#brick the bounty hunter

[toacody]

The Mandalorian

"This is the Way."

Source

Creator: ToaLikus

[tiredassmage]

they threaten to eat each other for breakfast.

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life. 

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are. 

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage. 

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you. 

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him. 

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be. 

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important. 

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was. 

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this. 

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice. 

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey. 

You almost wished it had torn you apart then. 

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion. 

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in. 

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close. 

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight. 

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it. 

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth. 

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought. 

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck. 

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?” 

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name. 

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty. 

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too. 

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened. 

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes. 

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone. 

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out. 

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words. 

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark. 

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred. 

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame. 

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.” 

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips. 

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched. 

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death. 

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features. 

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered. 

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body. 

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside. 

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.” 

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately. 

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again. 

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.”  Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this. 

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself. 

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand. 

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours. 

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something. 

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like. 

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you. 

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified. 

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it. 

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it. 

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it. 

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs. 

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you. 

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret. 

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again. 

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair. 

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. 

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing. 

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans. 

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat. 

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own. 

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring. 

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it. 

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles. 

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit. 

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

 “You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him. 

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke. 

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer. 

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now. 

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck. 

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body. 

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. 

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction. 

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist. 

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand. 

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny. 

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin. 

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back. 

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry. 

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier. 

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

[shotmrmiller]

pretend boyfriend but it's in a time where roads are nothing more than muddy tracks, making travel slow and cumbersome. the town's buildings are a mix of weathered wood and crumbling brick, faded paint peeling off their facades. wanted posters, yellow and tattered, are plastered on every available surface, faces of outlaws and fugitives who roam the countryside depicted in greyish ink.

the townsfolk go about their lives with a wary eye, and you go about yours with a sharp one, in search of opportunity: a cowboy too drunk off his wits to know his right from his left. the humble borough of blackthorn doesn't need any more working girls, no more ladies with hair down to their corseted waists beautifying the arms of both bounty hunters and farm hands alike.

that's fine, you reckon. you've always had a knack for survival. your deft fingers have made a living out of slipping into pockets and relieving men of their hard earned coin pouches when they lose themselves in drink and laughter. its not an easier life than that of the ladies in the saloon but it's yours, and you've learned to navigate it with equal cunning and charm.

but as people say, anything that can go wrong, will and tonight nothing seems to go right for you. just as you'd been slipping the stolen bills from your latest mark in between the swell of your breasts, he stirs from his drunken sleep, bedsheet tangled in his spurs as he struggles to rise onto unsteady feet. his movements are sluggish, muddy brown eyes blinking against the dim light of the quaint room.

you don't wait for him to ask any inane questions, you know when you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. you run out the door on bare feet, fisting the rough fabric of your dress to lift it above your ankles as you barrel down the stairs.

your shoulders ache from bumping into patrons as you try to quickly weave your way toward the door, your breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. the saloon is a blur or faces and noise, the jaunty tune coming from the piano as fast paced as the galloping of your heart.

just as you reach the swinging doors, you glance outside through the dusty window panes and see someone right across the street in the patio of the drugstore.

the star on his chest gleaming even in the flickering light of the shop is distinctive. your heart sinks like a stone dropped into a well, the weight of the situation leaden over your puffed shoulders.

but you haven't made it this far while skirting around law and order without a sharp mind. your thoughts swirl in your mind as you run through options. a horse loosely tied to the hitching post out front, sleeping roll behind the saddle. you could take it but risk getting roped off by someone. slipping out the windows would draw too much attention. using the back door near the kitchen would have the owner on your arse.

shit. shit-

then you spot him. sitting alone at a table is a hulking, beast of a man. (his broad shoulders and burly frame makes him resemble more mountain than man tbh.) a small shot glass rests on the scratched surface before him, the only delicate item in his vicinity. the wide-brimmed hat he wears casts a shadow over his face but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. maybe that's why even the other patrons have given him a wide berth. (the knotted scar that runs from the corner of his cheek pulling his lips into a permanent, twisted sneer makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.)

desperation fuels your next move.

your hand trembles when you place it on the the exposed skin of his forearm that's covered in a fine layer of grime, as does your voice when you speak.

"hey-" you don't get to finish your sentence, feeling the words crumble into ash on your tongue when you realize you're out of time. the drunken idiot from upstairs is storming straight towards you, his nostrils flared, white etched on his knuckles. panic surges through you and so you move.

coming to stand behind the seated stranger, your arms cradle his large head, clammy palms flat on the sweat stained fabric of his union shirt. his body tenses under your touch, muscles cooling like a spring, but you muster all the bravado you can.

"if ya got a problem with me," your voice is steady despite the fear that's settled at the base of your spine, "take it up with my husband."

the drunk comes to an abrupt halt, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion, uncertainty, as he glances between you and the human(?) shield you're clinging to.

the room has fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. they watch with bated breaths, even the bartender had paused mid-polish, his hand frozen on the glass.

the man wavers, his resolve crumbling like freshly tilled dirt before you. but the final nail in the coffin is when your 'husband' grabs onto your arm and leads you to sit onto his lap, both your legs fitting on top of his one, feeling the tarnished buckle of his leather belt even through the couple of layers of your dress on your arsecheek, his arm cinching tightly around your waist.

his skin feels rough, scarred, yet warm, beneath your hand. (embarrassing that this surprises you.)

you can feel his voice vibrate from his chest and sink into your bones when he aids you in this mess you've created. "ya 'eard m'wife. piss off 'fore i make you."

his mouth twists into an ugly line but concedes defeat, telling your 'husband' to "keep his wh-wife on a tighter leash unless she's keen on ending up on a missing poster alongside the wanted ones."

when you turn in his lap to look outside the window, watching the drunk unsteadily get on his horse and leave, you give the man you're on a muted thanks and move to get up only-

the arm around your waist feels more like an iron band. you're can't get up. you can't leave. your feet don't even touch the wooden floorboards of the saloon. you turn your wide eyes toward him, lips parted in surprise.

he doesn't seem as surprised as you.

"wha'? thought you could jus' up and go 'bout your way?"

you open your mouth wider, to scream maybe, you aren't sure but he cuts you off with a sharp suck of his teeth.

"make trouble and there will be trouble. i'll drag your pretty arse to the sheriffs office by the hair."

the realization of what he is keeps you utterly frozen in place, any fight you'd had bleeding out of you.

a bloody bounty hunter. no wonder everyone had kept their distance.

"i'm gonna be finishin' this bottle and you'll be a good wife and draw me a bath in our hotel room."

(he plucks the dirty money from where you'd kept it and tosses it on the bar top, carrying you straight to where he'd hitched his horse and plops you in front, your back to his barrel of a chest. "youll bathe with me, gotta have you clean for our consummation.")

[lustlovehart]

Hard Stoned Gallery Dance

A/n: This was made like monthhsss ago, so I’m posting it as forgiveness for the lack of work i’ve been doing.

Pairing: [ Monster!Twst ] Malleus Draconia x Reader

Summary: Dancing is a beautiful past time, yet such a pretty act is ruined, when Malleus decides to let his affections for you run rampant. (Wc: 1.9k)

Warnings: Kissing & Licking, Murder/Death of Minor Characters (Not explicit), Possessive traits, Clinginess bordering obsession, a little blood, Biting/Marking

Your head leans itself on the rough surface of the stone wall. You’ve finished your objective for the day, so giving yourself this break is well deserved, ten minutes free of Crowley’s nagging is still freedom despite how it sounds. Your eyes can’t help but look up at the pretty blue sky, it stings to look at but you don’t mind the pain, seeing something so clear is worth it.

That cloud looks like a cat.

…

The taste of indulgence is quickly stripped out your grasp when the familiar sound of dragging stone resonates through the air, grating to your ears.

“Child of hunters, what may you be doing here?” His rock-hard face interrupts your view of the sky, green solid eyes look down on you as he casts a shadow on your visage.

Despite his body being made of pure stone, his eyes give a faint green glow, as if a bioluminescent moss grew there. His hair, his wings, and even his tail freely flowed as if he were just a regular Dragon hybrid. But alas, he is some sort of statue— Oh no not a statue, in his words a gargoyle.

You forgot about the difference one time and in turn, he gave you a 3-hour lecture on the difference between a grotesque and other gargoyles. Never again…

“I’m trying to hide from my boss.”

“Shall I be rid of him for you?” His mouth forms a little o as a small puff of a green flame releases from him.

“That would be a bad idea, I’d lose my source of income.” He quirks an eyebrow up at this., to be fair, you don’t think he has any clue what a “payday” is.

Despite his confusion, he lifts from his bowing form, a hand reaching out towards you in all its mossy glory. You’ve known him long enough to know what he wants.

A dance.

You don’t try to hide your exasperation as you take his invitation, albeit a bit slow. His stone body quickly pulls you up and into him. With how much tamer his form is compared to other beasts you know, it’s hard to remember that he’s part dragon, and even worse is part of the only few monsters who know magic.

So as of right now, this marks your third time dancing with one of the worst monstrosities currently on the bounty list. No maybe not one of the worst… From what you remember from Crowley’s ramblings (which isn’t much since you tune him out when possible) he’s probably the most dangerous.

You get the basic idea, but you’ve never truly seen for yourself why he’s considered so terrible. Is he not just a glorified water spout? Compared to a Kraken and an Incubus, surely his damage isn’t so grand to be warranted as the biggest beast to hunt.

“You’ll always be welcomed in my castle, you would not be short of accommodations either.” his hand rests upon your waist, pulling you closer than need be. His invasion of personal space is akin to a parasite leeching off its host, but you let him feed of you. Whether it’s from fear or a bond, you’re not decided.

Your movements are sluggish at best, but you can still remember the basic steps in the dance, your foot sloppily setting itself down where it should be, the occasional step on stone happening once or twice though.

“Considering the current state it’s in… is that even safe for me to walk in…? It looks like one good shout and the bricks holding the place together will crumble apart…”

“That is just the disguise we give it, as to not alert others of our presence. For you though, I’m willing to make it stand out if it makes you happy.” The hand lying on your waist retracts itself as he takes his other clawed limb and twirls you around, falling back into position when the spin is done.

“… I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.” You know he’s not lying about that. You can distantly recall when a certain mystery monster had told you the tale of a longing dragon who perched himself at the opening of his window to wait for a certain hunter's return.

“Yes, he was so determined to be the first one to greet you, why he even stayed sat at the window for 5 months. It was quite endearing hehe.”

“Doesn’t it take hundreds of years for you to erode? Maybe it’ll take me 50 years to decide, by then I’ll be old and grey and you’ll be perfectly fine.” You take a step forward before the gargoyle's grip on your body tightens significantly, shrieking when he suddenly dips you down unprepared.

His freed hand takes your other arm and lifts it up to rest on his shoulder. Green sparkles are faintly flying around his lips as he slowly leans into the soft skin on your arm. His face leans in and presses chaste kisses on your limb, the gentle texture of his mouth catching you off guard as it tickles your body. Now you get it, he must’ve cast a spell to temporarily soften his lips.

He had attempted to kiss you once without taking this precaution, in turn, you gave him a face filled with discomfort at the stone texture that kept peppering you.

You can still remember the hurt face he had on when he saw your dislike towards his affections.

On his ninth kiss, his forked tongue peeks out from his mouth, licking a stripe up your skin. He finally lifts you up after the assault on your arm, his face only a few inches away from your own. It would’ve been quite the romantic atmosphere, had your nose not catch a sharp smell, and a horrible wretched one at that.

“You could be on your last breath and I’d still wait for an answer. But I hope that won’t happen.”

“Who knows, I work a dangerous job.” what is it?

The both of you twirl in unison despite the lack of music, your bodies in tandem as they move to just the sound of your surroundings. Though, your body is a little more sluggish than his own.

That stench… Is too familiar.

Eventually, your last steps fade out as you stop in your tracks.

“Is something wrong dear hunter?” Your grip on his shoulder fastens, if he was human you’re sure you would’ve broken his shoulder.

“What did you do?”

A smile is lit on his lips, his head tilting to the side, giving you such an innocent look, like he did nothing wrong.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“The smell… Iron… This whole time I thought it was just the smell of the forest. But…” You swiftly pull a dagger out from your side, throwing it past his shoulder, the tip of the steel piercing into what sounded like wood.

He doesn’t turn back, only continuing to smile at you, as if you’re the only existing thing here, or more accurately, the only thing he cares about.

The bark of the trunk splits in half, falling to the ground, revealing the source of the stench. The top of the tree isn’t green, it’s red and brown.

4 pairs of hands stick from the leaves.

“You… What did you do Malleus–?!“ he’s quick to twirl you again, his grip on you tighter than it’s ever been. Despite your protests, he continues dancing as if you hadn’t seen anything.

You’re suddenly stricken with the memory of your first meeting with the beast, blood coating his mouth when he looked at you, pure admiration when he had finally met the muse everyone spoke so dearly of.

“Malleus, you—!“

“Tell me, dear human, was it not you who spared me?” He dips you down. “Was it not you who saw a beaten beast and allowed him to live?” He lifts you up. “Even as you walked away with a piece of stone you let go of one who’s rendered thousands over the years,” he pulls you in. “Dead” every action with your body is harsh, but not enough to hurt you, never enough to hurt you.

Because why would he ever wish to harm you?

He’d much rather smother you in affection, even when you’re exerting all your energy to kill him as he hugs you.

“It’s because you…”

“Looked so human?” He continues to keep you close, impossibly so, your skin melting into his, not from fawness, but fear.

“How did you know-“

“You’ve spared so many of us because we made you feel something in the moment,” he must be referring to everyone else… The look you gave him is dazed, caught up in the thought of every other monster you let get away. His fingers cage your chin in between them. “But don’t forget what we are.” Sparkles fly, temporarily blinding you.

When you open your vision, you’re greeted by the sight of Malleus, with the appearance of what he looked like if he was human, or at least similar to a human.

His skin isn’t rough and solid, his breaths are warm, and his hair is soft and pretty rather than a soft moss.

His eyes are a nice green, a pretty green. A color you would’ve enjoyed more had he been a human. Such a lively color shouldn’t be backdropped by crimson, yet, it is.

Behind him, several other trees collapse on themself, revealing the other tops, the same as the tree you had just seen. Views of stray limbs and vaguely familiar faces of hunters invade your mind, panic setting as you finally realize a question you should’ve asked long ago…

Why was Malleus so far from his castle?

Before you can react, your ears hear a faint whisper, eyes going heavy as little pings of thorns claw at your shoes. The last thing you see and feel, is his face leaning towards you, his finger loosening itself from your chin.

In a blink of an eye, he’s no longer the human you spared, but the monster you let escape back into the wild.

The fiendish of smiles is graced on his lips. Not because of evil, but because his smile, is so love stricken.

All because of you.

“Seems the little birdy fled the nest without permission.” Your eyes slowly flutter open, the familiar figure of a man bowing on top of you. “Now, I’ll forgive you as we weren’t expecting such a beast to appear-“

He’s immediately cut off in his sentence when a searing pain cuts through his chin.

“Augh—! How could you kick me after I spent precious time searching for you!“

“You’re the reason I’m here in the first place…!“

“I didn’t do anything!“ Despite your annoyance towards Crowley and all he stands for in your life, you can’t deny if someone had seen this scene play out in front of them, they would assume you two to be a father and his bickering child.

You attempt to stand to your full height, faltering at the pings of pain in your ankle. You suck in a breath, looking down as you nurse hurt skin.

There are briar thorns wrapped around your leg, a single rose adorning the stems, and a gentle green hue that contrasts the pure black of the floral life.

“Oh my, what were you doing last night?”

“… Night?”

“You’ve been gone for 36 hours my birdie.”

You don’t feel any different… Save for the prickle of thorns and fresh bite on your arm.

… Fresh bite?

Despite the indent, it doesn’t hurt, it’s like, he left it there as a reminder of your failures, at least to you. It could very well be his way of staking his claim on your heart.

“It’s a shame you didn’t get him when you could’ve, with your connections, you could’ve spared us a huge loss today…” you’re cruelly reminded of the people that lay to waste hidden in the trees. “We should let today serve as a reminder of what you must do.”

Crowley doesn’t look happy at the sight of so many employees who failed their jobs, yet he doesn’t look grieved either.

You… Truly, you wish you weren’t so softhearted during your missions. Maybe then, this could’ve all been avoided.

A/n: Like I said, this piece was from so long a goo, so i’m so sorry if the plot isn’t to anyone liking, but if it is, i’m happy you enjoyed it!!

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Running a little pâtisserie is quaint, and homey, and should not in any way get you involved with anything shady. Let alone the strange bounty hunter who prowls through your little town like the Grim Reaper himself. And yet here you are, teaching this literal murderer how to use a napkin.

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Also apologies in advance to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a murderer at your window, and you weren’t really sure what to do about it.

Well, maybe not actually a murderer. Bounty Hunters tended not to wind up in prison after dragging back the desecrated remains of their latest quarry. But still. You recognized the black plume tucked slickly into his wide-brimmed, purple, hat, and the pale, bright, bob of his hair was nearly luminescent in the dark. He was certainly the least covert assassin you’d ever seen, and you had seen him. It was hard not to. Traipsing through town to deposit every wayward criminal, every long-lost villain, at the doorstep of who’d ever called for him.

‘Rook Hunt’ you thought his name was, or at least, that’s what the old woman in the market would call him before crossing herself and spitting in the dirt. It was all a bit on the nose in your humble opinion, especially with that strange, twisting, ebony, bow of his strung across his back. ‘Hunter’ indeed. But it’s not like you’ve ever done anything to warrant winding up in one of those dripping burlap sacks of his, so you’d let the dude have his drama. It was probably good advertisement. And it’s not like the guy had ever bothered you before.

You thought that reassurance on repeat as you watched said not-quite-a-murderer stare through the front window of your little bakery, as if your rising dough had been kneaded with the secrets of the known universe. But he didn’t do anything—just kept watching with rapt attention as you brushed egg wash over your pie crusts and swapped trays in and out of the ancient, brick, oven.  

In all honesty, he was far from the strangest thing that’d been plastered to your window in the early AM, and it wasn’t like he was licking the glass or anything. So you let it slide.

One of the custard tarts you pulled from the oven had cracked across the top. Nothing out of the ordinary—there was always at least one dud in a batch. Normally you saved the rejects for Ace or Deuce to gobble up (depending on whoever managed to pop by first), but this one you set aside onto a little tea plate. You topped it with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a spoonful of the blackberries you’d left sitting in sugar overnight. Then you plucked up a spare napkin and made your way out from behind the counter.

When you opened the door to your little bakery, the tingling overhead bell warmed your unwanted guest’s expression in a way that it most certainly should not have—lighting the whole of him with this sort of wide-eyed, innocent, joy that belonged nowhere on the face of someone you’d watched cart literal corpses into town.

“Mon pâtissier!” he chirped. “What a fine morning it is, no?”

The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. You could still hear the drone of crickets and toads in the distance, basking in the humid darkness of the night.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “We’re not open for,” you glanced at the moon, still full in the sky, “at least four more hours. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Oh—non, non, non,” Rook waved you off. “I just wanted to watch!”

“…Watch?” you repeated.

“It’s quite the fascinating process!” he absolutely beamed. “Taking such basic, individual, components and turning them into something so spectacularly sweet and heartwarming! Quelle inventivité! I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about your marvelous menu!”

‘From who?’ you wanted to ask, because you’d never heard of anyone being able to hold a conversation with this man for more than a stuttered sentence at a time, let alone for long enough to go about giving dessert recommendations. But there was a streak of red blood across his cheek that still looked fresh enough to not even have gone tacky yet, and now that you looked closer, his dark gloves were perhaps a shade too dark to not have been, well…

You sighed and reminded yourself once again that is was absolutely not your business, before handing him the napkin.

He stared at it with that same sort of rapt fascination that had you wondering if this man had ever actually interacted with proper civilization in his entire life.

“Wipe your hands,” you demanded with a huff, and he dutifully scrubbed at his stained fingers. Once he was clean enough that he was at least no longer dripping unmentionables all along your windowsill, you held out the little saucer for him to take.

“Pour moi?” he muttered, looking a bit starstruck.

“If you’re going to say all those nice things about my food, you may as well get to try what you’re complimenting,” you shrugged, and that same eager enthusiasm lit his face all over again. “And it will be a nice treat to take home with you,” you emphasized, with all the intonation of a cheery ‘please get the fuck out before you scare away all my customers for the day.’

But instead of turning and meandering off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of, he just kept staring at the little treat like he had no idea what to do with it.

“It’s a tart,” you said blandly, fighting the furrow in your brow.

Rook repeated ‘a tart’ under his breath like it was some kind of ancient, forbidden, enchantment, and not like it was literally scrawled into the little menu sign at your door at least a dozen times over.

The Bounty Hunter peered at the little custard treat like you’d handed him a treasure beyond measure. After a moment of carefully poking at the browned crust like it wasn’t literally meant to break apart beneath one’s fingers, he looked back over at you with eyes that were far, far, too green. He lifted the tart up like he meant to give it back to you.

“I ought to offer you la première bouchée,” he smiled.

You blinked, taken aback, and pushed the plate back into his hands. “That’s not how free samples work.”

Rook tossed his head back with a bout of boisterous laughter that should have been loud enough to wake everyone on the block. You glanced around nervously, hoping no one was about to come running out to make noise complaints.

“Ahh~ But how else will I know the best manner in which to savor such a treat?”

“You eat it,” you gaped. And then, slowly, because you weren’t even sure you were dealing with a functional human being anymore. “With your teeth.”

The Bounty Hunter, with his blood smeared cheeks and even bloodier clothes, put all those shiny, pearly whites of his on display in a merry grin. He swept forward in a grand bow that had the feather in his hat bobbing about in a way that reminded you far too much of a wagging tail.

“Of course!” he chirped. “In my home you said, yes?”

Please, you wanted to groan. Go there. Leave.

“Ideally,” you said instead, and Rook ducked his head until that purple hat of his had cast the whole of his face into shadow. He reached up to tap two fingers against the wide brim and tip it forward.

“Merci, merci!” he trilled. “Then I will endeavor to consume this marvelous spécialité humaine in the proper fashion. A very good morning to you then, cher pâtissier!”

He straightened with a merry little hum and began making his way back down the cobblestone road. In the soft light of the setting moon, his footsteps left odd prints in their wake—inky, black, dripping things that had faded entirely by the time you were able to focus enough to get a proper look at them, leaving you wondering if they’d really just been nothing but a trick of the night.

Well, that was fucking weird,you frowned, shaking the fuzz from your head. You slipped back inside and the door jingled pleasantly as it slammed behind you. But then again, when wasn’t customer service a trip? These people were all ridiculous.

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Bright and early the next morning, you were waiting for Deuce to arrive with his delivery of a fresh crate of eggs. It was ungodly early, as it always was. But at least there was no hunter at your window this time around—

There was a bang and a screech, and then an unfortunate sort of cracking-squishing-yucky noise that sounded an awful lot like a couple dozen eggs meeting their doom. You frowned and tucked your rag into the ribbons of your apron and ducked out from the backroom with a sigh. Deuce was at the door. Or, well, Deuce was on the ground in front of your door. With the shattered, yolk, remnants of your shipment scattered all around him.

“I’m not paying for that,” you huffed irritably, and your friend looked up with a squawk.

He looked like he was trying to say something, but his face just kept flashing back and forth between deathly pale and a miserable sort of mottled red.

“I—! You—! And he—!”

“Use your words, Spade,” you sighed.

“I do believe he’s trying his best, cher pâtissier!”

You froze, and turned in near-slow-motion to see a beaming Bounty Hunter crouched at one of the little painted benches lined up neatly along your storefront. Not on one, like a normal person. But beside one. On the ground. There was no blood on him today. None that was very obviously dripping down his face at the very least. He didn’t seem like he’d come bearing any ill will, but your Chicken Dealer was still splayed out on the ground—nearly convulsing—so that wasn’t a great sign either.

“What’s going on out here?” you demanded, hands at your hips.

“I do believe Monsieur Spade had himself a bit of a fright,” Rook beamed, and then turned towards your very gaunt looking friend with a soft tut-tut noise that for all its amiability didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “You really ought to work on your balance, hmm? Alas, all these petits oeufs have gone to waste.”

“What?!” Deuce immediately bristled, on the defensive. “If you hadn’t scared me, then none of these chicks would have had to die so tragically in the first place!”

“For the last time,” you sighed, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Unfertilized farm eggs are not baby chicks.”

“But Ace said—”

“Enough! With what Ace said!” you snapped, exhaustion and a sore lack of tea, or coffee, or anything wearing away at your already fragile sanity. “Ace would sell you snake oil and cry to your face about you underpaying for it!”

“Oh?” Rook chirped, unfolding himself from his crouch to stand at his full height. He wasn’t particularly gangly or long limbed—not even especially tall, all things considered. But there was something about him that made him loom. From the sharp cut of his purple robes to the harsh, starched, white of his tight collar. He was neat, composed. And yet… very much not civilized. “Is this not a person who wishes you well, cher pâtissier?”

You frowned, something odd tugging at a sixth sense of yours. Just… a little something on the periphery of your nerves, singing that the words you chose now would mean a lot more than they ought to.

You hummed, low in your throat, and considered.

“Ace is himself,” you said finally, “but he’s a friend nonetheless.”

“Magnifique!” Rook beamed and clapped his hands together with a near lovelorn sigh, all at once perfectly pleasant and soft. “It is such a very good thing to have friends!”

“…Is that what you are?” Deuce asked, enough of that enraged spunk fading away to leave him properly cautious once more. His blue eyes flickered pointedly from the bounty hunter, to you, and back. “A friend?”

You sighed and turned to retreat back into your little shop without a word. Deuce scrambled to his feet to follow you in hesitantly, still dripping with the remnants of too many eggs. You shot him a look, and he immediately darted over to the mop and bucket you kept propped up in the corner. Rook stood in the doorway, nearly just a blur of bruised shadow against the backdrop of the pre-dawn darkness, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. After a long moment of terse silence, he stepped beyond the threshold with a little hum. He wiped his feet pointedly on your little welcome mat, and then turned to stand at the counter. He fished around in the pockets of his cloak for a moment before withdrawing a strange little flower. He placed it on the countertop with a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his green eyes.

You stepped forward to observe it curiously, and your brows shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a flower at all. What had looked like the folded arch of soft petals was actually a dainty pair of ­wings. It was a tiny butterfly—caught in a perpetual sort of stillness. It was bright, and colorful, and so carefully preserved that even when you trailed a flour-coated finger along the thin membranes of its wings, it stayed clean and crisp.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Payment, of course!” Rook smiled. “For the lovely treat you gifted me the other day.”

You sighed, not at all in the mood to discuss the lack of viable conversion rates between copper coins and bugs.

So instead you settled on huffing, “Free samples are free. It’s in the name.”

Rook just kept on smiling, unbothered. Deuce knocked into some set of drawers or other—or maybe the coatrack. Who knew—and you shot him an irritable little scowl. The guy was like a bull in a china shop on the best of days, let alone when he was trying to multitask, and be sneaky about it all the while. The bounty hunter’s grin twitched a bit at the corners, like the idea of your blue-haired friend trying to stealthily keep a watch on him was just the funniest thing.

You glanced back down at the little, frozen, butterfly. It really was very pretty, even if it was a little odd.

When you ducked back behind the counter, you unearthed a blueberry muffin from one of many stacks of trays there. It was little lopsided, and maybe there were a few too many bits of fruit in it. Surely no one would have wanted it anyways.

You plopped it on the countertop, and both Rook’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead. When he made no move to take it, you pushed the confection closer. The wrapper slid along the counter in a heavy, sticky, way. You’d have to remember to wipe it down again after. The Hunter reached out carefully to pluck the treat up between his fingers. He squished it delicately, in a similarly cautious way as to how you’d stroked the little butterfly.

“Is this also for eating at home?” he asked, observing the offering with a wide, wonderous, expression.

“Yes,” you said, just in time for Deuce to nearly annihilate your trash bin. “Please enjoy it.” Please get out. You’re distracting my maid.

Rook Hunt dipped into another of those ridiculous, bobbing, bows and pinched the brim of his hat between his fingers.

“Your generosity continues to warm my heart, mon cher,” he crooned, eyes practically sparkling from behind the sharp cut of his heavily lined lashes. “I will endeavor to return your kindness tenfold! A hundred!”

You waved off his sentimentality with a flick of your wrist and a not so delicate ‘shoo shoo.’

The hunter left your little bakery with a spring in his step and an outpouring of flowery promises that had your head spinning. He melted seamlessly into the shadows of the early morning, and between one blink and the next, he’d vanished entirely.

You would have thoroughly enjoyed the well-earned silence that followed, if not for the veritable storm cloud brewing over your friend’s head.

“Do I get one…?” Deuce asked finally, staring outright at the remaining muffins and sounding small and hopeful. And like that clearly wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“Maybe if I had the eggs to make more,” you lamented, brushing your hands against your apron.

Deuce made a wounded noise which you had exactly zero sympathy for. You got to work wiping down the counters and sorting through the bits and bobs you’d need to start your day.

“…You know he’s not right, don’t you? That bounty hunter?” Deuce finally said, setting the mop aside. “You must have heard at least some of the rumors floating around town. I don’t think anyone even knows if the guy’s human.”

You shrugged.

“Anyone who has to wake up when I wake up each morning has long given up on humanity anyways,” you droned, only sort of half kidding.

Deuce frowned, clearly unhappy with your non-answer.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, stern in his fretting. There was still a big ol’ chunk of eggshell tangled up in his bangs.

“When I am ever not?” you smiled, and carefully pocketed the little, blue, butterfly.

.

.

When you popped by the market stalls after closing shop for the day, the street was abuzz with all the usual gossipy nonsense that you’d long since learned to let settle at the back of your brain like white noise. You were busy debating if you had enough arms to manage balancing yet another bag of strawberries (they were at their height of freshness these past weeks it seemed, and you were like a little fruit goblin hoarding them while you could), when a particularly shrill bit of chatter worked its way past the pleasant curtain you’d let fall across your thoughts.

“There was another one,” the butcher’s wife whispered in a way that was most certainly not a whisper.

“I heard,” chittered the man who really should have been trying to sell you more strawberries if he’d any kind of business sense whatsoever. He turned on you with a look that meant you were clearly about to be dragged into a conversation you were entirely unprepared for. “It was one of yours, apparently!”

“One of my what?” you blinked back into focus.

“One of your regulars,” he said, like a secret.

“That strange Bounty Hunter came through again,” his coconspirator hissed, with a hand lifted as if she meant to cover her mouth. “He dropped off the body the other day—delivered the heart straight to the Felmier’s porch!”

“Who was it?” you asked, just like you knew they wanted you to.

“Sir Hamlen,” the butcher’s wife said. “You know, that awful toad who could eat you out of house and home.”

That sounded like all of your costumers, and more than half of your closest friends, but you gave yourself a moment to sort through your scattered thoughts and try and connect whatever dots they’d been throwing at you.

“Sir Hamlen…?” you said after a moment, slowly putting a face to the name. “With the terrible goatee?”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“Rotten pig,” the butcher’s wife piped back in. “Served him right, if you ask me. Everyone was expecting the Crown would put him to death anyways.”

You shrugged again. You hardly knew the man, but he’d always paid you well enough that you didn’t really have any ill will towards him. You went back to fussing over balancing bags of berries, but then… Well, there was something a bit funny, actually. He’d been a loud sort of person, with no filter to speak of. One afternoon, he’d stumbled into your little shop absolutely pissed on cheap drink and all but burping bubbles.

‘You know,’ he’d lulled, dropping a full coin pouch on your countertop. Which you’d taken in its entirely with zero hesitation. ‘I’d die happy if my last meal was these fucking tarts of yours.’

‘Is that so,’ you’d drawled, in the bland way you answered literally every customer who spouted off whatever nonsense was kicking around in their heads.

‘Aye,’ he’d sighed, practically stooped over. ‘Gonna have to pry ‘em outta my cold, dead, hands.’

“Huh,” you muttered, thoughts wandering back to a pair of bloody gloves and the little treat you’d pressed into them. Huh.  

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[ravenromanova]

On the run

Pairings: Bounty hunter Nat x Thief female reader

warnings: Mentions of death, knives, kidnapping, SMUT 18+!!! (Thigh riding, face sitting, oral, fingering, squirting)

Word count: 3.8k+

Summary: Natasha is hired to kidnap you. But when she finds out why will she be able to do it? (I’m sorry this is so late!)

Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~

Breaking into The White Wolfs office building was a lot easier than you had thought it would be. You picked the lock and ran upstairs without being detected as fast as possible. When you finally found the office labeled “James Barnes” you smiled to yourself and picked the lock. You were able to hack into his computer very easily thanks to your fathers teachings.

Scanning through all the files you smile when you find exactly what you were looking for. You clicked on the filed named ‘The winter project’ and after a quick confirmation that it was indeed the filed you needed, you put your usb into the computer and downloaded the data.

Once the data uploaded you took the drive and put it in your pocket before exiting out of the computer and shutting it down. You opened one of the large windows in the office and housed your grappling hook to scale down the building. You mentally give yourself a high-five as you get into your car and drive back to your apartment which was 5 hours away from the city. And that night you fell asleep peacefully to the sounds of crickets and smiled knowing your plan was in motion.

The next day you got ready as normal and went about your day as you normally do. But as you were walking around town you felt as if someone or something was watching you. It wasn’t until you were walking around the farmers market that you knew for a fact that someone was following you.

You noticed a flash of red which you assumed was the persons hair color as you bought some strawberries. After you paid the lady you wanted to really confirm your suspicions, so you walked down an alleyway. And when you did you heard another set of footsteps. Slyly you grabbed the 3inch blade that was in your belt loop and turned around and held it to the persons throat.

“Fuck” The woman muttered as her head hit the brick wall behind her. You pressed the blade into her throat more as she grunted in pain.

“Why are you following me?” You spit out at the woman and she pushes you off of her before catching her breath to speak.

“I was trying to capture you.” She says in between gasps of air.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes went wide. “Capture me! I dont even know you! why the hell would you want to take me” You ask as you grip the handle of your blade tighter ready to attack if needed.

“Because i was paid 2 million dollars to” The woman responds as she walks up closer to you. It’s at this time that you really get to notice her features. Her eyes are a light shade of green, She has light brown freckles that litter her cheeks and you cant help but get captivated by her.

You’re soon snapped out of your thoughts as she goes to grab your hand to take you with her. You pull away from her and draw your knife to her throat again before she kicks out your knee and pins you.

“You’re either coming with me willingly or we can do this my way where i knock you out” She huffs trying to catch her breath again.

“What!? Who hired you?” You question as you attempt to free yourself of her hold. She smiles a little evilly at your question and you just grow more confused.

“Did you really think you could break in and steal information from the white wolf and him not know?” She quips and just kinda laughs at her own question.

“Well maybe if he wasn’t a killer i wouldn’t want to steal his information and take him down.” The words come out a little broken as they come out and the woman definitely notices.

“Well your vendetta against him isn’t my concern all i know is that i was hired to bring you to him so he can deal with you himself.” The woman says and she then takes your hand and handcuffs you to her.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You yell at her and she just simply shrugs and stands up pulling you with her.

“This way i dont lose you” And with that she’s tugging your arm making you walk beside her. At this point you dont even know if you should try to run away since she seems to be much stronger and quicker than you.

“So you’re seriously going to hand me over to someone you know is a gonna kill me the second you deliver me” Her facial expression falters slightly at your words but she keeps walking. You roll your eyes and just huff as she doesn’t respond still trying to think of a way to get out of this.

After walking for what feels like thirty miles out of town you finally make it to what your assume is her car. You look at her confused since you have no idea hoe the hell to get in the car handcuffed.

“Crawl over the drivers seat and sit down. if you think i trust you to willingly get in the car and not run you’re even more insane than i thought.” The woman says and pushes you into the car. You do as you’re told and crawl over the drivers to get into the passenger seat. She followed behind and got into the drivers seat and started the car.

“This is so fucked up” The words are barley audible as they leave your lips. As she drives off you just stare out the window with your left arm strained as she drives. At this point you fully give into your situation and come to terms with it.

~an hour later~

As you stared out the window as the car was filled with silence. Neither you or the woman spoke to each other for nearly an hour until you felt the car come to a halt.

“Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?” You ask looking out the window and seeing just a bunch of nothing where you are.

“Because we ran out of gas” The redhead slams her hands on the steering wheel in frustration and in turn pulls your arm with her.

“ow! could you be a little more careful” She rolls her eyes at your statement and mumbles a ‘sorry’ “What are we supposed to do now? We are in the middle of nowhere with no gas and the nearest gas station isn’t for at least another fifty miles” She just groaned at your words. The next few minutes are silent as the woman tries to come up with a plan.

“Well i guess we are gonna attempt to hitchhike or find a place to crash for the night.” And with that she’s pulling your arm as she gets out of the car and you obviously follow.

“This is ridiculous if you had just let me go we wouldn’t be here.” You huff and try crossing you arms but fail.

“You know i still dont even know your name random woman who kidnapped me” She laughs at you remark as she grabs a bag from her trunk before she starts walking off.

“Well i didn’t think we’d be around each other for long but plans change” She replies as you two reach a dirt road to follow. “It’s Natasha” The woman adds with a little hint of a smile on her face.

“It’s pretty” You admit looking at Natasha and she blushes a little.

“Thanks- uh try and see if you have any service and if you do try to find the nearest motel if possible” Nat said clearly changing the topic of conversation. Pulling out your phone you squeal when you see you have on bar. Quickly you go to look up a motel and see one fifteen miles away.

“There’s one fifteen miles down this road should take about an hour or two” You point north and she nods and you both just walk in silence.

The sun goes down as you both tread to the motel and luckily it’s autumn in new york so it’s not hot. Neither of you speak unless you’re giving her directions which wasn’t often. You did however notice how gorgeous the woman was. Granted she was literally delivering you to deaths door but hey at least she was hot.

Natasha stole glances at you here and there as you walked. For some reason she had a pit of guilt in her stomach. Normally she has no remorse for her bounties since most of them are awful people. But here you were this girl who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, She couldn’t help but wonder why The White Wolf wanted you dead so bad, What did you steal?

The two hours go by rather quickly even though your legs are indeed killing you. The two of you walk into the lobby of a very shabby motel.

“Hi there! What can i do for you two” The woman at the front desk asks as both of you approach the desk.

“We’d like a room for the night please” You say with a smile and the woman nods and starts typing.

“We have a room with a queen bed for twenty dollars a night will that work dear?” She asks and you look over at Natasha who just shrugs and nods her head.

“Alright dear and if just for the night then it’s twenty even” You nod and pull out your wallet from your pocket but Natasha beat you to it. She gave the woman her card and paid. The woman handed you the room key along with telling you where the room was and you thanked her before walking away.

It was silent as you two walked up the stairs to the second floor. When you reached the door Natasha used the key card to open the door. You walked into the room first and she followed behind. The room wasn’t the worst but it also wasn’t exactly the best. Luckily it was only for a night.

You were quickly reminded of the handcuffs when your left arm got pulled towards the bed and you groaned.

“Okay listen i know you handcuffed us because you think im gonna run but if i promise not to run will you take them off.” Natasha noticed the pleading look in your eyes as you spoke. She was a little hesitant about uncuffing you both, on one hand she didn’t want you to run because if she lost you’d she be dead, and she also kinda liked your presence.

“If you try to escape i don’t hesitate to knock you out understood” She agrees with a stern look and you nod in agreement. When she uncuffs you she notices how you dont move away from her and you just kinda look at her.

“Uh thanks” You finally spoke breaking the trance you were in.

“No problem. Why dont you go take a shower and then we can figure out how to get back to the city later” Natasha said and it’s then you realize you have no clothes and nothing to shower with.

“I would if i had anything to shower with” Pointing to the lack of bags on your hand. She nods her hand and opens the bag she grabbed earlier before you left her car.

“That’s why i brought these.” And with that she hands you a change of clothes and mini toiletries. You thank her and head to the small bathroom and lock the door.

You turn the small shower on as hot as it can go before getting undressed. Setting the clothes on the sink and stepping into the hot shower you sigh in relief as the water runs down your skin.

While your in the shower Natasha has the most infuriating internal struggle she’s ever had. She knows she should bring you to The White Wolf but she can’t help but feel like there’s something that she doesn’t know. She is determined to find out why he wants you dead so bad when you get out of the shower.

After you wash your body you grab one of the towels from the motel and wrap it around your body. You wipe the fog off the mirror before staring at yourself in the mirror. Your mind wanders off to your father and how he would handle this situation, He’d probably would have already killed this woman, You wish you could call him and ask him what to do…But you cant. So with a heavy sigh you put on the oversized t-shirt and shorts before wrapping your hair in the towel and walking out.

When Natasha sees you step out in her clothes her breath hitches in her throat. She takes a moment to study your features and take in how breathtakingly beautiful you are, Your hair that flows past your middle back, How long your eyelashes are, How soft your skin looks-. She cuts her own thoughts off as you sit on the bed next to her.

“Thanks for the clothes” Your voice comes out soft and for a moment you forget that this woman is bringing you to your death. Suddenly you feel a sense of fear and your eyes swell with tears. Natasha notices your change in demeanor and puts two and two together.

“If you dont mind me asking…What did you steal from The White Wolf? Why does he want you dead” Natasha asks as she scoots closer to you and gently holds your hand.

The look you give you give her before you speak can only be described as innocent. “Two years ago my father was killed. He worked for The White Wolf as his second in command for fifteen years. He found out that the White Wolf was planning on conducting illegal human experiments in attempt to make something that he called a super solider. My father said that he would report him to the fbi if he did so and then he executed my father right then and there. I had found out from my brother who worked there as well what happened and since that day i vowed to take him and his entire operation down.” Tears start to fall as you recall your fathers death and you just sit there stuck in the memory.

It’s right then and there that Natasha decides she’s not gonna bring you in. You were innocent, You were just trying top avenge your father she couldn’t bring you to deaths door because of that. She just hugs you after you finish speaking. The action takes you by surprise but you accept it and quickly embrace her back.

“I’m not taking you to him anymore- Now that i know why i-i cant do it” She whispers into your hair and you look up to her and start to cry even more.

“He will kill us both if you dont you know” The words are shaky and broken as they come out. She just shakes her head and puts her finger against your lips.

“I dont care what happens to me. I just wanna keep you safe.” She says honestly and you’re amazed by her. She has only known you for a few hours and yet is risking her life for you.

“Why? You dont even know me…For all you know i could be a serial killer” You joke a little and she laughs and god its the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I guess you’re right. But i’ve done my research on you Y/n killing doesn’t quite seem like your MO” She teases back and you giggle and reposition yourself against the headboard.

“Yea i guess you’re right but still why are you risking your life for someone you just met?” Natasha looks at you and sits down next to while taking your hand in hers again. Her thumb runs over your knuckles and you get this feeling as if you’ve known her for years. It takes her a moment before she responds as she get lost in the moment herself.

“I see something in you and it makes me want to protect you- i can’t describe it” She confess and your heart swells. Before you can even think about your actions your lips on on hers. Natasha is quick to reciprocate the kiss along with grabbing you and having you straddle her hips. You moan into her mouth as she grinds your hips down on her thigh.

“Fuck me” You whisper into her mouth and she’s quick to leave dark bruises on your neck. After she’s satisfied with the marks she lifts your shift off you and moves to your boobs. She moans when she sees your bare chest and you blush as she grabs the soft skin.

“So pretty Kotenok” The words she speaks makes you groan and grind on her thigh a little faster. She quickly takes a nipple in between her teeth and grazes it lightly before sucking on it.

“Oh fuck Nat-Please fuck me” She doesn’t need much more convincing after that. Natasha flips you both so you are underneath her on your back. She rids you of you shorts and underwear and stares at your bare pussy.

“So fucking pretty” Her voice is deep as she drinks in the sight in front of her. Slowly she makes her way to you slit licking from there to your clit and you let out a soft moan. She focuses on you clit and starts sucking on it at a fast pace. She moans at the taste of you as if its the sweetest thing on the planet.

“Oh fuck yea right- right there” You moan and she adds two fingers into your tight hole and you scream.

“So tight baby so fucking tight” She mutters into your pussy sending vibrations to your clit that makes your back arch. Natasha kitten licks your clit and the teasing of it drives you up a wall. Once she adds the third finger that’s when you really fucking lose it.

“Oh fuck yes YES!” You scream and you swear you can feel her smirk into your pussy as she sucks your clit harder. You can feels your walls pulsate on her fingers as she gives you an unrelenting pace,

“Cum for me baby” She urges picking up the pace and fucks into you harder. You can feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter as you drink up the pleasure coursing through your body. You’ve never felt anything like this before and you know that after this you’ll be ruined for anyone else.

“Fuck-har-harder natty please” Natasha smirks at the nickname and happily obliges and fucks into you at a much harder pace. It doesn’t take long before you’re back in arching and you’re screaming as she kisses your g-spot.

“i-im cumming!” And within thirty seconds you squirt on her fingers and tongue. Natasha groans and continues to lick your pussy clean. When she comes back up for air she sticks her fingers in your mouth.

“Taste yourself baby” And you do as you’re told and swirl your tongue around her three fingers. She pushes them further into your mouth and fucks your throat with them. You gag on her fingers but you dont complain as you relish in this filthy moment. Once you have cleaned her fingers to her liking she takes them out of your mouth and replaces her fingers with her mouth.

“Fuck baby you taste so fuckin good” She praises in between kisses and you moan out a thank you in response.

“I wanna taste you too” A hint of mischief hidden on your words as you scoot down on the pillow. She takes the hint and rids herself of her pants, before she places herself around your head and settles her pussy down on your mouth.

You wrap your hands around her thighs and push her onto your tongue. She grinds her hips on your face and moans as your lips suck on her clit.

“Oh fuck baby” She moan and her hands tangle themselves in your hair as you continue sucking. You quickly add a finger into her already dripping pussy and that drives her crazy. She’s quick to fuck herself as much as she can on your finger. You moan in satisfaction as you feel her clench around your finger, when you add another one Natasha practically screams at the stretch.

“Fuck baby im gonna cum” Her words feel like a challenge to you and in that moment you want to make her cum more than anything. You add a third finger while nipping and sucking on her clit. Her walls clench on your fingers as you hit her g-spot.

“FUCK!” Natasha screams as she cums on your fingers and tightens her grip on your hair. She falls on the bed next to you as she tries to catch her breath. You roll over on your side and look at her fucked out face and smile.

You cuddle into her side and run your hand under her shirt in soothing motions. “That was amazing” You confess and she looks at you with a dopey smile on her lips.

“Agreed” She says and wraps an arm around you waist. The two of you stay like this for a moment not caring about aftercare right now. The silence is nice as you both enjoy each other’s presence.

“So what happens now?” Your voice is the first one to break the silence. Natasha lets out a sigh and rubs her hand over your hip.

“Well i have a plan but it’s not exactly that well thought out” She admits as you look up to meet her gaze. You nod as a sign for her to continue. “Why dont we just take the money and run? We can go anywhere you want, and we can change our names so The White Wolf doesn’t find us and we make a life together-“ Your eyes widen at her words and she takes that a sign that she’s being crazy and that there’s no way you’ll agree to this.

“Unless you think its a stupid idea, Because in that case ill split the money with you and we can go our separate ways” The words come out anxious and shaky and you shake your head and put your finger to her lips like she did earlier.

“Let’s do it” You smile “Lets be on the run together.” After the words come out Natasha smiles and kisses you with more passion than before.

Being on the run with the woman who was hired to kidnap you? Definitely not what you had on your yearly bingo card but hey… at least you aren’t dead.

~The end~

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or posted on other sites

[ross-hollander]

Lesser Known Legends...

...of the Inner Sphere and Beyond: everyone knows their The Bounty Hunter and their Black Marauder, but some notables never seem to really find the fame they deserve. For instance...

"The Grinch", name unknown, attacked Christmas tree farms in a pine-green Hatchetman across the Commonwealth in the years following the Jihad; speculated to have been disgruntled with the omnipresent holiday season sales advertising. Never apprehended. The damage was estimated to have been in the tens of millions.

Willy Divou, the "Red Paper Clip Bandit". Started in a raggedy CattleMaster, broke into military bases ranging from the Capellan Confederation to the furthest reaches of the Combine, swapping for a new, better 'mech each time. Arrested and executed after being baited with a rumors of an 'experimental improved Atlas'.

Theodora Mirene, the "Brick Wall". A Civil War mercenary whose grotesquely modified Stalker avoided differing weapons restrictions and parts availability in the various systems she operated in by not having any. She butted and body-checked over twenty enemy 'mechs down over her career, before retiring from battle strain.

Toni Anathol, "The Solaris Menace". Active from 2904-6 as the only person to ever reach double digits (27, all told) for streaking in the 'mech arenas. Was captured when he twisted an ankle brutally mid-run, but fans demanded his release. His career was over after that, though he received the only official Solaris Medal of Spontaneity.

"The Possum Pilot", spotted across numerous battlefields but consistent in their tactics during the Andurien Crisis. Always piloted an Archer so dilapidated as to appear to be a wreck, then sprung up and fired on unsuspecting FWL troops. Killed when stepped on by a Zeus that took them for underfoot wreckage. Body was unidentifiable.

Susan Ravenwater, "The Party Bus", a Hell's Horses pilot active during STAMPEDE with a dicey strategy of ordering every Elemental in their Nova onto their 'mech, and moving as a flanker to drop twenty-five Elementals into the fight when the enemy was fighting what they assumed was elements of a standard Star.

"Big" Boots A. Tajag, a mercenary for the Dominion during their war against the Combine. A dedicated Trebuchet pilot who practiced the self-taught "art of 'mech-jitsu". Never scored a confirmed kill in the field: only ever knocked over or tripped enemy 'mechs. Died to a Locust whose reverse knee joints baffled his technique.

Jared Hada, the "Turtle of Terror". Piloted a massive, over-armored Rifleman which would drop into planetside docks and depots, firing on anyone trying to enter or leave until a ransom was paid for access to the supplies. This worked until a Lyran supply depot simply waited him out, breaking in and arresting him when he fell asleep during the standoff.

[inoreuct]

horse girl zoro/prince sanji au that @redgitanako and i talked about way back when because it suddenly crossed my mind OKAY HERE WE GO

zoro’s a travelling bounty hunter with three horses. yes, three. don’t tell kitetsu and enma but wado’s his favourite

wado was kuina’s horse; when kuina died she was so sad because she didn’t get why kuina was gone and for a while zoro had to emotionally support a horse AND himself, but horses are smart creatures. wado understood by herself after a while. they don’t really talk about it.

on that note, zoro talks to his horses. people look at him like he’s a few crayons short of the whole pack but they don’t say anything because he looks scary as hell; built like a brick wall, one eye gone, gnarly scar across his chest and all

(they’ll never know that he’s having an argument with enma about buying supplies where one party is contributing in possibly-misinterpreted horse looks. the crayons aren’t missing— but it’s admittedly a little hard to prove they’re there, zoro, we can’t keep defending you like this)

sanji's the third prince of the kingdom that hires him; sora’s the queen, and his siblings are all decent other than regular sibling assholery. judge is on the run and they’ve made the collective decision that they want his head on a stick.

zoro expects sanji to be a stuck-up priss because he LOOKS like a stuck-up priss— look at his perfect hair. his clothes. his heeled boots and his stupid curly eyebrows

but NO. well, yes, sanji IS a little bit of a stuck-up priss but also, he’s good with horses?? wado takes to him like a DREAM and zoro's flabbergasted because anybody who has ever tried to coddle her other than zoro or kuina has gotten kicked in the head, but sanji's petting at her neck and cooing at her in baby-talk and she's licking sugar cubes and apple slices out of his palm. zoro feels so betrayed.

like of COURSE his horse had to take a liking to the boy he hates OF ALL PEOPLE.

(zoro. at this moment the horse is smarter than you. listen to her.)

reiju’s the princess here, but sanji’s the one who got all the magic-esque affinities. animals LOVE him. he would be a literal disney princess if not for the fact that he doesn’t love them back

like SQUIRREL. WHY ARE YOU SHITTING ALL OVER MY YARD. GO AWAY. WHY IS A DOG TRYING TO LICK MY HAIR. WHYYY IS THIS BIRD BRINGING ME STICKS ALL THE TIME. he’s trying to fall asleep. he hears a TSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSK. he sits up and gets right out of bed and starts yelling at the lizard on the ceiling.

he does have a pretty mare called maple, though! (and zoro can’t help but love her too; it’s a sign that the mosshead doesn’t clock until much, much later)

and then zoro comes into his life with his three horses and sanji yanks him in by the collar like "listen up, swordsman. i do not CARE how sweet your horses are. i do not CARE how— how— WHATEVER you are. if you stink up my stable i will make you sleep in it, are we clear?" and zoro just nods because he’s having a bit of a gay crisis

sanji is 1. pretty 2. entirely able to hold his own and 3. Wado Approved™ and zoro does NOT know how to deal. at all. he’s holding onto wado’s reins for dear life. he wonders if the same ultimatum would apply if he swapped out the word stable for bed and immediately wants to dunk himself into the horse trough.

meanwhile sanji isn’t spared at all. sora sits on her throne, one eyebrow raised as her son goes on and on about how "mother i hate the swordsman you hired. he's green. and ugly. like a troll. like an OGRE. his hands are too big. his boots are too shiny. his earrings are cute but only because i want them. his EVERYTHING smells like horse. he might as well be a horse with how strong he is, did you know how many hay bales he carried at once??" and she’s just like,,, "honey are you sure this is hate"

she certainly wouldn’t mind them being together. zoro is rough around the edges and does smell a bit like horse, admittedly, but he was clearly raised right— he’s respectful in his own gruff way and he does things with immense care. sora’s noticed. she knows her son well enough to know that he’s noticed, too.

one day sanji bumps into zoro on his way out of the baths and wow. okay. so he doesn’t smell like horse ALL the time and oh his hair is damp and there's a towel around his waist and he is very, very shirtless and sanji turns around in a panic and walks face-first into a pillar.

he watches zoro care for his horses, carefully brushing through their manes and coats as he speaks to them softly, and alright. maybe this guy isn’t all bad. animals, sanji has noticed, are brilliant judges of character; horses especially can be testy and temperamental, and they don’t hesitate to kick anybody they don’t like.

zoro’s horses love him, and it’s obvious. maple looks forward to the snacks he slips her when he thinks that nobody’s looking. that says a lot more about his character than anything else.

after a few days zoro has a solid plan down and sets out to find judge, and suddenly the stables are empty. sanji finds himself going out with maple more and more, exploring the woods around their forest to pass the time because he needs something to keep his mind occupied and there’s only so much he can cook. judge might be a piece of shit, but he’s also an evil genius, and sanji refuses to admit he’s worried even though he is.

and then zoro comes back with judge’s war helmet wrapped in a cloth, gore dripping off the bottom edge as he sets it at sora’s feet.

he’s a little banged up, tired as hell with a couple of scratches here and there— nothing serious, but sanji still drags him to the infirmary and cleans him up perhaps a little more emotionally than either of them had expected

he passes out for a good few days afterwards but sora invites him to stay for a little longer, a time frame that nobody specifies. zoro just kind of… doesn’t leave. it’s strange for him; he’s wandered, always. he gets antsy staying in one place for too long, but this blond prince that is strangely kind and gives back as good as he gets is really something else.

the days pass. they race and bicker and soon enough, all three of zoro’s horses have brass name plaques tacked above what are now their stalls. he had a room in the palace and a place at the dinner table. sanji’s hair has grown long, now, and neither of them talk about the way that zoro’s stay has become something that feels more permanent—

until zoro finally finds the balls to give sanji one of his earrings as a courting gift. it’s the first one of many, but at that moment sanji just looks at it wide-eyed and zoro starts to shrink back all like "if you. don't want it that's alright. i'll get you something new, something else—" because look, he knows he’s not much. he has money, but not enough to give sanji something really nice. not enough to get something that’s more impressive than all the jewels and gold that the prince could have at a whim. he’s a bounty hunter that came from dirt and this earring is the most precious thing he has to offer, but he understands if—

sanji kisses him. yells something borderline incoherent along the lines of about fucking time as he shakes zoro by the shoulders, but he’s smiling very brightly and he’s very beautiful and zoro has a feeling they're going to be just fine.

(sora and the siblings breathe a collective sigh of relief, because the pining looks and dejected sighing were really getting a little ridiculous.)

(they speak too soon. after they get together it somehow gets WORSE.)

this was a ride… (get it. get it.) okay i’ll stop HOPE YOU ENJOYED HEH i know a lot of places are having a flu season/covid wave going around rn so make sure to hydrate and eat well!! muaks 😽

[vodika-vibes]

Something Goes Bump In The Night

Summary: Months after you find Fives on Kamino, you and he start looking for answers as to why he's alive.

Pairing: Wraith! ARC Trooper Fives x F! Twi'lek Reader

Word Count: 3659

Prompts: Fixing each other's clothes, "Shut the kriff up and eat your shitty ration bar." and "You make me feel safe." "You really shouldn't"

Warnings: Violence, Fives attacks the reader without meaning to, the word sex is mentioned twice in regards to the reader doing Spoogle (space google) searches, Reader is described as a blue-skinned twi'lek with ear cones.

A/N: So, this story is brought to you by the many, many, many pictures I've seen of Fives with a y-incision. Also, I played around with wraiths a little bit. Because I wanted to.

In the months that Fives has been living on your ship with you, you’ve come to learn a few things about him. 

A, he’s something of a perfectionist. You’re much more of a “good enough” type of person, especially when planning jobs, but he gets all bent out of shape if you don’t have a whole plan from infiltration to escape.

Ironically, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with improvising if the plan goes wrong, which is more confusing to you than you’d like to admit.

B, he’s messy. Since he was a soldier, you thought he would be a neat freak. But he’s not. He’s careful about ensuring his mess doesn’t get in your way, but you’ll find his datapads and models strewn around your ship rather than consolidated in a single place.

C, he’s clingy.

Look, your ship is small. Tiny. Built for one person and an astromech, maybe. It’s certainly not built for an adult man who is built like a brick wall and another person (namely yourself).

So you quickly sussed out that you and Fives were going to have to share a bed. It was a little weird, that first night. You’ve never shared a bed with anyone before, after all. 

But the following morning you woke up with him curled around you, his arms tight around your waist. Like a giant, clingy blanket. And, despite what you said to him that morning, about him being clingy, you’ve grown to enjoy it.

Your family isn’t really the “touchy” type, and Fives curling around you every night is the closest you’ve had to a hug since you were a child.

Which…is depressing, if you think about it too hard.

So, you don’t.

There are other things you’ve noticed about Fives, things that you make note of in your tablet, but would never mention to him. He has moments of extreme violence, never directed towards you, but towards other people.

He’s fiercely protective of you, to the point of murder.

And he’s afraid.

He’s so, so afraid of finding out what the Kaminoans did to him. 

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand and watch Fives move around the kitchenette with an absent sort of interest. He’s always hungry, Fives. Most of your money is spent on making sure there’s enough food on the ship for him.

“You’re staring,” Fives notes as he sits at the bar across from you.

You shrug, unconcerned, “I’m thinking.”

“Oh, is that why I was smelling smoke?” He teases something unnatural and inhuman glittering in his eyes. It should scare you. It should. But this is Fives.

How could you be afraid of Fives?

“You know me,” You joke back, “My brain is just three tookas on a treadmill—”

He grins at you, a lopsided smile that’s actually insanely attractive. It’s really not fair. How dare the Kaminoans choose Jango Fett as a template and not some ugly bounty hunter?

Wait…you’re getting distracted.

It takes you a moment to put your train of thought back on track, “I’m thinking,” You say as you point your ration bar at Fives, “We should hit up Jedha.”

He pauses, his spoon halfway to his mouth, “Why?”

“They have a collection of weird shit. Maybe they know what’s going on with you.”

Fives lowers his spoon back to his bowl and taps the rim of his bowl thoughtfully, “Are you sure you want to steal from Jedha?”

“Steal?” You press your hand to your chest in mock offense, “Fives! I do not steal! I merely…borrow things.”

He points his spoon at you, “And tell me, moonbeam. Have you ever returned anything you’ve borrowed before.”

“I returned your shirt!”

“Yeah. Because we live together. And you kept the sweatshirt.”

“I look amazing in your clothes.”

“You’re a twi’lek, you’d look amazing in a paper bag.”

You point at him, “That is a harmful stereotype.”

“Uh-huh,” He actually takes a bite of his oatmeal, “Remind me, what did you do for a living before you decided to become a thief?”

“I am a recovery expert—”

He raises a single brow and you huff and cross your arms, “I may have, possibly, been an exotic dancer. At a club that only hired twi’leks.”

“Thank you for making my point for me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Anyway. I think Jedha will have some of the information we need. Or, if nothing else, they can point us in the right direction.”

“I thought you decided that I’m a zombie.” Fives asks.

“Well, I thought so. But I’ve been doing some research online—”

“Oh boy.”

You glare at him, “I’ve been doing research,” You repeat, “And aside from a, truely concerning, number of people who would be okay with fucking a zombie, I have determined that you can’t be a zombie. Because you’re too smart.”

“Can we rewind to the point where people want to fuck zombies?”

“No. We can’t.”

“Come on, moonbeam,” He grins at you, “What did you see?”

This time, you pout at him, “Shut the kriff up and eat your shitty ration bar.”

“I’m eating oatmeal,” He counters smugly.

You reach across the table to steal his bowl, only for him to smack your hand with his spoon, “Rude!”

“Make your own oatmeal! I’m not sharing.”

“I let you sleep in my bed!”

“Our bed Moonbeam.” He wraps an arm around his bowl protectively, “Anyway, you were saying about Jedha.”

You mournfully eye the ration bar in your hand, and then shove it to the side, “I think you’re a spirit of some kind.”

“I’m solid.”

“I don’t know, Fives. This is why we need help!”

He watches you steadily for a moment, and then shrugs lazily, “Alright. We go to Jedha. You want to go set the heading?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You spin on the chair and hop to your feet to head to the cockpit. Then you pause and step around the bar to wrap your arms around Fives from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder for a moment, “We’ll figure it out, Fives. I promise.”

You see a small smile out of the corner of your eye, and his hand lightly presses against your cheek. I know. I trust you. You’ll figure this out. His touch seems to say, and you tighten your arms around him for a moment, before you release him. 

“Right. Jedha! Hopefully, the Empire hasn’t destroyed it yet. Or, if they did, they didn’t destroy the information.” You mumble to yourself as you leave the room.

Fives scowls as he looks around Jedha. They’re too late.

Nothing is left standing.

He glances at his moonbeam and feels the stirring of rage at the look on her face. She looks crushed.

He swallows the rage with difficulty, there’s no one here to lash out at. There’s no Empire here. No pirates. No Cartels. Just him and his moonbeam. A gentle breeze washes the scent of her over him, and it helps quell his anger enough that he’s able to speak.

“There might still be something left.” He offers.

She turns to look at him, her wide eyes glassy with tears, “How can you say that? There’s nothing left!” She gestures to what was once a bustling city at the foot of the temple. “They…destroyed everything.”

He’s going to kill the Emperor. And all of the Admirals. And probably everyone who’s ever worn an Imperial uniform.

How dare they make her cry.

Fives takes a deep breath and lightly sets his hand on her shoulder, “Don’t give up hope yet. We haven’t actually looked yet, have we?”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes, “Do you really think we’ll find something.”

“Well, if we don’t then all we lost is time.” Fives replies logically. He smiles at her when she turns to look at him, and gently adjusts her headwrap, pulling it down over her earcones. 

A tiny smile lifts her lips, and she presses her hands over his, “I suppose there’s no harm in looking.” She murmurs, she scans his face for a moment and then a small furrow appears on her brow, “I upset you. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault. I’m controlling it.” One of his hands falls so the backs of his fingers brush her cheek. “I suppose this ruins the plan we made.” He gestures to the ruins.

“Well…makes it moot, I suppose.” She replies as she tears her gaze from his face to scan the former city. “...do you think anyone got out alive?”

“I’m sure they did.” He lightly squeezes her shoulder one more time, “It looks like there’s a path through the ruins, shall we?”

“After you,”

He flashes a small smile and starts down the steps with his moonbeam hot on his heels. 

It takes time for them to work their way through the ruins. They have to backtrack several times after stumbling over roadblocks that Fives determines are too unsafe to climb over. 

Eventually, they make it to the former temple.

There are several openings and Fives checks all of them, before bringing her to one in the back, “According to the schematics, the archives used to be on this side of the temple.” He explains, “This opening should be the easiest way to get there.”

“Alright. Are you going first or do you want me to?” She asks.

Fives shoots her a look, “When have I ever let you go first?”

“Never, but there’s a first time for everything.” She grins at him, and he shakes his head before he smooths his hand over her head.

“I’ll go first, you can come after me when I tell you it’s safe.”

And that’s exactly what happens, Fives lowers himself down on the rope and makes sure that the area is safe, before shouting up that she can join him.

She descends the rope much faster than him. But then, his moonbeam is a thief, so she knows ropes a little better than he does. Fives makes sure that she’s secure on her feet before he looks around.

The Temple really is little more than a ruin.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect to find anything useful here, but he has to look. If only to keep her from feeling guilty.

“Alright. So the Archives were that way,” Fives nods at a collapsed hallway, “But I think if we go this way we’ll be able to find a way around.”

“Sounds like a plan,” She replies as she steps towards the opening in the wall that Fives indicated.

He stops her with a hand on her chest, “Why don’t I go first, see what I can see. Make sure that there’s actually a way through before we start poking around.”

“I can help, Fives.”

He chuckles and lightly kisses her forehead, “I know you can. But I’d like you to stay here. Maybe make a map?”

She blinks, “Oh! That’s a great idea!”

“I’m full of them.” He counters with a grin.

“You’re full of something, alright.” Fives’ grin widens. The fact that she’s sassing him means she’s slowly getting over seeing the aftermath of the massacre.

Good.

He hates it when she’s sad.

It should be illegal.

Fives waits until she pulls her headset out of her pocket and slips it under her head wrap, and he doesn’t move until he hears the familiar crackle of her comm coming to life in his ear.

“Alright, moonbeam. I’ll call out directions as I move.”

“And I’ll mark them on my tablet.” She finishes with an agreeable nod as she sits on a rock, “Just be careful. Just because nothing has killed you yet, doesn’t mean nothing will.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

An hour later, his moonbeam’s comm crackles to life, “—Who are you?” And Fives’ blood runs cold. 

He never considered that someone else might still be in the temple. He never considered it, so he didn’t look. 

“Wait, what are you…Hey!” There’s a sharp squealing noise of her comm being destroyed.

And that’s the last thing that Fives remembers.

You try to back away from the men that are slowly circling you.

Try being the keyword here, as there are five of them and only one of you and they have you completely surrounded.

“Who are you?” One of them, the leader most likely, demands as he aims his blaster at you.

“Who are you?” You counter, pulling bravery from…somewhere.

“I asked you first.”

“I was here first.”

“Do you always talk back to people pointing blasters at you?” Another man asks.

“Yeah, Pretty much.” You swallow hard. Fives is coming. You know it. Maybe if you get these men to leave you won’t have to witness the massacre that is Fives lost in a rage. “You should probably go.”

“Is that right?” One of the men, holding a snipe rifle (which seems excessive to you) asks sarcastically.

“My partner—”

“So you are not alone.”

Fuck.

Kriff.

“It’s fine.” The last man says, “We still outnumber them.”

“True.” The first man stares at you through his helmet, “Wrecker, tie her up.”

“Got it, Hunter.”

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Wrecker? Hunter? Those are clone names.

That or really bad call signs.

“...you’re clones?” You yelp as you take a step back.

The men pause, and then helmets come off and they move so that you can see them properly.

“We might be clones,” One of the men, paler than the others with cybernetics on his head, says coldly, “But you’re a graverobber.”

You ignore his words, staring instead at the handprint on his chest plate. “You’re Echo.” You say numbly.

He falters, “How can you possibly know that?”

“Oh Force, you’re Echo.” You whisper. “You! You have to put the weapons down! You have to!” 

“Why should we do that?”

“Fives is going to kill you.” You say bluntly. Matter of factly. 

Echo’s face twists, “My brother is dead.”

“Yeah, he got better.” He doesn’t believe you, and slowly you take a step away from him when you hear, what sounds like, wailing. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your lekku twist in discomfort. They can’t hear him.

They won’t hear him until it’s too late.

And Fives—

Dear Fives. Sweet Fives. Kind Fives.

He’ll never forgive himself if he kills his brothers.

And so, when the wall bursts open revealing Fives in a deadly rage, his form constrained by his armor, you know what you have to do.

He lunges at Echo, who is closest to you, and is the most obvious threat towards you. And you lunge forward as well, placing yourself between Echo and Fives.

“Fives! STOP!” You shout, spreading your arms wide to shield Echo as best as you can.

He can’t hear you. You know he can’t hear you.

But you have to try.

A strong hand wraps around your throat, and Fives slams you to the ground as if you weigh nothing. Pain blooms across your back and the back of your head.

Something sharp pierces both of your shoulders, and you bite your tongue to stifle your scream of pain. Though there’s no stopping the pained tears rolling down your face. 

You’ve always been a baby about pain, it’s fine.

Slowly, painfully, you reach up and pull Fives’ helmet off, allowing it to fall to the side. His eyes are blank, there’s no recognition in his gaze, and his teeth have grown to the fangs that always appear when he gets like this.

“Fives,” You speak his name calmly and clearly as you reach up and gently press your hands against his icy cheeks, “Fives. It’s just me. It’s just your moonbeam.”

Slowly the wailing subsides to a level that doesn’t make you want to claw your ear cones off, but his hand is still around your neck, and your vision is starting to spot. 

“Fives,” You repeat his name, “You need to let go.”

His grip tightens, and you gasp for breath. It’s getting hard to stay conscious. 

“Fives,” You rasp his name, “Safe. No danger.” Your hands are still pressed against his face, but you’re starting to lose consciousness. Force, you hope he doesn’t kill you. That will destroy him.

Just as you’re about to pass out from lack of oxygen, his grip around your throat loosens and you start coughing. There’s sharp pain as the nails in your shoulders retract, and Fives collapses on you, unconscious and human again.

You wrap your shaky arms around him, “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“What the fuck?”

Suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not alone, and you blink, hazily, up at Echo. A stricken, horrified, looking Echo. “It’s fine.” You say, “Everything’s fine.” 

It’s a lie. A horrible, awful lie. 

But you have to believe it.

You have to.

Fives wakes up slowly.

His head hurts, his entire body hurts.

It takes a moment for him to remember that someone was threatening his moonbeam and his eyes snap open.

He’s about to sit up when a gentle hand cards through his hair, “Easy there, Fives.”

He blinks at her, twice, and then looks around. They’re on the ship?

“I thought…what happened to Jedha?”

“We’re still on Jedha, just back on the ship.” She says smoothly, though her voice sounds rough. She’s wearing one of her sweaters, though the shoulders look bulkier than normal.

He sits up, slowly wincing in pain. “What happened?”

She opens her mouth to say something and then hesitates. “Nothing important.” She finally says, and Fives knows that she’s lying to him.

Memories flash in front of his eyes, faster than he can keep track of.

But he sees her, tears streaming down her face, his hand around her throat. His name, calm and collected, falling from her lips. 

He reaches out with a shaking hand to lightly grab the collar of her sweater, and he tugs it down.

There, stark on her pale blue skin, wrapped around her throat is a hand-shaped bruise.

His hand.

“What did I do?”

“It was an accident.” She says lightly taking his hand in hers and allowing the material of her sweater to hide the injuries from him, “It was an accident and it wasn’t your fault.”

“I tried to kill you.”

“It was an accident,” She repeats.

“What else did I do?” He demands, “Tell me.”

“I have a few…minor stab wounds.” She says with a sigh.

“Minor? Or all the way through.”

“It’s not you’re fault.” She repeats, “Not any more than any other time. You can’t help what you are.”

“A monster?”

She moves so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands moving to cup his face, “Fives, I’ve never thought that.”

“You should.”

She sighs and gently strokes his cheeks, “With help from my new friends, we managed to get into the archives, and I found a lead.”

He stares at her, “A lead?” Fives repeats, feeling as numb now as he did the day he woke up on Kamino.

“I think you’re a Wraith. Or a Wraith adjacent.” She explains, “We have to go to Zakuul to learn more.”

“Zakuul.” He feels like Echo, repeating everything that she’s saying. “You should leave me here. Where you’ll be safe.”

“No.” Her answer is immediate, “No. Fives, I’m not afraid of you.” She smiles at him and brushes a curl from his forehead, “You make me feel safe.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

She sighs and leans in to press her forehead against his, “If it helps, someone else will be traveling with us from now on.”

His gaze snaps to hers, and he feels the stirring of jealous possession burning in his gut.

“Don’t be like that,” She chides lightly, “You’ll like this one.”

“I doubt that.”

“I’m hurt, vod.” Fives jolts at the familiar voice and turns his gaze towards the doorway, where Echo is leaning against the frame. He has a small smile on his lips, though there’s something sad in his gaze.

“Echo?”

“Rex told me you died.”

“I saw you die.” Fives counters.

“Yeah well, looks like we both got better.” Echo jokes lightly, “I’m going to be hanging out with you two for a bit.”

“That’s…” Fives pauses, “Because I tried to kill her.”

“It was an accident.” She repeats, and Fives is sure that she’s going to say that a lot in the coming days.

“Because you’re my twin and something is wrong.” Echo walks over and lightly rubs Fives’ head, “Come on, did you think I wouldn’t help my little brother?”

“We were decanted at the same time.”

“And yet, Rex says I’m older.” Echo grins, “Now, baby brother,” He ignores Fives’ glare as if it’s not even there, “You need to rest.”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Fives,” His moonbeam says his name in a sigh, and Fives frowns at her.

“I’m fine! You’re hurt.”

“You both need rest,” Echo announces, “I am going to do some research on where this Zakuul place is, and then we’re going to comm Rex for a bigger ship—”

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s too small for three people. Hell, it’s too small for two people, and I refuse to share with the pair of you.” Echo says bluntly, “Anyway. You two rest, and I’ll handle everything for a bit.”

And then Echo is gone, allowing the door to snap shut behind him.

The bedroom is silent for a moment, and then Fives jolts when his moonbeam crawls over him and squishes herself between the bulkhead and himself, “There, now we can rest.”

“...you really don’t hate me?”

She releases an explosive sigh and pulls him down so she’s able to wrap herself around him, her head tucking under his chin, “How could I hate you? You’re Fives.”

And somehow, without her saying it, Fives hears exactly what she means.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

How could he not? He feels the same way.

@bad4amficideas

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[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵⋆౨ৎ˚⟡

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ [fem reader] contains: attempted kidnapping pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy meets a star girl author’s note: thank you my darling @phantomamor for talking ab this with me and helping me flesh out this world and the characters! MWAH I'm so excited for you all to read this <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The city was buzzing, breathing life into what had formerly been a word on a map to Billy. Beings of every species imaginable were conversing, haggling over prices and gossiping amongst themselves. It was impossible to stand still without touching anyone.

Billy's pockets were newly lined with the reward of his latest bounty, not as much as he would have liked for his efforts, but something, nonetheless. When he was newer to this line of work, maybe it would have put a spring in his step. Maybe he'd have even whistled, allowing himself a look at the shiny blasters arranged at the nearby table, maybe even considering buying one.

But today his spirits were lowered, melancholy even. His boots trudged along the dusty footprints of those who'd walked before him, hands shoved in his pockets. He ignored the call of surrounding merchants, letting their voices blend into the hum.

It was the same thing over and over again. He'd find some treasure long prized by a pawn dealer, risk his neck to locate it, and accept a measly price in return. Later today he'd fork over a portion to Jesse, the price for using the gang's name to secure better offers. And then the cycle would repeat.

It was a baseless existence. Flying all over the galaxy, getting his hands on things others deemed precious. It was funny- it all looked so important on the pages of a book, but not once when he held it in person did it feel that way. As far as he was concerned, it was terribly unimportant, faint relics destined for a life on the shelf. He almost felt bad removing them from their natural states. Every gem, every weapon...it felt like robbing a grave.

Clumping down the road until he emerged from the mouth of the crowd, Billy stopped for a moment, leaning against the brick of a building close at hand. On a normal night he'd go to the bar, but right now it seemed unappealing. The last thing he needed was a drink. He supposed he could return to his ship and retire early for the night. Goodness knew he didn't get enough sleep as it was.

Standing up straight, Billy was about to make his way back in the direction of his ship when a peculiar sound caught his ear.

"Excuse me sir...I need to get past..."

"Pretty little thing. C'mon sweetheart..."

Immediately Billy turned sharply, searching for the source. He took a step forward, ducking his head around the corner into an alleyway. The sight before him nearly made his blood boil.

A man, clearly heavily intoxicated, grasping the arm of a young woman. Billy couldn't tell what species she was from first glace, but she looked remarkably human from here. In the soft glow of the sunset, he could see the shine of her hair. There was a glow that seemed to brighten her from the inside out, as if her heart was made of light. Her eyes were wide, fear pooling in the centers.

You stared up at your captor, struggling slightly. "Please. Just let me go."

"Ain't lettin' one of your kind slip past," the man spat. Billy winced- he could practically feel his hot, liquor tainted breath from here. "Damn star people."

It hit Billy like a shot to the stomach, his body stiffening as he realized it. Your glow. You weren't human at all.

Star people were rare to see, especially in a place as godless as this. Said to have been born from the heavens themselves, star people were a legend lilted from the lips of bounty hunters far and wide across the galaxy. The blood coursing through their veins wasn't crimson, but golden, and it ran for a price that was enough to set a man up for life. The species made themselves scarce due to this fact.

When Billy was learning the art of the hunt, he'd accompanied a man seasoned on the market, seeking a rare plant with silver berries going for a decent price. It had confused him when they hunted down a man with a golden luster and tied him down instead of scouring the nearby forest. He assumed they were going to question him about the location of the plant, let him go when he'd given up such trusted information.

But instead, his companion drew a knife, turning to Billy with a hungry look in his eyes. "Watch 'n learn Kid. Always seize the opportunity for a better bounty."

Much to Billy's horror, the knife came down on the golden man's skin, drawing forth a spurt of shining liquid. He was paralyzed watching him bleed out, his inside life force collected by someone so overtaken by greed that he failed to realize the awful thing he was doing.

The memory of the star person's face as he died had haunted Billy ever since he witnessed it. It was the reason he'd never collected a living bounty since. And it was the reason his feet were moving forward now, straight into the alleyway. His hands tore the man away from you, shoving him aside. His body hit the ground with a heavy thump, buying you some time. Billy extended a hand to you. "Come with me. Before he gets up."

You shrank back a bit, the sight of another man so close likely terrifying. Billy winced at the swiftness of his actions, but he emphasized his hand. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

In the dim light, Billy could see the golden sheen filling your body with light, the freckles dotting your arms like a sun had kissed them. There were strands of gold woven into your hair, making you appear nearly unreal. And suddenly the notion of you being descended from the stars didn't seem so impossible.

Slowly, you set your fingers in the palm of his hand, your soft touch igniting something in him, a conflagration that reached from his toes to his hairline. When he looked into your eyes, he could have sworn they were glowing.

Carefully, he led you out of the alleyway, back into the streets, which were emptying with each strain of darkness that settled in. Your breathing was slowing down as you followed him, shoes barely making a sound on the cobblestone ground.

There was a loud clatter behind you that sounded suspiciously like a blaster falling from a holster, and Billy squeezed your hand without thinking. "Quick-run!"

Almost akin to a doe, you started sprinting with him, surroundings becoming a blur. Your skirt trailed behind you, the pale color of it making it look like you were being followed by mist. It and your top were of light iridescence, shimmering as you hurried along beside him. It was mesmerizing how gracefully you ran, and it made him feel a hundred pounds heavier as his boots clomped alongside your slippers.

There were string lights swooping over the gap in the streets, twinkling like your eyes. You both came to an abrupt stop once you turned a corner, panting for breath. Your hand was still engulfed in his, and he didn't complain when you kept hold.

Turning his face to you, Billy was expecting distress, tears even. But your expression was elated. Shoulders rising up and down, your eyes caught on his, the sight of your smile making him feel as though he was watching the sunrise. "Do you think he was even chasing us?" A breathy giggle trailed after your words like fairy dust.

Billy couldn't help his own chuckle bubbling from his lips. "Better safe than sorry."

Putting your free hand to your heart, you took in a deep breath, watching him warmly. "Thank you for rescuing me. He's been following me all night and I made a mistake in where I went to try and lose him."

"My pleasure." Billy tipped his hat. It was a product of his upbringing more than anything, but he imagined even the worst of scoundrels would find themselves gentlemen in your presence.

He was endeared when you lifted the sides of your skirt, sweeping a foot delicately behind your ankle and bowing your head. "Twas good of you anyways, sir."

"Billy." He was grinning.

"Billy." You said it so lightly, so curiously, and he wanted to exile his name from everyone else's mouth. In sweet tones, you told him your name too. Your identifying word could have been anything and he would have found it beautiful simply because it was attached to you.

Taking in a breath as fine as spun silk, you said, "I truly do appreciate what you did. Not everyone would have." The luscious curtain of your hair fell over your shoulder as you leaned in, and the ambrosial scent of you filled his nose. Every detail of you was coming to light, enhancing you when he thought he'd already viewed perfection. Billy was no purveyor of the arts, but you were a masterpiece.

You were close enough that he could see every freckle that dotted the smooth plane of your face, and their gold color. The beads of your top kissed your arms like droplets of water. Even as the night settled upon the world, your skin glimmered, every shining strand of hair winking at him like a call to reach out and touch. He was sure that you would melt under his roughened fingers if he did.

Remembering himself, he cleared his throat, nodding once. "Maybe not everyone knows what's right."

Something changed in your eyes, and he saw a flicker, a flame in your irises. Suddenly he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, like both your hearts were magnets yearning to connect. Pushing your hair over a shoulder, your eyelashes fluttered as you peered up at him. He was unsure if it was your heavenly origins that were drawing him in, or if it was you. "Can I walk you back home?" The sentence slipped from his mouth before he could regulate it, his body's natural instinct to be near you for longer.

Even the littlest hint of your smile was dazzling. Your head bobbed up and down, and you squeezed his hand lightly. "I'd like that."

Oh how he would thank the heavens later.

The cosmos were brimming with eternal wonders that burned at their edges, gathering in the dark side of every moon and hiding in the shadow of the rings of silvery planets. Billy had been far and wide across the space of the galaxy, seen things man could never dream up. But never had he been so captivated by anything as you.

Your coppery aura enveloped him like an aphrodisiac, crashing over him and rebounding like the waters of some lost ocean. He was tethered to even the mere idea of you.

You chattered as he walked with you to your residence, and he felt like he was listening to a song. Your being seemed to not only decorate space, but time, and he'd lose a thousand hours in your presence if he could.

"I haven't lived here for long," you explained when he asked, eager to hear you talk about yourself. "I travel between planets, seek passage wherever I can find it. Travelling is my favorite thing." You smiled, seeming to lift off your feet at the thought. "What brings you around here?"

"For work," he said, tearing his eyes away from you to look ahead. Feathered creatures were flying low between string lights, the buzz from earlier dulled to a quiet hum. "I find things for folks who want 'em. 'n they pay me to do it. The last buyer was here."

"You're a treasure hunter?" you asked, delighted by the idea. He exhaled softly, smile growing. Treasure hunter sounded much better than bounty hunter.

He nodded, looking back at you. "Yeah. 'xactly. I find pretty things that folks wanna have."

"So you get to go all over the place," you mused, swaying slightly as you walked like a willow in the breeze. "It must be so wonderful."

"It's exciting, sure," he commented, scratching the back of his head. It was beguiling how much interest you were taking in him, in what he did. Nobody had ever done that before.

You chewed on your bottom lip, pace slowing as you seemed to think of something. Lifting your eyes to his, you let go of his hand and asked, "Does anyone ever want to have something like me?" The question was delivered quietly, with a sense of dismay Billy wanted to scrub from the air. You didn't deserve to ever have to feel such harrowing emotions.

He held your gaze, the reality of the situation seeming to gamble with his feelings. Would you want to talk to him after learning what he was, what people in his occupation did? "Yeah," he found himself saying. "But I ain't in that kinda business."

"You're not?" Conduct lightening again, you held a spark of hope in the vision of you.

"I don't go after anythin' livin'. It's cruel," he assured you, searching your eyes. "Others do. But not me."

There it was again, that divine smile that Billy wanted burnt into his eyes. You took his hand again, resuming walking, and he felt something warm him on the inside. "I'm glad. I'm glad that you don't."

"Me too," he agreed, enjoying the weight of your hand in his. It was almost like you didn't realize the significance of the gesture, like you were doing it simply because it felt nice. There was nothing but innocence attached.

It was blissful just walking with you, watching you point out different things around. You were enthralled by every facet of your surroundings, enchanted by the littlest things. It was adorable- the way you'd gasp and lift a gold-tinted fingernail, the object of your fascination ranging from bugs to buildings. It only made you more wholly beautiful, and he wished the walk was longer.

When the sky was completely black, you stopped in your tracks, another little gasp of the variety he'd grown to love passing your lips. "There they are!"

He followed your gaze up, to where the stars were blinking in patterns stretching far and wide, limbs that glittered in the same wondrous way you did. You lifted a hand in a wave that melted his heart, beaming up at the glinting little spheres. "They're my family. I wave at them every night to let them know I'm okay."

Your words were anointed with a reverence artfully arranged. Billy watched you for a moment. "Hope they're okay with me takin' you home."

"They're very grateful that you've kept me safe," you insisted, squeezing his hand gently. He was stabilized by you, held to the ground. If you left the planet, his gravity would be gone and he would float out into the sky with nary a worry except that he wouldn't pass you on his way through space.

The effect of you had to be alchemistic, a mercurial drug crafted specifically to wrench him in like prey to predator. But you were in front of him, soft and sweet with no possible hint of danger. And Billy felt as though he'd been knocked over the head, seeing an illusion borne of his own loneliness. Though anything of that manner would have faded by now. You remained in his line of sight, roseate and sparkling as only a descendant of the heavens could.

The two of you had reached the edge of the forest, the cobblestone street fading into rich brown earth. You were glowing ever so slightly, enough to distinguish you as extraordinary, and he felt as though he was in a dream, trailing behind you as a shadow.

Stopping there, you turned to him, a darling smile seeming to brighten your light. "Thank you again. For walking me home. And for helping me out."

"'s no problem, sweet." The term of endearment slipped out, and he cursed himself for the half a second before you smiled.

"It was nice," you started, and he found himself hanging onto every word, every breath you exhaled. "To talk to someone who wasn't wanting something else from me." Your doe eyes were boring a hole into him, and he would have disintegrated into dust.

"I liked talkin' to you too," he said, hearing the awe he'd felt all night with you creep into his words. "D'ya...d'ya think I'll see you 'round here again?"

"If it's written in the stars," you smiled, letting go of his hand. With one last look at him, you disappeared through the trees in the blink of an eye, soft glow visible through the mess of branches, then fading into the distance like a candle burning out.

For a moment, all Billy could do was stand there, grinning like a fool. He hadn't even known he was capable of feeling as strongly as he had when you were around. He'd held the hand of a fallen star. A daughter of celestial magnitude.

Chuckling in disbelief, he only turned around when your glow was swallowed by the forest, never dimming, just hidden like a light under a bushel. His steps were meandering, and he retraced his footsteps, drunk on the memory of you. Oh, wouldn't it be nice if he saw you again?

It wasn't every day a star girl smiled at him.

Next Part

[kayesfanfics]

Being Partners in Crime With Striker

A/N: Just watched all of Helluva Boss after some convincing, and I am coming out as a HB fan but mostly a Striker Simp. Also, takes place during the Harvest Moon episode

Warnings: Cursing obviously, some sexual innuendos and content but not straight up smut

You were born in Wrath as well, growing up poor was hard and your family turned to crime to make a living. You were a bounty hunter and mercenary, working hard to bring in money for your family and put food on the table for them. Your parents were getting old and tired, you and your siblings ran the family farm and did illegal work for extra cash as well

You met Striker when you were both hired by different people to go for the same target, not even realizing the other was there until your bullets collided when you both went to shoot your target

“Are ya crazy?! I was just about to kill em!” You’d both shout angrily, quickly realizing the situation. You would roll your eyes as Striker tried to tell you he could handle catching the target, and you didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about it. You both took off running after the target, trying to grab them or kill them before the other could. You got the upper hand, tackling the target and killing them quickly with a neck break. Striker skidded to a halt, a sly smile on his face as he grinned, “Well, a wins a win, ain’t it? Nice catch, dollface. How about I treat ya to a drink?”

After getting drinks together and chatting for awhile, he became less and less of an asshole, turning his charm on and making you swoon (on the inside at least, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction). After drinks, you went your separate ways, but started seeing each other more often because of your lines of work

You’d start dating eventually after finally giving in and going to his motel room with him to bang his brains out. He’s def a top though, so you’d leave the morning after with some scratches on your back and HUGE hickeys on your neck that were impossible to hide without stealing his bandana and tying it around your neck. He’d def like to mark you up to claim you, warning other imps not to even think about even breathing near you wrong

Lots of horse rides on Bombproof, you’d sit behind Striker and he’d make his horse ride a little rougher just to make you hold on tighter to him to stay on. You’d feed Bombproof while Striker got a fire going to take a rest for the night in the middle of the desert. He’d cook up some random Hell Birds he shot out of the sky for the two of you, plucking the feathers and handing you a bird on a stick. Not exactly the most romantic dinner, but you were also used to this kind of food so it brought some homely comfort

Speaking of homely comfort, you’d take him home to your family farm to meet everyone after a few months of dating and riding around the Rings of Hell with him. Your younger siblings were impressed with his gun slinging skills and he’d flex his muscles and let them hang off his arms to show off his strength. He’d be kind to your folks, kissing your moms hand and shaking your dads, complimenting their pile of bricks and talking up their daughter to them, which of course charmed them both. He even went as far to cook dinner for the whole family with you, giving a great first impression and gaining their approval to date you

When it came to doing bounties and assassinations together, the two of your worked incredibly well together, with your brains and his brawn. Plus doing it together made life far less lonely, being able to sleep together after long days of undercover work or chasing targets through Hell. Neither of you worried too much about the others safety, seeing how the both of you could handle yourselves with ease

When the two of you took an undercover job on Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch to get closer to a target and investigate the case. You did hard farm work all day between snooping around the house, acting as a charming couple looking for honest work. The work was nice to do though, reminded you of being a kid on your farm before you went into the bounty business, and Striker looked good doing his work so there was no complaining from you-

When your targets associates finally arrived, you slapped a convincing smile on your face and charmed them as best you could with your boyfriend. You quickly tried to make friends with Millie, easily gaining her trust by agreeing with her about things and saying shit she would like. Like when her paw suggested the boys enter the Pain Games, you talked up Striker which made her talk up Moxxie, and talking up your S/O always helped brighten the mood. You’d playfully say Striker was better, and the two of you made a friendly bet of who would win. You’d later laugh about it with Striker, giggling that there was absolutely no competition and he’d compliment your bullshitting skills with a grin

You and Millie cheered your boys on at the games, and you’d flash her a smile when Striker easily beat Moxxie with not much effort at all. You’d also take the opportunity to genuinely cheer for your boyfriend, enjoying watching him wrangle other contestants and wrestle with Blitzø in the mud like the stupid boys they were. Millie started disliking you when you cheered for Striker as he sang on stage about how he beat her husband and how much better he was than him, and you slipped up and said “What? He is.” instead of bullshitting some sympathy to Moxxie

After the Pain Games were over, you started getting back on track for your mission: killing Prince Stolas for his wife. You stayed outside with the family to distract them while Striker followed Moxxie inside, but when Millie heard something break inside, she went back inside and you now followed her up to you and Strikers room, just in time to see that bitch stab your boyfriend in the back multiple times. You quickly grabbed her and tossed her against the wall, nearly knocking her out but keeping her down

“Thanks, pumpkin’.” Striker grinned, kissing you before grabbing both imps. You let him go off, before turning to make sure the blessed rifle the Princess gave you was okay. You grabbed it and polished that little imps smudgy fingerprints off of it, smiling when Striker came back and wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Ya know that gun’ll work the same with or without smudges, right darlin?”

“Yes, but it looks better without them.” You smiled, handing the gun to him to make the hit as you heard the Prince’s voice on the mic. But your plan was eventually foiled by Blitzø and Moxxie, and the both of you ran off to safety, grabbing what belongings you could before heading out to find a shitty motel to crash for the night

[average-amount-of-chaos]

Because I can, I made designs for an AU scrambling the roles of Pizza Tower characters :b

Character duos are kept together and put in roles of other duos, solo characters are put in the roles of other solo characters. I specifically chose roles for each character, and this started cause I wanted to make Vigi the main character lmao.

Closeups (and text transcripts) under the cut!

Vigert in the role of Peppino: Trying to save his farm from destruction. Anxious and not very social, but will do anything for the farm he got from his Grandpa.

Noisette in the role of Gustavo: Buys ingredients for her pastries from Vigi, and is his closest friend.

The Noise in the role of Brick: Feral rat man. Steals from Noisette on floor 1, got his ass handed to him, and the two come to an understanding. (And Theo falls in love with her energy and fighting spirit)

Pizzahead in the role of Mr. Stick: Money hungry businessman with stock in Vigi’s farm. Not friendly with Vigi, but not hostile to him either.

Gustavo and Brick: Brick was turned into a pillar and duplicated to support the tower. Gustavo, the repairman, works in the tower only to maintain his animal friend.

Pepperman in the role of Pizzahead: Wants the land of Vigi’s home to build a massive museum dedicated to his own greatness. (Wearing green contacts)

Peppino in the role of Pepperman: Considers himself the best pizzamaker around, taking pride in his craft. Pepperman likes his passion and hired him for the tower.

Mr. Stick in the role of Vigilante: Bounty hunter looking to get the bounty Pepperman put on Vigi. Uses modifies weapons and various gadgets in battle.

Gerome and John Pillar in the role of Noise and Noisette: Gerome is an insane magician, John is a tired bar owner in the tower. The two brothers fight VERY often, but do care deep down.

John E Cheese in the role of Fake Peppino: A clone of Vigerts Grandfather made to mess with Vigi’s mind. (Note: Completely replaces Fake Pep).

Will I do anything with this AU? WHO KNOWS! I just thought making the designs was fun, the rest is up to whether or not my mind fixates on this AU or not lmao.

I don’t even really have a name for the AU

[mad-maximoff]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞

Summary: Don't call her babe, under no circumstances.

Warnings: Language, light bondage, gentle dom, soft choking, fingering, edging, denial, oral

Word Count: 1,949

"Who...in the fuck are you?" The statuesque blonde cocked her head violently around her shoulder. Her heavy silver chain hit her collarbone.

"My name's Mazzy. I'm from the resistance. You need to come with me now Barb." A much shorter woman came before the blonde whisking her hand as she led into a cellar door. Down a spiral metal staircase. "The resistance! I thought they were meeting me at the airport?!" Barb grew skeptical following the brunette. Mazzy's hair was shaved bald on either side of her skull in a short mohawk. Every orifice of her body was either covered in tattoos and piercings.

"Pfft! I thought so too. Supposedly the airport had bomb threats so it wasn't safe to fly you out. We have to take the subway." The stairs ended against a brick wall with a crater blown in the middle. "Duck!" Mazzy's hand laid on Barb's head to push her through the brick. "Watch the hair kid!" She brushed Mazzy's hand away adjusting the wild curls. "Fine, fine. We're in the last free city and you're worrying about your hair? Haha!" Mazzy brushed it off not wanting to start anything quite yet. She looked up to Barb Wire. All of the young freedom fighters did. After she took down the Congressional Council and killed Colonel Victor Pryzer she became a hero. Perhaps after this, the whole world will be free.

"I'm a hit woman with a specific look honey, I need to look the part." Her heeled boots ticked along the subway tiles. The subway system shut down years ago, so the last of the Congressional Council wouldn't find them. "Well, your hit woman days are over babe." Mazzy joked as her hips swayed along to the noise of the only subway growing to a halt.

"What did you call me?" Barb stopped behind Mazzy. She hated that sentiment. To be called 'babe' was her most hated. Barb's demeanour turned from confused to pissed in a matter of seconds. The subway cart finally drew to a complete stop opening the doors. "All I said was you being a mercenary and a bounty hunter was over." Mazzy threw herself down on a seat. Barb followed behind arms crossed over her the breast of her leather jacket. "No. The other part." Barb's leather boot tapped the subway cart floor, as the doors closed, Barb and Mazzy were the only ones in the cart. The lights began to flicker.

"What?... What the hell are you going on about?" Mazzy huffed as she slouched her back lower in her seat, widening her legs so her boots lay flat on the floor.

Barb Wire was feared by everyone, especially men who did not pay their debts. It was most often messy when she'd drag their asses back to pay their debts. Usually kicking and screaming. Her boots scraped along leaning in front of Mazzy. Her hands gripped the seat behind Mazzy as her body moved more towards her. "No one calls me Babe. You're going to have to pay for that Maz." Barb growled flipping her platinum hair behind her shoulder.

"Huh? Don't get your panties in a twist, I didn't mean anything by it. What're you gonna do? Shoot me?" Mazzy chuckled brushing off Barb's stern tone. Barb removed her hands from the backrest of Mazzy's chair as she tore open her leather jacket revealing her leather bodysuit. "Do you see a gun? I have no more ammo, besides, I wouldn't waste my good bullets on you." Barb bent down this time flicking a few strands of Mazzy's hair from her face. "You need to be taught some manners." Her boot planted beside Mazzy's body to have more leverage.

"Really now? You teach me what? To tie a corset? On the subway really?" Mazzy scoffed brushing this whole thing off. Mazzy thought Barb Wire was just playing her bluff. Knowing her reputation Barb was a very sarcastic person. The lights flickered again leaving them both in the dark for a moment. The lights came on only to see Barb untying the front of the corset with the string in hand. "On the contrary. Babe. You need to learn how to treat your leaders with respect." Barb's hands spun around Mazzys' arms tying her arms behind her back with the string. "What the hell-..."

"Shut up. You talk too much for your own good." Barb's hand laid around Mazzy's throat not moving a single finger. "And I'm going to make sure you learn a lesson." The lights in the subway cart went out again leaving them both in the dark again. Mazzy tried to free herself thinking Barb was not aware. Barb's boot scuffed against Mazzy's soot-covered blue wash jeans. Barb's body leaped onto Mazzy's lap. "Where the hell are you going?" The cart, still dark with the only light coming from the tunnel lights. Barb's hand tilted on Mazzy's neck back. As Barb straightened her back, her leather top dropped to the floor. "The fun is just starting baby." Her bouncy hair covered Mazzy's vision. Her buxom glossy red lips smacked together before landing on top of Mazzy's much smaller lips. They broke for air, Mazzy realizing her cracked lips were coated in Barb's lipstick. Maz saw before her the leader of their resistance straddling her tied-up body. Barb grinned smearing the lipstick all over Maz's face. "There. That'll shut you up." Barb lowered her hand to untie the string of her leather thong. The thong dropped to her knees only sporting fishnets. She stood up kicking the leather thong off, while her hand latched on Maz's shoulder tumbling her down on the seat. Barb unbuckled Maz's belt as she whipped it out of the belt holes. "You don't need this right? Guess not." She hummed as her body crawled on top of Mazzy.

"A?...what? This is your interpretation of a lesson? A sexy strip tease?" Maz joked with little to no confidence. The fear pondered in her brain, what happened to the last person who called her babe? Mazzy stirred under the pressure of Barb's weight, while the seam of her denim jeans loosened around her waist. "You don't know how to shut up, do you? In that case, let me make you scream." Barb's hand crept under Mazzy's jeans to the plain cotton underwear under her denim. Barb's fingers swept down Maz's pubic bone when her finger finally found what she was looking for. In truth, Barb did not want to hurt Mazzy, after, they only just met a brief moment ago. Yes, she was pissed for Maz's remark but she didn't want to do major harm. She thought since they were going to be here a while, and she'd be alone on a plane to Canada when they arrived, perhaps she'd make a little fun out of it. A victory she'd call it.

Mazzy was all out of sorts. She felt drunk even though she didn't drink a drop. A daze; perhaps she hit her head on the way down. Her emotions were out of wack as well. Fear, confusion, even lust. She would never admit she was horny as hell. Yes, Barb Wire is an attractive woman. Especially a gorgeous blondes hovering over her the likes of the infamous Barb Wire.

Her index hovered finally in contact with Mazzy's pulsating clit. Maz's body jumped under Barb's with a muffled noise. "Awe aren't you cute, whining like a little puppy? Come on puppy, let me hear you." Barb switched holding herself up to lay her hand across Mazzy's throat. Her digits curled around Maz's skin piercing sharply. Barb's middle finger crept lower to her center diving deeply into Maz's slickly coaxed fold. Mazzy's stifled noises echoed through the subway cart erupting more loud than metal hitting the rails. Maz's moans were jagged under the blonde. Barb's grip around Mazzy's throat tightened. Not in a hurtful sense, in a sense in which Mazzy feels the most pleasure possible. She had no reason to kill or hurt Mazzy. No personal or finacial gain. Just a thrill.

"Oh-..." Maz's head was spinning. Either from the subway moving or Barb's grip. As Barb began to thrust her middle finger her thumb drifted over the brunette's clit. Barb, smiling ear to ear, bent her head locking her lips to Mazzy's. Her grip still slightly loosened. All of Barb's signature red lipstick smeared across Mazzy's lips. Her tongue locked with Mazzy's briefly without any hesitation to continue the long and rather sloppy mess they both were in. Barb's lips let go raising her head. "Fuck...you keep doing that and I might bring you with me." Her finger twitched inside Mazzy as her thumb circled her erect clit like it was a tiny button. Maz felt the instant feeling that was coming. She was. The feeling was like a rollercoaster. Making it up to the top to climax to crash down on her high. The hot bliss of Maz's core palpitated as it tightened around Barb's finger. She slipped her finger out to peer down at Mazzy's trembling body.

"P-please...Barb!" Mazzy cried out. "K-keep going..." She sighed out in the sense her high was wearing thin. "I think you enjoyed that too much." Her grip around Maz's throat disappeared trailing down her top to the hem of jeans. Both of her hands hooked on either side pulling the denim down past her ankles, over her chunky boots. "I definitely did. Though," Barb threw her platinum blonde up off her shoulders. Her body cascaded lower past Mazzy's knees. Cracking them wide open. "I know you'll enjoy this more." Maz panted, basic whines escaped her lips not fully knowing what would happen next. She had a grasp of what was going on, nothing could ever prepare her. Barb's head ducked into Maz's thighs. Maz's arms have already fallen asleep behind her back from all of her weight. Mazzy bucked once she felt the faint glide of Barb's tongue over her most sensitive area. Her nails dug into Maz's soft thighs.

"Oh god...B-Bar-" Her moan cut through the air louder than all of the others combined. "You're such a good girl." Barb hummed fluttering her tongue deeply into Maz's drenched pussy. The noises of moans and wet sloshes howled through the subway cart. Who knew two women alone could conjure such a racket. Barb's tongue flicked Maz's clit with her body tensing up. Mazzy tried to silence her moans but every breath she took in her moans grew more garish. "Who's my good girl? Huh? Is it you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"I-I'm you're good girl!" Maz spat out tilting her head back on the seat. It stirred back up inside Mazzy's being. The feeling of the rollercoaster. Climbing up to the top. Come crashing down. "Oh god!" She cried tensing every muscle in her back. Barb's nails punctured further into Maz's skin as Maz's moans vibrated the subway cart. Barb perked her bead up crawling back up to greet Mazzy's stained face.

"Haha! Now wasn't that fun?" Barb brushed away tiny strands of hair that sat on Maz's forehead, planting a small kiss in the same area. Mazzy was lost for words, she nodded not finding her voice quite yet.

The subway lights flicked back on to their orangish yellow hue. Barb loosened the strings off Mazzy's arms, reupholstering the string to her corset and thong. "Huh maybe you should join me on that plane-..." Barb's word was cut short as the cart came to a halt. The doors swing open to be greeted by a whole fire squad of the Congressional Council awaiting for us.

"Well fuck...this will be fun."

[hiveworks]

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