Think you can Hide from Me? Part 3

Once again, Gif aint mine I just REALLY LOVE IT. It’s one of my favorite scenes of him.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: You infiltrated, the plan fell into chaos, Boba is mad at you, you’re catching feels, lots of time skips and some ANGST.

Warnings? None... Really not yet at least. Slight DinxReader if you squint. This just got a lot more feelsy and I got a whole lot more invested in this than I expected to. Which honestly seems to happen a lot to me. NO SHAME.

I really want to thank everyone who has liked, favorited, reblogged, and followed! You’re all amazing and make me feel amazing too. It means a lot to me that everyone is enjoying my writing. My inbox is open and I’ll even make a Tag List if anyone is interested!

Part 1: The Infiltrator

Part 2: The Distraction

Part 4: The Reunion

--

Part 3: The Regret

You should have known that plan was going to go off the rails. What you didn’t know, however, was that Boba was going to end up being a casualty of it all as well, and by complete accident.

Sure, you’d been caught with the others, sure you’d been sentenced to death with the others… And oh yes Boba was pissed… Very pissed. You didn’t need to see his face to tell that he was because instead of riding in the barge, he was there to personally bind you and hold you on the way to the Sarlaac pit.

Standing next to Han and Luke was going to make this conversation very awkward, but it needed to be said.

“Ok… So you’re mad at me, right?” You said out loud. Both of them glanced over at you, but you felt Boba’s hand tighten around your shoulder and yank you backwards into him. “Ah!”

“Mad is an understatement, sweetheart,” his modulated voice hissed.

“Ok, that’s fair… I’m sorry I lied to you about the whole work thing. Really, I am.”

“Uh… (Y/N)?” Han questioned.

“Stay out of it Han,” you snapped quickly. “You too, Luke. Mind your business, both of you.”

The two backed off and tried their best not to pay attention to whatever you could possibly be talking about with the bounty hunter, someone they considered an enemy.

“Was fucking me a distraction too?” Boba growled. Now the boys were really trying not to pay attention.

“No, actually, that part was real,” you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I was telling the truth when I said I’d wanted to do that ever since I saw you, and still do, if you’ll have me.”

“I think that was your last roll in the sheets, princess. If you manage to make it out of this alive somehow, I’ll know and I’ll find you,” he threatened.

“Hm, sounds fun,” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. “If you make it out of this alive, I’ll come back and find you too. Do we have a deal?”

Boba scoffed and you figured he felt pretty confident that this was it and you were going to die some horrible death inside the belly of this beast.

“Deal,” he finally answered. 

Han and Luke both cut their eyes over at you and you shrugged. “I told you two to mind your own business.”

~*~

Things had happened so fast. One minute you were about to be shoved into the pit, the next Luke is jumping around doing Jedi stuff and mildly impressing you. You didn’t have time to admire, though, because you were struggling with one of Jabba’s guards while Han and Chewie were getting into it with Boba.

Somehow, you were trying to manage not getting killed but also trying to watch Han’s back because he was still blind, and now Chewie who had been shot… But also Boba because you really didn’t want him dying on you either. It was a weird situation all around.

You struggled with the guard and managed to land a hit, but then a blaster fired out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and into the pit. You were startled and turned to look where the shot came from, and sure enough you saw Boba’s blaster smoking. Your heart jumped into your throat and he simply nodded to you… Until he turned his sights on Luke.

You heard Chewie howl something out, heard Han get jumpy.

“Boba Fett?? Where??” He whipped around and smacked the bounty hunter right in his jetpack, which malfunctioned and sent him flying.

“Han what the hell??” You yelled over the chaos.

“I didn’t know he was right there! I can’t see!” He yelled back. You looked over the railing rather desperately, just in time to see the bounty hunter roll into the Sarlaac pit.

Well… That was a damn shame...

~*~

Five years had passed, and the Empire was defeated. Ghosts and whispers still lingered, but the Rebellion no longer needed you. It was now the New Republic and you didn’t really have any interest in politics. You said your goodbyes to your friends, the true heroes, and went back to being on your own.

You weren’t on your own for long, however, seeing as how you got caught up in chaos with another Mandalorian. This one was different, however. He had a kid with him. You didn’t mind babysitting during the really dangerous stuff but at the same time you sort of missed the chaos. After a while, the kid wanted to be everywhere his dad was so you were able to tag along.

Being with them led you back to Tatooine, to a small place known as Mos Pelgo. You wanted to help Din get the kid back with his own kind and when they spoke of another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo, you couldn’t help it as your heart jumped and your hopes spiked…

Especially when a ghost appeared in the doorway wearing Boba Fett’s armor.

You tensed beside Din, and he glanced at you briefly. 

“Boba…?” You questioned carefully, letting your eyes run down the person in front of you. He was tall, much more thin. There was no way…

“ ‘Fraid not, darlin’,” the ghost answered. 

First, you felt the icy cold stab of regret and loss all over again, then you felt the heat of anger bloom in you. Both you and Din were ready to throw down with the Marshal for entirely different reasons.

“Take it off,” Din ordered.

“Or I will,” your voice was a low warning, surprising all parties involved.

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” the ghost now known as Cobb Vanth smirked at you.

“Yeah you say that now until you’ve got a knife in your back. Where the hell did you get that? And don’t say Jawas. That armor belonged to someone. Someone I knew!” You snapped. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Anything else would be a lie. I did get it from the Jawas.”

A growl slipped your lips and you took a step forward, but Din grabbed you first. In the end, everything worked out in your favor. Cobb gave up the armor in exchange for help against the Dragon that plagued Mos Pelgo. When the two of you and the child were back safely on the Razor Crest, there were several times when Din would catch you gazing at the old armor, running your fingers across it, leaning your head against the empty helm.

He even thought he saw tears…

Finally, one night, he managed to carefully edge the story out of you. It was a little difficult, but you managed well enough.

“It was just supposed to be a fling, you know? No strings attached, just to say I did it. But there was just something about him, something else that drew me to him. I wanted him to live, I tried to protect him but so many things happened that day, and so many things went wrong way too quickly…” Your voice caught in your throat, but you laughed despite yourself. “I ended up catching feelings for this fucking bounty hunter after he supposedly died.”

“It’s possible those feelings grew from guilt,” Din said calmly. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me with this. I’m sorry this is bringing you so much pain.”

“Oh they most definitely grew from guilt, but then when I saw his armor, hope grew. He had to have come out of it. He’s got to be somewhere, I just don’t know where… And I don’t know if he’ll kill me on sight, so you might want to get ready for that too.”

“(Y/N) when are we not almost killed on sight?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice, and it made you smile. “I think we can manage,” he assured you.

“Yeah… Let’s hope…”

~*~

Seeing the armor hit you hard, but being on top of that mountain with Din and Grogu and seeing Slave 1 come out of the atmosphere and into the sky really did a number on you.

“Oh shit… Oh shit…”  You muttered.

“What? Who is that?” Din looked over at you.

“I… I don’t know. It used to be Boba’s ship but there’s no damn telling now. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Somebody could have scavenged it or something.”

“Well we need to figure it out, come on,” he waved for you to follow, and you did so, trying your best not to seem too eager.

Unfortunately, that eagerness faded with the blaster fire, and the both of you took cover behind a rock.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

That voice… It made your heart thunder in your chest. Masked by a modulator or not, you could tell it was him. You tensed and Din noticed. He looked over at you and you looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You gave a quick nod.

“It’s him… It’s Boba…”

“So not a Jedi… Great,” he whispered. The both of you eased out from behind the rock and you got your first good look at him. He was dressed in black robes, the hood thrown over his head, weapons strapped to his back.

“Boba??” You couldn’t stop yourself as you called out to him. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a scarred face. It did nothing to deter you, however. He was older, but you were still just as attracted to him as you had been years ago. He stepped forward and moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. It made you a little nervous. “If you’re going to kill me then ok, just do it, but I want you to know that I’m sorry first,” you said quickly holding your hands up. “I’m sorry for what happened that day.”

“Surprised to see me alive?” It was a simple question. No dark tone or anger.

“Relieved is more like,” you admitted. “I looked for you, for any sign of you after the war was over, but I never found anything. I knew somehow, though. I knew you’d survived, but I didn’t know if you’d want to kill me or not.”

“You know me well enough, girl. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it right after I crawled out of that pit,” his eyes roved down you and you felt that old familiar rush, that feeling of playing with fire again. “It’s good to see you, princess, and we’ll talk later. For now, we need to talk about my armor that your man made off with.”

@pinkiemme @chadillacboseman​ If you need me I’ll be in the trash compactor thanks.

Vengeance = Repentance

PART 1: VENGEANCE

Summary: Reader had bullied Todoroki throughout all his time in high school. Years later, after a reconnection during an after-work drinking session, she goes back to his place, naively unaware of the payback he has planned for her…

Words: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit, Smut (in part 2)

Warnings: bullying by reader in beginning, murderous thoughts by Todoroki, Dark!Todoroki, drugging

(no smut in the first part, just immense build-up)

Notes: I could not for the life of me think of an interesting Todo fic to write. Until...THIS baby popped into my mind. It was actually really challenging and fun to write what goes on in the mind of Dark!Todoroki. I hope I did it justice.

~~~

He hated you.

Sometimes the only reason he had for living was simply to see the day that you’d be six feet under a cold batch of dirt. You’d be all alone down there with no one to control. No one to manipulate. No one to blackmail or threaten.

You’d have no lackey to run around and get you sweet bread from the convenience store. No lookout to make sure any teachers came to catch the abominable acts you committed in the bathroom stall or behind the gymnasium. No rich father to make sure that whatever horrible deeds you committed that were reported were swept gracefully under a rug.

And most importantly, you wouldn’t have him. The target of all your psychological and physical abuse. The one person who constantly fulfilled your insatiably engorged sadistic ego.

“Heyyy~ Shou, can you come here for a sec?” You had called out to your bi-colored haired classmate from the threshold of the class’ door. The twitch in his shoulders in reaction to your voice made you chuckle. Todoroki slowly slid his chair back, making a scratching noise against the tiled floor, and got up. He walked up towards you with his eyes trailing the floor.

“Yes?”

“Ohh! So obedient today, aren’t we? Hehe- It was only a matter of time I suppose.” You smiled your disgustingly innocent smile at him. “I need you to check something for me. It’s important, okay?”

He stayed silent as he watched you move the hand that was behind your back out forward. You had a carton of milk in your hand, and it seemed to have already been open. He saw you put the carton to your nose and sniff harshly from where the opening was before shoving the carton into his chest. A bit of milk spilled out and dripped onto his uniform.

“This milk. It smells kinda funky. I want you to check it for me.”

“…If it smells funny then it’s probably-“

“Did I ask for your cheap opinion? Just do the favor, alright?” You frustratingly squeezed the carton in your hand which made even more milk spurt out and land on your hand as well as Todoroki’s uniform again. “Ugh! Shit! Look what you made me do! From being so obstinate.”

“Sorry…” He took the carton from your hand. It was practically half full now so he wondered why you even still cared so much. But he didn’t ask. He put the carton to his nose and sniffed to try and find a rotten smell to it. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Are you stupid? Not like that, idiot. You’ll never know if its bad if you check like that.” You quickly took the milk from him and raised it in the air. “You have to check like this~” You began to slowly pour the rest of the carton’s contents onto his head, completely soaking his silky hair and ruining his uniform even more. The milk drenched into his shirt and he could feel its cool wetness trickle his skin. “Ahaha! Weeell?? Is it bad or not, Shouutoo??”

There was a loud commotion of hoots and hollers from the other classmates as they watched your tormenting of Todoroki.

“Uwaah!! Milk boy got dunked on again!!”

“Gross! He’s gonna smell so bad later…”

“Dude! Go wash up! You’re gonna make the whole class smell like milk!”

“Krrgh..” Todoroki choked up in frustration, his hands balled into a fist. The fact he couldn’t just punch you right now could drive him to a point of enraged insanity.

The fact he had to let you get away with this over and over again just because of your father’s notorious connections with various government and business groups. He sometimes thought about just killing you anyway and dealing with the consequences. Prison would be more manageable than continuing to live in this same physical plane as you.

He thought about how he’d do it, too. If he would try to do it inconspicuously with poison, or conspicuously with his hands wrapped around your slender little throat. The former lead to more chances of him getting away with it. He could have the pleasure of your death along with his freedom. But the latter…the latter was just too enticing to pass up. Being able to hear your gargled whimpers attempting to beg for your life. Your legs that would try to kick and pry him off your weak body. Your face losing its color as your body is abruptly deprived of oxygen. And finally, his personal favorite, your bloodshot eyes that would be pleading for him to give you mercy before finally greying out.

Yes…the latter would have to do. Time in prison would be a beautiful cost to pay to see you perish under his fingers. The world would thank him later, for getting rid of their waste. Your death would serve as your repentance

But he was weak. Scared. He couldn’t find the conviction he needed to actually go through with it. It made him feel even worse. Maybe you were never wrong, and he was truly as spineless as you treated him.

But he’d get stronger. He had to. He needed to. He craved to.

-------------------------9 YEARS LATER-------------------------

“Good job on closing the deal, Todo!”

Todoroki had felt a harsh pat on his back before a heavy arm was slung over his shoulder by his spikey red haired coworker as he was grabbing his blazer off the chair.

“It was nothing, Kirishima.” He replied coolly but not without a small twinge of a smile.

“Ha! ‘It was nothing’ he says!” The energetic man turned his head around to face everyone else in the office. “Hey! Everyone! Pay attention to this guy right here! You might become the most successful businessman this country has to offer!”

The office chuckled and gave soft cheers for Todoroki, some of them poking fun at Kirishima’s exuberant display of comradery.

“Todo! Kiri! You guys are coming out for drinks, right!” Another one of Todoroki’s energetic co-workers, this time with bright yellow hair, briskly jogged up towards them. “I already invited the ladies!”

“Totally, dude! Where are we supposed to be going?”

“Heights Alliance! That bar has the best drinks and food a guy could ask for. Not to mention cute girls!

Todoroki softly brushed off the arm of Kirishima before putting his jacket on. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Aw! Come on dude!” This time, the yellow-haired co-worker placing his arm around Todoroki’s shoulder. “You alllways bail on us! Come with us this time! Drinks on Kiri!”

“Hey, Kaminari! Don’t decide that for yourself!” Kirishima retorted. “But yeah, man. You should come out. We miss you sometimes, dude.”

Todoroki hesitated as he contemplated his fellow workers’ requests. Honestly, he had never gone out to just...have fun. He would clog his mind with work which was probably why he was successful anyways. He didn’t even know why he was so disciplined when it came to his career. Not knowing what his goals even were. Focusing primarily on work, but for what? To just deny any moments of pleasure or belonging?

Maybe it was time for a change.

“…Alright.”

“Wooo!!! Todo is officially on board!”

The loudness of the cheers of his coworkers rang stingingly through his eardrums but he couldn’t suppress the smile that stemmed on his face.

As he had the feeling tonight would be an unforgettable night.

-------------------------------------------------

Todoroki sighed as he sipped the last of his drink and placed it softly on the counter in front of him. He sat alone as he thought about what he was even doing there. The entire evening basically constituting to watching his co-workers ramble on about various subjects that he could not get the meaning behind. After a while of heavy drinking, that he did not participate in, everyone either went bar-hopping or went home passed out in a taxi. He truly did not understand the purpose of such gatherings and he started to wonder how he’d even fit into society.  

As he thought to himself, the sudden words from the bartender disrupted his thoughts.

“Oh hey, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

The abrupt sound of your name made him widen his eyes and his body unconsciously jolt in the barstool. Was it really the same Y/N? No, it couldn’t be. Surely there were a bountiful amount of people with names that were similar to yours. But he had to check for himself, so he looked up from his empty glass and-

“Haha…Shinsou. Looking as gorgeously sleepy as ever. How are you?”

The sounds of your conversation with the bartender drowned out with the rest of the bustled atmosphere as he glared upon you. Without a doubt, it was you. He could never forget that figure. That figure that towered over him menacingly even though he was taller than you. That figure that just watched from a distance as you sent your delinquent underlings to pummel him into the cold cement. That figure who would bow respectfully to teachers when they dismissed any reports of your lechery. And now that same figure was only a few feet away from him, sitting gracefully at the bar counter as you talked to the unknowing bartender.

His glare locked long enough onto your figure for you to finally meet his eyes. And before he could look away, you had called out to him.

“Eh..? To…Todoroki?” You had softly called out to him. Using his name in a way that he had never heard from you before. Using a voice that harshly contradicted the patronizing tone you barked commands at him with. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”. You were smiling at him. Smiling at him as if he were a longtime friend that you missed connections with due to one of you going abroad.

You had hopped out of the barstool and approached your old classmate, taking a new seat beside him. He looked over at the wall of drinks displayed in front him, avoiding your gazing. “Wow…you’re all grown up now, huh?” You looked over to the bartender raising your hand at him. “Shinsou~ A refill on whatever he had, okay? Make it two actually.” The bartender simply nodded at you before mixing up various alcohol and flavors behind the counter.

“I..I don’t want to drink.” Todoroki shivered at his own statement as he was reminded of the times you’d scream at him for not doing something you’d ask.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s on me, okay? Don’t worry about it.” You had inched your head more over the counter trying to get a better look at him. “Your hair…I always thought it was dyed. But I guess its real, huh.” You reached your hand out to run your fingertips through his silky bi-colored bangs. He twitched at your touch.

What exactly were you doing? Acting so innocent with him like this. Were you just going to pretend like the three-year long trauma you subjected him to was a fable? An illusion? Or perhaps you had minimized the damage you’d done in your mind in order to preserve your own sanity as you took over a new life.

“...Y/N. What are you doing?”

You quirked your eyebrows in confusion at his question. “What do you mean? I just…I just think your hair is really pretty is all.”

Were you faking it? Was this another one of your atrocious jokes? Perhaps within the next minute you’d start cackling at him, asking him how he could be stupid enough to believe he deserved such niceties from the likes of you.

Todoroki looked down and squeezed the empty glass on the counter. “Don’t you…don’t you remember? What you did to me?”

“Todoroki…” You lowered your eyebrows in sorrow. “I-I’m sorry for what I did to you back then. I was indeed…a cruel person. I know you probably won’t accept that…but I still want to tell you. You at least deserve my apology. As cheap as it is.”

He looked over to you, surprised at your apologetic tone. He gazed into your e/c eyes. The very e/c eyes that captured the hearts of everyone around you, yet seethed supremacy and calamity toward him. He had learned to distrust anyone with eyes that resembled yours. The eyes that were now looking at him with…

Remorse. Your eyes were burdening in remorse. As soon as Todoroki saw the guilt that dwelled in your eyes he knew that this wasn’t a joke. That you weren’t pretending to feel these things. The look in your eyes unquestionably conveyed the apology you had stated earlier.

And it was that same look that would ascend an unusual beast that lurked within the visceral regions of his body. An unfamiliar thirst that stayed submerged within him, never needing to be satisfied until now. It gurgled within the depths of his gut, practically wanting to vomit out of his esophagus.

A beast that went by the name of revenge. And it would be so easy to pursue it right now with the plague of repentance beating in your heart.

Todoroki placed one of his hands on yours and squeezed tightly. Your skin was so soft, so smooth. He could never take the time to feel how delicate your skin was when the only touch of yours he knew before was the stinging slaps you’d deliver on his face. But tonight, he’d be able to feel something more, and the touch of his hands on yours only made the beast inside of him grow more and more unruly.

“I forgive you, Y/N.” He tried to state it in the softest way possible, making sure the feigning of the line wouldn’t be discovered. However, he knew you believed him by the twinkle in your eye, signifying an immense weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“Todoroki…” A warm tear dropped from your cheek to his hand. “Thank you, Todoroki… thank you.” More tears would soon follow and drop onto his hand. He would’ve let go of you if he wasn’t so encapsulated by the feeling of your salty waters dropping onto his skin. As your tears cooled and dried up into his hand, he couldn’t have felt more enthused.

It was only then that Todoroki could take in the beauty that was your face. You looked so elegant like that, with pools of emotions trailing down your cheeks. Maybe if he’d seen this site of you in high school he’d had instantly fell in love. But such feelings didn’t reside in him anymore. They’d been evicted by the lurking beast of revenge, and that beast was craving more of this site from you.

“Two Vieux Carre cocktails” The bartender had placed the drinks on the counter in front of each of you before grabbing something under the counter. “…and a tissue”. He handed the soft fabric to you which made you giggle a bit.

“Thank you, Shinsou.”

He simply hummed a reply at you and returned to making drinks for other patrons that had walked in.

While you wiped away the allure that was your tears, Todoroki sat there, thinking of prolific strategies of how to get you under his grip. Should he just ask you to come home with him? Wouldn’t that be too straight forward? He didn’t know much about social interactions, but he knew asking a woman at a bar to come home with him had its underlying implications. And its not that he was undesired by women; he knew of the colleagues in his office that held romantic feelings for him. He just never followed through with any of them, never feeling anything close to the desires that were brought for him.

He also couldn’t help but feel subconscious about asking you to come home with him. You were the person that so incredibly ridiculed him for three years. You were still the same person who made him believe that no sane person would ever look twice at him. That he was too weak and monotonous to ever make someone feel happy.

Or were you? It seemed that whatever life change you went through caused you to redevelop your entire personality. Maybe you’d be like most the women he encountered in his life and become attracted to him? After-all, he also wasn’t the same person as he was in high school. He’d become stronger mentally and physically as well as much more confident about himself.

“Y/N, would you like to…finish drinking at my home?”

You stopped drying your tears at the suddenness of the question. “Huh?...You actually want me in your home?”

“Only if you want to.” Todoroki squeezed your hand again attempting to signal the desire to have you with him in private.

Blood rose to your nose and you looked away in embarrassment. “…Okay.”

Todoroki couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes at your acceptance. A part of him truly believed you’d call him disgusting before jumping up and delivering one of your characteristic slaps to his face. The heavens knew just how badly that needed to happen. If you’d rejected him, the beast of revenge may have gone right back to where it resided, deep in the subconscious of his mind.

But no, you’d accepted him. And with that, you’d accept your punishment. If you were truly ready to take on a new life, you would need to repent for your old one.

------------------------------------------------------------

Todoroki couldn’t stop the erratic beating of his heart as the two of you walked over the threshold into his house. He was closer and closer to fulfilling the dream of having you within his grips. But he couldn’t be too impatient as this would be the part where he would need to tread carefully. As the two of you took off your shoes, he would continue to watch your every move, like a jaguar stalking its prey.

“Woww!” Your eyes wandered around Todoroki’s living room, amazed at how expansive and beautifully designed it was. “Your house is so luxurious! And polished!” You looked back at Todoroki. “It suits you.”

Todoroki was a bit taken aback by your statement. As far as he knew, you had a rich father who catered to everything your callous heart desired. He was partly the reason behind his suffering seeing as that your father made sure any unpleasantry brought against you was hushed behind a closed door. “You aren’t used to this?” He stepped over to the mini-bar area and reached up to grab a specific bottle of wine.

“Huh?” You followed behind him and leaned against the bar counter, grazing your finger over the refined marble surface.  

“This…kind of house. You aren’t used to it?” He grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer and began to pry off the wine bottle’s cork. “Your father was a rich businessman was he not?”

You scoffed as you rested your elbow on the marble. “My father was in the yakuza. Rich in some aspects, but no businessman.” Your eyes fell from Todoroki to the counter. “And we never got to live in a place anywhere this grand. Especially after he was taken down by the cops…”

“I see.” It made perfect sense honestly. Your yakuza connections would explain the lackeys, the apathy of the teachers towards your lechery, the strange approval of your actions by the entire class. It must’ve been hard behind the scenes having to be the daughter of a yakuza member, but nonetheless it wouldn’t your crimes against his humanity. Todoroki poured two glasses of wine and placed one on the counter next to you.

“Should we…sit on the couch?” You looked towards to main part of the living room, eyes landing on Todoroki’s expensive sectional. “I-I mean…if you want to…”

Todoroki noticed the flustering of your face and couldn’t help but think that if the two of you had met under different pretexts he would surely have made you his wife. But marriage is not what this affair is about. This affair is about satisfying the demon that grew expansively inside of him.

He grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers between yours as he picked up both glasses with his other hand. “I’d love to, Y/N”.

He walked the two of you over to the couch, waiting until you sat down to hand you your glass and sit closely beside you. He carefully watched as you took sips from the glass, mesmerized by the shape of lips and how you’d glossed them for your night out. They looked so soft and delicate and perfectly matched the dimensions of your face.

But your naivety obviously outmatched your beauty Todoroki thought. How could you so easily drink from the hands of someone who would so obviously want to get revenge on you? Did your newfound personality make you oblivious to the dangers of life? Maybe after wanting to permanently discard the remains of the yakuza from your brain, you decided to look at people in a new light. Maybe you wanted to just see the good in everyone and learn that most people aren’t out to destroy you. It is indeed a true thought; most people don’t want to destroy you.

But most people also don’t subject those around them to abhorrent acts of malice. And for that, your naivety would prove to be one of the worst decisions you’d made in your small existence.

“Your wine…it tastes very good.” You had swirled what left of it you had before drinking it all within a couple more gulps.

Probably the best compliment you could have said in your life. Todoroki had taken the time to make sure every speckle of power was completely dissolved into the wine. He couldn’t taste it himself or get a taste tester of course, so he would have just had to wait until your ultimate encountering to test it. And it worked.

“It was a gift from a friend abroad.” A lie. But a believable lie. “I’m glad you like it.”

You quizzingly looked at his still full glass of wine in his hand. “Why didn’t you drink any?”

“Oh...I- well I guess I am already a bit tipsy from the bar so further consumption would be ill-advised.” He smoothy stated before placing the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggled at the statement as Todoroki internally cackled at your gullibility.

“You know, Todoroki…” Your eyes strayed to your lap. “I know this must mean nothing coming from me but…I liked you a lot in high school.” You twirled your index finger in circles on your skirt. “And I know I was mean to you but…I believe that our encounter must have been fate because, well…I still like you.”

Todoroki smiled, a cover-up for the guttural laughter that wanted to burst out of him. He let go of your hand and traced his fingers across your cheek before holding the side of your face delicately in his hand. “That…means more than you’d ever know, Y/N.”

“Shouto…”

He leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek before pressing his lips against yours. Your lips were just as soft as they looked and the gloss you wore provided a sweet vanilla taste. You sunk your hand into the red side of his hair before slipping your tongue in between his lips. Your tongue felt hot in his mouth and Todoroki grabbed your head to pull you deeper into the kiss. He tasted every part of your mouth that he could with his tongue. Your teeth, your gums, the inside of your cheeks. He made sure to leave his mark everywhere in your mouth, foreboding to the marks that would soon be left on your body.

As his kiss got deeper, yours became shallower and lazier. Eventually you pressed your hand against his chest to softly get him to back up.

“I’m sorry, Shouto…” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “It seems…I have a headache…and I’m kinda sleepy.” Your eyelids drooped heavily as sleep seemed to overcome you. “I…should go home.”

Shouto grabbed your head and leaned you down on the couch, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Ssshh…its okay Y/N. You can just sleep here for tonight. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

“Okay…thankyou, Shouto.” You quickly drifted off to sleep at the finish of your sentence.

When Todoroki felt the heaves of your chest raise higher and lower at deeper levels, he picked you up into his arms, carrying you gently to make sure you wouldn’t wake up. Though that was a rare chance seeing as how he put a little extra power in the wine to make sure it would subdue you. He carried you down the corridor to the door that would lead to your demise. Before he walked down the stairs, he whispered into your non-listening ear.

“This encounter is indeed special, Y/N. But it will be more special to you than it will for me…because tonight will mark my vengeance. And tonight will also mark…your repentance.”

Laughter Lines

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 5: Extra Credit ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ HEAVY, HEAVY CONTENT WARNINGS: drug use, detailed suffocation, detailed drowning, suicidal ideation, heavy guilt mentions ]

To dream that you are drowning indicates that you are feeling overwhelmed by emotions. Repressed issues may be coming back to haunt you. If you drown to death, then it refers to an emotional rebirth.

==

“That job was somethin’ else, yeah?” “Can say that ‘gain.” Ashley turned his eyes to the stars in the sky, fingers dug into the sand as he sat back against one hand, the other steadying a pipe in mouth. The stench of whatever he was smoking usually had Hunter rile up his nose in disgust… but this one was rather pleasant. Or maybe he had just grown so used to it, that it became a comfort. His eyes turned up as well, only to close to listen to the sound of the ocean gently washing the shore. “Ruta said you’re from ‘round here.” “Mm. Yeah. Limsa.” “...The ocean’s nice. I think I could stay out here a while.” “Yeah? I think so too. Can’t imagine growin’ up in a desert like ya’.” “It… Yeah, it ain’t much.” Ashley laughed, sitting up to look over his friend - then held out his pipe to him. “Want a hit?”

“Not really. But sure.” Ashley never pressured anyone to join him in his habits, and Hunter never took to it. But after their most recent job, it seemed best to get his mind off the entire thing, so he took the offer - inhaling a bit too much for someone not used to doing so. Before he knew it, he was choking on the smoke like he swallowed water wrong, waving his hand at Ashley as he laughed at him. “Got greedy!” “Like-- like hells--” He coughed between words, trying to laugh through the pain in the back of his throat. “Oh, gods… that’s strong.” “Usin’ this one for th’same reason yer wantin’ it.” “Can’t get it outta yer head?” “Mm.” Ashley shook his head. “Well, s’bit easier to ignore it when yer head’s floaty.” “Floaty? More like cloudy. Ooch.” There was silence between them again - but it was comfortable. It usually was, whenever they were in each others’ company. If it wasn’t prodding, it was some form of understanding through silence. “Ash?” “Yeah?” “...What d’ya’ think yer gonna do when yer done with all this work, in th’end.” “I dunno… haven’t thought o’ it. I… hm. Maybe I’ll settle down by the ocean.” “Maybe I’ll join ya’.” Ashley snorted. “Join me in settlin’ down?” Hunter returned it with that dorky smile he had whenever he had a dumb thought and was waiting for someone to catch just how dumb it was. Except this time, Ashley didn’t think it so dumb - no, he blinked at him, as if saying that were the highest form of honor; he wasn’t sure how to respond. He scooted over closer to him, taking his pipe back from him to take another - more impressive - long drag from it; just to show off how he swallowed it down into his lungs without much of an issue at all. In one motion, startling Hunter, Ashley flipped his knee over his lap so that he straddled him; now mimicking that.

“Helluva way t’propose, I’d say.” As he spoke; the smoke kept in, now pouring out in clouds; but a murmur as he closed the distance between them with a surprisingly passionate kiss - the rest of that cloud sucked down Hunter’s throat as he made a noise of bewilderment. He made no move to turn him away, however, now pushing into him until both needed to breathe. “Ash.” “Mhm.” They stared at each other - it was a moment that would have been engrained there forever. This one moment. “Ash, I-... I think I lo--” “Sh, no… don’t say nothin’. Nothin’ at all.” Ashley inhaled sharply, then smiled brightly. “...Not ‘til we get that chance t’settle down.”

==

“Ah, Ashley, right?” “Again? Don’t people have other people they can bother with this crap?” “I-... I apologize, sir. Our company, we were looking for more of your caliber.” “Caliber? You wantin’ me to kill off your people too? Look, kid, you obviously haven’t heard-” “We have, yes. But one mistake doesn’t mean all of the successes were mistakes as well.” “One mistake cost me my family, and it’ll cost you yours.” “Everyone who chooses this profession… goes into it knowing the risks, sir.” “...” The man was right, they knew that every mission had a chance of failure - yet they put themselves up on a pedestal, made themselves and thought themselves the best. Ashley let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. But no, I can’t join ya’. I’m not ready yet.” “I see… thank you for your honesty, sir. Hopefully… you’ll think of us in the future, should you ever be ready.”

==

The ocean was something of a bittersweet notion, whether it was the memories or the way it was portrayed. The memories - gods, he held tight to them, maybe too tightly. They brought a wash of guilt and pain over him, regardless of how fond they were. Just as the ocean was both the clearest water, gentle and caressing in one moment - then the night would come and turn sapphire waves into bleak emptiness. Full of bounty, full of death, of sunshine, of storms - everything about it fit the description.

The ocean was bittersweet.

Ashley dug his bare feet into the sand, wiggling his toes into the soft grains as he watched the waves drag them further under. “Bet y’d never think t’see me in shorts, huh?” He spoke to no one, but his eyes were on the clouds. “I actually prefer ‘em. I wonder… what kinda clothes y’would’ve preferred outside o’ the armor?” The wonders were met with silence, only the sound of waves filled his ears. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere today. I told ya’ I could sit here with ya’, settle down here. I--” He hung his head, gritting his teeth as he held back tears, to no avail. “I wish y’were here. T’join me. We coulda been lazin’ out here… *I* coulda been, then y’d scold me fer bein’ too lazy. Then we’d laugh. I’d ask ya’ if ya’ wanted t’smoke with me - n’ you’d deny me ‘til y’didn’t. Gods, I miss ya’. I hope Llymlaen’s takin’ good care o’ ya’.” He trudged back to the dry shoreline, flopping into the sand and stared at the sky, listening to the waves until the sun started to set.

“*That’s* what y’d wear if y’could wear anythin’? Yikes.” A familiar voice struck his ears and he clamoured to his feet to greet it. “Hunter?!” He rushed at that lumbering body, filled with so many emotions - relief, anger, sadness. “Hunter, gods be! You- you’re… Hunter, I--” There was that flash again, his head raging a headache as he relieved that moment; that smile, the thumbs up, the last moments spent with him were in danger. And he. He was the one that lived. Why? For what?

He felt his breath taken from him when his eyes opened again. They stung with salt water as he sank deeper under the waves; they cast a hazy glimpse at the clear and reflective surface of waves above him, his hair waving about with the currents. This was the final straw, wasn’t it? This is the one that would take him - he… started to wish it, at this point. He hoped this was true. The sound of the waves and currents in his ears, water soaking his skin and clothes, pulling him further in. He did try to swim away, swim for air, but the water tugged him back in - what he felt was like a lover holding onto him, begging him not to leave.

He gave in when he couldn’t hold the air in his lungs anymore. This was no gentle smoke, no clouds nor fog poured from his lips to spew jests or to give kisses; yet the water still took his mouth with a passion he had only felt once. When he tried to cough, feeling the searing pain in his chest, the tides laughed at him - laughed with him. The corners of his vision were fading, blackening as he struggled to stay awake.

Who would miss him? Who would *he* miss? There was nothing and no one for him. He was so filled with images of war, of abuse, of fires, and murders. Why would he want to keep this? No, he could let go, he could join them; start this whole life-thing over again. Try again. Try for a better end. A storybook just as bittersweet as the sea that swallowed him. As he felt the last of his consciousness fade, he could only smile.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all.

==

He woke up with another start, the tides licked his legs and the stars stared down at him. He coughed, as if the water truly reached his lungs, trying to rid itself of the salt that coated them. But there was nothing. He awoke in tears. Not today, that dream told him. Not today, his love told him. He slowly stood up, searching the shore for his pipe and matches - thankful when he found them dry. He sat back down further away from the water, covered himself in a coating of sand, and looked at the stars.

“This one’s fer you, buddy.”

No Living Thing

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian has never shown his face to another living thing since he swore the Creed.

Warning(s): Blood, Injuries, Angst, Death

Ambiance: “Anakin’s Dream” - John Williams

A/N: I have gotten such an amazing response for Touch. Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read my work! I sincerely appreciate every single one of you!

Masterlist

Tag Lists

When you open your eyes, you see the stars, bright and clear above you. You think to yourself that it’s the most beautiful thing that you’ve ever seen. You could stare at them forever if the galaxy would only let you. In them, you find peace that you haven’t felt in years.

Your reverie is interrupted by the ringing in your ears. It’s loud and painful and you close your eyes against the intrusion. You wish to sink back into the sleep that had claimed you before.

Then there’s the blaster fire.

You hear it as you come into fuller consciousness. It rouses you and forces your eyes open once more. Suddenly you remember where you are. Why you’re there.

You try to push yourself upright, but the only response you find is pain. It starts in your abdomen and spreads like fire up your spine. It’s excruciating in a way that you have never felt before. The ringing in your ears drowns out your scream, but you still feel it rip through your throat.

Slowly, you’re able to move your arm to the source of the pain. Your hand comes away shaking and covered in blood. You don’t have to see the wound to know that it’s bad, but it’s not your own state that you’re concerned about.

Where is the child? Where is the Mandalorian?

The three of you had been attacked on your way back to the Razor Crest. Somehow an entire band of Guild hunters had tracked you to the small Outer-Rim planet you’d taken shelter on. The Mandalorian had shoved the baby into your arms and demanded that you hide in the ship under lockdown, but there was no way you were leaving him to fight alone. You just hoped that the kid was still in his pod, safe from the mercenaries that would more than willingly end his innocent little life.

You remember now. Being shot by some scumbag bounty hunter that you hadn’t seen coming. You remember being blinded by the grenade that he had thrown seconds after. After that: darkness.

The ringing in your ears begins to dissipate, and when it’s gone, you realize that the barrage too, has ended. The ringing is replaced by the blood pounding in your ears. You can’t hear or see anything. You have no idea who the victor of this battle is.

You hear him before you see him.

“Y/N!,” you hear the Mandalorian call, and the sound of his modulated voice brings a wide smile to your face. You ignore your split lower lip as it stings in protest. He’s alive.

He comes into your field of view just moments later, dropping to his knees beside you. He takes you into his beskar plated arms, gentle in a way you didn’t think possible for a Mandalorian, at least, not before you met this one. In the months that you’ve been traveling with him, you’ve seen the infinite care he exhibits with the kid. The way he soothes the child and tucks him into his pod at night. Plays with him when he doesn’t think you’re looking. Really, given the years you’d spent as a Guild bounty hunter yourself, you’d never seen anyone care for something that way. And the child wasn’t even his.

“Wh-Where is he?,” you choke out desperately, needing to know that the baby is safe now that the fighting is over.

“He’s still on the ship. Where you should be. I told you to stay with him,” he replies, and though he tries to keep an edge in his tone, tries to scold you for disobeying his direct orders, you can hear the growing anxiety in his voice. He’s scared.

You relax in his arms at that. They’re both safe. That’s enough for you.

“Good…”

Din Djarin can recall very few times that he’s been truly terrified, most of which occurred before he was taken in by the Mandalorians. But now, sitting here with you in his arms, blood seeping through your shirt and staining the beskar as he holds you, he can’t help but feel gut wrenching dread. His heart skipped a beat when he watched you take the direct hit of a blaster. It stopped when the grenade sent you flying across the sand.

He’d turned on your attacker immediately, pointing his rifle. The other hunter hadn’t even had a chance to turn around before he was turned to dust. Din had looked at you then. Swore that you were already gone. His entire being had ached to run to you, but he knew that he was no good to you or the kid if he was dead.

“I’m gonna take you back to the ship. I’ll get you patched up as best I can. You’ll be alright,” he says. Even as the words leave his mouth though, he knows they’re not true. You’re practically limp in his arms already, and he can see the light beginning to leave your eyes. Even if he tries to get you back to the Razor Crest, you’ll be gone before he can get the loading ramp down. There is nothing he can do. And he hates it.

You force a smile for him. He knows what’s coming. You can’t see it on his face but you’ve learned how to read him in other ways. It’s in the way his helmet has dropped towards his chest. It’s in the way his voice shakes even through the modulator. He’s not tense has he holds you. It’s over.

“Take care of the little guy for me, okay? Find him another little planet like Sorgan so he can play. He deserves to just...b-be a kid for a while…” It’s getting harder to breathe. It takes more effort and concentration to keep the flow of air going.

He shakes his head, holding you as close to his chest as he can get you. “Don’t go, Y/N. Please. He needs you...and I do too,” he whispers. Tears fill his eyes at the words. He wishes that he would have said them to you sooner, under much kinder circumstances.

You take in a few shallow breaths before answering him. “You’ll both be al...alright.” You can feel what remains of your strength leaving you. Your eyes feel heavy. A chill overtakes you.

Keeping one arm around you, Din brings up his other hand, lifting his helmet. He doesn’t care now if it means that he can never put it back on. He wants you to see him, to really see him, if he has to lose you.

“No!,” you cry out, catching his arm and leaving a bloody handprint where you grab him. You won’t let him do this. You won’t let him lose his entire way of life for your sake. You’ve dreamed about the day that you might see his face. You’ve imagined what it might feel like to run your hands through his hair and feel his lips against yours. But you won’t let it happen this way. Even if it takes the last of your strength.

Din freezes. Lets his hand fall when he sees the tears that have gathered in your eyes. He won’t be the reason that you spend your last moments in sorrow.

“This isn’t the Way. You have...a l-life to live. You can’t… You can’t throw that away for me. Not h-here. Not now…,” you tell him, unable to stop the single tear that makes its way down your cheek. His touch is tender as he moves to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, still gloved in thick leather.

“I would do it for you,” he says. “We could have just left. Taken the kid somewhere they’d never find us and never looked back. I could have...I could have kept you safe…”

“We’ll have that life some day. But not for a long time. Promise me that I won’t see you again for a long, long time.” You’re practically begging him now. You need him to fight. You need him to live.

Din lowers his head to his chest, taking your hand in his and holding it to his heart. “I promise…”

Your smile returns. It’s weak, but it’s there. “And Din?”

He looks into your eyes once again. “Yes, Y/N?”

“I love you,” you breathe, bringing your other hand to the side of his helmet. You imagine that you’re cupping his cheek as your skin meets the cool beskar.

He brings his helmet to rest against your forehead. “I love you too, Y/N…” Your smile grows as you take in that last sight. Your Mandalorian, and all the stars in the sky above him. You feel that peace again. You let it envelop you and carry you away.

Din closes his eyes tightly as he feels your last breath leave you, as he feels your hand drop back into your lap. He lets the sobs wrack his body without inhibition. His whole being shakes as he hold you to him, both arms around you now.

A thought strikes him, and his tears cease for a moment. Holding you in his lap, he brings his hands up once more, removing the helmet to look upon your face with his own two eyes.

It’s different, seeing you this way, uninhibited by the helmet. He realizes then just how much the helmet hid your true beauty from him. It kills him that this is the way it has to happen. He would have run away with you and the kid. Hell, he would have gone to the ends of the galaxy to eliminate everything and everyone that posed a threat to you, and then married you. Made you his until the end of time. Raised a family with you. Grown old and died with you. The proper way, just like he knew you wanted.

But he can’t do that now. You’re gone and he can’t get you back. All he can do is let you see him this way. Your lifeless, unseeing eyes looking back up at him. He’s kept to his Creed. No living thing has seen him without the helmet.

He takes off his gloves, closing your eyes with a touch lighter than air, then cups both of your cheeks in his hands. He presses his lips to your forehead. His tears return in a silent wave.

“Goodbye, cyar’ika…”

Shadows- Chapter Two

*not my gif* I’m using a Javi one because the vibes match the chapter, sue me

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing (like a lot, I’m sorry), dark themes, attempted drugging, mentions of drugs and alcohol, canon-typical violence, death of a background character, mention of blood Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: yeah I’ve got no chill this week apparently

Chapter Two

A long five weeks pass without any major incidents. There were sightings around town of the mysterious Mandalorian, but everyone went out of their way to stay off his war path. He was busy, sticking his nose in many known crypto communities and businesses. The hunter leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. It was obvious he was getting information for someone, but no one had been able to locate an informant yet. With how accurate his targeting was the assumption was he had another crypto tipping him off, though others were skeptical. Who in the right mind would help a Mandalorian? Everyone was on edge; five weeks was too long for a lone wanderer to stick around and the longer he was in town the higher the risk there would be another run-in. The only upside to it all was that even after all this time he was still alone.

You went about work as close to normal as possible. Zachriel was still in the wind so whatever lead he could have given you was moot for now. There were plenty of other bounties to work, plenty of other criminals and scum to deal with. The jobs went smoothly but you could not help but look over your shoulder every step of the way. It was like you were expecting the Mandalorian to burst through the door again, try to kill you for doing your job. Even after five weeks the paranoia was still there. You were getting rather tired of it. Kira was too. She’d gone on about it all afternoon, saying your stress was stressing her out. Insisted you needed to relax. It had been weeks, you lived and worked in a large city, you did not need to worry about seeing the Mandalorian again. So, with cash in hand from a successful bounty Kira had convinced you to come out for a bit and unwind. Some greasy food and drinks in a mediocre pub was apparently the cure for what ailed you. It had been too long since you’d spent time together outside of work, so you agreed, sliding onto the barstool next to Kira at the waterfront pub.

“See? You don’t spontaneously combust when you take a break,” Kira jokes, bumping shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you flag down a bartender. “Just like you don’t spontaneously burst into flames when you come into work.”

“Rude. Not everyone is a workaholic like you,” the woman pouts. “Plus, I’ve got a niece to look after. Ally’s shop has been doing well so I get to babysit more.”

“That’s good to hear! I’m always saying I need to stop by more, get some flowers for the house.”

“Ally would love to see you, I’m sure. Kayla too. She misses her other aunties.”

“I miss the little angel too. I’ll have to come by next time you’re watching her.” You adored the little bundle of energy that was Kira’s niece. Going on five years old she was incredibly well behaved and beyond sharp. Kira credited her mixed bloodline, thinking Kayla carried more magic in her blood that her mother. Not that Ally didn’t have a little something, there was no way her success as a florist wasn’t in part due to her fey bloodline.

“You can take her instead-” Kira grins- “little squirt tiring you out might do you some good.”

“Not sure why you think wearing me out would be a good idea-” you pause as the grinning bartender approaches.

“What can I get you lovely ladies?”

You shiver as the man blatantly looks both of you over. Kira rolls her eyes at him before passing along your orders.

“This is why I hate going out.”

Kira makes a gagging face when the pasty man turns his back to you. “I can’t blame you there.”

Sighing you glance out over the growing pub crowd. It was still early in the evening; you were sure the place would fill up soon and you would rather finish up and go home before that happened.

There’s a strange prickle of familiarity as your gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered in the back corner by the pool tables. You look over the group again, picking out a broad-shouldered man with a mop of dark curls and neatly trimmed facial hair.

The universe had it out for you, didn’t it?

Kira picks up on your sudden tension, “what’s wrong?”

Spinning back around to the bar you bury your face in your hands. “Five o’clock. Heavy grey jacket, dark curls and facial hair.”

The blonde fakes a laugh, causally looking out over the crowd, “spotted him.”

“That’s the Mando from Lunar.”

“Well shit.” Kira turns back to you, “do you think he’ll recognize you?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth you nod. “If I can pick him out of a crowd my best guess is, he could do the same to me.” It was not as if you’d been wearing anything to disguise your identity when you’d gone to Lunar.

Kira groans.

“We need to leave. Neither of us are armed enough to deal with a Mandalorian.”

“We’ll attract too much attention,” Kira shakes her head. “Just keep your back turned. We’ll have our drinks and then we can leave.”

You were so screwed.

“It’ll be fine. He won’t attack us in public.”

Kira’s point is not all that reassuring. He’d shot at you feet from a crowded crypto-bar. Didn’t seem all that worried about it then either.

With perfectly awful timing the bartender returns, grin still plastered on his face. He passes you both your drinks with a wink, “enjoy ladies.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, absentmindedly passing him a few dollars in tip.

Swirling the drink in one hand you stare vacantly at the glass, no longer in the mood for alcohol. Kira gags at the retreating mans back again. You can’t help but give a halfhearted chuckle at her antics. She always was one to diffuse tense situations.

Kira goes to take a sip of her drink, a sharp acidic odor reaching you as she raises her glass to her lips. You nearly slam her hand down onto the bar top to stop her.

“What in the actual fuck?” She hisses at you.

Wordlessly you swirl her glass around, look for the source of the smell. The slight tinkling against the glass is barely noticeable above the din of the pub crowd.

The bartender was more than just a sleaze.

“There-” you swirl the glass around for her so she can see the last of the opaque orb dissolving into her drink- “succubus tears.”

Human date rape drugs were bad enough. Crypto drugs were beyond insidious in their effects. Was this what the Mandalorian was here about?

Kira’s lip curls into a snarl, “son of a bitch.”

“I’d heard there was something hanky going on in the neighborhood, but his face isn’t on any of the bounty lists.”

If looks could kill the bartender would be long dead from Kira’s piercing gaze. Not that she wouldn’t actually kill him with her bare hands without so much as a second thought. “I’m sure I’d remember his ugly mug if it was. Drugging patrons’ drinks, fucking monster in a target rich environment.”

.

He had been kicking around the pub for over an hour when Din began to doubt Karga’s information. There had been more than a handful of women who had come and gone at the bar with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Din wondered if Karga was just trying to get rid of some local competition. The police reports he’d supplied Din with were the only reason he stuck around. Six women had disappeared in the last three weeks, all of them had last been seen at the bar. The bartender on shift was a known narcotics dealer but the police had not been able to pin anything on him. Karga had suggested maybe he was using some sort of drug humans wouldn’t know how to look or test for. It was entirely possible. So, Din kept sipping at his beer, watching the crowd with his back to the wall.

A sudden movement at the far end of the counter caught his eye. The two women who had come in maybe ten or so minutes ago were talking rather hurriedly, leaning in with their gazes fixed on the bartender. Din perked up when the man noticed their stares. He could see the sweat forming on the man’s brow from his vantage point. Had these two caught him in the act?

Eyes glued to the floor the bartender skitters away to the back of the venue, Din moves to follow, only pausing when he notices the two women also rushing after him. The blonde has a piercing gaze that could kill, only confirming his theory. Din’s whole body tenses when he catches the profile of the second woman, the same cold look on her face as when she stared him down, sword in hand.

What was she doing here? What was she doing with his suspect? Again.

Karga had looked into her after the events at Lunar but had come up empty. He didn’t even have a name for the mysterious woman, just a series of security cam photos from outside the club every few months over the past few years. She was obviously doing business with the bar owner but Karga had been right, she left him with more questions than answers.

Din pauses for a moment before following the three into the back. He clears what appears to be a storeroom and the office before coming up on a busted loading dock door.

“You know all we wanted was the night off.”

Din inches through the dark dock, following the voices to the back alley.

“Then walk away, bitch!”

Crouching behind a pillar Din can make out most of the scene. The bartender stands next to a second, knife-wielding man with greasy grey hair. The mystery woman and her friend both have swords drawn and pissed off looks in their eyes.

“Slayers don’t walk away until the bounty’s dead. You should know that,” the blonde taunts.

Slayers? Bounties?

“You two are gonna’ be the dead ones!” the bartender shouts, pulling a handgun out of thin air, and aiming for the pair.

Din allows himself a moment of awe as the women spring into action. They’re well trained and comfortable with the weapons they wield. Swords were not Din’s preferred choice for a gunfight but the two were fast. Inhumanly fast. Although Din had yet to identify what species they were, he knew they were not human.

Despite the inherent disadvantage the blonde woman appeared to be fending off the bartender without too much sweat. His mystery woman on the other hand almost appeared to be toying with the accomplice. She had him cornered and disarmed; the corner of her lips ever so slightly quirked up.

“Last chance to surrender or I’m collecting the bounty on your corpse.”

.

They never surrender but you offer anyways. If you didn’t have to deal with a dead body, you’d gladly take it. The idea was particularly tempting considering you were not exactly prepared to dispose of a body right now.

The man snarls and gnashes his inhuman teeth at you, façade slipping off his visage. You’d take that as a ‘no’ on the surrender.

“I hate imps,” you mutter, lunging at the bounty. A gunshot echoes through the alley as your sword pierces the heart of your bounty.

“Shit!” Kira spits, her blade clattering on the pavement.

“Serves you right, bitch!”

You spin around to find the bartender aiming for Kira’s head, feral grin splitting across his face as she clutches a now-bleeding arm to her chest. No matter how fast you were, you couldn’t get to him before he pulled the trigger. What a great situation you two had unknowingly walked in on.

Every part of you freezes as another shot reverberates in the alley. It takes you a moment to process it wasn’t aimed at Kira.

The bartender stumbles back, hands scrambling to put pressure on the new hole in his leg. You track backwards to find the Mandalorian standing on the loading dock, smoking gun hanging loose in one hand.

“Fuck,” Kira notices him too, clumsily grabbing at her sword with one hand.

Before you can blink, you’re at her side, helping to put pressure on her upper arm. The wound doesn’t look life threatening but that doesn’t mean you want to wait around for blood loss to kick in. You need to get Kira back to the clinic.

“So, what, the Mando is gonna try and kill us now?” At least she’s lucid enough to have an attitude.

“Mando?” The bartender’s eyes go wide, “hell no.” And he was gone, his blood the on the pavement the only indicator he had occupied the space before you’d blinked. Damn handy dark magic.

Kira rolls her eyes, “coward.”

The Mandalorian scoffs, dark gaze still trained on the two of you.

“What?” you snap back. Two run-ins, you were beyond sick of this guy.

“Since when do you go around killing your own kind?” His gaze flickers back to the body behind you like he could not believe you’d skewered a man through the heart moments ago.

“First off, don’t lump us in with criminal’s-” you sneer- “two, it’s our job.”

You wish you could savor the look of pure confusion that passes over his features, but you are too tuned in to the way his grip tightens around his gun.

“You hunters think just because you know we exist, you know everything,” Kira snickers.

Shaking your head, you try to put yourself in between Kira and the armed man who had no qualms with shooting cryptos. This was not the time for Kira’s abrasive personality. “We’re not your enemy, Mandalorian. Slayers and hunter have essentially the same goal.” That was a bit of stretch but you couldn’t care less. The blood running down Kira’s arm was your first priority.

Kira scoffs, “nah, (Y/N), they kill indiscriminately- they’re the enemy.”

Mando quirks an eyebrow but does not make any move to shoot or approach.

“Kira, enough. We aren’t allowed to kill humas. That’s that.”

She rolls her eyes, “he’s tried to kill you twice. I think that counts.”

“He’s not trying to kill me right now-” you glance back at him- “right?”

The Mandalorian shrugs but slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Maybe this day wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

A Father’s Duty - Chapter 47

Read Here or on AO3

Chapter 47: The Mysterious Stranger

Series Summary: Have father/parent issues? Yeah? So do I. This is mostly for my own sanity, but i still hope people enjoy it. Each chapter is about 1k and a lil’ more. Mostly bc I have a short attention span and its easier to write that way for me.

You are a force sensitive being, trying to survive off of selling refined Kyber crystal. Though dealing with something so powerful has dangerous consequences. After narrowly escaping a deadly encounter, a certain bounty hunter is set in finding you.

Chapter Summary: The stranger is coming. They have made their declaration. Your head aches terribly figuring out what to do.

Word Count: 1569

A/N: As always the MC is gender neutral and written so anyone can insert themselves into the story. I can't believe I'm on chapter 47. What the hell am I gonna do when s2 comes out? Ideas???? Help???

You and your little brother were poking around the river, catching as much fish and shellfish as your brother could stomach. Perhaps his metabolism was infinitely quick as he had not stopped eating for nearly the entire time.

“Are you sure you're not gonna get sick, little brother?” You asked tentatively, prying open a stubborn clam.

The baby gurgled and babbled, his small hand grabbing at the food you pried from the shell. With a small smile, you placed it in his hand which he gobbled up in a few seconds. Once he had wiped all the remnants from his little green face, his hands reached out, expecting more.

“Kriffing hell, y'know what that's it, you've eaten more than I could in a millennia! I swear if you throw up I'm not gonna clean it up.”

You halfheartedly listened to the little one complain, watching as he stomped his tiny feet and tried in vain to undo the straps of your boots. Quickly you figured out a distraction that worked well as an exercise8 of sorts. Calmly, you raised small spheres of water from the river, hovering them around the baby and whenever he poked one, you burst the orbs into a gentle spray. When the baby's eyes widened, you turned around to see Paz with his arms quite full with numerous bundles and your father storming over.

“Buir! What did you- oof!”

At once you were lifted off the ground, the Mandalorian's grip under your armpits. His aura was full of pure confusion and a hint of fear.

“Din.” Paz warned, his voice stern.

For nearly a whole minute, he simply stood there holding you with your feet dangling over the ground. His breathing was deep but not labored as he stared right ahead. Unsure of what to do, you remained still, knowing he would never harm you.

“Did you know?” He breathed. “Do you know who he was?”

Your brow furrowed and you shifted about, but Mando's grip was vice-like, though it did not hurt.

“Who's 'he'?”

He paused, searching your face for anything readable. “Your father.”

“Pfft! You almost scared me!” Wriggling, you managed to break free, landing on the grass. “This some sort of joke? You're my father, or didja forget?”

The Mandalorian didn't move, seemingly taken aback at your answer.  You looked at him raising an eyebrow, but the bundles in Paz's arms soon stole your attention away. Your little brother followed behind, sparing Mando a quick glance, but like you was far more interested in the one warm bundle the other was holding.

“ThatsmellssogoodcanIhaveonenow?” Jumping up, you tried to snatch the package, only to have Paz Vizsla successfully fend you off with one hand, trying to maneuver about without stepping on the toddler who was trying to grab his feet.

“Kark, Djarin! I swear it's like you don't feed them enough!”

Your father still seemed to be far off in his own mind, so he simply shrugged.

The sweet meat filled buns were supposed to be a surprise, but neither Mandalorian had accounted for your acute smell. Still, they each let you have one on the hike back to the ship. No one really said anything much, save the baby who was babbling to himself, having finished his food swiftly. Paz seemed rather tired, but your father still had an air of foreboding about him. Walking mechanically with his head turned slightly down. Having some confidence in your abilities, you tried to reach out to him, but instead of Din Djarin's familiar aura, there was something else. Within second a searing hot sensation wrapped around the skin of your neck. Immediately you hand flew to pull the force away, only to find nothing physically there, nails scraping at flesh. No one else noticed your silent plight, all looking ahead and not behind.

Sh...Sh...Be still, and know that I am here.

Your eyes bulged recognizing the voice at once. Begrudgingly, you did your best to calm your mind and body, your muscles going somewhat slack but not by your own doing. For a brief moment, Mando turned to look at you, head tilting slightly to the side.

If you even finish that thought, I will slaughter him where he stands. Do you understand?

Heeding the incorporeal voice, you forced a smile on your face, more of a smirk than anything. A little mischief to ensure him that you're alright. He seemed satisfied enough and turned back around.

Good. Obedience will serve you well. How does it feel?

Taking a deep breath, you realized this was a connection that did not hold you in favor.

I know that voice. You were there on the ship. You hurt me again and again!

It was necessary. A small price for something with such great potential. Though it wasn't without issue. That idiot forgot to take in account the spontaneity of a child.

“Hey, kid? Are you okay?” Din asked. “You look...angry.”

“Huh? Oh...Yeah I'm just kinda tired.” You lied.

Excellent. You're doing so well. Though, the choice is no longer entirely yours I suppose. No...Even the blood in your veins will obey my every order.

You could feel bile start to build in your throat.

That...the ether. You had that put inside me, didn't you?!

Precisely. Now. You have been a bit of a kriffing problem for me as of late and it has...marred my mien. It would behoove you to simply do as I say.

Or what? Are you gonna kill me?

I shall do you one better. I will kill him.

Your eyes flew to your father.

And the little one.

There was the baby, nibbling on one of his fingers.

And the mighty one who thinks of you fondly.

No! Not them! Not Paz! You wouldn't! You cant.

Are you willing to test that little theory?

The Mandalorian Din Djarin had picked up the baby and was so gently patting him on the back, helping the tiny one burp properly. When he did, Paz let out a hearty laugh that warmed your heart.

No...No I don't.

Good. It would be incredibly selfish for you to put your own needs before that of those who have taken pity on you.

I...Please...What in the kriffing hell do you want?

It is what I am taking back, young apprentice. It is what you are made for. Know that I am near, and  our rising will be glorious.

***___***___***

The Mandalorian Din Djarin placed young Beviin down on their little bed, slipping off their spaulder and boots, placing then neatly at the bottom of the cot. Their breathing was heavy, each one desperate in a way. With caution, he removed  a glove, placing two fingers where Beviin's brow was deeply furrowed. Such extreme tension for one so young, how that was possible, Din had more than a few ideas. They had been almost joyful in the last few moments of their time on Stewjon. He had nearly been just the same.

His child did not know. They were perfectly unaware of the man that had both sired and left them alone many years ago. What had been so utterly dire that a man would leave both his loved one and child? But who was he to act as both judge and jury. Din had now become quite familiar with the look of fear his eldest would often adopt in moments of extreme tension. And he recognized that look as they walked back to the ship, their face contorted, eyes alarmingly wide. Their gaze had been fixed solely on the ground, but no common signs of their earlier...episodes.

“...Bu....”

Jerking awkwardly, Din whipped his head around to find the source of the noise, only to see the baby tugging at his boot. Letting his guard down, he scooped the baby up in his arms, still amazed at how tiny he really was. Hell, on the floor, the child was just a bit smaller than his footwear!

With those pointy claws, the baby poked at his Beskar. The dim lighting allowed for the child to see his own reflection in the armor, just distorted somewhat. An adorable little grin spread across his face as he moved about, seeing in what other ways he could make his reflection look. All was well until the baby started to lick the kriffing Beskar.

“Hey! Stop it !” The Mandalorian hissed, pulling the baby away from his chest with both hands. “Krif... I haven't even cleaned it for the day...”

The baby smiled. “B...buh...”

Din Djarin pointed at his kid, “You better not get sick. You make your buir worry, y'know that?”

His son cooed, letting his body sink into Din's steady grasp.

“Alright, c'mon I guess we'll go get some sleep, A'dika.”

As he walked out of the room with his son drifting off, he looked back at his other beloved child to see them toss and turn in their slumber. Not far off, Paz sat polishing his weapons with respectable reverence. While that man could easily make Din's blood boil, he could be trusted.

“Paz.” The other turned, interested at the out of place initiation. “I...May I ask you to watch over Beviin?”

“Of course.” He answered, drawing himself upright. “You need only ask.”

Din paused a mere second before nodding and retreating to his quarters.

A/N: Request from anon. Oh yes, I had so much fun writing this. 3:)

Words: 3066 Warnings: smut, bondage, sub!Loki/dom!Loki

Loki breathed in the cold winter air as he strolled through one of the countless Christmas markets, inhaling the scent of mulled wine, eggnog, cookies and cinnamon. Disguised as a ginger man with beard, glasses and a black coat, he eyed the many little trinkets the mortals tried to sell. Some of them, handcrafted, he had to admit, were rather impressive.

It had been months since his grandiose escape from SHIELD and the Avengers—and he had been hiding on the planet ever since, among the very people he had once attempted to rule. Perhaps Midgard was not so bad after all. During the festive season, so he had learned, people tended to at least try and be kinder to one another, the delicious meals and Christmas treats, however, were what intrigued him the most about the merriest time of the year.

“Oh, so sorry!” The woman who bumped into him giggled, never taking her eyes off of her lover whom she was clutching like a child would a soft plush toy. Loki sighed when her partner leaned down to kiss her passionately and they disappeared around the corner of the Christmas market. This was the third couple he had run into today… and he could not help but feel… lonely. If Christmas was a time for love, friendship and family, then why was he still alone? He almost snorted. It was not much different from home, now was it? Thor got all the attention and ever since Frigga’s death, who was left for him to love him dearly without any judgement and grudges? There was no one.

Besides, it had been a while since he had had the warm body of a young woman all to himself, appreciating her curves and her sex… He should make this his next priority. It could not be too hard to find a willing woman, after all.

Mumbling an apology, you pushed past an elderly man wearing a red and gold Christmas jumper, eyes fixed on the ginger man a few feet away from you. His disguise was downright impressive, you had to focus hard to see through the illusion he had cast on himself—but it was him, without a doubt.

When they had asked you to find Loki and return with his head on a silver platter, how could you have declined? The Asgardian was wanted on several planets, not just Midgard and the amount of money they had promised you… it would be enough to buy yourself a fancy little house in Central London and live in clover. There was no space for qualm in your life.

Moving quickly, you followed Loki through the crowd, determined to catch him today. You had been watching him for a whole week already, studying his behaviour and motives to not be caught off guard when attacking. You had it all planned out; and you were confident that you would succeed.

Loki’s superhuman reflexes got the better of him when the woman before him suddenly slipped on her ridiculously high heels, a lame excuse for winter boots. He caught her before she could collide with the frozen ground, wrapping an arm around her waist firmly. You breathed out triumphantly. Sometimes the simplest of strategies worked best.

“T-thank you,” you breathed out, looking up at your saviour with widened eyes. Damn. Up close, he was even more handsome. The illusion around him flickered, switching between his mortal disguise and his usual self—raven hair, glasses, blue eyes, ginger beard… you blinked. Focus.

“Perhaps you should pay closer attention to where you are going.”

Suppressing a smile when he released you again, you nodded as if you agreed. Oh, I was watching where I was going, Loki. Don’t you worry.

“Sorry about that. I am new in town, I decided it might be a good idea to try a change of scenery before Christmas. I guess I got a little carried away with… exploring the area.”

“You came alone?” He dug. There he went and took the bait.

“I am… I was hoping to meet some people, make new friends, new… acquaintances.”

Loki smirked. Could it be? Was the first woman who practically fell into his arms the one he would take sexual pleasure and satisfaction from tonight? Something… did not quite feel right; and his gut feeling was usually right. Still, just this once, he elected to ignore it. It was only sex, after all. One passionate night full of lust, desire and countless orgasms. Tomorrow morning, he would be gone again already and never see this innocent mortal again.

“You know… my hotel is not far from here. I would love to… get to know you a little better, Mr…”

“Hiddleston.”

“Mr Hiddleston. Would you like to accompany me on my way back?” You asked, playing with your hair innocently. It was almost too easy.

“This is a rather luxurious hotel room. You must be among the wealthy.”

Raising an eyebrow, you slid off your winter coat. If you didn’t know who he was already, now would be the time to get suspicious.

“That is a very odd thing to say, you know.”

Loki glared.

“Is it?”

He barely let you take off your boots before he had approached you, pressing his muscly chest against your back. His arms sneaked around your waist, pulling you close all the while his lips began planting soft kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Take your clothes off,” he whispered demandingly, earning him a low chuckle on your behalf.

“I will. But you go first. I think you will like what I would like to try.”

Loki tilted his head. He did not want to admit it but he was intrigued, his member clearly excited about the prosperity of sheathing himself inside a tight woman so soon… so he did you the favour. Resisting the urge to simply snap his fingers and remove his clothing by magic, he began to strip for you, slowly tearing off each and every piece of fabric until he revealed a tall, rather pale and well-defined body… and a rock-hard, aching length screaming for attention. Combined with his raven hair—you could see through his illusion clearly now—and those stinging blue eyes… he was gorgeous. It was almost a shame you had not come here to actually fuck him.

“Lie down on the bed.” You commanded softly, licking your lips as you eyed him up and down. Loki smirked and obliged, never taking his gaze off of you.

You smiled. You had him right where you wanted him. You had to act quickly now. Quickly, seductively and convincingly. Approaching the bed yourself, you opened one of the drawers of the nightstand and pulled out a velvety red rope. No regular bondage rope, of course. This kind of rope would block most of Loki’s magic and weaken his strength. It would give you enough time to prepare your dagger and kill him before he found a way to break free again.

“I want to tie you up… is that alright? I promise you will like it.” You teased, wiggling your eyebrows in the process. Loki only threw his head back and laughed heartily. Naturally, he did not expect the rope to be of magical heritage as well.

“By all means…” He replied sneakily.

Grinning, you got to work, wrapping it around his wrists firmly before attaching the loose ends to the bedposts. Loki’s hungry glance up to your still clothed form sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine. Oh, under different circumstances, you definitely wouldn’t say no to him…

“And now what, little minx?” He purred darkly.

“Now?” Calmly, you reached for your dagger hidden in the other drawer. “Now it’s time to say goodbye, Loki.”

Within the fraction of a second, his face fell.

“What?” He breathed. Then, he began struggling against the restraints.

“Don’t bother. They block your strength. I wish I could be sorry. But have you got any idea how much money your head is worth? I would be rich.”

“Hmm, well I can ensure you, I am much more of use alive.” He spat. “Who are you?” He was going to die anytime now. You might as well tell him who was going to murder him.

“My name is (Y/N). I am a professional bounty hunter and I work with SHIELD and other secret organisations all over the world. I’ve been watching you for a whole week already.”

Loki scoffed.

“I knew there was something wrong with you… you should feel honoured, my dear. I decided you were alluring enough for me to join you despite the warning signs.”

“Curiosity kills the cat.” You shrugged.

“Cats have nine lives.” He retorted smugly. Then, he paused, seemingly interested. “Just answer me one question… how? How did you know?”

Oddly enough, Loki did not seem anxious about his fate at all, almost as if he expected you to change your mind and not kill him after all. Arrogant bastard. Arrogant and attractive bastard.

“I can see through illusions and magic.” You replied. “And before you ask, no, I don’t know how. I just… can. Ever since I was a child.”

“I see… do you usually seduce your victims before you slice their throats or am I receiving a special treatment?”

“I seduce the handsome ones.” You confessed with a sly smile, testing the sharpness of your dagger as you spoke.

Loki smirked. You did find him attractive then. This was vital knowledge you had just provided him with. Perhaps… perhaps the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless. Nothing he couldn’t talk himself out of. After all, he was the God of Mischief…

“Well then, how about a… proposal?”

“I don’t negotiate with my victims.”

Loki’s smirk widened. “Am I? Am I one of your victims? Surely, you did not have to strip me naked first and tie me up to end my life.”

“No. Having you on display like this is a nice bonus to look at though.”

“Oh, that I believe you. Are you not tempted? I could bring you pleasure you can only dream of. By the end of this night, you would be screaming my name and praise me as your god.” He growled seductively. His member twitched upon his own words, begging to be attended to. Of course you were tempted. Loki was massive, much longer than average and… was he leaking pre-cum already? How breath-taking would it feel to have him deep inside you, you wondered?

Swallowing thickly, you tore your gaze away from his cock, meeting the outright mocking expression on his face again.

“If I can make you cum for me… you let me go.”

Your jaw dropped. He was bold.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead-serious, my dear…”

Were you… mental for considering this? Wasn’t the point of using him for your own pleasure to have an earth-shaking orgasm? But then again… Loki’s arrogance was nerve-wrecking. He was either too confident and might not manage to make you climax in the first place or he was lying and wanted to have sex himself before dying. You had nothing to lose… not really.

Sighing, you put your dagger away.

“Fine. You can try.” You challenged him.

“Well then… untie me.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Oh, you will be, little minx.”

You snorted.

“No. The restraints stay on.”

Once again, the God of Mischief smirked.

“Very well... I will not need my hands. Bare yourself for me.” He commanded with a stern voice and you, smitten by this sudden change of priorities, obeyed. Your hands were shaking when you got rid of your trousers and knickers, followed suit by your pullover and lastly, your bra.

You had to admit… you rather enjoyed Loki’s greedy blue eyes resting on every inch of your exposed skin.

“Sit on my face.” He ordered.

“What?!”

“I do not like to repeat myself. Sit on my face, little minx.”

Biting your lower lip to hold back another attempt to protest, you did as you were told. This… this was way too intimate. Never before had you presented yourself like this to a man, let alone a god you were supposed to kill and collect your bounty for; and yet, when you lowered your pussy onto his luscious lips slowly, arousal rippled through you like electricity. You swallowed. If he were to get dangerously close to making you cum… you would simply pull away, right?

A moan escaped your lips when Loki’s tongue darted out to taste you, immediately attacking your clit with firm and teasing strokes. Growling triumphantly, he dipped it into your opening, collecting the slick juices pouring out of you uncontrollably. Your body was enjoying this way too much. You forced your eyes shut to focus when you started bucking your hips, panting loudly when he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started to suck on it so fiercely you tumbled towards climax at light speed. He had to stop. He had to stop right now.

Panicking, you attempted to climb off of him—only your thighs and feet would not budge an inch. Loki chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his voice against your petals making you tremble.

“The quality of your restraints is highly questionable, little minx.” He purred against your glistening pussy lips. His cool breath brushed against them as he spoke, making you shiver. Shit. How was this even possible? The rope was supposed to block his magic, not enhance it! You had thought this through! You had to… get away… from him…

A scream escaped your lips when you came all over his face, gushing and contracting around his tongue when he buried it in your core as deep as he possibly could to leap up all you had to offer. Your orgasm cursed through you like liquid gold. You were helpless—helpless against the numbing bliss relaxing your entire body until you had come down from your high, your clit now too sensitive for any more stimulation.

But Loki didn’t stop. He kept going, eating you so ferociously you whimpered. Again and again, his silvertongue flicked over your slit and tortured nub until he had turned you into a whining and sweating mess on top of him and only when he had coaxed two more orgasms from you did he finally lift his magic so you collapsed on the bed.

Unbeknownst to you, he had long freed himself from the rope and now gently but demandingly wrapped his strong arms around your waist, caressing your skin and creating goose bumps all over your body. His hard cock poked against your thighs as he pressed you close against him, promising endless pleasure you would never want to end.

Even if you did not keep your word now and attempted to harm him, regardless of your current, dishevelled and weakened state, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Loki would overpower you within a mere second. As of now, you knew exactly what he wanted from you and strangely, or perhaps it was not surprising at all, you were not going to deny him. He smirked against your neck.

“Now… let us make proper use of those restraints, shall we?”

Ignoring your widening eyes, he snatched your wrists to tie them together, securing them to the bedpost tightly. You wriggled around when his long fingers ghosted over your breasts and sides, breathing in sharply.

“Hmm… it has been so long.” He murmured, licking his lips in joyful anticipation. He could still taste you—you were downright delicious.

“L-Loki…” You mumbled desperately. “Be gentle with me…” Gone were your confidence and quick-wittedness. Loki had not lied to you. You were crazy for him already, utterly at his mercy. How, for Heaven’s sake, could you have assumed you would be strong and skilled enough to take down an actual Norse god?

Chuckling once more, the Trickster lightly stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. His tender touches soothed you.

“Can I make any promises after what you intended to do to me, my dear?” He breathed, causing your heartbeat to quicken. He growled lowly as he forced himself between your legs, spreading you to his liking. Your pussy clenched when your eyes fell on his leaking erection. You wanted this as much as he did—and right now, you didn’t even know what scared you more: the fact that he would most likely take revenge and kill you instead after this dangerous game you were playing or the fact you did not even try to resist. You did not want to.

You wanted to feel him inside of you, you wanted him to fill you—

“Ah!” You gasped when Loki aligned his cock with your dripping entrance and pushed into you, sliding in effortlessly thanks to your own arousal and the amazing orgasms he had given you.

The God of Mischief groaned as you tightened around him, unwilling to let him go again. Frantically and mad from lust, he began to move, pulling out almost completely only to plunge himself back inside of you hard; and without a doubt, he fucked you like you had never been fucked before.

“That’s right, little minx… surrender to me… surrender to the pleasure I am giving you…”

Thrusting into you repeatedly, he seemed to know exactly how to move to drive you crazy, hitting all of your hidden pleasure spots as he toyed with your breasts hungrily, pinching and rolling your hard nipples between his fingers until you came another time, clenching and pulsating around his cock.

An animalistic growl escaped Loki’s lips when he felt your orgasm. It did not take him long to follow you. You felt too good…

He moaned loudly, spilling himself inside you and rocking into you a few more times before he stilled, not bothering to pull out. You would feel him seeping out of you soon enough—and he was certain you could already feel how he had filled you up and marked you as his. Still, your words surprised him.

“That was… amazing.” You whispered out of breath, eyes falling shut. Smiling smugly, Loki got rid of the dagger next to you both, pulling you into his arms. You were going to be so much fun.

Yes… Midgard wasn’t so bad after all. He would make sure you spent Christmas with him.

A/N: Guys, YOU can help me publish my first novel! It’s easy, it’s anonymous, you can do it from all over the world and it’s just 3€! Your help counts too, I’d appreciate it so much if you helped me fulfil my dream! ♥ ko-fi.com/sserpente

The Rebel Queen (v)

Chapter Five: Severance

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | A03

Words:  | Warnings: More ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer…

A/N: Ahhh! The Mandalorian’s trailer dropped and I’m... Whew! On a separate note, here is a post that links to causes to help aid Brazil Indigenous tribes and here is an article that talks about what is happening and other causes you may want to check out.

Taglist is open

Epilogue | About Thesmora

Takodana...

The ship had descended upon a blanket of clouds, dispersing them like puffs of smoke. The drone of the engine was so loud it constantly kept the entire metal hull vibrating like a sinister, predatory animal waiting to pounce.

With a single push of a button, a plasma charge as bright as a falling star was fired from the ship's cannon, devouring a clearing of woods where a Resistance ship was parked. Then a shadow befell the land as a quiet hush crept over the ship while the canon’s recharged.

Versengen could feel a waring energy rage beneath his feet. Tunnelling far beneath the ship and the air, all the way down, to the green grass below. There was a familiarity to it, like a thousand needle pricks to his back. He knew he was here. He could feel him. Mokk-Toh was so close that his presence turned the air inside his pressurised ship acidic.

Versengen's scorched face stung like it was a new wound. The burning beneath his flesh was uncomfortable, triggering past memories and past trauma's until his entire body seemed to be on fire with invisible flames.

Anger rose like bile to burn at his uvula. The taste was bitter and primal. A metaphysical ignition inside his belly turned his blood into kerosene and his nerves into kindling. He was burning from the inside out like he had swallowed a thousand suns whole and left them to incinerate whatever remained of the man he was before the helmet and armour. Whoever that was mattered not anymore. He was and always would be Versengen. And it was time to do what Versengen did best.

Immolate.

His ship touched down with no grace. The entire mechanical beast growling like a starved animal. Light bled into his dark compartment, flooding it with white as the doors peeled back.

Versengen stood ready. Teeth grinding. Jaw locked. Muscles tense. Mokk-Toh would not get away from him this time. This he swore.

He stepped into the light and spoke for the first time since their last encounter, “I told you, I’d find you... And look...” he tilted his head as far as his restrictive armour would let him. “You’ve got friends.” Versengen laughed, finding humour in what he was about to say next, his vocal cords too damaged to make his laugh sound natural anymore. “Hello… Calista. You look so much like your father..."

Calista furrowed her brows in confusion and Versengen noticed how quickly Mokk-Toh and the little Knight-Captain beside him clenched in anticipation for a fight. One defensive hand brandishing an unsheathed sword. The other brushing against the hilt of a concealed blade while the rest sought after their crude blasters strapped to their thighs.

This is going to be fun.

 The bounty hunter encroaching towards them was frightening in the way he held himself. Six to one and yet he still spoke with a confidence to his menacing voice. Calista had always thought Mokk-Toh and Koa to be indestructible, but now, faced with such a mangled presence, she felt unsure whether that age-old belief would hold up against such an unhinged foe. His armour alone was soldered together in a cacophony of strife. One of his arms looked to have belonged to a Death Trooper. That alone was cause for concern.

Mokk-Toh spoke without ever removing his eyes from Versengen, “Get to the ship.”

Calista peered to try and catch a glimpse of his face, “What about you? You aren’t healed yet.”

“Go, princess.”

Those words grabbed Poe’s attention, but Calista ignored his confused gaze. “Not without you. I just got you back.”

A commotion began to grow by the entrance to Maz’s castle. Several bounty hunters and mercenaries glanced down at their datapads and various other communications devices. Soon Calista and the very distraught Resistance soldiers would have more to contend with than just Versengen alone.

“Where ever your ship is, I say we make haste,” Poe offered as he unholstered his blaster. “Now.” He urged when more of Takodana’s less-than-desirable’s poured out of the large structure.

Paige, Poe and Zeeke started glancing from one side where Versengen’s ship was obstructing the path to the other side where a line of angry mercs were filing up. Everyone was jittery, like cornered animals. Zeeke and Poe held themselves together while under pressure, but Paige seemed to be having a hard time keeping her footing steady.

“Poe, get Calista out of here,” Koa said sternly. Her face growing cold and serious as she pushed forward. “Mokk-Toh and I will hold them off until you get to the ship.”

“Koa—“ Calista was about to protest, her stubbornness forcing her to stand her ground but Poe had already wrapped a hand around her arm, pulling her closer to the dense brush of trees.

“Zeeke, Paige!” He shouted after his teammates. “Into the trees, we’ll lose them in there.”

Koa unsheathed her viro-blade and it came to life in a bright yellow hue, her back facing Mokk-Toh’s as she stared down the advancing troop of enemies.

Calista struggled against Poe’s grip, she wanted to stand and fight beside Koa and Mokk-Toh. But when had she ever gotten what she wanted? Begrudgingly, she yanked her arm free, but before Poe could protest, she kept following them into the dense woods and through the black smoke. Her hand cramping into a fist.

With one last look behind her, Calista prayed. Stay alive.

Koa held her ground. Fighting off any and all mercenaries that dared chase after her princess. Her blade strokes were swift, sure and lethal. Slicing at the air until her blade whistled viciously. The hum of the plasma charge crackled like static whenever it came in contact with armour plating.

Mokk-Toh was not having as nearly an easy time as Koa. His stance was poor, faltering, and his arm would shake whenever it clashed with Versengen’s own sword.

Through the corner of her eye, Koa made sure to monitor Mokk-Toh’s situation. All the while, she couldn’t shake this eerie feeling swirling in her gut. It was like she knew that bounty hunter in the stitched-together suit of armour. More accurately, it was as though he and Mokk-Toh had an intimate knowledge of the other. Their battle movements were identical, like watching a man take on his reflection. Even Versengen’s sword was similar and, if not for the burn damage, it probably would be a perfect replica. Everything about their skirmish didn’t sit right with Koa. But now wasn’t the time to inquire about such matters. Now was the time to focus on survival.

Another hoard of mercenaries advanced from a flanking position, knocking her onto the ground and allowing a handful of stragglers to get past her defensive perimeter and head into the woods. Koa bit back swears as she used her sword as an anchor to get her back onto her feet.

Just as her spine stretched upwards, a hot streak missed her cheek by a centimetre or so, burning through a small loose braid and severing her hair. She weaved to the side, ducking away from any more oncoming blaster rounds, but a grunt from behind her drew her attention.

Mokk-Toh was brought to his knees as a circlet of singed clothing and flesh appeared instantly below his right rib cage. Koa thought for sure Versengen would use Mokk-Toh’s new state of injury to his advantage, but instead, he craned his neck over to the man who had his finger on the trigger and a shaky growl left his helmet. After a moment of unsettling silence, he then did the strangest thing. He steeled his blade and advanced towards the line of mercenaries and bounty hunters Koa had been fighting and took them on with great ferocity.

Koa rushed to Mokk-Toh’s side while Versengen ripped the mercenaries apart. His rage so pure and unbridled that she almost felt too scared to look at the onslaught –it was all screams and incendiary grenades.

“No one kills him but me!” Versengen growled as he practically ripped someone in half.

“Can you stand?” Koa asked as she scurried to Mokk-Toh’s side, slinking her arm around his heavy frame to act as his anchor. A whirring in the distance alerted her to the Somnambulist growing airborne.

Mokk-Toh took in a deep breath, sweat covering his brow and dripping to his knees, “I can try.” He croaked out. He tried to rise to his feet, but his knees buckled and he took Koa back down with him. “Arrghhh!” an unnatural sound emanated from his left arm.

A ball of flame erupted in her peripheral and out strode Versengen, new blood sprays on his armour and sections of its metal frame ripped apart by blaster fire.

“Stay down,” Koa whispered to Mokk-Toh, his arm slipping from hers as he failed to clamp his fingers around her wrist tight enough.

Versengen gave her wide birth, “Move.”

“You want him?” she picked up Mokk-Toh’s sword off the ground with her free hand. “You’ll have to go through me.”

“Move aside. I won’t ask again.”

“And I’m not moving.”

Versengen sighed but still reached for his sword, unsheathing it once more. “Then you will die.”

Mokk-Toh strained to speak but all Koa could hear was his pained gasps and wheezing breath. She needed to hold fast until Calista and Odhen pulled through.

Versengen’s approach was slow, at first. Then his pace picked up into a sprint. With the sound of metal clashing against metal, and sparks of energy crackling against metal, Koa and Versengen were locked in battle. Nowhere near evenly matched, Koa staggered and slid about, constantly getting knocked off her feet or thrown to the ground. Her arms were shaking, just as Mokk-Toh’s had been earlier. And now her brow was the one covered in sweat.

Versengen fought like a beast. Yet, there was some grace to his fluidity. A sliver of order to his chaos. His fighting style resembled that of her homeworld’s mountain tribe’s. It felt wrong to fight against such ancient technique. Like fighting an elder. It still bothered her that much of him felt… familiar.

Koa parried and blocked, but he was too overpowered and most of his attacks broke through her defences. With a painful kick to her stomach, Versengen pushed her away so he could slice clean through her bone in a lightning-quick motion. A sickening howl left her lips as pain nearly paralysed her. Her body falling back onto the soft grass limply.

“No!” Mokk-Toh protested as he crawled towards her bleeding body.

“I warned you,” Versengen sneered and his shadow covered half of Koa’s face. Her eyes were fluttering in an internal battle to stay awake as tears streamed from her honey-coloured eyes. Wrapping both his hands around his sword's hilt, he lifted the sword high in the air, the final killing blow dangling over Koa’s heart like a guillotine waiting to be set loose.

With struggling breaths, Koa stretched out her right hand, fingers wiggling close to the sword’s hilt a few inches away. Almost in reach and yet… it was simply too far.

Red –sizzling, hot and fast– streaked through the dense brown and green of the shady thicket. Plasma rounds hailing like sideways falling rain, cutting through tree-trunks and branches and leaves.

Paige was swift on her feet, darting in front of them as she pushed dense leaves out of her way. Between each interval of red rain, Calista would glance over her shoulder every now and again, letting off a round of shots after she took cover behind a thick trunk. Zeeke was light and agile on his feet too. Tucking and rolling when necessary and shouting after Paige so she wouldn’t go too far ahead.

They took a quick moment of respite behind a line of trees, the smoke was much thinner this far in. Poe was grateful, it meant his eyes would no longer sting and his lungs wouldn’t feel like they were on fire. Calista took cover to his left while Zeeke and Paige were to his right.

“How much farther?” Poe asked between shallow breaths.

“Not far, it’s just beyond that treeline over there,” Calista nudged her head past Zeeke and Paige.

A few more shots glided through the air, flinging splinters into Calista’s eye. A drop of blood spilt from the apex of her eyelid and meandered down like a scarlet teardrop. She wiped it off as though timber hadn’t just scratched the side of her eyeball. She appeared numb to the world in that moment –dazed.

Calista pulled out her blaster and called after Zeeke, “Hold onto this for me,” she said as she tossed the light weapon his way.

Zeeke’s nimble fingers caught it easily, hands bracing it like a trained professional.

“Where are you going?” Poe asked as another hail of rounds made him crane his neck back to save his nose from getting an impromptu nose job.

“Sneaking around. Do you have any charges?”

Poe checked his belt and frowned when he pulled out two measly ion pulse grenades. He held them out to her, “I should go with you. Wouldn’t do me any good if you wound up hurt… or worse.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t whole, “Keep your people safe, Poe. I’ll worry about myself.” She peered over the large block of timber she was leaning against to get a better view. More plasma rounds drilled through wooden surfaces. She hissed in disappointment and then turned to Poe with a half-cocked smirk, “Maybe a little cover fire wouldn’t hurt?”

Poe nodded and turned to his right, “On my mark,” he held up three fingers and silently counted down. Once he hit one, Paige and Zeeke opened fire. Calista dashed into the dense forestry and was lost from his sights almost instantly. Poe prayed he hadn’t just made a mistake.

 Paige was trying hard to keep her aim steady and her breathing focused. Zeeke, on the other hand, was still soldiering on. Poe wondered what had happened in his life to make him so desensitised to such displays of violence. An explosion sounded out in the air, but there was no fire, no smoke and no blinding flash of light. Instead, a cushion of atoms rushed through the epicentre of the point of impact and rippled outward with tremendous force, nearly knocking him back and causing several branches to lean outwards.

Calista had set off the grenades. Wherever she was. Now they had a chance to make a break for the treeline and board the ship.

“Head for the treeline,” Poe ordered Zeeke and Paige.

“What about you?” Paige asked with a shaky voice.

“I’ll wait a few seconds then follow you guys, lay down cover fire if I need to.”

Zeeke nodded and held out his hand for Paige, she stalled for a second, shooting Poe a worried look before she accepted his direction and took Zeeke’s hand.

Poe counted the seconds until they turned to a near minute. He flirted with the idea of waiting one more second, one more minute, longer but he couldn’t. He left his spot behind the tree and made haste towards the ship. Relief flooded his system when Calista burst through one of his blind-spots and jogged beside him.

“Did I worry you?” she asked.

Poe wiped his smirk away with a simple, “Hardly.”

They embarked on the ship swiftly. Poe was in awe of how such an old rust-bucket was able to fly with little resistance.

The ship glided low, almost close enough to the canopies to touch. It took immense skill to keep such a heavy ship low without much turbulence shaking them about.

The bay doors were left open and wind washed through the cargo bay area. Paige was holding onto a sheet of tarp wrapped around several crates to keep her body steady. Zeeke mimicked Poe and Calista held onto a low handing pipe on the ceiling.

A shrill scream found its way to his ears and Calista gasped in shock when she saw Koa laying on the ground, Versengen’s sword mere inches from plunging into her heart, her left arm severed from the elbow in a clean, precise cut. The green of the grass beneath her body was slowly staining a dark red.

A squeaking wheel stopped short of the edge of the open door, the Jawa from before had wheeled a half bodied droid close to Poe’s leg.

“You may want to take a step back,” the droid said courteously before he pulled the trigger of the rocket launcher strapped to his shoulder. The rocket flew down in a spinning motion, hitting Versengen’s shoulder plate and sending him hurtling through the air. Dirt was raised into the air by the action and Mokk-Toh crawled to shield Koa from the violent winds that grew stronger the lower the Somnambulist descended.

Calista jumped off the ship before it landed, racing past the clearing to get to her people. Zeeke darted after her, using his strength to hoist up the taller, slimmer man over his small shoulders once he got to him. Poe ran to help them and called for Paige to follow.

Versengen’s body began to stir, he was still alive. Poe reached around to pick up Koa hastily while Zeeke and Paige half-dragged, half-carried Mokk-Toh back to the ship at a sluggish pace. Calista saw the bounty hunter rise up and crawl towards them and she instinctively grabbed Poe and Zeeke’s blasters, firing off shot after shot as she backtracked to the ship. Versengen didn’t have the strength to dodge so he simply took each hit, slowing his movements with every blast.

The Jawa fixed another rocket to his droid’s shoulder launcher and waited until they were all safely inside the ship before he fired. Versengen was already aiming at their ship when the second explosion blew him clear of the Somnambulist, his body disappearing into the dark cover of the trees.

Poe closed his eyes for a moment before making his way to the med bay. Artificial light lit the way as the doors finally closed and the ship pressurised. Calista, Zeeke, Paige and the Jawa in tow. A stream of blood mapping their way while Koa groaned in pain around his chest.

The heavy sound of flesh sagging down onto the medical gurney in the med bay was disconcerting. Koa’s teeth bared down, molar to molar, canine to canine. Calista had stayed by her side, holding her hand. White knuckle in white knuckle from the death grip Koa had on Calista’s soft flesh. Red marks forming in the shape of long fingers on their palms.

“Does anyone have medical training?” Poe asked with wide eyes. His brown jacket slick with blood. He shrugged it off and made a mental note to get it cleaned later.

The Jawa uttered something in quick succession, his arms banging against the legless droid’s head.

“I am versed in several basic medical procedures. I can cauterise the wound to keep her from bleeding out. If we put her under, she should survive the journey to your base of operations. My master requires the co-ordinates,” the droid said like it was a regular afternoon. His pleasantly programed vibrato annoyed Poe, but he tried his best not to dislike the helpful droid for something he was programmed with.

Paige’s face turned white as a sheet of paper, “Cauterise the woun—“

“Do it,” Calista said stoically, her expression unreadable.

Poe handed the Jawa his data-pad displaying the co-ordinates and the droid was lugged onto a higher surface so he could reach the would-be stump where Koa’s arm used to be. A plasma torch ignited in the droid’s steady hand. Koa turned to glance at Calista’s foggy eyes, her face a portrait of despair.

Paige whimpered, struggling to keep her eyes small and serious. The involuntary action forced her to place her hand over her face to stifle her sounds.

Zeeke held his breath.

“I’m going to cauterise the wound now,” the droid informed the two distressed women.

Koa’s bottom lip started to tremble, but her cries were inaudible –mute.

“I won’t leave your side. I’m right here,” Calista nodded, smoothing the hairs away from Koa’s sweaty face with clammy hands. She leaned close and whispered over and over again: “It’s going to be okay.”

The smell of burning flesh carried with it a harrowing feeling of nauseating sickness. Koa’s screams followed next. They were so shrill and sharp that Poe actually feared she’d sever her vocal cords if she kept screaming herself hoarse.

Poe’s stomach turned inside out from the smell and he had to dig his blunt nails into his palm as hard as he could to try and distract himself. Paige wasn’t as controlled as the rest of the room. That was the final straw. Her face contorted from a look of horror into one of disgust as she sprinted out of the room.  

When the screaming stopped, Koa’s head slumped lifelessly to the side. A deep exhale slipping between her clenched teeth, one of which had cracked from the pressure. Shaky breaths were traded in for held back sobs. Calista was still chanting her promises that everything would be fine while her legs buckled and her knees hit the floor. Her hand still holding onto Koa’s.

Mokk-Toh limped towards Calista, a consoling hand placed on the crown of her shaking spine.

“It’s going to be okay…” her voice barely managed to choke out.

Zeeke helped the droid down into his red trolley and dragged him as quietly as he could out of the room.

Poe couldn’t breathe. The room was too condensed. It felt like he was floating helplessly in a dark vacuum. “I’m sorry,” were the only words of consolation he could bring himself to say.

Everything had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had the chance to gather his thoughts. He figured Paige was probably in a worse state than him. He needed to talk to her. Make sure she was alright.

 Finding Paige was easy, all Poe had to do was follow the sound of retching and running water behind a lavatory door displaying the red ‘occupied’ sign. He waited a few minutes before delicately knocking on the door.

“Paige… you alright in there?”

She retched one more time before admitting freely, “No.”

“I know the feeling,” Poe sighed, rubbing his eyelids to try and scrape the sight of Koa’s flesh searing under the intense heat of the plasma torch. “What happened today was grim, I know… but—“

The door hissed open and Paige walked out with her mouth pried open in a stupefied look, “Grim?” she said the word like it was some foreign swear word. “Grim is seeing the aftermath of an explosion. Grim is hearing war stories shared by veterans in the mess hall. This? This is something else. This is too real to just be grim!”

Paige was angry and she was entitled to feel that way, she needed to vent. Instead of saying anything that could make matters worse, Poe opted to lean his sore muscles against the cold steel walls of the ship. His concentration focused on a section of panelling that was brazed together. The flash of Koa’s flesh curdling closed over her bloody cut bombarded his vision again and he shifted uncomfortably. His stomach turning yet again.

Paige slid to the floor, head between her knees, “It's different… isn’t it?”

He turned to her, “What is?”

“Being amongst the stars… fighting amongst the stars. Compared to being on the ground –on the front lines…”

Poe’s head fell back onto the metal wall, his hands pushing his hair and sweat away from his face. He glanced in the direction he had come from, Calista’s frame was still crumpled on the floor, visible through the semi-transparent walls of the med bay. Guilt panged at his chest, but mostly he was filled with relief and that made him angry.

“Yes,” he answered finally. “It is.”

Versengen pulled his body through the dirt with what little reserves of strength he had left. Once inside his ship, he popped his helmet off and let the cool air interact with the slick wetness on his disfigured face. He leaned against a shiny surface and saw his own morphed reflection in the polished wall. His knuckle struck the strip of panelling until it indented inward.

“Get us airborne,” he ordered the ship’s AI in charge of autopilot and the ship rumbled to life, sending vibrations through his bruised body.

His medical droid walked in from an unseen position and pulled him onto the surgical table where it started to remove his armour plate by plate. Loud gonging noises echoed out every time a piece of armour fell and his muscles were freed from the burden of hefty metal.

“Open a secure channel to the Duchess,” he spoke out to the black ship’s cramped space.

Maligma’s profile came into view as a projection came to life in front of him, “I hope you have good news.”

“They eluded me.”

“He eluded you, you mean.”

Versengen’s jaw muscle flexed of its own accord, “Yes. He eluded me.”

“Again,” Maligma’s eyes narrowed.

His nostrils curled up, “Again.”

“Make sure you don’t allow such discrepancies to occur a third time, Versengen. There won’t be a fourth. I assure you,” her threat came across as clear as day.

A man with red hair and a pale face stepped next to the Duchess’s side. He looked down at Versengen with entitlement. He wore the colours and uniform of the First Order. His arms were folded in a way that puffed his chest to make it look larger.

“You have two days,” she warned before ending their transmission.

Versengen pushed his droid aside and ripped off the rest of his armour crudely.

“Follow the beacon at a safe distance,” he barked out more orders before flooding a tank with bacta fluid. A breathing apparatus strapped to his nose and mouth while the glowing blue liquid covered his body cut by cut, bruise by bruise, burn by burn. 

As the blue liquid submerged over him, his reflection stared back at him through the glass walls of the tank. His unmarred skin taunting him with the face of another man. The face of Mokk-Toh.

 To be continued…

Tags: @carolinamalo53 @everything-intertwined

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

And the Kangaroos - Pacific Rim

This was originally a Christmas present for @cookieoffortune (AKA my favorite reader and now friend.) but then I got distracted and idk…now its here for better or worse. It might be shit but I needed me some Pacific Rim lovin.

Summary: The Sydney Shatterdome is being shut down and no one is very happy.

Words: 1800

“What do you mean shutting us down!?” Chuck asked incredulously.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Our funding’s gone, its ALL gone. They’ve finished their damn wall. They don’t need us anymore.” Herc Hansen grumbled, leaning back against a table in the briefing room.

“Panama in November. Vladivostok and LA this month. That means it’s just us and the Hong Kong Shatterdome left!” You shouted. “What if their wall fails, they are literally getting rid of their only backup plan.”

“How can they afford to put all their eggs in one basket like that?” Your sister and co-pilot Lauren stood off the table she was sitting on and ran a frustrated hand through her hair.

“Because they can’t afford to maintain Jaegers.” Herc paused before continuing, “Pentecost is gathering the rest of the assets at Hong Kong.”

You looked up.

“Surely you can’t mean…?” You let your question trail off, a slight feeling of dread settling in your stomach.

“No. HELL NO.” Chuck started when his father raised a hand.

“We have no choice!” Herc cut him off. “We have our orders. Chuck and I will stay until the wall is finished…Y/N and Lauren leave…tomorrow.”

“What!?” Lauren shouted.

“TOMORROW!?” You winced at the volume of your own voice.

“Pentecost wants a two Jaeger defensive line as soon as possible. The refit on that old Jaeger are not finished and Pentecost still hasn’t chosen pilots for it. Which means Crimson Typhoon is the only Jaeger stationed at Hong Kong. He won’t pull Cherno or Striker until the last minute which means…” Herc explained.

“Renegade is the only other operational Jaeger.” You finished for him. “I understand.”

“Pack and be ready then. You have your orders.” Herc said, turning to leave the room. He looked briefly at you before leaving. “Im sorry.” He mumbled. You nodded and he left.

The three of you left in the briefing room sat in silence for a brief moment before Lauren took a step towards one of the computer towers that lined the room and slammed a punch against it, denting its metal casing.

“FUCK THIS!” She growled. “Leave Sydney!? After all we’ve done for this whole fucking planet and the council still treats us like expendable chess pieces.”

She levied another hit against the computer casing, and another. You winced when you saw the screen it was connected to blink off. You took a step towards her and caught her fist midair before she could land another hit.

“We ARE expendable chess pieces. We’re still soldiers. We still take orders. Now stop before you hurt yourself.” Your voice was low and firm as you held her hand up. Sure enough, her knuckles were already blue with bruises. “If you want to punch something take it to the gym.”

She clenched her fist once more before relaxing. With a sigh she spoke.

“I know. I’m just…I’ll go pack.” She offered you an almost apologetic smile before leaving the briefing room, leaving you alone with Chuck. He still sat slouched on the table, turned away from you, head in his hands.

The reality of the situation seemed to hit you all at once and you reached an arm out to steady yourself against the wall. Not only did you have to leave Sydney…you had to leave Chuck…and you were terrified that if you left, you’d never come back to Australia. You lowered you head to look at the floor.

“I don’t want to go to Hong Kong.” You said out loud, not necessarily to Chuck, but more to yourself. Though when he didn’t say anything you looked up. From the tremble in his arms and the way his fists were clenched against his ball cap, you could tell he was holding back a torrent of rage. You were grateful that he was refraining from an outburst, knowing he was doing so for your sake…but at the same time you needed YOUR Chuck in that moment. For you felt the tears spring hot into your eyes and you wanted him to hold you, to tell you everything was going to be ok.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. So you left.

You walked slowly back the cold metal corridors of the Sydney Shatterdome back toward your room, though you paused when you past the doorway to the gym reserved for pilots. There once had been a quite a few of you stationed here…now just four. Which meant the gym was empty. As anger bubbled up inside you, you decided to follow your own advice you had given your sister.

You stepped inside and shed your jacket and shirt, leaving you in just a black tank top. You tucked your dog tags underneath this tank top and narrowed your eyes at a black punching bag hanging in the corner. You didn’t even bother taping your hands before you flew at it.

As you hit, you didn’t notice that you had started to cry. You didn’t notice you had left the door open. You only felt anger tear through you. Your cries turned to furious screams as you landed hit after hit. At some point you vaguely recalled your hands going numb, but you kept hitting. You didn’t stop until arms were suddenly wrapped around your waist, pulling you away from the bag.

“Take it easy Y/n!” Chuck’s voice brought you blinking back to reality. You freed yourself from his arms and sank to your knees on the padded gym floor. Your hands hung at your sides as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Chuck moved to kneel in front of you, drawing up your hands in his own.

“Didn’t you tell your sister to stop before you hurt yourself?” He asked, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. You shrugged and looked up at him.

“I don’t want to go to Hong Kong.” You repeated your earlier statement. Chuck ran his gaze up your body before meeting your eyes and his heart ached.

Your knuckles were bruised. Your hair was wild. Sweat soaked your tank top. Your face was red and your eyes were puffy. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to take away your hurt. But he couldn’t and he felt himself getting angry yet again. And then you leaned forward, collapsing against his chest, and his anger disappeared. He gathered you up in his arms and buried his face in your hair.

“I don’t want to go either.” He said, muffled against your scalp as he began to rock you slowly back and forth. You pushed away after a minute and looked up to him and sniffed.

“This sucks.” You pushed out your bottom lip and he smirked.

“I know.” He pushed a kiss against your forehead before hauling you up to your feet. He walked to pick your shirt and jacket up and then back to you. He gingerly wove his fingers through your sore ones and tugged you gently out into the hallway and back to your room. Once there you plopped on your stomach onto the bed. Chuck threw your jacket into a corner, kicked off his boots, and then tugged your boots off.

Your breath was squished suddenly out of you when Chuck plopped his entire body weight onto you, wrapping his arms underneath your stomach.

“Get offffffff.” You gasped, trying to roll him off of you. He responded by pushing little nibbling kisses around your neck and over your shoulder blades.

“Charles.” You growled. He sighed at the sound of his full name and rolled over just enough for you to scoot out from under him, keeping his arms around your waist. You rolled in his arms so that your chest was pressed against his.

“They’re almost done with that wall.” He said after a moment. “I’d wager I’ll be in Honk Kong with you in only a couple weeks.”

“And what if we die in this last ditch effort to save planet earth.” You muttered grumpily.

“Come on. Striker literally has the record for Kaiju kills. With five Jaegers we will seal that rift shit up and be done with all…this.” You felt his chest swell against you. You didn’t know if it was pride or forced hope.

“Lauren and I have never dropped anywhere but here. I don’t…I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” You admitted. Renegade Bounty was a smaller Jaeger, an experimental one of a kind. Built for speed instead of brute strength.

“Oh please. You are the second best pilot in the whole corps.” Chuck freed his arm from under you and propped himself up on his elbows above you.

“And who might be the first??” You asked, knowing the answer.

“Well I mean…I do have that record.” He said with a grin. You smiled back at him and raised a hand to fiddle with his dog tags that hung down from his neck and rested on your chest.

“If we do this…seal the rift…what happens to us after?” You asked. He looked up for a moment in thought and then returned his gaze to your eyes.

“They will slap a big fancy medal right here.” He poked your chest, eliciting an eyeroll from you. “And then I’m taking you as far away from the fucking ocean as I can. We’ll get a farm out in the desert and we will do nothing except have sex and watch kangaroos hop by till we get old.”

You chuckled at the image that put in your head and then sighed.

“You want to get old with me?” You asked.

“Course I do.” He dropped from his elbows to nuzzle his forehead against yours. “You’re the only person on this whole planet who likes me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole…” You teased, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re the only person on this whole planet who I like then.” He said softly. He let your arms drag him the rest of the way down to your lips which he took gently between his own. You started to lift the hem of his shirt when he pulled away.

“They’re making a mistake shutting the program down. It’s going to be a shit storm. I wish I could go to the United Nations and just kick some sense into their asses. But like you said…Im just a dumb soldier and-“

“I never said you were dumb.” You cut him off.

“Im just a soldier” He started again.  “And I’ll follow my orders. If Pentecost thinks we can end this then…I guess we have to try. But Im not going to do it for him, or the UN, or my dad, or any of the other people on this planet.”

He brought his hands to cup your cheeks.

“For us?” You asked.

“For me, you.” He bent down to kiss you again, “And our Kangaroos.”

inktober for writers - days 10 + 11 - honor + seaons / eijiroctober - days 10 + 11 - fantasy outfit + dragon Kiri

A/N: I reaaaaaaaally like what came out of this little writing exercise. like, i’m considering a longterm multi-chap?? esp since i left this REALLY open ended. sooo like tell me what you think? i love comments/criticism/love/suggestions!!

fic under the cut!

Dragons have always been ostracized. They’re too big, too destructive, too brutish, too inhuman. They are said to be too dumb to control their fire breathing, killing crops and animals and even children in fits of irritation or anger. Their transformations hint at a demonic origin, they’re Satan’s spawn, grandmothers whisper to their toddlers after tucking them in at night. They are dangerous, mystical beings that ought to be left alone. Or killed. Kirishima is sure that in another world, another universe or time or place, dragons would be appreciated, celebrated even. There would still be tales about them but only ones that paint them in a light that inspires hope or courage. They’d team up with princes and knights to take down wicked witches or evil kings. They’d have power and influence running hot with the blood in their veins, like the blazing red of molten lava. They would be heroes. Would be. If the world were different and humans were more understanding. Less cruel and more loving. If they’d only try to get outside of their own limited understanding of the world things would be different... So different that he wouldn’t have to be hauling ass through the expanse of a dark forest to get away from men who wanted to rip him apart and skin his dragon form for their winter boots. Kirishima runs. Keeps running until he’s blue in the face and, after that, he pushes himself to go even further. He’s weighed down with the heavy feelings of fear and guilt, stomach knotting more from intense sympathy than the burst of personal despair gripping his heart. He didn’t even think twice before leaving his friend behind... His only friend. The person who had saved him from certain death, going out of their way to help him recover from a critical sword wound, giving Kirishima his time, his magic, risking his reputation, his freedom to help a dragon that laid quickly dying on the side of a road. Why did he leave him behind? How did he leave him behind? What kind of dragon leaves behind a friend in need at the drop of a pence? As soon as a little trouble starts brewing? When did he become so cowardly and disgusting, being able to leave behind the only friend, the only family he’s ever known, to deal with bloodthirsty scoundrels on their own? Kirishima trips. His foot catches on a vine, sending his whole body flying forward at high speed. He hits the ground with a loud thud and an eery CRACK of bones breaking. His side immediately lights up with searing pain, the impact of such a rough landing obviously jostling the placement of a few of his ribs. As the bounty hunters quickly close in on him, Kirishima starts to feel hot tears run down his face in rivulets. He’s so ridden with guilt he isn’t even crying over his almost certain death at the hands of these men. He can’t tear his thoughts away from the alchemist-in-training who has probably already met a worse fate. His body shakes violently at the thought of his soft-hearted green-eyed companion. His tears burn his skin, the memory of Midoriya being roughly restrained and tied up in preparation of a probably violent interrogation makes him sick. Midoriya was only a target because of his ties to HIM and Kirishima had the audacity, the sheer cowardice, to leave him alone and defenseless in order to save his own ass. He deserves to die. He stares at the men approaching him through watery eyes. The black of their clothing blend in seamlessly with the darkness of the forest. A sharp contrast to the glittering silver of their sharp sabers, sparkling menacingly under the cover of moonlight. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe as the leader of the group steps forward to finish the job. He’s over six feet tall, bald, and ugly with a taunting face and a bulging neck. He walks forward slowly with his saber drawn and pointed towards Kirishima’s throat. He chuckles darkly, a hollow sound that chills the redhead’s spine. “When I finally get back home, after hanging yer scaly ass head from my fireplace, I gotta go to the temple ‘n’ thank the gods for this piece o’ shit death trap.” He opens his arms and slowly turns in a circle, faux-marveling at the forest. “Ya almost got away, ya little shit. Didn’t even know scum like you could run that fast when yer outta yer real form. Shit. Thought ya were high off some witches’ salt or somethin’,” he laughs. The sound grates Kirishima’s nerves. He glares at the man but he doesn’t dare speak. If anything, he’ll just earn himself a painful death. If he’s going to die like this, he’s gonna go out as painless as possible. “Ya can’t speak, dragon?” Kirishima blinks wordlessly and the man laughs again. “Oh, I get it. Yer gonna go out bein’ all dignified ‘n’ quiet ‘n’ shit, yeh?” The smile on his face twists into a thing of wickedness. “Let’s see how yer friend’ll take it when we come back with ya cut up into tiny pieces ‘n’ we tell him that you took it like a real man,” he smiles devilishly and starts waving his sword about. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Kirishima’s voice comes out in a hoarse, pained whisper. The toll of broken bones and a crushed spirit affecting his ability to speak. Another laugh. “Just jokin’ wit’ ya! I only get paid the full amount if ya come back chopped up ‘n’ the kid gets delivered in his right mind. The gruesome truth will be just between ya ‘n’ me.” He winks at Kirishima with a creepy amount of enthusiasm. “Ya know what they say?” Kirishima continues to glare at him, so much hatred seeping out of his pores it is almost tangible. “Two can keep a secret if one of ‘em is de—“ A crudely made arrow slices through the air and pierces the man’s neck. The man looks terrified and confused, mouth moving and trying to communicate around the arrow currently lodged in his throat but his damaged voice box and the blood pooling out of his mouth prevents him from offering up more than watery gurgles. Another arrow flies from above Kirishima’s head and lodges itself into the man’s heart. He falls backwards, body lifelessly collapsing to the ground as blood continues to overflow from his open mouth. A stronger wave of fear takes Kirishima by surprise. He can’t fight an enemy he can’t see. He can’t fight at all, actually, with his body in such a condition and being too weak to switch forms. The biological alarm that’s telling his entire brain and body and soul to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE is useless. His energy is sapped, his limit reached. Not even the healthy dose of adrenaline pumping through his veins are enough to help him escape. He watches on in terror as the arrows start traveling through the air at now rapid rates, effectively killing or incapacitating the rest of the five or six men that had come with their now-dead leader. The entire ambush only spans about two minutes, but Kirishima’s anxiety leads him to believe he’s been vulnerable for hours. Watching the dead or fallen men around him become decorated with arrows pains him. Not because they didn’t deserve it. They most certainly did. If he’s being honest, they deserved an end even less merciful than this for harming Midoriya in the way that they did. However, as easy as they got off in Kirishima’s eyes, it still looked like an anguishing death. The screaming, the wide eyes of confusion and fright. Looks of horror overtaking entire faces at the realization that they were dying finally set in. It looked like something he didn’t want to experience first hand. Kirishima waits for his arrow. He squeezes his eyes shut, some childish part of him still believing that not seeing something makes it less unbearable. He shrinks himself into a ball and waits. He prays to any god that will listen to a pathetic dragon like him that he’ll luck up and get an arrow that kills him instantly. He also sends a prayer up for Midoriya, asking the god of luck and fortune to make a way for him to escape the clutches of the men who captured him. He prays for other things, little things, like good otter tail in the afterlife and a some dwarf-made beer just to whet his tastes. It’s been so long, so, so long since he’s had a decent meal and something to drink that wasn’t dirty river water.... Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. If what the templars and priests were always saying was true, maybe he’d have a better time after death. With endless food, kind neighbors, angels with locks like gold helping him along his w— “You gonna stay like that, Scales-for-Brains? Get the fuck up, you lazy piece of shit, we gotta get goin’. Fuckin’ hell, look at your sorry ass! I was thinkin’ that we could fly off real fast, but you smell like someone kicked the shit outta you.” When Kirishima looks up from the ground, he sees a man about his age peering down at him. He’s shirtless, necklaces of red- and blue-dyed sharkteeth adorning his neck and chest, with a red cape lined with fur decorating his shoulders. The moonlight catching the fringe of his bang reveals his hair to be a dirty blond color, wild and unruly. Kirishima doesn’t have to guess about the color of his eyes either, as they glow supernaturally bright, crimson colored irises glaring down at him in irritation. “Can you understand me, dumbass? I said I can smell all the internal bleeding you got right now! You’re gonna fuckin’ die if you just lay here, get your sorry ass up.” Before Kirishima can even process what’s happening, he’s yanked to his feet by the foul mouthed blond. Sharp pains rake his entire side, broken bones jostling and hitting places that they really shouldn’t. Kirishima fights the urge to punch the man in his face. “If you can tell that I’m hurt why the hell are you dragging me around like a rag doll? And what’s your deal? You just meet random people and start cursing them out?” The blond rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Scales-for-Brains. You don’t know me, but I know you. So just get with the fuckin’ program already,” the man huffs and Kirishima feels like he’s a wayward child being scolded. “Gods, I fuckin’ swear, anytime that little dick Deku needs anything from me I end up getting the shit end of the stick. One day I’m just gonna tell him to fuck off.” Kirishima forgets the gravity of the situation for a bit as his curiosity piques. “You know me? From where? Have we met before?” The blond gives him a look of irritation and starts stomping off, away from the carnage. “He— Hey! I’m talking to you!” “I know that, dumbass, keep it the fuck down before you wake up a demon boar or something. I’ll leave your ass quick and in a hurry. And don’t forget it,” Kirishima scrambles after him as quickly as he can with broken ribs. “We haven’t met, I just know about you from that shit ass alchemist that you follow around.” Kirishima’s heart races. “You know Midoriya?!” “Didn’t I just say that?” Kirishima can’t see the blond’s face but he’s almost sure that his face is scrunched up in a mean look. Since when did Midoriya hang around such..... unfortunate company? “You said he contacted you? How? When? He’s in a lot of trouble right now! Those guys attacked us at his home and they have him tied up! I know that they just wanted me but they’re ready to kill him if he doesn’t cooperate! And now that I’m gone and their acco—“ “Do you ever shut the fuck up? Shit. Obviously, he’s not too bad if he had the energy to summon a pigeon to get my attention.” Kirishima continues to shuffle after the blond, but the latter slows down, so he’s able to catch his breath a bit. “Just now?” “Probably an hour’s passed since then. Maybe two. I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment. “And those guys weren’t after you, dumbass. They probably just saw a fuckin’ dragon and decided to take advantage. Dragon hides go for big money these days. Could feed a whole fuckin’ village with just your right claw on a fuckin’ stick.” “Yes, I know,” Kirishima responds bitterly. The blond whips his head to study Kirishima’s face. “Apologies. That was shitty. But, yeah, they’re not after you. They’re after shitty Deku and whatever fuckin’ shit he found out after he stuck his nose in the king’s business. Idiot.” He turns his head back around to continue navigating and Kirishima thinks about all of this information quietly. Was Midoriya working on something that dangerous without telling him? Of course, he knew that the only reason Midoriya wouldn’t have told him about whatever he discovered was because it was potentially life-threatening information. Unfortunately, though, the truth of the matter doesn’t make the betrayal sting any less. “So are they going to kill him? For knowing whatever he knows?” “Nah, they’ll interrogate him for awhile. The king loves torture. It’ll probably be months before they finally let ‘im kick the bucket.” The other boy relays this information to Kirishima as if they were discussing the upcoming weather in Driwox. The casual tone of his voice prevents the knowledge from numbing Kirishima’s brain. “And you’re not gonna do anything about it? Didn’t he call you for help? I was assuming you guys were friends, but you’re just strolling along after you acknowledged that he’s gonna die in the span of a few months if he doesn’t get released! That doesn’t bother you? What the hell is your issue?” He doesn’t realize that he’s yelling until the blond whips around and smashes his hand over his mouth. “Shut the fuck up, Scales-for-Brains. We’re trying to get back to my place without getting mauled!” The blond is whisper-yelling, his face so close to Kirishima’s he can smell the hotness of his breath as he speaks. Cinnamon. The shirtless man sighs looking Kirishima in the eyes with a solemn look. “Look, I know firsthand about how shitty he’s about to have it. If it were up to me, I’d be treating the rest of the king’s lapdogs to some Stfkier arrows right up the ass.” Kirishima watches the man’s face alight with a strong combination of sadness and unbridled anger. “But that’s not what that shithead told me to do. He asked me to find you, make sure you’re safe, and to run some errands for him.” Kirishima’s eyebrows unconsciously rise. The other man laughs. “Yeah, fuckin’ errands. Like the little dick is goin’ off on vacation and not being fuckin’ targeted by the monarchy.” He shakes his head furiously, but the look on his face is a tad bit fond. “He sounds crazy, but whatever he found is apparently worth securing by any means necessary.” The blond moves his hands away from Kirishima’s mouth. The redhead was already feeling drained with all of the trouble accumulating around him, but now he’s discovering a level of fatigue that he never knew existed before. “So he’s sacrificing himself.” It’s meant to sound like a question, but his tone falls flat.

He feels like sleeping for a thousand years. Maybe he will. Without Midoriya there’s nothing to stick around for anyway. “We’re not lettin’ him, Shitty Hair. So stop lookin’ like a lost puppy,” the blond’s voice cuts through his thoughts and brings him back to attention. “We’ve got a little time between now and Deku’s execution. If we can follow-through with everything on his list, we can get him released. Whatever he found must be enough to throw the entire royal court up in flames.” Kirishima’s eyes widen with surprise. “‘We?’ You’re trusting me to help you with this? With whatever could destroy the stability of an entire kingdom? Yeah, no. Not even Midoriya thought I could handle that.” At the last statement, his heart drops. It was his own fault for getting his hopes up, though. Humans aren’t wired to trust dragons with their whole, entire beings. Their distrust of dragons is biological, built in. Not even a kind soul like Midoriya was exempt from something that ingrained. “Hey. Don’t be a little shit. Deku was protecting you.  And you know that. He’d trust you with the entire moon if it were his to give. Believe me. I get sick of hearing about your dumbass all the time. You’re his closest friend. Have a little more faith in him.” After letting his words sink in for a bit, the blond folds his arms over his chest and fixes him with a challenging stare. “So you in or not? Say no and I’ll kick your wingless ass.” Kirishima rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know me. You’ve only heard about me. I doubt I can help you complete whatever tasks Midoriya laid out for you. I’m just... Just me. And ‘just me’ isn’t enough to save anyone. I’ve tried before,” Kirishima explains. He thanks the all-encompassing darkness shrouding them as steamy tears threaten to fall again. The other man is quiet for a long while. They continue walk in silence until they reach the edge of the forest, the trees thinning to reveal a large field of grass as far as the eyes can see. Now that they’re out of the forest, the moonlight is bright enough to illuminate the world around them. The field of grass seems almost unreal, the light giving it an ethereal glow. Kirishima wonders if they’re about to cross a faerie field. “Look,” the blond begins, cutting into Kirishima’s thoughts for the countless time tonight. “You’re right. I don’t know you, don’t know shit about you. All I know is that I gotta get Deku outta whatever shit he’s tangled up in now and this time I need help.” His crimson eyes glow even brighter under the moonlight, more intense than they’ve ever been so far. “I’m not asking you to be anything more than what you are.” “A dragon?” “A friend,” the man corrects. “You think this whole deal is complicated and out of your reach, but it’s not. The most important thing he needs right now is people rallying behind him makin’ things happen. That’s all. I just need you to be a friend. We can figure the rest of this shit out as we go along.” Kirishima wavers under his heavy gaze. He wants to be agreeable, to help Midoriya but... His mind flashes back to a scene from only a few hours ago. It keeps replaying desperately he ran from Midoriya’s attackers instead of staying and fighting for him, with him. He’s not at all qualified for this. He isn’t a friend. He’s a traitor, a coward. Lower than scum. “I left him there,” Kirishima says simply. His body heaves in despair and a sharp pain shakes his whole body. Hopefully one of those broken ribs will pierce his heart. “So redeem yourself. Grow. Make this a fuckin’ quest to redeem your honor. I don’t know, Shitty Hair. I really don’t. All I know is: sitting on your ass and crying about what you did in the past ain’t gonna help anyone. You’re just abandoning him again.” The blond gently places a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder. The redhead dares to meet his eyes and is surprised to see them holding an emotion other than aggressive irritation. His gaze is gentle, careful. “Buck up, Scales. Seriously. He wouldn’t have wanted you to fight them anyway. You definitely woulda got yourself killed.” And just like that, the gentleness is gone, compassion evaporating like a shallow puddle on a midsummer’s day. “So what now? What’re you gonna do, Scales-for-Brains? I ain’t got all night. I need to sleep.” The blond holds Kirishima’s gaze while the latter drowns in his own thoughts. “Kirishima.” “What?” Kirishima shrugs the blond’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou. If we’re going to work together stop calling me dumb names.” The blond rolls his eyes. “Dumb name. I’ll stick with ‘Scales,’” he comments as he gently wraps Kirishima’s arm around his neck and snakes his other arm around the dragon’s waist to give him some foundational support. Kirishima huffs in response to his statement but is otherwise grateful for the help. “Bakugou. I would say it’s a pleasure but it’s been a real shitshow.” Kirishima laughs for the first time since nightfall. “That’s putting it nicely.” Bakugou spares him a smirk. “So you good to go? We’ve got to basically fly across this field if we don’t want any fuckin’ faeries messing with us tonight.” “You live in a faerie field? Do you have a death wish?” “They can’t fuck with you unless you give them your name,” Bakugou turns his head and gives his companion a look of muted irritation. “Like you just did. Now we have to hurry up just in case one of them fuckin’ heard you. Damned moron.” Kirishima sputters. “Bu— Bu— Okay, I didn’t know, you could’ve said something or cut me off! You’re not the nicest guy, it wouldn’t have been to hard to do.” Kirishima gives a half-hearted glare in the blond’s direction. “And you gave your name too! So what about that?” “That’s not my given name.” Kirishima immediately looks slighted and Bakugou laughs. “Calm yourself. Nothing’ll happen. We just have to hurry up, which is why I asked if you’re good to go.” “I’m not, but I wanna get out of here as soon as dragonly possible. So let’s make it happen. Ribs and bruised insides be damned.” “That’s the spirit, Scales. That’s the type of shit I was always hearing about from Deku.” Kirishima looks at Bakugou. “He talked about me that much?” “All the fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ annoying. But I’ve heard some wild shit about you, Scales. We’ve gotta sit down and compare notes after all this shit is over. You’re my kinda guy. Real rough an’ fuckin’ tough. Don’t know why you’re palling around with Deku’s nerd ass.” Kirishima’s face heats up under the overwhelming praise. “He’s a good person,” he manages to answer through embarrassment and... pleasure? “Yeah,” Bakugou agrees, completely oblivious to Kirishima’s malfunction. “Yeah, he is. That’s why we’re gonna rescue him. So let’s go.” Quickly, the two of them start moving through the field. Side by side, they navigate around faerie fields, dodge pixie stalks, and other traps set by the mischievous little folk. While they hustle, Bakugou tells Kirishima stories about Midoriya and the trouble they used to get into as children and young teens. Kirishima wonders how such a wild, obviously inhuman, creature like Bakugou grew up with Midoriya, a sweet human from the very literal middle of nowhere in the Driwox kingdom.

He supposes he has a while to figure that out though. He’s going to be spending at least a couple months with the explosive, wild creature currently helping him to safety.

He hopes that Midoriya can hold out for that long.

Fix This

Pairings: Vane / Reader

Warnings: Swearing (A LOT), Violence, 

Request:  @fear-of-the-guardians Hello! I hope I’m doing it right?? Never requested something but I love your writing. Maybe Vane finally ready to move on from Eleanor after Charlestown. But the girl/reader doesn’t want him at first because he left her for Eleanor once. But Charles now realized that she was the one?🤗 She’s strong and was a pirate under Ned Lows command before Charles killed him, she wanted revenge but Charles awakes her feelings again.

As a side note do people on my everything tag list want to be tagged in things other than THE 100 imagines? 

@angelaiswriting @selldraug @thenovarose @mindofthescattered @georgiagrl1990

Rackham slipped into the seat opposite your own a fake smile plastered onto his face as he tried to hide the grimace at the large line of empty glasses in front of you.

“Yes?”

“Nice to see you as well Y/N” he peered over the edge of the current glass you were nursing. “It seems your mug is empty, allow me to rectify that” waving his hand he flagged down the wench serving and grabbed another two mugs of ale pushing it over to you.

“What do you want Rackham?” you snarled, not at all in the mood for his games and flowery words. You’d come in to get pissed, a goal you had been well on the way to achieving before Rackham sat his ass down opposite you.

“Nothing my flower, not a thing. This pleasant little interlude it entirely about what I can do for you”

Sighing loudly you took a large gulp from the mug he’d gotten you. “Fine, what can you do for me?”

“Our mutual… acquaintance is looking to have a chat”

“I don’t want to talk to your fucking shit of a captain Rackham” you drained the remaining contents of the mug slamming it down onto the table. Narrowing your eyes at him. “Tell him to stuff whatever fucked up offer he has right up his arse and crawl back to that whore Guthrie”

“Such language from one so fair”

“Rackham I am running out of patience for you” his eyes widened comically and you took a firmer grasp on your rapidly thinning temper. “You need to back the fuck off and leave me alone”

“Y/N…”

It took seconds for you to prove to him that you weren’t anywhere near as drunk as he’d thought. Pushing the bench back from underneath you with a screech of wood against alcohol sodden tiles. You reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt taking a large chunk of it in your hold as you yanked him over the table. Rackham grunted in surprise as his chest slid along the table. You let go of his shirt to take hold of both shoulders spinning him over so he was on his back, staring up at you. A knife slid out of your shirt sleeve long and sharp and pressed against Rackham’s neck.

“What part of fuck off did you mishear Rackham?”

Rackham didn’t answer, mainly due to the pressure on his neck from you knife. The other patrons in the tavern too used to violence in their daily lives had barely blinked at your little skirmish with Rackham. Instead muttering about women and knives before going back to their own drinks.

“Y/N?”

“Great, just great” you muttered using your spare hand to pick up Rackham’s earlier untouched mug of ale. “Going to take this Rackham”

“By all means” he gasped out even managing a small smile as you downed the contents in his mug. The ale wasn’t good at the taverns but a person soon learnt to ignore the taste of it in trade off for the numbing effects on one’s mind. In this case you were really hoping that with one more mug of ale the owner of that gruff sounding voice behind you would vanish by the time you turned around.

Finally removing your knife from Rackham’s neck you turned around. The ale hadn’t worked that much was obvious very quickly because Captain Vane was stood there hands on his hips staring down at you.

“Vane” sliding the knife back into the sheath on your forearm you crossed your arms over your chest staring at him. “Sending people to butter me up first are you now?”

“If I did it clearly wasn’t working”

“Clearly”

Rackham had gotten up as well brushing crumbs and assorted dirt from his clothing before rubbing a hand over his throat. He cocked his head towards you “Y/N always a pleasure”

“Fuck off Jack” Vane echoed your sentiments from before as a plainly annoyed Rackham did indeed leave you both alone.

Vane’s eyes returned to you as he stared apparently not wanting to be the one who spoke first. In the game you both played of constantly trying to win over the other it seemed the most recent stakes were breaking and talking first.

In the end neither of you spoke because Vane reached out grabbed your wrist and dragged you from the taverns main room. At your show of violence the patrons had barely reacted whereas when Vane had grabbed you and you’d started shouting and thrashing they suddenly couldn’t have been busier. Refusing to look at either of you and definitely not willing to break Vane’s grip on you or get in his path.

Vane kicked open doors along the taverns corridor interrupting whores doing business, merchants snoring and thieves sneaking towards bountiful loots. Finally finding an empty room he shoved you into it boarding the door behind him to stop you escaping once again.

Practically spitting with rage you slipped the knife back out of your sleeve fingering the blade, Vane’s eyebrows rose as he noticed the weapon but he didn’t move or look slightly threatened.

“Going to stab me Y/N?”

“I should, you fucking murdered my captain for that whore Vane”

“Lowe deserved what he got” he waved away your words, unconcerned with the allegations of murder. After all it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been accused of murder. “You however are a different story all together”

“Meaning what?”

“You joined that fuck wits crew Y/N, when you knew my relationship with him”

“Why exactly should I give a fuck what you wanted from me Vane?” your voice had gotten louder and louder until the point where you were screaming. “You left me remember. Decided that screwing Eleanor Guthrie would be a better option”

“I was wrong”

Well that took all the metaphorical wind right from your sails. You had known Charles Vane for close to 10 years, ever since he’d dragged your skinny teenage ass from the sea of a wrecked British Merchant ship. Never once in the whole of those 10 years had you heard him say he was wrong or even allude to the possibility that he could be.

“You were wrong?” repeating the words even sounded strange.

He was scowling but nodding in agreement. “You were right about Eleanor, always had been” he took a step towards you in the room, starting to box you into a corner with his body.

“So now what?” snarling you held the knife up stopping his movements towards you. “You thought you’d come and claim your consolation prize? Fuck you Vane”

He took another step towards you reaching for your arms. Not at all willing to just let him take you once more you flailed out with the knife in your hand catching his forearm and cutting a deep slice. Growling Vane took hold of your wrist twisting making you let go of the knife with a cry of pain. His other arm came around your waist pinning your arm to your side as he dragged your back into his chest.

“Fucking crazy woman, stay still”

“No” hissing like a feral cat you struggled in his grasp, stamping down hard on the top of his foot with your boot.

He grunted and shifted you in his arms once more lifting so you were actually off the ground effectively neutralising your feet as a weapon against him.

“Listen to me Y/N, it’s not Eleanor that I killed Lowe for”

“Of course you did” his muscles were straining around you as you still fought to get free of his grip. “You left a bloody sign in the square Vane with his head. Who else had Lowe angered than that bitch Guthrie”

“I did not kill him for Eleanor” he repeated somehow managing to spin you around in his grip so your chests were pressed together, with your feet still lifted off the floor it put your face on the exact level of his own. “I killed him for you?”

“What?” shock had you finally stopping your attempts at escape. “How in the world do you figure that killing Lowe was helping me?”

“If I put you down will you listen?”

“Fine” He did put you back down on your feet taking a moment to look down at his arm. The cut you’d managed to inflict on him was still bleeding. “Sit down” you ordered “I’ll clean it and you can tell me how your tiny little brain came up with this newest conclusion”

He ignored your insult too used to them to care instead hooking a foot around a stool he sat near the bed. You perched on the end of it reaching out to take his arm and using the only clean water in the room to start bathing the cut.

“Rackham was the one who heard it, Lowe and his men discussing what they were going to do to you”

“Fucking Rackham, he’s about as trustworthy as a snake”

“He was right Y/N. Anne was there too”

“Fine, just what were they apparently going to do to me?”

“I’m not spelling it out” Vane caught your wrist in his own stopping what you were doing. “Safe to say the bastard got what he deserved”

“So I’m meant to believe that you killed Lowe to protect my honour?” He grunted and you shook your head. “Well fuck you Vane, I don’t need you to protect me, never did”

He lurched back to his feet pushing the stool backwards with his boot heel so it slammed into the wall. “You are a stubborn bitch. Can’t fucking win can I? Can’t protect you and can’t ignore you, can’t love you but can’t be away from you so tell me Y/N what the fuck do you want?”

“From you?” he nodded “Nothing” you snarled getting back up to your feet as well. “You broke me Vane. When you made off with Eleanor you broke the only bit of my humanity left. You can’t fix it just by telling me you were wrong”

“Then what?”

You sighed anger fading away with the outgoing breath, after a pause you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know if you can”

Very slowly Vane lifted his hands placing them on your face, using his thumbs to gently run along your cheekbones. “I’m going to fix it” he swore gravel in his voice as he refused to break eye contact with you. “No matter what it takes or how long it takes I am going to fix this. At least let me try?”

“Alright” his eye brightened at your words. “Alright you can try. I’m making no promises though Vane”

Leaning down he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry I have ample confidence in my abilities. Got you once can do it again”

“Cocky bastard” you muttered as smirking he let go of you moving away once again.

He left you alone stood in the room wondering how you had ended up back here again, hanging around waiting for Charles Vane. Wondering how that feeling was back in your stomach, the one where you couldn’t wait for him to come back. He would win you back, you knew that for sure. Smiling to yourself though you went and picked up your knife from the floor putting it back in its sheath once more. Knowing he would eventually win you back though gave you ample opportunity to make him work very fucking hard for it. Very hard.

Cross the Stars, viii.i

part viii, part ix

A/N: Hey there. Remember when I wrote a novel-length fanfic last month and then LEFT AN ENTIRE CHAPTER OUT??!!!! Yeah, I don’t know how I managed that either. So this is the missing chapter -- that no one seemed to mind missing? To be fair, no one knew it was missing - I didn’t even know until today. So you’re welcome. Warnings: NSFW

Summary: Indriza’s left the Axion crew, but now she has to convince Yondu she’s serious.

Words: 3,190

~~~

The ship makes three jumps, then glides into Contraxia’s atmosphere. She knows where he’s docked, where he’s at. The Iron Lotus - the same bar and brothel he had been at the last time she found him here. She doesn’t bother with the docks - her ship is a Smallship, after all. It has one entrance and one exit, and only needs to be docked on the Axion II. She wonders if Omara will come to retrieve it as she lands the Smallship and disembarks, her bag strapped over her shoulder.

She should have dressed warmer, but doesn’t care to berate herself for that choice. She moves quickly, building steam and heat in her body to keep her warm - even if she knows that isn’t quite how body heat works.

She comes up to the Iron Lotus and sees Kraglin where he was the last time - right out front, his comm in his hand, eyes glued to the hologram coming from it. She calls out to him, he looks up, and meets her halfway.

“What’re you doin’ here, ‘Ndriza?” he asks, not necessarily enthusiastic, but also not all together angry.

“Yondu’s in danger,” she says, breathing heavily.

His eyes go wide. “Cap’s always in danger,” he says, unbelieving.

“Stakar Ogord’s placed a bounty on him. A big one. The other factions will be after him before long.”

“I told you where we were,” Kraglin said, breath heavy, face full of worry.

Indriza shook her head. “I came alone. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I left the Axion faction.”

“What?” he asked.

She takes her bag off her shoulder and hands it to Kraglin, who takes it before he knows what he’s doing. “I have to find him, Kraglin.”

“Cap’n don’t wanna see you,” he says as she walks around him.

Indriza stops only to turn and say, “I know, but I have to warn him. I have to tell him that they’re coming for him.”

Kraglin stares for a second, then sets his face in a straight glance and nods.

Indriza turns back and heads through the bar and into the brothel, climbing the familiar steps. She goes to the same floor as the last time, and lo and behold, there is his coat hanging outside the same room. He must be a creature of some habit, she figures. Or else he’s just particularly fond of that room.

She goes to the door and tries the knob, but it’s locked. She bangs on the door and says, “Let me in.” She can’t call his name anymore - not in a place riddled with other ravagers just waiting for a chance to take the Oath Breaker.

The doorknob jiggles from inside the room, and then the cyborg is before her. She doesn’t know if it’s the same one as the last time, but she does the same thing - looks away, then leaves. Indriza invites herself in, shutting the door behind her.

“Driza?” he asks, just as he had the last time.

The room is lighter than she remembers. It’s not quite nighttime on Contraxia yet, so the sun flows in through a crack in the curtains. With this little light, she sees Yondu stand from the bed. His red pupils are surrounded by irritated redness and dark circles. He is shirtless, once again, but still wearing his pants and boots.

“We have to go,” Indriza says, looking around for his shirt - a bag - his arrow - whatever he brought with him.

He surprises her with a whistle. His fin glows, the only thing in the room illuminated then, and the arrow is pointed directly at her cranium. “Yer gonna tell me what yer doin’ here first,” he says.

She stares at the arrow, glowing and hot, and her breath catches. You hurt him, she reminds herself. Of course he’s wary. She lets out her breath and looks around the arrow at him, though it is difficult with the light from his weapon just before her.

“Ogord’s named his price,” she says. “The other factions will be after you soon. We have to get off this planet and hide.”

“You want to hide the Elector?” he asks. Then his eyes narrow. “Why’re you here, really, ‘Driza?”

No one believes her. No one has reason to, given where she had placed her loyalties two months ago. But she has no time to convince everyone; she must get him back on the Elector and the hell off of Contraxia.

“I’m here to save you,” she says, reaching up quickly to grip the arrow. It doesn’t budge from its place, but she doesn’t let it go.

He whistles, and the arrow drags her over to him until they are chest to chest, lips only centimeters apart. He takes the arrow from her and says, “Tell me what you want. Now, before I give ya another chance.”

She looks into his eyes and sees the pain she’s inflicted, but she can’t look away. She has no time. Allura will be getting her comm soon, and she has no idea when the factions will arrive to take custody of Yondu.

“Stakar Ogord has sent the factions after you,” she whispers. “I want to get you off of this dingy planet and into another province before they find you, take you, and kill you.”

“If Stakar’s payin’ good money for me, ain’t no one gonna kill me.”

She lets herself revel in feeling his breath on her again, but only briefly. She has to stay focused. “We have to go,” she repeats.

With his free hand, Yondu reaches up to touch the cheek he scarred. His fingers are gentle but rough against her skin, and they send a tingling sensation throughout her body. He opens his mouth like he might say something, but after a few seconds, closes it and shakes his head. He disengages from her, but nods.

“Fine,” he says, grabbing his shirt from the bed. “Let’s get outta here.” He throws the shirt on, then she follows him to the door. After he has his coat on and his arrow in its holster, they hurry out of the brothel. When they get to the bar, he whistles a different whistle, louder and more powerful. Those that know what it means turn to him. Yondu grabs Indriza’s arm, leaves the bar, then grabs Kraglin as they head out into the snow.

The crew follows them to the Elector. There are so many members of all races, species, colors - but all are loud, cantankerous, and slow-moving. Indriza’s stomach turns as she watches them all board the ship.

Yondu only stays to make sure the whole crew comes on. The second the last one has entered and the doors are shut, he heads for the cockpit. Indriza follows, not entirely sure what else to do. Kraglin, with her bag strapped over his shoulder, goes with them, following Yondu’s orders as fast as he makes them.

Eventually, she goes to take her bag back. They pull from the dock and blast into orbit before long, and then she hears Yondu sigh. He turns to her, while she stands waiting for him.

He moves past her, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s go.”

She follows again, through the bridge and across corridors. They reach the Captain’s quarters soon; Yondu shuts and locks the door behind them as she places her bag on the floor.

“‘Splain yourself,” he says with a straight face.

She moves toward him, but he steps back. She tries again, hoping he will forgive her for her mistakes, but that earns her a whistle and an arrow pointed at her head again.

“I said ‘splain yerself, not approach.”

Indriza sighs and drops her hands, nodding. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, feeling so small and insignificant. The stars in her skin are cold and lifeless then, not pulling her to him. When she looks at him again, he has not changed. He is stoic, expectant. “What do you want me to say?” she asks.

“Tell me why yer here, after ever’thin’.”

“I told you,” she says. “I came to save you.”

“Yer sister didn’ send ya to kill me?” he asks.

Her eyes widen. “You said yourself that they won’t kill you because of the bounty.”

“She could’ve sent ya here to lure me inta a trap,” he says.

“She wouldn’t,” she says.

“How am I supposed’ta believe that, Driza? You break me and then just show up and I’m supposed’ta just believe what ya say?”

“I know it’s not fair-”

“Yer damn right it ain’t fair!” he yells. His fists are balled, the arrow glowing brighter with each word. “It’s fuckin’ torture! And what’s worse is that yer gonna be the death’a me!”

“I’m not,” she says, but it sounds wrong and inconsequential.

“No, yer just gonna sell me out to Stakar Ogord!” He is still yelling, accusing her of doing something she would never think of doing.

She violently shakes her head. “I couldn’t,” she says, barely a whisper. Her throat is constricting again, a feeling all too familiar in the last few months. Between nightmares anxiety, she has been short of breath too often as of late.

“Ya could. How am I supposed’ta believe ya won’t, though?” he asks.

She wants to kiss him, thinking that would make him believe. She wonders if he feels the stars in his skin, too. She wants to do anything, feel anything, show anything that will convince him that she is here for him, not to hurt him. Not anymore.

“You just have to take my word for it, Yondu. I wouldn’t have left the Axion faction if I didn’t… If I didn’t love and want to protect you.” She lets a single tear fall before saying, “I sure as hell wouldn’t have flown all the way out to that shithole of a planet for you if I was only going to turn you over for money.”

He fights a laugh at first, biting his lip to keep it in. It only makes Indriza want to hold him more. When he does let it out, it comes in a burst, almost scaring her. The arrow jumps in place, but comes no closer to her.

After he calms down a bit, Yondu stands straight and approaches her slowly. “You really came back to save me?” he asks.

She nods as he comes closer. He whistles, and the arrow retreats. He takes another step. She can’t take it anymore; Indriza breaches the space between them and pounces, then almost falls onto him. She puts her arms around him and crashes her lips onto his. He grunts, then relaxes and slowly puts his arms around her, adjusting so that she is standing with him.

There is heat and hope and life in their kiss. There is passion and tenderness, urgency and pain. They have hurt one another again and again, for different reasons, and yet here they are.

He pulls away, but only his lips depart from her. His forehead is on hers, the front of his fin on the top of her head. “Ya left everythin’ behind...for me?” he asks.

She nods. “I had to,” she says.

“To save me.” He sighs, definitely does smell like Xandarian Whiskey. “But yer sister - yer second. The whole legacy of yer planet is on that ship.”

She nods, bringing his face with hers. “But you’re not, and for the last...however long it’s been since we met, that’s all that’s truly been missing from my life.”

“If ya don’ go back now, you’ll be on the run for the rest’a yer life,” he says.

“I don’t care,” she responds. “I don’t. If I’m with you, I’ll run until the end of days.”

“Don’ go threatenin’ nothin’ now,” he says, smiling. She notices that he’s gained a gold casing since the last time she’s seen him, but it suits his jagged smile.

“It’s a promise,” she says before kissing him again. She feels the scars on his head, his face, his neck, adoring how they match the feel of her own scars. Indriza is so happy in that moment, as she sighs, that she hardly notices Yondu slipping his tongue into her mouth.

There’s a small metal clank against the floor, and then his hands are at the collar of her light jacket, pushing it from her shoulders. She drops her arms from around him and lets the garment fall with his arrow, and then she is at him again, removing his coat. His toned arms are smoother than his face and neck, but not by much. She imagines hers are likewise patched, scars here and there, though the skin there is usually covered during combat.

Hands roam, pulling off shirts, pants, shoes, underwear. They move to the bed, hardly having to pull back from one another. His blue mixes with her purple. He bites into her skin, she moans and laughs, and he licks the wound before moving on, leaving kisses and bites all along her as he moves. Her fingers grasp at whatever she can reach - sometimes him, sometimes the bed, sometimes herself. They are a mess, but a happy, even euphoric mess.

While he is busy leaving marks along her neck and chest, one of his hands slides along her body, reaching her mound with ease. She spreads her legs and he runs two fingers down her heat, then pushes them into her. She gasps and lifts her hips to get him deeper. His thumb rubs her clit as his fingers move inside her. He smirks into their kiss, working efficiently without looking. She feels him sliding easily in her as she lets out moans in intervals, and knows she is sopping down there.

After a few minutes, Yondu releases his grip. Indriza pushes one side of her body up and flips them so that she straddles his midsection, surprising them both with how deft and quick she is. They both pant, but Yondu says, “Yer beautiful.”

She pulls the elastic from her hair and lets the braid unravel. Her long, dark locks fall over her; she pushes her part across her head and tucks some of the front hairs behind her ears so she can see him better. He reaches up and rolls some of her hair between his fingers.

“So beautiful,” he mutters.

She leans down so she is parallel to him, putting her arms on the sides of his head. “You are made of stars,” she says to him, sliding back to take his tip inside her. It is bigger than two of his fingers, but she is open and ready for him. She pushes herself back and sits, taking almost all of his length into her. They let out soft, guttural moans together, and even more when she moves, rocking back and forth above him. His hands roam her body, sometimes keeping her hips in place, sometimes playing with her dark nipples. She rides him, going faster and faster at his behest.

“Driza,” he calls, sending the first wave of pleasure into her center.

She is nowhere close to being done, but hearing him call her like she is giving him the most erotic pleasure he has ever felt does something to her. She leans down again, still pumping him in and out of her, this time to kiss him. She doesn’t realize how much she has missed his tongue on hers until it is back in its place, filling her mouth with the taste of his favorite whiskey.

With her still attached to him, he sits up himself. They stop their motion only briefly enough to readjust, and then they’re back to grinding into one another, faster now than before, and with louder noises coming from them both. From this closer proximity, Yondu is able to take one of her nipples in his mouth, the other in his hand. He moans more and more as he runs his teeth and fingers over her sensitive glands, earning back: “Yondu, love, ugh!”

She starts to feel the pressure in her pelvis build not long after. It’s a slow burn, gradual and pleasant. His mouth on her breast is hot and wet, but then again, so is most of her body. She has never felt this much with one person - other than Allura. Thankfully, she has no time to consider the woman, or rather no mental capacity to conceptualize her. Her brain is running on endorphins, and more and more are released the tighter she feels herself getting.

To make things even more spectacular, Yondu releases her breast from his hand and moves it to her clit again, using only his thumb to enhance the pumping. She moans almost the point of whining, cooing incoherent but lovely nothings into his ear as she comes closer and closer to her climax.

Just before she is over the edge, though, she forces him back. He falls against the bed, and she grabs his wrists. She leans forward and laces their fingers together as she continues moving, taking complete control of the situation. A few more pumps and - there it is. Her center seems to explode, and she sees the stars under her skin yearning to burst forth. She is hot - burning hot - and feels the universe in her veins as she bucks against him, contracting around his length.

“Oh stars,” she mutters as she comes down, her body still pounding.

As she comes to a halt, Yondu re-situates them again so that he is on top now, and continues to go. She knows he is close - he is cursing and mumbling, biting harder now, but she loves it. She feels that tension building again, quicker this time, as he comes in harder and faster than she had been before.

“Driza,” he says again. And again, “Driza. Driza. Dri…” He keeps going, and so does she.

Indriza wraps her legs around his waist as well as she can, pulling him in deeper. A few more fast pumps and she can feel another climax coming soon. They are practically yelling now, so caught up in the small, sweat-soaked universe around them. “Yondu, I,” she says, but she can’t finish her sentence.

They finish together this time, bucking together over and over. He is deeper in her than anyone she can remember being. Their noises lower in volume, though not in frequency. Not yet. Moans turn to heavy breaths, and then their muscles relax slowly. His arms give out and he falls onto her - they both let out breathy laughs, holding one another like the galaxy depends on it.

“Damn it, Driza,” he says, lifting his head to glance at her. “You’re so much more’n I expected.”

She smiles, puts her hands on his face, and guides him to hers. “You, Youndu, are the skies, the stars, and everything in between.” Then she kisses him, so satisfied that she has what she wanted for so long.

She has him. Yondu is hers, and she is his. This is all she needs.

Cross the Stars, part XI

part x, part xii

A/N: Okay so you got a really long one, a really short one, and now another kind of long one. But I really love this scene (not to toot my own horn).

Summary: Nightmares keep Indriza up, but she’s not the only one.

Words: 4,234

~~~

After the dancing and the Dirty Novas, Indriza finds it easy to fall asleep. Staying asleep is another story. Her mind takes control, terrorizing her with images of Omara falling onto her slowly, blaster pointed directly at her, a wild, almost animal look on her face.

“Beautiful Omara,” she says. “I raised you. I brought you into this world of ravagers, the United, and Stakar Ogord. And this is how you repay me?”

Omara screams and then: “You took me out of stable homes! You never found our brother! You disappointed me - you went soft over a child and an exile! And worst of all, you left me!”

“You didn’t listen,” Indriza insists.

“Listen to you grovel at the heels of a traitor? Listen to you insist at his innocence? Listen to you turn your back on your family?”

“You didn’t listen to your heart, Omara.”

“I have no heart. You made sure of that.”

And then, a blast from the gun. It grows white hot, larger and larger until it collides-

And then she is awake, sitting straight up, covered in her dark hair and cold sweat. Yondu barely stirs. He is deep in sleep, and she is wide awake. The darkness paralyzes her at first. She tries to catch her breath, to calm herself down, but only sees shadows move before her eyes.

She wonders if ghosts are real, if stardust collects and combines with the souls of the forgotten to haunt those that have forgotten them. She wonders if the shadows on the walls that she sees are her kin that perished with Axion, or her mother, or her father, or the brother that, as Omara so politely reminded her, she never found. He could still be alive, where Yondu was over a decade ago. But he could be dead, haunting her now, with the rest of their family. They could torment her for leaving her sister and abandoning the Axion faction. They would do more harm to her than Stakar Ogord could, in that case.

In some way, that thought calms her. So there’s a bounty on her head - what of it? If her dead family is more horrifying than Stakar Ogord, why should she fear him? Last she’d been told, the bounty required them to be alive upon delivery. Even if they were caught and traded, they would at least get to live that long, because Stakar Ogord was, apparently, merciful. Or he wanted something from them - but even that thought was less terrifying than imagining her mother’s ghost wringing her neck in the dark of the night.

She has to leave the room. Everyone on the ship is asleep - or so she hopes - but she needs to go somewhere with a light, where she won’t disturb too many people. She lips out of the bed, pulls on her trousers and a top, puts her knife in its holster, and leaves as quietly as possible. She even closes the door by hand, rather than letting it slide back into place, as to not wake Yondu. At least he seems to be having a better night than she is.

The metal of the ship is cold under her bare feet as she heads across the bridge. She has to tiptoe through big rooms and squeeze between walls, as the crew finds places to sleep wherever they can. The Elector is much less like a home than the Axion II is, but the ships and crews are different in size. The Elector is larger in both.

It’s so large that Indriza almost gets lost. This is, of course, after she nearly wakes a crewmember with long, stringy black hair that’s fallen into his mouth. She almost gags at the thought of sleeping like that, but moves on, especially when she hears...sobbing.

It’s not loud, but there isn’t much to absorb the sound this late at night. She follows its sound, guided only by emergency lights and broken flashlights no one has bothered to fix or turn off. She comes around a corner and finds the blinding light of the kitchen is on - not the commissary, but the kitchen itself.

She comes up to the push door and looks through the dirty window. Peter Quill is against the far wall, his legs drawn up to his face, hands securing them there with his fingers clasped at the front. She opens her eyes wider to see through the grime on the window and sees that he has his Terran music mechanism with him - the box part sits on the floor of the kitchen, attached to the head...what did he call them? Headphones? Those are over his ears, large and orange, as he bobs either in time with the music or because of his crying.

It’s been so long since she’s seen a child like this. Yes, her faction was known for their compassion to children and those otherwise destitute, but she had been relegated to only thieving during her last little while on the Axion II. She almost misses the sight of a crying child, misses the feeling of helping them. So she pushes the door open and hears how loud his Terran music is. He doesn’t notice her at first.

She and Peter Quill have not had a real conversation since she arrived on the Elector. He is never far from Yondu or Kraglin, and neither is she. She’s never really gotten a moment to speak to him alone before now, to get to know him as Peter Quill, not a Terran child of Ego.

She approaches him slowly, knowing that he is, in fact, a child of a Celestial. He may not know what that means or even necessarily remember that day on Ubraa-10, but she does. Perhaps he has not unlocked his powerful potential, or even knows he has it, but she wants to be safe. She already has enough to worry her out of sleep.

When she is about two feet away, Peter’s head shoots up from behind his legs. He squints up at her. She watches his pupils dilate, his vision focus on her. Before he says anything, he takes a deep breath and wipes his face on the sleeves of his ratty plaid shirt.

Indriza sits against the cabinets next to him and folds her legs over one another. She doesn’t smile, but stays as calm as she can. Peter removes his head...phones, placing them around his neck, and breathes through his mouth.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks him.

He shakes his head, but says nothing. She sees that his eyes are red and bloated, his nose also discolored from irritation, it seems.

“Me neither,” she whispers.

He breathes heavily for a few beats, then asks, “Why?”

She isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking about, so she answers the only way she can think to. “Night terrors.”

He shakes his head again. “Why are they coming for us?” he asks.

Her face drops, and her eyes widen. She wants to reach out to him, for she knows the power of touch, but she refrains. “No one is coming for you,” she tells him.

“They’re coming for you. And Yondu. And me and Kraglin and the whole crew and-”

She can’t listen to him ramble. Her heart won’t bear it. “No,” she says, then shushes. She even reaches out and rubs his back, to which he only flinches once, and then allows her to continue. “They won’t have us. Yondu and I aren’t going anywhere.”

She knows a little bit of what the boy means to Yondu. Her Centaurian has no family outside of the Elector now, after having no family his whole life. He risked everything for the child, and countless others, but this one...he kept. He may threaten to eat the child at least twice a day, or threaten to let someone or something else eat him, but she knows better than to believe those empty words. Peter may not, she knows, because he is so young, but she knows that this Terran is special to Yondu. She just doesn’t know exactly why except that he is kind, enthusiastic, and made of pure light. She doesn’t quite know what Yondu means to Peter in return.

“Everyone leaves,” he whimpers suddenly.

Her hand stalls on his back, but does not disengage. “What?” she asks.

“Everyone leaves me.” He leans forward, as if his stomach is causing him too much pain to bear. “Daddy left ‘fore I was born. Mama left before I came here.” He pushes himself up quickly and looks at her. “You and Yondu are gonna leave me, too.”

She shakes her head and moves her hand from his back to his face. He doesn’t flinch, so she softly wipes the tears away from his eyes and strokes his soft freckled cheeks. “No, never,” she says.

“‘S what Mama said. She still left,” he replies.

She sighs, and resolutely decides that now is as good a time as any to open up to someone other than Yondu. Part of her cabin fever is grounded in loneliness, but if she made more friends...it was a funny thought to have as a ravager, but not an invalid one.

“My mother left me, too,” she says. “When I was sixteen. She had a kind of cell in her body that ate other cells, and it killed her.” This is the first time she can remember telling the story since telling Allura, almost seven years ago. She keeps her Axion family close to her, rarely shares her history, and thinks of her mother’s passing even less.

“Cancer?” he asks, turning to face her completely.

She nods.

“Mama had a tumor,” he says. Peter lifts a hand and points at her head. “There. Lost her hair from the medicine. Grandaddy said she went loopy before she passed.”

“Loopy?” she asks, looking at his finger, still pointed at her head.

“Talked about stars. Said my Daddy was from the stars, that he’d come for me one day. That I was her Star Lord. I thought Yondu was my Daddy at first, ‘cause he took me the same night.”

She looks at him, but he is in a trance, staring at her forehead still. Her heart breaks for him - so young, mother gone, father...not what he seems, lost in space with a ravager crew that only has itself for resources. At least she had her sister, and until recently, the full force of the United at her disposal if she needed it.

She grabs his finger and holds it in her hand. He is cool to the touch, and her warmth breaks him out of his trance. “Do you think she was loopy?” she asks.

Peter shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

She smiles at him.

“You’re warm,” he says.

“You’re cool,” she says back.

He raises an eyebrow. “Who are you?” he asks slowly. “I know who you are really, but...I don’t know you.”

She almost tells him that she doesn’t either, sometimes, but actually says: “I’m a ravager. I’m from a planet called Axion.”

“Are all the people from your planet purple?” he asks.

She nods. “Most are. Some of the people that came to my planet were Kree escapists and even a few Xandarians. But you saw my sister - she’s purple too.”

He nods then. “A lot of Earth...Terran people are white like me. A lot aren’t, too.”

“You’re not white. You’re pink.”

“We call it white on Earth.”

“Why?” she asks.

His brows furrow and he looks away from her briefly. “I...actually don’t know. Huh,” he says.

“Well, what other colors are there on Terra? Or Earth, as you call it?”

He focuses on her again. “Some people are black, but their skin is actually brown. All shades of brown, too. Some have tan skin, some have really really white skin-”

“Whiter than yours?” she asks, all seriousness on her face.

He takes it as a joke, laughing as he nods. “Depends on where people live and who their parents are.”

“Why?” she asks.

“You don’t have a sun on your planet?” he asks.

She pauses, and then: “My planet doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Oh,” he says quietly. He looks at their hands, hers still holding his. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t cause the core to erupt,” she whispers. “We didn’t know it, but the planet was a ticking timebomb. We wouldn’t have been able to save it if we wanted to.”

He takes a moment to process the information. “You don’t think Earth will erupt, do you?”

She giggles. “No,” she says, her voice shaky with giddiness. “I think Terra is stable from the inside. From what I know, the outside could use some help, though.”

“Good,” he sighs. He looks at the ground, pulls his music box to him, and thinks for a while. Finally he asks, “How did you become a ravager? You seem too nice to be one.”

She shrugs. “We’re all different.” She thinks of reaching for his box, just to have something to hold onto, but decides against it. The thing is his and his alone. Even Yondu hasn’t touched it, that she’s seen. It’s his reminder of home, and she won’t be the one to take that away from him.

“Like I said, I was sixteen when my mother died. I had a little sister to care for and a whole galaxy that was ready to eat us up.”

His eyes widen then, and she remembers Yondu’s threats.

“Not really. But we were two kids alone in the universe, and we weren’t shown a lot of kindness. Until we met a man who was already a ravager. He wanted to create a community of ravagers so that no faction would be left in the dust by the others. I think he’d watched too many of his brothers die that way.”

She briefly wonders if her words are age appropriate, but Peter doesn’t cower from her. He stays attentive, fondling his music box close to his chest.

“This man promised me and my sister shelter, safety, food, and all we had to do was steal things for him. Pretty things. Shiny things, things that people would give to cute kids if they were distracted enough.”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like things I’m sure Yondu’s had you look for,” she says. “Rings, intel chips. Sometimes he just wanted information. See, this man...he is...was sneaky. He liked to be in charge, and the way for him to do that was to know everything.”

“Is this the same man that saved Yondu?” Peter asks.

Indriza smiles and nods. “It is. He saved me and my sister, too. I was a scared girl, just like Yondu was a scared boy once.”

“I’ve never seen Yondu scared. He’s mostly angry and...mean, except when you’re around. And hungry, I think.” He shrugs.

She cups his face again. “Yondu is a lot of things that you don’t always see, Peter,” she says quietly. “He is angry and mean a lot of the time, but have you seen his crew?”

They both laugh at that. When their joy recedes, she continues.

“Yondu is also kind, caring, and brave. Most of all, he is brave - but you have to know fear to be brave. Otherwise, you become ambitious and corrupt.”

“That must be why you like him,” Peter says.

She tilts her head a bit, her smile stretching across her face. Indriza feels a blush climbing up her neck and into her face as she nods. “That’s part of the reason I like him, yes.”

“What’s the other part?”

She bites her lip, unsure of what to say. She knows what her answer is: she loves Yondu especially because of his compassion towards Peter. But to tell the child that, she would have to tell him the story of his origin for it to make any sense, and she will not be the one to burden him with that. It isn’t her story to tell.

“He protects the people that mean the most to him. Sometimes silently, sometimes violently, but you and me and even Kraglin? We’ll be well taken care of for the rest of our days.”

“You’re sure ‘bout that?” he asks.

Indriza nods. “I wouldn’t be here if I believed otherwise.”

“Kraglin says you came to save Yondu, not the other way ‘round.”

“You’re very perceptive,” she says, turning her head to wink at him. “And Kraglin is right. I left my faction to save Yondu from the man who once saved him.”

“What does that man want?” Peter asks.

She knows she’s said too much now. Either she will have to tell Peter everything, or nothing at all. She’d send him to bed worried and maybe even more scared than he already is.

“Is he the reason you can’t sleep?” she asks.

Peter nods.

“Me too,” she whispers, deciding that she can tell him...some things. For his own sake and safety. She isn’t sure how Yondu will react, but her gut tells her that Peter needs to know some things.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

She sighs. “First, you must know that Yondu does not keep you as a prisoner. Things are not...ideal on the Elector, I admit, but he watches out for you, and not to keep you from running.”

“Is that man after him because of me?”

She has to lie. There is no other choice. She shakes her head, rather than saying no. Instead she says, “Yondu made a mistake. A big mistake. He needed units to build his faction, but in doing so, he got in trouble with the man that’s looking for us- uh. Him. Because this man is in charge of the United - the community of ravagers - he exiled Yondu. Do you know what that means?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

She gives him a sad, sullen look. “It means...that Yondu is no longer a part of the community. Officially. He is not technically a ravager.”

“Then what is he?”

“According to the man looking for him, a pirate.”

“But pirates are cool!” he says.

She has to giggle at that. Even in his worry, this small Star Lord is funny. “They are,” she agrees. “But not to the United. To them, Pirates are dishonest and evil. Sometimes the United doesn’t care about pirates, but when they used to be ravagers, it’s a big deal.”

Peter nods. “So...now that you’re here, are you a pirate too?” he asks.

She breathes deep. Saying it will make it real, but it’s been weeks. She made her decision. She can’t look back and regret it now, when there is no returning to the Axion II. “Yes,” she says, having to choke back tears before Peter. She can’t let him see how upset this makes her. She’s afraid it will confuse his perception of Yondu, which she wants to preserve as a good thing within him.

“You need an eyepatch,” he says, shrugging.

“Do I?” she asks, forcing herself to smile again.

Peter nods. “All good pirates have eyepatches!”

“What is the use of it?” she asks.

“Mama told me they use it to adjust to light better. On ships back on Earth, there’s this thing called a cabin. Pirates used ships with cabins under the bridge, so their cabins were really dark but the deck was really bright because of the sun. so they would keep one eye covered on deck, and then when they went to the cabins, they would switch the eyepatch because-”

“The other eye has adjusted to the dark! Of course!” she says, excited now. “Wow, pirates are cool.”

“I tol’ ya so,” he says.

She nods, and then a silence falls over them. Peter hits a button on his box that has a triangular shaped button, and even from their distance, she can hear the melodies that flow from his headphones. The song plays for a bit, and Peter closes his eyes. At some point he starts to sing softly: “Come and get your love…”

After a few verses, Indriza decides she wants to know what Terran music is like, and why it means so much to him. She clears her throat. “Peter, do you think...could I maybe…”

“You wanna listen?” he asks.

She nods. He pulls the headphones from around his neck and hands them to her. She’s seen him wear them over his own ears, so she puts them over her head and jumps at how loud the music is. It’s not unpleasant, though. She listens to the lyrics, to the beat, to the instruments.

“Do you like it?” she hears just barely over it. Peter is kneeling in front of her, waiting for her reaction.

Indriza smiles and nods, then bops along to the music. The words get repetitive, but not annoyingly so. When the song ends, she takes the headphones off and hands them back to Peter.

“That was fun,” she says.

“It was one of my Mama’s favorite songs,” he says. “She made me this mix before she got sick. I think she made another one but…” He looks at the music box in his lap.

She leans over to see his eyes, which are almost closed. “But?” she asks softly, trying to encourage him to talk to her.

He looks up at her after a few seconds, his mouth open, breaths heavy. “I don’t wanna open it.”

She doesn’t have to ask why. She lost her mother, too, after all. Her mother may have not given her music or even a parting gift - which was fine - but she had left Indriza with Omara, who was younger and more vulnerable. For a while, she could hardly look at Omara; she tiptoed around her sister, glanced only when she had to, and otherwise distanced herself. Indriza had to learn how to deal with their mother’s death when Omara threatened to run away because Stakar Ogord treated her with more regard than her own sister did. But Peter didn’t have a sister, he had a music box and an unopened rectangle to play in it. He could put off facing the pain of reality as long as he could stay his curiosity about what’s on that other rectangle.

She puts her palm against his cheek again and says, “That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything with it until you want to.”

She doesn’t know if she has some kind of empathic ability or something, but Indriza feels as if they have an understanding between them now. They were both orphans, both having to deal with a lonely life in space. She had been in his place once, and she had finally been able to tell him that.

He leans against her hand as his eyes gloss with tears. She wonders if anyone has ever told him that his fear is valid, but she knows how important it is. He’s so young, so bright-eyed, and so terrified of his situation. He has to know that one day, that fear will be overcome, and he will be all the stronger for it. Maybe he doesn’t know all of that now, but that doesn’t stop him from almost scaring her as he jumps up and crawls into her lap. He lets the tears fall from his eyes only after his head is against her shoulder.

She’s done this before, with Omara, and many orphans across the galaxy. There was once a time when her faction donated units to orphanages on outlying planets to help find them homes and give them better lives, but since Omara took over - and even a bit earlier than that - that ended. Maybe she can make up for the time and units lost by rocking Peter slowly, allowing his cool skin to be warmed by hers.

They stay like that for a while, his music playing softly from his headphones. Eventually, Peter falls asleep against her, but she is still very much awake. She realizes that she doesn’t actually know where Peter’s room is, has never been there before - and the ship is so vast, it could be anywhere. She doesn’t want to wake him or even move him, really, but the floor of the kitchen is far from comfortable.

She resolves to pick him up as carefully as possible, but first she puts his headphones over his ears and places his music box in one of his pockets. Then, with as much care and effort as she can, she supports Peter with her arms and pushes her feet out from under her, then lifts them both. Her legs jolt after having been folded for so long, so she waits to move until the feeling is mostly gone.

She takes him to the one place she knows of, where he won’t be bothered or threatened: Yondu’s room. Her Centaurian is still sleeping, facing the wall, so she puts Peter on the bed beside him, more on her side of the bed than his. Neither of them stir as she gently gets into the bed and sits against the wall behind it. From there, she watches as they breathe, together and apart, and she can’t help but feel her heart swell.

This feels right, she thinks. It feels like home. Like family. And she is horrified at the possibility of it being taken from her by the man she had once idolized.