summary: a demon has been killing college students, tempting them with the promise of their deepest desires and the promise of their enemies dead. dean falls victim to the demons tricks and ends up giving into his own desires.
warnings: smut, descriptions of killing, demon reader, death of civilians, reader lowkey does not care for the people shes murdered
w/c: 2.85k
a/n: @theangelofletters lowk inspired me to get back into writing, i love her writing so much, so we can thank her for this
"It reeks of sulfur here, Dean." Sam choked out, pointedly covering his nose with his shirt to get the smell of rotten eggs out of his airways.
"Well we know it's definitely a demon killing all these people. Question is, why?" Dean said, standing up from his previous position, leaned over a freshly gutted young man.
Sam hummed in thought, nodding to the officer on duty. "This definitely isn't the work of a hellhound, and I don't think Crowley wants to risk sending out demons to kill so– well, haphazardly." He said, walking towards Baby.
"So what do you think? Demon gone rogue?" Dean asked, following suit, loosening the burgundy tie hung around his neck.
Around two days ago, the two boys had gotten a call from a hunter positioned in the quaint city of Corvallis, Oregon, home to the Oregon State Beavers. Apparently, some sort of entity was slicing and dicing civilians in the area, leaving no sort of trace of human malice. Unfortunately, their informant and fellow hunter, James, had been injured in a wendigo hunt north of Portland and was pretty much bedridden, so the boys were first on his list to call.
"Well, I don't see any sort of other way that these killings could happen so that's our best guess." Sam said, shaking his head as he got in the car. "I just don't get why a demon would do this. None of the victims have anything in common, apart from going to OSU, and that isn't enough to base any sort of real connection out of."
Dean sighed, turning on the ignition, Baby roaring to life. "Alright, we'll head back to the motel, you hit the books, I'll call up Bobby to see if he has any sort of clue as to what the hell is going on here."
"Oh I'm sure the boys are on my trail by this point. That, or I've completely overestimated their competence– which, by the stories that I've heard of the Winchester boys, could either be completely possible, or not at all." You said into the cellphone, eyes on the sleek black car rolling out of the sorority driveway, sarcasm quite evident in your tone.
"No, they haven't tried anything yet. I'll update you if they get close."
The demons Crowley had chosen to be his so-called "Second in command" were the most daft, incompetent pieces of shit you had ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Why Crowley thought he was too prestigious to deal with you himself, you had no idea. This all would go so much smoother if you didn't have to relay messages through each one of his minions.
Your next target was Seth McFarlane, a 20 year old college student at Oregon State University. Seth was a great kid– 4.0 GPA, on the football team, had a girlfriend and his whole life planned ahead of him. The perfect candidate. You had to throw the boys off obviously, with your previous targets all being men who had "enemies" that they needed to be taken care of. You came to them, offered them a way to rid themselves of these enemies, with no cost at all, then had those boys killed at the same time the deal was made.
All of this needed to lead back to you. Which is why you didn't bother trying to stop the trails of sulfur left in your wake after your kills. You wanted to meet the famous "demon killing" boys after all. Poor Seth was just– collateral damage.
"Hey, Dean, Bobby give you anything useful?" Sam spoke, head not moving from the screen of his laptop as the door to the motel swung open.
"He's just as lost as we are. Brought back some food." He said, dumping a plastic bag full of greasy burgers and fries on the table Sam sat at. "What about you, any luck?"
"Well, kind of. So get this, our most recent victim, Elijah Lopez, had a pretty well known fallout with a fellow teammate on the college football team, where that teammate just so conveniently got mauled by a 'bear' quote unquote. And both victims before him also had feuds with someone in their lives, whether it be an ex-girlfriend, or a petty coworker." Sam said, looking up, only to search through the bag for anything even remotely not covered in grease.
"And?" Dean said, yanking the bag away from him, handing him a different, less oily looking wrapped burger.
"And, so all of their enemies ended up passing away tragically at least a week before the victim died." Sam turned the laptop towards Dean so he could see what Sam dug up.
"The demon Malphas. She makes a promise to rid you of your enemies, killing them, and later on the person that made the deal with her." Sam said, unwrapping the veggie burger Dean specifically bought for him.
"So, what's the catch for her deals? Does she tell the poor guy that makes the deal with her that they're gonna end up demon chow or what?" Dean turns the laptop back towards Sam, bringing out his own dinner from the bag.
Sam shakes his head, "Well, obviously not. The deal is way too good to be true, so I'm guessing the catch that she doesn't tell you, is that you'll be dead within weeks of your enemies death. The killings have to be Malphas– the sulfur left at the scenes can't lead to anything else but the work of a demon, so who else could it be but her?"
"Huh. So what's our plan to gank the bitch?" Dean says, muffled over the sound of him scarfing down the double baconater burger he'd bought for dinner.
Sam once again turns the laptop towards Dean, trying to avoid it touching any of the sauce dropped out of his burger. "Well, she can be summoned by drawing this sigil, etched in copper, and burning an offering."
"What kind of offering?" Dean asks, worried that it'll be his head offered up on a plate for her.
"Any sort of valuable gift. Apparently she isn't picky." Sam says, snatching the laptop away before Dean could put his nasty, burger grease fingers on it.
"Right. So what's the plan?"
You could feel yourself being summoned. Just a few seconds longer and you could see who it was. You were obviously hoping it was one of the Winchesters, or even both the boys for an extra treat.
Ah yes, Dean Winchester, the aforementioned Demon Killer. The tall one was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, one is better than nothing.
With a big puff of smoke, you disappeared from the warehouse you were squatting in, only to be greeted by the walls of another dirty, dingy warehouse.
"Malphas?" Dean asked cautiously, portraying the role of civilian whom stumbled upon a way to rid of his enemy well.
"Oh please, don't call me that. I didn't get to choose that name, you know? Satan gave it to me. I was never really quite fond of it. Doesn't have a nice ring to it." You sigh, as you figured Dean would not be getting straight to the fighting part.
"Oh– right then. What do I call you then?" He asks, taking a small step back as you step out of the sigil marked on the floor.
"Whatever you like, darling." You smiled. "Now, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"
Something happened to Dean when he heard the word "gorgeous" come out of those beautiful lips you had. Or rather, the beautiful lips of the meat suit you'd stolen for this interaction. Whatever it was, it provoked some sort of reaction from him.
"I uh, heard you could help make some... people in my way disappear. For a long time." He said, pulling out a tattered library book with your sigil at the front.
"Hmm- yes. That is true. But that's not why I'm here, is it?" You say. You could hear Sam and some other hunter, presumably their mentor, Robert Singer, outside the door to the warehouse behind you.
"I- what?" Dean asked, trying to mask the confusion in his voice at your words.
"Oh please Dean. I'm not stupid." You laughed as the doors to the warehouse tore open, Sam and Bobby running in to take you by surprise. Only to disappear.
"What the hell?" Dean's eyes widened, hands reaching behind his back for the demon blade. No demon could do that to someone, right? In all their books about demonology and the beings of hell, never had it ever said anywhere of making people vanish out of thin air.
"Where the hell did you send my brother?" Dean almost growled, pulling the blade out from where it was hidden.
"Oh, not far. Just in a little town somewhere in... I think it was, Rhode Island? Not too far." You grinned.
Rhode Island was on the complete other end of America.
"How did you do that?" Dean asked, taking a step towards you, blade out.
"Hmm, lets not waste time on things that don't need time wasted on, shall we?" You said, not moving an inch as Dean moved to inevitably kill you. Or, give it his best shot at killing you.
“My boss, Crowley, has taken a special interest in you two boys. And I was tasked with tricking you two to bring you back to him. Whether it was whole, or in pieces, he didn’t quite specify. That part was uh, left to me.” You say, walking around Dean, as he grips the blade tightly in his hand.
“So that’s why all the killings started. These boys didn’t even summon you, did they?” Dean asked, the pieces all clicking into place.
“Mmm, yes. I showed up to these boys in the form of their deepest desires, and asked them myself if there was anyone I could ‘take care of’ for them.” You admitted to Dean. “The– clause in the contract was not necessary to discuss.”
The intensity of your gaze made Dean want to shrink, not that he would admit that to anyone, much less himself. You were a filthy demon, who had also just sent his brother and the closest thing he had to a father to God knows where.
You never took your eyes off Dean’s, not even to look at the blade gripped in his right hand that could so easily take your life, if Dean were to successfully use it on you.
“So you just killed those kids? Aren’t Crowley's demons supposed to heed to his ‘contracts’?”
“I don’t like taking orders. Especially not from Crowley, no. Hell has been in chaos ever since Lucifer got sent to the cage. Not that I particularly enjoyed old Lucy’s company either. But he was more lenient towards me, seeing as to how loyal I once was to him.” You rambled on, stopping in front of Dean.
“But between us, I never really liked him either. Now that he’s gone, Crowley really has no control over me, so I can kill whomever I want, whenever I want. And have some fun along the way.” You say, stepping closer to Dean.
“And, I haven’t really had some fun in a while, Dean.” Your hand moves to take the blade out of his hand, retracting back to your side as he jerks it in front of him in defence.
“So tell me Dean. What’s your deepest desire?” You asked, eyes becoming pure black as your tone dropped lower, tilting your head to the side.
“Is it… for you and little Sammy to be ‘normal’? No… you gave up on normal a long time ago. Or is it–” Your words get cut off as you feel the cold, sharp edge of the demon blade pressing up against your throat, making you sandwiched in between the warmth of Dean’s body and the cold, steel walls of the warehouse.
“Shut up, bitch.” Dean says, with an almost dangerous edge to his voice.
“Hmm, Sam is a touchy subject for you.” You smirk at the shocked look on his face once he realizes that the only object keeping him from having a chance against you has disappeared out of his hand. He immediately takes a step back from you, the pressure on your body gone.
“What the hell are you?” He says, backing up as you push off the wall, dusting yourself off.
“You know what I am, Dean. You’ve just never dealt with someone as– different as me before.” You say as the black in your eyes disappears. “Now, back to my question.”
“What is your desire?”
You.
The thought left as quickly as it came into Dean’s head, but by then it was far too late.
“Me? Really? And here I thought a Winchester would never think this way of a demon.” You say, stepping close to Dean.
“But your mind fights it. Because I’m a dirty, filthy demon. The scum of the Earth. And you’re so angelic yourself. Something like me could never corrupt a pure soul like yours.” You speak, tone taking on a mocking edge as your hand moves to grip Dean’s face to tilt his head down to look directly into your eyes.
“Don’t you want to feel free Dean? I’m sure I can’t ruin you as much as you have done so to yourself. Your soul is tattered. Give in to something you finally deserve.” You say as your other hand comes up to caress his cheek.
“No– You’re–” Dean’s words get cut off as you press your lips to his in an almost searing kiss, something lighting in Dean that he almost had never felt before. This was so, so wrong. You were right, you were a demon, and the thought of your lips on his was almost revolting. But then why did he enjoy it so much?
He walked you back till your back hit the steel wall where he had held you up almost minutes before, your hands threading through his hair, tugging on it when he bites your lip. The moan he let out was filthy, and it sent feelings through your meat suit that made you crave more.
Your hands trailed down his body, reaching down to the buckle of his belt. “Now I don’t have much time to make this a whole thing Dean…” You say, as your hands unbuckle the belt, zipping down his jeans. Dean could barely get words out, the feeling of your hand in his hair, lips against his, and now your hand on his aching cock almost too much for him already.
He managed out a half moaned “okay”, before he assisted you with pulling his pants and boxers down, his length springing out, the tip leaking with pre-cum. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your hand went around his cock to give it a few teasing pumps as your tongue slipped into his mouth, his own hands moving to hold you up against the wall. He moaned into your mouth as you moved it up and down his length, his right hand moving to the zipper of your jeans.
He unzipped your pants and your hand retreated from around him, earning a whine from his mouth.
“Shh, don’t you wanna finish inside me?” You asked, moving your fingers to his jaw, your index and middle finger slipping inside his mouth as he moaned, nodding yes. “Mmm, that’s what I thought.”
You allowed Dean to slowly slip his cock inside your dripping wet pussy, moaning at just the tip as his hands tighten around your thighs, still holding you up. He thrusted in and out of you, the noises falling from his mouth getting louder in volume as he began to speed up. Your hands found their way back into his hair, tugging as the pressure in your lower stomach began to build up.
“Fuck– I’m gonna..” Dean panted.
“Shh… it’s okay.” You cooed, your own hand going down to your clit to add more stimulation for you. “You can come darling.”
As those words left your mouth, Dean came inside you, letting out a guttural moan as his head dropped down to your shoulder, his own seed inside you triggering your own orgasm.
And you were gone. Dean’s head was suddenly resting against the cold wall you had rested against, his hands empty of your warm body. He turned his back to the wall, eyes still shut to come down from the high he was just on.
Sam and Bobby.
His eyes shot open, and he quickly zipped up his pants, looking around the warehouse for you. But you were gone. And his demon blade lay in the middle of the sigil he had drawn for you, what seemed to be ages ago for him.
He had to go find Sam and Bobby.
At least you told him what state they’d be in.
looking for supernatural moots!!! and new taglist for my spn readers. reply to this asking to be added to my taglist or request!
it really, really pisses me off when a writers entire blog is so blatantly ai, yet they still have so many people interacting with their posts and praising them for their "writing".
i genuinely feel crazy thinking im the only one who can tell that its ai. please just write fics on your own its always better than that slop and I CAN TELL ITS AI IF YOU USE IT.
If women aren’t allowed to have abortions: then men aren’t allowed to have orgasms.
If a man has an orgasm, where does his junk go?
Sock.
Toilet
His tummy
Tissues
Why aren’t we thinking of the LITERAL THOUSANDS of unborn sperm cells that can be used to impregnate women, and create life. It sees only fair to me. A woman’s orgasm doesn’t have semen or sperm cells… really deeply think of all those unborn babies who’re just being tossed in the trash or swallowed or in the toilet.
Men should only be allowed to orgasm if there is an intent that the woman wants to have a child with him. If she doesn’t want a child with him, then he doesn’t get to orgasm! You know… since abortion kills babies then so does men cumming I outside of a woman.
No condoms allowed either. If she doesn’t wanna procreate then YOURE FUCKED DUDE! (and not like literally…) it’s all or nothing baby. Then we’ll really see what happens.
(Random tags for views and cause that’s what my page is about (supernatural) lol)
a/n: wow ok nonnie just boss me around would you. i really shouldn't reward this type of behavior. a thank you would be nice.
2:43pm — Common Room (English)
Scott Barringer was bored out of his mind. You couldn't blame him, really. Roger really knew how to make an English lesson boring.
As part of the curriculum at Mount Horizon, the Cliffhangers were currently undergoing their Shakespeare unit in English. Which, unfortunately meant reading the entirety of Romeo and Juliet.
The last thing Scott wanted to be doing on a snow day of all things. Outside, a fresh sheet of snow had just fallen, covering each building, path, and tree in a pure white coat.
Inside, it was warm— the huge fireplace doing it's job well enough for you all to not be able to feel the cold whatsoever.
"Hey-" Scott quietly tried to get your attention from next to him on the big couch. No response.
This reading would contribute to an end of semester test, requiring you to finish the whole book to be adequately versed on each question. You desperately needed to up your English grades if you wanted to get out of here.
"Come on, I know you're listening." He said, beginning to nudge your arm with his elbow.
Ugh. The Barringer persistence. The moment he had his mind set on something, (which he obviously does right now) there would be no end of it until he got his way.
"Oh my god Scott— what is it now?" You say, peering over your copy of Romeo and Juliet to find the blonde giving you the kicked puppy look.
"I'm bored."
"Are you kidding me—" a quick pause to pretend you were reading as Roger does a round of the room. "Yeah, it's silent reading, no shit it's boring!" You whisper-yell once he leaves.
"Then let's leave!" He said, making it oh so obvious that he wasn't reading right now, causing Roger to turn around and give him the "look".
Quickly picking up his book and pretending to read, he continued. "No one's gonna notice if we slip out of here for a bit."
"Scott– I need to finish this book. I also want to get an actually good mark this term, so stop bothering me." You say firmly.
Which doesn't work on him. How nice.
He now results to the tactic of annoying you for attention. Kicking your foot with his, tapping on your thigh, sighing just audibly enough for you to hear.
"Scott. Stop it. Seriously." You say, putting the book down.
"Come outside with me. Then I will."
"Scott— I just told you I won't!"
"Please.. just for like a bit. I swear to you, ill spend however long you need to finish this book with you tonight during our free time." He pleaded.
And maybe it was working. A small break now couldn't hurt. And you could always finish reading tonight.
"I just wanna spend time with you... you're always sooo busy now."
And finally, the guilt tactic.
"I am not busy— Ugh. You know what. Fine." You cave in.
"If we get caught, im saying you forced me, and you can sit alone cleaning the kitchens."
The grin that spread across his face was so apparent, you'd think he just won the lottery or something.
And so, after a long time of waiting for Roger to turn around, he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the commons. Thank god that none of the people in the Cliffhangers were snitches.
Making it out of that room was like a whiff of freedom for Scott.
Then the chill hit.
Scott, being Scott, decided he didn't need another jacket, a sweater would suffice.
You saw the way his cheeks and nose turned red, and the slight shivers that ran through his spine.
"Feeling a little cold are you, Barringer?" You tease.
"Hah, no way. Come on." He lies, taking your hand in order to distract you. His freezing cold hand.
Rolling your eyes, you followed, stuffing the other hand into your warm, insulated, jacket that you were smart enough to wear.
You eventually figured where he was taking you, down a small path that lead to the creek, and a shabby, makeshift soccer oval.
Making it down, the creek was frozen solid, and the goalposts had a layer of snow covering up the metal.
Searching around in the snow, Scott finds the dingy soccer ball discarded from the last play, and throws it at you.
You, observing the lovely scenery– is snapped out of it by having a snow covered ball hurled at your back by your incredible boyfriend.
"What is wrong with you??" You say, bending down to pick up the ball with your now gloved hands. Your smartly gloved hands. Because you weren't stupid and knew it would be cold out.
"Let's play. Just casual." He grins.
"No chance. Last time I saw you play 'casual', Ezra ate the ground, and Auggie refused to play again because you kept tackling them." You say, arms crossed.
"Oh come on, I'll go super nice on you. No touching, and I'll let you have the ball after every goal." He says, taking a few steps towards you in order to snatch the ball out of your hands.
"Please? First to 10. And you start with an extra 2 goals." He said, setting the ball down in the middle.
"God— fine. But if I end up on the floor, or in any way covered in snow, im never playing with you again." You sigh, walking over to the center.
"See, this is why I love you." Even after a while, the words still brought a grin to your face.
"Alright. Don't be too angry when I beat your ass." You say, standing at the ball.
"Uh.. yeah... okay." He says in confidence.
———
7 goals to Scott.
2 goals to you. The two that you got as a headstart.
Your cheeks were flushed, nose red, and your head was even more determined to score.
Looking up as you set down the ball for another round, you see Scott shiver again.
"The cold finally getting to you?" You ask again, knowing he'd say no.
"Not at all. You're seeing things. Maybe its to cope with losing so badly to me." He says as you scoff.
Once again, you kick the ball towards his own goal, dribbling towards his end, when as usual, he steals the ball off you.
But this time, (by pure accident) your reflex to get it back actually worked, your leg darting out to get it back from between his feet.
Kneeing him in a place that... probably hurt a lot for a specific reason.
"Augh!" Scott involuntarily voiced, doubling over, as you took the opportunity to kick the ball towards the goal.
And it went in.
"Yes!!" You screamed, arms raised. You paid no mind to the boy behind you currently keeling over in soreness.
"I scored!" You say, facing him and jumping up and down and clapping.
"—yeah—ow.. you did. I— ow. I see that." He managed to say.
Still reveling in your victory, you leave Scott to brood (in pain) opting to go retrieve the ball instead.
"Wanna go another round?" You say, standing over him, ball in hand.
"No thanks." He groans, standing up straight.
"Right, because I'm so good, you're scared to play with me again." You nod.
"No, thats not—"
"Right, right, I know. I'm just too good!" You grin, walking back to your goal.
"What, I don't agree with that! You—" He said.
"No need to hide it, it's alright, I know how you truly feel— hey!" A snowball to the back of your head.
Turning around in utter offense, you see him coming closer with another snowball.
"No— Scott stop, I don't wanna get—"
Smack.
"Okay that's it." You say, using your gloved hands to scoop up your own ball of snow.
"Hey, wait, I'm not wearing a jacket!" He panics, coming towards you.
"You should have thought of that before you threw that at me." You say, throwing it at his chest.
He didnt stop walking.
"Scott, don't even try it."
"Scott, I'm serious."
"Scott stop—" And you both were on the ground.
"Get off me! You're so heavy." You say, trying to roll him off, then realizing he wasn't wearing anything warm to face the snow in (stupid boy), and deciding to accept your fate.
"You're really warm. And cuddly." He said, resting his forehead on yours.
"Because I actually choose to wear appropriate clothing for the weather, Scott."
"Yeah well. I don't need to. I can just hug you or something."
"That's not how this works."
"Alright. Then push me off." He says.
He knows you won't.
"That's what I thought."
"So that's where you two ran off to." The unmistakable voice of Sophie rung out.
"I hope this little escape was worth scrubbing the kitchen floors for a week." She says, before turning off and returning to her duties.
"You're kidding me." Scott groans, rolling off you.
OOOO yay okay, what about a fic where scott and reader are in the same class and he uses literally ANY excuse to talk to her—like asking for a pencil, copying homework answers, maybe even asking for her number so they can share “notes” 😛
also can i be your 🫧 anon :3
~ puppy love 🫧
highschool!au scott barringer x reader 🫧
(req)
summary: scott is down bad for you, and it is painfully obvious to everyone– except for you. he does anything and everything to get your attention, but you fail to see his actual intentions behind his constant bothering.
warnings: none really, slight swearing maybe
a/n: for the lovely 🫧, i am so so sorry it took me ages to get this out.. i got swamped by exams.. i hope this is to your satisfaction!
If anyone at Mount Horizon High had been taking bets on the first boy to crack under the pressure of junior year, none of them would have pointed at Scott Barringer. Until he developed a not so subtle crush on someone. You.
Most people noticed before you did. In fact, the general consensus was that Scott’s feelings were so obvious it bordered on performance art. But Scott insisted he was being subtle, which was extra impressive considering he asked you for something every single day.
Pens. Pencils. Spare paper. Homework answers. A highlighter. One time, he asked if you had an extra calculator even though you weren't in math. Confused you, but you politely said you didn't.
It didn’t help that his attempts at being smooth, like he usually was, came out awkward and frantic.
On the first Monday of term, you’d assumed he just didn’t pack well.
By week three, your friends were keeping tally.
Monday.
The bell for second period had barely finished echoing when Scott slid into the desk beside you, slightly out of breath as if the journey from the hallway had been an Olympic trial.
“Hey,” he said. Too loud. Then, much quieter: “...hey.”
You glanced over. “Morning, Scott.”
He beamed. Beamed. Like you’d just handed him a diploma or nominated him for student of the month.
“So uh—funny situation.” He pulled his bag into his lap and rummaged through it with frantic commitment. “I think someone stole my pencil.”
You blinked. “Someone stole it?”
“Yeah. Had to have.” He nodded, as if this were the most logical conclusion. “Like, who even does that?”
“Maybe you left it in your locker?”
Scott froze. Stared at his bag. “...That’s exactly where I left it.” Nominate this boy for an Oscar immediately.
Then: “Can I—borrow yours? Please? Just for today.”
You slid one across your desk, and he accepted it like it was a sacred object.
“You’re a lifesaver. Seriously. I owe you... a pencil. A bunch of them.”
You smiled, amused. “It’s fine, Scott.”
He smiled back, but then didn’t look away. Not until the teacher called his name. Twice.
Tuesday.
If Monday was predictable, Tuesday was arguably even worse. He approached your locker with the same urgency someone might use to report a fire.
“Okay, so, before you judge me,” he began.
“I’m not judging you,” you said.
“You should,” he replied instantly. “I deserve it. I mean, I really deserve it.”
“What did you do?”
“It’s not—like—did.” He held up a crumpled worksheet. “More like… didn’t.”
You raised a brow. “You didn’t do the English homework.”
Scott looked physically relieved that you’d said it first. “Yes! Exactly that. And I was wondering if maybe you could—like—show me your answers?”
“To copy?”
“No!” he said too quickly. “Not copy. Just… glance at it. To inspire my own thinking. My own educated, original thinking that may or may not resemble yours.”
You laughed despite yourself. “Here.”
He took the paper, smiling internally. “You’re the best. Seriously. Like if there were rankings of students in this school, you’d be at the top”
“The top?”
“Yes. I’ve thought about this.”
“Scott—”
“Not in a weird way!” He grimaced. “Just. Academically.”
You nodded, trying not to smile. “Sure. Academically.”
He flushed. The tips of his ears turned red. You didn’t notice, turning back to grab your books from the locker.
Wednesday.
By Wednesday, the entire class practically knew Scott was going to try something else. You were barely seated when he turned in his chair, twisting around to face you.
“Okay,” he said. “So, hear me out—”
“Scott, what did you forget today?”
“Nothing!” he said, wounded. “This is—prep. Advanced prep.”
“For what?”
“For… school.”
You blinked. “Right.”
He cleared his throat, regrouping. “So, I had this idea. You know how sometimes I miss stuff in class? Not always! But sometimes.” His voice cracked. He pretended it didn’t. “Anyway. I was thinking we could, like… collaborate.”
“Collaborate?”
“On notes. You take really good ones. I take... notes.”
You laughed softly. “You want to share notes?”
“Yeah. But like—long-term. Ongoing.” He hesitated. “We’d have to– like– exchange numbers.”
Oh. That was new.
Before you could reply, a voice whispered from two rows over: “Just ask her out, Barringer!”
Scott choked on air.
Your face heated, but not for the reason everyone assumed. He turned crimson but stood his ground.
“Ignore them,” he said quickly. “They’re stupid.”
“I don’t think they’re stupid..?" you said, confused.
Scott opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Oh.”
You weren’t sure what “oh” meant. But the bell rang, saving him from clarifying. Still, when you slid your phone across the desk at the end of class, he stared at it like you’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“Just for notes,” you teased. He nodded too fast. “Yes. Notes. Absolutely. Nothing else.”
But he looked like maybe, possibly, hopefully... he wished it meant more.
Thursday.
By Thursday, Scott was running out of excuses, but definitely not determination. When your teacher announced a history group project, he didn’t even wait for partners to be assigned. He practically leapt out of his seat to ask you.
“Did you wanna be my–”
“Scott,” the teacher interrupted, “you’ll be paired randomly.”
He sat back down in his seat immediately, grin fading so fast you'd doubt it was ever there. When the list was read, though, luck sided with him.
“Scott Barringer and—”
Your name. You couldn't see it, but the way his face lit up would put the crazy people who put up insane Christmas lights to shame.
After class he jogged up to you, grinning so hard it looked like it hurt. “So– uh, I guess we're partners.. What a coincidence.”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “We can work on it after school.”
“Perfect. Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring snacks. Do you like snacks? Of course you do. Everyone likes snacks.”
You laughed. “Scott—breathe.” He did. Sort of.
Friday.
It wasn’t until Friday that you finally understood what everyone else had known for weeks.
You and Scott were sitting in the library, surrounded by history textbooks, half-written notes, and the untouched pile of snacks he’d brought “for productivity.” He couldn’t concentrate—too busy glancing at you whenever you weren’t looking.
Eventually, you caught him. He stared back, frozen like a deer in headlights.
“What?” you asked softly.
“N-nothing,” he stammered. “Just—uh—checking the time.”
“The clock's behind you.”
He winced. “Right. That’s… right.”
You studied him. The fidgeting hands. The flushed cheeks. The pencil tapping an endless rhythm against his notebook. The truth was suddenly so obvious you almost laughed.
“Scott,” you said gently, “you know you don’t need an excuse to talk to me, right?”
He froze.
You continued, voice calm, kind, not teasing—just honest. “If you want to hang out– or something, you can just say so.”
Scott blinked. “Uh– yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said. “You can.”
His expression softened into something almost shy, almost relieved. “Okay,” he whispered. “Then… do you maybe want to hang out? Like—not for homework. Just… because.”
I like that you gave the reader a backbone. I see so many fics where the reader is Vaders enemy and then turns to the dark side 🙄 like “rebel” my ass 😒 but anyways tysm I love that reader won’t leave the rebellion
ughh yes, we need more rebellion leader x vader fics where the rebel actually despises him. slow burn 🤤
summary: you wake up in an unfamiliar room, with a droid there to tend to you. tensions unfold as you give anakin a piece of your mind for his actions. eventually trying to convince him to overthrow palpatine and end the empire.
warnings: angst, yelling, brief mentions of torture (from previous chapter)
a/n: im so sorry this one isnt GN, it was really annoying to keep writing "mr/mrs" for things.
The moment his droid injected you with the syringe, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Your muscles no longer felt tense and stiff, slowly loosening up as you sat up in the bed.
"Where am I?" You ask the droid as it whirls around, getting things ready.
"This is Lord Vader's personal chambers, Lady Skywalker." It said, placing the syringe down on a table.
"Stop calling me that." You mumble, shifting around in the soft sheets to get a good look of the room. It was plain, bare minimum furniture around.
"Stop calling you what– no, please stay in the bed for your own safety. You are not ready to be holding up your own weight yet." The droid said, immediately coming back to your side as you tried stepping out of the bed.
"I'm perfectly alright." You snarl at the droid, it hastily nodding and allowing you to stand. The moment your weight was transfered onto your feet, you felt like your legs would give way at any second. The droid being a medical one just couldn't allow you to do this on your own, offering its shiny, silver arm as support, which you hesitantly took.
"I must get out of here." You say, taking a step. Where you were going, you had no idea. Looking down at yourself, you realized your old robes were gone. Replaced with clean, nicer smelling black ones.
Immediately a wave of anger came over you. Who dared to undress you—
"It's alright. I took the liberty of taking away your old ones. You were due for a change of outfit regardless." The droid said, relaxing your nerves a little more. As long as it wasn't Anakin.
"Right." You nod, letting go of its arm. You got this.
"As for getting out of here, I'm afraid I cannot let you do that." It calmly walked after you, not really needing to chase as you couldn't walk very fast.
"And whats that supposed to mean?" You said, turning your head towards it.
"Unfortunately I was required to alert Lord Vader the moment you regained your consciousness. He will be here shortly."
"What?" You say, mind already working overtime to figure out what to do next. Hide? You weren’t really of much use currently, with your moves being as uncoordinated as Obi-Wan trying to ride a Bantha. Grabbing the syringe the droid left on the table you grab the droid and pull it away towards the bathroom.
"Make any noise when he comes, and I'll stab this so hard into your circuits, not even the greatest mechanic in the galaxy will be able to save you." You threaten, ducking down in a corner next to some sort of control panel. Maybe you could wire it to get some sort of signal out to the Rebellion. Tell them you were alive.
The droid nods silently, watching as you attempt to open up the panel. Moving your own hand away, its finger opens up to a screwdriver, undoing the screws on the panel.
Maybe this droid could be of use after all.
The moment you pulled the panel off, the sound of the rooms doors hissed open. Kriff.
Heavy sounding footsteps entered the room, and you dared to peek your head out from behind the table to check where he was.
Standing near the dresser, Anakin took off the mask, placing it down on the table. He could feel your presence, it wasn't easy to hide. Turning towards your hiding spot, barely missing your head darting back behind. You pressed a finger to your lips, staring the droid down, as you held up the syringe.
You knew you couldn't really do anything. Holding some sort of sharp object gave you a small sense of satisfaction, however. If he could walk past you— you could use the Force to take the lightsaber clipped to Anakin's belt. At least that way it would be more fair for you.
In the midst of thinking of all this, you poked your head back out to check where he was.
Where he was.
Where was he.
Dread rose through your body like fire in your veins as you realize he wasn't in your field of view anymore. You couldn't hear his heavy footsteps, nor feel his presence.
That was when what you thought was a wall that you hid in front of, moved.
"Y/N." His voice came, and you whipped your head around. Crawling backwards hastily in order to put space between you two, still dragging the droid along with you, you hold the syringe to its neck.
"Master, help me! Lady Skywalker has gone insane." The droids panicked voice was still ever so calm as it was dragged along with you.
"Y/N, stop." He said, taking a step toward you, to which you went even further away.
"Y/N. Seriously. Put it down." He said, standing where he was as you hit the actual wall behind you.
"I'm not putting it down." You glance up at his belt. Shoot. No saber there anymore.
Following your eyes to his belt, he smiled internally. He knew you far too well for your own liking.
"Leave the droid. It has done nothing but try to help you." He pleaded. And you relented, letting go of the droid and watching as it stood up.
"How uncivilized." It said, brushing itself off.
"Leave us." Anakin told it, and it hobbled out the room, leaving you on the floor. Honestly, you would have gotten up by now. Your muscles were still working on that though.
As Anakin shut the doors to the room, he turned around to see you hooking your arm onto his desk to pull yourself up. By habit, he went to go help you up.
The moment his gloved hand touched your arm, you yanked it back like it burned.
"Don't you touch me." You hiss at him. He lost the rights to get to do that to you long ago.
"You need help–"
"I don't need help from you." You say, hoisting yourself to your feet.
"Can we just talk?" He says, following you as you walk away from him.
"About what? About how your buddies decided to send over 200 volts of energy into my body? About how I was drugged and knocked unconscious to get here in the first place?" You say, turning around to look at him. The feeling from before, where you were too tired to say anything to him had vanished, and you found yourself going off at him.
"What? What do you want to talk about?" You say, holding onto the wall for support, yet still standing tall.
"–I don't. I don't know." He said. In all his years in the Empire, he had never found himself at a loss for words. Until now. Until he looked at you and only saw the girl he fell in love with so many years ago on Coruscant.
"What now, Vader?" You say his name like it was poison on your tongue. "You gonna keep me here? Hold me hostage and force me to give you names of Rebel leaders?" You say, voice raising a little.
"I did not say I was going to do that." He raises his voice at you, immediately regretting it as he catches the flash of fear run through your eyes.
"Right." You held your tongue back, clenching your jaw. You had no power over him currently. Best be to work something out later.
"Please. Just– sit." He said, walking over to the bed. "I don't want to see you hurt yourself any more."
You followed over, not because he told you to. Because you also thought it would be better to sit than collapse. "Yes, hurt myself any further than your devoted employees did. Right?"
"Can you stop with that? I had no knowledge of your presence on this ship until after they had begun– interrogation tactics." He said, looking down at you.
"But now you're here." He said out loud, mostly to himself, however.
"Yeah. Now what. You gonna kill me?" You say, voice wavering against your will.
"I'm.. not." He said, although he knew damn well, that would be his first orders from Palpatine the moment he caught word of your capture.
"Hm, well what will your close friend Palpatine have to say about that?" You snarl.
"I don't take orders from him!" Anakin yelled, surprising you. He did take orders from him. You sat, staring at him after the little outburst.
"I just. I don't– I don't know what to do." He said, sitting on the bed, facing the window, staring out into empty space.
Hesitance. You could work this into your favor. "You can let me go." You say.
"I can't do that." I don't want to do that. He wanted to keep you here, with him. All those years ago, he asked if you would come with him. And now he had you here again. He didn't want to let go.
"And why not?" You snap. You wanted to be anywhere else but here. Not just because of Anakin.
A small part of you didn't mind his company. And wondered how it would have been if he had been in the Rebellion alongside you.
"Because I don't want to let you go again." He raised his own voice to match yours, turning his head from the window to look at you.
"Well if you hadn't done... all this. You wouldn't have to." You say, trying to keep yourself composed despite the feelings of longing hitting you like waves crashing onto rocks.
"I did it for you. I told you." That was his excuse. His reason to justify all of this.
Clenching your jaw to stop yourself from screaming at him, you take a breath.
"I didn't want this. And I know for a fact now, you don't either. Cause if you did, I'd be dead already." You sigh.
"I don't understand why you still go along with Palpatine's plans. You told me yourself– you're more powerful than he ever could be. You could put a stop to all of this. But you wont. And I dont know why."
He felt like lashing out. Hitting something. It would be easier to do so than think about what hes been doing in the Empire.
"I'm not gonna stop what I do. And if I die doing so, so be it. And if it's by your hand– then that guilt will live alongside you forever." You say, finally meeting his eyes.
He missed you so much. So very much. He knew what he wanted to do. It was now just a matter of getting over his giant ego to tell you.
Tell you he was sick of all the death.
Would you believe him?
You had once told him you would trust in him, no matter what. Whether or whether not that was the case now, would only be determined when he got the courage to say it.
He wanted to come with you. Kill Palpatine. End the Empire.
Obviously, it wouldn't go back to being all happy days again. But seeing you again made him remember how much joy you brought him. And he wanted to feel that way again.
You could feel him contemplating something. And you wanted him to spit it out.
"What is it?" You said, voice harboring more care than you thought you would be able to muster up.
After a long pause. He finally looked up at you.
"You were right."
It felt like chains had been unshackled.
"You were always right. I dont want to do this anymore." He said. He would not cry in front of you. Not yet, anyway.
"I want to be on the right side again. And thats the side that you always choose."
Oh.
You had dreamed of this happening. You wouldn't tell anyone that you did, ever. But you did.
And now he was really saying that he wanted to be with you. Leave the Empire.
"So why don't you?" Was all you said.
For once in a very, very long time. Anakin Skywalker knew what he wanted to do. And why he wanted to do it.
For you.
tags: @deathyriver @enchantedyvie @verysynical @wayneics [adding to my taglist!! comment or ask if you want to be added 🥹🥹]
summary: anakin finally meets the love of his life. yet they are now on opposing sides. after being on the run from the empire, you are found and tried for information about the rebellion.
warnings: brief description about torture, death, anakin wants you to join him on the dark side, you wont leave the rebellion, mentions of being drugged.
a/n: guys im so sorry if you're bald cause I mention running hands through your hair.
"Lord Vader.." The timid General spoke with feigned confidence, approaching the Sith Lord. "We have captured another one of the remaining Jedi." He spoke, piquing Vaders' interest.
Sensing his interest gave the General a bit more confidence, elaborating on who the Jedi was. "Jedi Master Y/N, Y/L/N" their name was. Didn't give us much else.."
"Y/N? You have brought Y/N aboard our ship?" He turned, his mood suddenly changing to one of almost– anger and surprise?
"—yes, uh, we have them held in the electrical chamber. They wouldn't speak so we–" The sound of his terribly annoying voice was silenced by gargling, gasping breaths escaping his mouth.
"Imbacile." Was all Vader said before snapping his neck. They could find a replacement for it soon enough. He began to walk the halls of the ship, towards the room you were held in.
His Y/N.
Before he had turned to the dark side— back in the days of the Order, you fell in love with Anakin Skywalker. And he with you.
Palpatine's plans to turn him into his apprentice prevailed, however, and Anakin became infatuated with trying to save you from "premonitions" of you dying. Premonitions planted into his mind by the Sith Lord.
And so eventually, he turned. So alongside the remaining Jedi, your friends, you fled Coruscant to a small planet in the far, far Outer Rim. Saying goodbye to Obi-Wan and your other friends was not the hardest thing you had to deal with, after Order 66, and Anakin's betrayal.
But you made the mistake of getting too close to someone. A man you thought would be your friend, for however long it would take for the Empire to drive you into hiding on another planet.
Dir-Enso, an ex-bounty whom you trusted after he smooth-talked his way out of a hassle with some Stormtroopers, whom you somehow managed to piss off without even pulling out a lightsaber.
Until he sold you out for some credits, mouthing, "hustle is hustle" as the Tenth Brother dragged your drugged body away.
Which brought you here.
"Where are the remaining Jedi hiding." Some man said, as you were suspended by the machine they used to shock you into giving out answers.
Stupid man. Like you knew where they all ran off to. That was the whole point, to live in isolation from the rest.
"I would never tell you. Even if I knew." You spat, sweat dripping down your forehead, strands of baby hairs sticking to your face.
"Then we must go again." He said, signaling the droid to turn the machine on again.
Turning the corner, Vader stormed his way down the hall to the chamber where you were held– Force-pushing anyone in his way into the walls. He needed to see if it was true. If they had finally got you.
The chamber doors opened, his suit reflecting the blue electricity being directed into your body.
"Leave us." He said to the now very scared looking officer in charge of extracting information. Nodding quickly, he signals the droid to turn off the machine, the room quickly dimming without the light emitted.
When the doors shut, Vader went over to the panel and released the restraints that suspended you in the air.
You were barely holding onto consciousness after being fried for hours, dropping to the ground rather pathetically. You questioned why they let you down, but the one-way glass window would not let you see.
If only you had your lightsaber.
The chamber doors opened, and you didn't bother looking up to see what was happening. That, and also, you couldn't. You were practically paralyzed from the high voltages that had just ran through your body.
Vader entered the chamber, looking down at your sprawled out figure on the cold durasteel floor.
"Y/N." Vader spoke through the helmet.
You wished they had just killed you.
"Y/N..." *His* voice came. Not Vaders this time.
Anakin had taken the helmet off, setting it on the ground beside him as he knelt down beside you.
If looks could kill, Anakin would be floating off deep into space right now.
Anakin didn't really know what to say. Or do. He just looked down at you on the ground. You looked different. Your clothes that you usually prided yourself on looking decent, were tattered and ripped. You definitely were thinner. Probably from being on the run. You seemed— devoid. Of any sort of feelings. You looked dull.
Last time he had seen you, you were furious with what he had become. He longed to see the fire in your eyes. Not this sad, emotionless expression.
Maker, you wanted to hit him. Or do something. But your body willed against you, settling for staring up at his face. He looked the same. It was unnerving, really. You went over his face until you noticed parts of your vision began to become spotty.
The last thing you saw was his gloved hand coming down to run through your slightly matted hair.
You woke up not on a cold floor, but on a surprisingly comfortable bed. Turning your head was uncomfortable to do, but you wanted to survey your surroundings. It was a room. A window overlooking nothing but empty space, a desk and chair, and another room. Presumably a bathroom. Where the hell were you?
Your thoughts were cut off by a medical droid making its way over to you.
"Ah yes. Good morning, Mrs/Mr Skywalker. Lord Vader will be pleased to know you have awoken." It said, getting some sort of syringe from the bedside table next to you. You visibly tensed at that, eyeing it as you wished you could snatch it out of the droids hands.
"You're right. How rude of me." The droid said, noticing your discomfort. "Let me introduce myself. I am Lord Vaders personal Medical Droid. This will help you to mobilize faster." It said, holding the syringe for you to look at.
No. You weren't a Skywalker.
tags: @deathyriver [adding to tag list! comment if you would like to be added]
