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maritotoy · 9 months

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MAUGA X READER (GENDER NEUTRA)

Warning: Violence(Slight) & A bit of swearing

- A Little Bit of Mistake…

You are a part of the team of Overwatch team.

You are a healer and a sniper. This means that if anything ever happens to anyone on this mission, you have to take action fast so they can live. But what about if something happens to you instead? The mission will be compromised, no matter what.

Although you were a skilled healer, some think you were the next Ana, the former army sharpshooter, who is still active out there today.

You’re not sure if it’s because your skills came from Ana or if your abilities evolved in response to your situation. Either way, everyone on this team has been through some shit, so maybe you just need some help too.

Anyway, you're on a mission at the Coral Museum & Learning Center in a museum at Samoa.

It's where you meet your teammates.

The place is crowded with students as well. As you're walking through the exhibit halls, you hear explosion somewhere close by.

The building shakes violently, like it is about to collapse. You see a student running towards you screaming for cover. She bumps into you and falls down as her backpack falls onto the ground with a loud thud. You quickly grab her backpack and lift her up, before she gets hurt.

"Get to the nearest and safest exit," you say. "We have to get you away!" The young lady nods her head before you carry her over to one of the doors. It slides open easily and you quickly usher the girl out, shutting it behind you. After ensuring she is safely on the other side, you ran towards where the explosion had occurred. The area is littered with debris everywhere. Some people lie unconscious on the ground and others seem fine.

The only casualty seems to be an older guy laying motionless on the ground. He looks pretty beat up, but alive. Maybe he'll make it. You quickly run over to him and check his breathing. It's normal. Thank God...

You sighed in relief as you heard gunshots and your teammates' voices yelling from farther in the distance. Good. Now it seems you have found where your team went. Now you just have to go and find them and help them.

Hopefully, that didn't cost too much effort. You just have to hope your friends weren't hurt too badly while you were gone.

With your shotgun in hand, you took off running, towards the direction you heard your friends shouting in. Once you got past the rubble, you saw the group of four fighting against four different Talon soldiers. They were holding back their assailants by using various weapons.

That is impressive.

You admire their teamwork. Their teamwork might have made the difference between their survival and theirs.

You hide into a corner of the room and take aim with your rifle. Your finger tightens around the trigger and you pull, watching as your shot hits a Talon soldier squarely in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground dead immediately. You smile to yourself as you remember what that felt like during training. You don't know why you enjoyed shooting so much, or what it would do to someone else, but right now you were having fun with it. It seemed that every time you pulled the trigger, there was a new person that you shot down.

You hear your teammates calling out for assistance but the Talon soldiers are getting bolder and you can tell they aren't going to give in.

You start reloading your shotgun, which seems to have gotten heavier. Before, you had only managed two bullets each. This time it felt like three. You guess this gun does have more power than it lets on. As you fire multiple shots, more Talons fall on top of their comrades.

It feels exhilarating firing these bullets. Even though they don't seem to affect you directly, it makes you feel powerful in a way that nothing else could possibly do.

When you don't see your enemy anymore, you lower your weapon and ran towards your team as their medical support. They look quite shaken up, but none of them seem to be bleeding anywhere. Thank goodness. You're sure the wound isn't as severe as it seems.

You reach them, ready to assist them.

"Y/N, We still can't back down just yet! Our mission is to stop Talon!" You sigh, but agree with them nonetheless.

It won't do any good to turn tail now. Besides, if you really want to help, you may as well do everything possible. You can handle your own injuries if need be, but they will still be safer here with you instead of being alone. "I will continue to remain vigilant. If something else occurs, I will act accordingly." You reassured. Although you'd rather be doing your job with them, that is your decision to make.

You see them nod in agreement, and they both leave after thanking you profusely for sticking with them through everything, even though things seemed to be getting desperate.

The team continues to fight off the remaining Talon soldiers.

Eventually, one Talon soldier manages to follow you and laughing at the sight of your team members fighting back to back, and then face your back and yours alone as you run.

This gives him the upper hand since he saw you running alone. So, he slowly advances towards you with his two devastating guns.

"HaHa! Coming for ya!" He taunted before raising his gun.

He shoots, but you manage to dodge.

One bullet grazes your arm, making it sting. You hold back your scream and force your adrenaline to push through the pain. You quickly move forward to finish this bastard once and for all.

As you're rushing towards the man, he swings his guns at you and fires several bullets. Luckily, you were able to dodge them, but a few graze your shoulder when you move back.

You try hard not to let that bother you, but it's starting to get harder to keep your composure.

You hide behind one of the fallen buildings, trying to steady your heartbeat.

"Motherf*ck*r..." You whisper to yourself, panting.

At least you were able to dodge most of his shots and his bullets missed you by a wide margin. Still, you were injured by them.

You hear loud footsteps and loud thuds and you were certain it was the guy who's been chasing you.

You peek around the wall, and the man in question appears.

"Hey. Where's the rest of your teammates? I was hoping we could play together," the man smirks, clearly wanting revenge.

His face was covered with dirt and was clearly looking for you, so you decided to stay hidden.

After all, it wasn't worth provoking him. You couldn't afford to risk a fight with him.

A hulking figure with a heavily armored exoskeleton. His imposing presence and intimidating stature make him a force to be reckoned with.

He towers over everyone and almost always has his eyes locked on something specific, including you.

He grins and chuckles before saying, "What's wrong little rabbit? Don'tcha wanna play with me? I know you can fight! Everyone can! Come on, it wouldn't kill you to show me a trick or two." He laughs loudly and raises his arms up. "Come on, show me something amazing~"

You knew better than to fight with a giant, dangerous loose cannon, who is very likely more stronger than you are.

Mauga grins. He takes a step forward to your hiding spot as he lifts up his chaingun, "I know you can do it, little bunny. Show me what you've got~" He smiles widely at you.

You see how much he's enjoying this and he is f*cking annoying in your point of view.

As Mauga was to take another step forward to your hiding spot, you jump up from your spot and attack him in hopes that it will scare the crap out of him.

But unfortunately for you, Mauga doesn't flinch or look scared in the slightest. He simply shrugs your attack off.

As if his body is immune with bullets.

Then he uses his loud and huge jump to knock you back, causing you to tumble down and fall to the ground. You quickly scramble to get your feet underneath you very weakly.

You quickly turn and point your gun at him, aiming at his throat. Unfortunately, he just stands there.

He looks down at your gun and laughs, "Oh no, you little bunny. No need to worry about that. I'm too strong to be killed with a toy gun."

Your eyes opened wide in shock and your gun lowers slightly.

That was a stupid mistake.

"Well then." Mauga begins to move his body closer to you.

You quickly raise your gun and prepare to shoot again but there was a loud earthquake as the building around the two of you shook violently.

A large piece of metal and rocks falls from the ceiling, crashing on top of the two of you.

You feel your head hit the concrete floor hard, causing you to lose your vision momentarily for a second.

Once your vision recovers, two of you were trap under a huge sheet of metal. You begin moving your hands beneath the heavy metal as you try to break free of it. You hear Mauga grunt beside you, and you quickly face him with his leg trapped under the sheet of huge rocks.

Mauga looks up at you with an evil grin on his face as he starts laughing, "Awful, isn't it?" You growl in anger, "Do you not experience even a tiny bit of pain?" you said unbelievably.

"Maybe that's your issue with my game...maybe you shouldn't play my game so often.." He says, obviously enjoying himself.

His laughter makes you even angrier and soon you were trying to get off the huge mess but it was proving difficult with how tightly wedged you were underneath the weight of the sheet of metal and rocks crushing you together. Mauga watches your attempts to break free with amusement as you groan under the immense pressure.

You sighed loudly.

"I hate you." You spit(not literally) at him.

"Yeah, I can tell. That's one hell of a lot of hatred." Mauga replies, amused.

"How is this funny?! Do you understand how horrible you are!?" You shout, frustrated and upset that he was having such great success while you struggled to break free.

"Why don't you ask your teammates about that. Maybe they can teach you some real compassion." Mauga suggests smugly, laughing.

You stared at his smug grin as he laughed and he continued to tease you. You didn't say anything as you just clenched your fists and glared daggers into him. Once the shaking stopped, you removed the pieces of rock that had landed on top of you and looked at him dead in the eye.

You called for help, but there was no response. Your teammates must be far too focused on killing the other Talons and saving the others. Well, fine. They should concentrate on that anyway.

You had bigger problems to deal with anyways.

You exhaled deeply, relieved that at least his leg is stuck in a massive pile of boulders, even if you were both bound together alone on the trapped broken building. As you tried to break out of the debris, your arms began to hurt. The rocks were too heavy for you to lift them up with your physical strength.

"Tch!" You grumble quietly in annoyance as you start to lift up your left arm, pulling at your shoulders and neck. Nothing. It only hurt more. You pull with all your might, trying your hardest to break free, even though that's not really helping at the moment.

"Your trying awfully hard there, little bunny. You think those rocks have grown legs? I don't mind waiting for the right time to make myself known~" Mauga smirks evilly at you and you grit your teeth to try and hold onto the stubborn rocks as long as you can.

But after a couple minutes, you finally give up. It' no use anymore. The rock is too heavy. You sigh dejectedly and stare angrily at the giant man who caused your current predicament.

"You won't last much longer like this." He states.

"No shit. You can keep dreaming, asshole." You sneer at him angrily.

Mauga's smirk grows even wider. "Ahahaha, you're right. You'll be dead within the hour." He chuckles. "But I don't mean that figuratively. Believe me." His sinister voice sends chills down your spine.

He stares. "I'll be quite literal with you, you see, so don't worry."

He stops right in front of you and stares you straight in the eye. His dark, glowing eyes were staring down on you intently, making shivers run up and down your spine. You wanted to look away, but you couldn't. Those eyes were unnerving you and sending a deep sense of fear into your heart.

"Now, let me introduce myself~ My name is Mauga. And you are?" He asked.

He seemed excited to meet you. He wanted to see how strong you are before killing you.

What an Irony.

You shake your head at his stupid question before responding with an answer, "...Y/N." You watch as he tilts his head to one side curiously, "Yes, my name is Y/N. That's all you need to know, asswipe." You spat.

"Wow, such a big mouth." Mauga chuckles. "Let's see, what else should I know about you.."

He pauses and grins. "Oh yes! Let's see. What was your favorite color?" He asks.

You narrow your eyebrows. Why is he asking such random things? Does he seriously want to know about your life story? You're already pretty fucking traumatized by everything going on. It's not like you're gonna talk about the color of my favorite candy bar or the fact that I used to eat marshmallows during the summers. You think.

Before you can respond, he adds, "Hmmm, maybe your favorite season? Spring, summer...Autumn? Winter?"

"Ughhh, why don't you just f*ck off and go die?!" You yell angrily.

He laughs loudly at your choice of words and responds to your comment, "It's pretty rare for a bunny to call me 'F*cker' instead of 'Oi, Handsome~'."

You glare at him and bite your lip as you close your eyes. After few moments, you sigh softly before looking over to Mauga, feeling yourself calm down a little and a small smile forming on your face,

"How is your leg?" You asked, focusing on the rock blocking his leg.

"Not too bad~." Mauga answers happily, clearly pleased with the question.

You fakely snort and roll your eyes lightly. It seems like every word he says is going to piss you off.

"For someone your size, you seem quite weak." He chuckles.

"Is it just your way of talking or do you actually mean that? Because that sounds so f*cking dumb." You reply.

Mauga merely laughs. "Don't you dare insult my words, rabbit...you may think they're pretty silly to me but I swear, when you're as tough as I am, you learn not to judge a book by its cover, ya know?" He responds sarcastically.

You roll your eyes at his stupid remark and huff angrily, "Whatever, idiot. I don't care what you think, I have bigger things to do."

"Like defeat me?" He asks.

"Or kill you." You correct, "But since we're already here, I guess we could try."

The two of you stare each other down with an intense gaze, waiting for the other to make their first move.

Eventually Mauga breaks the eye contact first and laughs, "Good luck~" and his massive frame simply laid there, unconcerned about his leg becoming entangled in the debris.

You glare at him in frustration and then turn your attention back to the huge mess that trapped you with him.

You try to lift it up with all your strength but it wouldn't budge, it was like trying to lift up a mountain.

You let out another frustrated noise and grab one of the small rock nearby and toss it towards Mauga, hitting him on the back.

He seems unfazed, turning to look at you and then grinning, "Ah, come on, don't waste your energy, Y/N~ Just kill me quickly, I'm bored and impatient."

You glare at him again, "You're not getting any pity from me! Not ever." You snap.

You felt your blood begin to boil and you weren't sure whether you were angry at him or at yourself.

There's no telling how badly your injuries are hurting but you're struggling desperately to get these stupid rocks off of him and the ones that trapped you both.

You were a medic, support, and also the team's backup but, even healers like you needs medical assistance too.

You were badly hurt and this time.

YOU COULDN'T HELP YOURSELF.

Mauga sighs and runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head at you, "You're so stubborn, Y/N..."

You scowl at him and continue to struggle, refusing to give in. You didn't want to give up so easily, despite the pain that you're in, but you've never been good at resisting a direct order.

Mauga extends his gigantic arms at Y/N and gestures for her to come forward. You raise your eyebrow at him skeptically and cross your arms in front of your chest, defiantly glowering at him.

"Come now, little bunny," Mauga taunts, "Don't make me force you~."

"Go ahead, make a fool of yourself." You say in a cold tone.

"Very well. Let's see how well you react to pain then." He smirks evily and you instantly feel your body tense up, ready for him to push you aside while he uses his muscular and giant arms to choke you but instead he throws his big hands forward, making you fall on top of him while grunting in surprise.

"Hmph, I knew that would work!" Mauga exclaims triumphantly as he picks you up in ease.

As you sit there, stunned, still dazed from the sudden blow, Mauga holds you against his large body with ease, as if you weighed nothing at all.

He leans down so that his face is only inches away from yours, almost whispering to you so that only you can hear him.

"Do you know what it feels like when you fall into water? It feels like being caught in slow motion and unable to stop, but you can't, either. You can only move your body slowly, but slowly enough so that you don't drown."

Mauga's grin widens into a full blown grin of mischief.

"I don't understand... what does this have anything to do with me?" You whisper back. Mauga chuckles and shakes his head.

"Nothing~ I'm just playing with your mind, Y/N~ You're gonna find out soon enough~." He replies.

He looks directly into your terrified eyes for a brief moment, before he starts laughing hysterically.

"What? I am confused." You ask. He bursts into laughter once more. You look up at him confused, unsure whether he's being serious or not.

"HahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He laughs very loudly that sooner or later the place will crash you both to death, tears beginning to fall from his eyes from the overwhelming laughter, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

His laugh eventually subsides as he wipes away his tears. He glances down at you and smiles, "Don't fret, little bunny! Your death won't be so tragic after all~"

"I'm not dying! And even if I did die, you'll still be alive!" You shout angrily, clenching your fists tightly.

"That's true~ But then again, what's the point in living if I'm still going to have to deal with your pathetic attitude right now. How boring~ I wonder what kind of fun you'd be without this annoying attitude."

He smiles at you, a sickening sweet smile.

The smile makes your skin crawl but you felt your anger start to fade, your heart skipping a beat and your breathing becoming shallow.

The way he was looking at you, you couldn't help but feel vulnerable and exposed.

He takes notice of how quiet you were becoming.

A soft smile forms on his face. "You're finally listening~" His dark tone turns into a sinister chuckle.

"Yes! Now I get it! You're a crazy psychopath!" You scream, throwing your arms in the air exasperatedly. He cackles madly at your reaction.

"Now that was satisfying, little bunny. You really did grow on me!" Mauga continues to laugh.

"Now let' me finish my sentence. I'm sorry about not telling you earlier, I know that you probably thought that I was just trying to annoy you and my leg might be injured but the truth is..." He grins mischievously.

He was trying to hold of his laughter and lifts the huge boulder that had been trapping his leg.

He completely destroyed the boulder into a complete dust making you shock and flabbergasted.

"What the fuck!?" You exclaimed, jumping up onto your feet. You were shocked.

"Well, if you must know, I was saving that for later." He responded smugly, walking toward you, his huge hands reaching for your waist.

You immediately tried to pull away from him but he catches you before you could. Your face goes red and you struggle wildly to get away but to no avail. "Relax, I'll let go of you once you do something I ask~" Mauga said.

"Fuck you." You hissed, glaring daggers at him, "Just give me one reason why I should trust you."

"Because I said so~" He replied, smirking down at you.

"So you were bluffing then.." You mumble, glaring at him.

Mauga shakes his head, "Oh no~ which part? That I lied about killing you or that I'm gonna let go of you anytime soon...?"

You blushed hard but at the same time, your heart started beating faster.

"No. No. No! NO!! YOU ASSHOLE! Don't you fucking dare touch me you perverted bastard!" You yelled, squirming beneath his grasp.

Mauga watched them squirmed, lifting them and smiles as he watched them contently.

END OF PART 1

Please pardon me. I've never published a writing tale on Tumblr before. I'm not sure whether I still have that talent, ughh.

#mauga x reader #maugaloa malosi #mauga overwatch #overwatch mauga #overwatch #first time nko yawa #mauga #ow mauga

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

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Sleight of Hand

[A/N: I DID IT! I finished my Steve x reader undercover op fic, and I kind of love it??? I hope those of you who were looking forward to it enjoy it too 😈🖤 Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this as a full blown fic! Over 5.7k words hehe whoops]

—————

When your former mentor had contacted you about an opening at her coral reef research lab, moving from Camden to Oahu had been a no brainer. You’d packed up your life in New Jersey and been on a plane to the Aloha State within a week. Your favorite cousin, who’s truthfully more like the big brother you always wanted, had been elated to hear the news, welcoming you at the airport with open arms and two simple rules.

“Always answer the phone when I call so you don’t worry me to death,” Danny had said, holding up one finger, “and two,” he added a second, “you’re an adult and you can date anyone on this island-”

“Thank… you?”

“-but stay away from this schmuck.”

The schmuck in question had simply rolled his eyes, draped a beautiful lei around your neck, and greeted you with a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

Your confident promise to your cousin had been broken a whopping two months later- and no, you hadn’t ignored one of his phone calls.

“Did you get me a beer?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, wringing out your wet hair before dropping down onto the bench beside your boyfriend. A quick glance around reveals that Danny’s over by the shrimp truck with Kamekona, and you lean forward to steal a kiss before putting some space between yourself and your favorite brunette.

“I surely did not,” Steve sasses back and takes a swig of his ice cold beverage. “Alcohol and diving do not mix. But I did happen to get a mango smoothie from that one place down the road this pretty girl I know really likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responds, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. “But, uh, she didn’t show, so I guess you can have it.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove, then let out a content hum as you pop the straw through the lid and take a grateful sip. “So good,” you moan in delight, and Steve has to bite his lip to refrain from making a comment when he spots Danny approaching the table with your regular orders.

“Hey, you.” Your cousin greets you with a kiss on the cheek before taking up residence on the bench across from you and Steve. “Why’re you sitting all the way over there, huh? You like that clown better or somethin’?”

“This guy?” you snort, taking your lunch off the tray and rifling through the napkins in search of a fork.

“Ouch.” Steve winces as if burned by your comment, and you surreptitiously squeeze his thigh beneath the table.

“So tell me about this case you’ve got,” you coax your cousin to change the subject, spearing some grilled veggies on the plastic fork’s tines and scooping up a respectable mound of rice on top.

“So there’s a diamond smuggling ring-” Danny starts, and you immediately cut him off with, “Shut up, that doesn’t happen in real life.” You turn to Steve for confirmation, but there’s no provocative arch to his eyebrow or twitching of his lips to suggest this is a joke. “Are you serious right now? BFFR, Danno.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what that means. Why are you making me feel old?”

“Be fucking for real,” you and Steve supply in unison, and you smile proudly at him. “You’re learning!”

“Between you and Gracie, I keep up, okay?”

“Oh, between my baby cousin and my daughter, you- okay, that’s excellent,” Danny proclaims, his tone indicating it’s anything but. “Anyway, they’re using poker games as a cover to uh, collect their product, shall we say.”

“There’s enough rich people on Oahu with actual diamonds?” you ask, incredulous. “And here I am working like a pleb for paper currency.”

“Word,” Steve seconds your statement, raising his beer in a toast. You clink your smoothie against it before taking another refreshing sip and asking, “So how’re you gonna catch them?”

“Well, there’s a high roller tournament on Friday night that we’re betting they’ll hit. We wanted to go in undercover and flush them out but…” Steve trails off and gazes at you thoughtfully, but Danny’s shaking his head before the words have even formed on the brunette’s lips.

“No, absolutely not. Don’t even think about it, Steve.”

“What?” You turn to him, excitement coursing through your veins at the way his eyes have lit up. “Think about it! And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You could go undercover with me to the tournament, help me gather some intel. Maybe we get you to confirm the diamonds are actually in their possession and-”

“No!” Danny chimes in again. “What’s the matter with you, huh? These guys have killed two people, Steve. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“First off, fuck that-”

“Language.”

With an eye roll, you amend, “Forget that. More importantly, shouldn’t Danny go undercover? You kind of suck at poker, Steve.” You feel a sharp pinch at your side and you yelp in protest, slapping at the Navy SEAL. “It’s true, you little-”

“You’re not going,” Danny says definitively. “What about Tani?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tani and Junior have already questioned two of the men involved. They’ll be made before they even get to the table.”

You cross your arms and level your cousin with a smirk. “Sounds like you need me, Danno.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he declares.

“Yeah, no, hard pass,” you backpedal. “Even as a former thespian, there’s no way I can convincingly play arm candy for you without it being weird.”

“So, it’s settled then, little Williams,” Steve says with a grin. “You and me. Friday night. The high roller table at the Ilikai Hotel.”

__________

“This whole affair is giving very much Ocean’s Thirteen,” you remark as you lean into the mirror to line your puckered lips with Devil’s Den red. “The diamond heist, the poker game… it’s all so exciting.”

“Except this isn’t Hollywood and a bullet will actually hurt,” your cousin ever so graciously reminds you, trying to tug the slit ends of your dress together and then grunting in displeasure when the action reveals more of your bare back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me with this dress, babe,” he tuts. “Why’s it so expensive if it’s missing half the fabric, huh?”

You shrug and answer with a smile, “Don’t ask me! Your buddy picked it out.”

“Oh yeah, I bet he did,” Danny grumbles under his breath. “I mean, you’d be the most beautiful woman in the room if you were wearing a paper bag, but this- this dress-”

“Danno,” you laugh, completing the finishing touches on your makeup before turning around to squeeze his shoulder. “Remember one of the first things you said to me when I stepped off the plane?”

“Don’t date Steve?” he offers hopefully with a grimace.

That ship has sailed and it’s not docking anytime soon, you think wryly. “No, you goofball,” you respond instead, “that I’m an adult. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Alright, okay, but just- just promise me you’ll be smart tonight and play it safe.”

With three fingers held aloft, you answer solemnly, “I promise.”

“And don’t let Steve talk you into doing something stupid, okay? No honeypot insanity or trying to sneak into rooms or anything, you got it?”

You press your lips to your cousin’s cheek and then wipe away the smudged lipstick. “Relax, Danny. The man’s a former SEAL. What could possibly go wrong?”

You open the door of the en-suite bathroom with a small smirk tugging at your lips as Danny splutters on behind you in answer to your incendiary question.

As soon as your stiletto touches down on the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room, you’re hit with an enthusiastic, “Woah, baby!”

“You like?” you ask with a grin, holding your arms out at your sides and giving Tani a spin to show off the dress.

Tani laughs appreciatively and lets out a low whistle. “You are smokin’ hot. I am looking… disrespectfully,” she concludes after pretending to mull over her word choice. She sneaks a glance over at her boss who’s trying and failing to draw his gaze away from the high slit that’s showing off a majority of your leg, then steps closer to you and drops her voice. “And I’m not the only one.” You shush your friend quickly and she ducks away from your playful smack with another peal of laughter.

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, practically sporting heart-eyes as he drinks in the black silk hugging every curve of your body. His piercing blue eyes blaze a trail of heat from the stilettos on your feet to the low bun your hair is swept into, and you feel your skin grow warm under his attention.

“You look pretty wow yourself,” you remark, appreciating the smart tux he’s donned, the perfectly tailored suit accenting every defined muscle on his powerful body. The blush on your face deepens when your gaze meets his, catching a glimpse of a hungry predator on the prowl.

“No, but you, Y/N,” Steve counters, his voice a low growl, “you just- I mean- wow.” He looks ready to pounce, and you’re positive he would forego the event in lieu of spending the evening in bed if there wasn’t a case riding on your performance tonight- and your cousin who you’re keeping your relationship a secret from less than a foot away.

Danny snaps in his face, directing the brunette’s attention to him. “Don’t you gawk at her like that. Paws off my baby cousin, you hear me? Better use the right head tonight, Steven, I swear.”

You dart your eyes over to your boyfriend and make an intentionally obscene gesture with your hands, indicating which head you’re thinking about. He covers up his laugh with a cough, then hurries to reassure his partner. “Danno, c’mon. I’m a perfect gentleman. Aren’t I, Y/N?”

“You’re an animal, is what you are,” your beloved cousin continues his tirade, answering for you. “Just remember I’m watching, huh? I’ve got eyes on all the cameras.”

“Alright, people, focus now,” Lou admonishes gently, handing you and Steve small communications devices that you fit snugly into your ear, out of plain sight. “Y’all remember the plan?”

“Stand there and look pretty. Don’t get shot at,” you dutifully list off your objectives for the op with an exaggerated waggling of your eyebrows while Steve tests the microphone tucked away in his bow tie. “As an unofficial member of Five-0 now, do I get a gun?”

“Are you insane?” Danny cries as Steve asks, genuinely, “Where would you even hide a gun in that dress?”

Unable to resist, you shoot him a coy smile and challenge, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Commander?”

“Woah.” Your cousin holds his hands up between the two of you and declares, “Flag on the play. Don’t- Don’t do that. No flirting. Get in, entice Lee to steal your fake diamonds, get out. Deal?”

“We’ve got it, Detective,” Steve huffs, bending down to adjust his ankle holster.

Junior approaches then with a gorgeous looking diamond necklace and announces, “Got our bait here, boss.”

“Excellent,” Steve says, taking the jewelry from him and motioning for you to turn around. He gathers the necklace in one hand, his fingers drifting across your shoulder and collarbone to grasp one end before he fits it snugly around your neck. The simple touch has your veins flooding with heat, but you tamp down your reaction, keenly aware of the multiple sets of eyes on the two of you. “Tight enough?” he murmurs, and you nod in response, not yet trusting your voice.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Lou reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, opening it with a flourish to reveal one simple silver band, the other studded with diamonds. “Little extra bling for good measure.” Your cheeks flush at the sight, and you turn your face away from Steve while you slide the wedding ring onto your finger.

One glance at its mate on your boyfriend’s hand has you weak in the knees, and Tani whispers, “Girl, you are down bad.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, fighting the blush threatening to give you away. Steve approaches with one eyebrow raised in curiosity, and you clear your throat before taking the arm he’s offered to you. You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow, pressing yourself close to him and sending a sharp look to your older cousin when you feel his eyes boring holes into the two of you. “Knock it off, Danny.”

He cups your face between his hands and pulls you closer to press a kiss to your forehead with an apologetic smile. “Be smart. Be safe. I love you. You watch her back, okay?” He directs the last comment to his best friend with all the gruffness of a father sending his daughter off to prom.

“I will, Danny,” Steve answers solemnly, squeezing your hand.

“Alright, buddy. But not too close, okay? Remember, I’m always watch-”

You pull the door shut behind you with a sigh. Steve guides you down the hallway towards the elevators, and your grip on his arm tightens at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Steve immediately intuits your nerves and offers a soothing, “Hey, you’re okay.” He takes your left hand in his, his right hand coming to rest on the small of your back so you feel completely enveloped by his steadying presence. He lets his thumb drift back and forth across your skin, just above where the fabric drapes at the base of your spine, and your comms come crackling to life. “Higher.”

Steve shifts his hand up with a chuckle, and your cousin begrudgingly remarks, “Better.”

The moment relieves some of your tension, and you shake your head before pressing the call button for the elevator. The lavish gold doors open to reveal an already sizable group dressed to the nines and clearly heading to the big casino-sponsored event downstairs. Steve applies gentle pressure on your back to guide you into the elevator, and as you descend each floor and the crowd grows, you’re forced closer together in the corner. “You’re wearing a new perfume,” Steve comments, his lips right by your ear to avoid your conversation being picked up by his mic.

“How observant,” you reply. “My boyfriend bought it for me.”

“He has excellent taste,” he continues the charade, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the compliment. With the crowd in the elevator blocking the camera’s view, Steve allows his fingers to glide down your spine until they reach their intended destination, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under your dress. You smirk to yourself but quickly lose the upper hand, forced to swallow down a gasp when the elevator doors open into the lobby and Steve brazenly palms your ass while calmly stating, “Target acquired.”

“We see him, too,” Junior affirms. “East corner of the lobby, talking to the concierge.”

“Come on, darling,” Steve croons, settling into character- or rather dropping your usual act. “Let’s go win me some more money to spend on you.”

__________

“No entry without invitation, sir.”

You crane your neck to look up at the beefy bodyguard at the entrance to the high roller section. His biceps must be the size of your head, if not bigger, he’s got at least 6 inches on Steve, and his hulking form is completely blocking your view of the room behind him.

“Honey,” you murmur, “you brought it with you, didn’t you?”

Steve gives you an easy smile and pulls a gold-plated poker chip from the breast pocket of his tux. “Of course, my love.”

“Alright, enough with the cutesy nicknames,” Danny gripes, and you’re forced to stifle a laugh at Tani admonishing him in the background. The security guard pulls back the velvet rope to let you pass, and you duck behind the curtain to cross into the high roller area.

The room is a sea of expensive suits and sparkling cocktail dresses. A thick cloud of sweet-smelling smoke has settled in the air from the Cubans lit around the room, and the distinct symphony of ice clinking in glass tumblers joins the hum of dealers murmuring at their tables.

“Why don’t you go get us a drink and I’ll find a table to join?”

“The usual?” you purr in question, running your manicured fingers across the lapel of Steve’s suit.

“That’s perfect,” he assents, squeezing your hip before releasing you to do your own recon. Then you feel his fingers lace through yours and he murmurs, “Y/N, wait.” When you turn back to Steve, he tugs you closer by your connected hands and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has your head buzzing before a drop of alcohol has even hit your tongue. “Lee’s watching,” he whispers against your mouth by way of explanation.

“Then let’s give him something to look at,” you respond with a glint in your eye, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Steve’s left hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck as the other caresses the diamond fitted snuggly against the hollow of your throat, making sure that it catches the light just so as you lay the groundwork for your operation tonight.

“He’s practically suffocating her,” Danny cries in the hotel room upstairs, hands raised while he stares at the two of you in disbelief. “What’d I say about ‘not too close’, huh? Animal.”

“Okay, lovebirds, get some air,” Lou chuckles over your comms. “Seems like our man Lee has his eye on the prize now.”

Junior leans over to Tani as he watches the two of you part ways on screen, tracking your path to the bar with a skeptical brow. “Is it just me, or was that… intense?”

“C’mon, Junes,” she laughs breezily. “That is theater at its finest.”

“One scotch on the rocks, and one vodka tonic that’s light on the tonic,” you place your order at the bar, absentmindedly letting your fingers drift over the diamonds as you peruse the top shelf.

“Easy there, cowgirl,” Danny coaches in your ear. You look around for the nearest mounted dome camera and make a face at it. “Real mature, kid.”

You feel a heated gaze on your back, and you turn to flash a coy smile at Mister Jason Lee, the suspected brains behind the smuggling operation, before collecting your drinks and making your way back to Steve.

“He’s interested,” you murmur in his ear as you bend down to place the glass between his hands on the table. “But we need to really hook him. Better start throwing some money around, hotshot.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says animatedly, attracting the attention of the other players around the table. He makes a big show of closing his eyes and letting you bet for him, clearly unaffected by winning or losing a few hundred on your blind faith. As you lean over to push a stack of chips towards the pot, you hear an appreciative titter around the table and turn to find Steve with one eye very obviously peeking- but definitely not at what your hands are doing.

“Naughty boy,” you scold playfully, and he offers his palms in an act of mock deference.

“Can you blame the man?” one of the other players barks out through a raucous laugh, and you smile politely even though their leering eyes make your skin crawl. When you bend to retrieve your drink, Steve moves closer with a grin and whispers in your ear, “If one of them so much as breathes in your direction, I’ll break off every one of their fingers and feed them to ‘em, okay, mama?”

Acutely aware that Danny and the rest of the team are watching your every interaction, you suppress a shiver and murmur back, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve has mixed luck on his first few hands, but you’re sure to make a big show of celebrating each win with a kiss that has the older women in the room clutching their proverbial pearls and Lee hanging onto your every move. You toy with the necklace as a nervous habit each time Steve places his bet and let your fingers trail across his broad shoulders as he studies each hand, squeezing affectionately every now and then.

“I hate this,” Danny declares, a dismayed frown tugging at his lips as he watches you on the live CCTV footage. On the small screen, you drape your arms around Steve’s neck and press a kiss to his cheek before murmuring something in his ear that’s too quiet for the hidden mic to pick up but has Steve grinning like a fool. “I hate this. Why did I let him talk me into this? Putz.”

“Relax, Danny,” Lou attempts to soothe his ruffled feathers. “They’re doing great.”

“Hey, hey, look!” Tani calls to garner their attention. “They’ve lured Lee in. He’s about to make contact.”

“Good evening,” he opens politely, pulling out the chair next to Steve.

“Evening,” your boyfriend offers in kind.

“Do you mind if I join you for the next hand?”

“Not at all,” you purr. “Perhaps you can help break my husband’s current losing streak.”

“With a good luck charm like you on his arm?” Lee counters smoothly. “Impossible.”

“From your mouth to the cards’ ears,” you laugh airily. “Let me go get you another drink, my love,” you say to excuse yourself, running your hand down Steve’s arm to collect his glass. “Can I get you anything, Mister…?”

“Good girl,” Tani praises you quietly over your comms.

“Lee,” he supplies. “But please, call me Jason.” He raises the remaining amber liquid in his glass with a smile then says, “Perhaps when I finish this drink, I’ll have what your husband’s having. Clearly he’s got excellent taste.” The way his eyes wander across your body isn’t lost on you.

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Lou scoffs to his fellow team members upstairs. “Not even using an alias.”

Steve notices Lee’s hungry gaze straying from his cards to appreciate your form against the backdrop of the expansive bar and remarks, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” he agrees, swirling the expensive liquor in his glass before taking a sip. “Women like that are hard to find. As rare as that diamond around her neck.”

“Laying it on thick there, buddy,” Danny comments over your comms, and you steal a glance over to the table. “Take the bait, Steve.”

“Only the finest for my girl.”

When you return to the table with your and Steve’s drinks in hand, he hooks his ankle around the chair beside him and tugs it close for you to sit by him. “Slick move, double-oh-five-oh,” you murmur appreciatively in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. He seems extra possessive now, his hand either resting on your thigh, or your hip, or the back of your neck, always maintaining some form of skin to skin contact while the other holds his cards, and you can’t help but wonder what transpired between the two men.

Leaning over, Steve presses his lips to the point where your pulse thrums along your throat and asks, “What should we bet, beautiful girl?”

“Hm?” Your gaze is hazy, more so drunk on Steve’s touch than alcohol, and the unbidden thought that you can’t wait for this guy to be in cuffs so you can take your man home crosses your mind. You run your manicured fingers down his cheek and answer coyly, “I want you to go all in.”

The two of you dutifully ignore Danny’s protesting in your ears at your overt innuendo as Steve pushes his stack of chips to the center of the table.

“A bold move,” Lee declares with a whistle.

“What’s a few thousand when I have a million on my arm, hm?” your boyfriend counters with a sly glance in your direction.

“Let’s make this a real game. I’m all in, too.”

The dealer flips over the river card, and Steve’s arm tenses beneath your fingertips. The other few players around the table toss their cards aside with a sigh, but Lee looks over at the two of you with a grin, presenting his hand- a flush- with a flourish. He stands to collect the pot but Steve holds up one finger.

“Not so fast, my friend,” he laughs, his confidence making your body grow warm. Steve lays his hand out on the table with a smug smile. “Full house. Aces over eights.”

You let out an excited squeal, genuinely delighted at such a triumphant win, and pull Steve toward you by the lapels of his jacket to mold your lips to his. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat and his hand comes up to cup your neck in an overtly possessive manner that has you melting into his embrace. You feel his fingers playing with the clasp resting at the nape of your neck, and then the necklace falls into your lap, the next phase of your ruse in full effect now.

You pull back with a gasp and pout at Steve, your eyes wide. “It broke!”

“Then I’ll buy you ten more,” he answers easily, shrugging off your concern. “Go put it upstairs and don’t give it a second thought, okay?” He presses his lips to yours once more and gives you an affectionate pat below the dip of your dress when you stand that has you blushing. You can practically feel Danny’s laser eyes through the screen where he’s watching you.

You make sure to wobble the tiniest bit when you move, steadying yourself on Steve’s shoulder with a laugh. “What was our room number, honey?”

He shares a knowing look with your mark, then jokes, “How many vodka tonics have you had, hm? How many fingers am I holding up?” He has his fist raised and you smack at his chest with an eye roll. “217, my love,” Steve supplies before taking your hand and kissing the wedding band adorning your ring finger.

You head upstairs to the empty room the team had rented for this very purpose and place the necklace in the carefully concealed safe in the cupboard. When you return to the table, you find Steve alone.

“Where’s our friend?”

“Turned in for the night after that big loss,” your boyfriend supplies, winking at you. “Shall we?”

He offers you his arm, and after collecting his winnings, the two of you make your way to the lobby to lie in wait. “You’re going to be insufferable about that win forever now, aren’t you?”

“You said I was bad at poker,” Steve reminds you.

“You still are,” you fire back. “Dumb luck one time does not a skilled player make.”

“Jeez, boss,” Junior’s voice comes crackling in over your comms. “Want some ice for that burn?”

“Would you just- would you shut up and focus on the room, please?”

After a few minutes of waiting with no sighting of Lee, you lean into Steve’s chest and ask the team, “Anything?”

“Girl, hop off the mic,” Lou admonishes you, and you jump back from Steve. “We can hear you when you talk normally. Damn.”

Leaning back in, this time you whisper, “Sorry, guys.”

“Hey, McGarrett?” Tani speaks calmly but you can hear an edge of tension to her voice. “At your 4 o’clock, there’s two guys in suits who’ve had an eye on your table all night. I thought they were watching for potential card counting but they seem to have taken an interest in you and Y/N.”

“Copy,” Steve says quietly, pulling you closer to his body in a protective move in case all hell breaks loose.

“Let’s just show them we’re not a threat,” you offer.

“You want to go back in?”

“I was thinking of a more… hands on approach.” As the clicking of Italian leather shoes on the polished floor grows closer to you, you spin Steve around and push him against the wall, crashing into him for a heated kiss. His strong hands caress your bare back for a moment before one stays put to hold you against him while the other deftly undoes the knot holding your bun, your hair cascading down to its full length so Steve can use it for better leverage. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as he kisses you like a man starved until you’re shaken from your stupor by yelling approaching the lobby.

“Hey! Five-0! Stop running, dumbass!”

Without opening your eyes or breaking your kiss, you stick your foot out at the opportune time, making contact with the ankle of your diamond thief’s leg so he goes sprawling. There’s a faint splash to your right, and when you pull away for a breath, you can see your necklace winking at you from the lobby fountain.

Danny catches up to the scene and yells, “Hands- hey! Hands!”

Lee raises his hands above his head with a sigh, but your cousin continues on, “You two! Yeah, let me see your hands, too!” You turn to find Danny’s gun aimed at the diamond smuggler, but his fiery eyes are trained on you while Tani and Junior wrestle the other two lackeys to the floor nearby. You exchange a look with Steve, then feel the warmth of his palms leave your bare skin as the two of you slowly raise your hands as well. Clearing your throat, you offer meekly, “We’re really into method acting?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Danny growls, slapping zip ties on a defiant Lee and ratcheting them tight before hauling him to his feet.

“Hey, man, ease up,” he whines and Danny barks, “You shut up.” He continues lamenting his woes audibly as he leads the thief to the waiting squad car, grumbling, “Had enough of all of you. My baby cousin and my best friend. Christ. What am I gonna tell my aunt?”

Steve whistles low under his breath when Danny’s out of earshot, then mutters, “That could’ve gone better.”

“On the plus side,” you comment, “he still referred to you as his best friend.”

Tani shoots you a sympathetic smile when she passes by with the man she apprehended, but Junior wastes no time leaning in and playfully tutting, “Bus-ted.” Steve raises one eyebrow and he tacks on a hurried, “Sir.”

—————

With Lee and his crew stewing in interrogation and HPD clearing the scene, you’re left sitting on the couch in Steve’s office like kids who got sent to the principal for misbehaving in school. The three of you must look ridiculous from the rest of the team’s point of view- you clad in spare clothes from Steve’s wardrobe in his office that you’re positively swimming in, your 40-plus-year-old boyfriend in a full tux with his bow tie and top few buttons undone, hand pressed over his mouth to avoid saying something that will further incense your cousin, and said cousin still dressed in his shirt and tie pacing the floor in front of you with his hands flying to emphasize every point he makes.

“And you-” Danny pauses his pacing to point an accusatory finger at his best friend. “How old are you, huh?” The finger changes angles to point at you. “And how old is she?”

“Do you want me to actually answer the quest-”

“No, Steve, they’re rhetorical questions! I know how old you are, and I’ll tell you! Too old for my baby cousin, that’s how old, huh? What’s the matter with you?”

“Why don’t you let Y/N speak for herself, Danny? Gotta let her grow up, buddy, c’mon now.”

“Thank you!” you cry. “Can I say something?”

The blonde and brunette duo turns to look at you with the same infuriating, incredulous look before simultaneously deciding, “No.”

“Alright, y’know what?” You slap your hands against your thighs and stand with a huff. “You two-” You point back and forth between Steve and Danny before continuing, “You work out your little marital spat. Daniel, when you’re ready to talk to me like the adult I am, I’ll be with Tani. After I drink some water. Because I’m still buzzed.” With that, you attempt to walk out of your boyfriend’s office with your head held high but are thwarted by the door, pushing on it to no avail.

“It’s a pull-” Danny says quietly, and Steve jumps in at the same time, “Pull, babe, you gotta pull on the-”

“I got it,” you bark at them, tugging on the glass door with a grumble about architectural intuitiveness.

After a long conversation with Steve and a short interrogation with Lee and his associates, Danny finds you nursing a bottle of water in Tani’s office, as promised. She slips out as your cousin takes a seat next to you, pulling you into a hug that you allow yourself to melt into even though you mutter all the while under your breath about his overprotective nature.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t just tell me you were seeing Steve.”

Woah. What?

“What?” Danny laughs. “You were right. We should talk about this like adults.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“The ‘Woah. What?’? Yeah, you did, babe, it was very much not an inside thought.”

“Excellent,” you laugh, nodding solemnly. “Well, um, thank you for that. And sorry for not coming out and just telling you.”

“Guess I made it pretty hard for you to tell me, huh? What with the two rules and-”

“Yup.”

“But everybody else knew or-”

“Tani knew, cause she’s my girl, y’know. Grace figured it out pretty quickly. Pretty sure Lou’s had a feeling since at least Thanksgiving, honestly.”

Danny sits back with a start, pulling away from your hug. “How long has this been going on?”

With a sigh, you realize it’s time to come clean. “You remember when I wanted to go on that dive with you, and you said I should take Steve since you don’t ‘do water’? Well, Steve took me to this really beautiful dive spot and we kind of made a day of it so…”

“That was like-”

“A while-”

“Like seven months ago!”

“I mean, we didn’t exactly start dating on that day- well, no, we kind of did,” you correct yourself quietly, biting your lip with a grimace, but Danny’s already halfway across the floor back to Steve’s office. Lou takes the opportunity to poke his head in to check on you and you draw out a slow, “So Lou…�� He raises one eyebrow in question, and you dare to ask, “Would now be a bad time to tell Danny about Will and Grace?”

—————

Tagging you beautiful people who commented for me to finish writing this 🖤

@the-silentium @ilovewriting06 @jamie2305 @kelssssxd @cassadilasworld

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chipperchemical · 12 days

Note

21 and majorwood?

Martyn/Scott - a kiss to shut them up

word count: 456

A/N: i've never written Martyn OR Scott before, but i tried my best! set in Limited Life :)

request prompts are here!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"So..." Martyn drew out with a playful tone, "What're you getting me for my birthday?"

Scott sighed -- something he seemed to do a lot around Martyn -- and stopped rifling through his chests to turn and look at his other Mean Gill. Martyn was sitting lopsidedly across their storage, a smug grin on his face to emphasise his sharp teeth and a glint of mischief in his eyes. It was nearing the end of the day, orange glow of the sun already reflecting on the ocean surrounding them, and Martyn was still on this.

"For the last time, Martyn," Scott crossed his arms, "The only gift you need is being with me."

The words had barely even left his mouth before a look of faux-betrayal crossed Martyn's face, his mouth hanging open in a gasp and his hand now on his chest in shock. He had done this about twenty times today, if Scott was counting correctly.

"But- But it's my birthday..." Martyn whined out, lacing his voice with hurt that didn't really exist, "How are you going to deprive the birthday boy of his birthday gifts? You're cruel, Scott! Cruel!"

Rolling his eyes, Scott turned around and continued to ignore his stupid boyfriend, but he just kept talking: "You're taking away the only joy I have left in this world... First I turn red-" Martyn gestured to his winding red coral, "-Then I can't even celebrate my birthday!"

The words were endless. Scott was almost impressed at how much waffle one man could manage without running out of breath. Even with his blatant ignoring, he just kept babbling on about birthdays and gifts and how mean his boyfriend was for this and and and...

He finally had enough. Scott slammed the chest shut and spun on his heels, walking with intent towards Martyn, who still didn't falter in his rambling. With an air of confidence and mild annoyance about him, Scott grabbed Martyn by the collar of his shirt and slammed their lips together.

Martyn's muffled yelp vibrated against Scott's lips before he eventually quietened down and relaxed into the kiss. His hands found their way to be tangled in Scott's soft blue hair, and in return he felt gentle hands wrapping around his back and fiddling with the back of his neck. They both moved impossibly closer and settled into each other comfortably and familiarly.

Eventually, Scott pulled away yet left his hands to linger around Martyn. It was the first time he had ever looked down at his boyfriend like this, since he was still sitting on their chests, and he was beautifully quiet.

"There's your stupid birthday present." Scott laughed at Martyn's flustered expression, even if it was only temporary, "Now shut up."

#majorwood #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #trafficshipping #fanfiction #chipper og posts #mwarch

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maesphantoms · 2 years

Text

Sunset (Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood. Typical COD violence. Guns, knives, explosions.

Genre: Pure angst…like just so much pain

Word count: 2,445

This was partly inspired by a certain character’s death in Grey’s Anatomy, I won’t say who because I know there’s at least one person who hasn’t seen it and really wants to/is in the process of getting to that episode.

It all started after a particularly hard mission, a mission where you had to get wasted to even hope to get the images out of your mind to sleep. You randomly remembered that there are biodegradable urns that have tree seeds in them.

"And when I told my cousin, he goes 'Do they have walnut? That way, one day if my grandkids are eating them, someone can say they're eating Grandpa's nuts?' And it just made me die laughing."

"Do they?" Soap asked, eagerly. Gaz simply roared with laughter while Ghost and Price chuckled.

"No, sadly. I looked everywhere. But, I did find that you can become a coral reef."

"Is that what you'd want, a coral reef?" he asked, earnestly.

"No..." You paused, taking a swig of your drink. "No, I think... I think I'd want to be buried on a hill. A hill with a gorgeous view. Facing the west... So I can always watch the sunset."

That's about all you remember of that night, other than the drinking contest you quickly got into with Soap and Gaz. Price and Ghost simply sat back and watched, smoking their respective cigars and cigarettes. You certainly got everyone's minds off the horror you all had faced that day. Even Ghost no longer had the screams echoing in his mind as he sipped his bourbon. it was just one of the nights the men were grateful for your presence.

Something you'd never let them know is how terrified you were that they would have to utilize that information. You didn't want to put the burden of having to deal with your death and body on them. The day you would eventually die was coming, you know that. Your luck would eventually run out, everyone does. You've seen your fair share of soldiers KIA'd. The look on their squad's face as they hauled the limp body always filled you with dread. You just hoped that if you did die on the field, your body couldn't be found so that you would never imagine that picture of dread on your squad mates’ faces. Especially the image of Price feeling like he failed you.

This always ran through your mind as you prepared for missions. It wasn't until you were active in the field that your more soldier, focused mindset would take over. You did your best to hide the nerves, but it's hard to disguise your shaking when you got into the plane or helicopter or whatever your mode of transportation would be that day. It was worthless, you knew that, but just the mental picture of everyone’s despair as they covered your body in that damn cloth... No, you wouldn't let that happen.

“Okay, we’re nearly there. We’ll split into 2 teams. Each team goes to a separate floor, then once your floor is clear we meet and go to the basement. Ghost and Owl are top floor. Gaz and Soap, you're with me on the first. This is a hostage rescue so check fire. If you run into any cartel, well.. You know what to do.” Price stood by the door to the plane, holding onto the webbing. “Alejandro and his team are at the other compound, we all attack at the same time.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you could feel your hands shaking as you gripped your rifle tighter. Closing your eyes, you mentally pictured the blueprints of the compound you all were looking at before you left. Alejandro informed you all about the village taken hostage to be forced to work for some cartel, clearly trying to become a notable rival for Valeria. Foolish. You were sure Valeria was keeping a close eye on today. No matter how this ends, she would be one foe down.

Ghost lightly knocked his knee into yours. He knew your jitters would settle once you touched solid ground, but he always tried to pull you out of your mind. Now, he never knew exactly why you did this. Clearly, the preemptive guilt that was permeating from your pores didn't carry across your face, just the nervousness. You would gladly die to protect your small band of brothers.

And just like that, the plane settled and the tremors that wracked your system came to a stop. Ghost watched your face harden into the familiar look of focus and determination he was used to seeing on the field. With one last look, Price and his team ran to the compound. If it could even be called that. The blueprints were old, you knew that, but you didn't expect to see how in disrepair the building was. The walls that once surrounded it had crumbled away long ago, riddled with bullet holes. You could see that the building itself wasn't much better. Entire rooms had already collapsed. One such room provided the two of you with an easy route to the top floor rather than the original plan of running to the stairs inside.

With a tap on Ghost’s shoulder, you pointed to the rubble. He nodded and you both ran towards it. Your ears were helping scope out any noise other than the occasional scuffle of more of the building falling. You two had to be quick if any more of this gave way. In the back of your mind, you pictured their faces again, holding your lifeless body.

“Do you see anything, Gaz?” Price asked over comms.

“No, sir. They must all be upstairs.”

Ghost nodded at you before pulling himself up to the room above, you following suit. The sunlight was just enough to let you see that the room was the remains of a classroom. There were cubbies in the corner and smeared on the chalkboard was the alphabet. Your blood felt like ice. There were children here. At one point or another. Once again, you steadied yourself as you joined Ghost at the door.

He held up his fingers, 3, 2, 1. Slowly, you opened the door and held up your rifle. The door opened up into a hallway. You knew from the blueprints that either end of the hallway lead into another one. The U-shaped building seemed to have the same layout at least, even if it was decrepit. The classroom was closer to the right side, so Ghost pointed for you to take that side while he took the left. This wasn't unusual to you, it was faster to clear this way. Ghost could clear his side and meet you on yours as his legs were longer than yours, and his stride was quicker.

“Price, there's people in here.” Soap’s voice on comms made you jump in the eerily quiet hallway as you slowly headed towards the next door. Why were you so jumpy? Something on the edge of your mind told you you were in danger. Of course, you were in danger, look at where you were.

As you opened the door, you heard a faint scream then Soap’s voice, attempting to be soothing. Leading with your gun, you look around the room and only saw desks and turned-over chairs. Clear. You could see another room before the corner. Same procedure. Walk over, open door. This one was empty, the daylight shining off the dirty floors. It looked like there was dried blood on the floor. Clear. Going back into the hallway, you turned the corner and saw 3 more rooms.

The first room had a long conference table in it and every window was smashed. Clear. Second, a single chair and more dried blood. Clear. The downstairs team worked to get the hostages out of the building, Price calling backup as there were more than Alejandro predicted.

“Left side, clear. There were a few cartels up here. Owl?” Ghost grumbled.

“I'm opening the last door now. Everything’s been empty, so far. They must have hidden them all downstairs and left guards.” Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, “Wonder how Alejandro’s is.”

Taking one step into the room, you were greeted with a horrific sight. 10 children, all huddled together at the back of the room. A man stood in front of them with a sickening smile. He held a button in his hands. You raised your gun at him.

“Fuck, there's kids he-” You were cut off as he hit the button, and you were thrown back.

The explosion violently shook the building. The downstairs team had just walked out with their last hostage who whipped out a knife and stabbed a small woman as soon as he heard the boom. Gaz immediately shot him. Then hysteria burst out of everyone. The woman screamed then cut off into a gurgle before falling silent. The remaining men and women began screaming and crying. Price immediately began yelling for you and Ghost. Then the right side of the building shuddered with another explosion before collapsing.

“Bloody fucking hell! Owl! She's on that side!” Ghost yelled, coughing from the dust that engulfed the entire floor. Price felt a small wave of relief at his voice to be taken over with panic.

You felt heat. Heat and pain. Your head swam, trying to understand what was happening. Distantly, you heard yourself talking about urns and nuts. Then you heard Gaz’s voice.

“Who do you think would cry the most at your funeral?” He grinned.

“Hmm... Probably Ghost.” You pointed to the man who glared back. “I feel like he's a big softie. Deep down.”

“Very deep down.” He scowled before taking another drag of his cigarette, his mask pulled up to his nose.

“Exactly.” You laughed. “And I think Soap would be next, but he'd try to fight it. I mean look at him, all macho and Scottish.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He raised his hands, offended.

“No idea, just had to get a dig in.”

Smoke billowed out of the campfire and into your face. Your lungs burned. You couldn't feel your legs as the laughs fade. Then you could hear voices again. Distant, panic-stricken voices. There was massive pressure on your abdomen and legs. Fuck, everything hurt.

“Can you see her?”

“No..”

“Keep looking, we need to find her before it completely collapses, the fire is moving fast.”

Your eyes finally came back to you, but your vision blurred and spun. Then you could feel control come back to your arms. One was trapped under whatever pressed against you. As you finally broke free of the stupor, a blood-curdling scream was ripped from your throat. Pain was everywhere. Nothing was worse than your abdomen. Looking down, you could see why as blood began to fill your mouth. Fear took over.

“Owl, can you hear me?!”

“Ghost...” You could bring your voice to louder than a whisper. Looking around, all you could see was rubble and smoke. The crackle of flames was somewhere around you. The large slab of concrete on you kept you from moving. Tears began to fall down your face.

“Owl!” He yelled again before pressing the button on his chest again. “Price I can't find her, do you guys see anything?”

Price, Soap, and Gaz dug through the rubble on the ground floor. Smoke billowed out from the broken windows and holes in the building.

“More children... Keep looking.”

You brought your hand to your chest and pressed it, hoping they could hear you that way. “Help...” Was all you could whimper out. You couldn't think rationally past the fear and pain. You didn't want to die, of course not. You just wanted the pain to stop. Quiet sobs began to wrack your broken body, burning your lungs as you sucked more smoke in. All this did was bring more pain.

“Owl! Can you move?” Price demanded.

“No.” Your breath was coming in gasps.

“What can you see?” Gaz attempted to make his voice calm.

Looking around again, you tried to find something that would help them. There had to be something other than concrete. Your gun lay a couple of inches away from you, broken in half. Bringing your hand to your chest, you felt a flare still strapped to you. Turning your head to the right, you could faintly see sunlight through the smoke. An opening.

“Flare. I have..a flare. I can see...outside.”

“Good, use it. Tell us where you are.”

As you ignited and the red light surrounded you, you felt the concrete press further into you as the building shifted again. Another scream. Hopelessness.

Ghost could faintly see a red light through the black smoke. Your scream echoed around him. His heart was racing as he climbed down, slowly. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Your blood was staining the concrete around you. He couldn't see your legs, not that he'd want to anyway. You weren't making it out of here. He could tell.

“I found her.” He felt tears in his eyes.

The sight of Ghost gave you a small spark of hope that immediately fizzled out as he kneeled by you, tears in his eyes. He took the flare and threw it through the opening you could see. Dread. Guilt.

“We see the flare, hold on tight, Owl. How's she look?”

Ghost stared at you. You nodded. “Not good, Captain.” Your tears pick up speed, but your sobs stop.

“I'm sorry.” You needed to tell them, at least once. He shook his head, grabbing your hand. His hands held it so gently.

The end was near. The pain started to slip away.

“A hill.” You whispered. He nodded.

“Facing the west.” He finished.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure in the opening. The smoke started to dissipate as he was joined by two others. The sky behind them was a warm pink. Sunset.

“Lots of flowers.” You were leaving faster than you wanted to.

The other 3 joined you and Ghost. Their hands were on your other arm, trapped under the slab.

“I'm so sorry.” They all shook their heads at you,

“You have nothing to apologize for, Owl. We should've been more careful.” Price’s voice was thick with grief.

You smiled at them before looking at the sky, slowly turning a dark purple.

And so you took your last breath, your smile fading like the lights in your eyes.

They did what you wanted. A hill facing the west. You had the best view, surrounded by so many flowers. They came to visit all the time, always bringing a drink for you as they filled you in on what you missed or as they reminisced. Visiting you was always bittersweet. They missed you. They still miss you.

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margowritesthings · 1 year

Text

Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny

PART I

PART II BY @cowboydisaster COMING SOON

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!readersummary: you're a ranch-hand, when your home is attacked by bandits. a mysterious stranger comes to save your life, but who is he? word count: 11.9k words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, violence, murder, attempted sexual assault, sexual relations, fingering (r receiving), penetration, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, talk of trauma a/n: here it is!! finally!! this is the longest piece I've ever written, and I'm so fuckin proud of it!! It is a collaboration with the incredible @cowboydisaster, who will be releasing part 2 when it's ready!! I worked so hard on this, so I hope you love it!! <3

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie @cloudynoiire@punctillous @missvanderlinde @twola @pine4pple-b0i @alice-vanderlinde @photo1030

The day started and progressed like any other, with absolutely no indication that your life would be changed forever until it did. Free time slipped through the cracks in your packed schedule of chores while the sun rose and fell again, casting brilliant orange and pink hues across the sky you now sit in awe of on the porch of your lodgings. Your muscles ache from a full day's work, but it’s a satisfying sensation, one begat from happy horses, milked cows, and a fence fixed by your own hand. Sure, your work earned a mere grumble from Mr. Varner, but throughout the 6 months you’ve worked on the ranch, he has never once had a conversation not directed at your breasts, so you’re not too upset to not have received praise tonight.

Honestly, you’re just glad to be able to relax. The ranch hands rarely speak to one another outside of work, and there isn’t a damn thing to do around here, but it’s better than shovelling shit in the sweltering heat. You’ve even got a glass of fresh apple juice, a rare delicacy to celebrate the end of the week.

Every so often, when the breeze dies down and each animal agrees to quiet, there is an almost absolute silence surrounding you, and you close your eyes to bask in it. This moment would be the perfect time for a feeling or an intuition that everything is about to change, but it doesn’t come. You feel nothing but peace. Years from now, when you look back to this night, you’ll be grateful that the sense of foreboding didn’t hit you until it was too late, knowing these are the very last moments of the life you once knew.

The first sense that something is wrong doesn’t come until the gunshots dart through the darkening coral sky and scatter the birds out into it. Your brows pull together, eyes squinting to search for the origin of the disruption to your peace. They’re distant, for now, but the silhouette against the horizon is unmistakably coming closer to the ranch, rifles and pistols pointed to the heavens by a group of men whooping and cheering as they ride straight towards you.

Everything seems to slow but your racing heart, and it feels like hours between your drink leaving your grasp and the glass shattering all over the porch. Shards disperse over the wood, along with the golden liquid pooled at your feet. In the mere seconds you spend glancing at the floor, the group has advanced and the time you have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do has quickly declined. You’ve heard of gangs hitting up ranches for supplies, heard stories of outlaws on benders pillaging and hunting people simply because they can, but it never crossed your mind to be worried about it. Whenever your momma told you all about the criminals hiding just past the horizon, you’d roll your eyes, chalking it up to a cautionary tale to get you to stay close to the house. Now, your heart hammers against your chest as you realise that if you don’t act now, you’ll become one of those stories, passed down to worry children into obedience. I knew a girl once, shot by bandits for taking too long to hide…

Not today.

The fear of becoming folklore finally overtakes the fear that has paralysed you for what feels like hours and hours, letting you stand and rush into your cabin, shutting the door behind you. Shaking hands reach for the wooden chair by the tiny kitchen, sliding it across the floorboards and hooking it underneath the handle to barricade the door. It won’t keep anybody out for long, but will at least warn you if someone is trying to get in.

Your cabin is small, made up of only one room, and while you’ve always thought it was cozy, right now it feels claustrophobic. The gunshots and laughter are getting louder and you’re scared. Your Momma spent so long teaching you how to stay away from outlaws, but she never told you what to do when they found you. You have nothing but a kitchen knife, which you clutch close to your chest as your eyes frantically dart around your room, searching for anything else you can use to protect yourself. There is nothing, thanks to a minimalism forced upon you by a barely livable wage. You can afford to feed yourself, just about, but life saving luxuries like weaponry or a heavy bookshelf are out of the question, so here you are, back against the log wall, a measly blade normally used for bread gripped close to your body.

Hooves pound against the dirt outside and you swear the ground shakes beneath you. You can hear everything so clearly: spurs clicking against stirrups, heavy boots on the earth, sneering men reloading their guns and thankfully walking towards the main house instead of the smaller cabins you and the other ranch hands reside in. Back pressed against the wall, you wait until the voices dwindle, before you peer out of the little window to get a better view. Some of the fences are already smashed in, including the one you’d just fixed, and somebody has opened all the gates, letting cows and chickens and horses run free amongst the chaos. They’ve reached Mr. Varner’s door, kicking it down with a thud that echoes around the whole ranch. Two of the outlaws go inside, emerging after only a few seconds with Varner’s collar firmly in their grasp. They throw him to the floor and he falls to his knees, and even though you’re at the other side of the ranch, you can see the absolute terror in his eyes. He’s vibrating with fear and you’re not much better, especially when the supposed leader of the group begins to reload his pistol.

You can’t hear his pleas, and even the people who can hear them aren’t listening. The leader lifts his arm, finger resting on the trigger. You’ve heard gunshots before, but none that shake the Earth quite so much as this one.

You don’t hear Mr Varner’s last words, and the aftermath of his murder couldn’t possibly outmatch the ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with pure panic. They killed him. They killed him, and there is absolutely nothing stopping them from coming for you next.

“No… no no no no- fuck!” you whisper to yourself, to any deity out there who might be listening, hoping that they don’t mind the colourful language. You have to get out of here, lest this ranch become your grave. Tears prick at your eyes while your brain works ten thousand miles a second. You’ve retreated back to the floor, not wanting to be spotted by wandering eyes while the outlaws start to ransack Varner’s house.

Your eyes wander desperately around the room, finding only the small window above your bed. It leads out back, so they wouldn��t be able to see you escape, and if you’re stealthy enough you might just be able to make it to the barn. If you’re not, they will find you and surely kill you, but at least the choice of where you’ll die would be in your hands. A small dignity, but a dignity nonetheless that you grasp to with all your might. Most of the horses have fled after the shock of the gunshot that killed your employer, but if you’ve counted correctly there should still be a couple in the barn that you could escape on.

It takes exactly six deep breaths to quell the shaking of your joints enough to stand, stash your knife in your boot and make your way over to your former bed. From the corner of the room, you take a second to look upon your home, knowing it’ll be the last time you see it whether you live or die here. There really isn’t much, but a sad fondness lingers. Everything looks rosier through the lens of somebody being forced out of their home for fear of death.

The window sticks to its frame like it’s covered in treacle, and for one awful second you fear that it won’t budge open, but a desperate push manages to force it just enough to fit you through. Your boots hit the ground with a soft thud and you peer around the corner to find the gang still pulling any valuables they can find from the main house. It’s enough distraction for you to run as swiftly and quietly as you can, tunnel vision stopping anything but your destination from infiltrating your thoughts. With the way the ranch is laid out, you can’t get in through the door without being seen, but you can get to the back of the wooden structure and in through another window, where you will hopefully have more options for getting out of this alive.

When you reach your destination, you don’t even think twice about using your elbow to smash the window in on itself when you realise there’s no hinge. The crack of glass is loud, but nowhere near loud enough to beat the hollering and whooping of the gang. Shards slice through your shirt and skin, crimson quickly pouring from fresh cuts but you hardly notice. It’s pure adrenaline that drags you through the freshly made entrance, and you land on a pile of hay that is quickly decorated with splatters of your own blood.

You’re in.

And you’re alone.

It feels like your fate becomes sealed, shut up with a lock and key you can no longer reach. There are no horses here. There’s no way in hell you can outrun a bullet, nor any man with a horse of their own, so you’re faced with the only option left: hoping they don’t notice you. There’s a chance they’ll go for the cabins over the barn, going after the other ranch hands and their measly belongings instead of piles upon piles of hay. It’s not a chance you’d like to bet your life on, but you no longer seem to have the luxury choice. Your frame fits into a gap in the hay, hidden by a ladder and some crates. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful for your messy colleagues not cleaning up properly. You curl into as small a ball as you can, wrapping your limbs around each other as if it will protect you. You won’t let yourself cry, even after more gunshots start to shatter the air around you. It sounds like they’re getting louder, and you can almost picture a great big flashing percentage chance you’ll survive this decline by the second right above your head.

Your chest tightens to the point that breath can no longer move around in it when the large barn doors creak open, the streak of light cast on the dusty floor almost bright red in hue now. The skies are on fire, your equilibrium in flames as two of the bandits saunter into your makeshift sanctuary.

“See, I told you. Just a buncha’ hay, ain’t even no horses.”

“Just shut up and search over there, bastard could’a kept his stash anywhere.”

You’d snort if you weren’t so debilitatingly terrified, if it wouldn’t be the very act that had you murdered. Varner could barely scrape enough money together to pay you on time and still have his nightly whiskey, there was no way in hell he’d leave a stash of cash lying around in here. But they weren’t to know that, how could they? Who knows what he told them to try and save his own skin.

Spurs scrape across the floor, creating a noise that makes your skin crawl, getting louder and louder as one of the men approaches. You hold your breath until your vision blurs in the corner and you can feel your struggling pulse in your temple, but it is futile. You see his boots first, and somehow force yourself to drag your eyes up his body, finding poorly patched up jeans, an empty holster hanging by his hip, a deep green waistcoat clasped close with a silver chain, long, greasy, graying hair, and an expression you’re sure will burned into your darkest nightmares for the rest of your life. His grin feels as though somebody is pouring acid over your back. Neither shivers nor chills truly justify whatever happens to your skin when the stranger lifts his ivory pistol to you.

Because you refuse to let the tears pooled in your eyes fall, they tremble in droplets along your waterline, your sight flicking between straight down the barrel and back to its wielder.

“Ain’t no stash, but I sure caught me a pretty treasure…”

Logically, it could only have been a second of silence, but time hasn’t worked right for you since you were on that porch, far away from danger. To you, there’s hours. Hours of watching a monster reach for you in slow motion, claws digging into the flesh of your arm with a bruising force. It feels like he tears your skin apart, and if you didn’t know your wounds had come from the shattered window you’d believe the deep gashes were his doing. You scream loudly, half from the sheer panic, half in agony as your blood coats his hands and he drags you across the floor by your injured arm. It doesn’t phase him, at least it doesn’t seem to. Your scream is a droplet in an ocean of pain and terror inflicted by him, it simply joins the chorus of victims you hope haunts him when he’s alone at night.

You kick and claw, but it serves little but to amuse the bastard, who chuckles lowly at your writhing, waving his equally greasy companion over with his pistol.

“Hey, Timmy! Look here what I got!”

It doesn’t take Timmy long to walk over, sneering at you while you try your hardest to do nothing but glare. Your knife feels all too present tucked in your boot, but you know if you tried to grab it now they’d shoot you dead.

“Ain’t she a purty thing, Ace?”

“W-What do you want from me?” You ask, swallowing the rock forming in your throat down, “I ain’t got no money- I-I ain’t got nothin’, just let me go.”

“Oh, you’ve got somethin’, pretty little thing you are…”

No…

The smirk Timmy and Ace share tells you everything you need to know. It feels like your chest is about to crack open from the way your heart pounds against it, longing for release from your body just as much as you are right now. There is nobody to scream for help, no way out, and even if you did escape the barn there’s at least ten more outlaws waiting outside with just as much intention on you as the ones looking at you like a meal in here.

You will never forget your own scream when Ace lunges for you. The taste of cigarette ash and gunpowder on your lips when he clamps his hand over your mouth will be ingrained in your senses forever. The tears finally fall down your cheeks, mixing in with your own blood from your arm as you try and claw at Ace’s arm. It’s fruitless, as even if you could match his strength, Timmy is right there behind him to grasp your arm and pull it painfully behind your head.

“Who’s goin’ first then? I reckon she’s a wriggler, one of us’ll have to hold her.”

“Quit squealin’, I can’t hear myself think!” Ace demands, landing a swift punch to your gut that really doesn’t help the nausea. You can barely feel the pain of anything, so consumed in your panic that you could probably have been shot and wouldn’t notice. Hell, you’d prefer getting shot to having these men’s hands on your body for a second longer. His hand isn’t enough of a barrier to stop the ear splitting noises completely, only dull them a little, but they still don’t deter either man.

“You don’t ever think, what’s the difference?” “Shut up, dumbass, and hold her down proper!”

Their teasing would have floored you, if you weren’t already pinned there. They speak as if mocking each other in the saloon, as if it’s another day, while they hold your life in their hands. If you live to see the end of today, you’ll never forget it. This trauma is one to be carried until the end of your days, and they act like it is merely just another Thursday.

Vehement screams intensify when one set of hands, you don’t know which, begin to pull at your shirt, exposing your shoulders more with each seam that rips. Your eyes are screwed shut, wanting to close off as many senses as you can as the tears freely fall down your cheeks. Their touch feels like acid, bubbling and burning on your skin. You try to bite down, but Ace’s grip is too tight. You try to kick at him, but from his vantage point it is easy to swerve. It seems your fate is sealed, and your heart breaks in a way that can never be truly fixed, a way that changes the course of the remainder of your life. You’ll think back, eventually, and wonder if it would have been different had he arrived just minutes earlier, but he didn’t. He doesn’t. He arrives now, emerging from the fiery sunset like an angel disguised as a demon.

You don’t spot him until Ace falls to the floor, clubbed over the head with the handle of the peacemaker held by the mysterious stranger. You don’t know what to do, who to be scared of and who to be grateful for, he could well just want you all to himself. But when he spots you, covered in blood, sweat and tears, that petrified look in your eyes, the surprise is evident in his features. There’s only a split second for the two of you to exchange confused glances, before Timmy lets go of your arms to grab his own pistol and point it at your saviour. You’re not the only one this man’s intense presence is affecting, it seems, with the way Timmy’s sweaty hands start to shake.

“H-Hey! She’s ours, mister. Get your own!”

That seems to piss him off, a low growl emitting from deep in his chest.

“She ain’t nobody’s. Let her go. Can’t get your own ladies without forcin’ yourself on one, huh? Makes sense I guess, lookin’ at you two…”

There isn’t anything holding you down anymore, but you’re frozen to the spot, pinned down to the floor by the sheer energy of this stranger with the chiselled jaw and the most striking ocean coloured eyes you’ve ever seen in your life peering out from under his gambler’s hat. His face is cast in shadows from the brim, but you can tell he’s handsome, right down to the rugged scar on his chin. You have no idea who he is, but something tells you to trust him.

You’re so lost in him that you don’t notice Ace waking up from his brief stint of unconsciousness, grasping at a handful of your hair to pull your body flush against his on the floor, craning your neck to fit his pistol under your chin. All you can do is claw at his wrist, leaving rosy scratches on his skin that don’t appear to bother him in the least. There’s a sharp pain shooting from your neck down your spine thanks to the strain he is forcing on your vertebrae, which forces a whimper from you. You’re truly stuck in the crossfires, with Timmy’s gun pointing at the stranger, who is pointing his barrel at Ace, who has his pistol right up against your chin, leaving indents of the metalwork in your skin from the pressure of it.

“You drop that gun, or I’ll blow her pretty little head off, ya hear? Drop it!” Ace demands, shoving the weapon even further into your flesh to prove his point. You can’t help the tear that escapes when he does so, this awful reminder of your mortality prodding oh so painfully into your jaw. The stranger only thinks about it for a fraction of a second, holding one hand out in a surrender, while the other leans down to place his peacemaker on the floor slowly.

“Alright, easy.” His tone is much calmer than before, his eyes never leaving yours despite everything going on around the two of you. You’re terrified, and he knows it, but even though you’ve never met before this moment, the way he looks at you soothes you, almost like you’re conversing with no words spoken at all, “We can all put our weapons down and talk, huh?”

Ace seems to relax at the sight of the stranger disarming himself, which you can tell by the way his grip on your hair slackens a little. It’s still mighty uncomfortable, and having his clammy hands all over you makes you want to cut your skin off with a-

Kitchen knife.

The metal of the weapon you’re just remembering burns into the skin of your ankle, glowing like the bright white light to freedom. If you play this right, it could be. There’s always the chance you could mess up and get blown to pieces, but if the choice is that or more of having to breathe the same air as these scum bandits, you’re willing to take your chances.

The good lord seems to smile down on you for the first time today when He wills both Ace and Timmy to reach for the discarded peacemaker at the same time, leaving them distracted enough for you to throw your weight into elbowing Ace in the gut and grab the knife from its makeshift holster.

Time slows again, the next few seconds playing out like confusing hours, the four of you a mess of limbs as everyone attempts their separate feats. Timmy goes for the gun, while Ace recovers his breath enough to try and wrestle the blade out of your hand. The mystery man boots Timmy in the face, knocking him out cold and out of the way, and he manages to kick the peacemaker out of anybody's reach too. You don’t see what happens next, as Ace pins you to the ground, slapping you hard across the face. The shock causes you to drop the knife, which he swiftly recovers, raising it high above your head with a maniac, unhinged grin on his face. For a moment, you’re almost glad of the fate you see sealing before you, as you’re sure that image would have haunted you for the rest of your days anyway.

They say that life is supposed to flash before your eyes in your final moments, a speedrun of your best and worst moments laid out before you while you take your final breaths, but it isn’t your past you see when you realise that this is how your story is going to end, your own damn kitchen knife about to be plunged into your chest. No, you don’t see what has happened, you see everything that could no longer be. You see the ranch you’ll never own for yourself one day, the children you’ll never get the chance to bear, the wedding you’ll never attend… You let your dreams go in that moment, watching them fly further than you ever will again.

You shut your eyes tight, determined to block out the horrendous last view you think you’ll ever have, so you don’t actually see your knight in dusty leather throw his body into your attacker. His weight is no match for scrawny Ace, who hits the floor with a thud. The stranger grapples at Ace’s throat while he splutters helplessly. When you see him lift the knife, after managing to sit yourself up and slide out of the way, you shout out, but it is too late. Ace impales the man in the shoulder and he cries out, though it comes out as more of a growl. You wince at the sight of it as the stranger pulls together all the adrenaline from being stabbed to punch Ace in the nose. The crack seems to echo in the chaos, followed by a quiet just not possible when the two bandits were conscious.

The fire in your lungs burns hot, your chest struggling to contain the breaths you’d resigned yourself to never take again as your mind starts to attempt to catch up. It is just you and this man now, both wounded and covered in blood, neither knowing what exactly to say next. You pray your intuition to trust this man is right, though with the way he looks at you, you’re sure he couldn’t mean harm to you even at gunpoint.

You look like a deer caught by a rifle, wide eyed and unable to move save for the frantic shaking you can’t seem to stop. The man winces as he removes the knife from out of his shoulder, but you’re so desensitised to everything right now that the sight of blood running down his arm and pooling through his shirt doesn’t bother you.

“It’s alright now, Miss. They won’t wake up for a while yet, you’re safe.” He speaks while reaching for his gun, worried, tired eyes never leaving you, “They hurt you?”

The shock has paralysed your tongue and slammed your jaw shut, your molars grinding together near painfully, but you manage to shake your head. They did manage to get a few hits in, but besides a slightly winded feeling in your gut and a slinging where you were slapped, the wounds they left are far more intangible. Spiritual.

He watches the trauma immobilize you, and you see his heart break for you, right in the crease between his eyebrows and the way his features soften, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” He approaches you, slowly, holding his empty hands out in an act of surrender to you. When you don’t flinch or move away after his first step towards you, he continues his journey to you, good arm gently wrapping around your frame, careful not to bleed on you or harm your own wounds, “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you’.”

The comedown comes hard, the sobs erupting from your lips nearly the second you feel his touch on you. It all becomes real, hitting you, body and soul, like a freight train, crushing your bones and spirit like they’re nothing.

“They-they-” “I know, I know… it’s okay. I’ll get you outta here, I promise. You got someplace else to go?”

You shake your head, sniffling to attempt to gain control over the sobs wracking your body. Using the circles this man is rubbing into your back and his soothing words as a compass, you find your way back to him.

“It’s alright, miss. I’ll get us outta here. You okay to ride on my horse for a while?”

You nod, starting to feel the true sting that smashing a window with your bare hand should incite without adrenaline numbing your senses. The tears wet your cheeks, mixing in with god knows whose blood splattered across your features like crimson freckles. You feel a warm, calloused thumb pad rub a tear track away, before the stranger stands and extends his hand out to you. Both of you have injured your left side, so interlink your right hand fingers so he can help you to your feet. Standing is hard when it feels like your bones igniting and shattering through your flesh, but you manage with the help of this man’s strength.

“I took care of those guys outside, but the law could be here any minute. Boadicea’s just outside- don’t let her size fool you, she’s friendly enough. We’ll get you somewhere safe, alright? Figure out what to do next…” He guides you outside with an arm around your shoulder, whistling a stunning chestnut Hungarian half-bred over to you. He mounts the mare, patting her on the neck and murmuring “Good girl,” into her ear.

On a better day, you’re more than capable enough to mount a horse by yourself, but you just can’t bring yourself to deny the man when holds an arm out to you. You fit perfectly behind him, your chest moulding against his hard back, wrapping one arm around his waist. Despite the whirring in your mind of everything that just transpired, you manage to pick out that he smells like a wonderful mix of whiskey and tobacco. Normally, you can’t stand either of them, far too strong and smoky for your tastes, but somehow it suits this man. You cling to him while he kicks Boadicea into a gallop, inhaling in his scent and letting it soothe you. The wind whips your skin and you shiver, glancing back only once at your former life, watching the flames lick at Varner’s house as it crumbles to the ground. It’s spreading fast, and you can’t imagine Timmy and Ace will wake in time to escape before the barn is taken. Ironic, that their demise will come from their own destruction.

It’s a near silent ride, where all your energies have to be put into not breaking down all over again. You know that if you start to cry, you just won’t stop. Everyone you know is dead, you’ve lost your job, your home, and almost had a part of yourself stolen that you’ve never freely given to anybody before. It’s too much, but you force yourself to focus on anything but. You think about the feel of this man’s shirt on your cheek, the way the muscles of his back ripple beneath your supple chest each time he moves to ride Boadicea. You hear the occasional wince, especially until he senses you’re far enough away from the ranch to slow down a little. He’s hurt, clearly an outlaw in his own right, and you struggle to understand why exactly he’s helping you instead of protecting his own back and leaving you there in the flames. But you’re too tired to be skeptical, running completely on empty.

Boadicea carries the two of you into the woods. It’s getting dark, and you’re surprised at how well she navigates the trees and branches, following the winding path until you reach a clearing.

“Here alright?” Your saviour asks, glancing over his good shoulder at you. You nod wordlessly, still clutching right onto his waist despite the fact you’re now stationary.

He dismounts first, holding both arms out to you despite the clear pain written across his face. You dismount Boadicea, the front of your body sliding down the mystery man’s thanks to how close he’s standing. Your legs still feel like jelly, but you somehow manage to stay standing.

“I’ll set up a tent. You know how to make a fire, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to rifle through a satchel he wears across his body. You nod again and take the flint and steel he’s offering out to you. Your hands brush, sending a shiver down your arm.

While he uses just one hand to hammer some tall branches into the ground to hang the canvas from, you set up the fire, finding enough dry wood around to not have to wander far at all. It isn’t long before you’re both sitting beside the fire, a makeshift roof over your head while the stranger plucks some items from his satchel.

Your wounds appear to have stopped bleeding, leaving dark pools of a near maroon hue seeping through your shirt around gashes that wind around your flesh like ivy. You didn’t get the chance to properly look before, too engulfed in panic to notice how deep they are.

In the glow of the firelight, the lines etched into your saviour's face seem harsher, telling the tales of the pain he’s in and betraying the heroic facade he’s so clearly trying to put on for you. You know it all too well right now as your arm throbs, a stinging, aching mess of sensation that scrunches your nose up as you try to flex your fingers.

“You’re hurt.” He states, watching you intently as your hand shakes from the strain,

“I’m okay.” You manage, the very first words you’ve spoken since being back at the ranch, “I had to smash a window in to get to the barn. Figured there’d be something in there to help me, but…” you trail off as he nods knowingly.

“Can I help you with your arm? I ain’t no doctor, but I’ve had enough scrapes through the years to know what to do.” He offers and you nod, trusting him more than you have the sense to. You don’t even know his name.

The man moves slowly over to sit beside you, the heat of the flames and the closeness between you setting your cheeks alight. You don’t really understand it, you just got assaulted by bandits, and yet all you want to do is shuffle closer and bury yourself into this one, letting everything melt away while he tells you it’s gonna be alright.

His hands are upturned to the stars, awaiting your arm which you give him without question. There’s a tugging need to trust him deep down in your gut that allows you to do whatever he asks of you.

When he looks over the torn, stained fabric of your shirt, his brows pull together. The mud and paint from the ranch is barely noticeable for all the blood, but neither of you can really see the cuts to your skin.

“Shall I take it off?” you offer, not particularly eager to undress but smart enough to know he can’t help you without.

“‘Fraid you might have to, miss. You can trust me, I ain’t nothin’ like them men, I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Your words are spoken so quickly, barely audible, but they still echo around the tiny space the pair of you occupy. You start at the bottom button, knowing that it will start to hurt when you reach the halfway mark because you need to bend your arm. He notices your discomfort, probably in the way your bottom lip slips between your teeth and your jaw flutters when you grind your teeth together to have another sensation to focus on.

“Let me.” he mumbles, a hint of a growl catching his low voice. You let your hand drop back to a comfortable position to do as he says. It feels as though your breath gets stuck in your chest when the hardened skin of his hand brushes over your belly and the contact burns through your chemise. The tension in the air is palpable, both suffocating you and keeping you breathing just so you can experience whatever is to come.

You’re both silent as he works the buttons through their tiny holes, looking like a giant manoeuvring something so delicate. You can easily get the shirt off one shoulder, but he has to help with the other, his hand sliding down your arm with the pooling fabric before he can carefully peel the shirt away from you and discard it to the floor.

The air chills your skin, leaving goose pimples scattered all over you. You feel exposed, but somehow not uncomfortable. Your chemise is a simple one, with a bodice that clings to each curve unseen by another. And yet here you sit, in front of a nameless man who swallows thickly as he tries to keep his eyes trained on your injuries.

“You got a name, mister?” You manage, watching him rip up a bandana he found in his satchel and dousing it in water from a flask. He seems to hesitate, before eventually answering without meeting your eye.

“Call me Callahan, for now.”

For now?

“That a first name or a last name?”

It looks as though he hesitates for a moment, before he starts to clean your wounds and the blood begins to flake off your skin.

“S’just a name.”

Strange answer. Evasive answer, but if he truly is an outlaw going round town rescuing strangers from bandits, it makes sense to not go around advertising who you are.

You wince at a particularly deep cut and Callahan apologises, renewing his efforts to clean your arm as if restoring an antique painting that could tear apart at any moment. It stings, but you handle it. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve already experienced today.

“How ‘bout you, miss?”

You pause, for the first time in your life not quite knowing how to answer such a simple question. Of course you have a name, but it feels wrong to twist your tongue to say it. It no longer fits you, like a jacket worn long before you truly grew into yourself. Your name belongs to a woman who lives on a ranch and loves nothing more than a fresh painted fence and a glass of ice cold apple juice… but she doesn’t exist anymore. She died in the barn, along with that fierce naïveté you’ve held so close to your chest for your whole life, the one that believes in the world and the kindness in it, the one that thinks you work hard in life to earn your place and that goodness will be rewarded. It’s all gone, replaced with the images of Varner’s skull shattered across his own land, his life's work up in flames at the hands of men who refuse to follow the right path.

In the end, you give him your name, knowing deep down that it will be the last time you ever use it. Every single person who knew it, your family, employer, friends… they’re all dead anyway. And now so are you. To the world, the young girl they knew perished in the barn fire.

“S’a pretty name.” he mumbles, seemingly pulled into the focus needed to not hurt you again. He’s good, really good at patching up wounds, you notice, despite his calloused hands being so huge. With the concentration etched across his face, and him sitting so close to you, you can finally get a proper look at him. Those ocean eyes you noticed back in the barn are just as stunning without being the last thing you think you’ll ever see, framed with little crows feet at the corners of his lids. His face is tanned, scattered with light freckles you don’t think you would have noticed if not for the privilege of being so close to him. He has sandy hair and stubble that covers his whole jawline, save for that little scar on his chin. He is without doubt the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body and soul, and you feel your heart fluttering against your ribcage and your skin tingling at his contact.

He expertly ties strips of the bandanna around your arm, and while the pressure stings, it also feels a lot less like your flesh is being pulled apart.

“I think you’re gonna be alright, miss. Might scar, they’re mighty deep, but they’ll heal well enough with time.”

“T-Thank you.” You stutter, holding your arm out to survey his handiwork.

“Don’t mention it.” He dismisses, though you notice he doesn’t move any further away from you. You’re glad for it.

“No, not just this… everything. Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to say it back there, but… I think you saved my life. And saved me from a far worse fate than death, I… I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You mean every word spilling from your lips, and suddenly, with your hand still placed in his, fitting more perfectly than anything personally made for you ever could, you watch your fate seal. You know what you want, and after the most prominent life lesson you’ll ever receive that life can be cut short at any moment, you know you have to get it.

“It’s what any man would do, sweetheart… I ain’t a good man, believe me… but I couldn’t stand by while those bastards took advantage of ya’.”

The reminder (not that you needed it, with Ace’s unhinged grin permanently burnt into your eyelids) pulls your brows together as sadness etches across your face. Callahan notices, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes you might have missed if your body weren’t in hyperdrive around him, every slight brush setting you alight. Your fingers entangle together, and you don’t quite know who initiated it, but it feels right. Comforting. Everything.

When your gaze roams from your entwined hands to his face, you stop at his shoulder, suddenly feeling foolish for letting him patch you up while he has an open stab wound.

“I can help with your shoulder, if you like.” You nod towards his injury, trying not to think about what it was like watching the blade be plunged into his flesh. He doesn’t hesitate to nod, managing to undo his buttons and take off his shirt without aid. At first, your eyes fly to the stars, before realising there’s no escaping looking when you’ll have to clean him up.

When you look back, it takes everything to not audibly gasp. What is clearly a lifetime's worth of hard and manual labour has sculpted him into something beautiful, with thick arms, wide shoulders, and a defined chest adorned with a trail of hair leading right down to…

You clear your throat to drag yourself out of that train of thought, a somewhat strangled sound that leaves a flush of pink on your cheeks. You can hardly be to blame: for the first time seeing a semi-naked man, you pretty much hit the jackpot.

The glow of the fire is just enough for you to see what you need to, though you shuffle just that bit closer to Callahan until your knees brush against his and it feels like embers scatter over your skin. Years of being the careful one means you’re no stranger to cleaning up injuries, but they pale in comparison to being stabbed with a kitchen knife. Luckily, it doesn’t look too deep, but you’ll still need to clean it and it’ll hurt.

You use a fresh piece of fabric to wash off the blood. Callahan sucks in a pained breath, but the curses you expect to fly from him don’t come. From the way his cheek hollows, it looks as though he’s biting into it to keep restrained.

“Sorry. This might hurt a little.” You admit, feeling his muscles twitch and flex under your touch.

“S’alright, I’ve survived worse.”

Another elusive answer, one that has you fighting a strange urge to ask him all about all the times he’s been hurt, all the adventures he’s been on. Up close, you can see hints of a life well lived, from each scar to the battered black hat he’s wearing that looks older than you. Everything about him seems to tell a different tale, each more intriguing than the last.

A comfortable silence settles around you, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional pained hiss from Callahan. The wound doesn’t seem as bad without the copious amounts of blood framing it, but it still looks rather painful.

Attempting to clean a particularly deep section of the cut has you leaning up close, so much so you’re all but sitting on Callahan’s lap. You’re so engrossed in trying to help him that you almost miss the way his heart pounds when your breath tickles his skin, how he tenses at your touch, feeling a fire of his very own burning through him.

With the angle you’re leaning into Callahan’s body, it is all too easy for a stray piece of hair to escape from behind your ear, the end of it brushing against his chest. You go to push it back, but he beats you to it, hand remaining by your cheek firmly as your gazes lock into each other's. The air changes. You don’t understand it, but it does. It gets thicker and thinner all at once, the world melting away around the two of you. The cogs in your mind begin to whir frantically.

You’ve never lain with anyone before. Not for some religious reason or personal rule, you just never found anyone who felt special enough to share the intimacy with. Honestly, it felt like too big of a moment to share with any of the boys you knew back home or on the ranch. But in those moments in the barn, with Ace and Timmy’s hands all over your body, you regretted it. You wanted to make the choice of who and when, not some low lives with just about enough IQ points to reload a gun. You felt powerless in that moment, when you thought they’d take whatever they wanted from you, and the second survival became a possibility you swore to yourself you’d take that power back for yourself. You grasp it, hold it close to your chest. You’re never going to relinquish it again.

Callahan watches you intently, watches you process everything with his hand on your cheek, his skin on yours, and you suddenly know exactly what you want to do with your power of choice.

“Will you kiss me?”

The words fall out of you before you can even really consider them. You’re tired of considering, tired of being the good little girl who spent her life hiding from danger only for it to find her anyway. What is this fight for safety and survival, if you’re not going to live anyway?

Callahan’s surprise is evident in the creases in his forehead and the way his crows' feet disappear as his eyes widen. His lips part, stutters spilling from them. Your heart falls for what feels like forever when he takes his hand from your cheek to take off his hat and run a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Christ, sweetheart, I-I… I dunno if that’s the best idea.”

A heat unrelated to the fire before you bursts across your face as the rejection stabs you hard in the chest. You thought you’d figured it out. The way his eyes lingered on your every move, the way his hand stayed on your hip just that second too long when he helped you dismount Boadicea, the spark… you couldn’t be the only one who felt it. It was unspoken, ethereal, but just as real as the cuts on your skin or the boots on his feet. You were sure of it, even if there was nothing else in your history to compare it to.

“You don’t want to?” You don’t mean for it to sound desperate, or desperately sad, but it might just have come out that way. He notices the way your fingers anxiously pick at one another and grasps your hand again, electricity shooting out from the point of contact all over your body.

“No, no it ain’t that- I-I do. Very much so, but… you just went through somethin’ real traumatic, darlin’. I don’t wanna take advantage of you.”

You understand, thinking about how pathetic you must look right now. He rescued you, patched you up while all you could do was try not to cry. In the exceptionally short time he’s known you, he’s done nothing but save you. How could he see you as anything but the damsel in distress you so feel like right now?

“You wouldn’t be. You couldn’t- I…” You take a breath, knowing just how crazy you must sound to this man, this stranger, “I ain’t ever slept with anyone before. And when those men came… I thought my first time was going to be stolen from me. It terrified me, Callahan. I never want to feel that way again, that powerless... I want to choose. I want to choose you. And I ain’t gonna go all crazy on you and cling to you and make ya’ marry me, this doesn’t have to mean anything, I swear it. I just… I want my power back. I don’t want that choice ever made for me, any choice ever made for me again. I want to do this.”

Your words process across the cowboy’s features, your heart quickening with each inch he leans in towards you. His hand feels cool against your burning cheek when he cups your face, the ocean from his eyes washing over you as he studies each and every minuscule detail of your beautiful face.

“Are ya’ sure, sweetheart? Cause if I kiss you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself…”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so damn sure. This is what I want. Please.” You plead, shuffling forwards so your legs are tangled together by the fireside.

“Well, who am I to deny a lady so beautiful as you?”

When you were young, before caution sunk his possessive claws into your mind and made you too sensible for your own good, you got stuck in a rope swing, suspended over a pond by your ankle. You only spent a few minutes in the air, mere inches from being plunged into the cool water on that sticky, hot summer's day, but it felt like hours until the twine snapped and you fell in. Those few seconds come right back to you in those moments between Callahan moving towards you and the pair of you falling into the cool water together. His lips connect with yours, and the relief of no longer hanging on the precipice of the unknown washes over you, with it the euphoria of your choices.

Your lips fit together like long lost puzzle pieces, drawn together by a thread weaved in fate itself. It tugs you closer, until your chests are flush against each other and your uninjured arm is reaching to tangle your digits in Callahan’s hair. You feel his muscles stiffen for a moment, thanks to the stab wound in his shoulder, but he still manages to wind his hand around your waist, resting on the small of your back. When your lips part, his tongue delves into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you. He tastes like everything you’ve always been too sensible to do, just how you imagined when his smoke and whiskey infiltrated your senses back when you were riding with him.

Of course you’ve been kissed before, but never like this, and you’re surprised at how quickly you pick it up from him, teasing your own tongue into his mouth. He growls, God help you, a hint of a not-so-honourable outlaw hiding under the caring cowboy shell he’s treated you with since you met. You feel something coiling tighter deep in your core that hints at what is to come, a seed of desperation fed and watered with each movement, sound or touch Callahan makes.

When his lips retreat, the loss is so prominent you have to hold back a whimper.

“Christ, darlin’… I-“

But you don’t let him finish, grasping onto his neck with both hands and dragging him back into you. A hunger burns in you, shown in the way you nip at Callahan’s bottom lip with your teeth, pulling out another growl from him. It’s a silent plea to not treat you like you’re breakable, one that he responds to by pressing his lips more firmly against yours until you have no choice but to lean into his hold and let him carry some of your weight. He wraps both arms around you, his skin so warm against yours it fans the flames of whatever is burning inside you. He feels so safe, despite every piece of common sense telling you he’s a stranger, who really shouldn't feel safe.

You don’t speak, neither one of you wanting to stop kissing the other for even a second, but you can follow his wordless instruction as he pulls you onto his lap. You straddle him, winding your legs around his waist. An ineffable wave of something you’ve never experienced before ripples through you, starting between your legs, where you feel Callahan’s hard bulge prodding against your core. You can’t help but arch your back, dragging your hips over Callahan in the process. The pleasure shoots through you and you can’t stop the gasp that parts your lips from his, your eyes flying open.

The sight you look upon is one you’ll never forget. Callahan’s eyes are tight shut, his features twisted in a look of bliss. His jaw is so tense you see the muscle fluttering. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. His finger’s clutch onto the flesh just above your hips, and you can feel the tension of the restraint he’s forced to employ to not hurt you or push you too fast. This huge, muscular man, who saved your life tonight, is falling apart beneath you.

You can’t help but reach to his mouth, running your thumb so faintly over his bottom lip, still wet from your kisses. He looks to you, eyes locking onto yours as you drown in his seas.

He speaks so softly, “If you wanna stop, or we’re goin’ too fast, you just say the word and we’ll-”

“I don’t want to stop. I want you, please.”

He growls again, and you squeak as he scoops you up with him when he stands. Your legs are wrapped around his waist tight, your core brushing his member every time he makes a step towards the makeshift tent he put up earlier. He carries you with such an ease, kneeling down to lay you on the bedroll laid out on the floor. Even with his injury, he puts all his weight into his arms so as to not crush you, pressing more kisses to your lips as you writhe beneath him.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” He whispers, his kisses reaching the corner of your lip and travelling down to your neck, “From the second I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful…”

Your heart aches with his words, and you’re sure at this moment it beats only for him, your saviour, your knight in shining denim. The hours you’ve known him stretch into a lifetime, tears welling in your eyes from the purest of emotions.

You mean to reply, but when his lips latch onto the pulse point in the crook of your neck, you melt into the earth. It feels nothing short of heavenly, and you can’t imagine what is to come if this man makes you feel these things from simple kisses. You’re purring for him, the heat pooling between your legs becoming near torturous, coiling every one of your nerves into a messy bundle inside you.

There’s a moment where Callahan looks to you, a silent question of permission as his hand hovers over the strap to your chemise. You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth so hard you’re scared it might break skin. The tingles from Callahan’s touch ripple from your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down, exposing both breasts to the cool night air. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling oh so lightly and pulling a moan from your lips. He laps you up, your back arching against the wool of the bedroll to give as much of yourself to him as you can. His hands work your pants, impressively considering his attention is elsewhere on your body, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your legs as far as he can reach without leaving your contact. You manage to kick your boots off and slide the jeans off completely, leaving just a layer of cotton covering you.

Your fingers entangle in Callahan’s locks, scratching at his scalp as he licks and nips at you.

“God, please,” you moan, feeling that coil inside you tightening to impossible levels,

He’s quick to look up, a lust burning in those irises, “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“Everything.”

Your patience is hanging on by a thread, your need for him growing and your heart pounding faster with every passing second. When he takes his hands to the fastenings on your undergarments, you could sob from the relief. With one slow pull at a ribbon, the chemise falls from your body, and Callahan opens it up like a present at Christmas. His eyes roam over you, and while you always thought you’d feel exposed when you were first bare to a man, nothing could feel more natural than being naked underneath him, to have his skin on yours as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, before dragging a hand gently over your stomach, hovering just above your weeping cunt.

“Can I touch you, darlin’?” His voice is gruff, threatening to crack from the restraint he’s deploying by not taking you with the urgency tearing him apart right now.

“Yes. Yes, please, I… I feel so…”

“I know, I know… Let me take care of you, alright beautiful?”

Your back flies off the bedroll when you feel two fingers plunge into your cunt, curling upwards slightly. It feels incredible, in spite of a strange stretching sensation that quickly ebbs away. He starts slow, sliding his fingers out and back in, dragging against your walls deliciously. You cry out, eyes shut tight and face contorted in pleasure. You don’t see how he watches you, smile tugging on his features as he remarks to himself how beautiful you look like this, but know that it happens.

Sweet moans fall from your lips in time to the thrusts of Callahan’s fingers, your body singing for him. You’re climbing, higher and higher to a destination you don’t even truly understand. It is then that Callahan presses a thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves and a gasp is ripped from deep inside you, your eyes flying open.

“Oh, God, I-”

“I know, baby, easy… I got you, let go, angel.”

And you do.

Without even knowing where exactly he’s leading you, you follow, falling over an uncharted precipice into ecstasy. It ripples throughout your entire being, doubling your vision. Callahan leans back down to you, heat and want radiating from his bare skin like a burning flame.

“That’s it, sweetheart, good girl.”

He closes the gap between you, catching wanton moans in his mouth and swallowing them gratefully, needily. It feels like forever lasts in just that moment, waves upon waves of a pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced crashing over your body and curling your toes.

The waves turn to ripples, which dissipate into a pleasant tingle that buzzes more intensely wherever Callahan’s skin is on yours. Your legs are entwined together, and you’re not sure when he removed his pants, but you can feel his warm skin against yours everywhere. It’s dizzying, the heat of him and the size of him stretching over your body. Your eyelashes flutter up at him and you reach to run a hand over his cheek.

“Wow…” You breathe, “That was…”

“Was? Oh, I’m not done with you yet, darlin’...”

Your cheeks flush, a melodic giggle escaping you. This whole experience is so much more comfortable than you could have ever imagined your first time would be, with laughter and looks of such adoration you forget you’ve only known this man a few hours.

“I wanna show you more…” He whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can,

“There’s more?” You joke, knowing full well what happens next but wanting so badly to make him chuckle again. You’re addicted to the sound, and he supplies it, shaking his head ever so slightly,

“Are you ready, beautiful?” “Please, I need you, Callahan. Take me.”

He doesn’t make you wait long. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Nerves take over, but only for a second, numbed quickly by more kisses pressed on your forehead and nose. You haven’t actually seen his member, almost too shy to look, but God can you feel it when he slowly slides in. It’s a stretch, and you hold your breath until the pinching feeling falters. Callahan waits there, deep inside you, until you nod your head to wordlessly reassure him you’re okay.

“Good girl…” another kiss, “you beautiful,” and another, “good girl.”

His praises wash over you, relaxing your muscles to the point where there is no pain, only the intense pleasure of you gripping and rippling around his cock.

“O-Oh… Feels… So good.” You manage, scratching your nails into his back and pushing at him to move. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, slowly retreating and pushing back into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as you get filled so wonderfully it’s hard to breathe.

Callahan’s arms shake around you and you watch him grasp on his composure. It’s taking him everything he has in him to not slam into you and fuck you senseless, but he clearly wants to make sure you feel safe. It swells your heart and piques your curiosity all at once, wondering what would happen if he let go in a way you know he won’t right now.

“Y-Yeah? You feel alright, sweetheart?” He stutters, hips spluttering slowly as he thrusts gently in and out. You’re already coiling, reaching that blissful state, but you want him to feel the same. He’s growling and groaning and it’s music to your ears, but you want more, you need all of him, every last unrestrained molecule of this man.

“I feel wonderful… Please don’t hold back. I’m not breakable, I need you, please.”

How could he refuse? Hearing such sweet pleas and begs, he’s putty in your hands.

“Baby girl, a-are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you, and you feel so damn good, I-I don’t know if I can hold back…”

“Please, Callahan.”

It doesn’t escape your notice, how he winces whenever you say his name, but you can’t think straight about it right now, not when you feel his cock reaching every last inch of you and prodding that sweet spot he seems to have a map to. You’re delirious with pleasure, even when he’s holding back.

When he lets go, you scream, tears of pure intensity forming in the corners of your eyes. Callahan pulls back, completely out of you, before diving back in. The tears fall down quick tracks on your skin, and he kisses them away, growling deep in his chest. His pace picks up, and now you’re used to it it doesn’t hurt a bit. It’s heavenly, it’s ecstasy.

“F-Fuck, angel, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks, his lips pressed against your collarbone to muffle the words. His teeth scrape against your skin, leaving white hot trails that will be burned into you forever, you’re sure.

“T-Touch me, p-please- oh!” Your pleas are interrupted by a particularly wonderful movement and Callahan grins at you, loving watching you fall apart like this for him.

He can’t say no to you, would never want to when you ask him oh so nicely. He snakes a hand down between your two bodies, tickling your clit with the pad of one finger in slow, delirious circles. In response, you involuntarily squeeze around his shaft and he moans loudly in your ear. It might have just become your favourite sound in the whole world.

“Christ, darlin’, I-I’m so fuckin’ close I can’t last much longer, baby.”

You respond with a kiss, a passionate, almost loving kiss, where your tongue licks up the roof of Callahan’s mouth to chase his taste. You catch his desperate groans, feeling how the rhythm of his hips falters the closer to losing it he gets. His fingers get sloppy, rubbing in an indescribable pattern and bringing you right where he is, whimpering and writing beneath his body.

You cum together, your cunt constricting around Callahan’s cock, feeling every vein pump and twitch as he too comes apart. He parts his lips from yours, only to breathlessly moan your name into your ear, his hot breath tickling your lobe and scattering an inexpressible feeling over your skin. He’s pounding into you and it hurts a little, but you feel far too good right now to care. Your pulse hammers for him, over every inch of you, blood rushing around your body carrying something magical with it. Callahan groans loudly, almost fully retreating his length before thrusting a final time, deep inside you. His lips connect with yours again, the tear tracks on your cheeks wetting his own skin from how close you are. You feel his cock pulsing as he releases the last of his spend into you, with no care in your mind for the consequences.

When you open your eyes, still coming back to earth, he’s there for you, looking down with an expression you could only describe as blissful.

“You are… somethin’ else…” He whispers, reaching to push a stray piece of hair from your face.

═══════☆═══════

In all your years, there has never been such a comfortable silence as the one you and Callahan are existing in now, disturbed only by the gentle thrumming of his heart against your ear. There’s no awkwardness, wasn’t when he slid out of you and helped you get cleaned up either. The moment is peace, especially when you feel your own heart beating to the exact same rhythm. If it weren’t for this man, it might not have been, and now you’re synchronised to him.

A clean shirt from his saddle bag is wrapped around your shoulders, while Callahan’s fingers gently run over your hair. You want to thank him again, but the silence hanging around you both seems too precious for you to break.

Your anxious mind is kind to you, allowing you a few more minutes of complete peace in this heavenly sanctuary, before everything comes crashing back down to Earth, dragging you with it.

“... God, what am I gonna do now?”

Callahan doesn’t hesitate.

“You could stay with me.”

You freeze, leaning up on your good arm to look him in the eye, hair cascading over your face once more. As always, he pushes it back, though there’s something in his expression that tells you he’s surprised those words left his mouth so freely.

“Stay with you? Where?”

“Well… I run with some others, folk like you who have nowhere to go. We keep a camp together, keep eachother safe and fed. I… I’m sure they’d welcome you.”

“You’re outlaws, right?”

The great unspoken question. It lingers between you for a moment, and Callahan swallows hard.

“Yeah, outlaws. But we ain’t as bad as those others, we… we try n’ help people, where we can. I could talk to Dutch, get you somewhere to sleep ‘till you get back up on your feet.”

Your mind races, setting itself off faster than a spooked horse spotting a snake. Outlaws killed Varner, outlaws tried to rape you, and would have surely killed you had they had the chance… Outlaws were bad news, everything you’ve ever been warned about in your life…

And you slept with one, and now had a standing invitation to join them??

He must sense the turmoil twisting your previously calm features, and quickly goes back to that soothing motion across your hair.

“Hey, just think on it, alright? You’ve had a pretty damn rough day, ain’t no use doin’ anything but restin’ now. We can stay here tonight, talk about it in the morning.” “A-Alright…”

For now, you let his words wash over you, his gruff voice trying to pull you back to that tranquil state. It works, and you rest your head back on his chest, careful to avoid the makeshift bandages you tied around his shoulder.

You shut your eyes, intertwined with your saviour while the moon watches over you both.

“Thank you, Callahan…” you mumble, sleep already grasping you with its tempting claws.

You’re the first to drift, while Callahan stays awake as long as he can to make sure you’re alright. He watches you sleep, watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter every so often.

“It’s Arthur, by the way…”

═══════☆═══════

You’re pulled out of the realms of sleep when an owl hoots nearby. For a second, you panic, expecting all the comforts of your own bed and finding the open air. It comes crashing back all too soon, the bandits, Varner, Callahan…

He’s right where you left him, arm wrapped around your frame to keep you safe from the elements and otherwise. His handsome features are illuminated by a moon glowing high in the sky, fast asleep, and you know it’s now or never.

You’re not sure when you make your decision, whether it was when he first asked you, or some wider wisdom from a dream you can’t remember influenced you. You’ll regret it a hundred times over and thensome, but you know that even when you’re doing it.

You allow yourself a kiss, just one soft kiss on his sleeping lips, before somehow managing to slide out of his embrace without disturbing him. He stirs, and you freeze, but a tiny snore later and he returns to complete slumber.

There are tears welling in your eyes when you approach Boadicea. She looks at you solemnly, as if she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she lets you do it anyway. Every movement pains you in a way you’ve never experienced before, your heart aching more violently than any mortal flesh wound ever could.

Boadicea stays still while you look through her saddle bag, picking out a couple of tins of food and one of the opened tonics, though you leave most of the provisions. It feels wrong, stealing from him, but you know you have to to survive. You’re on your own now.

Just when you’re about to wrap everything up to go, you spot a book in the back pocket of the bag, a stick of charcoal poking through the pages. Glancing at Callahan’s sleeping body, even for the fraction of a second you do so, hurts so much you can barely breathe.

You pick the book out, flicking over stunning sketches of landscapes, animals, and a few portraits. You’re careful not to read the words, fearful that knowing any more of his soul could change your mind in an instant. The charcoal scratches at the paper as you write, more grateful than ever that you learnt how to in your free time on the ranch.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

Each step out of the woods pulls at that tether, the one you noticed before when you first kissed him that resides deep in your heart, the one that feels like fate. But you’ve met her before, and she scares you. Fate means destiny, yes, but she also brings doom. And that is no longer a risk you can afford to take.

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