#Gun Hill Trekking

[toxicanonymity]

Hunger.

7k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

raider playlist 🖤sweet pea (smutty)

SUMMARY: Joel takes you on an eventful trek. You have a bit of a meltdown and he comforts you in a way he hadn't before. He kills a guy. And later, Joel finally goes down on you because he craves you and can't physically resist. WARNINGS: I8+ oral f receiving 🎉, unsafe P in V, creampie, jacking off, brief violence (og raider typical?), hurt/comfort, neglected animal (he's ok), angst, dark fluff, emotional tension, POV changes. A/N: 1/3 smut. Can read alone - Joel has been resisting the urge to kiss you. Carter is Joel's right-hand man. Jack was your bf Joel killed. Happy 6 months to the 1st raider Joel fic, have some oral.

—You 🌸🫛—

You're reading in a clover patch at one end of the trailer while Joel chops wood. Two of his men come up the hill, and Joel tells you to stay put while he talks to them. Even when Joel addresses you, they don't look in your direction. They stay in the doorway of the trailer. You put your book face down and start looking at the clovers while you try to eavesdrop.  You can't hear what they're saying, but it sounds like someone might have tampered with one of the vans. You brush your hand through the leaves, and one catches your eye. Without plucking it, you gently separate it from the others to make sure it's not an illusion. There really are four leaves. You smile and get down on your stomach to look at it. You think about leaving it so it can grow more. That's what you did when you found one earlier in the week, but you pluck this one.

The men go back down the hill, and Joel goes inside for a moment before emerging again. You're laying the clover leaves flat between the pages of your book when Joel calls you inside. Then he leans against the trailer with an arm above his head, the side of his wrist resting near the top of the door frame as he waits for you.  He's wearing a body holster now. "C'mon, let's go," he shouts so you can hear him. 

"Ok," you call. 

You just want to finish pressing the clover into the page, but he rushes you: "Now." 

"What for," you ask.

"Cause I said." He disappears inside, and his back looks so broad, framed by the holster straps. 

You come in and pout in the window nook with your book closed, waiting for him to explain. There's a belt on the kitchen table.  Joel emerges from the bedroom and tells you he's going down the hill to help fix the van, and you're coming.  

“you good in that?” he asks, looking at your spaghetti strap dress. You nod. You like the dresses he gave you, and it’s still warm enough, you think.  He confirms, “Sure ya won’t be cold?” and you nod. He seems glad. 

He approaches the kitchen table holding something strappy and leather. He pulls out a chair and faces you in the window nook. 

"C'mere," he says. "Gonna carry your gun today." 

"Oh," you put down the book. Sounds exciting. Sounds like he trusts you. "Yeah, sure," you try to play it cool. He takes your knees and swings your legs toward him. 

"Gonna see if this piece'a shit's worth anything. If not, ya wear mine okay?" He thumbs the shoulder strap of his holster. 

You frown and mutter, "I like when you wear it," eyeing the muscles straining his white shirt.  He suppresses a smile, but you see it in his eyes. 

"Gimme your leg," he commands. You give him your leg on your shooting side. You watch his face. He has a toothpick behind his ear.  He bends your knee and puts your foot on his thigh. He lets the skirt of your dress fall all the way down your raised leg, exposing your panties. His eyes linger there, and he draws in a slow breath as he unbuckles the strap of the holster. He wraps the strap around your thigh and mutters, "good."  He slides the strap into the buckle, then tightens it. "Too tight?" He asks. 

"No."

He fastens the buckle on your inner thigh, and his massive hands map your thigh, checking the fit. You flinch in pleasure as his fingers graze the edge of your panties.

There's a long ribbon dangling from the other end of the holster where another strap should be. He laces it through two hand made grommets on each side. There are two more empty holes on the top of each side. 

"Here," you offer and take both ends of the ribbon from him. You tie it in a bow on the outside of your thigh. 

"That gonna hold?" He asks. 

You shrug. "Feels ok, what do you think?"

He's not listening. His eyes have returned between your legs. You spread them a little more, and innocently widen your eyes. He wets his lips, and his gaze remains for another inhale, then he pries his eyes away, sticks the toothpick in his mouth, and lets your foot down.  You stand up and he hands you your gun, then adjusts himself, quickly cupping his crotch through his pants as you slide the gun into the holster. 

"Walk," he mumbles. 

You walk the length of the kitchen. 

It's a weird sensation, having one of your legs burdened by a weight while the other one is free. But aside from that, it's fine. 

"Alright?" He asks.

"Yeah." 

He nods, "Good. C'mere."  You stand right in front of him, between his knees. "Hold your dress up for me."

You hold it up over the holster. 

"Higher. Belly button." 

He grabs the belt from the table and when he picks it up, ribbons are dangling from its holes. The ribbons have their ends burned and melted like a shoelace for threading.  He fastens the belt securely around your bare middle, then threads the loose ribbons through the empty grommets on the top of the holster and secures them. 

He turns you to the side, tugs at the ribbon, and mutters, "good." Then he can't help but grab a handful of ass, and your bottom lip creeps under your teeth.

As he turns you to face him again, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth and gives you a serious look. "Comin' with me today, sweet pea. Ya do what I say, understand?"

You nod.

"I say get outta here, ya run. I say stay put, ya don't fuckin' move." 

"Got it."

—-

He puts the toothpick behind his ear and picks up a few pieces of jerky off the counter as he stands up. He hands you a piece. 

You take a bite and chew it as you walk down the hill. You watch his jaw flex when he chews.  You tell him, "This one's good."

"Cause Carter made it," Joel notes.  You cringe at yourself,but he doesn't seem offended. "Turkey," he adds. 

Turkey, that's why. Much better than venison. You haven't had poultry in a while, not even grouse. Traps have been empty. 

"I love yours," you tell him. 

Joel gives you an appreciative pat on the back of your head, then his hand trails down your back, over the swell of your ass. He slides his hand under your dress and palms your butt cheek. He lifts it, then lets it drop. 

Joel brings you around the front of the stash house where the vans are normally parked and tells you to wait. There’s only one van. One of the other guys took the second van to get gas and isn’t back yet. 

You reach under your dress and adjust the holster as you sit down on a patch of grass to watch. Joel's muscles glisten and flex as he lifts the hood of the van and props it open. He looks around the inside of the van and dabs his head with a bandana that he tucks back into his pocket . He looks under the van while you pick tall blades of grass and braid them together. 

When he's done, he tells you they need a part. Need to go to the junkyard and see if they can find one. You’re going with him and Carter on foot.

—

The junkyard is a few miles on the other side of Joel’s trailer. You go down that side of the hill and walk through the abandoned mobile home park to get there. It’s the first time you’ve seen most of it close-up, aside from through the scope of Joel’s rifle. The rest of the journey is mostly on a dirt road, and you have to climb through a fence to get into the junkyard. 

It feels like you’re there for a long time. You hear the weak bark of a dog in the distance. Joel thinks it’s coming from the woods. It stops.  There’s a house that looks abandoned, but Joel thinks there might be junkies in it. He says they gather around there. He’s even found one sleeping in a car. When Carter finds a part they think will work, they have trouble taking it off the truck. They don’t have the right tools. Brute force isn’t an option because it could easily break. 

The three of you cautiously approach the house and the barking starts again. The structure is run down, and the windows are busted out. It’s small, can’t be more than a couple of rooms. 

—--

As Carter sweeps the house, you go around back with Joel, and there's the dog. He's skinny and his bark is weak and strained. He's chained to a pipe on the side of the house. The pipe has been pulled a little bit outward so it's leaning, but he wasn't strong enough to free himself. He's a scrappy little mutt with a floppy ear. Probably less than 20 lbs (9 kg). You and Joel both stare at the dog, then Carter calls from inside, “Miller!”

Joel looks around to make sure you’ll be alright for a minute. “Don’t move. Stay alert. Hand on your gun.” 

As Joel goes inside,  Carter says, “Think he’s alive.” 

“Infected?”Joel asks. 

“Nah, see the track marks?”

“Piece’a shit left his dog to die.” 

Outside, the dog watches you. He sits attentively with his head down.  You put on a soothing voice for him. "Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin'?" He lowers his head almost to the ground as he slowly stretches his arms out, then his tail starts to wag hesitantly, staying close to the ground. He begins to whine.  There are a couple of bones behind him with no meat left on them at all. 

Carter comes out to watch you.  There's a metal bowl upside down out of the dog's reach.  "He needs water," you say. Carter looks around then reaches into his backpack and hands you his water. You pour some into the dish for the dog, and his tail begins to wag with more pep. When you reach out to touch the dog, he flinches and backs away, then cautiously returns and gets closer to you than he was. 

Carter gets closer, and when he reaches out for the dog, it growls and barks ferociously. Carter isn't afraid–it's too small to be afraid of. He reaches for the dog's collar and the dog chomps his hand with a vicious growl, high pitched from his throat. He doesn't want to let go.

"DAMN!" Carter yells. "SHIT," he shakes his hand.

"No," you firmly tell the dog. The dog lowers his stomach onto the ground and raises his brows pathetically with a whine. 

"He's just scared," you tell Carter as he rinses the wound with the rest of his water.

"I know, I know," Carter nods. He puts his water back in his backpack. "Feisty little fucker." He spits on the ground. 

“We’ve gotta get him out of this,” you mutter.  

Carter tries to stop you. “Don’t touch–”

You hold your hand out to the dog, and Carter sighs in resignation. The dog reaches his neck out to sniff you, then licks you. He lets you touch him. Then you touch his collar and he growls, but not as bad. The collar has inner spikes that must be hurting him. It's too big and has some slack hanging down from where it's been tightened.

Joel comes outside with a bag of tools clinking heavily against each other. 

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" You give Carter a hopeful glance and he doesn't snitch on the dog for biting him. 

You look at Joel. "He's gonna die if we don't get him free," you explain.  Joel lunges toward the dog and you try to warn him, "WAIT-"  Joel stops short of bending over and instead looks at you. The dog goes after his ankle, bearing his teeth and going nuts.  Joel shakes his leg free. You tell the dog, “No" and he submits on the ground with a whine. Joel looks at the dog and raises his gun. 

"You wouldn't," you whine. "He's protecting me."

“Course i wouldn’t. Damn.”

Joel steps closer and aims at the drain pipe behind the dog, shooting the chain to break it. It hurts your ears but it works. The dog yelps and skips out from the building, chain dragging behind him. Joel takes the bag of tools back to the truck where they found the part, leaving Carter with you while you try to free the dog. 

"C'mere," you sit back on your knees and open your arms for the dog. With the freedom of movement, you can work the collar off him. The dog whimpers and paws at the collar with you. When he lets out a sharper, high pitched whimper, you freeze as it triggers a memory. Your chest feels hollow and long-buried grief stabs at the backs of your eyes. You push it away. You don't want to cry. You want to be tough and whatever else you need to be for Joel to always take you with him. The dog whimpers again and you return to the task. You free him from the collar and he trots away from the house. 

— Joel ⛓️ —

When he gets back, the dog is playfully pawing at your knees.  You scratch behind his ears and he rolls over. One look at your face and Joel knows what you want. 

"Alright, let's go," Joel says and looks at the ground next to you. He steps forward and the dog growls. "It's ok," you tell the dog and you reach for Joel's hand. 

“Maybe he wants to come with us,” you say as casually as you can. 

Joel clenches his jaw and shakes his head. 

"I can take care of him," you plead, your eyes big and watery. "He's not big, he doesn't need much." 

Joel shifts his weight as he looks at you for a moment. "I know ya get bored-"

"Not because I'm bored," you protest. "He's hungry."

"No," Joel tells you firmly and your tears overflow. God damnit, not here. He's hungry because he was chained. He'll be fine now.

Joel doesn't want to share resources, doesn’t want the barking to attract attention, and doesn’t want someone to come after the dog–after you–if there’s anyone left to come. The junkie inside is as good as dead, but they run in packs and they’re dangerous.  

"It's for your own good, sweet pea.” Joel really thinks it is. 

You shake your head no. "I had one," you sniffle. "Before." 

Joel’s nostrils flare at the shake of your head, then his stomach drops. He doesn't want to know about before. He does, but he really doesn't. He covers his mouth with the crook of his thumb as he rubs both sides of his beard. Before. It gets harder and harder to avoid. He shakes it off.  All he can do is keep you safe and take care of you the best he can, which means taking care of only you. He shakes his head no again, then reaches into his backpack. He throws a piece of jerky as far as he can. “He’s fed, Gonna be fine.” He throws another piece. 

You watch the dog run off for the jerky, but you're in a trance, thinking about something else. 

“Let’s go, baby,” Joel steps forward, wraps a hand around the inside of your bicep, and gently pulls.  You try to resist walking, and his grip gets firmer. You stand there watching the dog, feet planted on the ground, muscle tensing under Joel's grip.

Joel faces you and cups your face with both hands, making you look at him. He gets a few inches from your face and lowers his voice.  “Ain’t gonna spank ya in front’a Carter, but ya better move.”  He means it. Non-negotiable.

He grabs your arm again, and as he starts dragging you away, you blurt out, "Her name was Daisy. She saved my life."

Joel ignores it.  “Move. Now. Or I’m pickin’ ya up.”  You relent and stop resisting. Smart. He wouldn't want to regret bringing you with them.

Joel squints into the ground as the two of you walk. Carter walks ahead, not wanting to get in the middle of it.  “Maybe this one could save me, too," you suggest. "if you’re gone.” 

Damnit sweet pea, you sure are smart. Nice try, but that's what Carter is for.

"Dog that size?” Joel laughs. You compose yourself. You walk in silence for a few minutes, but Joel is still thinking about it. “How,” Joel asks, and adjusts his backpack. “How’d she save you? Must’a been bigger, right? meaner?”

Carter looks over his shoulder with a side-eye at the word “meaner,” but doesn’t reveal his injury.  

You don’t answer Joel. You're checked out. You keep eyeing the tree line, but you wouldn’t. . . There's no way you’d run, right? 

You look at him with your eyes red. “You don’t wanna hear it.” 

The vacant look on your face makes Joel stop in his tracks to face you. “Tell me,” he demands. 

You sniffle and look toward the tree line again. “Can I go pee?”

Joel can’t read you right now, which disturbs him. “Yeah,” he mutters and puts his massive hand on your back, guiding you to the edge of the forest. 

He starts to come in behind you, and you ask him, “Do you mind if I go?” 

He swallows and furrows his brow as he looks at you. You must read his concern, because you hand him your bag. He nods. He steps into the woods, but tries to give you some space, without losing track of you. He doesn't wanna have to chase you down, but damnit he'll tackle you if he has to, to save you from yourself. His stomach is uneasy.

There’s a hollow, rusted truck about 30 paces away. You go on the other side of it. Joel knows you’re not just pouting about leaving the dog. There's more to this. But you’re right, he’s not sure if he wants to know. 

Until he hears you sniffling, and it's not just sad, it's scared, painful.

Ah, fuck it. He moves as quietly as he can.

“Sweet pea,” he says softly as he walks around the old hollowed-out car. You’re squatting–not peeing, just hugging your knees, facing the abandoned car. You're shaking and your cheeks are wet. There's not much space, but Joel gets between you and the car.  He takes his backpack off and drops it to the side.

“She wasn’t afraid like me, Daisy,” you choke out and wipe your cheeks with the heel of one palm.  “They,” you croak. You pause and try again. “He had a gun-” you close your eyes. “Pointed at, pointed at me," you take a deep breath and keep your eyes pinched shut. "He was, he was gonna—but she wouldn’t," you choke on a breath. "She wouldn't stop barking.”  

"Shhhhh, it's ok." Joel cuts you off. It's too hard to see you re-living this. He doesn't want you to get to the details. He squats down. His head is full of pressure, and his heart is full of rage. You take shaky, shallow breaths. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder and lets his knees into the ground. “Breathe,” he says. “Breathe, sweet pea.”  You lean forward, letting your weight into his arms, and he holds you for a minute as you regain your breath.  He cradles your head.  "Yeah, you're okay, I got ya."  He buries his mouth in your hair. "I got ya, baby," he whispers. You wipe your eyes on his shoulder and your cheek catches on the holster.  When you lift your head, you apologize and he shakes his head no.  He brushes a fresh tear off your cheek, and arousal stirs in his pants.  

“Who did it,” he asks, unable to mask the darkness in his question. 

“Just a guy,” you tell him. A guy like himself, Joel assumes with disdain. 

“What kinda guy” 

You sigh and he hates making you think about this, but he needs the answer. “Mean. Had a gold tooth.” 

Joel takes a deep breath and nods. 

"FEDRA," you add, and Joel's face goes cold. His mind goes blank. For a moment, he doesn't even breathe as the life is sucked out of him and replaced by ice cold rage. FEDRA. Not a guy like him.

 “How’d ya get away?” Joel asks. 

You look at him for a second, doing a double take at his face.  You shake your head. “You don’t wanna hear it." You bury your head in his neck again. You’re right, he doesn’t want to, but he insists.  

“Tell me.” 

“Jah–” you stop and look at Joel’s face. His jaw clenches. He knows what's coming, but the thought of FEDRA has fortified him with numbness. 

“S’okay, sweet pea.”

“Jack shot’m.” 

Joel takes a deep breath and looks up at the forest canopy, then bows his head and looks at your knees, bracketed by his own. For a moment, Joel is filled with an uncomfortable appreciation for Jack. But that fades into, no, it should have been Joel, he should’ve had you all along, he should’ve been there to save you *and* your dog. 

“He take good care of ya?” Joel asks in self-loathing. 

You shrug. 

“Better than. . .now?” He can take it.

“No,” you shake your head. “He didn’t shoot him dead.” 

Jackass fucking moron cuck. He left that motherfucker breathing? Suddenly Joel is glad he killed Jack. 

Joel nods, “I see.” He keeps nodding slowly, looking to his right at the moss on a far off tree, clenching his jaw.

"And I didn't have a gun," you add. "Cause I killed a guy Jack said not to." Joel scoffs. You could've killed the guy yourself if not for Jack.

You continue,  “and. . . Jack didn’t cook.” Joel chuckles, caught off guard -- he'd forgetten his original question. You keep going, “And he didn’t–I didn’t–I didn’t feel the same,” you wipe your eyes.  This has gone far enough, and Joel knows it's his own fault. His stupid question.  He takes the toothpick from behind his ear.

You look at him with your eyes all watery, and Joel's cock twitches. The next thing he knows, his massive hand is wrapped gently around your jaw. You put your hands on his shoulders, then straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Mmm," he sighs as your warm crotch meets the bulge in his jeans, and he swells harder against you. He holds your face about two inches from his, looking down at your mouth, then your nose, and your eyes again. He puts his toothpick in his mouth and looks past you as he lets go of your jaw. You bury your head in his neck, blinking warm tears into his skin, making him harder. He whispers your name. He relaxes and takes the toothpick out of his mouth just in time for a branch to fall on the car with a loud clang. 

"All good?" Carter yells from the treeline. 

“Shouldn’t stay here long,” Joel mumbles as he puts it back behind his ear. ”Bad area.” He eases you off his lap back onto your feet, as you both stand up. He brushes dead leaves off his pants and your knees. He adjusts himself, puts his backpack over one shoulder, then reaches down and you take his hand.  You walk a few steps together and he looks back at you slightly behind him. He realizes you’re shaking. He drops your hand, goes in his backpack, and pulls out a flannel that he packed even though you said you were fine. He unfolds it, holds it out, and helps you put it on. 

“Thanks,” you whisper and rub your nose. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as you walk.

Joel stews and broods as you leave the forest together. He wants to go back in time and kill everyone who’s ever hurt you, anyone who let you get hurt, and anyone who failed to hurt the people who hurt you. His muscles are all tense, and his veins are throbbing.

When you get to the treeline, Joel asks Carter, "Can ya gimme five?"

"Sure thing, boss.".

“No ones gonna miss that asshole," Joel mutters as he checks his gun then sets his sights on the house. 

Joel can’t go back in time, but by God, he’s got to kill someone. He drops his backpack then hurries back to the abandoned house, rifle in both hands. When he gets there, he puts the rifle around his back and grabs the dog chain off the ground on his way in. 

—---You 🌸🫛-—

You and Carter look at each other. “How’s your hand?” you ask him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “I dunno where the little bugger went,” he looks around for the dog.  

You both ignore the sound of the chain thrashing around until you hear grunting and look toward the house. Punches are landing. Carter puts a hand on his rifle but doesn’t move yet. Joel grunts and yells between punches. A minute later, Joel steps out of the house, walking backwards, with the chain pulled taught, and a bloody man dragging behind him. Joel kicks him up against the wall, hits him in the face with the butt of his rifle, then wraps the chain around the drain pipe where the dog was tied up. Joel hits the man again, then aims the rifle and calmly shoots him. Even if you never see the dog again, you're certain the dog is better off without that man. Joel wipes blood splatter off his brow and scowls at the ground as he walks back to you and Carter.

“Ya good?” Carter asks him. 

Joel nods. He’s sweaty, chest heaving.  You try not to let your eyes linger on the remaining blood. You observe his throbbing veins instead. The whole scene has you clenching your thighs.

You walk mostly in silence. When you stop for water, you realize you're being followed. Joel doesn’t notice, but you see the dog duck behind an old car when you turn around. You keep a straight face.

You hear something in the distance. Dust is kicked up down the road. Carter says, “Finally.”  It’s the van that still works, picking you up. You didn't know it was coming and wish the dog could follow you the rest of the way home, but you don’t say anything. You're glad he's unchained. 

—–

When you get back to the stash house, Joel works on the broken down van. When he’s done for the day, he takes you back to the trailer and washes the grease off. When he comes out of the bathroom, you're sitting in the window nook looking at your book, but thinking about the dog. He comes over, wiping his hands off on a towel. "Wanna go out 'n' shoot?" He seems to want to cheer you up.  

Joel goes first. He looks through the scope at the trailer park. Ever since those guys showed up one night, he's looking for other raiders or troublemakers. Then he lines up a shot at the usual target. Your eyes are on his biceps. When Joel is about to take aim, the rare sound of ducks honking startles you. They should’ve already flown South. Joel gets up on his knees and aims toward the front of the flock. He hits one, shifts ahead of the flock, and hits another. It gives you butterflies. You hear a thud as the second one hits the ground. 

“Nice!” you tell him. He winks at you and puts the gun strap over his shoulder. You smooth your dress under your butt as you stand up, then adjust the thigh holster. Joel groans as he stands up. You peer down toward where the birds fell, and something is moving up the hill. A bird, moving strangely. A dead bird, in a little dog's mouth. 

You gasp. Joel looks at you, then follows your eyes. The bird is as big as the dog.  His mouth is open wide to fit the neck.  He crests the hill and drops the bird. "Good boy!" You praise. He does a happy circle and trots back down the hill. 

You look at Joel and try not to smile. Joel puts his hand on his hip and shifts his weight to one leg. He looks down at the ground and rubs brow with the flat of his index finger, squinting. When the dog returns with the second bird, Joel mutters, "alright, big guy," and squats down to accept the bird from his mouth.  Then you barely hear him mutter, "good boy." The dog does another circle and trots around the other side of the trailer. 

 "How'd he find us, all this way?" You marvel. 

"Must have some hound in’m," Joel shakes his head. “Guess ya made an impression.” 

Joel starts a fire and boils two big pots of water. The dog keeps a respectful distance, lounging in the same clover patch where you were sitting earlier. Joel chops the heads and feet off the birds, and tosses them on the ground. The dog scurries over, wagging his tail. He drags one of the duck heads over to the grass to chew on with his butt in the air and his tail wagging furiously, all the way upright now. 

Joel beckons you back inside to wash up and change. He takes a quick shower while you take off the flannel and wash your hands in the kitchen sink. You take off the belt, untethering the ribbons, but you leave the holster on. You sit back down in the window nook.

—-

When Joel comes out from the bathroom, he sits down, manspreads, and pats the kitchen table in front of him, looking at the skirt of your dress as you get up from your seat. You unholster your gun and set it down, then use your hands to help yourself onto the surface, sitting on your dress so your thighs won't stick.  Joel spreads your knees so he can be between them, and grabs your ass to scoot you closer. 

He lifts the dress to look at the holster, and he puts his toothpick in his mouth. 

"s'prised it worked," he mutters. He eyes your legs and runs his hands all the way up your thighs with a deep breath.  "Looks good on ya, too," he murmurs. He thumbs the ribbon of the holster, then unties it. He unbuckles the real strap, too. Then he lifts your knee, slides the holster out from under you, and sets it aside with the gun. He runs his hand over the indentation in your skin from the buckle. "that hurt?" He asks. 

"No." 

He puts his elbows down on either side of your hips, and his biceps rest against your thighs. He looks back and forth between your breasts and takes the toothpick out of his mouth. Without taking his eyes off you, he throws it into the kitchen sink and it hits the metal with a light plink. 

He furrows his brow and looks at your body, then puts his cheek flat against your breast at the lace neckline of your cotton dress while he palms the opposite tit. He turns his face to nose your nipple, and it hardens through the fabric of your dress. He dampens the cotton with his mouth as he flattens his tongue against it. One hand holds your back, near your shoulder blade for leverage, with his thumb hooked under your arm. 

He kisses wetly at your breast through your dress, then glances up at you. His hands slide up to the straps of your dress. He gently nudges the straps off your shoulder. His fingers skim your nipples as he curls his thick fingers into the lace neckline, then pulls the dress down below your tits.  He presses his wide tongue onto your nipple and closes his eyes as he latches onto it. Then he lets go with a soft pop and sucks below the nipple as he massages the other breast.  You're gushing arousal with your legs wide open.  He inhales through his nose and his stomach growls. 

"Joel," you sigh, resting your hands on his muscular back. You watch his vein 

His only response is "Mmm," into your nipple.  You're throbbing, and the more attention he pays to your tits, the more your cunt aches to be filled. You want to let him explore your body, it's not something he normally does, but it also makes you want his cock so bad. You want him to slide you off the table and sink you onto his massive erection. He's really taking his time.  You take a deep breath and try to relax. Your clit twitches. 

Joel pulls down the dress a little more, exposing an inch or two below your breasts. He switches sides, dragging his mouth to his right, your left.  With your left nipple in his mouth, he looks up at you and makes sleepy eye contact. His pupils are blown wide. 

"Joel, I want it," you plead.

His tongue trails as he moves his mouth an inch to the right of your nipple, then he closes his eyes again. He licks and sucks the outer curve of your breast, massaging the other one with a thumb lightly brushing the nipple, then the heel of his palm flattening it into your breast. His eyes open to watch his massive hand moving languidly on your breast. 

You whine his name again and slot your fingers into his dark, curly hair. He doesn't look up. You finger his curls and the pads of your fingers lightly caress his scalp. He pulls his mouth off your breast and backs his head away enough to look at your body. You let your fingers fall out of his hair and rest back on his shoulders. One of his hands moves to rest on your hip, his fingers curling around your flesh and his thumb brushing the hem of your dress. 

His voice is low and husky. "Ever feel like ya just. . ." He meets your gaze with hungry eyes, then looks at your lips. "gotta have your mouth on somethin’?"

His eyes fall down your body as he sits back and palms himself through his jeans.  You whisper "yeah," with a smile and begin to scoot off the table so you can suck him off. He abruptly leans forward and stops you with both hands firmly on your hips. He doesn't let you move. His brow furrows. He looks back and forth between your breasts and noses a nipple again. He murmurs low and gruff into your supple skin,  "Ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Your chest erupts in goosebumps.  He drags his hands down your dress to the bare skin of your legs, then slides his massive palms back up your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress, leaving his thumbs hooked on top. You brace your hands on the table to lift your butt for him. His hands keep moving up, reaching your hips.  The fabric of your dress bunches above your ass, then he curls his fingers under the waistband of your panties and begins to take them down. You let yourself back down on the table as he slides the underwear down your legs. It dangles between his fingers as he brings his hand to your neck and caresses the side of your throat with his thumb.

You feel the damp cotton against your throat and smell your own arousal as he grips your jaw. He locks eyes with you for less than a second before his gaze drifts downward. He returns his other palm to your breast, fingers slotting under your arm to hold you steady as he pushes you down until your back is flat on the table. He nudges your thighs farther apart.  He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and hums "Mmm." 

He drops the panties on the table. He spreads you open and thumbs your folds, bringing the moisture up to your clit.  He hunches over to bring his face between your legs and his left hand reaches up to fondle a breast.  He drags his nose through your slick and inhales, then moans at your scent. He plants his mouth on the crease of your thigh. He sucks the skin into his mouth, then lets go. He runs two knuckles through your folds, then gently nudges his middle finger  inside. Your walls spasm around the intrusion and he breathes, "god damn." 

He pumps his finger once and adds a second digit. You moan, and he hums a deep "Mmm," in response.  He takes his fingers out and sucks one, then both into his mouth.  "Fuck," he breathes. 

He doesn't waste any more time, spreading you wide open with his thumbs and burying his face in your cunt. He starts at your entrance where your wetness pools and licks up from there, punctuating the first lick with a kiss on the clit that makes your thighs tremble. Then he laps at you more selfishly, like he's thirsty, like he needs to drink you. His tongue starts flat and stiffens as he digs for more and explores each crevasse. He moans into your folds.  You've never felt anything as powerful and precise as his tongue.  It's stronger than his fingers.  It makes you tingle in one swipe, then presses into the tingle for relief.  He holds you gently until you wriggle in pleasure and he holds you down firmer with one forearm across your lower belly.  

He breathes through his nose and moans as he devours you. When he pauses, he draws in a deeper breath through his mouth then exhales vocally against your wet cunt. 

"Feel good?" He asks with a glance to your face, then plants his mouth on your clit. 

He slides one then two fingers into your core again and you gasp then answer "y-yeah," as he sucks your clit while he pumps them. 

He takes his arm off your abdomen to unbutton his pants and take his stiff cock out. He pulls his face away from your pussy. You're throbbing, and your body races to replenish all the moisture he's sucked up. He gathers some on his fingers then also spits into his hand and wraps it around his length. You want it inside you so, so bad. You hear the squelching as his hand moves up and down his shaft. 

He brings his face between your legs again and puts his arm back on top of you to hold you still, angling his elbow so his thumb is planted at your clit. He laps at you again, moaning into your throbbing, swollen lips. He firmly licks between your clit and hole, then thrusts his tongue into your entrance and you whimper. He tilts his head and jabs his sharpened tongue into you again and again, pumping his cock all the while.  He noses your clit as he sucks and laps, then fucks you with his tongue again.  

You writhe under his arm. "Yeah," he whispers before planting his mouth again. He works your clit with his thumb as he thrusts his tongue into you, dragging it against the top wall, and your desperate cunt twitches against him. You let out a long whine, and his thumb gently rubs the top of your clit, over your hood. 

"Joel," you whimper and it turns into a moan. 

His thumb slows down, and he gathers more slick on his fingers. He wipes it on his shaft, then pulls you by the thighs closer to the edge, unsticking your bare ass from the table. You sit up on your elbows and whimper, "want you. . ."  

He's holding his cock, chest heaving. "Want this?"

"Yeah-yes," you whimper. "Please."

He gazes darkly at your cunt and decides, "Ain't done yet."

You whine his name as he puts his face between your legs again. He sucks your clit for a few seconds until you're whimpering, then he plants his mouth a little lower.  He flattens two fingers to rubs your clit while he fucks you with his tongue. You moan his name as your climax seizes you, and you clench around his tongue. He moves his hand from your clit to your mound to hold you steady as you come. He withdraws his tongue from your hole and laps up and down your folds for a few seconds as you continue to twitch. 

Then he stands up, holding his stiff, wet cock.  His face is flushed, and he's shiny from the nose down.  He braces a hand on the table and teases your clit with his swollen tip.  You flinch in pleasure, still reeling from your first orgasm. He notches his tip at your wet little hole, holds onto your thighs,.and shoves himself into you with a groan. He stays in for a moment, sighing “Ohh, fuck,” admiring your body as it rushes to accommodate him. You spasm around him, still twitching with aftershocks.

He backs up then slams into you with a low growl from his chest. It's a lot to take, but god it feels good. He lifts your legs and puts his arms under your knees, wrapping his hands over to hold your thighs as he buries his length in you, grunting and sighing. His balls slap against your ass. His biceps flex, and It isn't long before you begin to moan and writhe, and squeeze his cock. 

"Good girl," he breathes. "Good, sweet pea."

He closes his eyes and fucks you through it. He breathes deep and slow, like he's trying not to come yet.  He slows way down, moans, then bottoms out and begins to pulse. He brings his hands to either side of your body and hovers over you while he thrusts slowly with each warm burst he releases. You milk his cock until his balls are empty, then your contractions fade. 

Joel hovers there, admiring your body. Then he slides out and sits down on the chair between your legs again. His armpits are warm and humid on your thighs.  He puts one hand on each breast and lowers his head to rest his cheek on your lower abdomen, tickling you with his beard. He wipes his mouth on your belly and a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth hits your skin.  He stares off at the front door of the trailer in a trance, gently cupping your breasts. He mumbles, "Taste so good, sweet pea." 

You reach for his hair and he doesn't stop you from fingering his curls. His eyelids droop, and after a few seconds, he closes his eyes.  You lightly massage his scalp again. 

He only allows himself a minute or two before he tenses and clears his throat. He lifts his head and slides his hands under your arms, helping you sit up straight. 

“I'll check the birds,” he says as he tucks his cock away.  He squeezes your thigh and gives you a wink before he stands up to go outside. 

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Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤 It means the world to me when you show him your love! whether this post is new or old. I also love when people throw a comment when they re-read. It's like adding coals to the fire that keeps me warm and writing lol.

You can find more raider!Joel oral on the raider master list under hypotheticals/imagines/HCs.

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[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[thetriumphantpanda]

in his healing hands | joel miller

Summary | You come back from patrol with a broken body - knees and feet aching with age and the physical toll of the world. Joel knows exactly how to help you, putting his hands (and mouth) to good use.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word count | 1.8K

Warnings | Foot massage (not in a fetish way), knee massage, soft!Joel, oral sex (f receiving), Jackson-era, no use of y/n, no explicit reference to age but reader does say the line 'I'm getting too old for this' so make of that what you will (I’m 28 and I say this, so make her whatever age you wish!), nothing else, just porn without much plot tbh.

Authors note | So, I did a 25km charity trek yesterday and when I tell you my body is wrecked? My body is wrecked. My knees are shot, my feet have never known pain like it, my lower back is screaming at me. So, naturally, Joel massaging my aches and pains and then eating my pussy was the natural thing for my brain to come up with. Slight shoutout to @mvtthewmurdvck for the massage oil idea here... I couldn't resist. Enjoy - this was written and edited on my phone in about 3 hours so be kind.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You’re too old for this. You’d been on your feet for what felt like a lifetime, though it hadn’t been more than twelve hours. Still, it was enough for the new boots Tommy had given you to cause blisters on the balls of your feet, and for your knees to feel like they had shattered under your skin. You had to speak to him, you think, as you hand your rifle back to the weapon store. Tommy needed to find a job for you that didn’t require you traipsing through the forest, up and down hills, otherwise your body was seriously going to give up on you. 

One foot in front of the other, it’s slow moving to his house. To your house. That’s still something you’re getting used to, the fact that your belongings, though they are few and far between, are now entangled with his. Your boots sit next to his by the door, your clothes hang alongside his in the wardrobe, you have a bedside table on your side of the bed. It’s strangely domestic, but you wouldn’t be without him, without Joel. He is what keeps your feet moving, no matter how much you want to collapse onto the ground and cry from the pain. 

The sun is setting, the slow pace back down your final hill and into the gun store mean you’re later than usual. When you push the door open, Joel is stood in the kitchen, his back to you, broad and straining against his t-shirt. You think you could watch him from behind forever. Immediately, you feel the stress you’d been holding in your shoulders dissipate from your body. The pain is still there though. 

Joel turns around slowly, smiling at you gently, his hands are clutching two steaming mugs of coffee. You’re still scared to ask what exactly he traded for it, but you’re grateful for it none-the-less when it’s pressed into your hand, and he’s kissing your forehead, pushing a gentle hand on your back, driving you towards the couch. He sits down, his own age showing in the way his knees audibly creak as he sits. 

You follow suit, a sharp gasp of pain leaving your lips as you sink into the couch cushions, legs sticking out straight because you can’t bare to bend them anymore. Joel is sitting up, concern across his face, because you never let on when you’re hurting, so for you to audibly wince when you try and get comfortable, he knows it must be bad. 

“Where are ya hurtin’, baby?” He asks, setting his coffee cup down on the table. 

“Backs of my knees,” You grumble, tipping your head back in pain as you try and shift into a comfortable position, “And my feet.” 

Joel slowly moves off the couch, sinking to his knees in front of you. His deft hands are unlacing your boots, pulling them off your feet, peeling off your socks after them. He has his hand wrapped around one of your ankles, tilting your foot to look at it, “What did I tell ya about breakin’ these in?” He scolds, head tilting to the boots on the floor, “Told ya you’d get blisters.” 

“The only place I ever go is on patrol Joel, I can only wear them in on patrol.” You shoot back, frustration in your voice. 

“Alright baby.” He lets this one go, realising you don’t need chastising, just helping. 

He takes your left foot in his hand and presses him thumb into the arch of your foot and you moan. You actually moan in relief as he works his thumb up to the ball of your foot, avoiding the blister that’s built there, pressing a thumb into the skin next to it. 

“Jesus fuck, Miller,” You groan, starting to press your foot into the pressure of his thumb, “Do the other one.” You ask, gesturing your hand to your other foot. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shifts his hand, repeating the same movements as before, thumbs digging into the arch of your foot, moving upwards slowly, until he presses slightly too hard into the ball of this foot, making you hiss instead of groan. He squeezes your ankle, knowing that he’s probably now causing more pain than anything else. 

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He murmurs from his knees, “Then we can get you nice and comfy in bed.” 

The warm water had gone some way to soothing you, but as you hobble from the bathroom down to your bedroom, the searing ache in your kneecaps is causing small tears to bloom at the edge of your vision. In the bedroom, Joel is already propped up against his pillows, glasses perched on the end of his nose with a book in his lap. It’s still warm, so he’s not put a sleep shirt on, he looks positively delicious and if your whole body wasn’t pain, you’d straddle his hips and show him just how much you needed him. 

He looks up from his book when he hears your heavy footsteps coming towards the bed, “Hot water help?” He asks, chuckling slightly when you flop, unceremoniously, down onto the bed, face-first, groaning in relief at the weight finally being off your body. 

“Will you…” You mumble into the sheets under your mouth, turning your head to him to he can hear you properly, “Will you do the backs of my knees?” You ask, “Just massage them a bit and see if it’ll help?” 

He shuts his book and drags his glasses off his face, setting them both down on his bedside table, pushing the sheets back from his lap, moving himself up on his knees next to you. He reaches over and sinks his fingers under the edge of the towel you’ve got wrapped around you, pulling it out from under you to drop it to the floor, leaving your backside naked to him. 

He runs his hands down your back, wide palms skimming over your warm skin, he stops to squeeze the globes of your ass as his hands continue their path down the backs of your thighs, all the way down to the crook of your knee. He leans over you, body pressed gently to yours as he fishes around in the bedside drawer for a moment, pulling out the small vial of oil he keeps there. 

Tommy had given it to him months ago, during the winter, when Joel’s joints seized up with the cold – you’d been the one massaging his back and his shoulders then – with the rosemary scented oil that someone in town cooked up, meaning the hard-to-find pills stayed in the hospital for emergencies only. 

You listen as he squeezes a tiny amount of oil into his palms, rubbing them together to warm and loosen the oil, before he’s got those palms wrapped around one of your knees, pads of his thumbs gently pressing into the aching muscle there. 

“You tell me if I’m too hard, okay?” He speaks softly behind you, a pattern of dragging one thumb, and then the other, across the plane of skin there, swapping between each knee until you’re a mouldable mess of a human. 

“Feels good,” You breathe out, head pillowed on your arm, “I ever tell you how good you are with your hands?” 

Joel laughs now, “Feelin’ better, huh?” He speaks, oily hands leaving the backs of your knees to trail back up to your ass, giving you another squeeze to see if you’re going to tell him to fuck off or not. 

He leans forward, lips pressing a soft kiss to the bottom of your back, “Think you told me once or twice,” He comments, answering your earlier question about his hands, “But, if I remember correctly, you think I’m better with my mouth.” 

His lips press a kiss to one of the cheeks of your ass, then the other, before he’s gripping the meat of you in his hands, squeezing and spreading you open for him, he notices you tense a little, and that simply won’t do, “Relax, will ya?” He encourages, “Promise I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby.” 

He knows that he can’t shift you up onto your knees, or bend them much as all, but God he has to taste you. He shifts himself a little, from straddling your legs, to shifting them open a little so he can rest between them. You’re still led on your front, head resting on your arms, tilted round gently to look at him as much as you can. 

He settles in between your thighs, body spread out much like yours is, with his mouth just inches from your weeping core, that’s been gradually gathering slick since he started touching you downstairs on the couch. His hands are back gripping the meat of your ass, using them to spread you apart so he can finally see you already dripping for him. 

“Can you lift up a little, baby?” He asks, watching with satisfaction as you move a little so he can finally get his mouth on you. 

He dips his tongue into your aching cunt first, using his tongue to lap up the delicious slick he’s already drawn from you. It’s already obscene, the sounds of his slurping, the way he literally drinks from you, tasting every part of you. Then, from his place behind you, he moves his head so he’s lapping at your clit. Soft, gentle flicks with the tip of his tongue, swirling the mix of his saliva and your slick over the little bundle of nerves in such a way that you’re crying out for him already. 

“Easy baby,” He grins into your cunt, “You that worked up, huh?” He pulls away slightly, “Do I need to make you come? Will that make everythin’ better?” 

You push yourself back onto his mouth and he obliges, because he can never deny you, especially when you’re this delicate and pliable, all from his hands helping to stop you hurting. He’s giving you wider, longer swipes of his tongue across your clit now, alternating when he wants back to those tight circles with the tip of his tongue until you are literally a quivering mess, teetering on the edge, waiting for him to tip you over. 

“Joel,” You whimper, hips chasing at his tongue as it sweeps across your swollen clit, “Make me come, please.” 

He doesn’t even bother to reply, just latches his lips around your clit, sucking for pressure, but still driving his tongue over it, until you finally let go, body shaking and a chorus of his name and pleas for him not to stop echoing through the room. And he doesn’t, not until he’s sure that his tongue has worked every ounce of your orgasm from you. He pulls away from you, wiping the slick from his face onto the back of your thigh before he collapses down on the bed next to you. 

He rolls you gently onto your side, pulling your body into his. His hand pulls at your knee gently, bringing one of your legs across his body to rest on him, hand staying warm and solid on your still painful knee, as his other arm snaked under your neck and around your shoulders to anchor you to him. 

He is still in awe, as you fall asleep against him, with his hands wide against your clammy skin, that these were once the same hands that killed people, tortured some of them even, the same hands that cradled his dying daughter all those years ago, now used to ease someone else’s pain, to make someone else feel better. He uses those hands now, running gentle patterns across your skin as you fall asleep, hoping that when you wake up, it’s made all the difference, even though he knows if you’re still hurting, he would stay here forever, running those hands over your aches and pains to heal you. 

[brokenpieces-72]

Platform

Choo Choo Charles cod crossover | Navigation

You had finished the repairs and started trekking up the hill to your cabin. Tired and trying to keep your emotions straight. It was hard to take it so straight and forward.

When you reached the top you found the captain on the front porch. He was posted up, keeping a look out. You straightened seeing him. Military, no slacking. Someone was taking you seriously for once in a long time. You went over to him, leaning your gun against the wall of the building.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Well haven’t done anything yet.” Price pointed out. His body seemed to relax at the sight of you.

“You have. You believed me.” You said. “That’s something.”

The rain continued to pour, making sleep even more tempting. There was a question that had been repeating in your mind since the middle of your repairs.

“Did he… um… how…” you started but then hesitated. You didn't want to cry in front of him. Price waited letting you get the question out. “Uh… did… the body, where…”

“We moved him off the tracks, and buried him in branches.” Price admitted. You nodded and took some deep breaths, shifting from foot to foot.

“How is your wound?” He asked. You shrugged, and let out a choked “I don’t know” trying to avoid tears. Price could tell she’d been tearing herself apart trying to get help and sort out everything so she could destroy the thing. Your one ally had been lost and replaced with four strangers. Price could understand your plight.

“Sit down,” he said. You looked at him confused. “Sit, that’s an order.”

You sat down, and rolled up your pant leg for him. You winced as he unwrapped it and saw the stitches. Not bad for someone who was doing it free handed. Price retrieved some first aid supplies, taking time to clean it a bit. You winced and groaned a bit.

“Fuck.” You muttered, gritting your teeth.

“It’s just alcohol.” Price said.

“Still fucking hurts.” You pouted.

“Eugene ever serve?” Price asked. You nodded.

“I think so. Back at his cabin he had a couple medals. A purple heart, I think.” You said, while Price started to wrap the wound back up. Didn’t need a splint thankfully. “I should tell you, you’ve allied yourself with a problem.”

Price finished wrapping the wound. “Aligned myself with enemies before.”

“No I mean… I called for help but I didn’t tell you I’m public enemy number three basically. The cult, Warren and Charles are-“ you stopped talking as soon as you heard a train whistle, head snapping immediately to where it came from. Price stood up, getting you to your feet, while you continued to scan the treeline, another one sounding. The two of you got inside quick, and the rest of the guys were woken up, reaching for weapons.

“Get away from the door.” You instructed. “Close it!”

Kyle shut the back one, while Price got you to lean against the wall, and shut the front. You noticed Simon posting up at the window. His aim was on the scuttling locomotive, as it came closer and closer. “Don’t bother.”

Simon side eyed you but kept his aim. You said more quietly, “Seriously please don’t bother.”

Price debated ordering the shot to be taken or not, until Simon made his own decision. The shot was fired and right between the horrific gore framed white eyes of the demonic creature. It missed by an inch, and hit the eye. The creature scuttled around the house, loud with teeth gnashing and a wet chittering. Simon pulled back and avoided the sightline of the window. You limped to the middle of the room, reaching whatever bed was closest before sitting down. The monster’s steps seemed to shake the building, the spider legs almost pounding the hard earth. The men were tense while you bounced your good leg, hands clasped and muttering something. Everyone was still, guns at the ready, while you looked almost unbothered by the horror outside. They could make out wood scratching as well but it was minor. Like a dog pawing at a door. Thankfully the blood curdling noises distanced from the cabin, as Charles finally left them all in peace. The men kept alert.

“Soap, Check the window.” Price ordered. Johnny almost wanted to tell the captain to check himself. He pressed into the wall, watching out the window. Charles disappeared back into the tall misty trees, to where, none of them knew. When to return? If only he wouldn’t.

“It’s gone… Charles doesn’t break into houses for some reason. Part of why I’m still here.” You said, staring at your newly bandaged leg.

“How long has that thing been around here?” Kyle asked.

“Uhh…pffftt… a few months.” You guessed. “Came around the beginning of summer, my dad was one of the miners who found it but when he went to destroy the egg those cultist assholes decided he’d make a good offering.”

The room went silent again, thinking back to Eugene. This kid had lost not only their friend, but your father too. Price wasn’t about to let you fight this alone. You needed help.

“Alright listen up.” Price announced. Each one of them turned to look at him. “If you’ve rested, good, keep watch. If you haven’t get some. Need food, we’ve brought rations. Once we’re ready, we start planning our next move. Let’s get to it.”

You woke up, and reached for your water bottle. Yep, it was morning, and it was chilly. Getting some pain killers in you, you sipped some more water and stretched as much as you could. Two of the men were still in the cabin, Price and Kyle. You slowly got up and put the kettle on, getting a pack of oatmeal. It was like any other morning of shuffling around, half awake. You went to another room, getting changed along with putting on a coat and beanie, shivering a little. The cold helped you wake up. The kettle whistled loudly, waking you the rest of the way. A bowl, and pouring oats and water, dunk in a spoon and she had her breakfast, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Sleep okay?” Kyle asked, politely. You nodded, mouth full of oatmeal. The door to the cabin opened and Johnny walked in with a folded up map.

“Am I allowed to ask your names?” You asked aloud.

“Why wouldnya?” Soap asked.

“You guys are SAS, isn’t that like secret services or something? I mean I’m not gonna fish for government secrets or anything unless Area 51 gets involved, then again you guys are British, well mostly. Sorry I’m rambling.” You said, going back to focusing on the food. “I’m sober I swear.”

“Johnny MacTavish, just call me Soap.” Johnny said. Oh this kid was a mess.

“You’re both John?” You asked looking between him and Price.

“Kyle Garrick. Can call me Gaz.” Kyle piped up. “You know the captain.”

“What about the guy with the mask?” You asked. As if on cue the guy with the mask walked in.

“Ghost.” Soap answered. Ghost looked up hearing his callsign and then looked at you, who jumped hearing him speak. Certainly a fitting name. You swallowed your mouthful, a little forcefully.

Once you finished your breakfast and got changed into cleaner clothes. You returned to the main space, where Price stood next to your conspiracy wall. He went over the plan, giving a briefing for finding the eggs, with you explaining where they were located and how the mob worked. You unfortunately couldn't track exact shifts, nor where all of them went for sleeping and eating, but you assumed it was inside the mines.

"I'll need more scraps if the trains are to pull through a charles attack. I can increase the speed and armour. People around here need some help though, so it might mean getting some errands done in order to get enough. A few of them also have weapons which with enough time can do some extra damage." You explained.

"Four men in that engine will be tight." Ghost commented. You didn't like that number.

"It would be three and two. There are two engines." You corrected. The room was quiet for a moment, and before Price could open his mouth, you spoke up. "I'm going with you. That is not up for debate."

"It'll be dangerous." Kyle reminded you. Thank you sergeant obvious, you thought.

"Your leg is fucked up, Y/N." Price said. "That is a good way to get yourself killed."

"So is letting you all go without some level of a guide. I know this island, and I know the people. They want out of this place as much as I do, but Charles is still out there. Not about to sit back and watch as every fucking thing I've done leads to nothing." You said firmly. You weren't about to be sidelined. The silence was deafening as the four men seemed to think they would have any say in the matter. For good measure you added, "And I have the keys to my engine in the shed."

Price considered it for a moment before realizing you were not gonna let this go. Your stubbornness reminded him of Farah's determination. Right now you were running on fumes, grief and some oatmeal. The look you had in your eyes told him you could be running on good sleep and good food, and your drive would still hold strong.

"Stay off your leg as much as possible, and stay safe. If we lose you we lose our intel." Price said. You nodded. He looked among his men, seeing them determined and ready. "Out here."

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[madamecaos]

Sun and Rain

Where Ghost x Witch fem!Reader are Soulmates

Tag: Angst, lil gore, trigger S. Assault

He should’ve known this wouldn’t be a normal mission. He should’ve had a clue, recognizing that everything was all wrong from the beginning.

The intel, the secrecy of whom he was hunting had been cloaked, even from his superiors. But alas, a good soldier only follows instructions.

If only his precarious situation wasn’t annoying. Ghost had experienced the world through the missions he’d been sent to. Deserts frying him with scorching heat or skies blinding with white blizzards. And yet, the humid mild heat of the jungle was the most uncomfortable.

Mosquitos were the bane of his existence, since even batting them away, they would still somehow bite him through the mask. The sweat sticking to the back of his neck made him itch. And Soap noticed.

“You a little twitchy there, Lt,” said Soap, eyeing him, gun pointed to the front as he trekked through the shade of tall trees. A sea of trunks surrounded them, too many possibilities of an enemy hiding.

“Mosquitos,” he said, nothing more to explain.

“Even through the mask?” Soup asked, genuinely surprised like an inquisitive kid.

“The things are monsters.”

From the back they heard a slap, and all turned around in sharp alarm, pointing. Only, to reveal Captain John Price grumbling about the ‘bloody beasts.”

“Keep walking straight, less than a meter away.” Laswell instructed through the comms.

“Roger.” Price answered.

Ghost’s neck prickled in anticipation. He wondered how dangerous was the enemy, since they have them walking in the unamed jungle, with unspecified instructions, step by step directions. Odd.

But the trust in his captain was enough to put him in this position. He promised the intel was good. To trust him, or whatever that means.

And the instructions had come loud and clear. Kill the rising druglord in said coordinates, somewhere in Columbia. But no name was given, no information, no concrete intel. The information found of their own investigation and scouting lead to believe the new druglord was pairing with the top dog, Ignacio “El Brujo”. The new addition in the Colombia cartels had the government nervous, but they had no clue why.

Soap’s money is on technology. Gaz bet it was terrorism, pushing drugs not being enough to move Special Forces into Colombia. Serbia was more his pace.

The pink and orange sky glared upon them as they reached a peak in a jagged hill, giving away downhill to a beautiful mansion. Capital was spent on the vast of its structure. It was a wonder how NASA hadn’t just only seen them from the sky. It was huge.

Even with the sun shining, droplets peppered from the sky, some of it gray clouds.

“Would you look at that,” Soap muttered, the expanse of the rest of the property, a blanket of green and plantain crops in the middle of the sea of mountains. They were literally nowhere he recognized, the tropical sight taking his breath away, pink and orange glowing.

“There’s a saying about this,” Gaz pointed to the still sunny raining sky. “Here in Columbia I think, that a witch is getting married.”

“What?”

“That when its raining and still sunny, a witch is getting married.”

Laswell interrupted. “Approach with caution, we need the target in our hands. Keep conversation tight, over.”

Price answered on their behalf.

And to think, this wouldn’t even be more weird. The mansion was empty.

Only when they broke the entrance, there realized it wasn’t necessary to break in. The door was open, no guards at the entrance.

Until they got to the living room and and saw a sea of dead bodies… dead parts of dead people. The body guards or… and their families. He even had to blink away from the image and its carnage. Some blood on the curtains.

“What the fuck,” Soap spoke out of turn, Price giving him a reproach look, as they had already shut them up.

But as he stepped to the sight, getting in front of the two muscle giants, he realized he would’ve said the same. A whole dinner room that had seemed like a regular family gathering, only bloody with someone’s arm without its owner.

“Ok then,” Price braces himself, steps through to limbs and corpses, acting as normal as possible. Their steps left bloody footsteps on the carpet, a red river in one direction.

They scouted every room, even found one in the bathroom, head banged to death in the mirror, as if he had gone insane.

If he were asked, he would’ve confirmed he felt nauseous. Not himself. Yet, he said nothing.

Room after empty room received the Special Task Force, no other soul in sight. Until they got to the master bedroom.

He couldn’t help but notice the bloody cuffs at the corner of each four post of the bed. Dread curled in his stomach, sweat going through his uniform.

“You ok there, Lt?” Soap asked at his paused posture, not registering.

“Intel finds there might be a secret basement.” Laswell says as if they could do something with that. It was secret.

“Any clue whatsoever?”

“Do you hear that,” Gaz said from the left, heading for the bathroom, gun raised. He pushed the door open, and in the middle, a middle aged man had a gun pointed upwards, pressed to his chin.

“Sir?” Price said, placating. “Put the gun down. We only just want to talk.

“I did it.” He sobs, index finger shaking at the trigger. “I did it.”

He repeats, eyes hazed, over and over again.

“I think he’s high.” Gaz commented, standing the closest.

“Grab him”, Price instructed, and Gaz did so with a side kick to the gun. Slipping the weapon away from the suspect.

“On the floor!” As Gaz brought the suspect for questioning into the bedroom, Ghost offers to check the perimeter for said basement.

Soap invites himself to the exploration.

It was more obvious than not, the only door heading a uncared for pair of stairs, leading into darkness.

“Lights on.” Ghost instructs Johnny from the front. Ghost with a head light, and Soap pointing with a flash light. Gun in the other hand

But nothing was amiss, except Ghost was cold as ice. As if he couldn’t help but shake, jaw trembling inside his mask. He fought through the shakes as they headed down and down, until they reached a normal basement. Walls recently painted white, except the floor. The modern decor was severed by the seven star pointed pentagram spray painted red smack in the middle of the center.

“Look down.” Ghost says.

“What the fuck, “ Soap repeats.

“Soap.” Price commands.

“Found the basement. Two doors to the left. A pentagram drawn in the middle of the room.” Ghost informs, heading closer to the infinite back. It seemed to go on and on, the space beneath the whole mansion. Empty like a parking lot.

“Roger that, see what else is there.” Price says nothing else.

As they get closer to the back, the see a set of doors, turning left to the kitchen.

His ears started ringing enough to be annoying, but not enough to hinder him. His heart started to pound, set on heading a certain direction.

It was sudden and electric, like a fast acting energy drink. The need to be somewhere else.

And he followed the trail. Back to the wall, driven, not knowing where’s he’s heading.

Soap followed silently, not understanding Ghost shift in direction.

Another left, another stairs to a lower floor.

“Damn,” Soap the commented. “Stairs to hell.”

At a sound from bellow, they raise their guns higher.

They were at a disadvantage, the lower floor being darker and not knowing what’s expecting them, Ghost throws a flash grenade, being answered with multiple screams.

Girl screams, and some might be children.

“Price, we got a situation.”

“Possible civilians down in another floor. Might be hostages.” Ghost adds.

His rapid heartbeat hadn’t decreased.

A curious pair of eyes, greeted them, scrunching at the flashlights.

“Special Task Force, put your hands up.” Soap intervenes, being the people person.

Everyone sitting on the floor did so, except one at the back. A girl, head lolled back on the lap of a woman, worrying a cold towel to her forehead.

The girl was still, clothes bloody, beaten to a pulp. Barefoot, naked west down.

Ghost thought her dead, until she moved. With trouble, she turned her neck, carrying a heavy head, curious at the sudden silent.

Lazily looked side ways, eyes barely open.

Eyes made contact briefly before the others closed with exhaustion.

But it was enough for Simon to see something drove him here, and that something was you.

Electricity zapped him from the spine, bringing him to his knees. And in a second, he lost consciousness with Soap’s worry echoing in his ears.

A/n: Sorry for any mistakes, here’s a balloon 🎈.

[shu-box-puns]

You wanna be one of them (Tsu'tey x Reader) Part 7

Previous Chapter <- Act 7 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Word Count: 11,295

Summary: Tsu'tey is not happy. And then he is.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

That was the last time you’d do anything nice for Jake. You vowed wordlessly, expression thunderous as you were escorted through the unforgiving undergrowth of Pandora by a squad of marines, who had bound your wrists in bright orange cuffs and left your jaw swelling from a point blank punch. In your comfiest pyjamas no less! Which were now soaked through with river water and matted with mud.

Never again would you brave the dawns of Pandora in search of water, when it could easily wait for a few more hours and the assistance of an avatar to hide behind. Never again you would risk your neck whilst Jake remained comfortable in his bunk. Next time, you vowed you would turn over and put your back to him.

But this time you hadn’t. Because you were an idiot. 

You’d been so high on happiness with the victory of your courting advances, that you’d felt particularly charitable that morning. So charitable in fact, that you hadn’t even cursed as Jake when he woke you at the butt crack of dawn to go down to the river. You’d simply slapped on an exomask, pulled a jacket over your pyjamas and grabbed the water jug before practically skipping down the hill. 

The marines had found you whilst you were knelt by the waters edge, filling the jug and humming softly to yourself. There had been the distant roar of a thanator echoing from upstream, which had blinded you to the more pressing threat at your back.

When the first man had grabbed you by the back of your jacket, it had startled you into dropping your freshly collected water, which had immediately been swept away by the current. To your credit, you had fought like hell. Exchanging just as many punches as were landed, even after they’d knocked your gun away. You’d even headbutted one of them, making the glass of your exomask groan warningly as it shuddered within its delicate frame. But of course, there were more of them then there were of you, and you’d been quickly, and embarrassingly easily overpowered by the well-trained soldiers.

Which led to now, a full day having passed with how long you’d been walking. Long enough for the sun to begin dipping behind the moon once more.

Your body ached from the unprompted exercise, especially after so long relying on your avatar. There was a decently sized cut in your forearm from where a marine had wrestled you to the ground and kept you there using their utility knife. Whilst your shoulders aching from the amount of times you’d been yanked or shoved to hurry the fuck up, when all you wanted was a drink and to curl back up in your bunk. You wanted to return to the compound, to maybe remain in it long enough that Tsu’tey would come knocking and you could tempt him into laying down with you. 

Eywa, Tsu’tey was going to club you to death for getting kidnapped. 

Despite the situation, the thought was enough to amuse you. 

You could just picture him now. Grumpily trying to wake your avatar, only to huff and give up when the still body did not stir at his attempts. He would decide to leave it of course, glaring at it from across the camp as he went about his daily chores. Growing more and more inclined to trek up the hill in search of your lazy ass. 

Logically, you knew that your chances of rescue were next to nothing. Not only had you passed out of Omaticayan territory several hours ago, but the tracks you left behind would be too hard to follow, especially after the marines dragged you into the river and walked through the shallows for several miles to conceal both your footprints and scent. 

It was dark enough that the plants were illuminated when you were dragged into a concealed human camp, which consisted of a couple lean-to shelters and a modest fire pit that spluttered and hissed from the lack of proper fuel. The fire barely gave off enough light to upset the steady light of the surrounding plants, whilst the lean-tos themselves were covered in a healthy layer of soil with replanted bushes and vines methodically draped over them to conceal them from the air. It had been done in such a way, that the flora still thrived upon their new home, glowing merrily like the rest of their brethren. It was clever. Allowing this patch of forest to carry on as if it had never been disturbed. Not to mention, it would keep ikran riders from noticing any suspiciously dark patches in the undergrowth.

No wonder there had been no reports of such a camp. The na’vi simply hadn’t been able to find it. 

The sense of unease that crawled up the back of your neck upon entering the camp, came from how quiet the forest was beyond the weak firelight. By now, you had grown used to hearing the natural nightlife of Pandora, so much so that its sudden absence beyond the normal scuffle of human noise was unsettling. The hairs on your arms rose as you realised that there were not enough people - barely two military squads worth of them - around to have disturbed the wildlife into moving on. 

There was something out there. Something dangerous that had encouraged the birds and beasts to seek shelter.

Unexpectedly, your captures dragged you wildly off course from the fire and into the mouth of the largest lean-to. Your knees retaliated with sharp twinges as you were manhandled into a kneeling position, your cuffed hands dropped carelessly into your lap whilst the mouth of a gun pushed itself between your shoulder blades. Threatening and sweet as a promise.

You glared at the clear leader of the little squad, who, through the heavy shadow of his helmet, you could tell was grinning at your misfortune. Not that you could find enough pride in you to care much. You were just tired now, and wet, and bloody, and dirty on top of everything else. There was little more they could do to humiliate you further. Not to mention, there was an especially sharp stone digging into your right knee that you couldn’t seem to shift comfortably off of.

Movement from within the lean-to drew your scowling gaze to a large, scar faced woman. Decked out in camo-gear and sat lounging on a foldable chair with the confidence of a queen on her throne, you were frozen in place by her piercing eyes. From the double golden arrow badge adorning the upper bicep of her uniform, you recognised her to be a corporal. Her name and face escaped you however. Being so absorbed in your research, you hadn’t bothered to learn many military faces around the base. Quaritch had been the exception of course, considering how many times he and Grace had bumped heads over petty little disagreements. It was hard to miss him really, with that oozing confidence and swarm of military personnel that instinctively flocked to complete his every whim. 

The corporal that sat before you now, reeked of arrogance. Watching you down her nose with a sense of detached boredom, barely acknowledging your presence before she barked at the man who had smirked, sharply demanding to be informed why you’d been dumped outside her tent. 

“Ma’am, this is one of Grace’s scientists.”

She rolled her eyes, “are you expecting a raise Private?” She drawled, and you watched with mild satisfaction as the one who had answered visibly withered under her attention. “Your mission was to gather intel on Jake Sully or Norm Spellman. I was expecting blueprints of Hell’s Gate, not some na’vi wannabe you found naked in the forest.”

“But Corporal,” a second man piped up, holding up a tablet for her to look at. “This is Y/n L/n, one of Grace’s lead scientists.” That seemed to capture her attention. With a sinisterly slow turn of her head, and a slow but loud puff of her exomask, the woman lowered her gaze back to you sprawled in the dirt. You stared back, expression mercilessly blank. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose before motioning for the tablet.

It was handed to her immediately. The screen hovered within its metal frame, visible to the corporal and you kneeling at her feet. Although the text was backwards from your vantage point, you could clearly make out your security photo staring down at you. The corporal’s face was unreadable as she skimmed through the profile, scrolling past images of your research and colleagues. She paused on a photo of Jake’s face, reading the caption, whilst your eyes were drawn to a blurry picture of Tsu’tey. 

“An accomplice of Jake Sully then.” The Corporal remarked. “You got an avatar?” You didn’t answer her.

She huffed and went back to scrolling. Lingering on a picture of Grace, then Norm before an image of your avatar rolled onto screen. She visibly paused. 

Without looking away from your avatar, she barked out an order. “James, pull up incident FireFly.”

One of the soldiers at your back broke away to retrieve a second tablet. Within no time, he pulled up a poor quality image of an avatar’s face barely visible through some bioluminescent plants. Greedily, your eyes flickered over the bioluminescence of the plants in the foreground of the photo, the curl of the avatar’s upper lip and the scrunch of its flat nose. Looking as ominous and dangerous as any na’vi hunter.

You immediately knew when the photo had been taken. 

The corporal frowned, holding up her tablet beside the new one. You didn’t need to see the crease between her brows ease, to know they matched. 

“You’re a driver.” She told you, “you attacked our ground force a few weeks ago, by the Tree of Souls.”

“They were trespassing.” You returned sharply. “Your people should be back at Hell’s Gate preparing to return to Earth, not loudly spying on a battle ready clan.” 

“So you don’t deny it.” 

When you didn’t respond, her smile turned predatory. “Answer me Doctor, my patience is not what it used to be.”

You refused.

The corporal tipped her head to the side, her words predatory as she continued to verbally prod. “There is a video, do you want to see?” 

She clicked play, not bothering to wait for your silence this time.

From your position in the dirt, you could just make out the screen. There was a grainy image of yourself this time, in night vision, with the camera zoomed in on an avatar crouching between two bushes. You recognised your atokirina hilted knife clutched tightly in its fist.

The camera kept cutting the avatar out of frame as the soldier filming was distracted by the distressed screaming of their comrades. It did however, briefly manage to capture a five fingered, alien hand erupting from the undergrowth, grabbing onto the back of another soldier’s uniform and dragging the unsuspecting soul backwards into the darkness. They screamed and fought as they were dragged into the foliage. A sound which was promptly cut off a second before the video ended. 

“That was your avatar.” The corporal told you, “and you killed my marines. Good people who were simply following orders. Good people who were on a simple scouting mission-” “They were armed and invading territory that the RDA knows belongs to the Omaticaya.” You cut in sharply, refusing to listen to her repetitive spiel. “Rather poorly might I add, because we heard them from the Well of Souls whilst they were still trampling around in the forest. With stealth like that, they were asking for a fight.” She scoffed, her facial scars pulling horribly as a condescending grin slipped onto her face. “There were no survivors.” She told you, in a tone you assumed was supposed to make you feel guilty. “You killed your own Doctor.” She told you, “you may wear the skin of those monsters, but you’re still human. To my knowledge of drivers, you still life primarily in this body-”

“Do not tell me how I do my job.” You cut in again, completely ignoring the fact you knew she outranked you. That you knew she had at least two squads of marines at her disposal, all of which were armed and ready to kill you with a simple flick of her wrist.

The corporal fell unnaturally quiet. Studying you. Eyes raking over your face, to your dirty pyjamas, to the defiant way you held your body. Her tone was accusatory when she next opened her mouth.

“You’ve been pretending so long, you’ve forgotten what side you’re truly on.” She made it sound like some grand realisation. Something that was supposed to make you pause and think about your actions. “You’ve fooled yourself into thinking you’re one of them.”

You swallowed down your knee jerk corrections. The fact that you knew that in the eyes of the People, you were one of them. You had earned your place. You had passed your iknimaya. You had tamed your mount. You had carved your bow from the wood of HomeTree before it had fallen and had been loyal to the clan. In every way that mattered, you were one of them. Regardless of the skin you currently wore.

“I’ve seen this before you know.” The corporal continued to speak, as if she could talk you round. As if she could pretend to sympathise with you and coax you into some truce. “I’ve seen it in my own men naturally. You spend so long playing nice with the enemy, getting your information, that you forget it’s all a lie. Just like Jake Sully. But don’t worry Doctor, we can cure you. We can help you see sense.” A dangerous undertone had entered her voice now. Something that made your heartbeat kick up and your neck start to sweat. You were suddenly incredibly aware of the gun digging into your back. Of the fact that you would be shot with little more of a nod from the corporal. 

“I’ll give you a fair trial Doctor.” The corporal continued, “at a price of course.”

You swallowed despite yourself. 

“I don’t make deals with pigs.” 

Her smile faltered but she covered it up quickly. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The soldiers at your back shifted, the gun between your shoulder blades eagerly pressing down.

“Ma’am, permission to shoot.”

The Corporal kept you in suspense for several breaths before addressing him. “Not on my floor. Take them into the forest, I don’t care where, just far enough away that that blasted thanator won’t come sniffing round here again.”

The squad’s inaudible confirmations were muffled as you were roughly hauled back to your feet. You could feel yourself going numb as the reality of your situation set in. You were going to die. Alone. Out here. And without being able to send word to the clan about their enemy lurking just beyond their borders.

Blinking back the panic, you allowed the tight grip on your shirt to steady you as you were dragged away from the lean-to entrance. You could feel your resolve hardening. Like hell you’d just lie down and take it. Not after everything you’d been through. Not with everything you’d be leaving behind in the process.

Somewhere in the darkness, there was the familiar hiss of an arrow loosening from a bow. Too quiet for anyone who wasn’t used to it to notice, but you heard it. Even if the marines were oblivious.

The arrow soared straight into the lean-to you were being dragged from and shot the corporal dead on impact. The marines cried out in alarm as the bolt embedded itself squarely between her eyes, shattering her exo mask screen and sinking in deep with a sickening crack of flint splitting bone. Her smug grin remained frozen on her face as her body slumped backwards from the force and tipped her foldable chair back into the dirt.

The soldiers around you immediately leapt into action whilst you were still stuck staring at her corpse. The arrow sitting tall and visible behind the capsized chair seat.

A second whistle of an arrow finally snapped you out of your daze as the roar of a palulukan shook the lean-to. 

Hands wrapped around your wounded bicep, yanking you painfully to and fro as you were dragged behind another lean-to and shoved down on your stomach into the dirt. Your mask collided with the earth, the edge cutting into your swelling jaw as people started screaming. More arrows hit their targets. Guns went off and the fire was snuffed out at the centre of the camp. 

There was a moment of stillness as the marines organised themselves. Bodies ducked against the lean-to around you, guns were reloaded and the palulukan grumbled threateningly from somewhere between the trees. 

“How the hell did it find us?” Someone hissed from the dirt, panting hard as they held themselves unnervingly still. “I don’t fucking know. We’re nowhere near any clan’s territory.” Someone else responded through their teeth. “Must’ve tracked us.” The first one growled. “They’ve got a wicked sense of smell.” “So you’re saying I got my socks wet for nothing.” “That is what you’re worried about right now?”

“Shut up!” The other whisper shouted and the marines fell still. “It’s on the ground.” “What’s it doing?” An audible swallow. “Getting more arrows.”

<”Where are you?!”> The voice that spoke was so overrun with a snarl that you could hardly make out the words it rumbled. There was fury there. Panic hidden beneath thick currents of rage. “What’s it saying?”

“Not a clue.”

 “Perhaps we could use ‘em for bait? Draw it into one place and open fire.”

“Might as well give it a try.” 

Immediately, the pair of marines tucked behind the same lean-to as you turned on you. 

To their credit, they tried. But through a combination of sheer stubbornness on your part, and an enormous four fingered hand punching through the fabric and wooden skeleton of lean-to and dragging one of the soldiers through it, they didn’t get very far. The man screamed the entire time he was hauled through the shelter by his ankle, fingers uselessly raking through the dirt. His companion dove after him, cursing and promising that he had him, that he would be fine.

You threw yourself over the soldier’s back, startling him into letting go of his friend’s hand, before you hooked your bound wrists around his throat and yanked upwards so the cuffs cut into his windpipe. He put up a valiant fight as you choked him, uselessly clawing at your forearms, as you yanked his body backwards into a harsh bend. Gasping horribly, he scratched and spat at you, eyes bulging as you pulled harder. Fury fueling your ruthlessness as you watched his vision unfocus and his wild scrambling reduce to weak pulls at the chain cutting across his neck.

His friend had stopped screaming for him. 

And he fell limp in your hold; unconscious. 

Beyond the lean-to, something snarled. Low and guttural.

Your body instinctively fell still, as your ears strained to hear it. It was quiet and quick. Poking around inside the lean-to before scampering off with light footsteps. You heard more men scream as it found someone else to shoot. The twang of a bowstring splitting the thick silence.

Taking your time, you quietly slid off of the motionless body between your thighs and unstrapped his gun from the holster at his hip. It was light weight, but would be difficult to accurately fire with bound wrists. However, you knew you needed it, there wasn’t a chance you would be able to leave the camp without some sort of protection. Even if the weapon would only be useful in issuing a warning shot to give you a few extra seconds. 

Shuffling towards the edge of the lean-to, you peered around it, towards the centre of the camp. With the fire reduced the embers, you could only barely make out the distorted shapes of several collapsed shelters. And then the shifting, star flecked skin of a palulukan gorging itself on the fallen marines. Even from that distance, you could hear its colossal teeth easily snapping through bone as it feasted. Only briefly pausing to spit out the twisted metal of a gun that had gotten stuck between its teeth. 

Whatever had been grabbing the soldiers or shooting them had slunk back into the shadows and out of sight.

”IT’S IN THE FUCKING TREES!” 

Nevermind. 

The closeness of the yell had you spinning in place, gun held up like a shield as you turned just in time to watch an arrow bury itself in the speaker’s forehead. The body swayed backwards a step before buckling at the knees and hitting the lean-to with a wet slap, causing the delicate structure to buckle and collapse under the sudden weight.

“Shit.” You whispered, eyes wide at the precision of the bullseye. 

More people screamed, and more arrows found their targets, whilst the palulukan purred its approval at the thick stench of blood in the air. It was dark, but the plants on the lean-tos were still glowing, and you could see the shine of dark pools of blood soaking into the dirt. The numbness was flooding back into your system now, as unforgiving and final as the blood beginning to seep into the earth. Returning nutrients to the soil.

Guns fired off. Another round of arrows exploded from the canopy, always coming from different spots as if the archer was working hard to leap from branch to branch. Their precision with the bow was extraordinary. And here you were, standing stupidly in the middle of it all, an easy target. With your heart in your throat as you watched people crumble and bend like reed stems in the wind. 

Something heavy and large landed behind you. You sucked in a breath, feeling the ground shake from the force of the things footsteps. 

<”Yawne?”> That same, growling voice from before. Speaking in na’vi but using a word you did not recognise despite your extensive knowledge and research. 

Gun up, you rounded on the person behind you. Glaring down the barrel of the weapon, all you could register were twin embers glowing in the half darkness. They flickered out for a heartbeat before burning brighter. 

Blinking, you realised. 

They were eyes.

The creature was breathing hard. Backlit by the light from the forest, it straightened from its landing, all long limbs and sharp angles. It moved with the grace of something inhuman. Slow but confident. Its proportions were all wrong. Torso too long, legs unnaturally thin for something clearly so strong. 

And those eyes. Fuck. They made every fight or flight instinct you possessed shrivel up and die. Pinning you in place. Leaving you ridiculously vulnerable as you failed to pull the trigger. The sound would startle it. Perhaps you could use the opening to slip- 

A gun went off at your back. The controlled explosion illuminating the face of whatever was staring at you.

The na’vi flinched. Hurriedly dropping to all fours and effortlessly seeking refuge behind a surviving lean-to as the gun kept firing. You glimpsed bared fangs, pricked ears. The light had been so brief you could hardly make out anything else. 

Why hadn’t it killed you like the others?

Shoving the thought out of your mind, you spotted the gunner hiding behind a nearby tree. Your aim was horrendous with cuffed hands. But it was simple enough to shoot them whilst they were reloading. Once in the thigh, and again through the shoulder when they knelt hard into the dirt at the pain. 

They had barely collapsed before someone grabbed you from behind, knocking you off course so that your killing shot bounced harmlessly off of the tree trunk they’d collapsed against. With great difficulty from your struggling, your assailant knocked your gun from your grasp. Teeth gritted, you ripped your head backwards, wincing as your skull came into contact with the hardened acrylic of their exopack. There was a cut off curse, the sound of cracking acrylic. You shifted your weight, driving your shoulder out and up into their sternum, listening as the air was punched from their lungs. They staggered, fingers failing to keep a proper grip on you. 

Tearing yourself away, you tried to run only for another marine to tackle you around the middle. You shrieked in irritation as you hit the ground chest first, instantly winded on impact. 

The na’vi returned your wounded sound from deep in the undergrowth. A truly horrifying noise that wailed in the otherwise eerily still clearing. It was circling, you realised, collecting its arrows and biding its time. Allowing the marines to pick each other off one by one in their panic.

The soldier on your back, sat himself down hard against the back of your thighs, one hand shoving down hard on the back of your head to keep your mask pressed into the dirt. 

“More trouble than you’re bloody worth.” He muttered to himself, weight shifting as he yanked something from his pocket. 

You were expecting the prick of a needle, or perhaps a bullet through the back of your skull, but certainly not the soft pop and light hiss of the tubing to your mask being cut by a knife. The effect was immediate. You choked on your inhale, the air too thin. Unsatisfying. Before your lungs had fully expanded, you were fighting to suck down another breath. And another. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t breathe. IT WASN’T ENOUGH!

Vaguely, you thought about how cruel of an execution this method was. That the man on your back was watching you suffocate. Ensuring you couldn’t get away to steal someone else’s mask. 

All too soon, the na’vi was back.

From where you were choking in the dirt, you could see the soft glow of its markings as it loomed between the trees. The glowing galaxies adorning its body contorted and shifted as it rose from its hunches. Taller and taller. Seeming to stretch towards the heavens. 

Ethereal, you realised. 

There was the controlled twang of a bow string, quickly followed by a wet thud. The weight on your back pitched sideways and off of you as the dead marine’s corpse toppled, but you couldn’t do anything but struggle to suck in another desperate breath.

All you could hear was the distant warning of the RDA medical instructors, about how you’d be unconscious in twenty seconds and dead in four minutes. How long had it been? You couldn’t tell. 

<”Yawne?”>

The voice came from above you. Your eyes were unfocusing as your lungs began to give up. There were enormous hands cupping the sides of your face, turning your head upwards. Vision blurry, you were able to make out the familiar dusting of glowing freckles along the na’vi’s nose, markings you had wanted to trace for longer than you would dare to acknowledge.

There was a wild glint in Tsu’tey’s glowing eyes, which reminded you of a cat’s when you shone a torch at them. They were not the usual warmth of the man you loved, but instead sent a pang of unease down your spine. There was a dangerous curl to his snarling lips as your eyes traced the blood splattered across his cheek, dripping down to his jaw and dirtying his chest. 

<”YAWNE!”> His hands cupped your cheeks, shaking you with agonising urgency. Words were beyond your grasp at this point. The darkness no longer simply from the lack of light. 

His face twisted into a terrifying snarl as his head snapped up, braids swinging as he glanced to and fro. His enormous body disappeared from your sight. The safety briefly provided by his towering frame leaving with him. 

You wanted to call him back, but your throat was too tight. Your limbs too heavy.  

He was back before you could really miss him. An exo pack in hand and a determined scowl permanently printed on his expression. Absently, your eyes traced the bullet scraps across his biceps, the trickle of blood leaking out from under his cummerbund. 

With a clatter, his arrows were in the dirt, his bow cast to the side with them.

“I’ve got you.” He growled, more furious than reassuring, before leaning you up towards his chest so he could clumsily get at the clasps that kept your current exomask secured to your head. In no time the straps loosened, and humid night air swept across your damp forehead, not that you had time to enjoy it because he immediately slammed the new mask over your face. You jerked at the force of the mask colliding with your face. The action startling a gasp out of you. Which rapidly shifted your focus to greedily sucking down sweet, breathable air. Relief flooded your system as your lungs stopped spasming and your vision cleared. Eywa, that had been too close. 

Whilst you evened out your breathing, Tsu’tey busied himself with the straps, pulling them tight around your head so they sat neatly above your ears. Only then did he seem to slump. 

Urgently, large hands slid under your sweat slick back, fingers bunching into the damp fabric of your night shirt, before you were hauled into his lap. You went willingly, powerless to so much as wiggle as he effortlessly pulled you against him. In turn you buried your face into the skin beneath his necklace as he curled around you, feeling the adrenaline begin to slip away at the contact. You huffed at the inconvenience of the cuffs, wanting more than anything to wind your fingers into his braids. Instead, you settled for melting into his touch, in relishing the feeling of his fingers digging into your back, holding you closer, his chin burying into the crown of your head.

His chest rose and fell harshly beneath your body. Words barely audible falling from his lips like secret prayers. 

You could feel his shaky breath against your scalp. The tremble in his fingers even as he held you so tightly. 

You pressed into him. Losing yourself in the comforting weight of him against your back and curled all around. 

Something shifted beyond the hug. Like a second enormous body taking tentative steps towards the pair. You stiffened as a wet nose dragged along the back of your neck, an unnecessarily deep sniff making your skin crawl. 

Tsu’tey let fly a sharp hiss at whatever was smelling you. One of his hands peeling away to shove at the muzzle of a THANATOR? You gaped at his actions. Watching as the large predator snorted at the sensation, blood dripped from its mouth. It tried to go in for another sniff test, but again Tsu’tey pushed it away with a sharp prod to its snout. The thanator sneezed, an honest to Eywa scowl narrowing its eyes, or one eye, since the other appeared to be blind, before it turned and trotted away. 

<”Okay, what the fuck?”> You croaked, voice cracking and warping as you stared wide eyed at the gigantic predator until you were sure it wouldn’t turn back and choose you as its next snack. <”How the hell did you befriend a palulukan?”> <”It is an irritant.”> Tsu’tey hissed, a hint of a growl still laced between his words. 

Instead of elaborating further, he returned his sharp gaze back to you. His nose twitched, pupils contracting as he frowned at the cut along your bicep. Then he tutted as he ran a finger over the cuffs. 

Wordlessly, he pulled his knife from its sheath and cut them off with a single strike. 

He busied himself with checking the rest of you. Scowling harder when he noticed fresh bruises or small cuts, and outright growling when he noticed the swelling of your jaw. Ears pinned down, he grumbled inaudibly to himself about the state of you, uselessly brushing the dirt off your pyjamas with little success.

You said his name softly, trying to pull him out of his anxious state. His ear flicked but he did not acknowledge you. You tried again, reassuring him that you were fine, but he snapped at you this time. Full on teeth cracking together as his tail slapped the earth in displeasure. 

Falling still, you let him finish his check. Watching as his throat bobbed heavily, knowing that some untold emotion was getting the best of him. 

You’d seen him mad before. Had watched him scream and yell, destroying everything in his path. But you had never seen him quiet angry. Usually, his rage was explosive. His fear was a double edged sword. His grief vocal. 

Tsu’tey did not do quiet well. Not when it mattered. 

The hunter was silent now as he finished his checks, eyes still glaring at that gash on your bicep before he pulled something from his weapons belt. Shaking it out in one hand, you immediately recognised your jacket which the soldiers had removed whilst strip checking you for concealed weapons. With considerable gentleness, Tsu'tey used it to wrap you up tight and comfortable like some kind of human burrito. It was surprisingly effective.

<”Never do that to me again.”> He finally growled, <”stupid, stupid little demon!”> There was no real bite to his tone beyond an underlying tiredness as he tucked the sleeves of the jacket into the hem under your chin.

Despite yourself, you snorted. <”Wow, you sure know how to make me blush.”> You replied dryly, <”it’s not like I went looking for kidnappers.”>

<”Stupid.”> He repeated more firmly. <”Wandering the forest like this. No hunting party. No knife.”> <”I had a gun.”> <”Had.”> He repeated, tone thick with displeasure. 

Rolling your eyes, you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, despite the comforting pressure of the jacket. If he was going to be a dick, you would prefer he grumbled more productively by walking back home whilst he did so. Stubbornly, Tsu’tey tightened his grasp on you. A hint of fang peeking out from between his lips. 

<”Now, I know you’re not about to hiss at me.”> You chastised, furiously wiggling in a failed attempt to point an accusatory finger at him. You're not entirely sure he noticed considering your arms were so tightly bound to your side from the jacket. <”And if you are, put me down and sulk where I can’t see you.”>

He took a moment to think about it. <”I fear you’ll get into trouble again if I do.”>

<”Asshole.”>

<”Idiot.”>

<”I think I preferred the other thing you called me. What was it?”>

He ignored you.

<”Tsu’tey?”> More radio silence as he plucked up his bow and discarded arrows. You squeaked as he righted himself, one enormous arm tucked under your ass. His arm cradled your back, ensuring you were leaning heavily into his chest. 

<”Put me down.”> You demanded, although it sounded weak even to your own ears. And must have looked and sounded amusing with how your cheek was pressed into his pec. <”I will not.”> He told you simply. <”I would like to hold you longer.”>

You huffed. <”What happened to you shyly asking to pick me up, huh? Where’s that bashful Tsu’tey gone?”>

He stiffened, glancing to the ground as his ears fell. <”Do you want to go down?”> He asked in all seriousness. You could tell he didn’t want to, but he would if you asked.

Just to fuck with him a little, you took a moment to think about it. His eyes never left your face as you fell deep into thought, swiftly sweeping from your eyes to your frowning mouth. You even saw the ghost of a glance to your ears before he remembered they didn’t move when you were like this and would therefore tell him nothing.

<”I’m just joking. You’re comfy.”> You eventually admitted, melting into him. He let out a slow breath. <”Good. We will be able to move faster without you falling over every root.”> <”HEY!”>

>_<

The palulukan shadowed Tsu’tey’s retreat back towards Omaticaya territory. 

He could sense it following, curious but not predatory. Like a cub would follow its mother on her morning routine. He paid it no mind, knowing that the beast had seen his skill with his bow. He also hoped that after its feast, it would not be foolish enough to challenge him. He knew he was far too keyed up to be fair if they came to blows.

Luckily, the palulukan remained a respectful distance back, merely watching as Tsu’tey followed his trail home. He was mindful to keep quiet, despite eclipse coming to an end. He knew that other, more dangerous predators, would still be wandering around before returning to their dens at first light. Therefore, he only dared to pause when checking the movement of the stars through gaps in the canopy, before he altered his course and continued on.

Against his chest, he could feel his mate beginning to slip into a fitful slumber. The gentle sway of his strides and the continued pressure of his arm secure around their back seemed to ease them out of their earlier adrenaline filled fight mode. In contrast, they fell limp against him, trusting him to keep them safe as he carried them home.

It soothed the raw thing in him to see them lying contently across his chest, one of their arms slung over his shoulder whilst they cuddled into his neck. The wild thing deep in his chest, which had set his instincts alight when they had been taken, was finally beginning to calm now that he had their weight pressed against him. 

He had gotten there on time. He reassured himself, giving his mate a light squeeze to which they let out a sleepy sigh. He could feel his scowl melting away. The Sky People had not been successful this time, and he had gotten them back. His mate was safe. 

He repeated those words over and over again to himself as the dawn broke and the sun began to warm the forest. The glow of his freckles dimmed as the day grew, chasing away the horrors of the previous night, but also illuminating the evidence of his deeds. He was absolutely covered in blood. A lot of which was not his own. It was mostly dry now, but was rubbing off onto his mate and staining their skin and clothes.

Tsu’tey scowled to himself, tail thrashing as he glanced at the sun's position. A brief rest would not set them back too much, he could afford to find the river again and clean them up.

And so he did. Despite this part of the forest being outside of his clan’s territory, Tsu’tey had made an effort to familiarise himself with as much of Pandora’s forest as he could in his free time. Whilst usually he did so upon his ikran, he was good enough of a navigator to pick up the sounds and smells of running water and ended up on the bank of a river.

His gaze immediately fell on some large, sun warmed stones half submerged, and after setting his bow down on the bank, he stepped into the current and approached them. The water was deeper here than in his own territory. Easily sliding up his body towards his thighs, but the current wasn’t strong enough to stimulate his usual unease. This was fine. He reassured himself. He was just here to clean up his mate so he could take them home. There was nothing in the water. Just him and the reeds.

The fact that the water was clear helped to ease his discomfort as he easily held his mate above the river. They were beginning to stir now, letting out confused little sounds as Tsu’tey waded in deeper, his tail quivering in the freshwater, pretending to be calm.

<”Yawne? You need to wake up.”> Tsu’tey called, peeling his little mate away from his chest, to which they grumbled.

“No. Fuck off.” 

Tsu’tey felt himself smiling warmly at the casual use of English, when usually they refused to address him in nothing but Na’vi. A rule they’d instigated to try and better their grasp on the language and its sentence structures during day to day use. To see it all go out the window simply because they were tired was incredibly endearing. 

<”None of that.”> 

“Fight me.”

He did not. Instead, he settled them down on a rock that jutted out of the water and began forcibly removing their jacket. They wiggled in his gentle grasp, futilely grabbing at their jacket whilst Tsu’tey fought to remove it from them. Although the thing had done well to keep them warm during eclipse, it was dirty with all kinds of things that Tsu’tey didn’t want to know the origin of. Naturally, being much bigger than them, he managed to unwrap them from the jacket, which he promptly dropped into the river to allow the water to start working on.

“Now that’s just rude.” They grumbled as Tsu’tey kept them steady. They were still groggy, grabbing onto his forearm whilst his hand curled around their shoulder. Their fingers fiddled with his arm guard, clarity only just beginning to trickle back in.

<”Good morning Yawne.”> Tsu’tey mused, leaning down to press his forehead into their hair before, slowly lowering himself to his knees before their rock so as not to let any waves he created get them wet. 

Their eyes tracked his movements, all quiet appreciation. “Mornin’.” They let out an obnoxious yawn to which Tsu’tey rolled his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?” <”We’re almost home.”> Tsu’tey replied, not quite dodging the question, but implying enough for them to work it out on their own.

They frowned, opening their mouth to no doubt annoy him for continuing the journey and letting them sleep, only for them to gasp instead as Tsu’tey grabbed one of their arms and dripped freezing cold water onto it. They jerked, trying to pull their arm away from the shock, but Tsu’tey soothed them by rubbing away some of the dried blood. Realising what he was doing, they let him.

“A warning would have been nice!”

“It is cold.” He said, and did it again with a wicked grin on his face. 

They scowled at him but didn’t retort, allowing him to focus on cleaning them up. 

Tsu’tey found himself getting lost in it. His hindbrain purred at the sight of all the blood and dirt washing away, leaving behind mostly unblemished skin. There were a few bruises starting to collect beneath the skin at places, but they were largely uninjured. Tsu’tey took that as a good sign and moved on to the other arm. Here, he found the scabbed over wound of a blade upon their bicep. Although it wasn’t deep, he ensured to clean it thoroughly. He knew little about treating wounds compared to Neytiri who had learned directly from Mo’at, but he wasn’t so clueless as to leave the wound dirty.

”You can wrap it with those plant leaves over there.” His mate instructed him, pointing to a plant growing in the shallows by the far bank. “The lime green one with the purple flowers. It’s hella absorbent.”

Tsu’tey found himself nodding along. <”When did you become an expert in healing?”> “When I stopped you bleeding out in the bloody forest.”

<”But we were not near a river then.”> Tsu’tey mused, stepping away to cut a couple of the leaves free. Offering a quiet prayer of thanks to the plant, he returned to his mate and sank back into his kneel. The leavers were rubbery on the top, with a cotton like texture along the underside, but would do nicely. “Eywa sent an Atokirinia to guide me to a similar plant.” His mate said nonchalantly, which immediately still Tsu’tey’s hands.

<”Eywa sent me a sign?”>

“I mean technically, the atokirina was for you.” They told him, “you came stumbling out of the undergrowth following it. Nearly scared the shit out of me. For whatever reason, Eywa wanted you to find me.” 

<”And then you healed me.”> “Don’t sound so surprised.” They scoffed. “As if I would leave your sorry ass to bleed out. It’d be way too quiet without you.” Tsu’tey felt a swell of affection threaten to choke him as ducked his head. Instead of responding, he busied himself with rolling up the sleeve of his mate’s sleep shirt and carefully wrapping the plants around the freshly cleaned wound. They suctioned on easily.

From there, he allowed the conversation to drop as he went back to his previous task of washing them. 

Once or twice, his mate tried to protest as he took off their shoes and set about cleaning their feet, to which Tsu’tey growled warningly. <”Let me take care of you.”> 

Something in his voice managed to get through to them and they begrudgingly relented. Pouting cutely as Tsu’tey continued with his ministrations. He liked that they trusted him to do a good job. That for once, they could allow themself to slow down and enjoy his attention without needing to jump to the next task like they tended to when stressed. It was nice.

By the time he was rolling up their pyjama leg and getting at the dirt that got caught beneath, Tsu’tey had pretty much removed everything he could without leaving them damp and unbearably cold during the rest of the walk back. 

Satisfied, he moved back up their body to their face. He was reluctant to remove the exomask so soon after the disastrous incident earlier, so he settled for wetting his hands and getting at the skin that wasn’t covered by plastic and glass. His touch was feather light; gentle on tender areas. His thumb idly traced the blossoming bruise just beneath their exo mask where the plastic met skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt.”

He grumbled instead of offering a proper response as he traced the mark. It didn’t take a Tsahik to figure out how it had gotten there. And judging by his own split knuckles, several of the corpses back at the demon camp would have similar, if not larger, markings if they had survived. 

That was all he could do for now, he knew, but once they were back in Omaticaya territory, he would find them some new clothes and offer them a proper bath in the heated pools the clan preferred to occupy instead of the rivers.

Nodding to himself, Tsu’tey finally backed off so that his shadow slid off of them and instead warm sunlight began to warm them up.

“Where are you going?” They immediately demanded, sounding somewhat panicked. 

Tsu’tey smiled encouragingly before cupping river water into his palms and bringing it to his face so he could remove the blood obscuring his markings. 

“Let me.” His mate offered. Tsu’tey’s ears pricked at the soft command in their tone, and he opened his eyes to find them offering their hands to him.

He declined their offer. <”You need to rest.”> “Tsu’tey.” They reflexively grumble, to which the hunter merely stepped back further. The water rose a little higher on him, but with his attention on his mate, he couldn’t find his usual unease. Instead, he made a show of allowing his hands to slide more slowly along his abdomen. More tantalising. Caressing rather than doing anything productive. The effect was instant as his mate’s fell into quiet appreciation, if only for a moment.

<”Rest Yawne. I will be done shortly.”>

They snapped out of it at the sound of his voice. “I swear to god, you infuriating man, let me help.” <”No.”>

They scowled, in that familiar challenging way of theirs. It sent a thrill down Tsu’tey’s spine. A thrill which was rapidly doused by the sight of his mate sliding their feet into the water, and promptly hopping off the rock. Judging by the abrupt widening of their eyes as their feet failed to touch the pebbled floor, they hadn’t taken into account the size difference and quite rapidly were submerged. Tsu’tey’s playful grin was swept away on the current as he practically dove after them. His heart hammered, eyes wide and panicked as he scrambled to find them beneath the water. 

He could see the shape of them beneath the water, kicking against the current, rising gradually, but not fast enough for Tsu’tey’s liking. They were so small. Their lungs were not as large as his - in that moment, he had completely forgotten about the breathing mask strapped to their face. Surely they would drown!

Fear kept him from dunking his head under, not that he dwelled on it for long, because his fingers brushed against them and then wrapped tightly around their shoulders. He dragged them up, pulling them clear of the water and all the way up to his chest. They were soaked through now, Tsu’tey mildly grumbled to himself, erasing all of his careful attempts to keep the majority of them dry, not that he cared much. 

<”That was deeper than I anticipated.”> They mused dryly, <”but at least I’m properly awake now.”> He could tell. They were back to speaking na’vi again.

<”Don’t you ever do that again!”> He growled. 

<”Chill. It was actually really pretty under there. There’s tonnes of plants and smaller creatures near the bottom-”> They were cut off by Tsu’tey’s flinch. Now that they had put that image in his mind, he couldn’t help but imagine something bigger, more deadly, lurking beneath the surface. Ignoring his mate’s confused questions, Tsu’tey decided that he’d prefer to clean up at home, where the water was warm and clear of anything bigger than a fish.

<”Tsu’tey? What’s wrong? Did something bite you?”> 

His ears flattened at the thought and he shuddered. The water was getting shallower with every step, his bow was in sight and he was pleased to realise he hadn’t wasted too much time judging by the position of the sun. But then he remembered the jacket he’d tossed into the current and loudly groaned to himself. 

<”Tsu’tey!”> They were being more demanding now. Reaching up to cup his face between their hands and force him to meet their gaze. <”What’s wrong?”> They pressed.

<”Nothing.”> Tsu’tey returned firmly, even though he felt anything but fine. He didn’t want to go back in. He just wanted to bask in the sunlight, dry off a bit and get home. But he knew that if he didn’t get the jacket, then they would try to instead, and somehow that just made him feel more panicked. It was best to leave them on the bank where they’d be safer. <”Look after my bow.”> He instructed, sitting them down beside his weapon before forcibly unhooking their arms from around his neck.

To their credit, they resisted, but Tsu’tey was stronger. 

He could feel them glaring at his back as he forced himself to walk back into the river. Without them in his arms to distract him, he was more aware of the texture of the rocky bottom against the soles of his feet. Of the plants growing out of the river bed and the potentially hundred of little things they were concealing. 

Gritting his teeth, Tsu’tey ignored the anxious flick of his tail and rounded the rocks to find the jacket stuffed between them. It was reasonably clean now, thanks to the current beating out most of the dirt, but would be useless with how wet it was. Hopefully, it would dry off before too long on the walk back. 

<”What has gotten into you? You were angry earlier, but now you’re just scaring me. Is there something in the water?”> Eywa he hoped not. He’d just been kneeling in it after all. <”Tsu’tey? Talk to me.”> <”I do not enjoy the water.”> He said simply as he turned and began wading back to sure. His mate watched him for a moment, eyebrows drawing close together. Tsu’tey felt shame curdle his stomach. His tail tucked between his legs as he stepped up onto the bank, dripping water everywhere with the jacket hanging limply from his hands. He found it hard to meet his mate’s gaze again.

<”You’re afraid of water?”>

<”I am of the forest, not the sea.”> Tsu’tey defended, feeling himself heat up at such blatant vulnerable honesty. <”I do not share a connection to water like one such as a Metkayina might. This is a natural concern!”>

He watched his mate’s eyebrows jump at his sudden outburst.

<”I see.”> They replied thoughtfully. <”Well, thank you for cleaning me up regardless.”> He nodded in acknowledgement. <”Now allow me to return the favour.”>

<”I believe I have spent more time in the rivers than I would like today.”>

<”We need to clean your wounds.”> <”I will be fine until we return.”> <”I’m not asking you.”> They grit out before taking his hand and pulling on it, encouraging him back to the water’s edge. He humoured them, knowing how stubborn they were, and only briefly paused to lay the jacket out on the grass so it could begin to dry.

They nodded in appreciation and once again, Tsu’tey found himself standing beside the stupid river.

<”Sit.”> They instructed, when they reached the bank, close enough to the current to touch, but far enough away that they were not in the water.

Sceptically, Tsu’tey did as instructed and dropped into a crouch. That earned him a pleased hum and a comforting squeeze to his shoulder before his mate stepped closer to the river. Before he could stop himself, Tsu’tey’s hand snapped out and grabbed onto the collar of their nightshirt. They paused before twisting awkwardly to shoot him an unimpressed look. Reluctantly, he unwound his fingers and retracted his hand, feeling properly chastised. 

There was the sound of fabric tearing, making his ears twitch, before they were before him again. Eye level with him thanks to his crouch. Their touch was gentle against his cheek as they dragged the wet fabric of their torn shirt down his cheek, wiping away anything he had missed. Despite his best attempts, Tsu’tey felt his tail wagging embarrassingly at the attention, an action that his mate politely ignored as they moved onto his chest, tutting absently at the shallow cut concealed below his cummerbund.

<”Doesn’t need the plant.”> They mumbled absently, before winding around him and focusing on his back. 

With a steady grip, they moved his kuru to the side and started wiping him down. Despite himself, Tsu’tey shuddered at such a careful touch on one of his most sensitive areas. It wasn’t anything erotic or suggestive, just a loving gesture to keep the precious limb out of the way whilst they worked.

<”Am I hurting you?”>

<”No.”> He said breathlessly, revelling in the sensation of little fingers wrapped around his braid, steady and confident in their touch. <”Keep going.”> <”Demanding.”> His mate mused, their touch around his kuru loosening before sliding down it. Fingers periodically tightening as they travelled down, down, down…

<”Tease.”> Tsu’tey growled wetly, swallowing down the saliva that had collected in his mouth as his mate retracted their touch. 

They smirked at him, stepping out from behind him to return to the river and refresh the cloth. They took longer than before. Stalling, Tsu’tey realised.

When they straightened, they wouldn’t meet his eyes. He knew, because he was watching their face now, observing them mull over a question, turning it this way and that before allowing it to take shape. Tsu’tey remained quiet as they thought it through, content to feel them move onto his arms, then the back of his neck.

<”When we bond.”> They finally said, punching the breath from Tsu’tey even though he half expected a question of this variety. <”Would you bond with my avatar to get the full connection? You know, because this body won’t allow you to feel anything.”> Tsu’tey swallowed. Hard. He had asked himself the same question countless times. Even more so after seeing his mate in their human form. <”Just because it has not been done before, does not mean it cannot be done.”>

Their hands still on him, and Tsu’tey turned slowly. <”So you want to try? With me?”> They pressed, struggling to keep the hope from their voice. Tsu’tey immediately softened in seeing his own unease reflected back at him. <”I would want nothing else, Yawne. Always with you.”>

They smiled, allowing him to pull them in with a touch to their hips. <”What does that mean?”>

<”In your tongue, beloved.”>

<”Sappy.”>

Tsu’tey laughed, relieved and happy and excited, all rolled into one roiling tempest in his gut. His hands shook as he pulled his kuru forward over his shoulder. The neural whip itself was tingling beneath the protective hair, as it usually did before he communed with Eywa or was anticipating forming a connection. The pull was constant now, and Tsu’tey knew who it was drawing him to.

<”Be gentle.”> He warned, warmed by how they nodded eagerly. <”It is very sensitive.”>

Hesitantly, they reached for him, fingers unsure but tender as they admired Tsu’tey’s neat braid. He allowed them to explore, letting go of his kuru and allowing his every shudder and uneven breath to be obvious. Every reaction only seemed to encourage their exploration. Igniting that familiar fire of curiosity in their eyes as they gradually made their way closer and closer to where Tsu’tey wanted them. 

It felt like forever when they finally reached the end of his kuru, and gently held it up to their eye level. Tsu’tey’s cheeks heated as the hairs parted to allow his tendrils to slip free. The wiggling nerves were not shy in searching for something to bond to. They wound around each other, spread wide again and flared as his mate watched. 

His mate glanced at him for permission before they moved to connect anything, eyes full of wonder. Tsu’tey nodded eagerly, suddenly desperate for what it would feel like to finally bond with them. To finally See them in their entirety, and for them to See him in return. He was hungry for it. Starving in a way that could not be satiated in any other way. 

Once again, they took their time observing him, carefully examining and coming to conclusions before they raised their exposed wrists and offered them to Tsu’tey’s eager tendrils. The effect was immediate. Like a kenten to honey berries, his tendrils darted forward, wrapping around the exposed skin with a suddenness that made his mate gasp.

Tsu’tey was quick to soothe them, his hands grabbing at their waist and leading them to come sit in his lap as he shifted to sit on his heels. They followed his lead, pupils unusually wide and unseeing. Feeling nothing, Tsu’tey busied himself with running his hands up and down their back as they breathed through it, the tendrils wrapped around their wrist glowing in time to Tsu’tey’s heartbeat.

“Fuck.” They breathed. <“It’s like sensory overload.”> Tsu’tey’s languid touch froze. <“Is it bad?”>

<“No. God no. Just.”> They trailed off, blinking slowly. <“Different. Can you feel this?”>

<“I cannot.”> Tsu’tey admitted. <“What can you feel?”> <“All of it.”> They told him. <“Everything. It’s like I’m back in my avatar.”> He hummed. 

<“Can you feel me?”> They nodded, so he continued. <“Try reaching out to me, through the bond.”>

They nodded. But for a while nothing happened, even as their eyes slipped closed and their eyebrows drew together in concentration, Tsu’tey didn’t feel so much as a ripple. With his mind linked to theirs he tried to keep his disappointment down. Tried to push feelings of happiness and content down the bond instead of the internal discomfort of having everything he <i>was</i> visible to them, only to feel nothing in return-

There!

He felt something on the edge of his consciousness. Weak and phantom like but no doubt real. 

<“That is it.”> He encouraged, <”try again.”> And they did. This time, the contact was like hands coming together and holding on tight to one another instead of a passing touch of fingers tracing down someone’s palm. Tsu’tey lurched to grip back, his consciousness holding on tightly. 

It slammed into him like an ikran at full speed. His mouth dropped open at the flood of sheer feeling that suddenly overwhelmed every corner of his mind. His comforting grip on his mate turned bruising as he tried to anchor himself in the real world and not drift away in the current of them. In the back of his mind, he knew they were still out in the open, and getting too wrapped up in one another, but it was addictive. 

No wonder his People put such an emphasis on Tsaheylu. The bond was everything. It was comfort and reassurance. It was give and take. To have and to give. To own and be owned in return. To be Seen.

And oh did Tsu’tey See. 

Everything they had ever gone through was laid before him at that moment. From the difficulty of their life on a dying planet, to the turmoil of signing said life away. He felt the grogginess of waking up in an alien environment after six years of slumber. He marvelled at the internal structure of Hell’s Gate, feeling glee as they did when they were officially given an office and link unit, and then he felt the freedom of linking up to an alien body for the first time. In a brief flash, he saw his own snarling face as he glanced up through the branches only for the avatar to come crashing down on him and his pa’li. He felt the affection through the bond at the memory. The happiness at finding him. The relief of no longer having to blindly navigate an alien world, even if he was a reluctant teacher.

From there, he is in the flashes more frequently. Finally Seeing himself through another's eyes and being continuously overwhelmed by the sheer volume of mounting love and adoration that swelled with each memory. Their hope threatened to drown him. Their loneliness tried to reduce him to tears.

And through it all, Tsu’tey held them close. Clung to their body as they grabbed at his, holding on for dear life as he in turn was laid bare before them. 

This was Tsaheylu in its entirety, and Tsu’tey mused that he was already becoming addicted. 

Gradually, the intensity of it all began to slow and reduce to background noise. Never fully, but just enough that he could remain connected to them and focus on the forest at the same time. 

“Fuck.” They said again, in awe. “You feel so much.”

Tsu’tey scoffed in amusement. If anything, he feared he felt too little. Especially since the demons had shown further interest in his home. Even more so after he became Olo’eyktan and the safety of the clan was pressing constantly down on his shoulders. Definitely with the threat of more demons lurking in the very forests that were supposed to be safe for his People-

Something warm and soothing washed away his anxious thoughts through the bond and Tsu’tey let out a relieved breath. 

<”Focus on me, mate.”> They encouraged, idly tracing the stripes that curved over his cheeks. The gentle touch had him melting into them. Before he could stop it, a purr was rumbling to life deep in his chest. Full and unfiltered in a way it hadn’t been in years. <”There you go.”> They praised him quietly, fingers feather light against his thick skin, tracing the phantom of his freckles along the high of his cheeks and then up his nose to his temple.

<”I See you Tsu’tey.”> His mate whispered, setting his heart alight with affection and relief. <”My Olo’eyktan. My hunter. My friend. My mate. My Tsu’tey.”> They said his name with notes of worship woven into the syllables. The way the People more commonly speak Eywa’s name instead of a mere mate.

<”You are everything to me.”> They assured him, having felt the insecurity riddled in his thought process. <”I acknowledge everything you were and everything you could be. I see all of you Tsu’tey, past and present.”> And oh Eywa, if that wasn’t the most perfect vowel Tsu’tey had ever heard.

His throat was thick with emotion, overwhelming and unexpected as his sheer affection towards this sky person slammed into him at full force.

<”Thank you.”> He whispered. For loving me. He didn’t say. For Seeing me and continuing to love me anyway. For Seeing every ugly part of me. Every bad decision, every explosive temper tantrum and every mistake, and continuing to look at me like that.

<”I know.”> They said aloud, because he couldn’t. Because he feared he would begin to sob if he dared voice anything he thought. He was still scared. He realised. To give form to anything that he couldn’t control. 

<”I know.”> They repeated, and he believed them. 

<”I see you.”> Tsu’tey whispered back, and the beam of a smile he got in return made everything worth it. 

<”God, you’re gorgeous.”> His mate complimented him, hands gentle on either side of his face. And Tsu’tey found he believed them. Although normally he would use words like ‘handsome’ or ‘attractive’ or ‘strong’ to describe himself, he found that ‘gorgeous’ somehow fit too. But only after he’d seen himself through their eyes. Only after he’d witnessed the galaxies of his freckles through their eyes. Only after he’d seen the hidden expressiveness of his large, golden eyes and the ‘cute’ twitch of his ears. He understood, and he was overwhelmed.

He didn’t even have to part his lips to give word to his thoughts for his mate to reach for where they were connected. With surprising ease, they managed to untangle their wrist from his tendrils and return his kuru to where it had previously hung against his chest.

<”Better?”> They asked him, stroking down his cheeks.

He hummed, his muscles feeling like jelly as he leaned some of his weight into them, his face pressed into their stomach. Absently, he noticed he was still purring but couldn’t find it in him to care much, and in his next sigh, he allowed it to kick up a notch. To which his mate huffed in amusement and started fiddling with his ears. 

<”We should probably get going.”> His mate prompted.

<”Probably.”> Tsu’tey agreed but made no attempt to move.

<”Come on mate.”> 

That got him sitting up. Their expression was soft as they looked down at him, all open and content. A stark contrast to the panic of earlier. 

<”Let's go home.”>

He nodded and forced himself to rise to his feet, only to pause as his mate too their hand from his face. Catching them by the wrist, he brought it back to his eye level. THe skin that had been fused to his kuru was discoloured now. Not in the way that suggested an incoming bruise. But in the sense that it had taken on the appearance of a year old scar, the skin darker in pigment and set in the pattern of his spiralling tendrils. Somehow, Tsu’tey instinctively knew that if he were to reconnect them both here and now, his tendrils would attach over the scar in an identical pattern as to how they did here. 

<”Gorgeous.”> Tsu’tey breathed, thumbing the permanent mark his queue had left on his mate’s skin. Feeling something possessive awaken deep in his chest at the physical evidence of them being his. All his.

Previous Chapter <- Act 7 -> Next Chapter

[ofthedirewolves]

OPENING COMMISSIONS

Hello all,

Commissions are open once again because I am in a jam. I keep getting job rejections, I’ve sold a lot of things but it never seems to be enough. So I really need some extra help. I don’t like asking for help but it’s currently my only option. I need to open commissions to pay for some debts coming up.

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Below is a mostly full list of my fandoms (also let me know if there’s a fandom you’re interested and not on the list bc I might be forgetting it)

Ships: Queliot, Klaroline, Steddie, Ronance, Kathony, Dair Games: Uncharted, Hades, Pokemon, Baldur’s Gate 3, Dimension 20, Critical Role C1, Movies: Top Gun Maverick, Ready or Not, Any Star Wars* (just no Reylo), IT/IT Ch 2, Alice (Syfy), Fast & Furious Series, ,Pirates of the Caribbean (just no D*pp please), the Mummy, Count of Monte Cristo TV Shows: Game of Thrones, Lucifer, the Sandman, Good Omens, Teen Wolf, Once Upon a Time, Doctor Who, Broadchurch, Merlin, Ted Lasso, One tree hill, Heroes, Gilmore Girls, Wynonna Earp, Black Sails, Justified, The Witcher, White Collar, Supernatural, Veronica Mars (original series), Friday Night Lights, Leverage, Haven, Runaways, The Royals, Marvelous Mrs Maisel, 9-1-1, BTVS, Angel, She-Ra Books: ASOIAF, A Discovery of Witches, Red White & Royal Blue, X Men, Greek Mythology,

Not really my fandom but I know enough; Grisha Verse, MCU, Star Trek, Hazbin Hotel, Hunger Games, Craig Bond, inception, Percy Jackson, Outlander, elementary, Timeless, DCTV, Silo

(*Admittedly I don’t really know Rebels)

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[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4587

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS 

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to. 

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” 

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”  

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice. 

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more. 

“You ever shot a gun before?” 

“Absolutely not.” I answer. 

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs.  “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?” 

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.” 

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.” 

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan. 

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.” 

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers. 

“I’m sorry.” I say to him. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.” 

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says. 

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys. 

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.” 

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.” 

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” 

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.” 

“I mean it.” she answers. 

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states. 

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.” 

“Screw that.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah. Screw that.” 

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand. 

“Just point and shoot?” 

“Just point and shoot.” 

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”  

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.” 

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.” 

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.” 

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”. 

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level. 

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.”  I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub. 

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them. 

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.” 

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send. 

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence. 

“What?” Jonathan says. 

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation. 

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.” 

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists. 

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—” 

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.” 

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.” 

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?” 

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?” 

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake. 

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!” 

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him. 

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.” 

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.” 

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance. 

“I never said that.” 

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?” 

“No.” 

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.” 

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble. 

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages. 

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire. 

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’” 

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’” 

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path. 

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought. 

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear. 

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.” 

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.” 

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.” 

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.” 

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways. 

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock. 

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away. 

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes. 

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.” 

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.” 

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?” 

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect. 

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?” 

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? 

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch. 

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably. 

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this? 

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.” 

“My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…” 

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes. 

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock. 

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.” 

“You know now and that’s the first step.” 

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.” 

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again. 

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!” 

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.” 

“Really? Wow!” 

I scrunch my nose. “I know.” 

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it. 

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me.  “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.” 

“My dad will never allow that.” 

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” 

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.” 

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree. 

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks. 

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.” 

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.   

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.” 

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!” 

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.” 

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us. 

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream. 

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts. 

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.” 

“Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know.” 

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.” 

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!” 

“Watch my stuff.” 

“Are you crazy?” I snap. 

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied. 

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side. 

CHAPTER 6: THE MONSTER

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[strangecassette]

Mouthwashing is so haunting. A story about the consequences of enablers, of responsibility, flayed and splayed out on the backdrop of late stage capitalism. Spoilers/disorganized ramble below heed the tws in the tags

The scene where Anya points out the dead pixel on the night/day screen, and Curly says he never noticed and can't find it. He's more of a "big picture guy", just like how he minimized what the game implies Jimmy did to Anya. The whole screen is just... a metaphor for the crew. This idyllic screen, their only version of a "window" displaying the Earth's sun and moon, a mere illusion. Just like the illusion that the crew is a family, somehow bonded and friendly-- an inverse to the reality. Jimmy is a rapist, Anya was hired as the ship medic despite a lack of education/license to practice due to the cheap ass company they're all under the boot of. Swansea is a recovering alcoholic who hates his family and regards the best days of his life to be when he was deep in the throes of addiction opposed to starting a family or sacrificing decades to a company that couldn't give two shits about him, Daisuke is a burnout kid shoved on them as an intern-- but ultimately a liability and extra mouth to feed on a nearly year-long trek through space. And Curly, their keeper, blind to the danger, to the break in his illusion, which ultimately sets all of this on fire. Jimmy is the dead pixel, the error to overlook. Then there's the scene just before Curly enters the cockpit to give Jimmy his psych eval. The way he drops into nothing and lands on some random planet, only for the ship's warning system to appear around him, along with broken ladders shooting up. The way the star expands and the game literally won't let the PC look away as it swallows everything up.

Curly knew how much of a liability Jimmy was, but put his personal connection to him over the truth, the WARNING SIGNS, screwed everyone. Because Curly chose to ignore, refused to see things for what they were, past his idyllic illusion of a little crew he cared for and protected, everything went to hell under his watch. Yes, it's tragic and he had a fate worse than death, one he didn't deserve, but in a game all about responsibility, this is, ironically, all happening because he didn't truly take responsibility for the situation. One of his crew was raped and impregnated, and instead of addressing it and protecting Anya, he appeased and ignored. Sorry, this is going in circles, it's just so fucked. Not to judge too harshly, but there are plenty of "accidents" to be had in deep space. It really wasn't that hard to orchestrate one for Jimmy, or hold him in a makeshift brig-- Hell, Curly, as the captain, was the ONLY ONE with access to the gun, and he never thought to turn it on Jimmy? Because he couldn't accept the reality that this man he'd known and cared for, wanted better for, was a fucking monster. There's a real irony that the one thing Curly could have used to protect his crew, to take true responsibility over his own damn ship, Jimmy got a hold of to kill the last person who had a chance to hold him accountable. Anyway. This is a good game that managed to take heavy inspiration from Silent Hill while still being something entirely new. Play this game to get absolutely fucked up.

[sweetcocopowder]

Pitch Black Dahlias Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

Synopsis: Danger comes into the picture and Nate wants to finish the job

Word Count: 1K

Pairing: Paladin Danse / Male Sole Survivor (Nate)

Notes: Like I said in a previous post, I'm posting more frequently on ao3 and there's already six chapters to this fic on there. So if you want quicker updates, head over there ahha

The SuperMart comes into view in all its run-down glory. Nate lets out a long, loud exhale that has Danse chuckling softly under his breath. The trek had been a long one that had taken almost the entire day. The sun sets low in the sky and cast an orange shimmer across the wasteland sky. It gives a soft warmth to Nate’s dark eyes that only someone like Danse would notice.

“Let’s get in and out, it’s later than I expected,” Nate comments as he moves quick. He takes large strides across the court yard in the Lexington, the grass a green grey that crunches under foot.

An old factory shadows over the buildings on the block and hides half of the setting sun. Beams of light shine off the metal structure that reflect onto the copper green statue in the centre of the courtyard. The sun blinds Danse and he can’t get a good look at the factory unless he’s squinting and shielding his eyes and-

Danse stops in the centre of the yard next to the statue. He peers over at the factory with a deep-set frown. He squints his eyes a little further to spy what he thought he saw. If only the sun wasn’t in his face, he’d be able to spot the moving mass a little better.

“What are you looking at?” Nate asks, coming up behind the former Paladin.

As if answering the survivor, a loud, quaking roar vibrates the air. Danse recognises it immediately, his blood running cold through his synthetic veins. Now that his eyes have adjusted a little to the blinding light, he can make out what he’s looking at. The huge, massing muscle of the creature swings the fire hydrate into the factory with a powerful crash that leaves the ground shaking underfoot. The raiders that have taken refuge within the factory shoot and throw everything they have at the thick wall of mutated skin and teeth. But some gunfire falls silent as the creature grips the fighting raiders within its thick fingered grasp.

“Behemoth,” Danse utters out.

He suddenly feels very exposed, out in the open like with only a few guns. The Behemoth is only a block away from them up on the hill. The sun had blinded them both so that they wouldn’t spot the creature moving in the shadow of the factory. Was Danse so in his own head he hadn’t noticed it!? Hadn’t heard the chaos that the creature leaves in it’s wake.

“We need to go,” Danse fumbles out as he grabs onto Nate’s upper arm.

He begins dragging him away from the SuperMart that has Nate digging in his heels. The survivor yanks his arm from Danse’s tight grip and takes a few steps away from him. Fury ignites like a gas fire inside of Danse just as quickly as it evaporates. He stares wide eyed at Nate, the only emotion he feels now being one of confusion. He can’t understand why Nate can’t see what he sees. They’re out gunned and out matched! Can’t he see the danger right in front of them in bold super mutant green!?

If they turn their back on the Behemoth for even a second, let it out of their sight for a mere moment they’re both dead. Danse can’t have that. Not when Nate has fought so hard for both of them to be here.

“The SuperMart is right there,” Nate confronts firmly. “I’m not just up and leaving without finishing the job.”

Danse swallows thickly. He wouldn’t normally high tail it like a cowering dog, but he’s seen firsthand what a Behemoth can do to a simple man without the right equipment or artillery. Danse’s heart beats within his chest. The mere thought of seeing Nate underfoot of the Behemoth sends a violent shiver down his spine. He doesn’t think he could live with that. He steps towards Nate again with an outstretched hand, but he stops himself short.

Nate’s dark blue eyes stare at him with such an intensity that Danse forgets for a moment where they are. He also forgets what Nate was. A soldier. From a time before Danse could even imagine of. Where things were green and lively with the constant threat of nuclear annihilation on the horizon. And it had come. That threat had turned to punches being thrown and Nate had seen it all.

Nate reaches for Danse’s outstretched hand, interlocking their fingers together. A million expression must have washed over Danse’s normally stoic features ‘cause he notices the survivor’s own expression soften. The ground shakes underneath them and the Behemoth roars loudly, a deep sound that vibrates the air. Danse wants to look, be blinded by the sun once more but- yet the way that the sun catches Nate’s eyes. He can see the colour they truly are when Nate is staring directly into the light. Such a deep blue that even the sun has trouble lighting them up.

“Do you trust me to do this job, Danse?” Nate asks, his voice soft yet firm at the same time.

Only two word falls from Danse’s mouth. He doesn’t hesitate nor does he think of any other answer, almost forgetting about all the worries he was fretting over just mere moments before. He would be lying if he didn’t say it.

“Of course.”

A wide smile spreads across Nate’s handsome features. He looks over Danse’s shoulders to the Behemoth, hoping just like the ex-Paladin, that once it’s finished with the raiders it doesn’t wonder over here. They need to deliver the package and go.

Nate lets go of Danse’s hand, but he keeps it outstretched as he takes a few steps backwards. He speaks firmly next, one that reminds Danse on just how Nate has survived this long in the wasteland. A man out of time.

“Follow me. We’ve got a package to deliver, and we’ll be gone before that big bastard even knew we were here.”

And Danse follows with his gun cocked in hand, the ground shaking once again as the Behemoth brings its fire hydrate down into a screaming raider. The former Paladin doesn’t even glance a look over his shoulder. His eyes are on Nate and only Nate.

-

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[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 5

Sorry about missing the last update! I'm finally getting back on track, and I'm super excited for these next couple chapters! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me!

Tw: blood, gore, minor character death, guns

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Recap:

“7-6, task a bird for casualty evac.”

Everyone could feel the solemn energy around the team, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it until they finished their objective.

Bravo 7-6: called back a short, “Rog'.”

Ghost rolled his shoulders back, allowing himself a moment to take inventory of his equipment before instructing the others to do the same.

“Get yourselves sorted. Hassan is still the target.”

Soap nodded, almost bouncing on his feet next to Phantom.

“Aye. Let's go get this fucker.”

Phantom rolled her eyes, switching her goggles for a pair of discarded NOD’s that miraculously survived the crash. She walked over to the body of one of her comrades, muttering a soft prayer before removing his ear piece to be able to finally connect it to her radio pack that had minor damage done to it. 

“Alright. Alpha- you're with us.” Ghost walked by Phantom, tapping her left shoulder in a silent command to follow along.

“Roger that, Lieutenant.” 

“Let's move out. Keep near, lads. You too, Captain.” Ghost could see the dangerous glint in Phantom’s eye more clearly before she flipped her night vision down like everyone else.

Ghost, Soap, Phantom and Alpha 0-2 started their trek with the rest of Bravo team down to their next objective: a small cluster of buildings opposite of where they came from. 

Phantom was glad she took the adrenaline shot, lest she be practically dead on her feet. Her grip on her rifle tightened as she followed closely behind Ghost as they all ran across the dark field, weaving their way around the wooden posts and ruined stone walls littered about.

Alpha 0-2 finally voiced what all of them were thinking. 

“Those fuckers used us as bait, didn't they?

Phantom could finally hear over the radio, making her grateful that hers wasn't completely shattered during the crash.

“They're well-supplied and fighting smart. Thanks to Hassan.” Ghost called back.

“Aye... Looks like you were right, L.T. You think Hassan's still here?”

Soap had made it up to Phantom and Ghost, sliding in between them as they continued their way down the hill, finally coming into view of the buildings.

“Helo crash gave 'em an opening.”

“Guess we’ll see if they took it.” Phantom called out over coms, slowing down with the rest of their team.

Overhead, the group watched one of their fighter jets fly overhead as another voice called over the radio.

“Flyboys are still on station.” 

“Rog.’ Visual on building three.”

Ghost nodded his head towards Phantom as they continued their way towards the building, not going as fast as before, and more cautious now that they are within eyesight.

“That’s our target. Hassan could be inside.” Ghost lowered his voice as they all crept forward in the darkness; their NOD’s all across their eyes to help traverse the environment.

A shot rang out towards the team, hitting one of the Marines. 

“Down!” Phantom called as she dragged Soap down with her, the rest of the team dropped to the ground quickly as well.

Ghost’s voice rang out in everyone's ears loudly.

“A.Q. sniper on the roof! Get down! Soap, take out the shooter! Rest o' ya stay low until we're all clear!”

Phantom got her rifle ready just in case, but it wasn’t necessary as Soap dropped the lone sniper, who proceeded to fall forward off the building.

“Sniper down!” Soap called out, allowing everyone to slowly crawl forwards.

“Who’s hit?”

Phantom looked to her right, seeing the downed marine with his rifle a few feet away; poor kid didn't even get a chance to defend himself.

“7-5 is down!”

Another shot rang out just as Phantom caught sight of the green laser pointing in her direction after catching the flash of her scope.

“Shit!”

Phantom rolled onto her side as she shouted out, grabbing onto her left arm tightly.

“Phantom’s hit!. More snipers on the roof. Take them out!”

She growled out in pain, letting go of her arm to grab some binding from one of her vest pouches. Phantom haphazardly, but tightly, bound the oozing gash to hopefully prevent more damage to the appendage. Luckily the bullet wasn't lodged into her skin, mostly just a graze; a nasty one at that, but a graze nonetheless.

“I’m fine!” Phantom radioed in as she turned herself back onto her stomach with her rifle close to her.

The pain wasn’t the worst she's dealt with, but shooting is going to prove as a difficulty. Phantom lined up her shot in between her arm shaking, using the ground to help steady her, and let her finger pull the trigger.

“Sniper down. I got you covered, Ghost!” Phantom called over, staying flat on the ground to take down the AQ snipers that just seem to be flooding to the roof.

Soap and Phantom stayed next to each other as they continued to cover the team while the enemy soldiers fiercely defended the third building.

“AQ's dug in here-- Whatever they're defending, it's fuckin' big!” 

The two of them made their way forward in a crouched position, coming up behind the rest of Bravo team.

“We're getting chewed up out here!”

“AQ's pressing hard-- If Hassan's not here, what the hell is?” Soap sounded confused, but so was everyone.

What the hell could AQ have here if Hassan wasn’t even here?

“We're not getting through here without air support!”

“7-6! I want fire on that building now!” Ghost’s voice rang out again, frustration, and maybe desperation bleeding through his tone.

“Ghost, we don't know if Hassan's in there!” Phantom kneeled down next to him.

“They're forcing our hand! 7-6, hit that building but don't level it.”

“Kilo 0-1. Call for fire. Target is in the building ahead of us. Do not level the building.”

“7-6, copy that, making our run.”

“Force up to that wall! Move!”

Phantom quickly followed his lead, sticking close to him and Soap, trying her best to ignore the painful throbbing in both her skull and left arm. The group made it behind a short stone wall as they waited for air support. The wall provided little cover, but at least it was something.

Phantom peeked out from the side of the wall on Ghost’s left side, her eyes lighting up as a few explosions rang out around the building following the air support firing on it.

“Fucking stunnin.’” Phantom mumbled out.

“A glorious sight.” 

She could hear Soaps' impressed laugh as their team continued watching for a moment before Ghost gave the word to continue forward.

“Yeah, hope Hassan's still in one piece…” Alpha 0-2’s voice rang out.

“Several pieces'll do. Easier to find that way... All Bravo, move up. I want this building locked down. Lead us in, Captain. Soap, make entry. Let's find Hassan. Dead or alive.”

 Phantom shouldered her sniper favor of her M16 for closer combat and stayed on Ghost’s left side until they got to where the front door would have been, had it not got blown off previously. 

“Echo 0-1, moving interior.” Phantom called out, flipping her NOD’s up and sweeping her gaze around the first room.

She heard him before she saw him, registering the repetitive phrase just before she reacted.

“Mut!” Die.

Phantom pulled the trigger without hesitation.

[datcloudboi]

List of Films Turning 30 Years Old in 2024

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

The Adventures of Priscilla: Queen of the Desert

Airheads

Angels in the Outfield (the remake of the 1951 film of the same name)

Beverly Hills Cop III

Black Beauty (the one with Sean Bean in it)

Blankman

Blue Chips

Body Snatchers

Bullets Over Broadway

Clear and Present Danger

Clerks (Kevin Smith's first movie)

Crooklyn

The Crow

Death Wish V: The Face of Death

Double Dragon (based on the game of the same name)

Dragon Ball Z: Broly - The Second Coming

Dragon Ball Z: Bio-Broly

Drunken Master 2

Dumb and Dumber

Eat Drink Man Woman

Ed Wood

Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

The Flintstones

Forrest Gump

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Fresh

Heavenly Creatures (directed by a pre-Lord of the Rings and pre-Knighted Peter Jackson)

The Hudsucker Proxy (one of the more overlooked Coen brothers movies)

Interview With the Vampire

The Jungle Book (the live action version with Jason Scott Lee and Cary Elwes)

Junior (the movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger mpreg)

The Next Karate Kid (do you think the kid from this one will be in the last season of “Cobra Kai”?)

Legends of the Fall

Leon: The Professional

The Lion King

The Little Rascals

Little Woman (the version with Winona Ryder and Kirsten Dunst)

The Mask

Maverick

My Girl 2

The Naked Gun 33 1⁄3: The Final Insult (typing this out was way harder than you think)

Natural Born Killers

North

The Pagemaster

Pom Poko

Pulp Fiction

Quiz Show

Reality Bites (the first film directed by Ben Stiller)

The Return of Jafar (the sequel to "Aladdin")

The Santa Clause

The Shadow

The Shawshank Redemption

Speed

Squanto: A Warrior's Tale

Star Trek: Generations

Stargate

Street Fighter (based on the game of the same name)

Thumbelina

Timecop

A Troll in Central Park

True Lies

Wes Craven's New Nightmare (the meta-sequel to all of the Freddy Krueger movies where Wes Craven has to keep writing new installments to make sure that Freddy doesn’t break into our world)

Wyatt Earp

[survivalist-anon]

Log 23: Changing Gears

Back at Pine Hills, me and Fjord were preparing for a quick trek around the mountain range.

I had become infamous in the local outdoorsmen shop in town over the past few years. With every visit, I would make a small bet on my own survival on the local bulletin board. The shop owners have had to state warnings to certain folks that betting on me is a losing bet.

Everytime I comeback, at least someone loses a few bucks.

But today I wasn't in the gambling mood. Neither was the store owners, who were close friends of my grandfather. As I was browsing for new equipment or anything else we needed in terms of gear, Fjord was exploring the store with me.

He stuck to me like a holster, it was a strange for me considering prior to my ex and afterwards I had been single for the longest time.

It was.... refreshing to have a companion to say the least.

We head towards the gun displays for some extra arrows for my bow. I used a standard lightweight hunting bow. It was a small thing but practical for long treks.

Doug, the owner was looking at the both of us curiously, "I see you moved on to bigger and better 'things' I assume, dear.". He was referring to Fjord.

His ears nearly visibly perked up. "Ugh?"

"Oh, he's a friend, he'll be staying with me for a while.", a while it seems could be until I'm on my death bed considering how old Fjord could actually get.

He looks down and smiles a little, "yes, my name is Fjord. Pleasure to meet you.", he shuffles his shoulders a little. Likely flexing his broad frame.

"Hm, pleasure to meet yah, Lorey my condolences by the way. He was an honored friend here ...", Doug let out a deep sigh. "I assume the usual?", he goes to a corner of the display case and brings out a box of specialized hunting arrows. "Honestly even if they discontinue these there'll still be enough for you to buy for the next years. Most folks use guns and ammo.", he showed a large wall of different hunting rifles, guns and replicas.

"Hmf, I've seen bigger. They're delicate pieces aren't they lass?", nudging my back a little.

I look to the wall, "yeah, at least I can find and reuse my arrows."

A gruff huff from Doug let's out like a frustrated hog, in spite of his friendship with my grandpa, he wasn't too keen on my preference of weapons. Just that good ol'merican love for the Smith & Wesson I suppose. "Bigger egh? You from the fort up north?".

Fjord, a little distracted at the wall, glances down at Doug. "Oh no, I am part of a squadron but I'm not from around here.", he than glances over to the target wall. Seeing targets of bears, deer, wolves and a masked man with a gun. ".... interesting selection."

I gather my arrows, but as I pick some of them up, I noticed a Wonder Mart logo on the box, just poorly stuck on. "... they bought this brand too?", pointed at the sticker.

Doug glared at it, "yeeeep. They've been here, they pay well too actually. The store owner actually did a partnership ship mostly because so many folks buy here. I get a few deductibles from purchasing at Wonder Mart for doing my part. So it's a win win for me. Hehe.".

"....you might want to see this than.", I take out my phone and show the picture of McGregor's property. "They're sabotaging the farms now, the egg box was smashed up.".

Doug's mouth drops agape, "well I'll be damned!? You've shown this to McGregor?".

I shake my head, "no not yet, I'm waiting to see if I hear some more complaints. I'm not sure if it was a disgruntled employee or something management directed, so I'm not saying anything yet."

"well now....I'll sure ask around than. I'll bet I can get a few tips too.", Doug pondered.

"well thanks for the help", I nod.

Me and Fjord look around the store a little more, collect a few more items for the trek and pay for the items.

Entering the car, the both of us try to figure out what to do next.

"hmmm, I say we head to the fort lass, than we set up the cameras the way Aldercon wants. Just to be safe.", Fjord suggested.

I can't argue with that logic, after all.

"Yeah, he may not like our joke plan too. Better stay on his good side.", I start the car and head back home where we can gear up.

After an hour or so, he head inside and get the gear ready. "You're going in your armor I assume?", I ask Fjord.

"Yes I believe so lass, remember that traitor marine from your facility's camera?", Fjord had just reminded me of that footage....this may actually be a better opportunity to place more eyes in the forest.

"actually.....you've just gave me an idea....we can use the cameras in more harder places to place them, seem of we find anything else and just tell Benedict the footage got lost.", it's closer to stealing and lying but it's the lesser of two evils in our case.

Fjord's chuffs a little, probably feeling very clever to have inspired me. Which is a fact. "Hehe, I see we have a mission, I'll go and put my armor on.", he headed to the garage where he had left his things.

It has passed maybe a few minutes and I have already finished getting on for the smaller essentials, it was now time to get the bigger stuff like a tarp and some rope. As I head to the garage and just as I was about to knock...

I hear Fjord... praying? It was in a language I couldn't recognize at all....I stood there listening to it, then the clicking of what I assumed is him equiping those big, metal plates for his armor. Than just him stomping a bit, likely taking a step or two.

*knock knock*, "Hey Fjord, you doing ok? May I come in? I just need to get some things.", he opens the door and see him in full armor again.

It had been a days or so that I have seen him without his armor, he looked massive in it. In fact I had completely forgotten that this was his norm.

"Ah hello lass, are we almost ready?", he glinted a smile.

I smile back, "yeah, just need to prep a few more things and than we're all set. Speaking of which, let's check that box the other guy gave to us.".

He nods at me, at first he had readied himself to come through the already small doorway, until he had realized he was a little too big to fit. "oh, hehe, right. I can grab the items here and we look at the supplies outside, no?".

"yeah, hold on then.", I press the garage button, as the door opens, it revealed someone was at the opening.

Waiting just outside the garage door.

It was Ronnie. Just standing on the little slope leading down the hill.

"Hey Lorey.......", he wasn't surprised or shocked. In fact was worried me the most is that he looked like as if his suspensions were confirmed.

As for the both of us, I could hardly imagine the look of shock on both our faces. Feeling like we've been caught in the act.

"ugh.....Ronnie....I ...ugh...I can explain....", I genuinely had no idea how to explain this situation nor how I was going to convince him not to ask anything more about this whole..... situation?

I could see Fjord's hair was standing on end, but I could feel he was conflicted about having to choose to attack Ronnie or risk having his cover blown so easily.

Ronnie walked up slowly, his face stoic as if he was putting a front of confidence, but his movements betrayed a level of caution often seen in the field: it's the stride of someone heading directly to danger without wanting anyone knowing they're scared shitless.

"so.....that explains a lot....", Ronnie casually pointed out. "So......which one are you?"

If I could see from a fourth perspective, I was sure both me and Fjord had tilted our heads in syncly. "I beg your pardon lad?", Fjord asked carefully.

"...which one...of those metal men....are you?", Ronnie's expression hadn't changed, but the assertion in his tone said otherwise. "Are you the one....who's been attacking people? Hmm? The one some of the families around town have spotted in the campgrounds?"

Ronnie was interrogating Fjord? Did he not recognize the armor from the videos, he should be smarter than that.

Or was he so afraid of Fjord that all he could think about is what he is capable of.

This wasn't like Ronnie at all, he was usually more laid back than this .....what happened recently?

Ronnie turned to me, "....well ....Lorey, which one is he?", the stoic expression on his face soften to seek reassurance from me.

"Ron, he is one of the trio that walked passed the cameras, he isn't the one that killed the campers.......", it was than I realized something, Fjord's armor was covered in teeth, patches of pelts and runes, could it be something had developed back at the station? "Ron....what happened?"

Ronnie gave a sadden huff, it's....one of the volunteers.........Carly...she....she was heading to the ridge with one of the new hire, Conner......she was attacked, Connor said it was one of them.", he pointed to Fjord, glaring at him. "Said it was greyish, with fur, and claws....just like Fjord's ...armor....she was sent to the hospital and....she didn't make it", he stared daggers at Fjord.

This was horrible, the fact that Carly was attacked had made my heart crash right down to my stomach. There was no way another Space wolf was here, even if there was, why would they attack Carly of all people?! She wouldn't hurt anyone, this had to have been attacked by one of the 'corrupted ones'.

"I assure you, Ronnie....I am the only one of my pack here for the moment.....I am sure there is a good explanation for this...", Fjord was doing a much better job at keeping his composure.

I shake my head in disbelief, "Ron, he's been with me the whole time. Tied to the hip practically, when did this happen?".

He looked at the both of us, "this morning.....". I could see his shoulders and chest moving up and down even faster. "...rrrrrrRRRAAHHH!", he suddenly jolted at Fjord his a closed fist and landed a blow on to Fjord's chest plate.

With an audible cracking of broken finger bones.

Tears rolled down his eyes, but I doubt it was from the throbbing pain of his now broken fist. He lifted his damaged hand off of the plate and it had left four little blood smears.

Fjord hadn't reacted at all, but he felt for Ronnie. "...lad....I'm sorry.....w-we...will investigate this murder......I swear it....also....I'm... certain you have have broken yo-"

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT MAN!", Ronnie yelled at him, cradling his hand.

I was getting too old for this level of bullshit, I calmly head to the first aid kit, take out some wood scraps from the tool drawer and go straight to tending to Ronnie's hand.

"Ronnie.....what do you always tell me when I loose my shit....and jump to conclusions.....no matter how terrible shit gets?", I ask putting a disinfectant on his now swelling knuckles.

He was shaking in frustration, honestly I commend him for that considering he just raw punched an Astartes in the chest without any hesitation....it's either bravery or something else....

"......n-never...lose y-your cool....w-when you know....t-theres two sides-AH-", he flinch as I had probably touched a tender area, "-of the same story....".

I nod my head, "yes... because the truth?", I look to him eye to eye.

He looks at me, his gaze soften at little, "...is just hiding under the surface....". He lets out a heavy sigh, looking at his wrapped up hand. "Lorey....what the hell is going on around here?", his question felt very vague....

I look to Fjord, "....I...think we may need to tell Aldercon about this.....".

His expression says it all, "....I believe so.... maybe he will be a little bit.... willing?".

Ronnie looked at Fjord, "what the hell are you talking about? Willing for what?".

I could feel he still didn't fully trust Fjord anymore, but I'm certain he didn't have much of a choice. "Willing to let you....know about ugh...well...all of this.", I point to Fjord, than some of my gear. "....we were going to place cameras around the parts of the mountain the team hadn't placed yet.....it's for that guy, Benedict."

The stern face loosen to a face of realization, "....that Gabe Newell looking guy?.... Lorey yah know he's fucking weird right?". It was as if all his anger had just evaporated, as if the tension broke with some shitty joke.

"yep.....he literally accused Fjord of being a space dogman.", he look at him....dead in the eyes with no change in tone.

He looked to Fjord, who had given an awkward smile, "if it will make you feel better, I did find the accusation very upsetting.", obviously he was lying.

Suddenly, Ronnie was chuckling to himself, "....man...I cannot be this dumb, there ain't no way it's the same guy.....but...what Jeff had said about you....is that shit true?", his seriousness came back but just barely.

The smile had shrunk a little, "...I threw his vehicle at him...yes....".

Ronnie was piecing things together, "aight...fine... Lorey just please tell me what the hell is going on?".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been an hour after that whole Punch incident, as the three of us trek down the same path as before.

"How are you doing there, Ronnie? You're hand still hurting?", he turned over his shoulder to see Ronnie still looking at him with a slight glare.

"ya...I'm fine....", he curtly answered.

I couldn't help but feel the tension between the two of them hadn't changed much, "ugh hey Ronnie, I have this ointment the other space marines had given me and Fjord, maybe it will fix your hand a little?", I take out the healing ointment, it was a heavy metal tin with wording I couldn't recognize. "....hmf, I wish I can read this...".

Fjord than stopped a little to look at the tin, "it says 'Lubricant', it think it's the other tin, lass.".

"oh, one second", I rummage through the bag again and find another tin.

"Ah that's the one.", Fjord cooed.

Ronnie was still emotionless, probably thinking the same thoughts as me earlier this week. "Man come on, they speak a different language too?".

"Yep, different cultures and everything.", I open the tin and the strong, musky, and shockingly bitter smell of the ointment hit out nostrils. "Holy shit what the hell is this?!"

"Ah fuck no! It smells fucking foul man I ain't putting that shit on m-AHOW FUK!", Fjord had gently grabbed Ronnie's arm, had already stuck one finger into the ointment and gently spread it under the tourniquet.

"there we go, it should be fine in a few hours, heals everything from most infections to broken bones.", he grinned a little at Ronnie.

However, Ronnie was skeptical, "are you telling me this is some miracle cream or something shit?". He looked at Fjord than at his arm.

As it turned out, it was healing rather quickly.

"yo...this is something freaky shit.", he could even move his fingers a little bit now.

"Let it rest, it should be better by the time we head to the Fort.", Fjord turned and began walking ahead.

Ronnie's head shot up, "Fort?! The fuck these are in a fort for?".

I shake my head, "well it's what they're use to. They're more comfortable in a military environment, so...they make do.", I motioned to him to hurry a long.

He stood there speechless, "....this better not be some secret underground government bullshit...we already work with that kind of shit.", he sounded upset but he was still willing to accept some of this new insanity.

"Well, let's just say, the government doesn't know about them....much.", it's all I could reasonably state.

End of log 23

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster @starfrost740 @squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog @lawnchair86

[justsomerandomfanfic]

I Just Want To Say...

THANK YOU to the fellow writers, creators, authors, and artists that are listed below! You guys have inspired me on so many levels! Your work, art, and fanfics always bring a smile to my face, I love reading them so much. I hope you guys keep creating more amazing works and continue to inspire and make others smile too! I'm rooting for all! And I can't wait to see what you all do next! - Chloe <3

I implore those who see this post, to check out these fabulous creators, give them love!

@maxineswritingcenter - Works; Supernatural, Teen Wolf, The Vampire Diaries, The Witcher, X-Files, Marvel, TrueBlood, and ClusterFluff

@minaturefics - Works; Lord Of The Rings

@cauliflowertree - Works; Harry Potter, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Little Women, Twilight, Dead Poets Society, Gilmore Girls, Bridgerton, Criminal Minds, Vampire Diaries, and Teen Wolf

@x-files-imagines - Works; X-Files

@space-helen - Works; Marvel, Star Trek, SCI, Twilight, X-Files, Harry Potter, and Midnight Mass

@okay-j-hannah - Works; The Last Of Us, Narcos, The Mandalorian, Broadchurch, Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, Dune, Games Of Thrones, Good Omens, Grey's Anatomy, Harry Potter, Marauders Era, Marvel, Pirates Of The Caribbean, Sherlock Holmes (BBC), Stranger Things, The Hobbit, and The Lord Of The Rings

@justauthoring - Works; Naruto, Haikyuu, Attack On Titan, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Death Note, Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Revengers, Blue Lock, Chainsaw Man, Stranger Things, The Quarry, Cobra Kai, and more!

@french-vanilla-in-the-clouds - Works; Sherlock (BBC), Supernatural, Marvel, and X-Files

@hellcomestohawkins - Works; Stranger Things, Arctic Monkeys, White Lines, X-Files

@theawfuledges - Works; Daybreakers, The Magnificent Seven, Breath Of The Wild, Digimon, Moon Knight, Demon Slayer, Silent Hill, The Quarry, CCS, TMNT, Inuyasha, Yu Yu Hakusho, Pokemon, Resident Evil, Godzilla, Deadpool 2, Bright (2017), The Evil Within, Hellboy, The Hobbit, IT (2017), and more!

@ficsnroses - Works; John Wick, Better Call Saul, Keanu Reeves, and Johnny Silverhand (CP 2077)

@immawriteyouthings - Works; The Hobbit, and more!

@author-morgan - Works; Game Of Thrones, Vikings, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, and more!

@masterofmunson - Works; Stranger Things, Moon Knight, The Amazing Spider-Man, Harry Styles, Marvel, and Criminal Minds

@aniqua - Works; Marvel, The Sandman, Shadow And Bone, Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and The Punisher

@whirlybirbs - Works; Star Wars, Marvel, Red Dead, Kingsman, Transformers, Peaky Blinders, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and more!

@luna-xial - Works; The Hobbit

@lilxberry - Works; Marvel, DC, Harry Potter, Euphoria, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Riverdale, The Walking Dead, The Karate Kid, Cobra Kai, and 13 Reasons Why

@guardianofrivendell - Works; The Hobbit

@strawwritesfic - Works; Harry Potter, Marvel, Big Bang Theory, Doctor Who, The Hunger Games, James Bond, Kingdom Hearts, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, The Amazing Spider-Man, Star Trek, Star Wars, and more!

@delicatenightfury - Works, Marvel, DC, Supernatural, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Vampire Diaries, Hunger Games, Narnia, Maze Runner, and more!

@reddie-fancomic-by-slashpalooza - Works; Loose Ends (The best freaking fan-comic I've ever read <;3)

@micheleamidalajedi - Works; Mass Effect, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Marvel, CSI, Gears Of War, DC, Yellowstone, Star Wars, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, X-Men, and more!

@imagine--if - Works; DC

@witchthatwrites - Works; Uncharted, DC, Teen Wolf, Stranger Things, and more!

@buckymcbuttfacebarnes - Works; Marvel and more!

@inej-twilight-ghafa - Works; Marvel, Harry Potter, Stranger Things, Star Wars, Grishaverse, Top Gun, The Last Of Us, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and more!

@a-reader-and-a-writer - Works; Top Gun, DC, Marvel, Star Wars, Joel Kinnaman, Lewis Pullman, and more!

@bisexual-thoughtss - Works; Criminal Minds, Law And Order, Spider-Man, Scream, Ghostbusters, Harry Potter, Friends, Star Trek, and more!

@warrenwrites - Works; Stranger Things, The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel, The Sandman, and Criminal Minds

@helloheyhihowdyheya - Works; Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Top Gun

@waitimcomingtoo - Works; Tom Holland, Spider-Man, The Devil All The Time, Brad Simpson, Stranger Things, Marvel, and Sebastian Stan (I am so impressed with all their work)

@tiffdawg - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, and more!

@queridopascal - Works; Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, The Mandalorian, The Equalizer, We Can Be Heroes, House Comes With A Bird, The Bubble, and more!

@oonajaeadira - Works; The Bubble, The Mandalorian, Prospect, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent, Narcos, The Last Of Us, Bloodsucking Bastards, House Comes With A Bird, Game Of Thrones, and more!

@fuckyeahdindjarin - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Kingsman, Triple Frontier, The Bubble, and more!

@huffle-pissed - Works; Marvel, Pedro Pascal, Star Wars, Stranger Things, Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Dragon Age Inquisition

@brandyllyn - Works; Bloodsucking Bastards, Den Of Thieves, Ex Machina, The Great Wall, Hannibal, Horizon, Kingsman, Law And Order SVU, The Letter Room, Narcos, Mayans, Prospect, Star Wars, Suburbicon, and more!

@sgt-morgan - Works; The Mandalorian, Marvel, Hozier, Keanu Reeves, and more!

@tegerton - Taron Egerton, Eggsy Unwin, and Eddie The Eagle

@make-me-imagine - Works; Briderton, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, The Mandalorian, The Originals, Merlin (BBC), Star Trek, Supernatural, Sherlock (BBC), Teen Wolf, Marvel, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, Harry Potter, and more!

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@dainty-fingertips - Works; Marvel and Spider-Man

@zafirosreverie - Works; Encanto, Jurassic Park, Jurassic World, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, MCu, Rise Of The Guardians, and more!

@jonathan--majors - Works; Better Call Saul, Bullet Train, DC, Marvel, Stranger Things, Top Gun, and more!

@ardentmuse - Works; Harry Potter, Kingsman, Marvel, Game Of Thrones, and more

@classic80sand90smovieloves2 - Works; Pretty In Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Buellers Day Off, Heathers, Back To The Future, Say Anything, Can't Buy Me Love, Some Kind Of Wonderful, Dead Poets Society, School Ties, Grease, and more!

@livinglifelowkeyloki - Works; Marvel

[aussiepineapple1st]

Can I please request a Chreon x Reader in which they’re like.. in a bad situation, a dire situation. No comms to ask for help, they don’t have food and their water is running very low. Not to mention the three have bleeding injuries and no medical supplies.

One of them kinda knows the place, has an idea where they can get treated and they try to reach it. Leon and Chris silently decided on their own they were going to make everything possible for reader to survive. Even if they don’t.

Reader realizes it and confronts them. The fight is a very tame one, for the three of them are very weak and injured 🤕

You decide how it ends :P

Hope you enjoy!

All For You

Chreon x GN!Reader

Words: 2,626 Contains: Blood, Survival, Death?

"Leon!" Chris called out, panting heavily. Leon stops in his tracks as he turned around to face you and Chris, you had tripped and fallen to your hands and knees. Chris kneeling beside you with a hand resting on your back.

Panting, Leon winced as he placed his hand on his right side, looking over Chris and you from where you had all been running from. There didn't seem to be anything on your tail anymore. You were all wounded and clearly needing to rest. Walking over to Chris and you, Leon flops to the ground laying on his back. Once again wincing, this time with an audible grunt as he grabbed his right side.

"We need to rest, I'll find somewhere safe." Chris says looking down to both you and Leon. Standing to his feet slowly, he stumbled back a step as he regained his balance. His head was spinning and lungs burning from running, his breath visible in the freezing night air.

You had all been ambushed in an abandoned town, overgrown by nature in the mountains of mid-Canada. On your right currently were sheer cliffs that drop into darkness, the sound of rushing water far below. On your right was forest, the sound of the pine trees rustling and groaning in the wind. The temperature was freezing and you were well equipped for the cold, the only thing was you hadn't planned on going into hiding just to get out alive. No food, water and you had already used your medical supplies on each other.

Chris makes sure you and Leon are safe before walking ahead and into the forest to the right. Stumbling across a large hole in the side of a steep hill, he makes sure no animals were inside before nodding to himself. Noting where it is, Chris begins to trek back towards where he had left the two of you.

Upon reaching you, Leon was leaning over your body, now currently laying on your back. His left hand gently placed on your right cheek, worry in his eyes and as he spoke. "Hey.. Come on, wake up!"

Hearing footsteps Leon's first reaction was to pull out his gun from the holster on his right leg. Aiming it at whoever was approaching.

"It's just me." Chris announced, only advancing when he sees Leon lower his gun.

"(Y/N) just passed out, I can't get a response." He alerted.

Chris makes his way over and pressed his ear against your chest, you were still breathing and your heart was still racing from the activity. Scooping you into his arms he stands to his feet weakly, adjusting his hold on you as he scrunched his face from his own injury.

"I found somewhere we can hide and keep out of the weather." Chris says, moving his head in the direction he had found the cave.

Leon manages to stand on his feet, Chris moving closer to him so he was able to get his balance easier. Once Leon wasn't swaying anymore Chris leads him to the cave he had found.

Once arriving, Chris walks to the back of the cave and gently placed you down on the ground. He removes the vest from his torso and lays it under your head for cushioning, turning to Leon who had sat beside your head.

"You doing okay?" Chris asked seeing Leon holding his right side. He really wasn't looking alright. He and you had taken most of the damage.

Leon just looks over to Chris and gives a pained smile, resting his head back against the wall he was leaning against. He reaches into a pouch on his hip and pulls out a bandage, holding it out for Chris. "Here.. (Y/N) is bleeding pretty bad from the leg."

"What about you? You're losing a lot of blood too." Chris says, taking the bandage from Leon's trembling hand.

"I would much rather they make it." He says lifting up the hand holding pressure to his right side. It was covered with his own blood, looking at it made his head spin.

Chris gives Leon a worried look, his own vision wasn't the best, he had a large gash on his right hip and leg. Using the only medical supply they had left, Chris wraps the bandage around your bleeding left thigh.

"We need to keep warm, I'll go find something to make a fire." Chris says as he stands up with a grunt.

"I'll keep an eye on (Y/N), we aren't too far from the next town over. We can rest up a little and head off." Leon explains. He had been sent here before, the DSO getting wind of something but turned out to be a bust last time.

Chris gives a nod, this gave him a little more hope all three of them can make it. Leaving the cave Chris walks into the dark forest, scavenging whatever dry leaves and pine needles he could from the ground, finding sticks and other larger dead branches that had fallen or were hanging off trees.

Meanwhile Leon turns to you, sitting up as best he could he reaches his arm out, hand resting gently on your forehead. No fever, that was a good sign. He was doing his best to stay awake. Eyes darting all over the place when he sees Chris entering the safety of the cave once again.

"You really aren't looking good, Leon." He says kneeling down and starting to build a small fire.

Leon doesn't say anything, only his grunts and moans of pain ring through the silence of the cave before speaking up. "Chris.." He groaned.

This had the larger man stop putting stick and small logs in the fire, turning to face Leon who still sat at your head. His brows furrow as he stands to make his way over to Leon, a hand resting over the one on his right side. "No matter what happens to me.. We need to get (Y/N) to the hospital. If I'm slowing you down, leave me."

Chris didn't like what he was hearing, he didn't want to leave him behind to die. He did, however, agree with Leon that he was going to do everything in his power to get you to safety and a hospital. Gently giving Leon a nod, he pressed a kiss to the top of Leon's head. "And if I can't continue I want you to do the same. Okay?"

Leon just gives a nod, both of them turn to look at you. It was then and there they had expressed what the other was thinking. They wanted you safe.

-----*20 Minutes Later*-----

The crackling of the fire a couple of metres from you was keeping you warm. Chris was sitting in front of the fire, metal in his hand that looked to be an empty magazine. Your hearing starts to come back as you could hear Leon huffing and panting loudly from above your head.

Sitting up you see Leon laying on his back. You see Chris turn around with the glowing magazine case held between 2 other magazines so Chris could hold it with his cloves and an extra layer of cloth. "You're awake!" Chris says with a relieved smile as he kneels on Leon's right side, you on his left.

"Y.. Yeah, what are you doing?" Your head was still fuzzy, everything not quite making sense at the moment.

Chris doesn't answer you as he lifts Leon's shirt up. You pull yourself onto your knees and crawl to kneel beside Leon, he wasn't looking good. At the moment he had Chris' belt in his mouth and sweat dripping from his brow.

"Oh, Leon.." You say taking his left hand in both of yours, you knew exactly what Chris was doing now. Looking up to him, you give Chris a nod and press your right forearm on Leon's chest.

"Leon, stay with us, okay?" Chris demands before pressing the slightly glowing magazine end to the large wound on Leon's right side.

Leon cries out in pain, biting down on the leather in his mouth as his body moved into your legs. Trying to instinctively get away from the cause. Both you and Chris squint at the sound, but Leon was still bleeding out, he couldn't risk losing any more.

Chris had to place the magazine on the wound three times to be able to cover it completely. As he pressed it down the third time, Leon goes quiet, his eyes closed and face lax.

You remove the leather belt from his mouth as the sizzling continues, taking his face in your hands. You turn his head slightly to face you. "Leon?.. Leon!" You call out as Chris removes the magazine and throws it to the side.

The fact that he had passed out wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't lost as much blood. Chris had started panicking seeing how unresponsive Leon was. Leon was still panting heavily, this gave Chris enough confidence he would make it if they got him to the hospital.

Leon had told Chris the way if he did, in fact, pass out from cauterising his wound. "Can you walk?" Chris asked you.

"Y.. yeah I think so." You say, you were damn well going to try.

Nodding at your answer Chris scoops Leon up into his arms, leaving his tactical vest where it was under your head. He can get another one. Grunting in pain at his own bleeding wound Chris stands to his feet, waiting for you to stand before leading you to the next town over.

You follow Chris for about 10 minutes when you see him collapse to him knees, still holding Leon in his arms. "Chris!" You say as rush to kneel in front of him.

He was panting heavily, head hanging low as he struggled to keep it up. "Chris..." Leon says weakly, his eyes opening.

You and Chris look to Leon. "Chris, remember... What we agreed on."

Chris just scoffs out, he remembered, but he didn't know if he could just leave Leon here. "Agree on what?" You ask, your tone was angry.

Leon looks to you, his eyes flicking towards you before his head could think about turning. "I said for Chris to leave me if I was slowing you both down. He... You're both weak. Chris can't carry me all the way."

"What?! That's not something you can just agree on without me! We are a team!" You were angry, and they could tell just how angry you were. But with how weak all of you are, bystanders would just think you were having a light disagreement. Normally you would have probably pushed over a chair or thrown a foam cup into the bin as hard as you could.

There was silence as Chris tries to get a second wind, lifting one knee up you make your way to his side, trying to help him to his feet. He was shaky on his legs, he lifts up from the ground maybe 30 cm before falling forwards. Catching himself before squishing Leon under his chest.

"Come on you can't give up!" You say, tears in your eyes. You were all in a bad way, but they had managed to stop your bleeding first. Leon had lost a lot and Chris was still bleeding from his right side and thigh. "I can't lose you! Either of you!!" You cry, the tears now falling.

"You need to get to the hospital.." Leon says up to you, his body was too heavy to move. Otherwise he would be hugging you, or at the very least reach up to touch your face.

"I.. I'll bring help! It's just around the corner.. Right?!" You stand to your feet, limping on your leg.

Chris had rolled onto his back, his right arm still under Leon's left shoulder blade and neck. You wipe the tears from your face and don't wait for an answer, you could see the lights illuminating the sky in the distance. You had to hurry. Running as fast as your left leg would allow you, slide down the side of a steep hill and see the Hospital in the distance. Sprinting as fast as possible you burst through the front doors, falling to your hands and knees in a sweaty, bloody, panting mess.

"Help!! I Need Help!!" You call out. Clearly getting the attention of staff as they rush to your side.

"God what happened?! We need to get you to the Emergency ward." A nurse says.

You shake your head. "No.. No I need someone to save my friends! They are just up that hill! They are bleeding out!" You plea as you try standing to your feet.

"Send the Paramedics out and search for her friends." Another nurse calls to the front desk.

You stand up with help and watch as first responders rush passed you, heading in the direction you had pointed. "I need to show them. They might not find them!" You stress, pulling away from the hold of the nurses, you rush out of the hospital and after the paramedics.

"WAIT! I'll show you where they are!" One of the three people comes to help you, they knew you were in a bad way, but if they were going to try and save your friends, they agreed they would need your help.

You lead them up the steep hill and through the trees, coming to a rock you had mentally remembered as a landmark, turning right from it. As you all hurried over the hill, they see the bodies of two men laying on their backs. Once you see they had spotted them your legs give out on you. The third of the first responders staying with you as they call for a vehicle to come as close to their location as possible.

Everything had started to become a blur, you could see from where you were both paramedics were performing CPR on both Leon and Chris. You choke out sobs as you fall forwards into the leaves, dirt and pine needles littering the ground. You hear sirens and then everything goes black.

-----*Unknown Amount of Time*-----

Your eyes flutter open, oxygen flowing into your nose as you see the white walls of a hospital room. Sitting in a chair in the corner of the room was a familiar figure. They way she was sitting you didn't have to wait for your eyes to focus before speaking. "Hunnigan?" Your voice was horse, it felt dry.

Her head lifts up and she seemed relieved, standing up she walks over to sit on the edge of your bed. "Hey there, kiddo." She said with a gentle tone.

You look around, hoping to see Leon and/or Chris somewhere in the room. "Where are they?" You asked with panic in your voice.

Hunnigan takes off her glasses, having been reading a book. "First of all you have been here for a week." She explains. "They kept you in an MIC to let your body heal properly."

"I don't care about me, Hunnigan.. Tell me. Where is Leon and Chris?" You demand.

She exhales and turns away from you, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye before it slips down her cheek. "Leon was gone before they got to him. They couldn't bring him back, and Chris passed away in his own coma last night. I'm sorry."

As soon as you saw her wipe away a tear you had started to cry, it was only until she had said she was sorry when you burst into tears. too weak to cover your mouth to muffle yourself, Hunnigan placed a hand on your shoulder, now letting herself mourn with you.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[admirelight]

My take on James and my cannon Shepard's interaction 7 years after the Reaper war, may or may not write more:

James Vega, five years into being N7 with two newbies, goes to a nowhere planet. The ship, modeled after the original Normandy, touched down, releasing the three crewmen. James, Julia Thacker, and Skipper Shin marched through the hot sandy desert. 

"Sir, what are we looking for here?” Julia speaks up, tired and thirsty after hours of trekking.

“Seriously, commander. What is even out here?” Skipper chimed in. 

James smiles at his impatient squadmates. “It's a pick up. Just be patient,” he says to them, as much as to himself, pushing himself to stay in the lead. His heart was beating fast. He wasn't sure if it was excitement, nervousness, or exhaustion. He looked to the mountain formations just another few miles, he figured. 

The two young adults behind him bantered quietly. Insults, questions, and nonsense comments as they traveled forward. The sun was unrelenting, the heat was sweltering, and the soft sand made each step that much harder. James looked at his map. Just past this hill, there should be water and what they came for.  James holds up his arm, signaling silence as he climbs up a hill. He spotted the camp site near the cliff the group was traveling towards. 

James knew it. Recent reports about a Batarian slave ship that was found with colonist survivors in the area of this star system, those left alive pointed to this planet where a ship came blazing in from. James sent probes to find remote water sources near towns and finally asked the locals about human activity. It took a year of searching on Hackett's request, in between his smaller missions, but James finally found what he was looking for. 

A camping spot on hard ground, near fresh water. The group hit the ground, Skipper and Julia next to each other and James five feet from them. They laid in wait and spied on the area, just peering over the dusty hill. James looked through his scope. A long gone fire and a seemingly empty tent. 

 *click* He heard the loaded gun, just  behind them. His two soldiers jumped out of their skin. James groans in annoyance. The newbies turn to shoot, only to be met with the crushing weight of the assailant's biotics before they can pull the trigger. 

"Aye! Lola," James sighs, getting up from the ground, facing the armor covered woman.  "Can't ever get a jump on you, can I?" He looks at his squad mates, then back at the woman, raising his eyebrow. She released the soldiers, as James silently ordered them to relax.  Julia scrunched her face in confusion as Skipper looked terrified. 

"What do you want, Vega?" The armor clad woman demands. "Tell Liara that she can come visit if she stops telling you people where I'm at." 

The two newbies look at each other. “Who is Lola or Liara?”Juila mouths to one Skipper. He shrugs, and they stay in their place waiting for James to give orders. Their commanding officer  clasped his heart in feigned pain.

 "You hurt me, Lola. I always find you by myself. Finding someone as..." His eyes travel up and down the woman's figure, "interesting as you is too easy." He finishes with a purr. The squad gags at their commander's terrible attempts at flirting but straightens out as the woman marches up to him. Her gun pointed at James. 

"Great," Skipper whispered, "I knew his flirting would get us killed."  The woman chuckles. 

"Mm, Vega." She approached James, getting into his personal space. She uses the weapon to reach out to James’s face. Tracing his jaw, he swallows hard. Julia notices his face is bright red. “Careful, last I checked. You can give it.” Her free hand traces down his neck and to his chest. The woman leaned into his ear as she lifted the visor of the helmet “but you can't take it, por Dios,” She whispers.  

“I, uh…I… That’s not...” The N7 commander stood as stiff as a board. His soldiers were stunned by his lack of reply.

The woman steps back, laughing hard, as she puts her gun away. “I miss yanking your chain, James!” She playfully punched his shoulder, and he chuckled back. Embarrassment was written all over his face as he rubbed the back of his head. 

The woman finally removed her helmet. Her long red hair fell to the middle of her back, her sharp green eyes dazzled with friendliness towards James. Her face scarred, battle weathered, but holds a degree of dangerous beauty.  

“No fucking way,” Julia gasps. Skipper has no clue what is happening. Shepard rolled her eyes.

“Now, what do you want? What shit did you step in this time, Vega.” She huffed, crossing her arms. 

James straightens out. “Yes, ma'am, Hackett wishes to speak with you.”

“Fuck him.” She walks past him, towards her campsite. 

“Lola…” James called after the red-head. “Shepard, please. Just hear him out. This is important!” he chased. Skipper and Julia are left shocked in the sand, as the two older war vets argue. Julia crawls closer to her crew mate. 

“Why is he calling Commander Shepard, Lola?” she asks. 

“Why were they flirting?” he asked back. Their questioning is stopped by a gasp from James as he took a nasty right hook from Shepard. They scrambled up, guns drawn and focused on Shepard. Her green eyes flickered to them. She greeted the two with a chilling smile.

“James, I'm almost 40, and you need the new kids to save your ass?” She questioned him. “N7 is just a title they hand out to anyone, huh?” the woman taunted. 

He glared at her, then at the soldiers. “Back down.” He hissed.  “Why do you make me fight you every time I need your help, Shepard.” He questioned, returning to his fighting stance. He takes two jabs at her mid area. Both blocked, then a swing to her face. She barely sidestepped the attack. Breathing heavy. 

“I'm hoping you'll catch the hint that I'm done saving lives.” She snorts, taking a chance to return his blows. She jabbed, and he weaved.

“You took out a Batarian slave vessel alone, Jane!” He busts out in anger, swinging hard to her left, nailing her in the gut. 

They are both exhausted, huffing hard. “Lola, remember that day after Mars.” He lays on the hard ground where they were just sparring. “Why kick my ass then, just to pull the same shit now?” His arm covers his face, trying to protect it from the blazing sun and hide his frustration. Shepard, holding her gut, walked into her tent, coming back out with a bottle of alcohol and juggling three bottles of water. 

“What do you need help with?” Shepard‘s voice softened. She sat next to her old comrade. Tossing two waters back at Julia and Skipper, who weren't sure what to do, they turned around and surveyed the vast empty desert.  

“Dead reaper ship just outside of the galaxy system. We lost people on it a year ago, sent more to get the bodies, and they returned indoctrinated.” James sat up. 

“Did they take any precautions?” Shepard popped up the whiskey, started on her bottle. 

“It was dead, Shepard”

“Why did I write hundreds of hours of reports if no one was going to read them!” She huffed, sipping the alcohol like it was water and looked over to Julia and Skipper. “They seem wet behind the ears. Are we taking them with us?”  

“Hey,” James called to his team and waved the young soldiers over. “This is Lieutenant Thacker and Lieutenant Shin.” He points them out to Shepard. 

“This, kids, is the great Commander Jane Shepard.  My Lola,” he smiled at her. She rolled her eyes. 

“Sorry. I guess I did train this idiot…poorly. I'm no commander, not anymore. Just Shepard. And no.” She sharpened her gaze, “We aren't together. He likes teasing, all bark, no bite.” She takes the last swig of her bottle. “He's just my poolboy.”

“Julia Thacker!” Julia was quick to reach out to the sitting Shepard. “I've read all about you. You are the whole reason I've joined the Alliance,” She puffs out excitedly. Shepard scoffs, ignoring the girl’s hand. 

“Don't put that on me, kid.” She retorts.

Julia looks at James, confused. 

“Don't scare them off or make them cry, Lola.” James rubbed the bridge of his nose “I don't want to do this as a duo again. Besides the paperwork…”

Shepard grins and leans towards Julia. Her bright green eyes darken as they stare the girl down from under heavy lids. “Have you seen your benefits package? I died, came back, saved the galaxy, and I still have to work.” Julia shuddered from the blank, empty look that Shepard gave her. 

Skipper laughed, “Thacker will believe anything.” Everyone paused. 

“Oh, I like this guy,” Shepard smiles. “Be sure he has an extra pair of pants on this mission. He'll be the first to piss them.”

He looks at them all confused, Julia elbows Skipper. 

“So you're coming?” James let his excitement slip through.  

“Yeah, why the hell not. Should nip this in the bud before another Seran situation happens, but..” she points at James' chest, “after this, I'm declaring you the Reaper expert, and disappearing!” James nodded, saluting the woman. “Should have stayed with Liara…” Shepard mumbled. 

“I have one rule though, Shepard. No drinking, no drugs. Need you clear for this mission.” James stood up, he was serious. 

“Now that's a commanding officer,” Shepard grinned at Vega. “Fair enough, I'll do my best to only drink before bedtime.” She got up from the dirt, dusting herself off. She took the empty bottle and tossed it into a bag. “Bring that ship around when you're ready, Commander.” 

His heart skipped a beat. Shepard was willing to report to him, and for the first time, she used his title.