#(they will at least be able to think and move fast enough to escape it. but if you put them in a situation where that can't be done)

[badsopen]

You Can run, But You Can't Hide...

Yandere!Mark Grayson x Superpowered!Reader

A/N : The reader in this has a teleportation power, not interdimensional teleportation but like regular teleportation, and they can phase through walls, obviously in this dimension Mark joined his dad and he doesn't want to kill you either

Hiding with Robot and Adam Eve's group wasn't ideal. Resources were scarce. People scared and paranoid whether they got to live another day or not; but going back and forth from one part of the planet to another wasn't sustainable either, especially since with how fast the both of them can travel; it'd only be a few minutes of resting time before you had to teleport again. So, after narrowly escaping Nolan's death grip in Honduras, you made the decision to move back up north even to settle down in the sewers to have more than thirty minutes to cool down.

But you had spotted one of the freedom fighters and followed him back to the underground base, he was clumsy and loud. It wouldn't be long until they found this place. Finding Adam and Robot telling them was the best you could do for them; they were surprised to say the least. After all a hand straight through your chest should've killed you; but with the combination of teleporting and phasing an escape was granted to you. However, not without a cost, your heart was weak, Nolan had grazed the front of your heart and thinned the muscle there. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, just pop on down to Cecil and he'd have you fixed up in no time. So, your life was on a schedule, it was a rough estimate…maybe a year? Two if you were able to properly rest without the teleporting at all.

Adam convinced you to say, sweetly said it was to treat your injuries, but Robot had made it clear it was for you to help out gathering resources and getting as many people as possible out of here in case this place was found. No matter, it was nice of them to give you a place to recover after Robot had fixed up your heart. The scar was a thin long line, from the top of your throat to the underside of your belly button. It was overkill you were sure of it, but even after waking up after the pain of being ripped open, you still were in better health, than teleporting in fear of being caught and killed.

You were inside of a subway car, practicing teleporting instantly from one side of the room to the other side, it was going to take a couple of days of practicing to build up to longer distances again. It was nicer not having a time frame of when you were going to die, or having hope for the future that wasn't under the Viltrum Empire.

It was short lived however..

There was rumbling coming from the roof of the underground train station, at first it was dismissible-just buildings crumbling to the ground, but after the screaming started to pick up and then people rushing by the car it was obvious. They had found this place, and they were going to kill everyone in this place.

Rushing out of the car, you saw that they had split themselves up, Nolan was fighting Robot and Adam Eve was fighting Mark. Omni Man had made quick work of Robot and the other people who were unlucky enough to behind him after he was rushed. Teleporting to Robot after Omni Man had delivered his last words to Robot, you had told him that you would 'take care of it and not to worry'. His voice was rasped and hard to make out with the screaming, but the message was delivered a simple Don't fail.

Looking around for the both of them wasn't hard, just follow the fear induced screams was more than enough to be pointed in the right direction.

Mark had his hand around Eve's neck, they were talking to each other. Her hands are on his wrist... and then a snap...he broke her neck. Omni man is up there now he's saying something, Mark is shaking his head not as he puts Eves' body down. They're still talking to each other.

Both of their heads snap in your direction, FUCK they saw you! Before you can think of a place to teleport to Nolan rushes you bursting the people in-between you both like bloody pimples. He lifts you in the air by your neck. Mark slowly floats his way down to you and his father.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here" Nolan grimaces slightly "especially with how keen you were to get away from the city."

His voice was monotone and short. It was hard to see where this conversation would go. You try and keep yourself levelheaded knowing that one wrong move will get you killed or captured by the of them.

"I can't stay away from home for to long."

A nervous smile came across your cracked lips, hurting but not bleeding. The grip Omni Man had on your throat was tight, keeping you suspended in the air by your throat was starting to expose the scar. A flush of air meant that Invincible had come up to interrogate you with Omni Man.

Marks soft voice rang through the silence of his and his fathers animalistic brutality just minutes ago.

"Why are you here?"

His tone had remained soft and understanding like he was talking to a child; it made would always make you wonder if Mark was choosing to do these horrible things, or he was going along with his father trying save thousands from his father.

Nolans eyes started to wonder down the slightly red line and a deep frown began to set on his mustache.

"Ah, Mark, that's a really st-"

Nolans grip had tightened suddenly as he dropped lower to the ground making sure your feet could barely scrape the rubble ridden concrete. A stern look strikes his face as he turns to Mark. A short look is shared between them before turning back to you, their eyes drift down your face and towards your pulsing scar. Nolan's thumb presses in deep enough to make Mark suck in air harshly and Nolan giving a somewhat disappointed grumble from some deep crevasse of feeling that you quite aren't sure is there.

A soft sigh came from Mark as a frown sets deep on his skin.

"What happened to you? What's with the scar? Is because of what happened in Honduras? You know if you'd just stayed still nothing would've happened. You pushed dad's buttons..., I'm not saying you deserved that, but still."

A shrug passed through him, he moved closer, Nolan's grip was starting to get harsher. Mark puts his hand on top of your head, he doesn't take heed of it. He begins to it upward slowly as you struggled to look up, a chuckle came from Nolan.

"He won't kill you, just make sure you won't be able to see straight. I've seen him practice works well enough."

You weren't able to at least get a sarcastic rebuttal out before his hand came down on, your head. It was an odd experience a slight pain, a sharp realization of being able to see in opposite directions, burning in of bile, and then not having sight in front of yourself.

[theramblingvoid]

i dont have any of those emojis so - the trap one!

🪤 What is one thing that could be used to lure your OC into a trap?

hmm you didn't specify which OC to do this for so I'll answer it for my Fallen London characters!

Hallowrove: once again shoutout to flondon for being a game where this has canonically happened Multiple Times. Hallowrove is, unfortunately, the guy who goes to see what the weird noise is in a horror movie. They're less motivated by concrete rewards than you might expect, and they won't tend to go in on things where the risk is well known and high, but they will Definitely take too much of a chance on an unknown risk for the sake of finding something out. Honestly just set up any challenge of unknown difficulty or strange set of circumstances that beg to be investigated, make it impossible for them to improvise their way out once they've fallen for it, and you've got them.

Null: Literally any item. Preferably food. Preferably very raw meat. If not food then any valuable item in sufficiently high quantities or weight so as to feel satisfying to take. this guy is literally the vacuum that nature abhors it is Not hard to motivate

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I’m BEGGING You 🙏🏼

Write de Delete Pressure ending

'I've got him now..I can put an end to this.'

That was all you could think about as you stared down at the monster, the fishman you once bartered with, seeing how utterly pathetic he looked.

Finally.

Finally.

You've caught him in his latest hideout, and this time there was no escape for him.

It's quite ironic considering you were the one who's been running away from monsters for so long, never having the means to fight back. All you could do was hide and pray that they wouldn't find you.

After having lost count how many times you've perished to the anglers, Pandemonium, and all the others...you figured Sebastian, your "only friend", would be your safe haven from those savage creatures.

But after someone in a previous team accidentally triggered their recently-purchased flash beacon in his shop....you realized he wasn't any different from them.

Not after he nearly choked them out, breaking the tool with a spiteful warning to never try that again--as though convinced they did it on purpose--before throwing them to the ground.

They died instantly, blood pooling all around their head, and the only thing Sebastian was concerned about was needing to move his shop to a new hideout.

Oh, and of course, the items they left behind after their corpse was retrieved.

Then the next time you met him, somebody else tried to do the same thing with intentions to annoy him....and he shot them point blank in the chest. No warnings. No mercy.

That's right.

He had a shotgun hidden beneath his coat. Something that Urbanshade wouldn't dare allow you to possess lest they detonated your gear for even looking at one.

But now that they've given you clearance to eliminate him by whatever means necessary--so long as it was only used to target him and not to escape or damage any property--you were currently holding that same weapon in your hands.

It had one shell left in the chamber, as Sebastian used up the rest during his pursuit of you.

He must have caught wind of the orders the overseers gave out, as he closed his shop and became completely fed up with your attempts to reach the crystal.

Now that Painter was no longer able to stall your progress after you destroyed him for good, he was next on the hit list.

Eyefestation was on it, too, but she would be...difficult to contain. She was the least of your worries.

He, on the other hand, could be easily cornered if you were persistent enough.

The bastard tried playing dirty, at first--sending anglers after you, getting Eyefestation outraged enough to fry your brains, and even distracting you so a Wall Dweller could feast on your body. All before you could even reach Door 50.

You were more than angry.

You were livid at these cheap tricks of his, constantly yelling his name and daring him to come face you himself....and indeed he did at some points, armed with nothing but his gun, claws, and teeth.

True to his document, he was surprisingly fast for his size, able to crush you in a vice grip with his tail, leave deep gashes in your flesh, shoot you point-blank, and even throw you into the dark pits of the ruined facility.

As expected, you came back again and again, finding new ways to outsmart him.

This time, you had the crystal in your possession and repaired the cables in the ocean floor, but your mission wasn't over yet.

Sebastian refused to let you leave, and HQ demanded one final task from you: kill him, lest he sabotaged the submarine that was your only ticket out of here. They refused to send it until the deed was done.

While it became difficult to leave even a scratch on him at first, you managed to wound him more and more every time with makeshift weapons like planks with nails or anything you had at your disposal.

Now it was all finally coming to a head, as you've got him cornered, seeing his clothes shredded and his flesh bloodied from all the fighting.

And while you weren't in any better shape yourself, with your uniform a bit tattered and the crystal's container bearing scratches from his claws..he was in a far worse state.

He wasn't even trying to fight you anymore.

He just curled up in the corner of the room, hand pressed to his chest--his white shirt bleeding red--and the bandage on his third arm having become undone, revealing a reopened wound.

"You've lost, Sebastian." You huffed. "This ends here."

"....gh...ngh...."

You removed your scuba mask so he could see the fury in your eyes, and how they also stung with betrayal. It consumed your heart, leaving an ache greater than the physical ones you felt in your legs.

Once, you liked him, his company, and his attempts to make jokes and light out of grim circumstances.

Once, you considered him a friend and a humble shopkeeper who was just trying to help those who used to be like him: prisoners wrongfully incarcerated such as yourself.

Once, you could never imagine Urbanshade giving you the orders to kill him AND be willing to follow through with them.

That's all changed, however.

"They were right..you're nothing but a goddamn animal." You spat, watching the way he shuddered and gnashed his teeth. "You're just like the rest of them. You're all killing machines."

"...no.." Sebastian managed to choke out, looking up at you through his matted black hair, wheezing. "D-Don't..say that..I'm nothing like them.."

"Maybe you aren't a complete savage, but at least they didn't steal from me. At least they didn't act like they were my friend."

"......"

"Even Painter was honest with me about his intentions. He knew you weren't gonna come back for him..so I did him a favor. And he thanked me, Sebastian. If only I could've put you out of your misery just as easily."

"Go..to...to hell.." He clutched his torso, his jacket slipping off his shoulders as he coughed. "Go to hell.."

"I'm afraid that's where we're both heading." Frowning, you could feel your finger sliding towards the shotgun's trigger. "It's waiting for all of us. No matter how innocent or guilty we are. But unfortunately for you...I'll be a little late to the party."

He said nothing to that, but when you were about to speak again, he mumbled something. You tilted your head, wondering why he was suddenly looking off into space. "What did you say?"

Blinking several times, you grew alarmed as he suddenly raised his hands up to his face. Then you heard the sniffles, and a drawled-out whine that sounded like something from a wounded animal, and it was all coming from the utterly broken and defeated sea creature before you.

"...m...mom..?"

"Huh?"

"Are you there? I...I-I don't wanna die.."

Was this another trick of his? To feign weakness so you could let your guard down?

That's what you wanted to believe, and yet...as he began to cry and curl in on himself, you started having doubts that he could be this manipulative when he was so, so weak and near death.

"M-Mom..everything hurts..I-I need you...please..please, please, please..help.." His voice broke, tears dripping onto the concrete floor as he tugged on his hair and lure. "Ayudame..ayudame.."

Now he's lost it.

His sobs were the only sounds that filled the room, aside from the humming lights and sounds of the sea's pressure constricting the hulls of the blacksite.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.

How could you have forgotten?

He's mentioned a family several lifetimes ago, back when you were a naive expendable eager to have somebody to chat with who recalled their humanity. At one point, after obtaining his document, he began opening up to you a bit more about his past. Before Urbanshade and their cruel experiments.

He had a mother and siblings...his father figure was likely absent, but you knew it was rude to question that. So you let him talk about them and what he remembered. He'd never know for sure if they moved on from his "execution", or even if they were still alive at all today...

Either way, the worst feeling for him was that they'd never know he was found innocent of those crimes that got him on death row. And even if he was somehow freed...what would they think of him?

Probably as a monster, no doubt.

Yet despite it all, he cried out for his mom anyways, wanting nothing more than to be in her arms again. He had given up on attacking you and spewing vile threats in your face.

What was the point? You would just come back over and over again, and he'd run out of ideas eventually.

He was just so tired of fighting.

He wanted it all to stop.

Watching how quickly he fell apart in front of you constrained your heart, and for a moment you wondered if there was another way out of this situation--a way that didn't require one having to kill the other...

Until your diving gear began to beep.

'Shit..' Suddenly you were snapped back to the cold hard reality, as your eyes shifted to the broken experimental scrambler on the ground. It was still sparking, showing signs of irreversible damage.

Now that it no longer blocked out any communications from Urbanshade, the cameras could see you and their target in the same room together, with you hesitating to complete the mission and take the shot.

And to them, hesitance showed disobedience...and they've told you that was cause for immediate execution.

You were still an expendable. Someone they can replace in a heartbeat.

The noises seemed to snap Sebastian out of his own trance, as he looked up at you with tears staining his scaled face, blood leaking from his mouth.

He could only stare at you with resignation.

"I'm so..tired.."

Regrettably, you nodded and raised the shotgun, forcing your hands to be steady. You couldn't afford to waste anymore time, not when the beeping had gradually slowed down, allowing you to focus.

Without needing to exchange further words, you two knew the true enemy here..the one who put you both into these horrible, horrible situations in the first place..

But unless you act now, they were just going to find someone else to finish the job.

No.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'll make this quick."

It had to be you, as much as you wish it wasn't you.

If only you met him under better circumstances.

He just nodded and closed his eyes.

And you fired.

You looked away as soon as his body slumped to the floor, already growing nauseous over what you've done. The shotgun fell out of your hands, landing with a loud clatter, but it was finally over

He was gone. Silenced forever.

The beeping stopped completely, before you heard HQ come back online with one last message:

"Z-13 has been eliminated. Good work. Now leave the weapon on the floor and head through the marked doors that will lead you straight to the submarine dock."

Somehow, your weary legs managed to move towards the green-lit doors on their own, and during your long walk to the dock, the crystal's container thumped against your pant leg.

Even when you finally got to rest inside the submarine as it took you away from the blacksite, you felt as though....you didn't even deserve to rest after what you did. You felt like you've committed a crime worse than the one that put you here in the first place.

They made you take a life to earn your freedom.

But why did it have to be his life?

Was there truly no other way?

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam and trying to fight them

BRUCE

Bruce just can’t see you as a threat; you just don’t register to him. As a result, he won’t be able to take your frustration seriously. He almost views it like a puppy play-fighting, testing boundaries with their parent and trying to learn how to use their body.

As a result, he does draw out your little fight quite a while; he sees it as enrichment. It’s good for you to have exercise after all, and this way he knows you won’t get hurt!

After a while you can really tell that he’s exaggerating his injuries; you lightly punch him and he goes down. It doesn’t make any sense for Batman to be so sensitive… You realize he’s just playing with you, and the humiliation almost kills you

He loves your little bonding session. He’s joking around, smiling and laughing, and you’re seriously trying to maim him. It’s like you’re a little kitten trying to attack a lion; it’s not going to work.

Eventually he does realize you’re trying to defeat him, and then just starts immediately pinning you. You’re sweating heavily on the ground and he’s not even breathing heavily, just smiling down at you with that fond little expression. It’s infuriating.

DICK

Oh my god he is so fucking annoying about this.

Another one who doesn’t realize at first you’re trying to escape. Honestly, he probably never realizes, he’s just happy you’re showing interest in something so important to him!

He’s quite fast and has really powerful acrobatic moves, he’s twisting and running circles aorund you, and you’re laying on the mat, sweat pouring off you in buckets.

It’s definitely irritating, especially because he loves gloating. He sees it as a way to preen, he wants you to be impressed by him, and you see it as him making fun of you for not being able to escape.

Eventually starts teaching you how to actually fight. You’ll learn to box, but you’ll never be anywhere near his level. Eventually you give up on escaping and learn to use it to take your anger out on him. It’s the only time you’ll be allowed to punch him, even if it doesn’t seem to even register.

It’s embarassing to not even be considered a threat, but hey, at least you didn’t get punished for misbehaving.

JASON

Jason realizes what’s happening pretty immediately, but it’s the first time you’ve tried to make contact with him… he’s allowing himself this bit of selfishness.

He loves seeing your determined little expressions, it makes him feel ecstatic that you’re thinking so deeply about him. He feels he’s occupying your thoughts nearly the same amount you occupy his, which makes him excited. All he wants is for you to be safe, but having you show some affection toward him would be a nice treat.

He spends a lot of time just adjusting your form and making sure you won’t hurt anything. He does spar with you, but he’s using it as a teaching experience and you’re going for the throat. You won’t get anywhere close, but hey, at least he gets to pin you to the floor and see that pretty flustered expression.

His fighting style is normally quick and brutal, so he does focus less on those flashy moves that make up 99% of Dick’s fighting style. As a result, you do actually get faster, though nowhere fast enough to get anywhere close to hitting him. You’ll never land a punch on anything but his forearms, and that’s because he’s letting you; the pit enhanced his fighting quite a bit.

TIM

Tim is the only one to really shut it down. He’s quite a good fighter, but he prefers using the bo staff, which he’d never use on you. Instead, he just gets Dick and Jason to teach you to fight. He’s not interested in sparring at all, he only practices fighting to hone his skills; he doesn’t really enjoy it.

He’d prefer to just cuddle, so he’ll definitely tie you to the bed and just lie next to you, running a hand down your back. If you want to touch him so bad, he’ll give you that.

Yes, he knows that isn’t what you want, no he doesn’t care.

Tim prioritizes your safety, yes, but he isn’t the most playful person around you. He doesn’t want to hurt you or give you a reason to be scared. He does utilize the fact that he’s not the most intimidating person in the world to get you to relax around him. He’s already got to fight against his frightening stare and the fact that you associate him with his ruthless practices as a businessman, he doesn’t want you thinking about him hurting you as well.

CASS

Cass is the most playful about it. Yes, she realizes what’s happening, no she doesn’t care.

She just wants to have fun, and this is the only opportunity she’s really gotten so far.

She’s not really focused on teaching you anything, it’s entirely play for her.

She’s gonna pin you pretty quickly, and she’s the one who uses the least amount of fancy moves. Even Bruce just modifies his normal fighting style to be less brutal, she completely acts like you’re a child trying to wrestle, focusing entirely on the kind of moves an older sibling would use if their younger sibling was being annoying.

Yes, she will sit on your legs to prevent you from moving.

If you actually try to really hurt you, she’s just gonna sit on your legs. She isn’t entertaining any sort of actual harm, it should be light and playful. She’s so soft toward you that you eventually stop trying to hurt her; if she was so gentle with you even when you were going at her throat, you start to understand that she only wants to be around you. Thus begins the period of negotiation for more privileges.

The playfighting is actually a really good way to learn to read Cass. You learn to tell the difference between that playful fake anger, and that real ice cold determination to stop you from doing harm. it’s a great way to bond.

[thesassypadawan]

Ask Nicely (Master Anakin x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Somedays you think your new master hates you and others… Well, let’s just say, you find out soon enough…when he expresses his disdain for you asking Obi-Wan nicely to take care of your needs.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Jealous Skyguy, rough fingering/kisses…and Ani’s thick digits. Padawan Reader is of age, 5 years younger than him.

“What’s the big deal? All I did was train with Master Kenobi,” you huffed. Rolling your eyes so hard that you wondered if they’d get stuck like that.

Anakin had been lecturing you nonstop for the last half hour. Starting from the minute he had practically dragged you out of the dojo…through the temple halls…back to your shared quarters. His strong hand wrapped firmly around your arm the whole way.

“For the fourth time this week,” he growled. Arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway, a frown on his face. “As your master, it’s my responsibility-”

“And you’re doing such a great job…” Having shed the last of your sweat soaked clothes, you began rummaging through your drawers. Back turned to him, not caring that you were standing there in only your undergarments. “…of neglecting those duties.”

You weren’t in the wrong, not in the very least. The two of you never had the greatest of relationships or, for that matter, one really at all. Constantly arguing and fighting, butting heads over anything and everything. Which grew worse when you abruptly became his padawan learner; to the point where you were verily certain that he hated you.

Or there was always something else that led you, made you want to believe…

Capturing your elbow, he easily whirled your around. “Listen here, it’s not my fault-”

“No, it is!” You snapped; jabbing your finger into his chest, refusing to stepdown. “You’re the whole reason why I have to go ask Obi-Wan nicely to help take care of my needs!”

Clearly striking a nerve, you watched as Ani’s jaw clenched tighter. Eyes narrowing at you, something dark flickering inside them. “Careful now; you don’t know-”

“Actually, I think I do,” you boldly interrupted once more. Mouth curling up into a sly grin, because you knew what you said next would anger him enough to either silence or… “You’re jealous! You can’t stand the idea of another man…let alone your old master…touching my body! Guiding me, teaching me how to move in ways that you aren’t able to!”

“Little one,” he snarled in warning. Shoving you back against the dresser, pinning you in place. Towering over your smaller frame menacingly.

You should have been terrified, horrified. Despite this though, you kept goading Anakin. “And his big hands felt so good resting on my hips… His fat cock pressing into my ass…”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a quick, invisible squeeze to your neck. One that left you briefly stunned, speechless. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see what you have to say about Obi-Wan after I’m done teaching you.”

Not even a second later and his mouth was slotted against yours in a fiery kiss. Biting sharply at your bottom lip, demanding entrance. All the while his mechno hand found its way to your breast, tearing the bindings off like they were nothing.

The moment the cold air hit your exposed nipples, you let out a small whimper. Allowing Ani to slip his tongue in, wrestling with and pinning yours down. Showing you who was in control, attempting to force you into submission.

You tried to pull away, but he held you fast to him. Organic hand gripping the back of your head, long fingers tangling and tugging your hair roughly. The other delivering a solid slap to each tit before he finally decided it was time to break apart.

Gasping, coughing for air. A desperate whine escaped you as he trailed his lips down your jaw, your throat; leaving an array of lovely marks in their wake. Until they wrapped themselves around a pebbled bud; sucking hungrily, biting lightly when your back arched in response. “M-Mast-ter.”

While he lavished your chest with hot kisses, Anakin’s hand followed the curves of your body. Brushing your clothed mound, chuckling once he felt how drenched you were. “Would you look at that; already so wet for me. Bet the old bastard can’t get you like this…”

Nipping a sensitive nub one last time, he had risen back up. Hand grasping your chin tightly, lips crashing against your in another searing kiss. Making you mewl softly, body trembling in anticipation.

“…or sound like that,” he growled low. Suddenly yanking your panties to the side, plunging two leather clad fingers into your cunt.

Squealing, you clenched hard around him. Walls fluttering from the foreign sensation, from being stuffed so full. Hips rocking back and forth in time with his painfully slow pumps. A squelching sound filling the air.

Wanting and craving more. All that pent up frustration had you already so embarrassingly close to crashing over the edge. That you were reduced to a mere babbling mess when Ani abandoned your mouth and pressed his lips to your neck again. Kissing the junction of it and your shoulder, tongue lapping at the tender flesh. A pleasant shiver running down your spine. “P-please…please…”

His pace picked up, thick digits thrusting deep with you. Bullying and bruising your cervix, muttering. “Oh, are you close? You want to cum?”

Panting, you nodded frantically. The heat inside of you overwhelming while you lost touch with reality more and more from each drive.

“Words,” he demanded. Adding the remaining two, slamming them brutally into your packed pussy. “Use them.”

“Yes, s-so close!” You squeaked, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. “L-let me c-cum, master!”

At your words, he sunk his teeth in. Breaking the skin, hissing a ‘no’ as he abruptly withdrew his fingers. Pulling away, your fresh blood tinting his lips red.

A wild cry flew from your mouth. Sobbing at the denial, body sagging against the dresser. Hips bucking shamelessly in the air, trying to regain the pleasurable feelings that had been coursing through you.

Grabbing your ass, Anakin squeezed…smacked it hard. Smearing your slick across your freshly soiled panties. “Only good padawans get to do that…you haven’t been. Now, why don’t you try asking me nicely and maybe…I’ll help take care of your needs.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[katskitoshi]

Hello, I'm your new fan and I wanted to make a request :) But if I can't do it, that's ok, I would like an image of Genshin from Zhongli, these days I saw a fanart of him and Lumine and I imagined myself in it lol I really do I love Zhongli and I wanted a smut of him

"CAN'T COUNT?" with ZHONGLI from GENSHIN IMPACT

synopsis: zhongli makes you count his mora while fucking you stupid.

character: zhongli x gn! reader

includes: (nsfw theme) slight dumbification, orgasm denial, marking, double penetration, finger sucking, spanking, slight nipple play

--"come on, dearest. can you not understand this simple task?" zhongli chuckles as his cold, ungloved, and surprisingly well taken care of hands gently massage the soft skin of your hips before delivering a harsh smack on your ass.

a cry of pleasure and pain gets caught in your throat as drool starts to slip down your lip. zhongli's cocks that were brutally pounding your insides suddenly stop. you turn your head back at him with tears in your eyes, slightly rocking your hips back trying to feel him moving inside you again. "w-why'd you..?"

you can't even get your words out before a deep, precise thrust to your sweet spot makes you choke on your own breath, and a harsher smack to your ass than before caused you to clench around him and roll your eyes to the back of your head.

"you stopped counting." counting? when were you-? oh right. just a short while ago, zhongli had you count his mora. but he proposed a challenge. you didn't bother to even hear out the challenge, only begin counting. you mean, zhongli has a little bit of mora, so it can't be that hard right? well, it might've been easy if he hadn't bent you over and started brutally fucking you. counting isn't easy when you have two monster cocks deep inside.

your eyes refocus on the small stack of golden coins in front of you. upon taking them into your hands, zhongli slowly starts thrusting into you again. "see, it's not hard to be smart, dearest." he gives you a wet, gentle kiss on your shoulder that eventually turns into a bite.

his teeth puncture your skin enough to bruise, and he slowly starts making more of them along your neck and shoulder. every once in a while, he'll pick up his speed and drag his tongue of the fresh bite marks.

soon enough, his slow thrusts return to their former pace. brutal, fast, and deep. his cocks throb inside your warm walls and you moan lewdly. zhongli notices that you're starting to lose yourself to him and his cocks, abandoning your tasks at hand.

his nails dig into your hips, bound to leave crescent bruises like the ones on your shoulder and back. he trades his fast, deep, pace for slower, deeper ones.

"zh-zhongli, pleashe don't shtop now.." you hiccup, again trying to bounce yourself back into him. your head drops down onto the small stack of mora that you've barely gotten through counting. drool escapes from your lips and pools onto of the coins as your eyes glaze over in pleasure. unfortunately, you only gain yourself another harsh smack on your ass that nearly sobers you up.

he begins to speed up his thrusts again, delighted to see you sinking back into him, his cocks, his pleasure. "what happened to counting those coins? i won't make you start over, but if you don't finish counting i can't let you cum."

your eyes roll to the back of you head, feeling his throbbing cocks speed up their precise pounds even more. you lift up your head, and begin counting from where you left off, or at least think you did. the threat of not being able to cum made you more determined that ever to get this over with.

as your hands start to run over the drool-covered coins, zhongli moves his hands from your hips to run along your body. his hands eventually stop at your chest. he tugs your nipples harshly to get a reaction out of you. and he gets one.

your walls tighten up around him, nearly bringing him and you to orgasm.

a loud moans leaves your mouth and echos around his office before one of his hands goes to cover your mouth. he thrusts two of his fingers in your mouth and you immediately start screaming around them as he doesn't stop pulling and rubbing at your other nipple.

"don't use this as an excuse to stop, my love. you're so close to being done, aren't you?" your vision is cloudy with tears and your eyes can't focus due to the intense amounts of pleasure youre feeling. but he's right. you are close. close to the end of the mora, close to your orgasm.

you barely even feel awake. you can hear zhongli's low grunts, the sound of his lower stomach slam into your ass, you squelching noise when he pounds into you, your own heartbeat. and you can barely hear yourself when you whine out a 'done!'

you're only convinced you actually said it when zhongli slowed down a little bit and began to leaned in close to your ear and began to whisper to you how proud he was of you.

zhongli turns you over so you're on your back and starts to lovingly kiss you on the contrary to his brutal thrusts. "you did so well for me, my sweet. now, let's make you cum as i've promised."

[lilacxquartz]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS pt. 2

choso x gn!reader

ao3 • masterlist << previous part • next part >>

summary: stumbling upon a strange man while deeply lost on halloween night in the subway, you find yourself quickly in trouble.

tags/warnings: some violence, yandere, reader insert, season 2/shibuya arc references/potential spoilers

a/n: decided to continue this one after all, after this chapter you can expect one more conclusive chapter.

You stared at the man before you, unsure what to think.

In an attempt to tug back your wrist from his almost desperate hold, you found that he wasn’t letting go of you.

The air around the station started to feel thicker, heavier and almost suffocating. The flickering overhead lights were starting to make you nauseated too. The longer he held onto you, the more it seemed as though the walls around you were closing in.

Choso, as you learned the man was now called, pulled you along beside him as you both walked. While being in his presence didn’t feel immediately dangerous, you could tell that something darker was brewing within him as if there was more to him than he let on.

You occasionally looked up at him, watching him pass through the subway with a determined glint in his eyes. Even though he walked with an unwavering stride, his destination locked in mind, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on you whenever he felt you were potentially straying away.

Such an interaction left you feeling confused as you were unsure as to why he was suddenly helping you with such drive despite the shaky first impression. You didn’t quite understand why there was so much danger down here to begin with, but his serious demeanour was convincing enough so you trusted him.

Or at least, you tried to.

“Stay close to me,” Choso murmured, keeping his voice low. His fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him.

You could only nod as you tried to swallow away any fear you had. The late autumn night proved cold and stacked with the internal fear that was manifesting in your bones, leaving you almost shivering. Choso’s touch was warm though, surprisingly so, given how almost sickly pale that he looked.

Suddenly, you paused in your tracks and so did he. It felt as though you were being watched and even hunted and upon turning around, you saw a pair of people walking right behind you. Initially, you were relieved but then the longer you stared at them, the more uneasy you felt.

Recognising the confined cursed energy that coursed beneath their unimposing surface, Choso recognised those humans as Mahito’s doing. They weren’t people anymore, just abominations with a temporary cover and being what they truly were, it was no surprise that they were hunting you.

“Stay behind me,” he warned, shoving you slightly back.

Initially, you were about to protest, but then you saw as the people before you became something else completely. It all happened so fast, but their forms quickly became mangled, contorting into grotesque fusions of folded flesh. They lurched forward in a sprint towards where you stood—their movements almost clumsy and erratic—their cold, dead eyes focused right on you.

You tried to step back in an attempt to run away, unsure of what exactly you were seeing but Choso stopped you once again. With a heated growl, he spoke out a warning, “Don’t move. I’ll take care of them.”

His form shielded you from their immediate attack and you couldn’t help but feel your voice lock in your throat. You wanted to scream and ask what on earth was going on, but you couldn’t, with only shaky breaths able to escape your lips.

Choso’s body was tense with anticipation, but he acted swiftly before the now turned cursed spirits could catch up to you and cause any real damage. With a raised hand, his fingers formed a sign and shot out what looked like blood from the tips of his fingers, forming sharp scarlet spears that stabbed through the creature’s bodies, causing them both to be taken down with just one hit.

He remained still for a moment before turning back to you and taking a deep breath. His eyes were dark with tension but he forced himself to soften his stance when he looked back towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked you, attempting to adopt a gentler tone. Choso had to remind himself that you weren’t a sorcerer, so he had to be patient with you.

You gulped down your fears, attempting to nod but your legs felt weak, as though they would give out at any second.

“I-I’m fine,” you warily stammered, barely hearing your own voice as your heart thundered in your chest, the pulsating echoing against your ears, “what… what exactly are you?”

Choso’s calm demeanour faltered for a second. That was a good question. What was he? His expression turned almost pained, as if he didn’t have a cohesive answer. He found himself stepping forward, trying to hold onto you again as a way to both comfort you but also himself.

“It’s not easy to explain,” he said with a strained tone, the flashback of his fabricated memories still fresh in his mind, “I’m not like you, I was created… not born.”

“Created…?” you repeated what he told you. “So you’re not exactly human? But you look so…”

“I’m what is called a death painting, I believe,” he replied, trying to explain it to you, thinking that maybe if he forces himself to listen to the history he recently learned then it would make it easier, but all it did was torment him. “I was formed in a womb like you, but I was never born. I was made for a… purpose, but that turned out to be a lie because I was misled by someone I thought I could trust,” his voice became more strained, almost rough with emotion, “but that doesn’t matter right now.”

You blinked, unsure how you should process the information he gave you. It was admittedly tough to digest. “It sure sounds like it matters though…”

“My focus right now is you,” he dismissed, shaking his head, “I can’t let anything happen to you, not after everything that has happened tonight.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words as he left you feeling quite strange with the implication. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel wary, as though you were his reason for holding on. While flattering, he was still a stranger to you and a dangerous one at that from what you had seen, so such a thought in fact scared you.

“I… I have done things,” Choso continued to speak, his voice almost trembling, “things that I regret. I almost killed someone important to me but… but, I was wrong. I was deceived…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, “I-I don’t want to be a monster, but, I’ll do whatever I can to protect you, even if it means I have to become one for your sake in the process.”

You could only stare back at him without forming an immediate response. The weight of his words were heavy, especially coming from someone you had just met. A strange feeling formed for you too, though. You knew that you should have been much more terrified than just simply scared, but there was a part of you that wanted to believe him all the same. It was as though his vulnerability had almost touched you…? It made you feel sad for him and what he was forced to do.

“I… I believe you,” you finally said.

Choso stiffened in response, both relieved but nervous all at the same time. He pulled you closer without warning, ensnaring your body in a tight, sudden hug. His arms around your body feel strong, the muscles tight around your frame but you didn’t feel as though you were in danger.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his breath rolling hot down your neck. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what I have to do.”

You nodded, letting him hold onto you despite not having a single clue as to what was really going on and finally, after a long minute, he loosened his grip on you even if he didn’t let go of you just yet.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, his voice less intense now but still just as determined as before, “there’s still danger here but I’ll protect you.”

You nodded again, unable to form a response that time as you let him drag you forward. You don’t know exactly where it was that he was leading you, but you felt somehow bonded to this strange man who led you through the underground space. For the most part, the station seemed empty but whenever there was even a passing footstep or a slight shuffle, he would turn the corner with you and lead you somewhere else. You stayed close to him, of course, not that he would allow himself to let you go.

Something about him seemed to be changing however, his breathing slowly grew more labourers and his expression gradually turned grave. It was almost as if he was distracted, with his eyes darting around erratically, searching for something—maybe someone—that wasn’t there.

Then without a single hint of warning, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Choso…?” you tried to ask.

The death painting didn’t reply right away, still reeling from the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing. Finally though, he finally spoke up, but his voice seemed broken, “I-I… I can’t go on… n-not right now.”

His shoulders sagged as his body melted against the wall, bringing up his knees to a tented fold to his chest. Feeling unsure of what do exactly, you decided to settle down beside him, unsure if it was the correct course of action.

The fear that you felt earlier was still there, deep down in your core. However, you could at the same time understand that he was going through something that went beyond your own comprehension of understanding. You weren’t an unreasonable person. You could feel pity, even empathy for what he might have been going through; it was clear that he was struggling with something, even if you didn’t get the true extent of just how dire it truly was.

“Are you okay?” you tried to ask in a soft tone.

Choso let out a shaky breath, his voice barely audible, “I am not… I’m not okay. I don’t know how to deal with this. All of this. The guilt… the… confusion? I thought I knew what I was and what I had to do, but now nothing makes sense to me anymore.”

His words while scattered, did make at least a a shred of sense to you. You just sat beside him with your hand on his arm, even leaning a little bit. You didn’t have anything that you could say to soothe his aching heart, but you could still offer him your company.

Many minutes had since then passed and the tension in his body slowly subsided as he leaned further into your touch. His breathing was no longer laboured as he fought to regain control, but his eyes were bloodshot with tears that threatened to escape. With one look at you, he begins to cry. He did so quietly at first but then he truly let go; his weeping echoing through the confines of the (mostly) empty station as he finally let go of all the raw pain and regret that he had been holding back.

You kept at his side, offering him your quiet support that he desperately needed. A part of you still didn’t understand him and another part of you still feared him and what he might do, but you swallowed those thoughts away for now. In front of you was a broken man and despite his claims of being a monster, you could very clearly see the humanity within him and his warring struggle to hold onto it.

After what felt like forever, his cries finally seemed to subside and Choso at last wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He then turned his head to get a better look at you and although his gaze initially seemed tender—there was something else lurking beneath the surface—something darker.

“You…” he strained, reigning control of his voice once again, “you’re so kind. Too kind. Why are you still here…?”

You hesitated. Overlooking the part where he wouldn’t let you you go even if you tried to leave, you had a different reason for sticking by his side. “I don’t know… I guess I can just see that you’re trying? You don’t want to be a bad person and it’s clear.”

Choso simply stared at you with an unreadable expression written on his face but then he piped up, finally having something to say to you, “You… You don’t know how much this means to me. No one has ever treated me this way, with kindness… with compassion or with hope.”

You thought that his words were quite tragic, as you were unable to imagine such a lonely existence. It was then that you realised that something had shifted between the two of you. The way he was looking at you now, it felt much more intense than before, almost possessive. It was as if he made an internal decision in his mind and just as you were about to ask him about it, he opened up his mouth as though to stay something.

“I can’t let you go,” Choso said, his voice laced with desperation, “I need you. You’re the only thing that’s keeping me… human.”

You looked at him with some uncertainty evident in your gaze, unable to reply to the bluntness of his words.

“Look, I know that this is… sudden,” he mumbled, realising just how insane he must look to you right now, “but I can’t lose someone like you. Not now. Not ever.”

You swallowed hard as your mind raced at the implication. Just like that feeling you had before, you wanted to break free from this man and run away as far as possible. Then there was that other part of you that couldn’t deny that there was some tension between the two of you—something that dared you to stay, to see where this whole thing might lead. You knew that all of this was wrong and dangerous, but something about the way he looked at you was more convincing than anything you had ever known.

“Please,” he urged, his voice raw and almost pleading. “Please stay with me. Don’t leave. I’ll.. Ill protect you, I’ll do anything for you… just don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Once again, you looked at him unable to form an immediate response. You got it to an extent; the fear of being alone was almost incapacitating and you weren’t quite believing your own words as you spoke them, but finally you gave in, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Choso’s eyes lit up with a strange mix of relief and almost possessive hope and it wasn’t long before you found yourself locked up in his strong arms yet again. This time his hold on you however felt stronger, almost imprisoning as though letting you go would mean the end of the world.

As you sat there, wrapped up in his embrace and secured within the confines of his taut body, you realise that once again, something had changed between the two of you. His hold on you wasn’t physical, but emotional and it was very unlikely that you were going to go home anytime soon.

It was as fate was triggered by you accidentally stumbling upon him because in the midst of it, you ended up giving something that he didn’t know he needed.

And now that he had it, he would never let you go.

[icequeenliafics]

Catch Up To You

Context: Post Hidden Inventory, Suguru has a heart to heart with the wall separating his and Satoru's room.

It was night, it was dark, and Suguru wondered how this could have happened.

Satoru and him were both here, at Jujutsu Tech, at the same time, and yet he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling; alone.

They didn't talk. Not really.

“... Have you lost weight?”

Satoru had tried, his voice light and unfittingly casual, a grin tugging at his lips as always, but he had tried to reach out to Suguru.

And Suguru knew that, able to recognize the silent plea inside his friend’s eyes.

‘Talk to me. Talk to me.’

But he couldn’t find it in himself.

“It’s just heat stress. I’ll be fine.”

He was shutting Satoru out, because he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know how to take the hand that was held out to him.

Because what really was his problem?

Suguru didn’t know. At least he didn’t know how to put it into words.

So what was he supposed to tell his friend? What right did he have to trouble Satoru with that big nothing inside his chest?

The boy had his hands full already, training day and night to become stronger. So that nothing like this would ever happen again. So that next time, he would be strong enough, fast enough, just enough.

Suguru couldn’t keep up with him, but he refused to slow him down.

Satoru would become stronger. The strongest. And Suguru would get over himself. Somehow.

And then everything could be as it had been before. Before Fushiguro. Before Amanai.

They would get over it and be okay again.

Suguru knew it was a lie. He did not know if he would ever be okay again. Not in a world like this. In a society this rotten.

But he had to pretend.

Running a hand over his face for the umpteenth time that night, Suguru rolled onto his side, a tormented sigh escaping him.

He was facing the wall. He couldn’t sleep. It was three in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. Not today. Not yesterday. Not the day before that.

He was stuck. His thoughts ran wild while at the same time, he was thinking nothing at all. He felt restless, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t have the energy to utter a single word.

There was fire inside him, enough to burn a town to the ground, but Suguru just laid there, silent, drained, stuck .

He pressed the flat of his hand against the wall, feeling how cold it was. Suguru stared at it, seeing nothing, of course. He stretched his fingers until every part of his hand touched cool, solid stone. Reaching nothing.

Because there was just a wall, a thin border of smooth stone that separated him from Satoru.

“Yes, I have lost weight”, he whispered - his voice raspy from lack of use - because he knew his best friend was right there on the other side, their beds separated by only this thin layer of concrete.

“I can’t bring myself to eat”, he whispered, running his thumb over hard stone, imagining it was Satoru’s soft skin. “I barely feel hungry anymore. Everything seems to taste like a curse lately.”

Suguru felt his lungs tighten around the hollow inside his chest, his dry eyes prickling with tears that wouldn’t fall. He felt miserable.

“But I don’t know how to tell you any of that”, he rasped, fingers stilling against the cold stone. “Because you are so unaffected by it all. Because you’re stronger than me.”

He let his hand slide down, letting it fall onto the sheets. Now that he was talking about it to Satoru, he felt a small sense of relief. Eyes growing heavy, limps prickling sickly from sleep deprivation.

“Or maybe you’re just more oblivious than me”, Suguru whispered, his tongue heavy inside his mouth. “Either way … I don’t want you to lose your smile. Don’t want you to feel like I do.”

He was teetering on the edge of consciousness now, but he felt like he had to keep talking, to explain himself. Like Satoru could actually hear him. Like he could understand.

“So, I’ll get through this alone”, he mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Get my shit together … and then I’ll return to your side … and we’ll be okay … you’ll be the strongest … and I’ll follow behind.”

His fingertips graced the wall.

“I’ll catch up to you”, he said with the last remnants of consciousness  “Wait for me, Satoru.” His eyes fell shut. “Please…”

He slipped away and there was nothing. There was finally nothing.

+

Found this in one of my notebooks. There was supposed to be a second part where Suguru wakes up from Satoru having a nightmare about Toji cutting him up. So, they realize they're both struggling and don't have to go through it alone. Buuuut I've moved on.✨

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (Part 5)

I’ve been making a lot of progress on Incredibles au fics lately haha. Here we are at part five, checking in with the Wild, Hyrule, Twilight and Time group! Things are really picking up now...

Mild injury warning, along with a little violence and some guns being shot.

First | Previous | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Wild was dragging behind.

He knew he was, and it was driving him crazy, but moving faster took so much effort now. Was this how everybody else had to run? It was awful. His feet felt so heavy, and his arms too, and his head, and legs, and lungs... it was like his whole body had been stuck in a big vat of honey.

At least they could only go so fast anyway, considering that Twilight frequently lost control and careened into a wall. Wild felt bad for him, but also couldn’t help a few snickers at the frequency of his speed-related crashes. Especially with their dad in his arms. He made an awfully cute bunny.

Hyrule was the one he really felt bad for though. He still looked so shaken, and occasionally little panicked spurts of flurries escaped his fingertips. Wild would be the last to suggest his mom’s powers weren’t cool, but he was a teeny bit jealous that he hadn’t gotten ice to shoot out of his hands. Plus maybe Hyrule would be a little calmer without ice randomly spirting from his fingertips.

How come Mom can’t shoot horses out of her hands or something? That would be cool.

...I hope she and everyone else are okay.

“Wild, keep up,” his father called, and Wild bit back a growl when he realized just how far behind he was. Stupid scientist. Stupid mixed-up powers. Stupid—

Wild finally caught up with the others again, his dad giving him a sympathetic look. Wild ignored it, and kept plodding forward, trying to not think about his heavy feet. They were trying to make it to the elevator, Twilight sheepishly admitting he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle stairs, but it was taking forever to get down the hallway they were pretty sure led there.

As Wild dragged himself along, half-listening to Twilight talking to Hyrule, something hit his ear, a noise somewhere that he didn’t recognize. Wild stopped in his tracks, then tilted his head to try and listen to it.

It was something squeaky almost, a distant sound he couldn’t really make out too well. But something about what he could hear made him want to follow it, and... stop the sadness he could hear in the sound.

“Wild? Is something wrong?” Hyrule asked, looking back at him.

“No, I... maybe? I hear something,” Wild admitted, and they all drew to a stop.

“What kind of something?”

“Like... crying? Like someone’s upset? It’s not words, exactly, I... oh, maybe it’s an animal,” Wild realized. “Can Mom hear other animals too?”

“She can only really understand ones with hooves, but she can get the gist with other animals sometimes,” Twilight spoke up. “I mean, she understands me when I’m a wolf at least.”

“That’s merely because she’s had lots of practice with you,” their father spoke up, nose twitching. “And the blood relation likely affects that. But yes, she can somewhat understand other animals.”

Wild frowned and tilted his head again, listening.

“You said it sounded like crying?” Twilight asked worriedly, and Wild nodded.

“Yeah... sort of. It’s hard to explain.”

The noise he could hear was a squeaky sort of cry, faint, but just legible enough for Wild to make it out. And though there were no words, somehow he knew whatever was making the sound was afraid.

“I think I need to help it,” Wild said quietly, and Hyrule hesitated.

“But our powers...”

“I don’t think this’ll take long,” Wild reassured. Though it would take even less long if I had my proper powers. “And...” He turned towards a hallway, staring down it. “...I think it’s right over there.”

“I can hear it too,” Time said, and frowned, a floppy ear swiveling around. “It’ll be a quick detour, let’s go.”

“But our powers... ohh okay,” Hyrule sighed, and followed after them all.

Wild led the way, slow as he was, but he wasn’t thinking about it as much as he listened to the sound. It only got louder as he walked, and Wild focused all his attention on the whimpering squeaks ringing through the hallway. He came to a stop at one of the last doors in the hall, the noises obviously coming from behind it, and he turned the handle.

The door slowly moved open, Wild relieved it wasn’t locked. He cautiously poked his head inside, and along with his siblings and dad, looked around for any kind of threats.

The room that met him was dim, but there were enough lights for Wild to see. Small cages were set on various surfaces, all empty as far as Wild could tell, and nobody seemed to be in this room. Clipboards and beakers and random other pieces of equipment Wild didn’t recognize caught his eye, and he wandered among them in mild interest, still listening for the small cries as the others came in behind him.

He heard one, louder now that he was in the room, and followed the sound past some tables laden with big sciencey stuff he didn’t recognize.

Then he saw the last cage.

It was really small, maybe about as tall as two shoeboxes stacked together. Something pale was curled up inside of it, and as Wild stepped forward, a blue head rose up, golden eyes settling on him.

Wild froze as they locked gazes, and Twilight gasped.

“Oh my gosh. A blupee,” Twilight whispered as Wild approached the cage, his voice awed.

“A what?” Hyrule asked, and Twilight swallowed.

“A blupee, they’re legendary creatures, I’ve read about them in stuff. They were thought to either be extinct or just... not exist,” he whispered.

Time stood up in his arms to get a better look, and Wild hesitantly extended a hand, setting it against the bars of the cage. The little creature watched him in silence, and Wild murmured in a soothing way almost instinctively, which made its feathery antennae perk up.

It moved towards where Wild’s hand was pressed against the cage, and rubbed against it, silky fur brushing against his fingers.

“How did the scientist guy get one of these?” Wild asked in amazement, and Time hopped out of Twilight’s arms, sniffing around at some of the materials on the tables.

“I don’t know, I... this is crazy,” Twilight spluttered, his eyes huge as he watched Wild pet the blupee. “This is like— this is like finding a unicorn, Wild! Most people don’t think they ever even existed!”

“Cool,” Wild grinned, still petting. They had a handful of kid books still around the house that had blupees in them, and Wild would recognize the heart-shaped face and golden eyes anywhere. He looked around for the latch of the cage, and frowned at the signs of wear on the bars, tiny useless scratches made on them. “...It looks like he’s been here a while.”

“I think you’re right,” Time said grimly, and Wild looked over, quickly biting his lip to stop himself from laughing at his father. His head had turned invisible, and he obviously hadn’t realized it.

“Did you find something, Dad?” Hyrule asked with a smile he tried to hide, and Time hummed, and probably nodded as well.

“Yes. These are all notes on genes and cloning... I think this scientist made our friend here.”

Wild looked at the blupee again, and it stared back, cocking its head to the side as it looked at him. It’s face was almost owlish, heart-shaped and paler blue than the rest of its fur. It’s body was more rabbit-like, and between the color of its fur and the odd antennae-ear things on its head, it really did look like something out of a storybook rather than a real animal.

Yet I’m standing here petting it, he thought in wonder, running a finger along silky fur again.

“Well gene stuff would explain some things I guess,” Twilight murmured, hesitantly offering his finger for the blupee to sniff. “I wonder how he did it.”

“Beats me. Maybe— hey wait a second, why is he trying to mess with us?” Wild asked, frowning at the thought he’d just had. “He can make extinct animals! He could be using this technology for all kinds of good sciencey stuff, why do illegal things with it?”

“I don’t know. But perhaps he wasn’t just interested in cloning back practically mythical species,” Time frowned, his fuzzy head shimmering back into view. “He did seem rather obsessed with our powers. I think it’s even more important that we go stop him.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said as he turned around, then accidentally ran headlong into a table and went sprawling onto the ground with a bang. “...Ugh. The sooner the better.”

Twilight stumbled to his feet with Hyrule’s assistance, and Wild found the lock on the cage, jiggling it to try and open the latch. But it was shut tight, and Wild didn’t have anything he could pick the lock with. Not that he knew how to pick locks anyway.

“Oh come on,” he groaned, and Time peered at the latch, furry brow furrowed.

“Hyrule, do you think you could freeze the lock off?” he asked. Hyrule hesitated, looking at his hands, and then the cage.

“Maybe?” he said uncertainly, and Twilight smiled at him as he clutched at a table.

“I bet you can do it Rulie, it’s just some metal. No finesse required or anything.”

“Yeah, all you have to do it get it so cold that it falls off!” Wild encouraged, and Hyrule moved forward with a shrug.

“I’ll try.”

Hyrule put a hand on the latch, then screwed his face up, a handful of flurries sprinkling from his fingers. Feathers of ice began to spread across the metal, and Wild watched in interest as they grew thicker, and colder too. He had to pull back a little at the intense temperature, and snow began drifting from Hyrule’s hands, piling by his feet.

The blupee stepped back as well, and the minutes ticked by, ice spreading across the cage and to the table and floor below them. Wild was about to ask if they should try something else when Hyrule reached out and grasped the latch, obviously unbothered by the cold. He yanked on it, and the entire door snapped loose, leaving a hole in the cage where it had been.

“Nice job!” Twilight said with a grin, and Hyrule blushed, setting the destroyed handle down.

Wild didn’t stick around to listen to Hyrule insist it was no big deal when their father also congratulated him, moving forward towards the blupee. It let out what sound like a relieved chirp, slowly padding over to him and nuzzling against his hand.

Wild carefully picked it up, relieved when it didn’t resist him. It was weird that it was so comfortable with him, since it didn’t even have hooves... though Mom did tend to be a calming presence on all animals. Or maybe it was calmed by a fellow rabbity-thing being here? It did keep looking over at Time.

Time noticed as well, and he padded closer, his nose wiggling. The blupee looked at him, then softly chirped, Time pricking his ears.

“Yes? I— yes, I can hear you,” he replied, and the blupee repeated its chirp in a slightly different tone. “No, I’m not one of your kind, I’m sorry. You— really?”

The blupee chittered some more, and Time hummed along as it chirped, looking thoughtful.

“You can understand him? What’s he saying?” Wild asked, and his father twitched an ear.

“Mostly just questions about us. They’re not exactly words, I’m only getting the gist of most of it. He’s relieved we’re here, though. He says you’re calming Wild.”

“Wild, calming?” Twilight said, and Wild gave him a light kick. Twilight grinned, and the blupee nibbled at Wild’s hand a bit, then settled itself with a little sigh in his arms, eyes narrowing to small slits.

“He looks tired,” Hyrule said as he studied the blupee, peering over Wild’s shoulder. “You think he’s sick?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think he’s just... weak from being in a cage,” Wild said. Somehow he had a feeling the blupee needed to get outside, and be around plants and trees instead of cold metal and sanitizer. “Don’t worry, you can come with us, little guy.”

“Is that a good idea?” Hyrule asked, and Time shook himself, all of him finally visible again.

“We could leave him here and retrieve him later,” he suggested, but Twilight frowned.

“What if somebody comes in and sees the cage broken? And decides to move him? He’ll be safer with us,” he argued. Time sighed again.

“All right. We’ll bring him, and hopefully find a safe spot to put him if there’s a fight.”

“Oh there’s gonna be a fight,” Wild said darkly.

His father gave him a look, and Wild cleared his throat, but didn’t take it back. He thought he deserved at least one solid punch to the scientist guy’s face. If nothing else for the look on Hyrule’s face when he’d first woken up and realized his powers were gone.

“I don’t think there’s anything else for us to do here, let’s head out,” Time decided, and they did one last quick sweep of the room, then headed back out to the hallway. Time directed them towards the elevator, and Wild kept the blupee securely in his arms, its eyes staying mostly closed.

Its fur was soft and silky, almost like velvet, and while it was warm, it wasn’t as warm as Wild would’ve expected. The golden antennae brushed against his face once, and they were as feathery as they looked. It really was a fantastical-looking creature, and Wild still couldn’t quite believe it was real.

And neither could Twilight, based on the fact that he spent most of his time staring at it.

“Say Dad, do you think we could have a pet?” Wild asked innocently, and Time shot him a look as they all piled in the elevator.

“No.”

Hyrule pushed the button for the top floor, and Time began talking strategy for when they found the scientist. Hyrule had to take him from Twilight since his legs were jittering weirdly again and their father’s voice kept shaking due to it, and between that and his squeakier than normal voice, his words were impossible to make out. Wild for once listened intently, idly petting the blupee as Time went on about strategy. Normally he’d only half-listen to the plan and go along with his pieces of it, but this was a big deal. Powers were on the line.

Wild didn’t even want to consider what would happen if they couldn’t get them back.

“We’ll try and touch base with the others, but if nobody is there, we’ll go alone,” Time finished, and shook out his fur. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, are uh... you going to fight as a bunny?” Twilight asked, and their father’s face grew extremely annoyed.

“Seeing as I can’t figure out how to turn back... yes.”

The elevator chimed as Twilight began asking if he wanted any help, the top floor reached, and Wild cracked his knuckles as the doors opened.

Then froze, an entire group of guards waiting for them on the other side.

Someone gasped, and Time shouted for them to get down, Wild tripping when he instinctively went to run forward and do something before the guards could react. Argh! Stupid powers!

The guards aimed their guns, and everybody dove for the floor, Wild mashing the elevator button to try and get the doors to close.

Nothing happened, and Hyrule scrambled forward and put out his hands, obviously trying to make a shield. All that came out was a huge blast of ice right as the first guards fired, but it actually did a good job of keeping their shots from hitting them, and Hyrule hurriedly worked on making the barrier more solid, trying to thicken the ice.

Twilight suddenly bolted forward, his legs flailing, but he managed to aim a punch at the first guard he went by, the man going sprawling from the hit to his chin. Wild scrambled over to where their dad was standing behind Hyrule, obviously trying to change back into a hylian if the look on his face was any indication.

“Ideas?!” Wild asked in a panic, Hyrule scrambling to keep his ice up and protecting them. “The elevator won’t close!”

“They must have disabled it, they were expecting us,” Time said in dismay, flinching as Twilight narrowly dodged a strike. “We’ll have to break past them somehow.”

“Oh, easy,” Wild muttered, ducking down as something whizzed past his head. The blupee squeaked in distress, and he held it a little tighter, making sure his suit was shielding it. “Maybe Twi can—”

Hyrule suddenly cried out beside them, making both their heads shoot up.

Hyrule stumbled backwards, hand held to the small part of his neck that wasn’t covered by his suit, and Wild saw a dart stuck there, brightly colored on the end.

Tranquilizer.

Well at least they don’t want us dead! Wild thought hysterically as Hyrule swayed on his feet.

His legs abruptly gave out on him, and Time rushed to his side, Twilight still running around wildly on the other side of the ice and doing his best to fight. Wild dove for Hyrule as well, hiding behind the thickest piece of ice there was, and the blupee chittered fearfully, huddling down in his arms.

“You’re okay, it’s just a tranquilizer,” Time reassured in a voice Wild could tell he was forcing to be calm, Hyrule’s eyes looking bleary and terrified. “You’ll wake up soon. It’ll be okay.”

Hyrule shook a little as Time stayed huddled beside him, keeping a paw resting on his head, and then his eyes rolled back and slipped close, body going limp.

“Dad?” Wild asked in a small voice, and Time slowly breathed out.

“See if you can get to Twilight, that’s your best bet,” he said, giving him a steady look, then raised his head, glaring at the guards.

Then he leapt out from their icy shield, throwing himself at the nearest guard with a shout. The man yelped and tried to shake him off, but Time clung on to his clothing, scratching and biting wherever he could reach.

Wild watched him with wide eyes, then shifted the blupee around so he was holding it with one arm. He tugged Hyrule’s limp form up with his other, grunting from the effort, but he wasn’t going to leave him here. Dad had said to get to Twilight, so that’s what Wild would do.

With the vague plan they’d had currently in shambles, Wild was pretty sure their best bet now was to make a break for it in the other direction, and hopefully Twilight could carry Hyrule better than he could until he woke up.

“Hold on Rulie,” Wild grunted.

He got as good of a grip as he could on his brother, and then bolted out from behind the ice, cursing his maddeningly slow legs. It felt like he was barely making any progress, and he growled in frustration as he half-dragged Hyrule across the floor.

If I had my powers I’d be on the other side of the room by now no problem, Hyrule would be safe, Twilight wouldn’t have to be tripping around all crazily, Dad wouldn’t—

A guard noticed him and shouted, Time and Twilight no longer capturing all of their attentions. Wild yelped and ducked under a shot that grazed the tip of his ear, and hurried even faster, dodging and swerving all while trying not to drop Hyrule or the blupee.

He’d never missed his speed more.

A sharp pain suddenly hit Wild in the neck, and he gasped, stumbling as he felt at it. Something was stuck there, and Wild abruptly caught his father’s eye from across the room, a cold feeling running up his neck.

“No!” Time shouted, his tiny body flickering rapidly in and out of sight, but Wild could barely focus on him, his legs wobbling out from under him.

He stumbled, going to his knees but still holding tight to Hyrule. The blupee jumped out of his arms, squeaking in distress, but the noise faded in and out in Wild’s ears, his vision starting to give out.

“Duskfall! Get out of here and go find the others!” Time’s voice shouted, Wild blearily noting Twilight’s hero name. Wonder why he used that...

“I’m not going to—whooaa—leave you guys!” Twilight shouted back, barely avoiding losing his balance as he dodged a shot. “Not like this!”

“That’s an order! We need backup, and you’re the only one of us who can run!”

“But Wild and—”

Most of the guards were focused on Twilight now, but not all of them, and as Wild sank more fully to the floor, he thought he heard their father cry out in pain.

“No!”

More shouting rang past his ears, but Wild was beyond the point of understanding. His vision was growing darker by the second, his senses deserting him, and all he could see was a blob of movement where his father had been moments before.

I’m sorry, Dad.

With the last of his strength, Wild made sure Hyrule’s head was protected, and then he fell back into darkness.

[penny00dreadful]

Rookie Mistake

AO3

17th August 2023

Someone was following him home. 

They were keeping their distance at least. But they'd been keeping their distance through the last three turns.

They could, at the very least, try not to make it obvious what they were doing.

Usually someone following him wouldn’t be a problem. Steve was an expert at what he did and losing a person who was tailing him was easy.

Or it used to be anyway.

His back had taken much longer to heal than any of them had expected and he’d been told his chances of walking again were fifty-fifty. Pretty much a coin toss.

But he’d started to get the feeling back in his legs again around the three month mark. While all of it still hadn’t returned and the doctors were unsure if it ever would, he could at least walk again.

He couldn’t move as fast nowadays, though the cane helped. But it didn’t help enough to escape from his followers' sight.

He was slow, he couldn’t run and he couldn’t stand for extended periods of time. 

He could walk for even less. Which was probably why Claire at the gas station had kept shooting him concerned glances. 

Walking to and from there was pretty much the extent of what he could do in a day. 

Barely fifteen minutes there and back, but enough to have him exhausted and trying to keep the pain at bay.

Eddie was gonna lose his fucking mind once he found out. He worried too much. Steve still remembered the first words he heard when he woke up in the hospital.

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear to god sweetheart, I’ll take you out myself.” Spoken through teary eyes and with shaking hands as he reached for him, like if he didn’t touch him immediately Steve would drift back off into a coma.

This was the first time Steve had been home alone for an extended period of time since he'd been recovering. Eddie had looked at him with a stern pointed finger and an order not to do anything stupid.

So of course he had decided he was going to walk to the nearby gas station to pick up some of their favourite snacks. 

They were gonna do a lazy streaming binge session later that evening, complete with a blanket fort like little kids, when Eddie got back from helping at the garage with Gareth.

What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drive anymore. He didn’t have the strength in his legs for the pedals.

And the gas station was just outside the estate they’d chosen to settle in. Eddie had wanted to be closer to his Uncle Wayne and be able to see his friends again and Steve could never refuse him that.

Except now he was limping home, cane in one hand, paper bag of junk food in the other, with pain and exhaustion shooting up his legs, right into his weakened back. 

He could barely even focus on the space around him, he was concentrating so hard on just putting one foot in front of the other and getting home without passing out from the pain, never mind fighting off an assailant.

In his heyday he wouldn’t even have had to think about how he would handle this situation.

Now, however. Now he felt so fucking helpless. 

There was a gun concealed in a secret pocket just inside the front door. If he could just get to it, he might make it out of whatever this was. 

Even though Steve was on medical leave and Eddie was… retired, old habits die hard. They’d never not be trained to be killers and expect something around every corner.

God, he’d been so stupid. This was so stupid. Eddie would never let him hear the end of it. 

Steve would be lucky if he could keep upright once he hit the front door, everything was so painful.

But Steve was well versed in pain. Literally trained in it. Torture, interrogation, field medicine, pushing past injuries to get the job done. Steve had handled it all, always dreading the idea of being put behind a desk. Even now he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. 

No offence to Robin and her job. He’d be dead ten times over without her but it just wasn’t something he could fathom doing. 

There was a mentor position opening up though. 

Dimitri was retiring to spend more time with his family which meant that Steve could possibly be looking after the new recruits in the near future.

Y’know.

If he didn’t fucking die here and now at the hands of some idiot lacking subtlety.

As far as anyone in the neighbourhood knew, Steve had moved to the area with his husband while recovering from a catastrophic fall, which wasn’t exactly incorrect.

The best lies were the ones that had truth in them.

And the neighbours had all been very… neighbourly. It was a little foreign to him. He was used to growing up in upper class neighbourhoods where he would maybe shoot a quick smile and a hello towards the couple across the road but apart from that, he pretended they didn’t exist and vice versa.

But here, though it was a solid middle class suburb, they all actually spoke to each other. 

Bastien would usually chat while he was out walking his golden retriever named Bread. 

Lucy and Anthony, a couple in their eighties, knew everything about everyone and gave them the best neighbourhood gossip. 

Sandra loved hosting a cookout and invited them every single time. 

Even the neighbourhood kids were all very sweet for a bunch of teenagers.

Best of all was their next door neighbour, Chrissy.

She had knocked on their front door with a freshly baked apple pie in one hand and an invite to her big blowout divorce celebration in the other. It was only the day after they’d moved in and Steve had hobbled downstairs to find her and Eddie chatting like they’d known each other forever.

Steve had originally worried they were only being included in these events as the token queers of the neighbourhood. Just so all these middle classers could pat themselves on the back for their diversity but those worries were quickly put to rest.

Their acceptance was quiet. It wasn’t braggadocious. It was sweet.

Chrissy's divorce party had been a wild night full of karaoke, an obscene amount of chinese food and glass upon glass of pink, glittery, fruity cocktails. 

All things that Jason had hated. 

Things Chrissy loved. 

Things she hadn’t been able to enjoy in her own home in years. But now she was free to do whatever her heart desired. 

Chrissy deserved way better than Jason anyway.

She had leaned into Eddie’s side and taken Steve’s hand in hers and slurred that she wanted “what you guys have. You’re so sweet to each other. How long have you been together?”

They had made eye contact over her head with raised eyebrows. 

The start of their relationship was always a bit of a blurred line.

“Seven, eight years maybe?” Eddie had said, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Really?” She’d asked, blinking her big eyes up at the two of them. “That’s such a long time. Jason and I got married after a year. Don’t do that.” She added, pointing back and forth at the two of them. “It’s a bad idea.”

Steve patted the hand that was held in his. “We won’t. Don’t worry.” 

Especially considering they’d already been married two years by then. 

As the night wore on and more and more stories had come out about what Chrissy’s marriage had been like, Eddie had offered, with three cocktail umbrellas in his hair and a Pink Lady in his hand, to hunt Jason down and make him disappear. 

Chrissy had giggled with a roll of her eyes. 

"Oh sure, you big softie.” She said as she lightly swatted his arm. “If he starts calling around unannounced again, then go ahead."

Eddie had smiled, sweet and innocent, but his eyes had been sharp and hard and Jason needed to watch his fucking back.

Steve had been able to convince him to at least give Jason a warning the first time, before he completely wiped the guy from existence. 

But only one warning was all Eddie would concede to with a pout and a mutter of ‘You’re no fun’. 

If Jason couldn’t take a hint and kept coming around after that, it wasn't Steve's problem anymore.

In general their time in the neighbourhood was nice. It was domestic. The area was safe and sleepy and naive to most of the wrongs of the world. 

It was something Steve and Eddie had never had the chance to have, especially considering the start of their relationship had been so… combative.

Which is what made the guy trailing behind him stick out like a penguin in the desert.

He was unfamiliar.

In an ill fitting black suit that looked like something out of a bad spy movie and greasy slicked back hair.

Steve wasn’t scared of him. 

He was clearly inexperienced. 

Or just stupid.

The guy kept his gaze locked on his target, one hand constantly in his pocket and a look of grim determination on his face. 

Obvious.

But he also seemed to be growing in confidence too. Getting slowly closer and closer.

Steve kept his pace slow and relaxed, trying his best to hide the pain and exhaustion he was feeling sinking into his back and down his legs.

And trying to hide the fact that he knew a fucking idiot was tailing him.

If some fucking newbie gang member or whatever was able to take him down because Steve couldn’t help but push himself, he was going to be so pissed off.

All he needed to do was get inside. 

Unlock the door, get inside and he’d be able to grab one of their concealed weapons and take care of whatever this was.

Easy peasy.

Or it would have been easy peasy if not for the second guy.

The second guy who’d descended on him just as he pushed his front door open, looping an arm around his neck. 

He dropped his bag and his cane, scrabbling against the hold and just barely brushing the hidden gun compartment with his fingers before he felt it.

The sharp sting of a needle in his neck and the cold of whatever it was spreading through his veins. 

The last thought that ran through his head before everything went black was that Eddie was going to be so dramatic about this.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up but he could take a guess.

It was an empty warehouse he was being kept in, if the bare concrete walls, metal roof and high ceilings were anything to go by. 

The windows were right at the top, only letting the barest sliver of orange daylight through. 

The sun was low enough Steve guessed he’d only been out for an hour. 

The whole place smelled of damp and was shrouded in shadow, the only light being that bit of orange sun and one bare light bulb hanging over his head.

Brimborn Steelworks, he thought. 

He could smell the sea air, hear gulls outside, and the warehouse had been abandoned for as long as they’d been in the area so it was a pretty safe bet.

Just outside the circle of light he was washed in, he could hear muttering and bodies shuffling around. 

About four by his estimation, along with the sound of metal parts shifting against each other. 

Guns. 

Fantastic. 

Just what he fucking needed.

His hands were knotted behind his back, not even tied to the chair he was sitting on. Who used rope to tie people up anymore?

Aside from certain… intimate circumstances, Steve hadn’t had to deal with rope in ages.

Not since… well.

It was usually zip ties or duct tape that were used. 

Much quicker, much easier to conceal in pockets or pouches.

And judging by how he was tied, fingers pointed downwards, inner wrist to inner wrist and just a bit too tightly, these guys had absolutely no experience with ropes. 

Kinky or not.

They hadn’t even bothered to blindfold him.

Or gag him.

Eddie would have never been so sloppy. He could’ve done better than this to Steve with his eyes closed and on a Tuesday afternoon.

If he was at full strength, he’d have been able to manoeuvre the weak bindings of his ropes until he was able to tug them free and kick the shit out of the closest guy until he got his hands on his gun.

Then he’d be out of here and on his way home before Eddie had the time to properly spiral.

But he wasn’t at full strength, he could barely even pull against the binds around his wrists, tugged at an uncomfortable angle behind his back. 

Not a gentle angle and not at the proper straining points he was used to. 

The rope was rough and harsh against his skin instead of the delicious soft bite of the silken binds.

But it was fine. 

He wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s awake.” A voice in front of him said. 

The accent was mostly American but with the slightest tinge of Russian underneath. 

Great.

Two men in ill fitting black suits with their guns held loosely at their sides stepped into the light. The other two stayed behind him, probably as some kind of security or intimidation measure. 

Well, it was nice to see them try. 

Cute almost.

“Hello.” Steve sighed. “Can you guys tell me what this is all about so we can get it over with, please?”

“Oh,” the one in front of him sneered, “he thinks he’s funny.”

“I think I’m very funny, yes.” Steve nodded, relaxing into the chair as much as he could.

The guy scowled. Clearly he hadn’t learned that sometimes having fun on the job was necessary. Helped alleviate stress. “You’re gonna answer our questions.”

“Sure thing, Drago.” Steve nodded. The guy really did look like Drago. Big meaty head and short crop of blonde hair. “Hit me.”

Drago smirked. “If you insist.”

With an almighty crack he brought the back of his hand down across Steve’s face, snapping his head to the side.

He could feel the blood welling up in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his cheek and the heat from the strike blooming over his skin that would no doubt turn purple within the next day.

God, never start an interrogation with violence. 

Fucking casuals.

Steve sucked at the blood pooling in his mouth and spat it at Drago’s feet.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Drago scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops.” Steve grinned with blood stained teeth and a nonchalant shrug. “Scoops Ahoy. That little ice cream shop at the mall?”

“Cute.” He sneered.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you need more persuasion.” A voice came from behind him and a sharp blade was pressed against his neck. “How would you feel if I were to cut your pretty throat?”

Steve ran his tongue over his bloody teeth. 

“Do it.”

There was a stutter of movement as the four of them glanced at each other.

“You think we won’t?”

“No, go on, do it.” Steve pressed his neck against the blade which was immediately pulled away. “You think you can get more answers out of my dead body?”

The guy with the blade swung himself around to face him, digging the point into his cheek this time with a snarl. 

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to give him a name in his head. 

He’d be Knife Guy. 

Didn’t matter. 

He’d be dead soon.

“Or,” Steve continued, “do you think that I’m going to cower to any more of your threats now that you’ve just shown me you’re not willing to kill me?” He laughed. “Never start with your last resort.”

The tip of the blade was dug in deeper and dragged across his cheek, cutting into his skin but Steve could barely feel it as he distantly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside.

No one else seemed to have noticed.

“We don’t need to kill you, we just need to make you talk.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, grimacing at the hot sticky blood running down his cheek. If he was lucky it wouldn’t scar.

If they were lucky it wouldn’t scar. 

“I suggest you hurry up, you’re running out of time.”

The four of them laughed. “You think your buddies are coming for you? We targeted you because you were alone and impeded. You had no safety net around you.”

“You sure about that?” Steve took in each of their faces, all looking so confident in a job well done. “You’re right, my buddies aren’t coming for me. If they were, you could take your time. But as it is you’ll all be dead in about,” he tilted his head, listening for the first distant gunshot, which sounded only half a second later, “three minutes so…”

“If not your buddies then who?”

“You guys seem a little new at this.” He said gently, like he was speaking to children. “Have you ever heard of The Shadow of Hawkins?”

Their blank faces told him all he needed to know. 

Fair enough. 

It was a fairly obscure name after all.

And a bit ridiculous.

“How about The Demon of Dresden?” He glanced around. “No? The Bloodyhanded? Ringing any bells?”

Steve blinked at them all in bewilderment. 

Did these guys know anything? 

The gunfire outside was getting louder and closer to their building and the guys around him seem to have finally clued in, clutching their guns tighter. 

Like that would do anything for them.

Steve refused to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Really guys? He’s gonna be so offended.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Well, maybe you’ll know him by his most famous title.” The last gunshot cracked through the air leaving a terrible silence in its wake. “Kas. The Betrayer.”

Every one of them flinched at the name, the colour draining from their faces as a door slammed open in another part of the building.

“He's trying to scare us.” Knife Guy swallowed. “Kas is dead.”

“He was." Steve nodded. "But you had to go and resurrect him. But here’s another one for you.” He grinned again, blood coating his teeth and leaned as far forward as his bindings would allow him, despite the strain on his back. “Who do you think I am?”

“Why does it matter?" The third guy spat, but Drago had a horrible realisation dawning on his face.

"You…"

“Who?” The fourth asked, whipping his head back and forth to look at the two of them. “Who is he?”

“He… you…” Drago shook his head, his full accent apparent now. “You can’t be!”

“Who gave us our intel?!” Knife Guy shouted at the others, also cottoning on.

“You…” Drago swallowed. “You’re his-”

“Sweetheart!” Eddie’s voice echoed around the warehouse seeming to come from all directions and none all at once.

Knife Guy was by his side in a flash with a fist in his hair and the blade pressed against his throat again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve said, glancing up. “He’s very protective of my hair.”

His fist only tightened.

“Fine,” Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey fuckos!” Eddie was still shrouded in darkness, completely hidden from view. “Tying him to chairs is my job!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god's sake.”

Drago stepped in front of Steve, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest, pointing his gun towards the various dark corners. “If you want your-”

Four loud gunshots rang out, echoing throughout the room. 

Steve felt the warm splatter of blood across his face.

Four bodies fell to the floor, a clean bullet wound through three of their foreheads.

Knife Guy, the one who had his hand in Steve’s hair was screaming in agony, clutching his blown apart knee.

“An hour, sweetheart.” Eddie’s figure stormed out of the dark, coming to a stop just in front of him. He still had grease from the garage streaked over his cheek and embedded into the creases on his hands to go along with the copious amount of other people’s blood spattered all over his body. “I leave you alone for one hour and I have to answer a call from a worried Chrissy checking to see if everything's okay because our front door is wide fucking open. How did you go and get yourself kidnapped by Ruskies?” 

"Oh, I'm sorry, please continue to tell me how getting fucking ambushed outside our home is my fault."

"It didn’t start outside our home, did it?" 

Knife Guy wailed again and Eddie looked down on him with a cold glare. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “I must have missed.”

With a simple squeeze of the trigger he put a hole through Knife Guys head and the screaming stopped. 

Steve expected Eddie to walk behind him to cut his binds but instead he just swung his leg out and sat himself down on Steve's lap.

"It started at that fucking gas station because you can't sit down for five minutes straight." Eddie pulled a small pocket sized first aid kit out and tilted Steve's head to the side. "Even if fucking Hippocrates or god damned Florence Nightingale rose from the dead and told you to take it easy, you'd still be ignoring their orders." He scoffed as he roughly pressed a butterfly bandage over Steve's cheek. "And you call me the hyperactive one." He mumbled.

Steve winced, glaring at him as Eddie pressed down particularly hard on one strip.

His mouth was still pulled into a deep frown but he stroked his fingers gently over Steve’s cheek, caressing his face with the gentlest of touches.

"You okay?"

Steve couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yeah baby, I'm good. But they got the angle of my arms all wrong. It's really uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well as an expert in tying you down to chairs, I'd have to agree. How dare they steal my thing. I fell in love with you when you were tied to a chair."

Steve raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief written on his face.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to bring their faces closer but he was impeded by his bindings. Eddie just gave him a feral grin. “Which time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie cooed. “No.”

“Asshole.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Would you mind?" He tugged at the ropes again. "My back is fucking killing me."

"Of course." Eddie muttered into Steve's mouth but never properly closing the distance while simultaneously lifting his weight up. “All you had to do was ask.”

With the bindings now gone, his shoulders and arms felt like fucking lead and the blood rushing back into his hands was causing terrible pins and needles.

Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve's muscles, trying to alleviate as much of the strain as he could.

Steve closed his eyes and groaned, his earlier ill-advised trip was catching up with him again and he was dreading having to walk out of this place. 

He just wanted to be at fucking home, in his fucking bed with his fucking husband.

Or maybe they could still do that naked blanket fort in the living room with a movie marathon and an obscene amount of snacks.

When he opened his eyes again, Eddie was on one knee with his back to him.

“Hop on.”

Steve grumbled but couldn’t find it in himself to argue, sliding himself forward, slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and allowing himself to be carried off.

Eddie was strong and steady under him, barely flinching as he grabbed tight to Steve’s thighs and stood.

Their walk back was quiet and Steve wasn’t looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would have to be filed as a result of this but he hoped since he was still on medical leave he could get out of it.

The sun was starting to set outside, the sky splashed with brilliant shades of reds and oranges and pinks. Now that he was outside he saw he was correct about where he was being held.

Brimborn Steel Works.

Still got it.

When he turned his head back around to face forward he saw that Eddie had driven Steve's beloved bimmer here. 

The driver's side door was flung open and the car was at an odd angle, the direction and darkness of the tire marks behind telling Steve that Eddie had practically drifted into the lot at speed.

There were a few bullet holes in the doors and the passenger window was shattered but it wasn’t the worst that car had ever seen.

Bodies littered the ground around them, all in the same out of date suits Steve’s four goons had been wearing, all with the same guns, all with the same kind of build and all with slowly coagulating pools of blood and brains around them.

Damn. 

Eddie really didn’t hold back this time.

Steve looked back at his car. 

He couldn’t drive her anymore. 

Probably never would be able to again.

They’d talked about trading it in for a model with push-pull controls for his hands instead of floor pedals so he could have that freedom back.

But they hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Eddie had taken his motorcycle to the garage, he would have arrived home with it. Probably seen the front door wide open and a grocery bag on the ground like Chrissy said. 

It would have been quicker to get here on the motorcycle.

But Steve couldn’t ride on it. 

Not as a driver or passenger. 

At least not yet, not until he was further healed. 

So Eddie had come here with the car, either because of hope, stubbornness or pure confidence, knowing he would get Steve back.

Steve smiled to himself, tightening his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck, peppering little kisses on any skin he could reach.

“You okay back there?”

He could hear the grin in his voice as Eddie lowered him down into the passenger seat, turning on his knees to rest his forearms across Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled down at him. “Just… thanks for finding me.”

Eddie straightened up to his full kneeling height, taking Steve's face in his hands. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He leaned up, pressing the softest of soft kisses against Steve’s lips, full of love, adoration, dedication. 

Steve could feel it pouring out of him and into his own body. 

The gentlest intimacy from a man who could cause so much violence. 

Eddie brushed their noses together. “I’ll always come find you.”

“You always say that.”

Eddie hummed. “Because I always will.”

AO3

A prequel fic set in this universe will be dropping next week 👀

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[lemonlover1110]

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 20] The Search

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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Satoru tries to think of where you can possibly be. Where did Suguru possibly take you? He recognized the phone’s location, and it was Suguru’s parents’ house. He parked the car to warp there, and when he appears in Suguru’s room, it’s empty. He exits the room and looks around the house, inspecting every corner. His heart races and it feels as if it’s about to beat out of his chest. He’s scared of what he’ll find– He swears that he’ll kill Suguru when he sees him. Get you somewhere safe and then kill Suguru.

He finds your phone, however, it’s just that. There’s nothing nearby that can trace back to you either, other than your phone. He warps back to his car before continuing his search, and he takes your phone since it can help him. He’s brainstorming all the possible places that Suguru has taken you, and he also realizes that he has to explain everything to Kaya. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll explain everything to her while also telling her to not involve the police. But he doesn’t worry too much about that, he’s mainly worried about your wellbeing and your baby. He has to take deep breaths to calm himself down as he thinks of his next move. 

He has to find you before the baby is born, he just isn’t sure if he can search every part of the world in due time. But he has to find you before Suguru does anything to you– Once the baby is born, your life hangs on by a thread; it hangs on by a thread now, he should rather say that once your baby is born, your life is over. Unless Suguru has other plans, which is also concerning. 

But he’ll find you fast enough, he will. He’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing he does.

-

Everyday you patiently wait for Satoru to come around and rescue you. Suguru took you to the middle of nowhere to live, at least that’s what it feels like. Suguru lets you free, no restraints because you’re just too far away to get help from anyone else. Even at night, there’s someone always awake watching you, and the small house you’re in doesn’t muffle any sounds. 

You learned that Suguru has two daughters– Not biological, they’re like Megumi and Tsumiki. Children that he decided to help. They’re helping him out, although you doubt that they know what they’re helping with. 

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed by– Suguru drugged you before taking you elsewhere, and since then you haven’t been able to keep track of time that well. You’re sure that at least six weeks have passed though. Each minute that passes, you’re closer to giving birth, and each minute that you spend here, you’re closer to your death.

Suguru wasn’t joking, he was pretty serious. You’re sure of it. There’s no reason why he’d keep you for so long. And each moment that happens, every small pain, can suggest the end of your life and you’re extremely anxious.

“Dinner is ready.” There’s a knock on the door of your room, and you feel the same nausea that you had every single day for the first trimester of your pregnancy. He usually wants you to accompany him during dinner, but you refuse. You wait till he’s asleep to eat something, or until he’s not in the mood to accompany you. 

You hold your breath until you know that there’s no one by your door. Your back lays down on the uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling. Each second you spend thinking about a way to escape, you work yourself up, get confident for around an hour and so, and then come crashing down. You can’t escape. You can barely keep yourself up for a couple minutes, running away would certainly be too difficult. You have nothing to do so imagining breaking free is the only thought that entertains you.

The door opens, and you lift your head to find Suguru there. He holds a tray with your food, which is a weird gesture, but you can’t exactly complain about it. You do wonder why he decides to walk into the room to bring you food, usually he lets it sit.

“You know exercising can help you induce labor.” Is the first thing he says when he steps into the room. Of course he does, he wants to get rid of you as fast as possible. You sit up and you take the tray for him. You don’t say anything. You never do. “The twins are sick so don’t be too loud tonight. No one wants to hear your crying.”

“Maybe if you let me–” You begin, and he knows exactly what you’ll say so he cuts you off.

“We’re going out tomorrow, you have to take a breath of fresh air. Enjoy nature before it’s too late.” He interrupts. You inhale and gulp. When he exits the room, you have to put the tray down elsewhere because you have no appetite.

This is all happening because you wanted to get back at Satoru. He warned you. You just assumed that he was jealous which is foolish of you.

-

Suguru takes you to the town that’s near the house which is almost an hour away. He tells you that he’ll buy you a dress because the only clothes you have barely fit you anymore; he’ll then take you out to eat, the last time you’ll ever go to a restaurant.

“Be out in fifteen minutes, we’ll meet you here.” Suguru says while the twins try to drag him somewhere else, and you end up nodding in response. You walk into the small shop to look for a dress that fits, which feels impossible. Especially with the little money Suguru gave you.

There’s an older woman that walks around, most likely the owner of the shop. She smiles at you and you smile back at her. You get an idea as you walk over to her and you feel your legs trembling. Your voice is shaky as you speak up, “Excuse me… Do you have a phone I can use?”

She furrows her eyebrows but ends up agreeing before she passes her flip phone. You think of a number to dial, and you curse yourself for not having any numbers memorized but your own– No one has your phone. Suguru left it there, in the first house he took you. But your thumbs still input the numbers.

You bring it up to your ear and you’re discouraged with every ring. And just as you’re about to hang up the phone, someone picks it up. You feel so relieved to hear his voice, you’ve been waiting to hear it for weeks, and you almost burst into a cry when you hear it,

“Hello?”

“Satoru– Satoru, it’s me. Listen, I don’t have long but I’m with Suguru, we’re in–” You begin, your voice low as you speak so the woman or anyone else in the store can hear, but you have to stop because  you don’t know where you’re at. You have no idea. You ask the old lady where you’re at, and you relay the message to the man that’s on the other side of the phone. “If not, I’m in a small house an hour away. Please find me in time– If you don’t… Please take care of our son.”

Before he can say anything else, you hang up the phone. You can’t risk Suguru walking in and seeing you on the phone. You give it back to the lady and begin to look for the dress. You begin to look for something your size.

Without noticing, the fifteen minutes go by and Suguru steps into the store. His eyes immediately land on you and he grabs your arm. He squeezes and then whispers, “I told you fifteen minutes, didn’t I?”

“Well, I don’t have a watch. Plus nothing here seems to fit.” You respond. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

“I told you fifteen minutes, didn’t I? Why would I give you more time? Give me a reason.”

“I’ll cause a scene.” You reply. “It’s just a fucking dress, give me some more time.”

“Why couldn’t you find one in fifteen minutes?” He asks, and you bite down on your lip. Maybe because you’re only thinking about Satoru, hoping that he’ll save you in due time. Hoping that he cares enough about you to look for you. So you begin to cry, causing the scene that you promised.

“I’m so big, nothing fits!” You claim, and Suguru is almost embarrassed. The old lady looks at him and he sheepishly smiles before saying,

“Pregnancy hormones.” 

And while he hopes to calm you down, the little bell that indicates that someone is in the shop, rings. You both look at it, and while you were praying for salvation, you didn’t expect it to come so soon. Suguru’s plan was almost perfect, except that he left you alone while shopping. He couldn’t take his eyes off you for a single moment.

“Step away from her, Suguru.” Satoru says, causing Suguru's grip to get stronger. He comes at the right time, and you wonder how he got here so fast but at this moment you don’t care. You dig your long nails into his hand and Suguru removes his hand as a reflex which allows you to break from his side. Maybe not being taken care of for weeks isn’t too bad– At least not in this situation. You run to Satoru’s side, and he grabs your hand. You squeeze his hand a little stronger than you intend as you feel a sharp pain on your lower abdomen for a minute. 

You’re about to let go of Satoru but he pulls you in, and in a blink, you’re elsewhere.

“Satoru…” You say as you look around. You’re on the outskirts of a completely different city. This feels like a dream, a fucked up one at that. “Where are we?”

“I have to explain a lot but… I have to go take care of Suguru. Ijichi will take care of you while I do that, okay?” 

[rilamelafin]

We'll Figure It Out

Fandom: Dragon Age The Veilguard Rating: T Pairing: Female Mourn Watch Mage Elf Rook/Lucanis Dellamorte Tags: 5+1 Things, Falling in Love [Read on AO3]

~~~

His escape from the Ossuary had been too fast for formal introductions. Venatori, demonic experiments, Calivan. Lucanis had barely given his rescuer — an elvhen woman who went by Rook — any information about Spite, only what was strictly necessary. Then, it had been the news of Caterina's death, and his new contract to kill the elvhen gods. He was still reeling from it all when they had returned to Rook's base in the Fade, a place she called the Lighthouse.

There had been concerns from the other two mages — Neve and Bellara — of course. Neither had answers to his circumstance that didn't involve killing him. Not out of the question, he figured, but not the ideal solution. He had a job to do, and he couldn't complete it if he was dead.

Spite threw a tantrum like a child, of course, when denied what he wanted. Lucanis asked for a moment to himself after that, to wait out Spite until he became bored. It was nearly an hour before Rook returned to check on him. He opened the floor for her questions, preferring to get this part over with sooner than later. Bad enough he was an abomination, he didn't need lingering doubts about his abilities hanging in the air. Rook asked him how he had been captured and taken to the Ossuary and, more surprisingly, if he was alright with the contract to help her. As if he could refuse the contract, even if he had wanted to. Besides, he owed her a debt for getting him out of that prison.

"You haven't asked about Spite," he noted when she gave him a warm welcome, as though she were preparing to wrap up their conversation. He was grateful she didn't give him a pitying look.

"We'll figure it out," she answered. They were not words that inspired confidence, though she spoke them easily. "I'm no stranger to spirits, but if there's anything in particular you think I should know…"

"Leave Spite to me. If he's trapped in this world, he has good reason to fight for it."

She surprised him again by calling him admirable for what he endured in the Ossuary, but he deflected. Called himself stubborn instead, and it made her laugh. At least he hadn't forgotten how to do that in the past year.

---

Weisshaupt was an unmitigated disaster. The eluvian had been moved. Darkspawn and blight around every turn. His lungs burned, smoke and rot entering his body with every breath. He'd learned quickly since escaping the Ossuary with Rook that she was a magnet for 'a change in plans'. It seemed every time she made one, something happened to turn it on its side.

The undead rebellion she'd told him about that got her removed from the Grand Necropolis in the first place.

The attempt to disrupt Solas' ritual, which resulted in their current mess with now two elvhen gods attempting to destroy all of Thedas.

The recruitment of the Grey Warden, Davrin, only to be followed by joint attacks against Minrathous and Treviso. She'd saved his city, but Neve's home had suffered.

And now here in Weisshaupt, where Ghilan'nain loomed over them in the sky.

"She's a cloud!" he shouted over the chaos as they sprinted through the massive keep. "How do I kill a cloud with a dagger?!"

"We'll figure it out!" she yelled back.

To her credit, she didn't sound nearly as panicked as she should have.

---

They had all but dragged him back to the Lighthouse; he'd barely been able to stand on his own. Whatever Illario had done to him had sapped his energy, and left Spite oddly silent. How his cousin had been able to use blood magic, Lucanis did not know, but he needed to find out. He could not be that vulnerable again. He — He lost control of Spite and nearly killed the last remaining member of his family. Lucanis' stomach twisted at the memory. The demon's anger as Lucanis was forced to be a spectator in his own body. The feel of his dagger in hand, so familiar but all wrong. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to hold Spite back — to beg Moira to get Illario out of there. Instead, she and Emmrich had needed to carry Lucanis himself out of Treviso and through the Crossroads. It had been unusually quiet — and still was — with Spite silenced as he was. Lucanis wasn't sure when the demon would reawaken, but he knew he wasn't gone. He could still feel Spite, as though curled into an angry little ball in the back of his mind. There was a gentle knock at the pantry door before Moira stepped inside. "How are you feeling?" she asked. It felt like a loaded question. With Spite silenced, Lucanis felt physically weakened — like half of his strength belonged to the demon now. How much of him was truly still left? "I'm fine." From the frown on her pretty lips, that was the wrong answer. "You don't have to do that, you know." "Do what?" "Pretend nothing is wrong. I was worried about you, Lucanis. I am worried." "You have more important things to concern yourself with. Once Spite awakens, I'll —" As though summoned by the utterance of his name, the demon roared to life. Betrayer! Kill. Him! Moira flinched, no doubt struck from the force of Spite's anger and sudden appearance, though she could not hear Spite in the same way that Emmrich could. Lucanis managed to keep control of his body this time. Moira was gracious enough not to comment on the outburst. "You're important to me," she said instead, straightforward in the way she always was. "So you're important enough to worry for." No worry. Kill! Lucanis tried to focus on what Moira said next, but between Spite's enraged shouting and his own efforts to keep the demon at bay, he missed nearly every word. It was why he was surprised when her hand found his and gave it a firm squeeze. "Spite, I understand you are angry, but you need to let Lucanis and I talk." He was always a little in awe of how she spoke so easily to Spite, unafraid yet sympathetic. It was the same as Emmrich, no doubt a result of their respective time in the Mourn Watch. Always talk. Even more surprising was the way Spite always seemed willing to listen to her, though even now he grumbled about it. Still, it was blessedly quiet in Lucanis' mind again. He could kiss her — but no, that had nearly gotten him in trouble once before. "Thank you." "Share your burden with me?" "What would you have me say? I lost control and nearly killed my cousin. If you and Emmrich hadn't been there—" He cut himself off, unwilling to think of just what, exactly, Spite would have done "But we were," she answered, voice soft and altogether too kind for the mistakes Lucanis had made. "And you did hold Spite back." "And what am I to do about Illario?" It was the question he truly wanted an answer to, but was afraid of what that answer might be. If Illario was working with the Venatori — with Zara Renata — could Lucanis afford to let him live? Could he live with himself if he truly had to kill the last of his family? Moira squeezed his hand again. "We'll figure it out." And she sounded so certain, he didn't have room to argue.

---

He cherished these quiet moments between them, seated on the couch in the library, her legs across his lap as she read a book borrowed from Emmrich's personal shelves. His own book — the one Harding had chosen for book club, Mistress of the Scarlet Moon — wasn't holding his attention well, but that mattered little. He was enjoying the time with Moira, late into what passed for night in the Lighthouse, when everyone else was sleeping. One of his hands rested on the calf of her leg, thumb idly tracing over the fabric of her trousers. Their relationship was still fragile — new and not entirely defined. She was patient, content to let him set the pace of… whatever this was. The Ossuary was not yet far enough behind him. Spite, though he and the demon had come to an agreement, was still an unpredictable force in the back of his mind. He hadn't realized he had been staring at the same line in his book for far too long until Moira's hand settled on his, a shock that snapped his eyes to her. "You're thinking very loudly," she teased as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Lucanis closed his book, a finger kept between the pages to mark his place. He hadn't even noticed her setting her book on the table, he'd been so distracted with his thoughts. "Just realizing that I don't know what I did to deserve you," he answered, pleased to see a pretty blush across her cheeks even as she beamed at him. His own emotions were still so tangled with regard to her. He wanted her — he would have to be blind not to — but he'd spent the better part of a year shutting down every part of himself that had ever dared to hope. Hope for freedom. Hope to feel a soft touch from another person again. Hope for a future. There was so little of himself that he could offer her. "You're thoughtful." He shouldn't have been surprised that she was giving him an answer, but he was anyway. "The first thing you did after you settled in here was make a grocery list of foods to make our team happy. You made a Nevarran hazelnut torte because it pairs well with my favorite coffee." "It was nothing." "Or not enough, I remember." Her hand squeezed his again, the lines around her eyes soft as she looked up at him. "What brought these thoughts on?" Lucanis looked away from her now, struggled to find the words. "I am… not the man I was before the Ossuary." An oversimplification, but a place to start. "Yet you still wanted me. An abomination." "Lucanis…" "Spite and I, we have an agreement now, thanks to you. But he is still unpredictable. Still a demon." He glanced back in time to see her bite the inside of her cheek, no doubt to stop herself from correcting him again. Spirit, she always said. "How can you see beyond that? How are we going to…" Lucanis sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he slammed the spine of his book into the couch. There was a moment of silence between them, her hand still firmly grasping his. Moira waited until he finally opened his eyes and looked at her again before she answered. "We'll figure it out." With her, he was starting to believe it.

---

He hadn't meant to start dozing — naked, head on her lap, her fingers brushing gently through his hair — and denied falling asleep when she called him on it with affection and laughter in her voice. He didn't want to waste any time now that she had returned to him. Those weeks Moira had been missing, locked in Solas' Fade prison, had been agony for Lucanis. He'd thought he would never see her again, and that idea had gutted him — to lose her without ever telling her how he felt about her. He hadn't allowed himself to even acknowledge those feelings, too afraid of the marks the Ossuary had left on him. Of course, she had just spent the better part of the night tracing every scar on his body with her lips and tongue. "You still have to sleep sometimes," she teased. Her fingers continued to brush through his hair. "With you here, like this?" He gave her body a slow, deliberate once-over, drinking in the sight of her pale skin, full breasts, toned stomach. A light blush spread across her cheeks in response to his gaze. "I'd rather stay awake." "Stay awake all night? However shall we pass the time?" Moira's question was asked lightly, with no real expectation. That she never placed any on his shoulders, after an entire life of obeying Caterina's commands, was just another thing he loved about her. "Would you talk to me? Your voice is a comfort." A month ago, he would never have asked. Would never have shown such vulnerability. Losing Moira and finding her again had shifted his priorities. "I'll tell you the tale of the charming rogue who stole the heart of a hapless hero," she offered. How she thought so little of herself, he couldn't understand. She had saved him so many times from the moment they had met. Lucanis didn't want to imagine what he would do if he lost her again. "Moira… Tomorrow…" She pressed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing his fears. "Whatever happens, we'll take it on together," she answered. "All I have to do is kill a god to keep you out of trouble. Easy." Her smile was soft, affectionate. "We'll figure it out." Looking in her eyes, feeling her skin against his, he believed her. Lucanis reached out and cupped the back of her head, drawing her in to kiss her. Whatever tomorrow brought, he didn't want to waste another moment when he could taste her on his lips instead.

---

She stood before Lucanis now, possibly their last moment to speak to one another before they faced Elgar'nan. It wouldn't be their last moment ever — he would make certain of that. Spite was restless, eager to enter the next fight and he done with all of this, but Moira was a balm to both of their spirits. Lucanis had shown her a dozen different ways the night before how he felt about her, how important she was to him. Yet here she stood, anxiety curling over her shoulders enough for him to notice. "If I'd never gone to the Crows," she said. "If I'd never found you… I'm just so grateful I did." There was fear in her voice. Was she truly so uncertain of his affection for her, even now? He was a bit ashamed to realize he'd never before expressed it in words. "As am I," he answered. "More than I've ever told you. Rook… Moira… saying I owe you my life is not enough. You know my mind." She had walked through it herself — had faced each of his insecurities since he'd left the Ossuary physically, if not mentally. "I've assumed you know my heart because… it beats for you. It's been beating—" His throat felt tight and there were tears gathering in her eyes. Lucanis took a breath. "When I wanted you. When I was afraid to want you… Tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms, and I will kill any god you ask." There was nothing she could ask of him that he would refuse. "Lucanis," she whispered. "I—" Spite reminded him, ungraciously, that he still hadn't said it. "I love you, Moira. And I won't let you down." A smile pulled at his lips, a confidence he had little right to carry settling in his chest. "Whatever is next, we'll figure it out." Moira broke into a watery laugh, the tears finally falling over her cheeks as she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him fiercely, with no regard for who might be watching. "Yes, we will."

[labyrinth-runner]

Dead Girl Walking Version One

Summary: Reader bombs at a sorority rush party and decides she has to drop out... but not before she bangs her roommate, Lawrence “Beetlejuice.” 

Warnings: 18+ Only. This is like PWP. Reader has female bits. 

Pairings: Musical! Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count: ~2500

The smoggy haze of weed got to your head. You hadn’t even been smoking, but there was just so much of it at the party that you couldn’t escape the contact high. It made you giggly. And hungry. So you drank more booze, because you vaguely remembered someone saying that when you’re hungry you’re actually thirsty so you should drink more. So it only made sense to have another shot, right? But the booze table was over by the stoners, so you ended up smelling more of the ganja and well… it was a vicious cycle to say the least. A vicious cycle that ended in you hurling on the shoes of the sorority president. You thought movies were exaggerating when something happened and the music stopped and everyone gets quiet, but then you found yourself in that exact situation.

“You’re dead. Kiss any social life you think you had goodbye,” Heather said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t drop out by Monday, you’re going to wish you’d gone to community college instead.”

She thought she was sooooo tough. But, still, the threat of your social life’s demise freshman year was essentially the same as a mafia hit. Heather might as well have threatened to have you sleep with the fishes. Isn’t it weird how the plural of fish is still fish, but people say “sleeping with the fishes”? You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time for stupid thoughts like that. You wove your way through the crowd that parted like the sea (A-haaaa sea, home for the fishes… Fish) and slunk your way out into the street.

Steam came up through the subway grates in the sidewalk as your combat boots clunked down the road. Subway steam was always gross. It was a hot smog that seeped into your pores and stung your nose. The walk home was longer than the uber to the party had been, but it helped you sober up more as you kept going.

That was when the panic began to set in.

Your social life was over. You wouldn’t be able to set foot in another sorority house—not that you absolutely had wanted to join one in the first place, but it had been part of the deal you’d made with your mom so that she’d pay for college. If you at least rushed, then she’d pay for 75% of it. If you made it into her old haunt, she’d pay for it all. Now, you’d be footing the bill of your entire degree.

Fuck.

Maybe you should just drop out. It was early enough in the semester. You could transfer back to your community college and say you were homesick. That might just work. Mom couldn’t fault you for missing her. You crashed through your front door after fumbling with the lock for a bit.

“Shit,” you muttered, hitting your hip against the table in the hall. The house was dark, but you could see the shadows from the tv in the living room dancing across the doorway. Lawrence must still be up watching god knows what on the “boob tube” as he called it. Your room was down the hall. Posters were taped at angles on the wall because you thought it looked cool. Your duffel bag was still hap-hazard in your closet from where you’d chucked it after move in day. Fabric slipped through your fingers as you grabbed whatever you could from your drawers, shoving it into the bag as fast as you could. You could practically hear your mom talk about how wrinkles form by doing what you were doing but you didn’t give a flying fuck.

“FUCK!” You heard Lawrence say from the living room.

You paused in your packing. No one was going to see you here again. You might as well have one last meal before you went. Besides…. You always had a soft spot for Lawrence “Beetlejuice”, or “Beej” or “The Juice Man” as he sometimes called himself. You wouldn’t have to live with him if it went wrong. You might as well…

Fishnets snapped against your thigh as you tugged them on. You took a look into the mirror hanging on the back of your door. Black corset, check. Lacey, cheeky underwear, check. Fishnets, check. Combat boots, check. Still, you needed something. A robe! You pulled the gag gift from your closet. It was dramatic and sexy and your best friend from high school got it for you for your 18th birthday as a joke that you could finally seduce all of those creepy old dudes that would tell you to smile while you waited for the bus. Now, a whole year later, you found yourself pulling the silk fabric up over your shoulders. You tied the bow loosely, but still had enough to play with. Good. You wanted to toy with Lawrence. Give him a show.

You slunk down the hall until you were in the doorway of the living room. Leaning against the doorway, you tried to appear as sexy as you could, swinging the excess of your tie in circles. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, babes,” Lawrence said, casting a quick glance at you before fully starting to gawk at you. “How was the—” he trailed off, watching as you slowly started to undo your robe, revealing your cleavage. He swallowed a lump as you playfully trailed your hand down your chest.

“How was the what, Beej?” You pulled up off the doorway.

“The party?”

“Awful.” You watched as his breathing sped up as you strutted over towards him. “I’m dropping out. My social life is over.” You stepped, placing your booted foot on the couch between his legs, toe dangerously close to his crotch. Placing your elbow on your bent knee, you leaned your head on your hand and smiled at him sweetly. “Do you know what I am, Beej?” Your voice was almost sing-song.

His hand tentatively slid up your calf, his eyes almost rolling back into his head at the feel of your fishnet thigh highs beneath his skin. “What’s that, Babes?”

“A dead girl walking. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Lawrence swallowed. He shook his head.

You smirked, swinging your other leg over his leg so you could sit on his thigh. “I’ve decided I must ride you ‘til I break you.” You dragged yourself over his leg, reaching out to grab hold of his sweatshirt hoodie to yank his mouth to yours. It was a hard kiss, full of need.

It was like a switch flipped in your roommate. He started to kiss down your chest towards the neckline of your corset as he pushed your robe off your shoulders until the fabric pooled around your waist. His beard tickled against your skin in a way that felt so delicious that all you could do was sink your hands in his green-dyed hair and hold him closer. He nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. His hands slid down to wrap around your ass, one hand continuing it's decent down your thigh until it hooked behind your knee. He yanked you over, fully pulling you into his lap. Only then could you feel how hard he was for you. You ground into him, hard and slow. He leaned his head back against the couch, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. He eyes were wide with lust.

“Beej—”

He cut you off, kissing you hard. His tongue tangled with yours, fighting for dominance that you weren’t quick to give him. He left you feeling breathless and wanted, and something was hammering in your chest that you wished would stop because if it kept going then that would mean that you wanted this. You wanted Lawrence to fuck you because you wanted Lawrence, and not just because you wanted to fuck shit up before you dropped out. Had you been tiptoeing around these feelings the entire time? You kissed him back harder, willing it to mean nothing.

You took his hands, placing one on your ass and the other on your chest, encouraging him to squeeze and grope. Your own hands went to the band of his sweatpants, sliding your hand down into them. You moaned against his mouth as you felt his length in your hand. He was going to feel amazing.

You pushed him back, breaking the kiss to pull up his sweatshirt. “Strip, Beej.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He scrambled to pull it up over his head, along with his shirt. He looked at you weird before wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you.

“Beej, where are we—” He cut you off with a kiss, slamming your back into the wall in the hall.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on the couch,” he said, pulling back. His eyes had softened slightly, and you didn’t know how to respond except with a nod. “Good.”

He kissed you again, harder, his one arm sliding up your back as your legs gripped him tightly. He stumbled backwards into your room, falling on top of you on your bed. You used your heels to push his pants down. Taking the hint, he pushed them down the rest of the way, kicking them off, standing in front of you in just his boxers. His hands reached for your corset, unhooking the front until you spilled out in all your glory and he could drop the garment onto the floor with his pants. Lawrence’s mouth was on you in seconds, sucking hot, wet kisses to your chest, leaving marks that you knew would still be there in the morning. He took your nipple in his teeth, rolling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Your back arched off the bed and towards him. You felt, more than heard him chuckle against your skin.

“You must really want me, Babes.”

You rolled the two of you over so that he was under you. “Shut up, Beej.” You sunk your hand into his underwear and gripped him, pumping agonizingly slow. “Come on, Beej. Fuck me. You know you want to.”

Somehow you needed him to make the first move, regardless of the fact that you had been the one deciding to seduce him. You needed him to take you because then you would be just another notch in his swiss cheese bedframe and you wouldn’t have to admit that you wanted to be more than just a conquest.

His hands came up your thighs, fingers splayed. His hands settled on your hips before snapping the band of your underwear. “These have to come off first.”

You swung off him long enough to shimmy out of them, laying on your side next to him. His eyes trailed your body and you felt awkward, like you should cover yourself.

“You’re beautiful, Babes,” was all he said before kissing you again. It was a different kind of kiss. It still left you breathless, but this was more passion than lust. You’d had your fair share of drunk lusty kisses. This… this was passion. This was need and want with just a touch more sprinkled in. His hand cradled the base of your neck as he pulled you back into his lap. You absentmindedly clocked the fact that he was no longer wearing his underwear either as you felt his dick brush up against your entrance. You whined against his mouth, feeling him slide himself back and forth through your slick before setting his head at your entrance. You were waiting in suspense until he slowly entered you, biting your lip as he bottomed out.

You had never felt more full in your life as he rolled you onto your back.

And then he started to move.

And Jesus Fucking Christ did he deliver. Lawrence pounded into you as if he could leave some internal mark that would permanently mark you as his. You tried your best to match his strokes, slamming your hips into his with the same velocity, but he was frenzied and you just wanted to give yourself over to the pleasure. But you also wanted to fuck him back. To make him feel just as needy as you. To help him reach his pleasure as you felt yourself ratcheting up towards your own. The familiar heat built deep in your belly as every muscle in your body began to tighten. It was imperceptible at first, but then even Lawrence was commenting on it.

“Fuck, Babes. Just like that. Fuck, I’m yours if you want me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight,” he was babbling into your shoulder as he relentlessly rocked into you. “Milk me dry, Babes.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He shuddered on top of you, and began to lose his rhythm. His hand came down and hooked around your knee, pushing your leg towards your chest.

“Beej!” You cried out with the new angle. It was almost too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You felt yourself hovering towards the edge of your inner precipice, just wanting to throw yourself over and crash into the abyss, taking Lawrence down with you. His hand slipped between your bodies. His thumb pressed fast, desperate circles around your clit and you lost it, unable to hold on anymore. It was as if every muscle in your body snapped like a rubber band. The only thought in your mind was Shattered. Shattered. Shattered. As you fell into an oblivion of bliss.

“Fuck.” Lawrence collapsed on top of you, kissing you hard as he found his own release. Your arms felt like Jell-O as they came up to circle around his back, holding him close. His breathing was ragged as he flipped you over so that you were laying against his soft, sweaty, dadbod chest. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said, drawing circles on our back with his thumb. His black fingernails titillated your skin.

“My social life is over. What else is there for me here?” you asked, tilting your head up to look up at him.

His blue eyes trailed down your face before looking away. He was blushing. “Me. Let me be your home, Babes. I’ll resurrect the dead girl and give her life.”

You kissed his cheek, hitting acceptance. “I love you, Lawrence.”

He hugged you close and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, Babes.”

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 41

PREV

Two and a half hours into the Banquet and FF had not moved from the chair he had sat in at the start of the banquet. He hadn’t gotten up for water. Hadn’t gotten up to go to the bathroom. Hadn’t gotten up to dance despite Nicky’s pleading. He hadn’t even gotten up when a Raven had come over and asked him to.

He was not leaving his seat.

The stadium could be on fire and he’d still try to be the last one out.

Until there was a time where he could slide out of this chair without a single eye on him and put on his winter jacket without it seeming strange he was going to remain seated.

The answer on why was under his precisely placed napkin.

It had all begun about an hour and fifteen minutes ago, not that FF was counting. Dinner had been wrapping up and people had started to get up and jostle about. Flirtations were flying across the table and generally over FF’s head. The team had been smiling, there’d been laughter, and it had seemed unlikely for anything to go wrong.

He relaxed and that’s where he made a mistake.

FF could not eat the meal served. He’d had his liquid dinner on the way over on the bus so it didn’t bother him much to have a decent looking meal in front of him and not being able to eat it. He wasn’t going to eat so he hadn’t even unwrapped his cutlery, wanting to save the clean up crew from at least his set of utensils. He hadn’t placed the napkin over his lap to protect himself, what danger could there possibly be when he was not going to be eating?

The danger came when a Trojan smacked the table hard as he laughed at something that he had taken as a joke but, knowing Kevin, was probably a serious suggestion.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin so that it fell off of his plate and onto his lap.

Fell right onto his unprotected lap.

FF had looked down at his gray pants now irreversibly blemished by the errant meatball. His mind flashing back to when Nicky had decided on these pants. Remembers how Nicky hadn’t wanted him to vanish in the lower lighting of the banquet.

FF had grabbed his cutlery and put the napkin over his lap, far too late to save his pants, but fast enough that no one would see that he had spaghetti pants.

After that the trajectory of his evening had changed dramatically.

He was going to sit here all night until they were getting into the bus and then he’d have his winter jacket on and it was a long jacket that would cover his mark of shame. You might think that FF could just slip under the radar and go try and clean off the stain or at least hide somewhere less conspicuous.

He would, he really would, except he can feel the eyes of Captain Jeremy on him regardless of how low his presence is. FF entered into Ultra Stealth but Captain Jeremy merely turned to him and asked a friendly question that had Nicky startle remembering that FF was next to him still. 

Captain Jeremy has x-ray vision and can see the wall behind the wallpaper. Captain Jeremy can see colors that mantis shrimp can only dream of. Captain Jeremy is standing in some secret government office pointing on the radar as CIA and Military officials look on going “What are you talking about he’s right here?” with a smile.

Captain Jeremy was the kid that ate all the cheap fruit on a dessert table before he looked at the cake when he was a kid.

It’s the first time in his entire life that he’d been completely unable to slip below someone’s attention and if it were any other time he might feel good about that. Might enjoy the idea of being seen and having the attention of someone like Captain Jeremy on him.

Except FF has Spaghetti Pants.

FF cannot escape the man’s determination to ‘make it up’ to him after Aaron had let slip that FF had a restraining order against one of his brothers.

FF insisted that it was okay.

Captain Jeremy insisted on making sure he had a good time.

FF insisted that a good time for him would be to sit at this table all night by himself. He kept to himself that what would really make it would be for him to sit without anyone around to notice he had spaghetti pants.

Captain Jeremy seemed to think that it was due to the still healing stomach injury and insisted on at least keeping him company then, unaware of the unvoiced second part.

So Captain Jeremy of the USC Trojans had declared himself FF’s banquet buddy. A man that was friends or at least friendly with almost every single player here at the banquet.

He looks around the banquet and sees the various tense standoffs at the other tables. These were men and women who would find even the smallest thing and never let you forget it.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if they realize he had spaghetti pants.

How does one recover on the court when the person you’re up against can remember the cold December evening that you dumped a meatball on your pants? He can already hear the jeering nicknames.

He wants to sink into his seat but he’s afraid to shift at all, worried he’ll dislodge the napkin in some way and the newest person coming up to say ‘Hi’ to Jeremy Knox will notice the marinara stain on his pants.

While Jeremy was distracted he did try to wet Nicky’s disposed of napkin to perhaps clean himself off a bit except before he could a Raven came up to him, “Come with me.” a large Raven Backliner says, jerking his head towards the bathrooms.

“No thank you.” FF answers in return, “I don’t need to do that.” he says assuming that the Backliner had seen him shift in his seat and assume he needed to use the restroom.

The Raven Backliner stood for a few moments as if waiting for him to change his mind but then Captain Jeremy’s attention snapped back, “Can we help you with something?” Captain Jeremy asks and his friendly demeanor had vanished.

“I-” The Raven Backliner started to say before seemingly deciding that it wasn’t worth it and walked away.

Captain Jeremy and him continued to talk. They had somehow fallen onto the SAW movie franchise and FF could admit that he was surprised that the Trojan Captain had watched the series.

“You need to come with me.” A Raven Striker says coming up and interrupting the two of them as they talked about the ethics of SAW. FF believed that it was all well and good to learn to appreciate life but there had to be simpler ways to go about teaching that. Jeremy didn’t disagree, he just also thought that sometimes there were some people who Jigsaw never intended to redeem and those people may have deserved their fates.

FF tilts his head, “Do I?” he asks since it didn’t seem like the ERC had made any sort of announcement and she seems utterly and completely perplexed by his response.

The girl looks at him, looks over her shoulder, looks back at him, “Yes?” she responds sounding so unsure that even FF wouldn’t believe her.

“I don’t think he does.” Captain Jeremy interrupts gaze utterly cooled from the warm one he had been giving FF throughout their philosophical debate.

The Raven Striker looks cowed and FF almost feels bad for her but not bad enough to console her when he has spaghetti pants.

She leaves.

FF and Captain Jeremy’s conversation shifts to winter break plans. Captain Jeremy is going home to his family and he’s taking Jean Moreau with him. “I think my mom likes him more than she likes me sometimes.” Jeremy laughs heartily. “He deserves nice holidays though so I’m always happy to bring him up.” he says voice and features going soft as he looks to where Jean Moreau was standing with a raised eyebrow next to Andrew as Kevin and Neil were having some animated conversation.

FF talks about his own plans with the Foxes and how he’ll be spending the break with them. He thinks Captain Jeremy looks a little sad about that but whatever sadness there is Captain Jeremy moves past it quickly and starts to ask if he had plans to go anywhere specific in New York. He heartily recommends the LEGO store when FF says he’s never been.

“Someone important wishes to speak with you.” An Offensive Dealer from the Ravens says and he looks like he’s about to shake apart as he stands in front of them.

“Who?” He asks, tilting his head and sipping his water.

The Dealer looks at him.

“Is it that hard of a question to answer?” Captain Jeremy asks voice stern once again.

“He’s…Master is-” The Dealer goes paler and Smith can’t help but pull out his handkerchief from his front suit pocket as he sees the Dealer break out into a cold sweat.

“You don’t look well, maybe you should sit down?” he asks with his handkerchief extended in offer. The man looks at him and then the handkerchief and then takes it. “Thank you.” he says 

“Wow a handkerchief? My pocket square is just a fake one sewed in.” Captain Jeremy laughs jovial once again as the Raven took a seat shakily.

“It’s something my dad used to always say.” Smith thinks about the additional handkerchiefs in his pockets. “A gentleman always has a handkerchief on hand to help.” He pulls out a second one, “A real gentleman has two.” he adds and folds the new handkerchief into shape for the pocket square again.

Captain Jeremy laughs, “Sounds like a great guy! He must be happy you took his advice to heart.” he says and it doesn’t hurt that bad when Captain Jeremy is saying it since he’s saying something so nice.

“I hope so.” he agrees and doesn’t feel like ruining the mood.

Captain Jeremy turns his attention back onto the Raven who has taken a seat and his eyes soften on the Raven, “Wow you really are pale. Not a lot of sunlight in the Nest?” he asks.

The Dealer swallows, now visibly the most nervous person at the table which is saying something considering that FF is at the table.”I-I’m just pale naturally.” he denies.

“Sit and talk with us until you feel better.” Captain Jeremy insists, “What’s your name by the way?” he asks.

“Michael.” He answers awkwardly.

“Great, my name is Jeremy,” Captain Jeremy points at himself, “and this is Smith. So, have you ever been to New York City before?” he asks

Captain Jeremy, FF, and Michael chat at length about Michael’s New York pizza recommendations. Captain Jeremy asks about some of the places he has been in New York and the longer Michael is there chatting the more color comes to his face and the more vehement he becomes that Captain Jeremy managed to pick all the worst places by accident.

“You’re kidding me! It was 10 bucks a slice, it has to be good!” Captain Jeremy exclaims looking as if Michael was telling him Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

“If you’re paying more than $2.50 it’s a rip.” Michael insists passionately. “If it’s more expensive than the subway ticket then it’s a racket!” he slams his fist down at the table.

“You mean to tell me that I was lied to by that person I followed on Twitter?” Captain Jeremy asks, appalled.

“Swindled.” Michael insists.

“Christ, I’ve given that recommendation to so many people.” Captain Jeremy and while gesturing he puts his elbow in his own remaining spaghetti, “Oh shit.” he says. Smith looks at the black suit jacket and thinks about a future one step to the left where he had on black pants and a black suit jacket.

“I’m sure it’s good.” FF tries to comfort offering Jeremy his third handkerchief, this one from his left pocket since the one in his breast pocket was a specific color for the ‘look’ that Nicky had wanted. “It’s just not representative of a New York slice,” he adds.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Jeremy takes the handkerchief wetting it with the glass of water nearby and wiping away the excess of marinara and spaghetti. “I’m going to go wash this off and try to dry it for you.” he says holding the handkerchief up.

“You don’t have to do that.” FF says but Jeremy is waving him off as he stands.

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” he says and heads off.

FF turns to Michael, “So I shouldn’t trust anything more than $2.50?” he asks.

Michael shakes his head and turns to look at FF, “Absolutely not.” he says with a smile before FF can see his eyes flick away and he stiffens. “Hey, it’s…” he looks down and the handkerchief, “it’s been nice chatting with you but… is there anyway we can take this conversation somewhere else?” he asks.

FF blinks, “No, I’m not getting up until the party is over.” Smith declines because by this point the stain has set. There is no stealthily cleaning it now that Captain Jeremy has left.

“So, you’ll get up once the banquet is over?” Michael asks leaning across the table and as he does that Smith can see a fairly ugly bruise on the Dealer’s forehead.

“I’ll have to won’t I?” he asks because despite the not-zero possibility that he’ll get left behind by the team again. His gaze shifts to Nicky who is leaning heavily against Matt as the two sway back and forth dancing and laughing. Probably about 50/50 at this point, depending on how quickly FF can make his way out of the stadium.

Michael looks at him and there’s something in his eyes that feels saddened, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” he says before rising to his feet. “Thank you for this.” he says and hands the handkerchief back. FF can’t help but notice how there was a schmear of make-up on it.

The Dealer walks off and FF waves him off with the handkerchief before sliding it back into his right pocket, where he kept dirty handkerchiefs. He lets his eyes wander across the banquet. He sees Aaron and Katelyn slow dancing to a song that is not a slow dance. He sees Kevin and Jean now in the middle of a passionate conversation. Jack is pouting by the punch bowl with a few other Sophomores patting him on the back. Sheena is seemingly trying to flirt with the older bartender. Nicky and Matt have somehow only gotten sloppier in the 2 minutes between when he last looked at them and now. Captain Neil and Andrew are at the dessert table and he sees Andrew offering Captain Neil a chocolate covered strawberry. He sees a gaggle of his fellow freshmen huddled together all sipping their drinks nervously he moves to wave them over back to the table. Threat of the reveal of his spaghetti pants aside he’s not used to be alone anym-

“What the fuck did you just say?!” He hears behind him.

“I said what I said. She wasn’t even that hot! Get over it!” Another mocking voice.

“That’s it!” the sound of glass shattering and all hell breaks loose.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[winters-secret-star-wars-blog]

When The Light Comes From The Dark

Summary:

Against the whirlwind of thoughts, Phee’s voice repeated the question. “Got a name, Brown Eyes?”

The cockpit spun around him. His fingers lightly touched his helmet around his eyes, as if to adjust something on them. “Tech.”

Another phantom touch on his shoulder, warm and gentle. “Head to these coordinates, Brown Eyes.”

He needed to find out more.

~~~

Or the one where CX-2 is actually Tech and everyone deserves their happy ending.

Word count: 4213

AO3 link

“You chose the wrong side,” was all he said before he submerged the clone under the water. From behind his mask, he watched as his struggles began to cease. It served him right. Traitors who turned their back on the Empire deserved nothing less.

The hands peppering the assassin’s arms slid below the surface as well. It wouldn’t be long now. Once CT-9904 stopped moving, he would resume pursuing the target and bring her—

Someone was behind him.

CX-2’s mind always worked fast; a trait he was secretly proud of. Although he shouldn’t have been. Such display of individuality was unbecoming of someone like him. However, it was in his nature. It provided him with a valuable advantage.

Well, at least most of the time.

It were instances like this that drove him to frustration. His mind being able to pick up something, yet his body was too slow to react. And what was worse, he made a mistake. It was foolish of him to think the others would leave their own behind, he assumed no one would be coming—

“Better late than dead, I always say.”

The woman’s words were the last thing flashing through his mind before the world turned dark.

He came to as his body collided with the rocks at the bottom. Aware of the water filling his lungs, he suppressed the urge to cough and began to swim towards the surface. Painstakingly, CX-2 heaved his body onto the rocky bank and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.

“Ace? Ace, wake up.”

He startled awake, unaware of the fact he was starting to drift off. The phantom feeling of someone shaking him faded back to where it came from.

Ace…

There was a strange familiarity tied to the way it was spoken, stirring something in his chest. He was aware the clones were naming themselves instead of going by their designated number, this however… Ace. Was he… was he going by ace before becoming CX-2? It didn’t feel quite right, but at the same time it didn’t feel wrong either.

“Got a name, Brown Eyes?”

He sucked in a breath. It was the same voice from before. The answer to the mysterious woman’s question was at the tip of his tongue, yet it refused to come through.

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was CX-2 and that was all that mattered. The target might have escaped, but some of the luck was on his side at least. He could very well imagine the consequences of thinking such thoughts.

With one last steadying breath, CX-2 pushed himself to his feet and headed for his shuttle.

Tracking down the Trnadoshan wasn’t all that difficult. One would think that after dealing with the Empire and selling the rogue clones out, she’d have enough brains to disappear off the radar.

Yet she stayed in her shady little bar.

The Trandoshan’s unwillingness to give up any other information could be considered remarkable, if only it didn’t stir something in CX-2’s chest. Something dangerously resembling anger.

“Hey, you three. You could have walked away. That loyalty is admirable, but with Cid, it doesn’t always go both ways. Watch your backs.”  

It happened again. The more time CX-2 spent activated outside his chamber, the more these little voices whispered to him somewhere from beyond his reach. Bits of conversations, sometimes even a quick flash of some place or another where he, to his knowledge, hasn’t been before.

This time, the voice whispered a warning. Something told him it didn’t come from what you would call a trustworthy source, but the words rang true. The emotion that was most definitely anger was, strangely enough, burning not on his own behalf, but on someone else’s.

“Remember our mutually beneficial arrangements, and how well we know one another, if you know what I mean. You’d do well to not assume I am just threatening you boys.”

She betrayed them, although he couldn’t determine who ‘them’ was.

In one swift motion, he took out his vibroblade and plunged it into the bar counter. The Trandoshan – Cid – flinched. Her eyes roamed around the bar for help that wasn’t there. The two patrons fled the moment they recognized him as a part of the Empire, although not before sending the bar owner a disgusted look.

“It would be wise to start talking now,” CX-2 said. At her hesitation, he continued. “You didn’t seem to mind selling them out for a quick credit before. Why the hesitation?”

Cid silently turned her head away in shame.

In the end, it didn’t take that much force before she was spilling again, and CX-2 left Ord Mantell with a name of a pirate that’s been in contact with the target.

“She’s not a pirate. She’s a liberator of ancient wonders.”

This particular whisper caused him to exhale through his nose sharper than usual. It could almost resemble a chuckle. That was dangerous. It was a good thing he was yet again alone, as he wasn’t sure he would be able to mask it.

Still, what a strange reaction.

The comm on his ship beeped. It was time to report his findings.

The woman had remarkably good instincts. Even without hearing the alarm, she sensed something wasn’t right and pulled out her knife as she approached the ramp. She even gave the hangar one last sweep before boarding. He kept observing her until she boarded the ship and the door closed behind her. Only then he moved.

In a corner of his soul, he was grateful for the droid’s intervention. He would hate it if he had to hurt her—

He stopped going over the data he pulled from her navicomputer, stunned by his own thoughts. He’d hate to hurt her? That was hardly the proper terminology. He was meant to think eliminate, no?

“Got a name, Brown Eyes?”

There it was again, that same whisper. There have been many, but this was the only one that repeated with a certain frequency. He couldn’t figure out why it was so. CX-2 was aware of the fact he was a clone, so what was so special about it? The phenotypic eye color for all clones was brown. And while he was different from the rest, iris pigmentation was not affected by his mutation—

“Aren’t clones supposed to look alike? So much for quality control.”

“She’s not a pirate. She’s a liberator of ancient wonders.”

“Heh. Looks like you have some competition.”

Sounds of wooden classes dully clicking against each other. The sun setting and the lights coming on, resembling stars in the sky.

“Got a name, Brown Eyes?”

He sucked in a breath.

Phee.

Of course, he learned her name from the Trandoshan, but that was Phee.  They… knew each other. It was a mere feeling, and he was a logical person after all, but he knew it to be true! She knew him… and the traitors… no… brothers… and the target… little sister who was technically older…

Against the whirlwind of thoughts, Phee’s voice repeated the question. “Got a name, Brown Eyes?”

The cockpit spun around him. His fingers lightly touched his helmet around his eyes, as if to adjust something on them. “Tech.”

Another phantom touch on his shoulder, warm and gentle. “Head to these coordinates, Brown Eyes.”

He needed to find out more.

Reluctantly, he punched the comm button. It would be suspicious if he suddenly went radio-silent.

He found them near the Archium. The name of the structure came to him out of nowhere, like many things did recently. The sense of familiarity the place invoked in him set something off in his very core. CX-2 pushed it asked and pressed a button on his arm.

“Report.”

“I’ve got eyes on the target.”

“Ground them and wait for the division. She must be recovered unharmed! No mistakes this time!”

“And the clones she’s with?”

“If they get in your way, eliminate them.”

CX-2 gripped his rifle. He’d have to make sure they wouldn’t get in his way.

No matter what.

The following hour passed by in an odd hazy blur as two unseen forces battled inside of him. On one hand, there was the need to follow orders. He blew up the ship. He gave the order to destroy every ship and skiff to cut any possible escape route off. He was even ready to give the order to burn the entire island to the ground.

But on the other hand…

He could’ve shot the rogue clone, or blow him up along with the ship, it would have been easier. So why didn’t he? He was meticulous about everything he did. Then why did it appear like he gave the clone enough time to escape the explosion?

“I like to blow things up,” the whisper paused before it rose in volume, “because I like to blow things up!”

At the sight of the ship burning, something screamed inside of him and didn’t stop. It blended with the screams of the civilians fleeing the soldiers. Then there was the attempt to commandeer one of their ships, and he couldn’t bring himself to shoot the clone.

Instead, he shot the pilot.

Usually, the crash would kill anyone on board, but for some reason, deep down CX-2 knew better.

He’d told the mayor he could do worse.

Then why was it impossible for him to do so?

Stars, he even lied to the soldiers he’d neutralized the two when the girl surrendered herself. It was like his body was running on autopilot, mouth detached from the brain.

Clearly, it was naïve of him to expect to find answers here. In the end, he was left only with more questions.

CX-2 escorted the girl to the ship, taking note of the look she threw over her shoulder before he made her move again, and set coordinates back to Tantiss. It wasn’t until the ship shuddered as it jumped into the hyperspace that he heard a quiet sniff.

He chanced a look over his shoulder to find the target hunched in on herself, a single tear running down her cheek.

And that’s when the haze broke and everything became clear.

“We’re a family. Aren’t we?”

“Well, uh, yes. Yes, of course we are.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

But he did.

“I may have process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean I feel any less than you.”

His grip on the controls turned white, hidden by the black gloves.

“They call him Tech.”

A good-natured shove followed. “Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours.”

He would do anything for his family.

“We have not always agreed with Crosshair, but he still is our brother. We do not leave our own behind.”

They were going to get their brother back. They were going to be a complete family again, they were so close—

“When have we ever followed orders?”

Tech felt nauseous.  

What had he done?

Running through every possible scenario, he concluded there was no way out of this. If it was a possibility, contacting Echo would be his best bet if he was still with Rex, seeing as he blew up his own ship and cut his brothers off, but the shuttle’s comms were monitored. The imperials would know immediately if he attempted an unauthorized transmission.

Then there was the matter of his internal homing device. He had no means to remove it from his body safely, so even if he changed the coordinates, Hemlock would keep sending other operatives after them until he succeeded at recapturing them again.

Something told Tech he would not be making it out of that situation alive.

And lastly, there was Omega. He couldn’t tell how much time has passed since Eriadu, but judging by her hair, it must have been months. She had an air of maturity around her, but there was a part of her that was easily excitable. It was impossible to tell if she would be able to keep up the ruse if he revealed himself.

Tech couldn’t risk that. Still, it didn’t stop the decision from eating away at him all the way to Tantiss.

Omega eventually fell into restless sleep, and he took the chance to remove the suicide capsule from his mouth.

There was no turning back now. Hemlock was awaiting their arrival and there was nothing Tech could do. As much as it pained him, he gave his little-big sister a slight shove to keep the appearances.

Then he was dismissed.

As the stasis chamber closed on him, he hoped his brothers would come up with a plan to find her.

Find them.

The base was a mess.

Tech categorized anything he could on his way to intercept his brothers. To a certain degree, he was glad for the initial haze the stasis chamber has left him in, as he was uncertain how he would react to their orders if he was fully himself right away. This way, however, he remained undetected.

Positioned at the vantage point with the rest of the operatives, he spotted his brothers sneaking in through the rubble. He couldn’t help but notice their armor stripped of all color.

It was like before their first ever mission.

Chasing nostalgia away, he took out his rifle and aimed before any other operative could beat him to it. He aimed at Hunter and pulled the trigger, knowing his brother would be able to dodge. It was the most subtle way to alert his squad to their presence.

Then all hell broke loose.

Crosshair watched as the other assassins passed a blade between each other. The one who nearly drowned him on Teth let the blade hover over his wrist before it was raised high into the air.

“You should be more careful with your shooting hand.”

The horror inside of him intensified as he became aware of the assassin’s intention. Time seemed to slow down with the blade’s descend.

Except the pain never came.

The blade suddenly changed the trajectory and was sent flying right at the assassin electrocuting Wrecker nearby. The throw was precise. The assassin’s grip on the staff loosened as he fell, the blade plunging even deeper into the gap in the armor when his body hit the ground.

The foot pinning his wrist to the ground disappeared as the one standing over him shifted his stance, took out his rifle in one swift motion and with no hesitation shot the one who owned the knife. The one who was previously attacking Hunter and Wrecker before being stunned by Crosshair’s explosive shot had barely a second to react before he found himself with a hole in the chest too.

Shocked, Crosshair looked up the last assassin, their gazes meeting.

“I mean it.” The tone switched from menacing to more nonchalant and matter-of-factly. “You really should be more careful, Crosshair.”

Too stunned to speak, Crosshair could only blink. The voice-changer was still active, but the intonation almost reminded him of…

The assassin removed his helmet.

“Tech,” he breathed out in disbelief.

Tech reached out his hand and Crosshair allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “My apologies. I was waiting for the right time, and in the meantime, I had to avoid suspicion.”

It was impossible. His brother who died on Eriadu after carrying out Plan 99 was standing in front of him, alive. Although in imperial gear. “How—“ Crosshair forced out a single word, but before he could force the rest of the sentence out, Tech was suddenly off his feet in one of Wrecker’s famous bone-crushing hugs.

“Ah, it’s… good to see you too, Wrecker,” Tech wheezed out. The only response he got was a sob.

“All right, Wrecker, put him down before you squeeze the living lights out of him,” Crosshair said.

After a few more sniffs and being convinced Tech was indeed real and alive and not a fragment of his imagination, Wrecker did so. It was obvious he wanted to ask the same question as Crosshair, but changed his mind last minute and instead shoved their brother. “Don’t you ever dare to do something like that ever again, you hear?!”

Tech’s mouth opened, a retort no doubt on the tip of his tongue, when a groan coming from a nearby rubble cut him off. They all spun on their heels immediately and rushed to their leader. While he and Wrecker worked on getting the debris off Hunter, Tech hovered over him, scanning for injuries.

Hunter blinked the daze away, meeting his now-alive brother’s eyes. He then clocked his other two brothers and sighed. “We’re dead, aren’t we.”

“No,” Tech replied. “Although, you came close quite a few times. We… all did.”

The implication hung heavily in the air, but they all knew this wasn’t the time or place to demand answers.

“Later,” Tech promised. “Now,” he motioned to the burning base, “Echo or Omega?”

“Take a guess,” Crosshair replied.

After a moment, Tech nodded to himself. “Omega.”

“I never took you for a sniper rifle type,” Hunter filled in the silence as they ran through the base in search for Omega. “It’s more of Crosshair’s thing.”

“I am not,” Tech replied, “but they didn’t exactly ask me what my preferences were.”

Crosshair wordlessly held out his blaster. Tech, appreciating the offering, took the sniper rifle off his back and swapped it.

They met with Echo and Omega and all the freed clones near the detention block.

At last, Tech allowed himself to fall to his knees and spread his arms in anticipation of Omega’s hug. He was never too big on physical contact, but this time, it was a necessity. For both of them.

“I’m sorry. Omega. I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s not your fault,” Omega pulled back and placed her hands on his cheeks. “They made you do it.”

Omega was always observant. Helmet or not, his attire remained the same, so it should be no wonder she connected the dots. He wanted to protest, but she was having none of it. She wiped her tears, her eyes sparked with determination.

“Let’s make him pay.”

They surrounded Hemlock on a bridge outside. He was a far cry from his usual put-together look, with his hair being a mess and a crazed look in his eyes.

He lost.

Tech could sense the thirst for revenge from all around him.

Hemlock turned to look at him, their gazes locked.

“You,” he hissed. “How did you—“ he cut himself off.

“You sound surprised,” Tech stated. “It should have been obvious after you failed with Crosshair. I might have been more susceptible due to my injuries after the fall, but you should have known it wouldn’t last. We’re deviant after all. It’s in our nature.”

The crazed look intensified. “We’ll see about that. You’ve been compromised!” he yelled. “Eliminate yourself right no—“

It was Crosshair who broke the tension with the first shot right to Hemlock’s chest.

His hand didn’t shake.

The chain reaction was instant. All freed clones carrying a weapon aimed and shot and shot and shot until the force of the bolts sent Hemlock’s body over the railing into the jungle below.

Tech watched with cold detachment. This time, he was certain. There was no surviving that.

Several pairs of eyes turned to him. He blinked, snapping back to reality. “Your worries are unwarranted. I already removed my suicide capsule.”

Hunter huffed a laugh. “Of course you have.”

It hasn’t been easy readjusting to normal life after everything they’ve been through. Then again, they were never normal.

Tech already lost track of how many times he woke up screaming when the nightmares of Tantiss plagued him in the middle of the night. Thankfully, the comfort was never far. It came either in a form of a mere presence and reassuring words of his brothers and sister, an embrace from Phee, or the weight of the Lurca hound named Batcher Omega tamed and took with her the first time she escaped Tantiss.

At first, he’d been wary, but he came to care for the creature.

Some days were good. Some days the shame of what he’d done as Empire’s assassin weighted heavy on him. Shep’s words were true once again; the people of Pabu were resilient and rebuilt the damage he was responsible for after the imperial forces left.

It… wasn’t very comforting.

During those days, talking about it with Echo helped, since he was the most familiar with the feeling. He hid it well, but the time he’d spent on Skako Minor as The Algorithm responsible for countless of his brothers’ lives weighted heavy on him too.

Crosshair was a great help too. As Hunter said before the mission where they’d saved Echo, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but Tech was content sitting with him in silence, the quiet understanding surrounding them.

However, he wasn’t the only one affected.

It was hard to not notice the look of guilt Wrecker was watching him with from afar, even though he had nothing to be guilty of. It was Tech’s own decision to resort to Plan 99. He even said so out loud, but he knew it would take Wrecker a long time to accept it, if ever.

There were also those worried looks every time he was somewhere more elevated or was walking next to the railing when they were going to the docks. In the first case, they watched him like hawks, ready to jump at the slightest sign of trouble – even if he was only four feet off the ground. In the second case, someone always subtly-not-so-subtly wedged themselves between him and the railing. Omega rushing into various rooms with fear in her eyes only for it to disappear when she spotted him also became a regular occurrence.

He learned the hard way not to disappear on the bad days for too long after she broke down near the cave where he sought the solitude. Apparently, he’d been gone for hours and nobody could find him at any of his usual places.

And Phee…

When their ship touched back down on Pabu, she was already there, waiting for him. The moment his feet touched the ground, he found himself in yet another embrace. There was no hesitation on Tech’s side and he pulled her close.

“I’m glad you kept your word and haven’t run off with any other pirate or smuggler,” she said.

Tech didn’t comment on how her voice was thick with emotion. Instead, he opted for a simple: “I’m here now.”

Phee chuckled. “Better late than dead, I always say.”

“—you always say,” he said the last part in union. “You know, those were the exact words that began the process of breaking the conditioning.”

“Were they now?” she asked, intrigued. “Well, I’m glad I was able to help.”

Tech smiled. “You helped more than you realize.”

Phee hummed, and before Tech realized what was happening, there were lips pressing against his. They were gone as fast as they appeared, but the fluttering in his stomach remained. “Now come on,” she turned around and began to walk away, “let’s get all your friends settled.”

He blinked after her retreating form until a choked chuckle broke his trance. “What?” He saw his squad – his family – huddled together with various looks on their faces.

Wrecker was giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up, Hunter was smiling, Echo was also smiling but more smugly, Crosshair looked like he would be rather anywhere than here, and Omega was chuckling, her palms pressed against her lower face.

“Tech, you’re blushing,” she said, mirth lacing her voice.

“I guess it was inevitable,” Crosshair commented. “You two were made for each other. She flies like a maniac too.”

There was a story behind it, but for another time.

So, yes, readjusting hasn’t been easy, but they managed. They understood when Echo eventually joined Rex again, but the rest of them remained on Pabu. As civilians.

While his brothers took up work in the docks – Wrecker especially enjoyed his time on the sea –, Tech found meaning and joy in teaching the next generation all his skills. It took others two standard years before they allowed him to strike a deal with a person on another junkyard planet in the Outer Rim for him to take his apprentices there to practice their skills.

The agreement was way more mutually beneficial than the one with Cid. The junkyard owners got to sell whatever they fixed and gave them a portion of the profit, or if they managed to fix something they deemed unsalvageable, they got to keep it.

Even then, he wasn’t alone. Phee was always accompanying his group, not that he minded.

“You never know,” she shrugged as she boarded, “there might be a treasure there,” she said, winking at Omega.

But most importantly, Omega finally for to have a normal childhood. They watched their little-big sister grow up until it was time for her to go on her own journey. As he sat on the porch of his and Phee’s own home watching the ship fly off into the night, only one thing was on his mind:

In the end, it was all worth it.

[alwaysshallow]

coffee at midnight, part 12

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

Military consumes your private time - to the point that you pretty much can't live without it. All of the boys from Task Force 141 are just like brothers, not only best friends – you know that you can trust them with your whole heart.

Somehow, one of them manages to steal it completely, and that's on Johnny MacTavish. Over months, you learn that's harder and harder to ignore that burning feeling in your heart. (4,6k)

READ ON AO3

previous part

You need a few seconds to understand what exactly happened in the last twenty minutes. A few seconds to look back, before you’ll leave this room—but understanding doesn’t come easy here. You just stare at the dead guy’s body with a wound in his head, thinking it will come to you, eventually.

The whole time, you felt like you were the observer of the situation. Watching everything behind a glass in slow motion, watching a movie where tragedies happen, but in these moments, thankfully, you’re usually not the participant. 

But here, you were a participant. You still are, but it’s hard to believe that so many things took place under the span of twenty minutes. Not an hour, not half a day.

What is funny in all of this, you had a particularly easy job. Had to be the perfect little spy, find the room, take the intel and run away, so you won’t get caught. Simple, yet, ending up tragically in beating up the guy and taking the pendrive before you checked if he’s still alive. You thought the whole situation would result in you having a few bruises there and there, but you made a mistake like a rookie, so you have two gun wounds.

You only blame yourself. It’s something that they teached you about in the military, on multiple trainings—to check. Not even twice, maybe thrice, if you’re not so sure about someone being dead. Because if the enemy is not dead, you’re as hell going to be.

Or, someone from your unit. Almost the same thing.

It was a reflex, when you grabbed a gun and shot the guy in the head. Without mercy in your action whatsoever, but it’s still a tad too late. There’s a bullet in your thigh anyway, your arm has a wound too. Not that bad, as he didn’t really know how to aim after being hit to the head, but… but it’s still only your fault. Even if he looked pretty beaten up, barely able to do anything other than grabbing your ankle.

It makes you angry. 

Not only the fact that you got shot like a rookie, but the fact that there’s no actual way in the world that someone didn’t hear the gunshot. No matter how fucked up and wasted people are, something like this doesn’t miss them. Music isn’t loud enough for them to skip it, at least not the guards that are watching everything like a hawk, waiting for someone to slip, so they can off them, if they are a problem. And here, you definitely are a problem that they’d want to eliminate.

You scrunch your nose, weighing your options. It wasn’t supposed to turn like that, and now you’ve got to think fast, before someone will eventually shoot you. This time, with deadly precision; you don’t escape death twice like it’s a “Final Destination” movie. 

So, you think. It’s not like you can show to anyone that you’ve been shot; there will be questions, assumptions and it will lead to your quick fall. Or, they’re already after you—nonetheless, you just need to go out of there and leave everything behind you. The guy’s dead, there’s nothing to do here. 

Steps that you take are slow; you pay attention to them, way more than you actually need to, but it’s hard to pretend you’re okay. Or to have your back straight, when you have two gunshot wounds and you need to move because it’s gonna be worse.

Being completely honest and straightforward, you’d prefer to rip the dress (annoyingly long dress) and at least try to look at the wound, estimate the damage, but it’s not an option right now. Even going to the bathroom isn’t one: you don’t know if motherfucker didn’t inform someone about your presence here before he died. He had multiple ways to do it, maybe some wouldn’t be visible to you, God only knows. 

All in all, going anywhere to inspect the wound is more dangerous than trying to get out, even if it potentially means you’re gonna pass out in the car. That’s why you push through with a pendrive in your bra (as, logically, it’s easier to steal a purse than having a pendrive slipping out), papers carefully folded in your purse, and a fake smile that you give everyone, so they won’t suspect you’re hurting.

You also tap the bracelet Alejandro gave you in a frantic manner the whole way to the back door, trying to get past many people. The only thing that is saving you is their drunkenness, the way that they don’t exactly get that you’re limping your way to the outside. 

There’s just a few obstacles in your way. Some guards wander there and there, not paying too much attention, but on your way you have to eventually sneak into the small cabin in the men’s bathroom, when you hear them reloading their guns and running towards your direction. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe they’re after someone else, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Especially when you’re limping, and you can’t quite do the Mission Impossible moves here; not when you do not want to do anything that might cause another injury. 

Because you probably wouldn’t be satisfied with additional leave. You spent enough time off the team already.

You can’t see what is happening, so you just listen. There’s people surely going forward, not even stopping to check the cabins around yours, but at least two are standing nearby. Talking, and you barely can hear about what—and you can barely understand, as it’s Russian and English at the same time. They have a heated conversation, that’s what you can definitely hear.

“...had to run somewhere,” one of them says. Seeming furious—and you really can’t blame them, you’d be furious yourself, if you’d find a dead guy from your team. Because that's what they did, you assume. “Three clear shots.”

The other man is saying something in Russian—you only catch some words, thanks to Nikolai that taught you, and they don’t seem friendly either. So, the moment they leave, you decide it’s the perfect time to go forward after another look or two, when the coast is clear.

You’re walking way quicker than the last time, caring even less about your limping and disguising your state. You realize that your time here is shorter second by second. It won’t do you any good, but it wouldn’t do you any good to act like you did earlier. At least, you think so.

An absurd idea grows in your mind, when you’re passing through hallways: because you start to debate on exiting the building through a window. It’s the “Mission Impossible” move, many times saved your life, but the last cells of common sense tells you it’s the worst idea ever with a two gun wounds. Not only that, there’s too many people to pull a stunt like that; no matter if it’s breaking the window, or simply opening it.

The idea flies out of your mind the moment someone grabs your arm and yanks you into their direction, to one of the darkest corners here. You don’t even have the time to see the person before you start attacking them; first with a kick, and you follow that with a quick punch in the gut; because screaming isn’t an option. With one man you can do something, but with an army? You’d be dead in seconds.

Surprisingly so, it doesn’t work. Or, it does, but not in the way that you think it would. They’re not attacking you, but they give you a little slap right in your butt, shushing you with a quick “Quiet”. The grip is loosening, and when you see Alejandro right in front of you, you realize that the person who is holding you is no one else but Soap.

They both seem to be scared and concerned at the same moment when you look at them.

“Ye tap the bracelet like crazy and then you attack me. ‘S not a good look on you, lassie,” MacTavish murmurs right to your ear, teasing it with his lips. For a second, you forget why you are here.

“Security’s going like crazy downstairs. What happened?”

Alejandro’s question makes you silent for a few seconds. You give them a faint smile, before you actually answer. “Well. I should start with: I had to kill someone—”

“—And you’ve been shot. Again. What were ye thinkin’?” You grit your teeth, hearing that tone from Soap. It seems patronizing, like you’re gonna get a twenty minute long talk about your decisions; and you hate it in the moment where all you want to do is just lie down and forget.

Yet, you really can’t say that you didn’t see that coming. You’ve been together with them for too long to not learn how they react.

“You know, these days I’m playing as a living human target,” you joke in response, trying not to wince under his touch, when he starts to walk again with you by his side. You find it easier to sneak with them—easier or better, as you have in the back of your mind the thought that they will help you, in case of emergency. They’re like bodyguards, making you feel safer than you felt earlier. “That was funny. You can’t deny it.”

Soap looks far from amused, as you can see. “Oh, very bloody much.”

You raise your eyebrow, surprised at his tone. “It’s not like I’ve done it on purpose. Besides, I’m good.”

“We know,” Alejandro says, before even Johnny opens his mouth. “He just has a lot to say lately, amiga.”

And it seems like he wants to prove it to you that he has a lot to say. He grabs you unexpectedly, bridal style, rushing to the car, Alejandro after him. Not giving a care in the world to the two men that are asking if you are good, they’re just pushing through. 

When you’re in the car, things are even wilder than they were. Before you know it, Soap lifts up your dress—without even asking you for permission—almost seeing your underwear, while Alejandro—more clumsily than not—tries to drive to the safe location, as your previous one already got compromised. Johnny doesn’t even react when you call him by his name; maybe that’s for the better because you’re not sure if you want to scold him or ask what he has in mind. 

After looking at your wound (way too close for your liking—it feels like you’re gonna lose your mind here), he ties his tie right above the wound. Tight. Preventing you from bleeding any further, and then he takes care of the second one. 

You thought you’d feel pain by now, but you’re too hypnotized in his movements to even notice something; it’s difficult enough for you to look at what he is doing, not straight at him, so your pain takes maybe the third place in importance.

It’s not a surprise that he cares, not at all. He always cared. No matter what the situation was, no matter what humor you had, he was always here. A loving man, making you smile with every little interaction, making an actual effort to do that. He was just a pure ray of sunshine on every step of your life, and you always knew that you could count on him.

But situations like this one, where you’re taken care of on a mission, gets to you at a much higher level than anything else he could do. He puts you first before anything, even himself.

“Price said there’s gonna be a medic nearby, so we’ll take you there. We’re… nearby, I think.” Alejandro says out of the blue, looking at you two. “No discussion,” he adds, when he sees how fast you open your mouth, as if to argue with him about it.

You roll your eyes. There’s nothing you can do about their attitude for that matter and you know it very well, so you wouldn’t even try to argue with them—and, what’s more, you’d prefer those two bullets out sooner than later. You’re not a two year old to make a fuss about something so serious. “Fine.”

“Perfect.”

You close your eyes. Crimson red flies right before them, haunting, along with the dead guy’s face, when you ride to the temporary base; it's something you're used to, massacre. Seeing a lot of blood, taking a lot of lives, whether you like it or not. Comes with a job, so you sweep away these images, trying to focus on the moment. You're alive, that's what matters—not who’s dead, especially when the people you love are still alive.

You’re grateful that you didn’t leave them tonight. Could’ve been better, of course, but it’s the thing for the past right now. You don't need to worry yourself with that.

You have enough of a headache when you arrive. There’s maybe two minutes of peace, and it’s broken the minute Price walks in with the whole ass Ted Talk that contains “you need to be more careful” for the twenty minutes straight. When they are sewing up the wound, after telling your captain the whole story, you hear how reckless you were, how rookies make these mistakes, but you shouldn’t.

You know it well, so maybe that’s why you don’t look at him when he says that. There’s a sting of shame, but also an irritation because how long can someone give you a scolding, when they see that you’re aware of everything that happened?

But, even if you’re a little bit irritated, and humbled by him, you know it’s because he cares about you. About everyone in that matter, so if it was Soap, he’d give him the same treatment—after all, you’re his family. Found, almost like a daughter. 

Out of the team, Ghost is the one that gets your jokes about being a living target, when the atmosphere is lighter; not only that, he’s the one to suggest that you should practice more, at which you laugh, asking if he’s gonna help you with that. One irrational conversation leads to another, and time is flowing by.

Price and Soap look at both of you like you are insane, Alejandro says something in Spanish under his nose, but it’s clear that he doesn’t find it funny either, what makes you and Ghost just continue joking. Kyle just snickers in the back, making coffee for everyone, and it’s all so domestic, even when Johnny gets defensive and says something about being stupid. For some time, even your wounds are all forgotten.

At least, it doesn’t bother you until you decide to take a few hours of rest before going into route again. The nap seems important, necessary after getting hit, but you can’t fall asleep; you toss and turn, but it doesn’t give you anything, when the stitches irritate you through your clothes. As much as you try, there’s no sense in making yourself go through that when you have a bandage nearby.

You sit on your bed and start wrapping the bandage around your thigh. Carefully, so it won’t make things worse—because you really want to sleep. Your eyelids feel heavy, everything that you do, every little move feels like you have to put some force into it, so it would be best to go to sleep.

It would be.

“How are you feeling? Better?” You hear. When you look up, you can see Soap, leaning against the door frame. Completely unbothered, like the mission didn’t happen, like you didn’t announce an hour ago that you want to sleep and you don’t want anyone to disturb you.

His shirt is slightly unbuttoned and way more disheveled than it was before; and he looks like a Greek God nonetheless. The one that people worship, look up to, not only because he’s smart but because he’s good looking. 

You almost feel jealous of that; he can’t really stay in elegant clothes more than he’s supposed to, yet he still looks good. No matter if his shirt has seen better times, as well as his hair. 

“Alright. Wound irritates me when I’m trying to sleep, so I’m… doing something with it,” you murmur, noticing how he scoffs at that. “What?”

“Do ye have to wear clothes at all?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Not taking him seriously because why would you? It’s him. Soap, cracking jokes, it’s not unusual. “Johnny—”

He takes a few steps forward; you observe him with double curiosity right now. Like a prey observes the predator, knowing that the attack is inevitable to happen. “I’m completely serious, lassie. We’re not going home for at least a couple of hours.”

“And, your point is?” You raise an eyebrow. It’s not hard to see that he hates the way you act on his obvious tries. Maybe for the first time, he can’t really decide if you are clueless, or if you’re just playing with him.

He purses his lips. For a moment, he’s silent—but it feels like an hour. An hour of longing glances, thinking what to do next. What you should and what you shouldn’t, applying to you and him. You both try to get through the other person’s thoughts with fear of being possibly rejected. Hell only knows how much time you spent on feeling like this in the past; some of that, you remember. But you can’t really recall from your memory when you understood that you feel something more to Soap than friendship. There’s fond memories of fear, annoyance at his actions with other girls, but realization is hard to find. 

“Open,” he says.

You take a shaky breath, looking at him. Your cheeks are hot, making you realize how you’re burning inside as well. Taking a walk on hot lava would be the right equivalent to what you’re feeling right now. “What?”

“Open,” he repeats, tapping your thighs. Kneeling right in front of you, a knight in shining armor, even if his doings are far, far away from that. “Or I’ll make you. I don’t really want to repeat myself again and again, ’m not patient enough for that.”

“Listen—”

“I need to see if you did it correctly, don’t I?” He harshly cuts you off. His blue eyes look like real sapphires now, looking right through yours with a question, even if he knows the answer already. Even if he doesn’t need an answer, if you’re honest with yourself. “Please.”

Please do that for you, so you just allow him to do what he wants. Inspect if you did everything that you needed to, even if you know perfectly well it’s not what he wants to do—at least, not the only thing. He just hides himself behind a barricade, thinking that he won’t get caught. 

He’s slow with his movements—you can’t help but think that it’s to mess with your head more. His “checking” contains lifting your dress higher and higher, without even looking at the bandage once. His eyes are glued to your skin, once again this evening; this time, with plenty of care. It’s clear that he wants something and he’s determined to get it.

There’s not a single protest from you.  

How could there be a protest, though? You want that. Maybe you’re not admitting it in front of yourself, but you do want that, badly. 

You wanted that for a long time. Waited for the right signal from him, so you wouldn’t make a complete fool of yourself if something would go wrong.

His fingertips trace the line higher and higher, feeling definitely confident about what he is doing. You call him by his callsign multiple times, but he doesn’t seem fazed by that; he’s maybe even more encouraged, leaving a single kiss on your thigh. Testing the waters, before he’ll dive deeper into it.

And you’re buying everything that he gives you.

Your last cells of restraint are hanging on a thread. Particularly thin one. “Soap, we—”

“—I’m not on duty right now,” he almost growls. A warning sign, something that you see immediately; as well as the sudden mood change, when he looks up at you. Soft eyes, eyes that could convince you to do anything he wants. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. He nuzzles your hand with his nose, and that alone makes you feel bad because of what you have to say right now. “We can’t.”

“We can’t, or ye dinnae want to?” he asks, taunting. Kissing your wrist higher and higher, crossing any boundaries you had. Folding you, piece by piece, in order to get what he wants. “No one will know.”

“Price said—”

“—He can kiss my ass, if I’m bein’ honest. We have hours.”

And that’s all you need. 

He keeps eye contact with you, as he drags your panties down. Royal blue eyes transform to something entirely different, something dirty, maybe predatory, if you’d look deeper. 

It’s something that you didn’t see earlier—and you thought you knew all of Soap’s faces. Turns out, not only it’s unusual to see this particular one, but you’re determined to learn more about your comrade.

Especially from the lover's side, a side that you don’t know very well. It’s the side that is reserved for hookups only, if anything. 

And normally, you’re experiencing the fun friend, the deep talks friend, so the difference is big, when you were never in a position like that. Under him, basically, but you can’t complain. 

When he leaves hickeys on your thigh, you can’t help but think that you always made fun of him with others—about that side. About him being a lover boy, whenever he came back after having a woman around him because it was easier than admitting that you wanted it to be courted by him. Adored, assuming that he’s a tender man.

He offered it to you thousands of times, serious or not. You always took it as a joke, something that you can laugh on with a glass of whiskey in your hand.

But right now, with his face buried between your thighs, you can’t help but think if you’d only take him more serious sooner, you could have it all. If you could have him, this, and maybe many more because no matter how Soap was, he always took care of things.

Even if it was for a quick moment.

You’re gone the moment he touches your clit; not a coherent thought in your mind. Fixation on him is too strong to care about anything else but his words, when he makes you do everything he wants you to do, like an obedient doll. If he wants you to dance, you’d dance—you lose every ounce of willpower when he speaks. Right now, you’re not even bothered by that fact.

The worst is when he wants you to lay still—it’s nearly impossible, as he speeds up the tempo, then suddenly slows the moment he sees you’re not doing what he wanted. Limiting the pleasure or extending it.

“Waited way too fuckin’ long f’ this,” he murmurs into your skin, when you yank his hair, trying to get him back to action. “Just say please, baby. ‘S all it takes.”

And you do. You say please multiple times, knowing perfectly well that you hate to use it, especially in fragile moments like this one—but when he pushes his fingers in, you forget about it instantly. There’s no other sound in the room besides the squelching, the obvious proof of John making out with your pussy, and you think you can go genuinely crazy.

Which is ironic enough because you are crazy about him. Been for a long time, if you’d like to count.

He seems to enjoy every little “please” that he gets from you, when your orgasm is close—he asks “if you want it”, and you have to beg, assure him that’s what you need. Your fingernails scratch his clothed shoulders, thighs squeeze his head, and he menacingly laughs because that was what he wanted all along.

You can’t hear what he says to you; you only see that his lips are moving, when you’re splayed on the bed, eyes on his fingers where your juices are. Body absolutely limp, with mind full but empty at the same time. It’s a funny feeling, keeping you wondering what will happen next.

Before he even unzips his belt or kisses you, there’s a call on his phone. He almost ignores it—almost. You can clearly see how his smug face drops the moment he sees who calls.

“Price?” you ask, even if you don’t need to. He’s the only man that could get him off the things that he was supposed to do, even if the said thing is you.

Whatever the captain says, upsets him visibly. Soap plays nervously with his mohawk—just like you were, a minute earlier—but he’s way more upset. He just mumbles, “yes, sir,” under his breath, the last thing he wants to say, and he hangs up. “Apparently, we have only thirty minutes now. Not hours like I said.”

You prop yourself on your elbow, looking at him for a few seconds before speaking. You’re torn between feeling disappointed and relieved by learning this information. “Right. I’ll… change, you can go.”

“Or: I can stay. It's not like I haven’t seen ye naked,” he says, cocking his head to the side. Boyish, making you think twice before you’ll actually answer him.

“It’s different this time,” you murmur bashfully, turning to him, so he’ll see your back instead of your face. Hot with emotions caused by his attitude; it’s like a never ending story.

“Different,” he repeats. You feel like he’s burning a hole through you, even if you can’t really see if he’s looking or not from that position. Maybe that’s the effect after you just were trembling in his hands. “How so?”

You want to give him an answer to that, but you can’t find a coherent thought that would satisfy him. If you’d tell him about the high of the moment, he’d probably corner you and ask if you’re not feeling all of it right now—and if you’d say that you’re shy right now, it wouldn’t be a good answer for him either.

You could be compared to a blind person, trying to find the right exit when there’s multiple ones; and you’re sure as hell that they would find the right solution first.

“Just different,” you finally decide to say, after you clean yourself up. Surprisingly, he doesn’t react to that. He’s silent, so you continue to quickly change, and then, the two of you are gone from the room.

The rest of the team are already waiting for you at the back of the building. They talk about something, but the moment they spot you and Soap they stop. If you wouldn’t know any better, you’d think that boys discussed something about you.

“You’re certainly better, huh?” Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side. Observing, just like he always does.

“I mean… it is better,” you say slowly, suspiciously looking at your comrade. “Why?”

“No reason. I suppose someone has magic hands,” he murmurs, a knowing smirk on his face. You do not like that, at any chance. “Wanna share some secrets?”

“You wish, Garrick.” You poke him in the chest with a smile; slightly forced because you didn’t expect that from him. “Better get to the car, or we’ll leave your ass.”

You keep quiet here, and thankfully no one pays mind to that, as you’re usually like this on the way home. Silent and in your thoughts about the mission.

This time, on your mind is John MacTavish.