, sir?”
“Yes.” Jimin answers, and even he sounds slightly breathless now.
You begin on his right leg, massaging his thigh dutifully. You work away at the knots caused by long hours, then down to his calf. “You have a talent for this.” Jimin praises you, carding a hand through your hair. Your face burns as you sit between his legs and serve him, but you feel so good, so useful. And Jimin is nothing if not vocal about it. “Such a quick learner. My good, smart girl.”
“Thank you.” You whisper as you finish massaging the right leg, then move to his left leg. You repeat your motions, slow and dutiful. As you work at one particular knot in the back of Jimin’s left calf, he sighs in relief. You smile and Jimin catches it.
“Feel good that you’re helping me?” He asks, and you look up at him. Jimin cups your face with one hand, looking down at you with love. It makes you want to cry in joy, but it also makes your vagina throb as you want to give yourself to him. But you tell yourself to be patient. You want to make Jimin feel good, and you know Jimin will return it tenfold to you in due time. “Massage my hips for me, baby. They’re a bit sore.”
You nod, putting a bit more oil on your hands. You place your hands on Jimin’s hips, running your thumbs along the groove of his V-line and pressing your fingers into his hips. You work at his hips until you end up down at his mons pubis and then lower, where a hard, heavy cock hangs between his legs. “C-Can I help you with that, too, sir?” You ask, and you surprise yourself with how whiny it comes out.
Jimin laughs at your politeness. “Of course, beautiful.”
You lick your lips, running your slicked hands over Jimin’s cock. You run your hands up and down the shaft, collecting pre-come to lubricate him further. You take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Jimin groans above you, spilling praise from his lips. “Oh, that’s right. Just like that. So good, so perfect for me.”
His praise urges you to take him deeper until your nose presses against his mons pubis. You use your hands to cup his balls, massaging them gently. You work your way up and down the shaft, with Jimin’s ever-louder sighs and curses egging you on. You can feel the tightness in Jimin’s abdomen, the way he wants to come in your mouth. And you’d let him, oh how you’d let him.
But before he can come, Jimin pulls you off him. You look at him, confused. “Come here.” Jimin says, and you climb up into the bed. You eye his cock, but Jimin gives you a breathless chuckle. “You haven’t massaged my back yet, remember?” He reminds you. You blush, and Jimin beckons you closer with two fingers. You position yourself behind him, sitting with your thighs on either side of Jimin’s hips, and add more oil to your hands before massaging his shoulders.
Jimin sighs as you work away the tension, and his hands find your calves, stroking small circles into your skin. You’re halfway down Jimin’s back when he wraps his arms around your calves and pulls. You gasp as you end up with your clothed vagina against his bare ass. Jimin chuckles, and you know he can feel how wet you are. Flushing in embarrassment, you try to shuffle back, but your boyfriend holds you in place. “I think that’s enough for my back. Why don’t you come over to the front?” Jimin purrs, glancing at you over his shoulder. You gasp as he presses himself back against your soaked panties.
“Y-Yes sir.” You say, and Jimin releases your calves.
You crawl around Jimin, and the dom lays down. He folds his arms up behind his head, looking comfortable like he’s laying on a sunbed somewhere warm. “Get on my lap.” He says. “And take everything off.”
You remove the two articles you’re wearing in a heartbeat, then straddle your boyfriend’s hips. It’s a struggle to not push yourself down on the leaking cock tucked just behind your ass, since Jimin hasn’t given you permission to ride him yet.
You run your oiled hands up and down Jimin’s abdomen, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the plushness of his belly. Jimin looks at you for a moment, then grins. “You know, I’m not a big fan of this oil. Can we try something else for wetness?”
“L-Like?” You ask, but Jimin just holds his hands out to you. You flush, knowing what he wants.
You crawl closer, until you’re straddling Jimin’s face. “Oh, that’s much better.” He says, then breathes cool air onto your already throbbing clit. “Such a useful, useful girl I have.” Jimin says. Before you can thank him, he presses his tongue past the opening of your sopping wet hole. You whimper, almost collapsing but JImin holds you up with his strong grip. “So busy being useful you forgot you’re supposed to feel good, too, didn’t you?” He asks, looking up at you darkly. “But you’re always like that. Always thinking you have to do it all alone, even though I’m right here—” He says, then swirls his tongue around inside you. You cry out.
“Sorry! I’m sorry, sir!” You beg.
Jimin licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Then, he sucks at the bud until you’re shaking above him. “Are you? Are you going to let me put you in your place?”
“Yes, yes, sir!” You chant.
Jimin releases one hand from your hips, sliding it down the curve of your ass until it finds your hole. He presses two digits inside you, and you accommodate them easily. “Good girl.” He praises you, and you’re almost crying by now. You cry out his title. “Count.” He orders.
“T-Ten…N-Nine…” You count, trembling from the force of not coming from Jimin’s skillful lips against your most sensitive lips. “Eight…s-seven, oh—” You moan as Jimin nips at your inner fold, then releases it. Then, Jimin begins pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. “S-Six, five, four—” You continue as Jimin eggs you on.
“T-Three, oh, two, one—” You pant heavily.
“Now.” Jimin orders and tears fall from your eyes and you shake so hard from your orgasm that he has to hold you up. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” He praises you, turning you so you can lay down against the bed.
“Yours. Yours.” You repeat hazily as Jimin arranges himself above you. He plants his hands on either side of your waist, then kisses you long and deep.
“Colour?” He checks.
“Green, please, sir.” You say, guiding his hand up to your collar. “Yours, please, sir.” You all but babble. Jimin beams with pride.
“That’s right. All mine.” Jimin says, kissing at your hardened nipples, then down to your belly. With one hand, he begins rubbing at your clit again. He works you back up until you’re whiny and grinding against him for another orgasm. “Would my good girl like my cock?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer.
“Yes!” You answer immediately.
“Where?” Jimin teases. You reach down and spread your outer folds, not caring how messy you look right now. Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Right here? In your pretty hole?” He asks, sliding two fingers back into you. You whine as he wiggles the fingers inside you until the room is full of wet sounds.
“Yes, please. W-Want your cock, sir.” You beg, clenching around his fingers.
Jimin withdraws his fingers, then lines himself up to your entrance. You both moan as he bottoms out within seconds from how soaked and loose you are. “Where do you feel that, baby?” Jimin asks, more for his pride than any other reason.
You place a hand on your belly. “Right here.” You say. “All full.”
“Yeah?” Jimin says, gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart. He thrusts in and you have to fight not to come right then and there.
“Yeah.” You whimper. “W-Want your come right there.”
“I know.” Jimin coos at you. “You need your hole nice and full, don’t you? Need to fill up your pretty belly with my seed so you remember who you belong to. So you can quit. Trying. To do. Everything. By yourself.” Jimin says, punctuating his words with long and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed.
“P-Please sir.” You whine. “Your seed. Please.”
“Gonna come again already?” Jimin asks, knowing your body well. When you reply yes and plead him for permission, Jimin leans down and kisses your forehead. “Hold on a bit more, you can do it.”
“Y-Yes. Yes. Anything you say!” You say, feeling cock drunk. It doesn’t take more than that, only a few more pumps until Jimin’s hips are stuttering from the way you clench him desperately—even as he’s moving.
“Rub your clit.” Jimin orders, and you reach down, rubbing hard and fast. Within seconds, Jimin is slamming into you one last time, filling you with his hot seed. You come hard around him a second time, but Jimin isn’t done there. He pulls you up, making you squeal. You whine as your positions reverse, with you on top and Jimin laying down. “You can come around me one more time, since you were such a good, good girl.” He praises, entangling a hand in your hair. His grip is firm but not painful.
“Thank you, sir.” You reply gratefully, running your fingers over your clit. There’s something exhilarating about being stuffed full of come and getting to put yourself on display with it. You make a show of pushing yourself to a third orgasm around Jimin, his seed making both of your thighs sticky and gooey.
“Show yourself to me again.” Jimin demands, and you spread your folds to him again. The dom growls. “Such a pretty cunt. Who owns that?”
“You, sir!”
“That’s right.” Jimin replies. “Gonna come again for me? My good girl, making a mess with my seed?”
“Yes, please!” You all but scream.
“What a pretty fucking girl. I want to give you my come again and again, until you can feel a baby growing where I put my seed. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Being shown off to everyone as the pretty, obedient girl I got to knock up and to take care of?”
“Yes, oh, please—” You’re crying again, almost insane with the thought of being protected and taken care of by Jimin. You’re so deep into your subspace by now all you can think of is how safe and good you feel right now. “Please, all yours—”
“Come.”
The single word sends you over the edge, and you tremble around him a third time. You lay down on top of Jimin with his cock still inside you. The dom wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “So sweet. My perfect baby.” He praises you, peppering kisses on your temple and forehead.
“Thank you. Thank you sir.” You repeat over and over, and Jimin holds you tight.
Once you’re ready, Jimin slides out of you. You roll onto the sheets, but Jimin doesn’t give you time to get lazy. “Come on, we need to shower.” He says, pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You squeal, tucking your chin over his shoulder.
Jimin helps you shower, particularly gentle with your hips and legs as he knows they’re sore now. He helps you dress in your pyjamas. Then, he lifts you onto the counter, insisting on doing your skincare routine for you. You giggle but let him help you, knowing he likes to spoil you like this. Once you’re done, you hold your arms out to be carried back to bed. Jimin laughs, kissing you again.
“Oh, you’re a real menace.” Jimin complains dramatically, setting you down in the armchair a few paces from the bed. You grin up at him, and Jimin strokes a hand down the side of your face lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” He says.
You watch him leave the room, then return with two granola bars and a bottle of water. “I know you ate, but just in case.” Jimin says, watching you open the snacks. While you eat and drink water, your boyfriend changes the bedsheets and blows out the candles. Once he’s done with that, you join him in bed. Jimin envelopes you in his arms, kissing your forehead softly.
“That wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He checks.
“No, not at all.” You say, feeling shy when Jimin looks at you with that intense look—like he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. “Thank you.” You add.
Jimin smiles. “You’re welcome, my love.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, my baby.”
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Hey, is it alright if I put in a request for a yandere Connor, nines, and 60? Specifically, them falling over the same human? I'm not sure what the reader would do to get a frankly suspicious amount of connors into them. Maybe they can be.. An artist or something, that supports the revolution? (Also, if you could add some non-con in there, i'd die but like in a good way) thanks!
(Dark, manipulation, non con/rape, vaginal fingering, abuse of power, overstimulation, afab!reader)
(Yandere!Connor, Nines, Sixty x reader)
Biological
AU where Connor, Nines, and Sixty all work at the DPD. Connor gets adopted by hank and is now Officially Connor Anderson AND he's captain of the police force
Up until now, you always thought Officer Nines hated you.
You aren't a cop. And you consider yourself unqualified to hold anything above a water gun. Regardless, your work rehabilitating androids requires you to visit the precinct often: gathering evidence for abuse, and testimonials from victims. Anything you can get your hands on to ensure the client your boss takes on will get the help they need.
It'd make sense that you'd get recognized eventually. Officer Chen greeted you with a simple head nod these days. Detective Sixty was a little more crude, preferring you call you petty nicknames with a sarcastic lilt in his voice.
Captain Anderson ("Conner," he'd insisted on so many times, his LED spinning a pleasant blue, "Just Conner is fine") would be more friendly. The RK800 models may look the same but no one ever mistook one for the other. Captain Anderson was kind, the only one of the models to take on a more human name. Whenever you stayed at the precinct a bit longer than you were comfortable with, he often volunteered to walk you to your car.
But Officer Nines just stared. Eyes tracing your footsteps until you were out of his view and even then you would feel it. He had to dislike you, you always thought, there's no way he couldn't.
At least, that's what you assumed until his lips met yours in the darkness of a closet.
"Pay attention." Detective Sixty's harsh voice broke through your head. He was here too. Between all the chaos, your struggle, you'd stopped to notice two sets of hands had grabbed you into the tiny room, shutting the door as soon as you stumbled through.
"Humans can't see when the light is so low," Officer Nines mused. He had moved to your neck now, tasting your skin. A large hand was covering your mouth, most likely because you screamed too loudly for their taste.
"It's instinct to be scared," the way he spat out the word felt so condescending and spitful. As though he were looking down on you. In a way, it made sense. Who were you compared to metal and wires?
In the end, his argument helped you. The lights flickered on, letting you finally see them. Nines was at your front, his synthetic hair brushed against your jaw. Sixty's hands were gripped along your waist, traveling longer and longer.
You didn't want to think what this was.
"Officers?" your voice was a squeak, barely a sound, "Please what's going-"
Nines' teeth scrapping over your neck makes you snap your mouth shut, curling into yourself. He's the opposite of biology, but his tongue feels so animalistic on your skin, leaving a wet trail. You tremble in their hold. Sixty gives a mean laugh.
"Come on, you can't be that stupid, can you?" He huffs in your ear, nibbling on it, making you jolt, "The big guy here has always wanted a taste. You'll be nice enough to give him one, yes?"
Nines gives a noise of disapproval, pulling back to watch you. You've never seen his gaze so soft before. Hands wipe the tears on your face.
"As if you weren't more desperate," Nines hums, affectionately kissing the corner of your mouth when you start shivering, "You'd still be following around like a lovesick puppy."
Sixty huffs at that, muttering something you can't pick apart.
It's not quite a smile, but Nines' eyes look satisfied when he kisses you again, exploring your mouth with the same softness. It makes sense why. They're not human. You can't hurt them, no matter what they do to you.
Sixty proves it by catching both of your wrists, pinning them behind you as he continues to shuck off your pants, revealing your cotton panties.
Nines pulls away when you start begging again, more delirious, more desperate.
"Don't-don't-" you can barely spit them out, the terror sinking into your tone, "I-I don't-"
He hushes you. It's not quite a frown on his porcelain face, but it's enough to depict how unsatisfied he was with your behavior.
"Don't worry," he says, low, almost like he aims to comfort you, "it's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex."
He says it so flippantly, as though it was a fact. The sky is blue. Fire is hot. They were going to fuck you and you were going to like it.
You flinch when he goes to touch you again, a hand trailing down your neck.
"Looks like this one doesn't like you anymore," Sixty sniggers, palming your ass through your panties, "maybe you should step out. Let us have some alone time."
Nines gives a full frown that time. His disapproval bleeds into his actions.
Nines is a lot less gentle on your clothes. The button-up you were wearing is no match for his strength. You yelp when he rips it open, buttons fly and bounce away. You're pushed further into Sixty's hold, something the Detective readily accepts.
Lithe fingers delve underneath your panties, busying themselves with your pussy. You twitch under his hold. Already your body reacts, despite your disgust, your fear, your dignity.
It's simply biological for humans to enjoy sex.
They were wrong. You didn't enjoy this. You didn't fucking want this. You opened your mouth, fully intent on screaming. Were any of the officers still here? Captain Anderson often kept a late schedule, right?
A hand clamped down on your neck, causing your voice to stagger, stop. Despite your fear, common sense kicks in. Nines would have no problem snapping your neck if you provoked him.
A single look from him is all you need to curl in on yourself. Your will to fight leaves as soon as it arrives. You sink back into his hold.
"See?" Sixty croons in your ear, finding your clit, "Doesn't it feel better when you just give in?"
You sob, it's a pathetic whimper, barely getting out of your throat. Despite your clear struggle, your body gives up immediately. You can feel your pussy grow wet as Sixty continues his assault on your clit.
You gasp when he finds your pussy, one finger pushing into your sopping hole as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. There's a hint of pain, and then Nines kisses you again. It feels like a distraction. It feels like a punishment. Somehow, it ends up being both.
By now, his fingers have left your neck. He grasps your bra, pulling the cups down to squeeze your tits. There's a skillful push of Sixty's fingers, and then you're moaning into Nines' mouth.
"Such a pretty body," Nines sighs when he parts when your lips. He glances down, flicking at your nipple, watching as they harden under his attention. "So reactive as well."
You hiss, arching your back as Sixty delves a second finger, positioning them deep inside you.
"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Sixty sneers. "I can feel it."
You shake your head, but it'd be nothing but a lie. You can feel yourself slowly tipping over the edge.
When you come, it's nothing but devasting. Smashing you on the ground, shattering you. The only reason you don't collapse is because Sixty hadn't stopped moving inside you, yet.
Your pleas change, begs for him to stop because it hurts now. Sixty pays you no mind. He's more focused on the android in front of you, the one who watched your orgasm with haunting blue eyes.
"Well, big guy?" He asks, pulling his fingers out, "You said you wanted a taste, right?"
He doesn't waste a second, dropping to his knees. Every part of Nines is inhuman, his mouth especially. You keen at the temperature when his tongue dives into your folds. So hot, almost burning.
Nines eats you out like a man starved. He's pulled the panties off of you, the scrap of fabric abandoned on the floor. It's wet, messy, but the overwhelming pleasure of it forces you to toss your head back against Sixty's shoulder, whispering out your pleas through stilted moans. He plays the good cop this time, humming praises and coos into your neck, until you're cumming for the second time.
Nines relents when your thighs are shaking, close to giving out entirely. When he lifts himself up, he's wiping his lips away with the back of his hand. He doesn't break eye-contact with you, not as he starts unbuckling his pants because why would you think they'd stop at just ruining you?
The door swings open, catching all three of you off guard. Nines reacts the quickest, covering your mouth before you can scream. You can only stare into the Captain's brown eyes.
He really does look like Sixty when he's frowning. So far, you've only seen him giving soft smiles.
He's out of his uniform. That should have been your first sign.
"Gentlemen," he says, eyeing both Sixty and Nines before his gaze lands on you. His LED spins yellow. You can't even imagine what he's thinking. That his two best officers could do this.
And yet, the evidence is right in front of him.
"Cap'," Sixty responds.
That should have been your second sign. How casual they were about being found out.
"You're late." Nines says and you suddenly have this horrible thought that you weren't about to be saved.
Captain Anderson lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
"You were always much more impatient than you let on," he chides, brown eyes raking over your heaving body, "some of us had work to do. Why do you think no one heard you despite the recuss you all made?"
Nines lowers his hand from your mouth. Sixty leans into your ear. "He means you." He whispers but you can only stare at the Captain, his soft face, unassuming features.
You flinch at the hand caressing your cheek, but Captain Anderson doesn't bother. He traces a finger across your face, gently collecting the tears.
"Have they been nice to you?" Connor asks as though he can't see himself, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here before. I'll stop them if they go to far again."
You can feel Sixty's grin slice into your neck. Above you, Nine's is muttering something. You can't focus on any of it. It's all mush, sludge as the Captain's face remains eerily soft.
You must have forgotten. These weren't deviant androids.
They were rotten men.
"Captain-"
"I keep telling you over and over again," he sighs. The door shuts behind him. He smiles.
You think the worst part is his LED: A circling, calm blue.
"Call me Connor."
#yandere#yandere dbh connor#yandere dbh#yandere dbh sixty#yandere dbh nines#x reader#tw: noncon#dark content#dark dbh#dark dbh connor#dark dbh sixty#dark dbh nines
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Training
(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀
Summary: You meet Katniss while training to be a soldier.
Warnings: Some light swearing and lightly described injuries. (SFW)
Word count: 2879
Having spent most of your life working the markets of District 12, you weren’t the best fighter, and you hardly knew how to wield a sword. Although your life had been full of poverty, it was also full of peace. That was why you were surprised when informed that you would be drafted as an emergency soldier for the rebellion on the side of District 13.
You progressed your way from dummies to other trainees, but the breathing beings were much more ferocious than the sacks of old flour. You’d been training for a week and hadn’t won a single duel yet.
After your third loss, you left to nurse your wounds and practice on your own again. You wrapped your shoulder and lost track of time. It was far past dinner and you finally stopped when you heard a clatter.
That was when you noticed somebody else was here too.
You abandoned your training and went in search of the sound. In the small arena beside you, you noticed another girl around your age.
The girl's hair was tied into a side braid, bow clutched tightly between her fingers. She was shooting effortlessly at the holograms, taking down one after one with ease. When the training session ended she turned over her shoulder and noticed you watching.
You felt a heat creep up your neck and spread across her cheeks as your eyes locked with her gray ones. They were cold and reserved, but not angry.
“Sorry.” You stuttered, stepping away from the wall. “I thought I was the only one here. You’re amazing.”
By some miracle the girl didn’t seem bothered. She slung her bow over her shoulder and came over towards you. As she stood a few feet away from you it finally clicked in your head who she was.
“I’m uh—I’m y/n.” You stammered, suddenly not wanting to meet her eyes in case you blabbered on.
Standing in front of you was not just any girl, but Katniss, Katniss Everdeen; The Mockingjay; The Girl on Fire; The girl who fueled a rebellion with just a few berries.
She was practically a celebrity down here in 13, and once upon a time back in childhood you may have even called her a friend. You were sure she didn’t remember that.
Was she always this beautiful?
“Katniss.” The girl said with a nod. She eyed you curiously for a moment, the smallest flicker of recognition in her eyes but she said nothing about it. In fact, she didn’t say much at all.
You nodded too, unsure what else to do. This was quickly turning awkward.
“You’ve been training for a while.” Katniss finally states. It’s a weird thing to say, but it’s a true observation. She then points to the wrapped wound on your shoulder. “Is that new?”
That blush sparkled across your skin again, this time from embarrassment rather than awe.
“Yeah. I’m… I’m not the best fighter, so I’m just training.” You explain. “They’re going to draft me as an emergency soldier.”
“Then you should definitely train more. You need it.”
The bluntness of her statement drew out a frown across your lips. “Thanks.” You mumbled, even more embarrassed than before.
Katniss seemed to realize what she said and gave you an apologetic look, though she said nothing else on the topic. She checked the time and then hung her bow on the wall.
“I have to go. You should rest, you won’t help anybody by wearing yourself out.”
You watched silently as she left the room and turned the light off. Katniss was a lot more stuck in her own world than you remembered, but she was just as good with a bow as ever.
The next day you came early to training and worked your ass off for an extra hour but it still didn’t work. You were as good with a gun as a mouse, you couldn’t even get an arrow to shoot the right direction from a bow, and a 2 year old would’ve been better with a knife. The only reason you hadn’t been brutally murdered in training yet was that you knew how to dodge and escape mostly unscathed, but that wouldn’t do you good in a real battle.
Every failure was just increasingly more frustrating and you were debating on signing yourself up as a human shield instead.
Finally, you gave up. You dropped the bow and sank to the floor with a loud groan.
“You’re holding it wrong.”
The voice snapped you out of your self pity and you lifted your head towards the sound, finding a surprise.
Katniss stood at the entrance to the small arena, her own bow in hand and quiver strapped to her back. She was a little sweaty but seemed just as alert as ever.
“Your hand is too low.” Katniss continued as she stepped in. She pulled her bow off of her back and held it up to demonstrate.
You watched wide eyed with curiosity.
When Katniss handed you your own bow, you hesitantly took it and tried to copy her example.
“Like this?”
The other girl let out a soft chuckle. She set her hand on top of yours, her fingers were warm. She gently moved your hand up just a little. “Yes, like this.”
You slowly nodded and did as she said, holding the bow her way. It did feel easier.
“There you go.” Katniss nodded with approval. She helped you up to your feet and offered you an arrow. “Now, aim and shoot.”
Her breath was hot and tickled the side of your neck, making your heart stampede. She helped you prepare, her hand still over yours. As you angled and aimed the bow, she nodded.
“Shoot.”
The command snapped you back to reality. You let the arrow fly and missed the target by more than a few feet. So much for getting better. Now you felt like even more of a letdown.
“Sorry.” You muttered, ashamed of yourself.
Katniss shook her head and handed you another arrow. “Don’t be. Nobody gets it perfect on their first try.”
You didn’t get it on your second try either, or your third, but you were getting closer. Finally, on your fourth try, the arrow hit the edge of the target and not the wall behind it.
Katniss congratulated you with a rare smile and helped you a few more times until you continuously hit the target.
“Now keep practicing like that. You’ll get it soon enough, you have good form.” Katniss explained, letting her hair out of her braid. She’d taken a seat on a bench to watch you shoot. “And remember to rest, you’re no use as a worn out soldier.”
You couldn’t help but smile too.
The next few days, Katniss continued to give you shooting lessons, and became less reserved. When you started to always hit the target straight on, she began to teach you how to hit moving targets.
“Keep your focus on them. Don’t aim for where they are, aim for where they will be.” Katniss breathed against the back of your head. One of her hands was on your shoulder, the other on your elbow as she slowly turned you with the hologram.
You did what she said, looking ahead of the hologram. When it was moments away from your gaze, you released the arrow. It shot right into the target.
Katniss gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Great!”
You looked up at her just as she looked down and her chin bumped into your forehead. As if the way she was holding you and how she stood a few inches taller than you wasn’t already making your heart flutter, that certainly did it.
“Sorry.” She blurted out, stepping away. You missed her warmth already.
“It’s alright, it didn’t hurt.” You assured her quickly. “Thank you for teaching me, I really think I’m getting somewhere now! I’m the best shooter in my whole group!”
That made Katniss beam with pride and instead of saying something, she responded with a hug, and a tight one at that.
“I’m so proud of you.” She whispered happily, resting her chin atop your head without any pain this time. She hugged you close.
You couldn’t help but melt into her embrace and hug her back as tight as you could. It had been a long time since anybody had ever hugged you in this manner and it just felt so good, especially since Katniss was the one doing it.
When you broke away from the hug, you couldn’t help the bright blush on your face but luckily she didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, I think I’ve taught you all there is about how to use and work a bow.” Katniss told you, unaware of the way that made your heart sink. “I think my work here is done.”
“Do you know how to use a sword?” You asked rapidly the second she was done speaking. “Or a knife? Or just… anything else? I suck at just about every weapon out there.”
Katniss let out a sharp sigh and shook her head. “No, not well enough to teach you at least.”
An unconcealable frown broke out across your face and you slowly nodded. That was probably for the best anyway, Katniss most likely had better things to do then train you at odd hours of the night. But you didn’t want to lose her yet. You two never hung out or talked anywhere else but this was like your own little world together. You frowned even more and sighed.
“But… we could take a lesson together.” Katniss prompted the question hesitantly, as if you’d deny her. “If you want. I think learning more hand to hand things would help me as well.”
The permanent frown on your face was replaced with an even bigger smile and you nodded with glee.
The next day, the two of you signed up for a class together that would teach you the basics, give you each a wooden stick, and then let you at it. Katniss warned you beforehand that she could be a bit competitive and you took that challenge with a grin.
“I thought your aim was supposed to be good!” You called out teasingly as she swung at you and missed, hitting the wall. If there was anything you were actually good at on your own, it was dodging.
Katniss didn’t appreciate the tease. “You’re moving too quickly!” She shouted back, lunging at you again.
You stepped back and her stick smacked right into yours. You two had been at it for about an hour and were both sweaty and dirty. You were actually having fun, dodging and using your height as an advantage. Katniss was not and growing more and more pissed every time you ran. You couldn’t help but find it amusing.
“Maybe you should strike faster!” You exclaimed, blocking another one of her attacks and swiping at her feet. “Or just, I don’t know, be better?”
Katniss groaned and lunged again. This time she managed to take a jab at you and was coming back for seconds. She raised her stick high and struck.
The only reason you weren’t smacked in the head was that you frantically swung your stick back at her, and clocked her right in the nose.
“Shit! Katniss!” You exclaimed. Both of your sticks clattered to the ground at the same time as she stumbled backwards and you ran to her side.
Giving your trainer and now friend a bloody nose wasn’t on your schedule at all.
Katniss had a hand clamped over her nose, blood filling her palm as she winced and groaned. Tears were brimming in her eyes but she was fighting to keep them back.
“I’m so sorry!” You blurted out. You brought her over to the first aid station and held ice against her nose until it stopped bleeding.
Finally, Katniss looked up at you after she wiped the last bit of blood away. Instead of the expected anger in her eyes, there was actually a small glint of humor.
“I thought you said you weren’t good with combat.” She said, in a surprisingly teasing voice.
“I’m not. I just panicked. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Katniss assured you, a smile teasing her lips. She rubbed the side of her nose. “I’ll just have a big bruise on my face for a week or two.”
When you realized she was messing with you, you couldn’t help but laugh and sit beside her.
“I think tomorrow, you and I should meet here, and you should train me.” Katniss told you, her voice now serious. “It’s only fair, right?”
You felt a little spark of hope in your chest and grinned. “Right.”
And so the next day you were at it again. You spent a lot of the time just teaching Katniss how to dodge, and in turn, she gave you a few tips on aim.
You’d also upgraded to an arena with some obstacles to heighten the risk.
Running after Katniss, you chased her up a rock. You were laughing but also focused; a little too focused. Katniss stopped at the top and you ran right into her, causing the two of you to topple to the ground, you landing right on top of her.
You two looked at each other, chest to chest, and faces both flushed. You were too stunned to move and Katniss had gotten the wind knocked out of her so she wasn’t able to talk.
Eventually you both just started to laugh. You stayed on top of her, shaking your head and giggling.
Finally she spoke up. “Alaina, you’re making my leg numb.” Katniss groaned teasingly. “My whole body is numb now.”
You blushed even more and rolled off of her and sat up. She sat up beside you, still panting.
“I need a minute.” Katniss breathed. Her head slowly found its way onto your shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.
You sat quietly, even more flustered by the way she was leaning into you. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and waited until she felt okay enough to stand back up.
“Don’t go apologizing yet, you’ll regret it after I beat your ass.” Katniss said as she picked her stick back up, a grin on her face. She wasn’t done, not yet.
You were surprised by her persistence but grinned back at her. “You’ll be the one begging for your life when your ass is flat on the ground.”
The two of you spent the next half hour training and sparring, eventually giving up when you were beaten and bruised.
You sat beside Katniss on the bench, wrapping up the gash on her arm with some medical tape. You were exhausted from fighting, but you didn’t want the night to end either.
“There you go.” You sealed the tape off and pressed a soft kiss to the wound. You didn’t realize what you did until it already happened and you blushed bright red. “Sorry. My mother always did that to me.. She said it made the wounds hurt less.”
“It worked.” Katniss told you, looking over her shoulder at you. “But I think you missed.”
Confusion clouded your gaze. “What do you mean?”
“You missed.” Katniss repeated, flipping her whole body to face you. She took your hand and lifted it up to her face, using your finger to point at her lips. “You missed by a lot actually, I think we need to work on your aim.”
You could’ve fainted on the spot. Your heart raced in your chest and you grew even redder. Was she… Did she really ask you to kiss her? There was no way this was happening. She couldn’t have felt the same way you did.
Katniss watched your confusion with amusement. She took your hand and pointed it to your lips.
“May I? I think I should demonstrate this too.” She murmured softly.
You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat.
Katniss smiled softly and her lips met yours with ease. The kiss was short and sweet, but something you had been longing for so badly. You smiled too and then kissed her again, and then once more for good measure.
Finally, Katniss pulled away, her hand finding yours once more but just holding it this time. She smiled lovingly at you, her face red.
There was no way you could let her win this. You two had built up a competitive streak over the last few weeks and you weren’t going to let it off here.
“How about one more round?” You asked, picking up your stick. “And then, you come back to my room, and I’ll fix your wounds there.”
Katniss blushed even more but her eyes glimmered. She let out a laugh. “You think I’ll have more wounds by then? You’re that good?”
You laughed too and helped her to her feet. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure you’d want me to kiss every single one of them either way.”
“You bet.”
The two of you returned to the arena, eagerly awaiting what would come after the spar, and knowing that your lips wouldn’t just stick to her wounds.
#katniss everdeen x reader#katniss everdeen x you#katniss everdeen x fem!reader#fem!reader#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#catching fire#the mockingjay#katniss everdeen fic#2 fics already guys I’m on a roll
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ain't no rest for the wicked — chapter one
ain't no rest for the wicked series
one: ain't no rest for the wicked
series masterlist | next chapter
Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller
words: 6.2k
summary: after an unfortunate encounter, you catch the interest of two very dangerous, very beautiful strangers.
warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), stalking, canon-typical violence, ik i usually use game joel but anna torv has me in a chokehold sry, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
You’re eager. Joel doesn’t need to push your face into Tess’s cunt; you’re already diving in when he does.
But he knows Tess likes it like that. He likes it like that. He thinks you like it, too, from the way you’re moaning while he smothers you in her wet folds.
He lets you struggle for air for a moment before yanking you up by the hair and licking the taste of her from your mouth. He lets you go after, lets you properly worship her.
Thing is, you’re not really sure how or why this is happening. Well, you know how you got here, factually. It just doesn’t make any sense.
You had been cornered in a dead-end alley by two thugs. They had knives and no ration cards and were looking to make a trade of sorts. You were trying to argue that maybe they could keep their knives; no, really, you weren’t in the market, but you’d gift them the cards.
They seemed concerned you’d go to FEDRA since they hadn’t bothered to cover their faces. You were wearing them down a little, trying to negotiate, when one of them hit the ground and was dragged into the darkness. There was nothing to obscure the cries and wet sounds of knuckles meeting soft flesh.
“I thought I told you to stay out of this part of town,” a woman said from behind them. It was like a scene from one of your noir detective novels with the cracked spines and crinkled pages—a shadowy alley with one flickering light, a mysterious savior from the darkness.
The other would-be robber turned on his heel to face the voice.
“We-we didn’t realize this was part of yours,” he said. “It’s basically Robert’s.”
“But it ain’t,” she said. “And you fuckin’ know better.”
If the apocalypse had angels, they’d look like her. Tall, commanding, and piss-your-pants terrifying. Her mousy brown hair was as lackluster and dirty as everyone else, but you wanted to run your fingers through it. Wanted to tangle your hand in it, searching out her dusty rose lips.
Reality returned in the form of a hulking man tossing the beaten crook onto the ground by his partner, who stopped mid-plea with the woman to check on them.
You tore your eyes away from her to look at the battered but still-breathing man and followed the line of his attacker’s jeans to look at the monster who had emerged from the shadows. You were startled to find him looking back at you, eyes dark and intense. He was broad and rugged, with blood smeared on his cheek and fists.
Your eyes darted between him and the woman.
She was speaking to the last man standing again. “You need Joel to show you out?” She jerked her head at tall, dark, and haunted.
You locked eyes with Apparently Joel again before he looked at the simpering man and sneered. He didn’t even have to say anything. The thug was pulling his partner to his feet and trying to flee without looking like they were fleeing.
“They hurt you?” Joel said. When you didn’t respond, not really realizing he was addressing you, he rolled his eyes. “You, girl. Did they hurt you?”
“Oh, um, no. They just took my cards, but I’m okay.” Your tongue stumbled under their scrutiny. They were maybe two of the prettiest people you’d ever seen since the world ended, and you could feel your face heating up. “But, um, thank you.”
You wavered in place, wanting to get the hell out of there. They weren’t quite blocking your path, but the space they took up meant you’d have to get close to one or both of them to leave.
“Y’mean these?” Joel drawled, holding up your small stack of cards.
“Yeah,” you said. You bit the inside of your lip. He wasn’t holding them out for you to take, and you weren’t naive enough to think they’d just give them back. Their motive had definitely not been to save you; it was just a fortunate side effect.
Joel exchanged a look with the woman, thumbing through what was your only guarantee of food for the next couple of days.
“Not much here,” he told her.
She looked you over, which only made your heart beat faster, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “That all you got?”
You nodded.
“How bad do you want them back? I heard what you were offerin’ up earlier.” She smirked.
You really did not think you could get more mortified. “I-I—”
She strolled closer to you. “Y-you what?” she mimicked. “Pretty thing like you should be more careful out here. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
You don’t know why you told her. Okay, fine, it was because she was so close and she smelled so good, and her eyes—well, you’d probably have told her anything right then.
“I’m Tess, that’s Joel,” she said and jerked her head back to where Joel leaned against the brick of a towering complex. He jerked his head in acknowledgment, jaw twitching.
“You got anyone out here looking after you?” she asked.
You opened your mouth, but seeing Joel flipping absentmindedly through the stack formerly known as your meal tickets shook you out of your stupor. Fuck, you were too fucking bi for this. And also, you hadn’t gotten laid in like. God, had it really been three years?
Anyway, your brain kicked back into gear. “Y-yeah, I’m supposed to be getting home to my family. They’re probably getting worried.”
She smirked, and you knew you were cellophane. “Alright, get goin’ then.” She looked over her shoulder at Joel. “Give her the cards, Tex.”
She didn’t move to let you by, so you sidestepped and tried not to walk too fast, even though you knew they could probably smell your fear like the predators they clearly were.
Joel didn’t hand you the cards right away, but he grabbed your arm when you were close. “You see those guys again, you tell ‘em we’ll be watchin’.”
You looked at him with what you meant to be a questioning expression, but it felt like you probably just looked dumb. He put the stack of cards into your coat pocket and let go of your bicep.
“See you around,” Tess called as you made your escape.
See you around? See you around?? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
When you get back to your apartment, you lock the door and slide to the ground, trembling as the adrenaline lets you realize just how fucking close you came to getting gutted.
And now there’s them.
“We’ll be watching,” Joel had said. Watching who? The leaden ball that used to be your stomach knows he meant you. They’ll be watching you. But fucking why?
Nobody’s home. Of course nobody’s home. You’re the sole resident of your tiny studio cube, save for the mice that you can’t keep out in the chillier seasons.
You probably could. But you don’t have the heart. They only come in the bathroom through the shitty insulation for the defunct vent. You keep the door shut with a towel jammed under it, and you leave crumbs on the peeling linoleum before bed.
It’s not something you’d ever have done before. But you know what it’s like now, to be cold and hungry in a world full of monsters.
Your brother used to say you were too soft for the world, and that was before the world went to shit. In fairness, you were a lot tougher now, for the most part.
Had to be, after you shot him in the head three weeks into the outbreak.
You jam your fists into your eyes and rub, clearing away the image with the ache.
Fuck, you almost died today. They had gotten the jump on you after you stopped to tie your sneaker. When you stood up, you weren’t alone anymore.
You’re upset about it for a few days, hustling through the crowds with your head on a swivel. After that, it joins the rest of your fears as an apparition, haunting your apartment’s groaning pipes and creaking floors.
All you can do is tell yourself the same lie of a mantra you do every night—I’m safe here.
As if such a thing were even possible.
The pendulum of your daily routine keeps on swinging. You keep your head down at work, quick with “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir,” quick on your feet when asked to hop to, and quick in hurrying home as soon as your shift ends.
Which is why you’re dismayed when you come in one morning to find out your direct supervisor was killed. Nobody cares why or how, just that there’s a spot to fill. They stuff you in it.
You deliberately did not overperform to avoid this, but if you refused, you’d be out of a work placement. The only thing keeping you from screaming was that the position got you a bump in ration class.
It’s barely a supervisory position, but each new responsibility is a sandbag tied to your ankles—you’re supposed to be on the same schedule, but inevitably, you’re there later and later each week.
So you become one of the apparitions in your apartment, half awake, floating through the motions while everything slips through your grasp.
Despite the better payout, you often don’t make it to a distribution stand before curfew. You can’t risk walking home with several days of class Bs, or you’d be dead in the gutter long before you made it back. So you take your one day’s worth and accumulate a little stack of cards under a loose floorboard.
You’re in the back of the line one evening, hoping you’ll make it to the front before they shut down. It’s raining in that way where the sun is out, though low on the horizon, the city trapped between two forces of nature.
The universe has a fucked up sense of humor because suddenly, so are you.
“Hey, sunflower,” croons a voice like honeycomb, quiet and close on your left.
You twitch forward, nearly jostling the woman in front of you, head whipping around.
“Eyes forward. Just listen,” rumbles a much deeper voice from the right.
You knew people had gotten in line behind you. You hadn’t known you’d been cornered.
“Thought you’d be eating better by now,” Tess says. “Guess you’ll have to come by for dinner. Tomorrow, right after work.”
Joel grunts in agreement. “Don’t let ‘em keep you late again.”
Then there’s silence. You wait a minute and then peek over your shoulder, but they’re gone.
What the actual fuck.
By the time you reach the front, you’ve decided it was a hallucination caused by whatever is splitting the atmosphere into two conflicting weather conditions.
But when you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your cards, there’s a single class A ticket atop your stack. When you lift it to look closer, a scrap of paper almost falls into a puddle. You snatch it and take in the small letters, all caps in smudged black ink.
It’s an address.
It’s not until you get home that you replay the “conversation.” What had Tess meant by “thought you’d be eating better by now?”
It made sense, if they were watching you, that they’d know you’d been staying late. But what made them think you were getting better rations? Were they watching you so closely that they’d seen your tickets?
There’s a warning sounding in the back of your head, about as subtle as a tornado siren. You chuckle nervously to yourself as you stand in the middle of the kitchen-living-bed-room. It was an absurd thought. There’s no way they knew you got a promotion. And there’s definitely no way they… made it happen.
Denial brings your racing heart to a slow as you plug your ears to the danger. After all, you were a midwestern girl. You didn’t cower in the basement every time the siren went off, or you’d live life underground. So unless the sky swirled sickly green, or, say, they told you they killed your boss, you wouldn’t worry.
Nothing to it, really.
You were no one, after all. No one, who was being invited—as if you had a choice—to dinner with two violent strangers.
If only it didn’t make your panties damp, maybe you’d have the sense to skip out. You could politely excuse yourself the next time they popped up over your shoulder like a fucking slasher movie.
You can’t focus all day at work. You sit at your desk, trying to fill out the inventory sheets, foot tapping, leg bouncing. Your dad always used to tease you, “you gearin’ up to take off?” when you got nervous. It was a bit like the cordyceps. The more anxious you got, the less control you had of your body, the energy spreading and blooming and fuzzing over your brain.
By the end of the day, you’re tapping fingers, twisting your seat side to side. When your boss comes over at two minutes before you’re set to leave, you know he’s about to ask you to stay for “just a bit.” But you’ve already got your jacket and backpack on, you’re sitting on the edge of the stupid squeaky rolly chair, and when he opens his mouth, you beat him to it with a laugh that’s not not hysterical.
“Have a great day!” you blurt, and you’re up and gone before he can respond.
Once outside, though, you hesitate. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shoved in your pockets. It’s not raining today, but it’s overcast in the foretelling of the encroaching winter. The scrap of paper crinkles in your fist, dampening a little as your palm becomes slick with nerves.
“You comin’ or what?” Joel says from where he’s leaning against your office building, just to the left of the exit.
“Fuck!” It comes out in a truly embarrassing squeak.
He raises an eyebrow.
“What was the point of the little magic trick,” you waggle your fingers at him, “with the address if you were going to pick me up anyway?”
He pushes off the wall with his shoulder and starts walking, leaving you to jog after him. “Tess thought you seemed a bit squirrely.”
“If I didn’t want to get hit by a car, I’d get out of the fuckin’ road,” you say, a triggered muscle memory morphing another one of your father’s favorite phrases. Though, it was usually after he plowed over a fuzzy little guy, and you cried about it.
Joel shoots a glance at you over his shoulder. “Who’s the car?”
Your face heats. “What?”
He shakes his head but lets you off the hook. There’s something dangerous about the quirk of his lips, though.
You follow him as he weaves through the streets and crowds. People move out of his way, a few even scrambling off in another direction. He doesn’t miss them, eyeing and seeming to make a mental note each time.
You do not want to know why they were running.
His little jumpscare and the ensuing amount of focus it took not to get lost in the throng of others helped tone down your anxiety. Instead, you become very distracted by the way his denim button-down, stretched across his shoulder blades like it was clinging on out of the same fear of Joel as those runners.
God, he’s broad. Your mouth waters a little, thinking about running your hands across the breadth of his shoulders. Maybe digging your fingernails in a little.
He checks again to make sure you are still behind him and catches you moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue; the hungry look in your eyes matched by the way you were clenching the straps of your backpack with strained knuckles.
Luckily, he misreads it. He shakes his head again. “Calm down, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” But it’s invalidated a little when he turns back forward and shrugs a little to himself, head jerking to the side as if to say, “Well, probably not.”
You weren’t scared, but you are now.
He doesn’t wait for you as he climbs the stairs of the apartment building, but he leaves the door ajar for you to follow through a minute later.
“She try to chicken out?” Tess asked Joel with a shit-eating grin.
“No!” you protest. “I was comin’.”
“Were you?” Tess steps into your space, leaning forward. “Good girl,” she murmurs and reaches over your shoulder to shove the door shut. You stumble back a little, colliding with the reminder that your escape route is gone.
Worse yet, you have to witness them share a look when her words send a shudder through you.
She laughs, a soft huff of amusement on an exhale, and turns and walks away.
You stay glued to the ground in front of the door.
Joel’s still standing in the living room, arms folded. “Get goin’,” he says when you don’t move.
You shuffle under the arch where Tess disappeared into a small dine-in kitchen, with Joel suddenly close enough behind you that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He reaches past you and pulls out a chair at the table.
You try to scoot out of his way so he can sit, and he sighs, shaking his head, and guides you into the seat by the shoulder. His palm covers the whole joint, splayed across with his fingers brushing your collarbone.
A shocked “um” slips past your lips as you sit.
“Um?” he says, eyebrow quirked.
You’re burning. You’re on the edge of a fucking volcano, apparently, with the way you’re boiling under your jacket. You shuck it off, shaking your head. “Um, nothing.”
Tess sits across from you, elbows on the table and hands folded. You squirm under her steady focus, only to startle again when Joel sets a plate in front of each of you.
“You always so jumpy, sunflower?” she asks, taking a glass of water from Joel when he comes back over. He sets another next to you.
“No,” you say weakly.
Joel sits down between you with his own plate and glass, and your head snaps to look at him. He raises an eyebrow again. “You sure about that, sunflower?”
“Um, no,” you say. And then, stupidly, you tell them your name again, because it seems like maybe they forgot.
“I know,” is all Tess says.
Joel snorts.
“Be nice,” Tess says, still not taking her eyes off you.
Vaguely, you know she’s doing it on purpose. They both are. They want you off-guard and on-edge.
“Eat,” she tells you, finally breaking away to dig into her plate. Joel’s already halfway through his, not bothering to wait.
You look down, blinking at the sight before you. There’s mashed potatoes with gravy. There’s corn. There’s mystery meat, but it looks like some kind of roast, and most shocking of all, there are spices.
It’s definitely all still canned rations, but they’ve taken the effort to do something with them. The meat’s been broiled, and the juices saved for the gravy. The corn is roasted. And the fucking spices.
You eat a lot faster than you mean to, eyes wide. You usually eat your rations cold out of the can before passing out for bed. This is… this is incredible.
“Slow down,” Joel says. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
“Where’d you get herbs?” you blurt.
It’s Tess’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure you want to know?”
“Oh. No, thank you.” Definitely not. You definitely do not want to know anything even potentially incriminating. You’re starting to feel like just being here is enough to get you in trouble.
The table falls into a stilted silence, and you have a bizarre thought. A memory, useless information from the before dug up by the wet blob of anxiety you try to pass off as a brain.
They’re beautiful and terrifying. They don’t seem the type to do something without getting something out of it. They brought you into their lair, and you ate from their table.
Your grandmama’s tales don’t seem very far-fetched right now. What was it she always told you to do? Hang a horseshoe over your door?
Where the fuck were you going to get a horseshoe in post-apocalyptic Boston?
The thought is so absurd that you laugh out loud, drawing both sets of eyes to you at once.
“Sorry, sorry, I just—remembered something, it’s not—it’s nothing.” You bury your face in your hands.
“Stop glowering; you’re going to give her a nervous breakdown,” Tess says to Joel.
“She’s scared of you, too,” he says simply, sipping from his water.
“Is that true, pretty girl? Are you afraid of us?”
You lift your head up, and though your instincts to run like hell are flaring up, you figure there’s no point in lying. “Well, yeah.”
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Tess says, and then, in a horrible moment of deja vu, she seems to rethink that and shrug with one shoulder and a tilt of her head.
You look between them. “That’s not comforting.”
“I mean, we won’t hurt you unless you want us to,” she says. Her smile reminds you of a fox.
“Why would I—oh.” You purse your lips and feel like you’re shrinking.
Joel gets up and clears the dishes but doesn’t retake his seat. Instead, he looms behind you, both broad hands on the back of your chair. “We’re not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to,” he rumbles close to your ear. “But we think you might want to.”
“What do you say, sunflower?”
It slips out. You don’t mean to say it; it’s just a habit deeply engrained from work. But when your mouth opens to ask what exactly they mean, you say “yes, ma’am” instead.
Joel chuckles, a dark and dangerous thing that blows his hot breath over the exposed side of your neck. You shudder but don’t dare look away from Tess, whose grin has turned into smug pleasure.
“Told ya,” she says to Joel, standing and coming around the side of the table to where you are and taking your chin in one hand. She presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “I know a good girl when I see one.”
She tilts your head up so you watch. “And a good boy,” she says before kissing Joel.
He melts into it, and you moan. Like for real life, out loud, watching them kiss. She pulls away from him when she can’t hold back her smirk.
His eyes are soft when he watches her step back. She tightens her grip on your face.
“All yours, baby,” she says to him.
The softness is gone when he looks at you. His eyes are dark and hungry, and he takes your face in his own hands before kissing you. Unlike the sweet exchange with Tess, this kiss is bruising, and he licks into you without hesitation. One of his hands tangles in your hair and pulls your head to the side so he can bite his way down your neck.
You’ve got whiplash, and he grins when he lets you go and takes in your glazed eyes and swollen lips.
“C’mon,” Tess says, turning to go back to the living room. Joel tugs you up and pushes you in front of him to follow Tess. You yelp when he pinches your ass, though you probably should have expected it.
Tess sits on the couch, and your mouth goes dry as Joel kneels at her feet. You drop to yours, and Tess quirks an eyebrow at Joel.
“That how you want her?”
He shakes his head and pushes you down so you’re bent over in supplication below him.
“Don’t move unless I tell ya,” Joel says. “You need or want to stop for any reason, just say so. Got it?”
You moan at his words, no longer having the wherewithal for embarrassment. You’re starting to become very aware of your place in this. And it’s fucking thrilling.
He lifts your head by a handful of hair. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, letting your head back down and running his hand over your cheek.
“You like havin’ a little toy for yourself, baby?” Tess asks him, running her fingers through his hair and tugging a little.
He moans. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”
“See, sunflower, Joel here’s been a real good boy, but sometimes he needs to play a little rough. Ain’t that right?” She nods his head with her grip on his hair.
“Please,” he whimpers.
You’re soaked. You’re fucking soaked, and all they’ve really done is talk.
“You wanna be a good girl for us?” Tess asks.
It’s your turn to whimper. “Yes, ma’am. Uh. And sir.”
“We’ll go easy on you today,” she muses. “What do you need from her, baby?”
Joel doesn’t need to think it over. “Need to fuck that pretty little mouth,” he says.
It’s so crass that you flush, wet gathering rapidly between your thighs. You squirm a little.
“Ok,” Tess agrees. “You can have my sloppy seconds.”
And then she’s tugging her pants down, letting Joel lean forward to grab them as she lifts her hips. He yanks them off and folds them, setting them to the side.
You keep your cheek pressed to the carpet where he put you, watching the motions with rapt awe. You’re betrayed, however, by your wriggling feet.
“S’matter?” Joel says.
“What? Um. Nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow, but it doesn’t spark anything. Your eyes dart back and forth between them.
“I’m gonna let that slide, since you’re getting used to it. But if you address me, you better do it proper.”
“Oh.” The realization leaves you on an exhale. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Atta girl,” he says with a little pinch to your chin.
Tess nudges him with her foot and shoots a laden look at where you’ve fallen very still, and the taut line of your spine has softened a little.
She smirks.
It doesn’t last, though. You’re biting your lip and looking at him while your right foot taps against the floor.
He turns back to Tess, rolling her panties down until he can tug them off her feet and tuck them neatly into the fold of her pants.
He reaches over and presses his thumb to your bottom lip until it pops free from your teeth. Your mouth falls open in its wake.
“Up,” he says.
You push up onto your knees and watch as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to her cunt. He nuzzles in a little, nose nudging her clit as he tastes.
She lets him for a few seconds before tugging him back by the hair. “Don’t be selfish.”
He looks at you and jerks his head.
You shuffle forward, and he puts both hands on your shoulders to shove you between her thighs, arranging you so he can kneel, chest flush to your back.
You shiver.
“Ever eaten pussy?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless, while he leans around, boxing you in with his arms while he spreads her lips. You take in the way she glistens, and your mouth waters. “It’s been a while, though.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, deep and close to your ear. “S’like riding a bike.” He strokes a finger over her clit, and her cunt clenches around nothing.
“I don’t know how to ride a bike,” you say, and wonder why.
Joel, to his credit, just shakes his head and ignores you.
“She likes a little figure eight here,” he says, head still bowed conspiratorially as if she couldn’t hear every word. “And if you switch between fast n’ gentle here,” he presses his finger to the first knuckle inside her.
He pulls it out and pinches her labia between his index finger and thumb. “Suck here, and bite soft.”
It’s like they’ve dragged you in from a blizzard. Everything is so hot; your pulse throbs in your fingers, and you’re sweating as if bundled in front of a hearth.
“Please?” You whisper. You’re not sure who you’re asking.
Tess laughs, a soft and pleased thing you haven’t heard yet. You want more.
And that’s how you ended up here, somehow still fully clothed, swirling your tongue against her clit.
Joel pushes your shoulders down so you’re bent over at a sharper angle. He solves the clothes problem by tugging your jeans and underwear down to your knees.
“Go on,” Tess tells him around a soft moan.
You’ve worked your tongue gently inside before diving in for more, lapping at her like they hadn’t just fed you the best meal you’ve had in years.
Your efforts stutter when Joel’s hot mouth latches on to your cunt. You cry out but get your act together quickly, nuzzling in like he had done earlier.
Her fingers grasp at your head, grinding your face down where she needs. At the same time, Joel has his hands around your thighs, fingers pressing tight enough to leave a mark while he feasts.
You can’t tell, as focused as you are on your own task, but he’s studying the way you twitch and gush with each motion. He’s a quick learner and soon has you struggling to keep up.
When you press two fingers into her cunt, Tess rewards you with her orgasm as you suck and lick her clit. You take everything she has to offer, which is when Joel yanks you away from her to share in the indulgence. He works a second orgasm from her very quickly. When he’s done, he pushes you to the ground and returns to work at you.
“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he growls. “Come on, give it to me.”
And you do. He’s relentless, and your body responds to each touch from his broad fingers and broader tongue. You’re vaguely aware of the scrape of his teeth on your clit, the ferocious way he slams his fingers into your aching core as you shake apart around him.
He’s hesitant to pull away when you come down from it, but you’re squirming a little from the intensity, and he’s got a dark look in his eyes anyway. “My turn?” he says.
“Go ahead, baby,” Tess says. She’s sprawled languidly on the couch, one hand between her legs, gently rubbing at her clit while she enjoys the show.
Joel pulls his cock out, and even though you’re exhausted to the point where you can’t hear your thoughts over the pounding of your heart, you lurch forward immediately.
It’s gorgeous and engorged, impatient after waiting so long. You reach for it first, one hand cupping his heavy balls and the other sliding down the velvety length of him. Your mouth follows close behind, licking at the slit.
“Think you can take it all?” he says. “You ever deepthroated someone my size?”
“No,” you admit, “but I’m a quick learner.”
His responding grin is wicked. “Good. I got a lot to teach ya.” And without further acclimation or dramatics, he grabs the back of your head and pulls until his cock hits the back of your throat.
You gag, of course, coughing and sputtering. He eases up to let you back, but you don’t pull all the way off. You take a minute to breathe around him and swallow him back down.
He lets you set the pace for a minute, groaning as you bob up and down, swirling your tongue around and moaning at the way his salty musk mixes with the sweet tang of Tess.
He lets you pull off, even, watching to see what you do when left to your own devices. You stroke his cock in one hand and cradle his balls in the other, nuzzling and licking them before taking them in your mouth one by one to roll on your tongue.
He moans but tugs you away after you properly worship both.
“Y’got a sweet little mouth, sunflower. But I need ya chokin’ on it now. Just stay nice and open for me.”
With no further preamble, he holds your head with both hands and fucks into your mouth.
You’re not too surprised to find yourself on the edge of an orgasm. Back in the day, when you were still trying to pretend normal life was possible and playing at being a girlfriend, sucking cock had been a favorite pastime.
Granted, Joel’s cock was another beast entirely. Maybe literally. Your brain pulls itself together long enough to reconsider the fae theory before he fucks the thought out.
It’s a fucking mess. You can barely close your lips around him, drool slick on your chin. The only mercy he grants is when a particularly rough thrust has you tapping his leg, afraid you might puke.
He pulls back, hand tipping your chin up to check you over, but you’ve recovered already and strain to get your mouth back around him.
He relinquishes, letting you slide him down as far as you can.
He chuckles. “Looks like we got a real cockslut here,” he says to Tess.
She grins. “I dunno; I think she might just be a slut in general. Pretty needy for my cunt, too.”
His hand strokes your cheek as he picks the pace back up. “That’s a good girl. Fuckin’ take it. Shit,” he groans as he works deeper yet.
“Ah, fuck,” he gasps, tearing his eyes from you to seek out Tess. “Please?”
“Please, what, baby?”
“Please, can I cum down her throat?”
“Not yet,” she says.
He whimpers but doesn’t dare disobey. His thrusts are frantic and harsh as he fights the urge.
“Sunflower, d’you think you can cum when he does?”
Your eyes roll back in your head. “Mhmmm,” you moan around him.
“Alright, baby. Give it to her.”
And fuck, does he ever. He buries himself deep, and for a moment, you think you’re not actually going to be able to handle it. But the feeling of him twitching and the sound of his pleasure are enough to push you over the edge, overriding your gag reflex.
“Oh fuck,” he repeats. “Oh shit. That’s it. Fucking take it all.”
When he pulls his softening cock from you, you sway forward a little. He catches you with hands on your shoulders before sitting on the ground in front of the couch and pulling you roughly into his lap. From the couch above, Tess reaches to run her hands through his hair before rubbing a hand on your shoulder.
You wrap a hand around hers, hoping she won’t pull away. She doesn’t, instead tucking a thumb over your hand to hold you there. Your head tilts back against Joel’s shoulder as her other hand cups the back of his neck.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head and then leans his back to rest against her hand.
The sun has tucked down behind the rise of the city, and the post-orgasmic reality is settling on your shoulders. As much as they had made a place for you for that blissful fragment of time, you’re suddenly hyperaware of your intrusion.
“Where’s, um. Where’s your bathroom?” You ask.
Tess directs you, and you pry yourself from their warmth and tug your jeans back up. You wipe away the evidence of your adventure and stick your face under the cold faucet to clear the lingering haze from your brain.
They’re still sitting when you come back out. Joel’s on the floor with his knees bent and legs spread, leaning back to where Tess has his head in her lap. She’s running idle fingers through his hair.
You don’t want to linger and get kicked out. It’s not that you don’t know what this is; you just want it to end on your terms. When you shoulder your bag to broadcast your intentions, Joel gets to his feet.
“Let me walk ya home,” he says.
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
He scowls. “It’s gettin’ dark.”
You give him a wan smile and rub the back of your neck. “I’ve been walking myself home in this city for years.”
It’s not like you’re stupid enough to think they don’t know where you live. But this way, you can still pretend.
“Yeah, and look where that got you the other night,” he says.
Tess stands and stretches and nudges Joel. “Down, boy,” she teases. “Let ‘er go.”
“But really,” she says while you tug on your boots. “We thought you’d be eating better. You need another promotion?”
You look between her and Joel. “No, I do not.”
“It’s an easy enough problem to solve,” he says with a shrug.
Oh god. “No, please don’t solve anything. Let’s, uhh, let’s just never talk about this again.”
“We can just—“ she starts, but you plug your ears.
It’s too late. Joel’s smirk could silence the birds. And you know, once you’ve heard the whistle, the twister’ll be deciding your fate soon.
“Suit yourself,” Joel says.
“Okay, well, um,” you say, backing into the hall. “This has been really great and so weird, but, um, it’s almost curfew and—“
“See you later, sunflower,” Tess says as you close the door behind you. It doesn’t sound like a casual, rote farewell. It sounds like a promise.
next chapter
*title from "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" by Cage the Elephant
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x tess servopoulos#joel x tess#joel x reader x tess#joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos#tess servopoulos x reader#tess servopoulos x you#ain't no rest for the wicked series#the last of us fic#the last of us smut
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Return to the Light
A Bad Batch Post S2 Oneshot
Gif by @spacemagicandlaserswords
Hunter x femaleJedi!reader
Summary: Being separated from one another had taken it's toll and the search had been hard but in all the darkness, a glimmer of hope remains
Warnings: Mentioned canon-typical violence, swearing, my made-up timeline, limited use of y/n, some choice interrogation techniques, sad flashbacks, mentions/descriptions of torture, mentions of death, mentions/descriptions of injury and sickness, reader is not in the greatest of headspaces and takes it out on Lyra, talks of self-sabotage/sacrifice and self-loathing, my interpretation of all things Force, dodgy Star Wars medical techniques, slight manipulation/miscommunication, kissing, overall a pretty angsty time but there's some fluff sprinkled in
Masterlist for S1 and S2
Word Count: 18.2K (don't look at me, idk what happened lol)
Rating: 18+
Author's note: Huge shoutout and thanks to my friend @burningfieldof-clover who supported and provided many helpful tips as I struggled though this!! And its finally here! I am so sorry it took so long but I hope you all enjoy it despite the wait! I have another one planned to follow that hopefully will not take as long haha so I'm excited to get to work on that too! Also praying that by posting this, I can manifest a S3 trailer haha
Nelvaan
Ever since the disaster of Ord Mantell and from the second they’d managed to flee; Hunter had been doing everything he could to find you and Omega again. He’d tormented himself with the various possibilities of what could be happening to the two of you. Every day he’d been apart from you both had seen him fighting with himself. Possible informants and Imperial soldiers he could cope with just fine, what had been proving to be a struggle was fighting the complete hopelessness that had overwhelmed him as the weeks dragged on with no sign or information on the whereabouts of either of you. Every failed lead had left the bitter taste of disappointment and there were times when he felt like he would be crushed by the weight each defeat brought.
Things had started to shift however when they came across the various wanted posters and holoimages of you that were strewn across the galaxy, particularly in the Outer Rim. So, when Echo had decided to do some work on his own and went back to working with his contacts within the Empire and reported back that you hadn’t actually been taken, he’d felt that flicker of hope he hadn’t been able to find for a long time and the plan changed. Echo would continue to utilise his allies in the search for Omega whilst he and Wrecker looked for you. Once Hunter had you back, the four of you would reconvene and find Omega.
To get to Omega, they needed your skills and… and Hunter just needed you but there were moments in the early stages of the search where it seemed impossible. Knowing you were out on your own helped with finding his way out of the darkness but knowing you were alive and finding you alive were very different things, the latter was proving to be incredibly challenging.
You may had stopped hiding what you were, but you were remarkably good at making an impression somewhere but still finding a way to go unseen. Every location they’d gone to, they’d been too late, and you appeared to have moved on. You never stuck around anywhere for too long and it was making things a lot harder.
The most recent trail of half-baked information he and Wrecker had followed had led them to this pawn shop- ‘Hidden Gems’. According to rumour, you’d been in asking about them, yet another piece of knowledge that only added to his frustration that they always seemed to miss you by a matter of weeks. Hunter opened the door, but the owner’s back was still turned to them as they pashed the threshold.
Kedrin heard the bell clang as the door opened and shut. “I’ll be with you in a flash.” He said as he finished writing up the recent sales. He closed the book and turned around with a salesman smile on his face, but that and his words of welcome instantly died on his lips as he saw who had walked in.
Immediately upon seeing these men, Kedrin was reminded of a description given to him a while ago by the Jedi everyone had been talking about and he did not want them here. He did not want to deal with this anymore. “Ah, well actually gentlemen, I was just closing up for the afternoon. You’ll have to come back.” He said, wringing his hands nervously as the bigger one split off and began wandering the shop whilst the one with the bandana stayed where he was.
Hunter leaned his back against the door and lazily played with his vibroblade. He knew by the beads of sweat on the owner’s brow and the anxious pounding of his heart that they were in the right place. “Where is she?” He asked, his voice low and hostile as he turned the sign from open to closed, his eyes never leaving the owner.
Kedrin retreated to behind the counter. “I um…” His throat was as dry as sand and he swallowed to get some moisture back so he could speak properly. “I don’t know who-” He cleared his throat again. “Who you are referring to. Perhaps-”
“There’s not point in lying to him. If I can tell you are, he definitely can.”
Kedrin’s eyes darted to the bigger one who had offered the advice, but he had to bring his attention back to the tattooed soldier who was staring at him with such cold and dark eyes that fear creeped up his spine, making his hair stand on end and goosebumps rise on his flesh.
“Where is she?” Hunter asked again as he pushed off the door and steadily walked towards the man.
“I’m- I’m afraid I don’t- don’t have the answer you seek.” Kedrin stuttered. As the soldier drew closer, Kedrin reached under the table and grabbed the blaster he kept concealed there. But, as he lifted it out, in the blink of an eye, the weapon was shot out of his hand and his head was smacked down and being pressed harshly into the countertop- a strong hand on the back of his neck reducing his struggles to break free to be no more than a pitiful effort. His resistance ceased altogether when he felt the sharp tip of a blade being pushed into the back of his hand and he cried out in discomfort as the metal broke the skin and blood began to spill from the cut but there would be no respite for him.
“Try again.” Hunter hissed as he brought his head down to the man’s level.
But all Kedrin could do was whimper in pain.
“She was here. We know she was here. Where did she go?” Hunter growled into his ear, applying more pressure to the point of the blade, ignoring the agonised yelp.
“I don’t know!” Kedrin protested in distress, his voice slightly muffled as his lips touched the cold material of the counter. He hated this part of the job, it wasn’t his fault he had access to other ports of information, it just worked out that way and for the most part he hadn’t gotten into too much bother. But ever since that Jedi woman had come to him with her threats, he’d vowed to himself that he would turn over a new leaf. He’d leave this element of his work behind, and he wouldn’t just be a pushover to whatever or whoever came in demanding his extra services. He felt the hand leave the back of his neck. He uneasily straightened up and tenderly analysed his injury on his hand but was grateful to see that it had felt and looked worse than it was. He took out a handkerchief from the lapel of his jacket and wrapped it up before he tidied his hair in an attempt to regain some calm and control over the situation. “Now, I ask that you leave this instance before I call the proper authorities.” He demanded, but he couldn’t shake the quiver in his speech which removed any forcefulness. He walked around the counter and gestured to the door.
Hunter ignored his requested. He simply took a step back and nodded sharply to Wrecker who cracked his knuckles and neck in intimidation.
Well, he could always start next week. “Wait wait wait! I actually might have something!” Kedrin back peddled fearfully as the larger one stalked towards him and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, raising him to his tiptoes. “My brother runs our partner pawn shop on Christophsis and he’s said there’s been Jedi activity there. Apparently, it’s been going on for a while now. Could be who you’re looking for?”
Wrecker glanced back at Hunter who signalled to him to drop the man.
Hunter silently turned on his heels and led the way out of the shop and back to the Marauder. He’d been powerless for far too long and had failed one too many times but that wasn’t going to happen anymore.
This time they weren’t going to miss you.
--
Christophsis
When the hour had finally got late enough, you grabbed your blaster and sheathed your vibroblade and made the final adjustments to your armour before you sneakily opened your door to dark and empty main room of the run-down apartment. You pulled your hood and mask up as you stepped out and headed for the exit.
You got as far as activating the panel for the door to open before the lights turned on.
“You’re going out again.”
You closed the door and huffed out an irritated breath. You swivelled on your heels to see Lyra standing in the doorway of her room. You tugged down your mask. “Yeah… and?”
“And I thought after the last time, you were going to take some time and-”
“You know I can’t do that.” You interrupted icily.
“You’ve barely recovered. I just think-”
“I’ve recovered enough.”
“It’s just one more night. If not for your sake, then do it for mine… please.”
“We’ve already settled here for you, didn’t we?” You retorted.
“After I begged you too! If it were up to you, we’d still be living on that hellhole of a ship and never staying anywhere for more than two weeks! And I don’t know if what we have right now is all that better!”
“I gave you an out months ago! Back on Ord Mantell and again on Corellia! You didn’t have to follow me!” You snapped angrily.
Lyra scoffed. “Corellia was when you finally deemed it fit to fill me in on the whole story after I saw you choke the life out of a man without laying a hand on him. I had known something was off in the weeks since Ord Mantell and then Corellia told me you needed someone. Forgive me if I wanted to stick around to try to help you!”
“I don’t need saving.” You said tightly. “And anyway, he got what was coming to him.” You said utterly uncaring with a simple shrug of your shoulders. “Now, can I go now? Are you done scolding me?”
Lyra looked at you imploringly. “Don’t you see what this is doing to you? You’re losing who you are and it’s-”
You couldn’t listen to the speech again. “I’m not doing this with you again, Lyra. Just go back to bed and I’ll be back later.”
Lyra looked at you in disbelief. “Later? Last time you said that I didn’t see you for three weeks and you came back tortured and half-dead! You’re no good to them if you die in the process of finding them!”
You just shook your head and lifted your mask and turned to open the door again.
“I can’t watch you kill yourself for this anymore.” Lyra said quietly to your back, her words laced with pity and sadness.
“Then don’t look.” With that, you stepped outside into the night.
--
Kirion stepped into the small kitchen in the back of his shop and sifted through the second cupboard. Instinct meant he didn’t need the light and he found what he was looking for.
“Trouble sleeping?”
Kirion yelped and dropped his mug. It smashed to the ground but that was not his concern anymore. The dark outline by the window was. “I don’t want any trouble.” His voice trembling.
“Do you know what they say about people who can’t sleep at night, Kirion?” You asked as you hopped off the counter, the yellow hue of the streetlights coming through the window illuminating your figure.
“N- no.”
“Plagued by a guilty conscience. The crushing weight of knowing you’re not doing enough, or you’ve gone too far can get to you. Or say, being a pawn shop owner intent on ripping everyone off for that extra bit of profit.”
Kirion cleared his throat nervously. He didn’t know how you knew that, but you’d gathered quite the reputation in the time you’d lived here, and he didn’t want you around. “Why are you here then?” He asked shakily. “Guilty conscience too?”
You laughed humourlessly. “You get the pleasure of my company because you have something for me.” Somewhere deep down, you had a different answer, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to bring that to the surface. It would get you nowhere.
“I don’t. I swear I-”
“Oh, this’ll go a lot better if you don’t lie to me.” You said, your voice hardening. You patted him roughly on the shoulder as you stepped past him.
“I don’t know if I have the information you’re looking for.”
“You know who I am?” You flicked the light on and waltzed into the storefront filled with clear glass cases with various pawned off items. Heirlooms, artifacts, jewellery, random items- all seemed to have a place here, whether they were genuine or not. You beckoned him to come in.
“It’s um kind of hard not to.” He wringed his hands anxiously as he followed you in and signalled to the front of the store. He took that opportunity to press the button under the table by the credit register.
You followed his stare and chuckled as you saw the backs of the posters in the front window. “I can sign one for you later.” You started scanning variety of items he possessed. “Quite the business you’ve got here.”
“Keeps-” He swallowed nervously. “Keeps the credits coming in.”
“Shame a lot of it is all garbage.” You smashed your elbow against one of the glass panels. “Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber?” You snickered as you picked up the item and sure enough, you got nothing from it. “Please. Nothing here but a bunch of dressed up metal material and a design anyone with access to an old holonet could copy. Then again, you probably knew that, but it doesn’t stop you underpaying for it and then charging a steep fee for the poor sucker that falls for it.”
Kirion gulped as he watched you continue your assault on his store.
You shattered a few more glass panes with claims of ‘Jedi artifacts’ in them. “Some of this is just embarrassing. You actual convince people that this stuff is worth the price?”
“What do you want?” Kirion interjected swiftly as he saw you getting ready to break another one.
You paused your movement and angled yourself to face him. You mimed applause. “That’s the right question. See, you gave yourself away earlier, Kirion. I’d expect you to know who I am, but to know that I’m after information? You had no way of knowing that, not officially and it’s the fact that you do know, that makes you of use to me.”
“Of use?” Kirion repeated fretfully.
You stalked closer to the desk register, the broken glass crunching beneath your feet. “You run this place in a back alley and get everyone from all walks of life coming in here pawning off their shit that you then rip off, but I really don’t give a fuck about that. What I do give a fuck about is that you hear things. People will tell you their stories, the things they’ve seen and overheard in the streets or on their travels. You are a fountain of knowledge of the underground happenings in this galaxy. Or, at the very least, you know people that run in the circles that have what I’m searching for.
“I-”
You placed a finger on his lips to shush him. “Here’s how this will work: So long as you don’t lie to me, and you don’t call the Empire, I won’t hurt you and you get to keep your life. Are we clear?” You removed your finger.
“C-crystal.” Kirion stuttered, very much regretting what he’d done in the beginning of this meeting.
“Good.” You released a short breath. “Now, I’m looking for a group of clones. They don’t look like the ones you may come across these days, rare as that seems to be now. One wears a red bandana and has a tattoo on the left-side of his face. Looks like this.” You pointed to the white insignia on your top. “But it’s black. The other is tall and bald with a scar on his left temple and he’s blind in his left eye. Heard of anyone like that?”
“I don’t know. No one like that’s come here.” Kirion shifted his feet awkwardly.
You tossed your head back in aggravation. “I really don’t have time for this.” You summoned the Force and lifted him against the wall and started to compress his airway. “I told you; I don’t like liars.” You gave him a pitying stare as he couldn’t help but clutch desperately at his throat. “Wanna try again?” You relaxed your hold slightly to give him the chance to speak.
“Okay- they- they- could be- be- coming here.” He gasped.
“They’re coming here?” You double checked as you eased your grip and let him get his feet back on the ground.
Kirion panted as he felt the invisible hold around his neck loosen. “Yes, my other store got a visit from some men that match what you’re saying. The manager there told them there was a Jedi here and called me earlier to let me know they might pass this way. That’s all I know, please, get out!”
You narrowed your eyes at him because despite his now honest words, you could tell he was getting anxious, and it wasn’t all because of you now. It was then that you heard the familiar pounding footsteps grow closer and halt outside the front door. You released an exasperated sigh and tutted. “Kirion… I thought we had an understanding.”
“No- wait! I-”
You called on the Force and snapped his neck before he had a chance to finish his plea and a second later, you heard the door crash open.
“You’re-”
“Under arrest?” You finished as you watched Kirion’s limp body slide to the floor. You heaved a sigh and turned to face the squad of ten stormtroopers that were lining the rows and blocking the path between you and the door.
“Get-”
“On my knees? Place my hands behind my head?” You interrupted, boredom evident in your tone as you crossed your arms and leaned against the till counter.
The troopers faltered slightly at your blatant dismissiveness of them.
You pretended to look confused for a moment. “Now, I can never keep track of where the Empire is in that whole phasing out thing so I always gotta ask this- any of you got a CT number?” You straightened up and hovered your hand over your blaster. “It’s always much simpler when none of you do.”
“Last chance, Jedi!” One of them called out as they readjusted their stances.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah… you all say the same thing.”
--
You quietly walked into your place and pulled your hood and mask down, ignoring the sting of pain as the material caught on the cuts on the bridge of your nose and your lip. You ran your tongue along your mouth and could still taste the harsh metallic taste of blood as it continued to ooze from the wound. Your nose was also still bleeding so you turned on the dim kitchen light to find something to stop it.
“Thought you’d be outta here by now.” You commented cooly without looking up as you heard her door open, and the soft padding of footsteps walk towards you. You fished out a cloth and ran it under some cold water and wiped away the congealed blood on your face before you held it to your nose.
“We don’t have a ship anymore, remember?” Lyra reminded you as she sat by the small kitchen table.
You’d forgotten about that. After the two of you had found this place, you’d sold it to someone who claimed to have word from Hunter. Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a rather bad deal and it was your first experience of dealing with the Imperials stationed here. “There are transports.”
Lyra just shook her head at you. “You still don’t get it.”
“Don’t really see what there is to get. Just hop on the next ship outta here, I won’t stop you.”
“I care about you, dumbass. Whatever is happening to you, I can’t just leave you alone in it.” Lyra replied wearily. Part of her wanted to, she’d even started packing a bag this time, but after these months spent with you and especially after what you went through recently told her you were one step away from a full-on breakdown and whether you would admit it or not, you still needed someone.
You ground out a sigh and stared down at the floor. She kept doing this. She kept having that faith in you that you couldn’t see but you didn’t deserve it. She should leave, she’d be better off without you but you didn’t have it in you to give her that final push. So, you worked on freezing her out, pushing her away until she realised you weren’t good for her or anyone else. But she refused, she was still here with you, and you couldn’t fathom why.
“Did you get what you were looking for?” Lyra asked, deliberately avoiding asking the state of the people that had clearly got in your way tonight. She’d seen what you were capable of but found that living in as much ignorance as she could saved her a lot of trouble. That and reminding herself you were not yourself right now.
“Yup.” You rinsed out the cloth and got ready to move into your room.
“I need to check your stitches. You weren’t ready for a fight yet.”
You knew what she would find if she looked. “No, you don’t.”
“(Y/N), let me see.” Lyra caught your arm as you went to move past her.
You huffed out another irritated breath but took your armour off before you lifted your first layer over your head. “Knock yourself out.”
She pushed up your vest top. “Yeah, you ripped a few open.” Lyra winced as she saw the lines of blood secreting from the sore and irritated looking now open wounds on your back.
“It’s fine.” You said dismissively. The pain wasn’t bothering you. You needed to come up with a plan of how to know when they got here.
“It’s not. Sit down.” She insisted as she went for the medkit. She had gotten well-acquainted with the item over the months, the most recent incident in particular had really tested her skills.
You released a resigned sigh and sat across from her and let her start cleaning them and closing them up again.
“They’re coming here, Lyra.” You found yourself whispering into the silence.
Lyra paused her process. “You’ve been told that before. The same thing happened on Cermau a couple months ago and it didn’t pan out. You-”
“I know what happened on Cermau. This isn’t like that.” You said defensively. It had to be different. You thought to yourself. You weren’t sure how many more dead ends you could take.
Lyra finished up the last few stitches. “You can’t know that.”
As soon as you felt her complete that last stitch, you stood. “Yes, I can.” You grabbed your armour and strode had over to your room without another word and shut the door.
You braced your hands against it and took a few deep breaths. You did have a way you could do but it had been so long since you’d gone near it, and you didn’t know if you could cope with the failure it might bring.
--
You settled in the middle of your crappy bed, the mattress sinking to the bedframe beneath as you shifted around to attempt to find some level of comfort. When you had found what you figured would be the ‘best’ spot, you crossed your legs and placed your hands on your knees.
You inhaled slowly, deeply, blocking out all the distractions of your mind and the sounds of the late-night life outside, and closed your eyes. You reached into the Force but what met you wasn’t any familiar signature. It was scenes and voices that you had tried so hard to forget.
Flashes of the people you’d hurt… you’d killed.
All that happened to you a week ago.
Tech hanging below the rail car.
Plan 99.
Omega, unconscious and injured on the ground.
Such an exquisite creature.
The torture he made you go through... and enjoyed.
His words to Hunter- To lose one of your own, it must weigh heavily on you as their leader.
Omega being carried off.
Hemlock letting you and Hunter have one last goodbye before you were taken away.
I love you.
No, it was too much. You couldn’t do it. Your breathing was shaky as you tore yourself out. You wiped the cold sweat from your palms. “Come on, get it together.” You told yourself as you took a long calming breath. You needed to do this right.
You centred yourself and went again. Except this time, all you could see was a vast space of darkness. No light, no hope, only darkness. Was this to be your fate? To be tormented by the fact you had let yourself fall and there was nothing left for you. How could you find them in this? You had no light left in you to give.
Spark.
You felt yourself twitch in discomfort. You knew that voice. That name. Only one person ever called you that.
Spark, you’re still not focused.
Let go of your anger. You’re not as lost as you view yourself to be.
No, no it couldn’t be. How could it be? No, this wasn’t right. You pulled yourself out and you looked around your room in a blind panic as you fought to get your distressed breathing back under control.
But it was only you in there. How could you hear him? It had to be some trick your mind was playing on you. Payback for all you’d done.
You exhaled heavily and braced your hands behind your neck as you looked to the ceiling. You stood and paced the confined space, shaking your hands as if you could shake away the bad feeling sitting on your chest.
You sat back on the bed and rolled your shoulders as you found your focus again. Faint rays of sun now came through the cracks in your window along with the sound of rain pattering against the fractured glass, but the new time meant nothing to you.
You didn’t care how long it would take; you were going to find them.
--
Hunter and Wrecker walked out of the ship and departed the bay to enter the streets of Christophsis- the rain sliding down their armour as they moved between the crowds.
“Well, we’re in the right place.” Wrecker commented as he nudged Hunter in the direction of the first holoscreen that had your image appear and a quick look at the immediate buildings followed that theme since they all had multiple paper posters in their windows and on their doors.
Hunter swallowed tightly as he saw holographic picture of you. There’d been one too many ‘right places’ in his search for you. He wasn’t going to accept that philosophy until he had something more than a wanted sign for you. “Come on. We’ll start with Kendrin’s brother.”
--
“So, you’re saying you saw a figure head in that direction after the disturbance last night?” A trooper pointed in said direction as she questioned the current resident on her list whilst the rest of her squad proceeded to clear the pawnshop.
“This looks like her handiwork, Sarge.” Wrecker uttered from the corner of the street they were observing from as he studied the scene ahead. Squads of troopers had cornered off the street and where questioning the civilians that appeared to live in the neighbourhood. And being carried out on stretchers were the dead bodies of troopers, but not all had blaster burns on their armour.
Hunter nodded his agreement and felt his heart beat that little bit faster with the flutter of hope. “Come on, we can’t stay here too long.” He directed as he and Wrecker turned away from the pawnshop.
As Hunter began to track your movements based on what he’d heard the trooper say, this finally being the right location was starting to feel a lot more plausible now.
--
There it was! You saw that faint glimmer of light in all the dark. It had to be them! You could feel it!
You jumped from your bed and grabbed your top and armour, hastily putting them on as you opened your door and bolted for the exit.
--
The weather had taken a turn for the worst, but you barely registered the pouring rain as you left the building. Your clothes were already soaked but it didn’t matter, you were too focused on holding onto that feeling of them.
“You’re the Jedi everyone is searching for.”
You whipped out your blaster and turned in the direction of the voice.
“No, wait! I don’t mean you any harm!” She came out from behind the skip with her hands in the air. “My name is-”
“Don’t tell me.” You interrupted sharply as you studied the Twilek before you. “How’d you find me?” You asked coldly. You didn’t lower your blaster either.
“It wasn’t easy. I’ve been following you since I knew of your arrival here. I thought I’d lost you when you disappeared for those three weeks.”
The fact you hadn’t sensed her presence at all told you that you were not what you used to be. You never used to be so sloppy. “I can’t have you knowing where I am.” You rested your hand over the trigger.
“Wait!” She reached a hand out to you. “I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t. I just need your help!”
“My help?” You repeated. “I can’t help you and I’ve got somewhere to be so-”
“Please.” She begged. “My sister, she’s sick and we barely have enough credits to feed ourselves, let alone get medicine.”
“Not my problem, I’m sorry.” Satisfied though that she wasn’t a true threat, you put your blaster away and got ready to leave.
“It wasn’t my sister’s problem that she got caught in a blaster fight and her wound got infected! No one asks for that!”
That made you pause. You’d had your fair share of shootouts in this place but you’d also you’re your best to minimise the damage to outsiders. “Where was the fight?” You found yourself asking quietly.
“About a month ago by the old shipyard on the outskirts of the city. We’d been told we could find some cheap transport off world, but something went down with the Imperials stationed there and my sister… I didn’t tug her down fast enough. I didn’t know what to do and then I heard of the Jedi that had landed in Christophsis and I knew I had to find you.”
A month ago… but that was where and when you’d gone to sell the ship… where’d you’d first been ambushed by the Imperials… no, there wasn’t meant to be anyone else there. Maybe you could… no, you didn’t have the time. Your aim was always good, it wouldn’t have been your shot that hit her. “I can’t.” You said dismissively, but there was a fading sense of conviction in your voice. Some part of you wanted to do the right thing by her. But it wasn’t enough to stop you pushing past her.
“I thought Jedi helped people!”
You stopped in your tracks and made a noise of resigned frustration as you turned around to face the young Twilek. “Wait here.”
You hastily ran back into your building, silently entered, and grabbed a few spare medical supplies from your kit before you ran back out to meet her again. “Alright, show me.”
--
Your place looked like a luxurious penthouse compared to where this young twilek and her sister were staying. It was virtually a single room with cracks in the walls and ceiling and there was a distinct damp aroma in the air. It was no wonder that they wanted to leave this place.
You then saw the smaller and younger twilek lying on a small mattress in the middle of the floor. There were drops of sweat dotted across her brow and she was shivering uncontrollably.
You’d never wanted anyone innocent to be affected by what you were doing yet it had happened with Lyra and now this child. “I’m sorry.” You whispered to her as you kneeled down beside her. You saw the bloodstain on her clothing and delicately lifted the end of her shirt to see the wound on her hip being covered by nothing more than a ripped piece of a shirt.
“Can you help her?”
You half- turned to face the sister who was looking on fretfully. “I can clean the wound and reclose it. After that, it’ll be down to her. But the fact that she’d held on for so long is a good sign. She’s strong, she should be okay.”
The sister sighed in relief.
You brought out the supplies and recleaned and applied to bacta before you re-dressed the wound. “Do you have water?” You asked.
The sister nodded and dashed over to grab a cannister. She passed it to you.
“Lift her head.” You instructed gently.
She murmured words of comfort to her sister as she propped up her head.
As tenderly but as effectively as you could, you pushed the pill past her lips and got her to swallow it down with some water.
When her breathing had grown more controlled and her shivering had subsided, you go to your feet. “I’m leaving you some bacta and wound dressings along with some pills that’ll help with the fever. That’s all I can do now.”
“Thank you.” She clasped your hand tightly. “I won’t forget this.”
“It’s better that you do.” You said grimly. “And once she’s better, if you still need a way out of here, use the actual transports off this planet.” You chucked a bag of credits on the ground before you walked out of the room.
You rounded the corner but swiftly pressed your back against the wall since there was a group of stormtroopers directly in your path. You would have no chance of finding them with those soldiers in your way. You needed to find a way around them and what better way to do that than going from roof to roof. You summoned the Force and jumped to the top of the building and got moving.
You would get a better view from above anyway.
--
When another small squad of troopers made their presence known ahead, Hunter signalled him and Wrecker to an alleyway out of the line of their sight. He knew they were close to you, but the Imperial presence was making it hard to track you effectively.
“We can’t keep hiding like this, Hunter.” Wrecker grunted in frustration.
“I know, Wrecker.” Hunter agreed, equally as irritated. “If I could just-” He stopped suddenly.
“Hunter?”
“Someone’s here.” Hunter muttered quietly as his hand fell over his blaster.
“You’re getting sloppy, Sergeant. I’ve been following you the past 3 blocks.”
The voice that he’d been longing to hear and that was so familiar, he’d recognise it anywhere. His breath hitched with the realisation at what this finally meant. Hunter took off his helmet and turned around to the distant sound of feet hitting a puddle in the ground. And it was you. Standing there before him. It was finally you.
“Hello, Hunter.” You said softly, so softly you could barely hear the words themselves due to the sound of your own heart thundering in your ears. If it wasn’t for the flash of recognition in his eyes or the way Wrecker’s jaw dropped as he propped his helmet atop his head, you wouldn’t have been certain that you’d said anything at all. You tugged down your coverings and let yourself be unprotected to the rain.
He felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. Hunter dropped his helmet and something akin to a choked gasp fell from his mouth as he could at long last lay his eyes on you. He started to slowly walk towards you but that soon became a run, water kicking up against him, but he didn’t care.
Your feet slapped against the wet ground as you met him halfway and crashed into his arms with a thankful sigh and buried your face in his neck. Even as you held him tightly to you, part of you still couldn’t believe that it was him. You felt something swell in your heart, a feeling you couldn’t place but knew you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Did you deserve this? Did you deserve to have him back after all you’d done? Pushing the thought away, you readjusted your embrace as if you could somehow hold him even closer.
He twisted his hands in your clothing and breathed you in. He’d imagined this moment for so long. When things seemed too dark and hopeless, he’d clung on to this. To think about how it would feel to finally see you again. To hold you again. And imagination couldn’t compare to the utter joy in his heart that reality brought him. He almost didn’t want to let you go for fear that you could be taken away again but practicality took precedence, the two of you couldn’t stay this way forever, as much as he might want to.
Tears mixed with rain streamed down both your cheeks as you parted from one another.
You cupped his face in your hands. “You’re here? You’re actually here?” You murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. You’d driven yourself crazy with picturing this moment, you needed to make sure this wasn’t your brain’s idea of a cruel joke.
Hunter removed your hands from his face and kissed your gloved knuckles. “I’m here.” He whispered back, his breathing still shaky as he pressed pressing his forehead into yours.
“You’re here.” You repeated as you looked into his soft brown eyes.
Hunter’s thumb gently caressed the cut on your lip, and he noticed the other wound on your nose. “Did they-”
You pulled his hand away. “Doesn’t matter. This is all I care about right now.”
Before Hunter could push the matter, he felt his brother approach.
“And what about me?”
You glanced past Hunter to the indignant but affectionate voice. “Hi, Wrecker.” You met his open armed invitation and let him swing your around as he hugged you.
“Good to see you, (Y/N)!”
“How’d you find me?” You asked as he placed you back down.
“You didn’t make it easy.” Wrecker griped. “We always seemed to be two steps behind you.”
“I haven’t exactly been hiding though.” You disputed as you pointed to a discarded wanted poster on the ground beside you.
“Between the Imperials and dead end leads and your rather annoying ability to hide in plain sight, it was tough. We got a lucky break with a guy whose brother owned another pawn shop here. Saw the results of a fight and figured we’d finally caught up with you.” Hunter explained as he came to stand in front of you and took his helmet from his brother.
You gulped. You’d be careful to make sure the people you’d gone after had no one they’d be leaving behind. You didn’t realise you’d messed up with that this time. “He- he had a brother?”
Hunter tilted his head at the unusually emotive response. “Apparently but I’m assuming you had a good reason for ending it the way you did.”
You coughed. “Yeah, totally.” You straightened your back and changed the subject. “Where’s Echo?”
“Using his contact to try to get more intel on Hemlock. We still don’t know where he’s holding Omega.” Hunter kicked the ground. “Don’t suppose you have anything?”
“I wish I did but everything I gathered was either old or what we knew already. He’s good at laying low.” You seethed.
“We’ll get him, though. We have too.” Wrecker stated firmly.
“How soon can you leave?” Hunter asked.
“Um, well-” You cut yourself off as your sight drifted past Hunter’s shoulder to the end of the alley at the lone trooper that had a blaster pointed at Hunter’s back.
“Watch out!” You yelled as you pushed Hunter out the way of the incoming blaster bolt. You drew your blaster and fired a shot that landed in the centre of the trooper’s chest, and he dropped to the ground. But you knew, where there was one stormtrooper, there would be at least five more behind them.
“We need to move out.” Hunter urged as he got back to his feet and put his helmet on. “A firefight will draw too much attention.”
“No time.” You stated simply as you pulled your hood and mask back up.
“We’ve got more incoming!” Wrecker confirmed as he lowered his helmet and opened fire on the small squad of troopers that had arrived.
The three of you took cover behind a skip, only firing defensive shots back. You needed to draw the soldiers closer before going on the offensive.
When they had gotten close enough, Hunter threw a smoke bomb, the action allowing the three of you to advance and take out the troopers one shot at a time.
As the firefight continued, however, you began to feel unsteady on your feet and your movements felt unbalanced. Your tingling limbs ensured that your aim was skewed too. All that, combined with the wetness you felt pooling from your stomach meant the trooper had better aim than you credited them for- you’d been hit. You couldn’t afford to think about what this meant, right now, you needed to get outta here.
But you’d been distracted long enough for one downed soldier you’d dismissed as being a threat to come around and jab their blaster against your knee. You grunted with the impact but turned your blaster on him and he lay limp on the ground.
Hunter and Wrecker tidied off the few retreating stragglers. They could deal with this small group but anything more would prove difficult.
With the last trooper taken care of, you braced yourself against the wet wall. The fading adrenaline in your system now being replaced by agony and you ripped your mask down and took deep but laboured breaths.
“Their reinforcements won’t be long. We made a bit of noise.” Wrecker said as he holstered his blaster.
But Hunter wasn’t paying attention to what Wrecker was saying. His gaze was fixed on you and the way you were struggling to hold yourself up against the wall. “(Y/N), what-” He stopped as he saw the crimson drops that mixed with the rainwater drip from the hand pressed to your stomach onto the ground. No, no, no. He thought to himself. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose you when he’d only just found you again.
Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, Hunter catching your shoulder was the only reason you were able to stay sitting up but without the distraction of the fight, the pain was overwhelming. Black spots danced in the corners of your vision, but you couldn’t succumb to them, not now. Not after all this. You tried to lift your head to speak but all that left your mouth was a tortured groan.
As collected as he wanted to be to deal with this, he couldn’t totally keep his panic at bay. His hands trembled as he attempted to get you to look at him. He delicately brushed some loose strands of hair from your face. “Sshh, I’ve got you.” He whispered tenderly, fighting to keep the worry out of his voice. What made it all the worse was that he knew this wound didn’t occur through the fight they’d just seen out, you’d been hurt shoving him out the way of that first shot that drew the rest of the stormtroopers in.
How could he have allowed this to happen? What good were his enhanced senses if he couldn’t protect the people he loved. You shouldn’t have needed to push him out the way of that blaster bolt, he should’ve known the trooper was there and now you were paying the price for his mistake.
“What can we do?” Wrecker asked quickly.
You winced and tried for words again. “Medical centres are a no. Where’s- where’s the ship?”
“Landing bay 6.” Wrecker replied.
You inhaled sharply. Your current state made things all too easy for the Imperials to catch you making your way there. “Too far. We- we gotta get to my place. She- she might kill me but- argh!” You broke off with a cry of pain as you reached a hand up to Hunter. “But it’s safe there and- and she’ll know what to do.”
“Hold on.” Hunter rasped as he took a grip of your forearm and signalled to Wrecker to keep an eye out as he pulled you to your feet.
You pressed your hand into your side with a pained gasp as Hunter put his arm around you and supported most of your weight and the three of you got on the move.
--
“This is it?” Wrecker asked- his scepticism evident despite the pressing matter at hand- as he stared at the condemned building.
“All the regular penthouses were taken.” You kidded before you swayed on your feet as a wave of dizziness struck.
“Woah, easy.” Hunter cautioned as he strengthened his grip.
“Second floor.” You hissed. “And mind the fourth step on the second staircase. Half of it is missing.”
“It can never just be simple.” Hunter grumbled anxiously as Wrecker opened the decrepit door to the building.
“Would it really be a reunion if everything went well?” You joked deliriously.
“Right now, yes I would definitely prefer it.” Hunter fretted as he saw your head dip. You were losing the battle of staying conscious with each passing second. The next time it happened, he wasn’t sure you would be able to lift your head again.
--
Lyra had barely any time to process the familiar people standing in her doorway as she answered the pounding knock. All she could do was stare at you, half collapsed against Hunter’s side, your hand cradling your stomach, and then her eyes caught sight of the trail of blood that had followed your path up. “What-”
“Hey, girl. Remember- remember how I promised I wouldn’t put you through something like this again? Turns out, I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have done that.” You said through gritted teeth before you stumbled as you tried to take a step forward, prompting Hunter to lift you up.
“Please.” The hoarse plea was all Hunter managed to say.
“Lay her here.” Lyra quickly stepped aside to let the three of you in and pointed to the couch.
Hunter hustled inside and delicately placed you on the worn soft. He took off his helmet and kneeled by your head and stroked your hair back from your forehead. “You’re going to be alright. You need to hold on for me, okay? I’m not losing you again.” He whispered against your temple before he left a light kiss on your brow.
“Good news, it’s not as bad as last time.” Lyra said as she examined the wound before getting up to go gather the medical supplies.
“The bar is rather low on that front, Lyra.” You moaned.
“Last time?” Hunter found himself asking as he tore his stare from your bloody injury to Lyra.
Lyra didn’t respond, she was too busy staring at the depleted supply of medical care. She took a deep breath and braced her hands against the countertop. “(Y/N)… what happened to the bacta?”
Seemingly forgetting that you were currently in severe pain and bleeding out, you went to prop yourself up but Hunter’s hand gently pushing against your shoulder stopped you. “Hey.” You protested wearily.
“You can answer the question like that.” Hunter chastised.
“The bacta?” Lyra pressed as she rifled through the other cupboards in case it had somehow been misplaced.
No, not yet. You told yourself as the black dots returned. You blinked them away and took a strained breath before you answered. “I- I may have given it away…”
“You-” Lyra had to take a deep, calming breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You gave it away? What in all the galaxy would possess you to do that?”
“Well, I saw someone in need and decided-” You broke off with another pained wince. “Decided to finally be a good citizen.”
Lyra released an exasperated sigh. “Do I need to remind you of your track record? You need bacta like the rest of us need water.”
“In my defence, I wasn’t planning on needing it anymore. This- this time really wasn’t my fault.”
“I quite frankly don’t give a fuck! You can’t just-”
“Can we do this later?” Hunter interrupted as he saw your face contort in discomfort. “Preferably when she’s able to hold a conversation without convulsing in pain?”
“I can run back to our ship and get some.” Wrecker offered as he lifted his helmet.
“Go.” Hunter said with a nod, but Lyra held out a hand to stop the bigger clone from going.
“She doesn’t have that kinda time. I can cauterise it the old-fashioned way, but it’ll just hurt like hell.” Lyra said with a grimace.
“That’s fine because I don’t think I’m going to be conscious for much longer.” The darkness encroaching on your vision was all too tempting and you were completely exhausted.
“No, you stay awake.” Lyra ordered sternly.
Hunter and Wrecker turned their attention sharply to you.
“Come on, (Y/N). You gotta hang in there.” Wrecker urged as he reached over the back of the couch and placed a large hand on your shoulder.
“Sweetheart, keep your eyes on me.” Hunter begged as he saw them flicker open and shut but it was a battle that he knew you were going to lose.
You wanted to; you really did but you just couldn’t. You shut your eyes and embraced the peace of the darkness.
“Hunter, she’s still breathing right?” Lyra asked as she picked up the last few things she needed.
“Shallowly but yes.” Hunter said with a thankful sigh.
“That’s good enough.” Lyra ran back to the couch and began to start to process of stabilising you.
--
You were in a dim corridor. The only light seemed to at the end of the long passageway. You made to walk towards it, hoping it would show you a way out but as you walked, it seemed to move away from you. You broke into a run but the distance between you and the light only grew. You paused your run as you thought about what this could mean. It was then though that a voice spoke up and a figure appeared next to you.
You won’t get to it.
You faced the figure. It almost sounded and looked like you but there was something off about it. There was a yellow shimmer in the eyes and the face was gaunt and mean-looking, with lips that seemed to be in a permanent sneer. The voice carried a cruel, sinister overtone that made your blood run cold and the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
It’ll keep staying away from you.
But why? You studied whatever it was before you as they circled you. When it walked, it was cast in constant shadow.
You think after all you’ve done; you can have that light back? You think you deserve it?
Before you could form a reply, your attention was drawn to a scene unfolding to your right.
Aww this was your first failure. But it brought me to the surface, so I remain pretty grateful.
Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the moment. You saw your master completely surrounded by battle droids, taking hit after hit. And you saw yourself as a Jedi Knight sprinting to reach him. You went to turn away, but a strong hand grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you to keep looking.
There’s you. Being too late to save him. Do you remember the last words you said to him?
You did and they were words you had regretted ever since.
‘Stubborn, foolish, out of touch, old timer whose only purpose was to be a pawn for the orders of the Jedi Council’ I believe they were.
Stop it.
He died knowing you failed him.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the final shot that sent your master crumbling to the ground.
You got a taste for it then.
Despite the fact you wanted to refuse, you found yourself opening your eyes to seeing yourself utterly decimate the remaining droids by your master’s dead body. You saw the merciless gleam in your eyes and the callous smile that graced your face as you destroyed them. You had enjoyed that. The scene finished with you repeatedly bringing your lightsaber down on the final droid, the blue blade moving in unrestrained fury. Why did you show me that? You asked bleakly.
But the darkness didn’t give you a proper answer. It only pushed an icy finger on your lips. Pay attention, we’re not done yet. It took you a while to accept that this was always in you. You worked on shutting me out. You managed for a while… but then she left.
You wanted nothing more than to leave this place and this darkness before you, but all control had been taken from your body. Your feet began moving of their own accord and you were directed to another moment on your left this time. You were stopped and the hand took a harsh grip of your neck again. You were forced to watch Ahsoka walk out the Council Chamber doors, with Anakin following her and then you viewed yourself in horror as you saw the rage written across your face and heard the venom in your words as you yelled at the Council. Had you really been that uncontrolled? That angry?
Even though you finally left those uptight pricks, you still insisted on keeping me hidden though. Rather irritating I must say. I wondered what it would take for you to accept me. And then he came into your life.
You were pushed along the hall again to the next part which was replaying your first interaction with Hunter and your chest felt tight. Leave him out of this.
Oh, but he’s the best part. Your figure taunted nastily.
The scene switched and were now being greeted with flashes of your intimate moments with Hunter. Enough.
The only reply came in the form was an unkind laugh.
Giving into that lust felt good, didn’t it? The possessiveness, the selfishness that came with having someone just for you was too enticing to pass up.
No, that wasn’t what it was at all. Stop.
You liked the feeling of knowing you could use that attachment to excuse any darker actions. You would be doing it for him, so it made it okay. It wasn’t love for him you were feeling, it was a love for the freedom to channel me that you craved. He was merely a convenient vessel.
No, you’re wrong! You insisted but your voice lacked conviction, everything was getting so twisted that you were now doubting the feelings you thought you never would.
The darkness just gave you a pitying look. Just keep watching and you’ll see I’m right.
So, you did. You were shoved further up the corridor to see you and the Batch together. Memories that you once would’ve looked back on in fondness were now tainted by pain and disappointment that you’d dragged them into your mess. The darkness took no notice of your distress, it just continued talking.
Much to my delight, you grew to care for all of that group. I knew that attachment would lead to something marvellous for us and then it finally happened.
You moved along to the next scene and your breathing grew uneven as the image of Eriadu appeared. You couldn’t bear seeing this again but once more, you were left with no choice but to hear Tech say that dreaded plan and watch him fall to his death.
Of course, he was another one you were too slow to save but-
You wouldn’t hear this. No, we didn’t have the time. There was nothing I could’ve done. What happened was-
Oh, I know you tried telling yourself that, but my very existence tells me that you know if you’d allowed me in earlier, the situation itself wouldn’t have happened. You’d have killed Gerrera before he even had a chance to set those explosives off.
No, you’re wrong. You said through a shaken whisper, but you didn’t believe the words you were saying anymore.
Although I must say, I’m glad you didn’t quite give in then since I am rather pleased with how it all turned out. His death was the catalyst to a glorious chain of events. So much loss and broken trust. Finally, you had the reason to welcome me without restraint or regret.
You felt your anger rise as the voice kept talking whilst the scene changed from his death to Cid’s betrayal and Omega being captured and you being separated from Hunter. Nothing about that had been a blessing. It couldn’t have been. Shut up. You snarled. But the figure only smugly beamed.
There it is. There’s that power. You can deny it all you want but that was the best thing that happened to you. You let me in and from that point on, nothing stopped you getting what you wanted. And it felt divine. You know it did. Look at how formidable you are with me being a part of things.
You were dragged along the hall and all that appeared around you were the people in the galaxy you’d threatened, brutalised, and murdered. You had no other option but to watch and hear their tortured pleas and screams. You didn’t need the darkness to talk you through these this time, you recalled very clearly that during all of this, you’d felt not one bit of remorse. You’d thought they deserved it. You’d fallen so far, and a way back now seemed impossible.
The darkness commented on a particular time where you were torturing a woman who’d been very difficult to track and get information from. Even when you did find her, she’d been loyal to the Empire, insisting you should’ve died with the rest of the Jedi traitors. You’d responded by cracking the individual bones in her fingers and hands before moving up to the bones in her arm. You’d broken her right clavicle before she’d finally told you what you needed to know. I particularly liked this moment. Do you remember how she couldn’t stand afterwards? All she could do was writhe on the floor in agony. Quite a humorous sight.
You remembered them all and it made you feel sick to your stomach now as you watched the endless stream of tormented and pained faces of people you had tortured and killed in your quest for information.
The last scene disappeared and despite the fact you had been walking along the corridor that whole time, the light had still remained far out of reach.
See? No matter how far you go, you’ll never reach that light. Why bother searching for it anymore? You know you’re better off alone. All you need is this power and you’ll be unstoppable. But since I know some part of you still cares for your clones, don’t trouble them with this. It’s not something that can be shared or fixed.
The figure faded and you collapsed to your knees in defeat. You had succumbed to that darkness and hurt and killed too many people. You’d crossed that line, and you weren’t sure there was a way back for you and you wouldn’t take Hunter down with you. Or Wrecker and Echo. They deserved a chance to rescue Omega and set things right, and if being with Hunter meant that chance would be at risk, you wouldn’t take that from them. Even if it would kill you, it would be the last thing you did to protect your family. ‘No attachments. There is no emotion, there is peace.’ You had to finally listen to that part of the Jedi Code that you had fought against for years and… and you would let them go.
--
Once it seemed things were more under control, Wrecker broke the quiet. “I’m going to go keep watch.” He said before walking out.
There were a few minutes of silence, the only noise being the quiet hiss of Lyra sealing shut your injury now that she’d cleaned it.
“Didn’t know you had this skill set.” Hunter said into the quiet as he watched Lyra.
“I tell myself it’s not so different from stitching and making clothes. Plus, she kinda made it that I had to learn quick. There were just some things she couldn’t handle on her own.”
There was a dip in conversation again.
“I was sorry to hear about your kid... and Tech.” Lyra said quietly as she worked on you. She placed a bandage over your now closed injury and started to put away the medical supplies.
The mention of his brother’s name had him stiffening his posture. “Yeah, well, we’re going to find her.”
Lyra nodded understandingly before she indicated to you. “She’s been non-stop since Ord Mantell. She wouldn’t rest until she found you. Didn’t matter how dangerous things got, she wouldn’t stop.”
Hunter continued to stroke your brow. “She’s not the only one.”
“I almost wished she would. I thought the search was going to kill her. Especially after what happened last time.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned this now. And from the dynamic between the two of you since arriving here, he figured there was key subtext he was missing. He glanced over to Lyra. “What are you talking about?”
Lyra took a short breath. “It was a few weeks ago. She-” Lyra stopped as she heard you let out a soft groan.
“Hey you.” Hunter said softly as you slowly opened your eyes. “How are you feeling?”
You didn’t answer him. Whatever soreness you were experiencing wouldn’t come close to the misery your next course of action would cause you. “Thank you. Again.” You said to Lyra instead.
Lyra nodded. “I’ll go keep Wrecker company.” She said before grabbing her sniper rifle and making her exit.
Hunter brought his focus back to you and provided a supportive hand on your back as you sat up. “Take as long as you need. I figured once you’re feeling more up to it, you can say your goodbyes and leave with us. After-”
“You have to go.”
“Yes, I know…” Hunter said, tilting his head at you. “But you need a bit of time and-”
“No, you need to leave without me.”
Without you? No, you couldn’t mean that. “What’s-” He stopped for a moment to try and recover from the confusion your statement caused him. “What’s changed between that alleyway and now?”
You knew he wasn’t going to make this easy but every minute you had to do this was tearing you apart. “Everything has. The Empire knows what I am. It’ll add unnecessary heat.”
“We’ll cope.”
You swallowed harshly and grimaced as you readjusted your sitting position. “It’s not just that. Things changed when we got separated. I changed.”
“That doesn’t scare me.”
“It should. All I’ve done…” You trailed off and gulped. “I’m not who I used to be.”
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of too. But we can-”
“Hunter, I don’t belong with you anymore.”
Hunter couldn’t accept that. “You’re one of us. You always have been. Since the first moment you stepped in front of those droids on Devaron, you were one of us. I don’t understand why-”
“There’s someone else.” You blurted out and fuck you hated yourself for it. You knew by the way he recoiled from you and from deep hurt and betrayal that flashed across his face, you would’ve been better off hitting him. You knew you had to hurt him. Even if he left hating you, you could find a way to let him go. But you hated that you had to do it.
“There’s someone else.” Hunter repeated quietly, his throat bobbing as he kept his voice tight.
You had to push it. It was the only way, but it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you said the next words. You forced yourself to keep your voice cold and level. “I’ve moved on. I only needed to know that you were alive. And now I do. You can go now. Just leave and don’t think about me again. It’ll save us all a lot of bother.” You couldn’t face the wounded look in his eyes and you turned your own away from him and had to blink away the tears that threatened to fall.
Hunter clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. “Look me in the eye and tell me that again.” He implored.
He knew you too well. You wouldn’t do it. If you did, he would know you were lying. So, you opted for something worse- you would manipulate his heart. “If any part of you still cares about me, you will go. That’s all I want now. I need you to leave. You’ll only be hurting me more if you stay.” You said firmly as you faced him again.
You sounded so sure, and even if he thought he could see something in your eyes that took the conviction out of your words, he’d never want to cause you pain, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Better him be the one to take the hurt, no matter how unnatural it felt, no matter how much every fibre of his being yearned to stay by your side and work this out. So, Hunter got to his feet and walked over to the door. “Every part of me still cares about you.” He murmured back to you before the door opened and he walked out. He was walking out on you- something he thought he’d never do- and it left him feeling like he had a gaping hole in his chest.
--
As you heard the door shut, a broken sob left your lips and you let the tears fall.
--
“Where is she?” Lyra asked as Hunter came out from the door behind them.
“Keep her alive.” Hunter said numbly to Lyra before he walked away.
“Hunter-” Lyra started to say but the clone wasn’t stopping.
“Eh, well, I guess it was nice to see you.” Wrecker said hurriedly before he darted after his brother.
“Bye.” Lyra said with confusion as she watched the two clones go. She turned to go back inside and hopefully knock some sense into you.
--
You’d managed to drag yourself into the sanctity of your room, but the isolation wasn’t helping things. The regret you were feeling was overwhelming but what was done was done. You needed to stand by your choice, it was what was best for them, you just needed to learn how to cope. You needed something, anything, to distract your brain from the self-doubt running rampant in your head so, staying mindful of your wound, you tentatively sat back on your bed and closed your eyes, drowned out the pouring rain smacking against the glass, and found your centre again.
Not to your surprise, you were only surrounded by darkness. You’d let the last light in your life go, there was nothing left for you now.
Spark.
Not that voice. Not again, you couldn’t handle that. “No, I’m not doing this.”
Yes, you are. You need to listen to me, Spark.
You sighed and saw the figure of your old master appear in the vast space before you. “So, either I somehow took a turn and I’m dead or I’m hallucinating.”
Your master simply chuckled. Must it always be extremes with you?
“You taught me what I know, you tell me.”
Well, based off your past choices, I would say you’ve forgotten much of what I taught you.
“This is why you’re in my head? To lecture me about my choices? Yes, I broke the code, big whoop. I never liked it anyway. And now I’ve given into the dark side, sorry to have disappointed you.” You grumbled as you looked down at your feet.
He sighed. It hurt him to see you look so defeated, this wasn’t the young Jedi he’d raised. Evidently, you were going to need more help than he expected. This isn’t some meditative trick. I’ve always been with you, Spark, and now I’m with you because you need help. You’ve strayed from your path, and you need guidance.
“You’re a few months too late, Master.” The title came back into your vocabulary so naturally, you’d nearly missed the fact that you’d reverted back to your student/teacher dynamic so quickly.
That defeat you’re feeling is exactly why I’m here now. This dark side you seem to think is your destiny is not decided, but if you continue to stand by the decision that you just made, it will be. There’s a chance for you, Spark, don’t throw it away.
You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him. “If you’ve truly been around for all of this, you’ll know what I’ve done. You’ve seen what I’ve become. I wasn’t as strong I thought I was.”
You haven’t fallen yet. He reiterated. What you’ve gone through would wreck most people, the fact that you’ve only strayed from the light now is a credit to you. But this choice you’ve made to let them go is what will seal your fate.
“What are you talking about? I was on this path long before what happened on Ord Mantell. I saw it!” You said, your voice rising in frustration and distress. Why was everyone around you so insistent that you could heal from this? You’d shown your true colours years ago, you were only doing what you were obviously meant for.
He raised his hands to calm you. Spark, listen to me. You’re not-
“I had to let him go! I had to let them all go! You should be glad, Master! I’m finally following the teaching you worked so hard on getting through to me!” Your breathing grew more uneven and the word that left your mouth were filled with self-loathing, but you couldn’t stop them. “I’m damaged goods, I have been from the beginning, and I couldn’t bring him down with me! I couldn’t bring any of them down with me!” You felt tears slide down your cheeks as the emotion you had been trying to hard to push down came crashing to the surface.
And is letting attachments go part of the Jedi or Sith philosophy? He asked gently.
His genteel manner caught you off guard. You huffed out a quick breath. “Why does that matter?”
Answer the question, please.
You released an agitated sigh. “Jedi, I guess but-”
And let me ask you this, you said you saw what you’ve done? How?
You regained some composure. “I don’t know how to describe what it was I saw, but whatever it was took me down a lovely stroll through memory lane and I saw what I was. There’s no denying it now.”
It was starting to make sense to him now and with this new understanding, he finally knew the best way to help you. Yes, the dark side can be very manipulative that way. Especially when it knows there’s been pain plenty of pain and sorrow. It preys upon that and I’m just sorry it got to you before I could.
“What are you talking about?”
What you saw, it wasn’t the whole truth.
Not the whole truth? “What do you mean?”
He looked at you with intrigue. What do you think I mean?
You inhaled deeply to find some patience. “Master, please. I’m not your padawan anymore.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. You’ll always be my padawan, Spark. But I understand this may not be the best time for one of my lessons.
Despite everything, the nostalgia his teaching persona brought you had you humming out a quiet laugh. “I guess working together on whatever cryptic lesson you’re going to impart on me will be fine, for old times sake if nothing else. Just don’t leave it all to me. I’m not clear-headed enough to do all the thinking.”
He nodded and smiled knowingly at you. It will be less cryptic that the lessons I used to give you. Let us begin.
You knew that gleam in his eye and you forgot that no matter how agitated or frustrated you’d been growing up as his pupil, he’d always found a way to put you at ease and you’d been more open to learning again. Even dead, he still seemed to possess that ability. And it was because of that, you found yourself getting ready to welcome whatever wisdom he felt could get you out of this hell you’d put yourself in.
Now, I understand that you are feeling a lot of guilt and self-loathing, correct?
Feeling it? You felt like you were drowning in it.
And you have convinced yourself that your clones, particularly… Hunter, isn’t it? He waited for your nod before continuing, are better off without you because you’ve done too much. Stepped over that line one too many times? A lost cause, yes?
“I guess you could say that.” You mumbled.
He hummed in thought before he spoke again. You mentioned something about you were this way from the beginning. Can you tell me to which beginning you are referring to?
You inhaled shakily. “I- I saw you die again. I watched myself destroy the rest of those droids in undisciplined rage and- and I was reminded of what I’d said to you.”
Ah yes, that was quite the day. Rather humiliating on my part, I must say. I should’ve just listened to you from the start. My we exchanged some choice words. He ruminated with a small chuckle.
You remembered him having a rather dry sense of humour, but this just seemed absurd. You’re laughing about this?! I was awful to you! I saw you die and all I could do was wreak havoc on a group of droids and I enjoyed it! I held your dead body in my arms and the last thing I had done was insult you and forget everything you’d taught me for some fucking battle droids!”
He held up his hands to appease you. You’re right, I shouldn’t have laughed but that wasn’t quite how it went.
You furrowed your brow. “What? I saw it! I remember it pretty clearly, even without the reminder. I’m haunted by it and you’re telling me that wasn’t what happened?!”
He shook his head. Not quite. Remember, the dark side has a remarkable ability to alter events to fit its needs. It only picks out the moments necessary to draw out those darker emotions. What you saw was true, from a certain point of view, but it didn’t show you everything.
“Then what am I missing?” You asked, desperation in your voice because if there was anything that could help ease the ache from that day, you needed it.
I wasn’t dead when I hit the ground. Fret not, no amount of medical attention would’ve saved me. He interjected hastily as he saw the panic that graced your face. Although the sadder truth is I did in fact die in your arms but… He angled his head to catch your eye again as you had shied away from him upon hearing that. He started again, but your last words to me were not fuelled by irritation or cruelty, you apologised for what you said as well as how you handled those droids. You told me that I was the best teacher you’d ever had, and you promised you would continue to work on what I taught you and to make me proud. That was the last thing you said to me before I passed on. And I can honestly say, Spark, that you kept your promise, despite how it might seem currently.
You went to speak but found that you didn’t have the words. All these years spent being tormented by a memory that in fact had another side to it, could that be right? Seeing it again had made it seem all the more true but there was nothing but sincerity in his face and voice as he told you this. He wasn’t looking to feed you a false narrative, there was no vindictiveness in his tone.
You don’t have to believe me immediately, I know things have been tough but we’re going to go through this and I’m going to help you see the truth, okay? He said tenderly.
You could only nod.
Okay. He straightened up. I’m going to make an educated guess and say that if that incident was the starting point, the next situation would’ve been that unfortunate time with Ahsoka and the Jedi Council and also the day you decided to leave?
You gulped and found your voice again. “Um, yeah.”
And I expect you were shown yourself in an untamed rage with little concern over the words you used?
You gave a stiff nod of your head.
Uh huh, well, once again, you were shown a manipulated memory created from shame. You were unhappy, and I can’t say I blame you, they really fucked that up if you pardon the phrase.
You couldn’t help but snort at his gentlemanly manner and you were reminded of the many telling offs for language you’d received growing up.
And while you were disappointed in them and frustrated, you never lost control of yourself. Your voice was raised but level. You were clear in your points, and you never said anything untoward save for some unsavoury language sprinkled in. He watched you impart the familiar eye roll as he said that last statement, but he took that as a positive sign. Your attachment to Ahsoka didn’t cloud your judgment, your decision to leave was made with a steady heart and a focused head. And I watched you do it and I knew it was the best decision for you. It did set things in motion, but they were good things for you, Spark, and it’s important that you realise that again. He looked at you earnestly.
You held his gaze, and, in his eyes, you saw the master that had been with you through thick and thin. The master that had put up with your questions and doubts about the Jedi Order that the Jedi Council could hardly tolerate. You saw the master that had mentored you and fought by your side for years. He was one of the people that had known you best. He wouldn’t lie to you, and you felt your heart opening up to what he was saying to you.
Shall we continue? He asked after giving you a minute to process.
You shook your shoulders and exhaled heavily before you looked at him and give him a single, firm nod.
--
He had taken you through various events bit by bit. Pointing out that elements that demonstrated you were still being pulled towards the light. Things like you would’ve either left or killed Lyra the second she’d gotten you out of Ord Mantell and her use was over. Things like you wouldn’t have offered so many opportunities for people to talk to you before you injured or killed them, you would have hurt them first and asked questions later- killing and pain had never been your first port of call. And any firefight that ensued, when possible, you made sure you remained the primary target and civilians would be out of harms way.
Concern for others and worry about the consequences of your actions… Sith and dark side users tend not to feel or allow for these things. He surmised.
Even if what he was revealing to you was the whole picture, there was still the pressing matter of how you’d been in the recent months. “But Eriadu and everything that followed after… I let something in, what was it if not the dark side?”
He gave you a sympathetic smile. You had never experienced loss and betrayal in such quick succession before. What you let in was the anger and anguish you were feeling which you weren’t trained to handle properly. The more you went on, the more those emotions twisted your brain which allowed the darkness to creep in and make it more effortless to act on said emotions. It was easier for you to get what you needed with your emotions being what they were, and you didn’t have to think about who was getting hurt. You got a rather bad case of tunnel vision- you were doing bad things for good reasons, but they were not senseless acts of violence.
“But I have done so many bad things.” You said with self-directed disgust.
Yes, but what you can do now is work towards finding that line again. To finding that control you had in the past. You’ve been on that path since this morning, the self-awareness of what you’ve been doing wasn’t present in the months before today. However, you cannot get back to that place alone anymore, you’ve changed since you left the Order and most of it was for the better, but more attachment means more support. You will not be able to find that balance if you let your family go. He said with a sense of urgency. He needed you to grasp what he was telling you, no matter how unnatural it might feel.
Your pulse quickened. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was? “What are you saying, Master?”
Do you know where your nickname originated?
Confused as you why this was suddenly relevant, you angled your head at him. “I always figured it was because word spread that I made my lightsaber slightly wrong the first time and nearly set it on fire when I first ignited it.”
He chortled. That acted more as a visual aid and a helpful addition to the true origin.
“Then where did it come from?”
He took a deep breath. In the weeks leading up to the time for us to choose a youngling to take under our wing, you caught my eye from the start. It wasn’t just your natural ability with a lightsaber or your quick grasp of the Force, it was how you interacted with the people around you. During the trials, you had a heightened care for how the others were performing and you aided them whenever you could without a second thought. It made you more focused, more effective. You were unique from your peers in that sense and in a way that I’d never seen before, and I knew I had to get to know you more to understand what it was I was picking up on.
“Yeah, I remember. I’d never expected someone to choose me so eagerly, especially since my disciplinary record was far from perfect, even at that age.” Youreminisced with a sigh.
Yes, my fellow Jedi were surprised at my decision, but there was just something within you I had to see for myself. As we got to understand each other and I could officially begin your training, I watched you continue to demonstrate this quality and I could feel it residing in the Force within you. You had this spark, this fire that drove you which would worry even the most disciplined Jedi Masters but with you, it was as much a part of you as the Force was with the rest of us. You were completely at peace with it, and it was something you probably didn’t realise was so rare. You could feel attachment without rejecting the light side of the Force to do so.
So, the name made a bit more sense after all these years, but you still couldn’t see why this was being brought up. “Okay…”
He could tell you were still hesitant to all this. Do you know which General had the most victories with the fewest casualty numbers? Quite a feat to have during war time I might add.
You huffed a heavy breath from your lips. “I have no idea. The war was such a mess and there were so many of us that it was hard to keep up with the results of each battle.”
Fair point. He conceded, but that doesn’t change the answer which is that it was you.
You were taken aback for a moment before you thought back to that period and part of it did make sense. Many of your strategies had seen you take on the most dangerous elements for the sake of the clones in your battalion despite protests from them, your master and pretty much everyone that was involved, but all that mattered to you was that they worked, and you did what you could to protect everyone else.
He knew you enough to recognise that face and he figured whatever it was you were thinking about would relate to his next question. And which General had the most visits to the medical wing? Another impressive award. He added with a hint of disapproval, his mask of control slipping slightly as he frowned at the memories of the countless notifications he’d receive of your admittance to the healing wards of the Jedi Temple.
You cringed as you remembered the fact you had been on a first name basis with all the medical personnel. “I did.”
He nodded. Attachments didn’t bring you down, they lifted you up. Their most negative consequence in that period seemed to be the recklessness they gave you- and my hair greying faster than I would’ve liked. He couldn’t help but say before he continued, but they didn’t unbalance you like they did most of us. And it is on that point my dear Spark, that I failed you.
“Failed me?” In what galaxy could he have possibly failed you when you were the one that had forgone all you stood for and was one slip away from total self-destruction.
When it became clear to me that this was indeed one of your best qualities and strengths, I was thrilled! It presented a challenge for me as you Master that I was looking forward to exploring! Your emotional attachment to people and causes was one I wanted to teach you to manage, not forbid. Your love and care didn’t make you more susceptible to the dark side and its dangers, it drew you closer to the light. That fire that burns within you isn’t a threat, it’s your way to become something greater. But the Council… He trailed off with a regretful sigh. They rejected my proposal that I mentor you in this way. So instead, as you got older, I worked on forcing you to dampen that flame within you but- He stopped for a moment and chuckled wryly. As you may remember, that was when the root of our conflicts started. Foolishly and rather selfishly-and this is an example of how even those of us that followed the Jedi Code to the letter slip from time to time- you passing your trials into Knighthood gave me profound relief. Not only did it mean I could see you become the Jedi you were always meant to be, but it meant my duty as your teacher was over and I could stop doing something I was against. But I shied away too much and stopped teaching you altogether, had I just been less of a ‘pawn of the Council’ as you quite rightly put it, what you’re experiencing now could have been avoided.
You took a moment to let his words sink in, but you wouldn’t let him blame himself for how you’d behaved in recent times. “I still made the choices to hurt those people, Master. You’re not responsible for my actions.”
Perhaps not, but I could’ve done more to make sure you were better equipped to deal with the loss attachment could bring rather than just tell you to stop feeling it altogether. Not that you listened to that anyway. He added with a slight grin.
You allowed yourself half a smile at that before his face turned sombre again.
But I should’ve stood up for you and for that I’m sorry.
You bowed your head in acceptance of his apology. “But what does all of what we’ve talked about have to do with where I am now?”
Everything I’ve shown you, everything you’ve felt in these recent months illustrates someone who had to cope with a tremendous amount of grief when they had been told their whole life to not feel or get attached. Even with your strength and abilities, Spark, that was a big ask, your actions, and the internal conflict you’re going through is an understandable outcome. But even in dealing with that struggle, you were never purely evil or sought to abandon your Jedi teachings. The only time I grew truly worried before now was whatever you did a few weeks ago. Even I couldn’t see you; it was like the very light around you was getting snuffed out. Care to tell me what you did?
You shook your head adamantly.
Very well. As I was saying, all you’ve learned, all you’ve done and means you can heal from this. You are not a lost cause, not a source of darkness and despair. You are good at heart, Spark!
But Master, I-
No, don’t talk yourself out of this. Really think about what I’m telling you. You never abandoned Lyra, you did your best to ensure no civilian would be caught up in your fights, you offered chances to those people before you hurt them. And you were able to sense Hunter and Wrecker arrive. That source of light wouldn’t have shown itself if you were too far down that dark path.
Maybe so but-
He wouldn’t let you second guess yourself anymore. And when you realised that they were indeed on this planet… what did you do first?
You pondered for a moment before you remembered. I helped those sisters.
And when you found one another, you felt alive and hopeful again but because you’d been lost and confused for so long, it got manipulated into that guilt and regret and hurt you are experiencing right now that has left you exposed to this darkness. But before that, you were ready to free yourself of it, whether you truly realised it or not.
“Right…” You said distantly as you were slowly starting to understand what revelation he was guiding you towards.
I can see you working it out, you’re almost there. He encouraged.
Each lesson and aspect of this entire conversation began to click into place. “So, you’re saying that Hunter’s my light? He’s my way out of this?” You uttered quietly.
Isn’t he? He challenged with a supportive smile. And I believe he too made that fact very clear before you sent him away.
“I thought that was what I was supposed to do.” You said in dismay as your mind finally began to listen to what your Master had been telling you and you gained some proper clarity. What had you done?
He looked at you fondly. You were always a bad student when it came to applying and learning the history of our Code, it would fit that the first time you apply the philosophy to your life would be the poorer choice. They never unbalanced you, Spark. At the very least, they’re your way of staying true to the light side and your dark side knew that, hence it’s enthusiastic efforts to turn you.
You hid you head in your hands in embarrassment. You wouldn’t know a right decision if it smacked you in the face.
Oh, and with regards to Cid and Hemlock, I leave that side of things entirely up to you, with your family by your side, I know punishing them however you like won’t ruin you.
“Thanks, Master.” You replied, a smile in your voice.
Not every Jedi gets the chance at a family, Spark, don’t throw it away now.
You glanced up in time to see him fade away but what was around you wasn’t pure darkness anymore; rays of light had broken into the gloomy space, with more fighting to get through.
--
You opened your eyes sharply and wiped away the damp residue of the tears that had escaped your eyes from your cheeks. He was right, they were the light in your life, and you’d been so stupid to let them go.
Ignoring the lingering pain of your injury, you hastily got to your feet, grabbed a couple bags of credits, and left your room only to be greeted by the disappointed and unhappy face of Lyra. “Hey, I was just-”
“You need to go after them. I’m sorry but I’m drawing the line here. I have not watched you put yourself through hell and risk your life month after month to find your family again only for you to throw it away for some stupid, fucked up, self-sabotaging reason! If you let them go, it will destroy you and as someone else who cares about you, I cannot allow you to do that! They’re your family, you need them, and they need you. And your kid needs you, you can’t just stop! And Hunter… that man is so in love with you it’s sickening, and you are as equally disgustingly in love with him! Whatever is holding you back, the two of you can get through together!”
“Lyra-” But she held up a finger to stop you.
“And you don’t need to worry about me, I will be fine. I’ll get a job and might even find a place that’s not a condemned building to live. You have to go!” She finished with a nervous exhale as she awaited your reaction.
“You’re right.” You agreed.
“Yeah, I am and- wait… what?” Lyra stared at you, shocked.
“I’m going after them.”
“You are?” She double checked.
“Yup.”
“Oh, thank fuck!” Lyra exclaimed before she darted forward and wrapped you up in her arms.
“How long were you coming up with that speech?” You kidded as the two of you hugged.
“For however long you were holed up in your room.” Lyra said with a laugh. “And in case you didn’t listen to that, I had my rifle set to stun and was fully prepared to drag you.”
“Glad we could avoid that.” You replied drily. “Also, ‘sickeningly in love?’” You quoted.
“I meant that as a compliment. Most people can only dream of that.”
You managed a short laugh. “I was an ass to you.” You mumbled shamefully.
“You were, but you were going through a lot.” Lyra said kindly as she removed herself from your hold.
“I was broken and hurting but that wasn’t an excuse to treat you how I did and I’m so sorry. I’m truly grateful for you and your friendship and well, just everything you’ve done for me. I won’t ever forget it. There are some spare bags of credits from those jobs I pulled whilst we were on the move in my bedside drawer, take them. And if there’s anything, and I mean anything you need, I will be there. You only have to get in touch.” You passed her the details of the Marauder’s comm channel.
“Go get ‘em.” Lyra said with a grin.
You gave her one last quick hug before you ran out the door, concern for your injury was pushed far to the back of your mind. You only prayed to the Force that you hadn’t left it too late.
--
“But I still don’t understand why we’re going without her. What you’ve said makes no sense.” Wrecker questioned as he followed Hunter up and down the Marauder as he got stuff ready for take-off.
“Not my problem, Wrecker. I don’t really want to relive it all again so that it makes sense to you.” Hunter said gruffly as he avoided making eye-contact with his brother and instead focused on keeping himself busy.
“She met someone else and you’re basically doing the whole ‘if you love someone you let them go?’”
“I guess that about sums it up.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Wrecker-”
“I’m sorry, Sarge, but it’s true.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear her.”
“She can’t have meant it! She still has your insignia, if there was someone else, why would she keep that?!”
“Wrecker, drop it.” Hunter said sharply. His brother’s insistence that you were making all this up was only rubbing salt in the wound.
“We’re really just going to leave and forget about her?”
“Yup.”
Wrecker just couldn’t accept that. “If you love someone, you fight for them! Otherwise, what’s the point in what we’re doing right now, why should we bother going after Omega?”
Hunter paused his pacing by the doorway and released an exasperated sigh. “What do you expect me to do?”
Wrecker went to speak but changed his mind as to what he was going to say as he saw the figure in the background. “Actually, I don’t think you’ll have to do anything.” Wrecker said, looking past Hunter’s shoulder.
Hunter turned to follow his gaze and that was when he saw you. Standing in the torrential rain a few feet away from the steps to the Marauder, was you and you were obviously trying to catch your breath.
--
You started to speak before you caught your breath, so your words were leaving you in a desperate and winded manner. “I was always a bad student.” You raised your voice over the sound of the pouring way. You wiped some drops away from your face, a futile gesture given the intensity of the downpour, but the motion assisted in grounding you for this moment.
Hunter studied you from afar for a second, unsure as to why you’d started this way.
Sensing his uncertainty, you cleared your throat and started again but your words still spilled from your lips in a nervous ramble. “So, it turns out I was always a Jedi who developed attachments and love for people, but apparently that’s a pretty strong and unique quality and applying the Jedi philosophy of ‘letting attachment go’ is a mistake and- and it felt like one. I have such a poor grasp of that concept that even when I went to use it properly, I got it all wrong. I was always a terrible student but for once, for once in my life, I have never been more grateful for it.” Your voice quivered as you said these next words. “I love you! I love you so much it hurts but it’s the kind of hurt that I can’t imagine not having in my life. You, this team, are what keep me balanced and alive, and I was stupid to think letting you go was the solution to everything I have done!”
Hunter could feel his heart thundering in his chest as he listened to what you were saying.
“Finally seeing you again made me feel hope and brought a newfound sense of purpose in my life I didn’t think I’d have again but it got all twisted, I let it get all messed up! I saw you and Wrecker, and I felt that love again and it terrified me at first! I had been acting out and miserable for so long that I didn’t think I deserved to feel this way again or that I should burden you all with my past. I needed to be punished and this was the best way I could think of. I allowed whatever darkness that had been driving me for that period we were apart to convince me that you were better of alone and I had to say whatever I could to get that to happen and for that, I am sorry!” You were in full flow now, all the emotions you’d been supressing came crashing to the surface and for once, it actually felt good. You weren’t existing as a husk of armour anymore.
Hunter couldn’t stand the gap between you anymore and he got his feet in motion. He needed to be near you, he needed to hold you again. You didn’t seem to notice his movement though because you carried on talking.
“There was never anyone else, there could never be anyone else! You’re it for me and this-” You stopped and gestured to the half white skull insignia on your top layer. “When I had this and said that you were a part of me, I truly meant it! Even when we weren’t together, that feeling never faltered. Half my heart beats for myself and this family I was fortunate enough to find. The other half beats for you! You are so deeply engrained in my very being that when I didn’t have you, I could hardly call it living! And then I got you back, and I was flooded with all the emotions I’d been missing since that day we were separated, and they collided with everything I’d done wrong, and I just panicked! I entered self-sabotage mode and thought letting you out of my life was what I had to do! I ruined one of the few remaining good things in my life and was preparing myself to let it be so. Thankfully, it was pointed out to me just how incorrect I was and I’m sorry!”
Hunter kept slowly walking down the steps towards you, the heavy rain instantly cascading down his face and body, but he didn’t care. His sole focus was on you now and the words you were saying. The words that were now healing the open wound he’d had since leaving you in that run down apartment.
“I need to come back. I need to be with you and I’m sorry I got everything so wrong! I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but you have to let me come back!”
“Yes.” He said as he continued to shorten the distance between you both.
“This family is the light of my life. You are the light of my life. So, either, let me come with you or just shoot me because without you, without this squad, I am just a shell of a human being and I’m done feeling like that now! You have to let me come back!”
“Yes.” Hunter said again as he stopped in front of you.
“And I-” You cut yourself off as you finally registered what he was saying and that the space between you both was now only a matter of inches. “Really?”
Hunter nodded and his hand fell to your waist whilst the other cradled the side of your face.
“I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” You whispered softly as your hand rested on his now unarmoured chest and you got utterly absorbed in the feeling of his heart pounding beneath your fingertips- each beat emphasising that this was real, you were actually with him now- and you had no doubt that he could pick up on the way your own pulse was racing.
“It’s okay.” He breathed. “I love you too.”
“I love you.” You croaked out again as you felt the emotions rise in the back of your throat.
“You never stopped being a part of me either.” He murmured, his breathing heavy as his self-restraint was hanging by a thread, but he needed you to be sure. “Can I-” Hunter started to ask as he angled his head and slowly brought his lips closer to yours.
“Yes.” You cut him off. If he didn’t kiss you now, you felt as though you might stop breathing.
Hunter swiftly bridged the remaining distance and the dread he’d been experiencing at the idea of never finding you, at the idea of leaving you behind instantly evaporated in this moment as he finally placed his lips on yours.
You sighed into the sensation of experiencing this again and what began as hesitant and careful, soon became a kiss between two people fuelled by passion who had been apart for far too long and who would never be apart again. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him.
Hunter first made sure he held you securely in his arms but as the kiss progressed and both of you became more immersed in feeling each other once more, his hands started caressing everything he could find. The actions elicited a small but desperate noise from you which he already felt drunk off of and he needed to hear more of you. The rain that had once felt like a harsh cascade of cold, damp water now felt gentle and tepid. He got utterly absorbed in your warmth and he tasted the water on your lips, but the interference didn’t bother him, he just relished the feeling of having you back in his embrace again.
You faintly registered the sun breaking through and the rain lightened in its deluge as you kissed him. If it wasn’t such a perfect moment, you might’ve laughed at the cliched nature of it all, but you were too caught up in this feeling that you ignored it. You threaded your fingers in his hair and lightly tugged, soliciting that raspy and familiar groan from him and your stomach fluttered at the feeling.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore your current injury any longer and you felt it strain as Hunter held you tighter to him in response to your actions.
Hunter forced himself to pull away upon feeling your wince, his chest heaving as he worked on getting oxygen back into his lungs, but you interrupted his incoming question by continuing to plant light, affectionate kisses on the rest of his face and he couldn’t help the low but happy laugh that he let out. He lightly grabbed your shoulders and took a slight step back to take you in. The way the sun fell across your face had his breath catching in his throat. Your eyes were bright and looking at him with an adoration that he knew was reflected in his own gaze and the blissful smile on your lips beautifully captured the feelings of this moment. He rested a hand on the side of your face.
You looked into his own shining dark brown eyes and leaned into his touch with a soft and content sigh.
Hunter continued to slowly caress your cheek. “Not to disrupt your healing journey, but I have to ask… where do you stand on Cid and Hemlock?”
“Oh, don’t worry, they’re getting fucked up. I have permission on that front.” You said with a decisive nod. “I just have to watch the line with those that aren’t exactly personally involved.”
Not going to question where this permission came from exactly, he was just grateful whatever had happened, had brought you back to him so he just focused on the last part. “I can help with that. And you can look out for me too. We don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
You gave him an agreeing and grateful smile before you planted another tender kiss to his lips and grabbed his hand as the two of you walked back to the ship.
“This you officially back with us now?” Wrecker asked with a grin as you stepped aboard.
“You won’t be able to get rid of me.” You replied with a small smile as you gazed around you. There were times where you had felt uncertain as to whether you would stand amongst these comforting and familiar walls again, and your senses were flooded with the memories you had created and shared here. You swallowed harshly as you saw Omega’s and Tech’s spaces, but you regained your composure as you walked along the hallway. Your hand traced along the bunk you shared with Hunter and a soft sigh left your lips as you were instantly reminded of the slightly more personal moments you had experienced there.
It felt good to be home.
“Ready?” Hunter asked as you finished in the cockpit. He came beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you tight to him as Wrecker put the ship in hyperspace.
You nodded. “Let’s go get our girl.”
Next Oneshot>
Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @starwarsnerd111, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya
#the bad batch#the bad batch season 2#the bad batch s2#hunter x reader#hunter x female!jedireader#hunter x fem!reader#hunter x female!reader#sergeant hunter x reader#sergeant hunter#hunter tbb#hunter the bad batch#the bad batch hunter x you#hunter x y/n#tbb hunter x reader#the bad batch fanfiction#star wars#angst#fluff#friends to lovers
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Hangster AU -- Firefighter Bradley & Best Buy Employee/Aviator Jake
AU where Bradley is a firefighter and Jake is still an aviator. Jake is on a long leave, probably because of the mission, and he takes another job to pass the time. He works at Best Buy.
Bradley comes to Best Buy to buy something, he's still in uniform, so Jake knows where he works at. And they snark at one another, but Jake manages to throw the box of what Bradley needs at him, smirking all the time.
---
"Can we stop debating the merits of 10 different wires and connectors and just give me the box, please," Bradley said exasperated as he held a hand out for the box this Ken doll was holding.
"Sure, here, catch," Jake said shrugging throwing the box lightly at him. "No need to get as red as your fire truck."
Bradley groans, rolls his eyes, and walks away. He was never wearing his fire department shirt in public ever again.
---
Bradley put his keys on in his bronco. And turn it. Engine sputtering.
"Oh come on," Bradley muttered, moustache twitching.
He stepped down again on the brake and clutch, twisting the key. Nada. Bradley groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel wondering who the fuck to call.
He jumped when he heard a knock at the window, seeing Ken doll, looking sympathetic.
He opened the door.
"Need a jump?" Ken-doll asked.
Bradley, sighed, "Yes please."
"Give me a sec to bring my car over."
"Thank you."
---
"Man, you've been having issues with the lights and radio, too? But you just replaced the bulbs, right?"
Bradley deeply sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes, "Yeah."
"That's fucked up, man, good luck, better bring it to the shop for the wiring."
"No comment on the wires on this one?"
"Car wiring is a whole another thing I ain't gonna touch, too much of a headache for me," Ken-doll said, flicking the toothpick in his mouth to the side.
"How do you know so much about wires, anyways? You work with it a lot at Best Buy?" Bradley said going back inside his truck to try to start it.
"Nah, not really, I studied engineering, and my other job. You pick some stuff up along the way."
"You studied engineering and you work at Best Buy!?" Bradley said fingers slipping from the ignition.
"Anything wrong with that?" Ken-doll said, raising a brow.
"No, I mean-- Oh look the car's starting," Bradley said flustered. "Thank you, man, I'm Bradley Bradshaw by the way, incase you need anything, I'm by the fire station." Bradley said holding out his hand.
"It's Jake, and if you need anything from electronic goods to repair, come to Best Buy for a wonderful service," Jake said shaking his hand and winking.
"Should add auto-repair to that slogan."
---
A series of events caused them to meet again. And they hit it off, go one dates and all that.
Jake likes listening to Bradley's stories about his job, and Jake tells him about some crazy customers he had to deal with.
Bradley never asked about Jake's previous job/other job, and Jake,,, forgot.
---
One day, Bradley's station gets a call for a jet having to do an emergency crash landing. And they have to make sure that the area is clear and be prepared for anything that might happen. If the pilot gets stuck or something gets lit on fire.
And they're listening in on the radio with the pilot and pilot's instructor telling him what to do. Calm, steady, smooth, and knowledgeable.
Familiar.
They arrive on scene, get the pilot out, and the instructor comes eventually in a rush.
"Is my pilot, okay?" A familiar voice asked.
"Yeah, we're getting him checked out at the hospital, nothing severe."
He hears the man sigh, "Good."
The man turns the corner, and his eyes flickered to Bradley for a moment, before focusing back on the fire captain.
"I'm Lieutenant Commander Seresin, thank you for helping during this incident."
---
"You work in the Navy!?"
"Yeaahhh--"
"You didn't tell me!?"
"I forgot!"
A pause.
"Also does the team know we're dating?"
"The station? No, why?"
"Wanna mess with them?"
"I'm listening."
#fanfic#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun fandom#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#hangster#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x bradley bradshaw#word vomited this stuff#hope it makes sense
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teeny tidbits: namjoon wants a raise & y/n is kind of scary
i watched the proposal again recently + i’ve been on depop trying not to spend a million dollars on all the y2k corporate-core clothes = inspired me to write this snippet of ceo!y/n (you all know i have a soft spot for anything ceo i’m sorry)
“ever since you hired me, i’ve managed to boost sales up by approximately 28%-“ namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to continue standing tall as he points to the screen with his little laser pen, “i’ve been working here for nearly a year and a half which you can argue hasn’t been very long, but at the same time i feel as though my efforts and the results that i’ve produced is well deserving of a raise, miss y/l/n. i wasn’t going to say anything but i’ve actually been offered a position elsewhere with a higher salary, and, well- i do enjoy working here, and i would like to stay here, but-“
you lean back against your office chair, propping both elbows up on the arm chairs before pressing your fingertips together, staring intently at the presentation in front of you
your eyes follow the little red dot darting across the screen and you lick over your teeth as your head tilts to the side slightly
“-so, what do you think?” namjoon reaches the end of his presentation and tucks his pen into his shirt pocket, very much aware of how much heat is radiating off his body from the nerves
he’s heard some things about people who’ve tried to ask for raises, and making the bold move of coming directly to you has historically never ended very well for those guys
jungkook presses the button for the lights to turn on and the blinds to roll back up from where he’s standing by the front door, offering namjoon a smile and a supportive nod
at least five seconds of silence linger in the air and namjoon wonders if you’re able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest
you’ve also been maintaining eye contact with him the entire time he’s presented which makes him ten times as nervous because he’ll be the first to admit you have very nice eyes
“…i think all of this could’ve been an email, kim.” you lean forward, office chair squeaking slightly as you swipe your phone off the table and unlock it, “the next time you want something, i don’t need a thirty-eight minute presentation on why you think you deserve it.”
“ma’am?” namjoon’s face reddens and suddenly it feels like the collar of his button-up is suffocating him
“who’s trying to poach you from me?”
“i-if you don’t mind, i’d like to keep that detail priv-“ namjoon immediately stops talking when your eyes flicker up from your phone to look at him through your eyebrows, “ah- min corporations, miss y/l/n. i was contacted by their secretary last week.”
“mm, i’ve spoken to that secretary. preppy little thing.” you snort, eyebrow raising slightly at the memory of the one time you got a call on your personal cell phone from min corporations (you’re not even sure how that secretary got your damn number in the first place) inviting you to a lunch with mr. min yoongi himself
you went, of course, more than surprised to discover that the secretary wasn’t just his secretary but also his wife and the mother of his (adorable) daughter
you don’t know how she managed to go from secretary all the way to wife/mother but hat’s off to her for pulling that off
with that being said you’re sure that if she spoke three decibels higher all the dogs in the city would start barking and all the windows in your office would’ve cracked
“you’re a hard worker. i like having you on my team.” you set your phone face down on your desk, “get back to work. we can discuss numbers another day because if you make me look at another excel spreadsheet i might change my mind.”
“oh, i- thank you so much, miss y/l/n, i really appreciate it! thank you so much-“ namjoon fumbles with the projector and switches it off, a weight instantly lifted off his shoulders at the implication that he will, in fact, be getting a raise
“mm.” you gesture with a flick of your wrist for him to leave your office as you raise your phone to your ear, “min yoongi! trying to steal my star salesman, are you?”
jungkook opens the door for namjoon, stepping aside to let him out before shutting the door behind him quietly
“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jungkook beams, giving namjoon a hearty pat on the arm, “congratulations on the raise!”
“i think i need to take a shot or something, that was- so stressful.” namjoon lets out a breath, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, “god, she really- her eye contact is crazy intense sometimes-“
“it’s probably the eyeliner in her waterline making her look ten times scarier, you’ll survive-“
🎙️ ask y/n for eyeliner recommendations (talk to my characters!)
📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to your other faves!)
💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)
🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!)
#ceo!y/n#ceo!y/n drabbles#namjoon#namjoon drabbles#jungkook#jungkook drabbles#jungkook fics#jungkook fic recs#namjoon fic recs#jungkook drabble recs#namjoon drabble recs#jungkook fluff#jungkook fluff recs#namjoon fluff#namjoon fluff recs#jungkook headcanons#namjoon headcanons#bts fics#bts fic recs#bts x reader#namjoon x reader#jungkook x reader#teeny tidbits#namjoon teeny tidbits
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Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)
a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?
Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here
Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.
Live or die, detective. Make your choice.
The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you.
There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.
- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry.
You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs.
There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you.
One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition.
- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.
It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute.
God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.
Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost.
Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that.
- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color.
Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous.
- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood.
To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation.
- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.
You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips.
- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking.
You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.
If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room.
- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.
- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.
- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.
- I called you.
Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket.
- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.
***
The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat.
Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.
Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared.
Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket.
Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.
- Hoffman speaking.
- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips.
- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body.
He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach.
- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole.
His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight.
Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow.
- I take it the dinner isn't going well.
- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party.
- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.
For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous.
- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them.
He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours.
- You have my permission to ditch them.
Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.
- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station.
- Good night, Detective.
He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.
You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way.
The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves.
A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.
You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks.
Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy.
***
- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly.
His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.
You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt.
- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims.
- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head.
- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call.
Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it.
He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.
He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that.
Even after what he put you through.
His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case.
- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out.
You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you.
- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.
That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone.
- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons...
Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind.
- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.
There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains.
- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.
- He got hard while tying me up.
Silence.
Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?
- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.
Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.
Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.
- He didn't.
Hoffman wants to laugh.
***
He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.
Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station.
Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.
- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...
He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right.
Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.
- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.
The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.
Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow.
Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.
Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you.
He wanted to have that power over you.
Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance.
Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous.
Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside.
Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.
Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however...
His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...
Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.
Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler.
He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.
Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour.
The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish.
Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking.
His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily.
If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot.
But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful.
Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.
He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.
He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.
A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees.
Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up.
God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward.
Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.
If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.
Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting.
Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves.
He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge.
God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home.
Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity.
With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure.
This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault.
His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.
No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.
Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again.
To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die.
***
- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open.
- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat.
For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you.
- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.
- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie.
A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.
- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery.
- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.
- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.
- And one more thing...
Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt.
- I know what he smells like.
Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house.
Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again.
#mark hoffman x reader#saw x reader#mark hoffman#woop woop thats the sound of the police#woop woop thats the sound of the beast#my writing#saw franchise#saw
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