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penvisions · 5 months ago

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return the favor {chapter 23}

Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller X Smuggler! Reader

Summary: You can only hope to catch up with Joel and Ellie before it's too late, the warning words of your cousins on your mind as you encounter a group of people at the campus yourself. Your trio is reunited in the worst of circumstances, altering the very perception Ellie has of the world.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: minor character death, canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insult, sexual content, non con, allusions to non con sexual advances, mentions of nausea but no vomiting, fighting, blood, reader gets injured, ellie gets injured, joel gets injured, guns, gun violence, creepy david gets his own warning, religious imagery, allusions to cannibalism, end of the world politics, end of the world rhetoric, allusions to pedophilia and grooming (bc of david), please let me know if i missed any!

A/N: well hello there, this was unexpected but procrastinating packing has led me here and who am i to argue? i hope this isn't too heavy of a chapter, but it sets up the remainder of the fic and we will see the end of it within 5-7 chapters. i've missed this little trio and their dynamic, even if it seems like i've wronged them in this latest installment

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You groaned out, your entire chest aching and sore. Sunlight too bright on your eyes and causing the throbbing in your head to amp up a notch. It felt like you had fallen or been thrown around. Entire body blooming with sensitive spots tender to pressure.

“Fuck.”

The ground was cold beneath you, hard and solid. Wind howled faintly but you had to be inside because you couldn’t feel it jostling your body. When you moved to push yourself up, your arms flexed against something tight around them. Blinking your eyes open, the only thing you could see was a barred fence and the brick wall behind it. There was a buzzing sound that seemed to consume the air around you, not helping the throbbing in your head.

You blinked a few times, coming back into your body and the buzzing sound suddenly shifted into a familiar voice.

“Bean, please wake up. You need to wake up, they’ll be back any minute.” It was Ellie, her voice a little raspy and her words far too fast to process as you shifted into a seated position. Your hands were bound around the wrists, rope tight and knotted around them. It wasn’t an official knot, but just a tangled mess of tied off twists that had been pulled on so much the fibers dug into your skin.

“What happened…?” Your head rolls on your shoulders, feeling out the kinks and knots in your muscles that would take years to work out. Fuck, you were getting old. But the clatter of something Ellie was doing had you up on your feet in a heartbeat, eyes wide and searching. She had been trying to use a bucket to get up into the window, to see out of it where it was high on the brick wall that backed up your separate cells. It had fallen with her weight on top of it, too much for how empty it was, the side of it dented in and she was standing beside it with a sheepish grimace.

“They attacked us, they hurt Joel. I-I-I tried to remember what you taught me about stitching but I couldn’t focus and they got cut one of our bags, the stuff you packed up fell out when I was trying to get us away.”

“Who…who attacked you?” You brought your tied hands up to your mouth and dug them into the rope, it tasted of dirt but you tried not to think of what else could be soaked into the fabric as you tore into it as best you could.

“Some guy named David, he found me when I was hunting. Joel needed something to eat, he’s not….Bean, he doesn’t look good.” You looked up through your hunched over position to see the shine of her eyes, the way she was trying to keep everything in check. But she was so young, kidnapped, stolen away from the one person who she had left in the world while you….while you had just gone off on your own.

Guilt flared and burned hot in your body, making you feel shameful and like you had caused all of this to happen. She seemed to sense it.

“They would’ve attacked either way, back at the school campus. They had been looking for people, they go there a lot, at least that’s what it seemed like.”

“You said you had to stitch him up, how bad was it? All I saw was a bat on broken in half.”

“You were there?”

“I was tracing your last known steps, I- I ran into my family and they told me they had been here but that it wasn’t…it wasn’t what it was promised to be. I’ll explain later. Ellie, tell me that they haven’t touched you, please.”

“No one’s…touched me, well they did when they tried to corner me and when they carried me here. But that David guy gives me the creeps.”

The way she was speaking, you weren’t sure she was understanding what you were saying. Which was both comforting that it was such an unfathomable thought in her mind, no real weight to the phrase of the words. But it was also damning in the way she really had no idea what you were talking about, her innocence and gullibility on the matter something you thought telling of her age and life thus far. But she had to know, she needed to be aware of the way people would take everything from one another, even if it would be a hard conversation to have, a hard pane of glass to shatter in her perception of the world she was now in the midst of outside the QZ walls.

“Don’t let him get you alone, you hear me? Do not let him touch you. He is a bad, terrible man. He’s a fucking-“

Ellie said your real name, the one printed neatly on your old license she had been so fascinated with.

“I think Joel is dying. I…I tried to trade with David, for some medicine, but when his guy came back with it they cornered me and said they were looking for the man who killed someone from their group back on the campus, that he had been traveling with a girl. They knew it was me, that it was us. He’s…Joel… he’s- he won’t wake up. I tried to do it how your showed me and I didn’t know where to put the medicine but I tried, he…he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“You’re okay, Ellie, I promise. You did,” You walk up to the fence separating you from each other, sticking your fingers through the gaps to get her to grasp as your hands. You were thankful she wasn’t tied up as you were but it also made your heart weary because it meant that this David was still trying to keep her guard down. “Everything you could. That medicine, even if it was put in the wrong spot, is what saved his life, he’s not waking up because it’s strong, it was penicillin, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. I think that’s what they called it.”

“That’s perfect, Ellie. That’s exactly what he needed. It’s a strong one, it’s in his system and he’s going to be okay. You stitched him up, you can lord that over him if you want once he’s better. Everything is going…everything it going to be okay.”

You could tell she wasn’t completely believing of your words but she was taking them, her furrowed brow relaxed just a bit and her fingers tangled with your own. She rested her forehead, swollen with a gash across the left side against the fence and you mimicked her.

“I was so scared.” She admitted on a quiet breath.

“I know, baby, but it’s okay. You did it, you got through the scary moment. Now all that’s left is to get out of here and back to Joel. He’s hidden somewhere, yeah? You made sure he was safe and inside somewhere?”

“Yeah, yes, he’s,” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how far it is, but he’s in a house, I dragged him to the basement and made sure he had all the sleeping bags and blankets on him, he…he looked so helpless. Bean, he looked-“

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I promise you, it’s all gonna be okay. He’s strong, he can-“

“He’s so stupid! You both are! None of this would have happened if you two hadn’t fought and just- we would’ve been together and those guys wouldn’t have gotten us if you two had fought them off!”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry. We- we didn’t, we…needed some space. Joel, he-“

“He’s a fucking baby! He’s…he’s dying and he…he won’t even get to see you one last time.”

“Hey!” You couldn’t help the sharp tone nor the volume of your shout. “Ellie, you look at me and you listen.”

She does, her eyes wide and shining as she takes in the sight of you tied up and confined just like she is.

The situation is anything but ideal, it’s heartbreaking and too heavy on your shoulders. But at least you were with her now, she had help now. She wasn’t alone.

“Joel is not going to die. You got him the medicine he needed. It takes time. You and I are going to get out of this situation, we will. And then we will find him. We are going to be okay, it was a lesson that needed to be learned and it will stick. You need to understand that things happen for a reason. This is one of those times and no one is at fault.”

She nods, once and then again before she’s moving about her enclosure and explaining to you the ways she’s tried to find weaknesses in it. No screws were loose, no bars were rusted or weak. The window was too high, the fence too strong. You’re watching her as you tear at the rope once again with your teeth, the sound of it tearing quiet and rattling through you each time a thread snapped.

Ellie’s body is suddenly flying to the chain link barrier that separates you, her breathing harsh.

“Ear.”

“Ear?”

“On the floor, by the drain.”

“What- oh.” You feel your stomach lurch when you spot it, the cut off cartilage laying beside a drain surrounded by thick drops of dried blood.

“They-“

“They’re monsters.”

The door was opening before you could say anything else. The evidence of how these people lived, of how David provided for his people telling you how depraved and desperate they were. How he chose to feed his people when there was ample woods and forest to hunt in just beyond the cluster of buildings they reside in, the houses only a short trek nearby they could scavenge in.

He wasn’t what you pictured, but he was exuding predatory energy as he approached the chain link fencing of the enclosure. Rather thin and with waning fair hair, he knelt down to slide a tray adorned with a bowl of something far too bright red, a spoon, and a mug of water. You sincerely hope Ellie hadn’t taken anything offered to her, not putting it past the man to drug her. But she remains as close to you as she can get, hand reaching for yours through the fence.

“I don’t have enough for you both. But I assume you wouldn’t care for anything I offered.” David aims at you, eyes trained on the way Ellie is clinging to you as best she can. How she’s still as a statue and her own eyes are trained on the food given to her.

You don’t say anything, unsure of what you would even if your voice came back to you. The rope still wrapped but no longer knotted around your wrists allows you to feel powerful if only a little.

Ellie looks from the food finally, toward the ear and David follows her gaze as he remains kneeled on the ground. He seems almost remorseful at the discovery you two had made in his absence and you wonder if his people knew the truth about the food they were consuming. A part of you hoped they had no clue, even if it meant David felt no fear or shame about manipulating those who willingly followed him to the very edge of humanity.

“For what it’s worth, this is just deer meat. I swear.” He tries to hide his monstrosity, to no avail. You wouldn’t believe him even if you didn’t know him, even if you were starving.

“You’re going to chop me up into little pieces. Both of us.”

“I’d rather not,” He keeps her gaze, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence in the face of Ellie’s fear. He’s feeding off it, reveling in the way she’s speaking willingly for what you believe the first time since he turned on her in the woods and she ran from him. “Please, just tell me your name.”

“If you wanna judge me-“

“Judge you?” She’s shouting, her voice harsh as she lets go of your hand and storms up to the door of her enclosure, far too close to the man for your comfort. But she kicks at the tray, sending it flying across the floor and knocking into the large butchers block atop a storage table cemented into the ground, the too red meat splashes color onto the dull tile. “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

David is surging up, though every move he’s making is calculated. He doesn’t look shocked or surprised, not taken aback by the words or actions of Ellie as she turns her back on him and corners herself as far away from the door as possible.

“Yes. There are only a few of us that know.” “But I would’ve told you.”

He’s watching you now, just past her. Calculating as he takes in the way your body is practically shaking as instincts warn you to get as far away from this man and this place as possible.

“I would’ve told you and your mother. Sooner or later. I guess sooner, to help tide you into our group.”

“You’re an animal.”

“Well, yes, we all are. That’s sorta the point.” David agrees, not wanting to dispute her, trying to earn her favor by being frank.

“It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do?”

“I would not let these people starve. These people who put their lives in my hands, who e-expect me to keep them safe, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ellie replies quickly, her emotions beginning to get the better of her. But you meet the man’s gaze and sneer opening at him.

“There are woods just beyond here, houses and neighborhoods to scavenge. You have men, could they not provide in a better way? No, I suppose not, because you’re weak. Helpless in the face of the world, of the way things are. You’d rather tear people down and prey on them instead of think critically, you’re nothing but a weak leader, guiding your people to their death.”

“Starvation would’ve only set in sooner if I were to concentrate efforts on such fruitless endeavors. I don’t think you believe it would’ve been better. I don’t think your friend would either.” He’s moving, mirroring Ellie’s pacing as he looks down at the food she’s wasted. “Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“He was defending himself.”

“He was defending you.” He meets her steps as she stops, standing right in front of her with nothing but the bars and air separating them, and you feel every muscle in your body tense. “But you knew that.”

“You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you? Me.” His smile is small but he truly believes the words he’s spouting, the intent behind them clear. He means to take her under his wing, to mold her into a reflection of himself. Manipulate her into an image of his likeness. “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, you’re smart…loyal.”

“Violent.” He concludes, seeing the was she’s trembling with emotion.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“But I do. If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. And you wouldn’t look to the woman behind you, you would do it without a thought. You have a violent heart. And I should know.” He stalks closer, his steps quiet and measured. “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time.”

Your blood runs cold, the words flowing from the man chilling your very soul. He was depraved, he was sick as he tried to appeal to Ellie, to connect with her. His words revealing in more ways than he realized, than Ellie was able to read. You were sure she had no clue what he was doing, not exactly. Not aware of the way he was seeking her out and it made your heart ache even more so as you watched it happen in real time, the dance he orchestrates to get those he’s interested in to see him, to hear him. To fall in line and dance with him.

“But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…by God.” Ellie dubiously connects the dots of the man’s speech. But he’s not making much sense to her, you can tell. The message is loud and clear to you. He’s been inspired, taken the world as it fell and turned it into his own playground of sorts. You’ve encountered men like him before, set to play God and manipulate the conditions around them to their favor. The shepherd to lead sheep blindly as they need something to cling to. Something to believe in. But he’s a false prophet, one that is selfish and wasteful, no skills of his own to fall on so he uses those around him to his advantage, to propel himself into the next day, time and time again.

“No. By cordyceps.” He sounds reverent, praising and preaching the very thing that eradicated humanity in droves. Sounding so much like those that used to deliver sermons and dictate what sins the people before him had committed, promising them salvation when he was the one to damn them in the first place with perceived power he did not truly possess. “What does cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you can handle it. The way the others can’t.” He stalks even closer. More measured steps, as calculated at his words. “They need God. They need heaven. They need…they need a father. You don’t.”

The room is silent, his focus not leaving her even as you shift on your aching feet.

“You don’t. You’re beyond that.” He repeats, appealing to her. Admonishing her with praise and tenacity for being ‘better’ than those he believes he needs to look out for and is responsible for. “I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

“What about my friend?” Ellie demands, Joel on her mind as the man in front of her displays the complete opposite of everything he stands for. It makes her wish for him to be here, to be better, to beat the threat into submission as it closes in on her. But he’s not here, it’s just her and him. You are too trapped to help in your own cell.

“Like I said, loyal. I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

“Really? They’ll just let him go?” She’s matching his steps now and your stomach plummets.

“Yes. If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go. The woman behind you too, should she leave peacefully as well. They do what I tell them to do. They follow me.”

“And they would follow us. Lord knows I could use the help. I- Look what’s happened.” He reaches out and places a hand on the bars of the door, causing you to step forward as far as you can into the fence that separates you from Ellie. The target the man has set his sights on. “Think of what we could do together, as strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie’s reaching to touch a hand of her own to his and you feel something in you snap, you didn’t know what she was thinking, what she was doing and it was heartbreaking to see her move toward the man manipulating her. Playing her, dancing so eloquently around her and ensnaring her in his orbit. If only she would fucking look back at you over her shoulder. His hand moves to rest over hers and you feel the cold touch of his fingers as if he had touched you instead of her. The chilling skin of someone who had done this before, who was doing it again. Heeding the example of the very thing that had ruined the world as if it was something to admire. “Imagine the life we could give them. Imagine the life we could build.”

“Oh.” Her voice is so small, so quiet. And you feel acid bubble and rise to your throat as she brings her other hand to rest over his, cradling his hand almost.

And then her shoulders tense and she’s snapping his fingers, the loud cracking of bone filling the air as the man wails out, crumbles at the assault.

Ellie makes a grab for the keys hanging from his belt, but he snatches the front of her sweater and pulls her harshly into the bars. Her head collides with one and she’s reeling back before he has the chance to tighten his grip on her again, tearing out of it.

“You little cunt.” He swears, cradling his wounded hand tight to his chest. Anger colors him, shakes him to his core as he realizes the task he set for himself won’t be as easy as he anticipated. “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

“Ellie.”

“What?” Turning, he seems taken aback by the quiet admittance from the young girl. As if he isn’t quite sure he heard her correctly or he could believe that she chose now of all times to answer his questions.

“Tell them that Ellie is the little girl- who broke your fucking finger!” She shouts so loudly that she shakes with it, the words nearly growled out.

“How did you put it? Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces’?” He taunts, though you can see the fear shift into a twisted sense of admiration. Frustration at being bested turning into confidence in her skills and the desire to best her glimmering in his eye before he turns away completely.

As soon as the door slams behind him and the lock clicks, she’s rushing across her enclosed space and reaching for you. She’s hiccupping and coughing as blood drips down her nose and busted lip, smearing it all over your own sweater as you try to hold her to you as best you could through the divide.

The door opens once again, some time later but it’s not David that enters. It’s two men with a third behind them. The lock of your cell clicks loudly as they open in and step inside, two of them while the third remains by the door.

The two men who were approaching you with a needle had you standing so fast your knees cracked. In her own cage, Ellie flew up to stand from her own crouch as close as she could get to you. She watched as you stood as straight at you could, to make yourself look as tall as possible and she mirrored it. The two men worked together to lock the slim opening behind them, keys going into a front pocket. There was rope in one of their hands, the other with the needle.

“We got you cornered, don’t know why David was insistent on locking you up, you’re no bigger than the girl. Look about as frail as her too.”

“Pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Wouldn’t mind giving you the promise of safety here if it meant-“

“Enough, do not taunt her. She’s liable to be just as violent as the man.”

David appeared in the doorway of the space, watching with a newly bandaged hand. You couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in your middle at that. Ellie had done good, even if it had been hard to watch. Hard to watch and hear as he propositioned her. You had been in too much pain to do much about it, but it had allowed you to see what he was truly wanting with the young girl you considered family. The same he had wanted from your younger cousin. He was a sick, twisted man. Vile in the worst way one could be.

“You think I’m trapped in here with you?” You clicked your tongue at them, bringing your arms up to fend them off should they take one step closer to you, revealing that you had gotten out of your bindings. Your smile was wicked as you stared at them both, daring them to close the gap. “You’re trapped in here with me.”

You tried to focus on the man helping David drag the young girl from her own cage and the two coming at you, but it was all chaos. Loud, screaming, threatening and chilling chaos. They lunged at you, throwing the blanket they had in their grip over you and then you found yourself being hauled up by your thrashing hands and feet, each man holding tight to your body as they carried you out of the room.

As you’re being carried out, you hear another man and David’s voice speaking. Ellie is furious, her rage and desperation coming into play as you disappear and she’s left along with the man whose set his intentions on her. You try to scream, to tell her to run, to hurt, to kill and David’s laugh is the last thing you hear before gravity shifts and you’re in a new room separate from them.

There was a table, and a few chairs, that much was all you knew as your back was slammed onto a hard surface. The feeling of your pants being tugged at striking a primal fear deep inside your chest. It’s useless, your hands are bound once again between two larger ones, and the blanket over your form prohibits you from fighting back as well as you want to. The knife that you feel cutting at the fabric of your jeans tearing into your skin around your thighs and you try to scream and snarl as you rock yourself back and forth between the two men. You manage to kick the one with the knife at the end of the table and you head him land hard on the ground, the blade clattering to the floor.

Surging up, you spin and kick at the other man, tearing the blanket from over your head and diving off the table to grab at the fallen weapon. It’s your machete and you smile, tasting blood from the scuffle as you take in the small room you had been dragged to. The man you kicked had fallen harshly enough to open the back of his head and he lay motionless on the ground, a chair thrown from his body careening through the air.

The second man is reaching for you, grabbing at your hair and pulling you to him. The needle that had been in his grip in the other room plunges into your arm and a scream bubbles up. The blade in your hand is cutting you lose, thick strands of your hair flying up into the air as you fall to the ground from the force of being freed. He’s hissing, the blade having caught along his fingers. You try to get back up on your feet just in time to see him reaching for something hidden in the waistband of his pants

You’re lunging at him with the blade gripped tight in your hand. His stomach bleeds where you cut him and he moves his hands over the seeping wound with a strangled sound of protest. Its deep, his widened eyes meeting yours just before he collapses.

Rushing, you stormed into the room you had been taken from to see Ellie grabbing hold of a knife and slashing the man who had taken a step back from where she was laid out on a table much like you had been. Thankfully all of her clothes were in place and she seemed relatively unharmed. Blood sprayed into the air and David seemed to be shocked by her violence, stunned into silence for a moment long enough to allow the young girl to scramble off the butcher’s block and through the door.

David doesn’t even glance at you as he chases after her, the door locking behind him as your body slams into it. He smiles something vile and sickly sweet before he’s off after her, disappearing from view.

A few moments later, the smell of smoke and fire waft down the hall. Your efforts intensify, the need to find Ellie consuming you. Your mind focused on her and only her even as the skin of your thighs sting and bleed. The hair that had fallen loose tangles and swings with your efforts to break the door down, the wood of it getting too hot to slam your fists into or jostle the doorknob. Huffing a breath, you look around the room but there’s nothing to use to knock it loose.

As carefully as you can, you grip the top of the handle of the machete and slam the butt of it down on the doorknob. Once and then again, the splintering of wood loud even as the crackling of flames becomes obvious as the door pops open. It’s all smoke and darkness as you shuffle through the room in the crouch. The sound of flames licking at the support beams of thick wood loud, the taste and smell of smoke tickling your lungs when you finally see a figure downed on the ground.

Heart beating harshly, you approach it with your weapon held in front, but it’s not Ellie needing to be saved. It’s David. And he’s dead. His face bloody and broke, his body limp and immobile.

Ellie is no where to be seen and the room’s heat tries to take you for a second victim.

You collided with something hard and solid as you tear out of the building, the force of it knocking you down to the ground. The impact of your body sending snow flying up, blood smearing the ground in a bright display. You shouted as you fell, terror being the only thing that could be heard in your wordless exclamation. You spun from your side quickly, neck hurting from moving so fast, only to see two more men around you, just as shocked where they had been knocked down at the impact. They didn’t have any weapons but that didn’t matter. Everyone and anyone in this whole god damn place was a threat.

A stab of worry has you gasping for air as you quickly righted yourself, hoping Ellie had gotten out of here without running into anyone else. You had no idea what had happened between the time she had escaped and you had managed to do the same. The building you had burst from was crackling behind you, flames rising high despite the freezing temperatures. But the mangled body of David was the only clue as to what had happened. You spotted a third figure approaching in the distance, though it was moving fairly slowly toward you.

With a loud shriek you lunged at the man still on the ground, the other struggling to right himself where he had fallen over his own feet. The machete in your grip came to catch the man before you across his front, his shouts and pleas falling on deaf ears as you could feel your whole-body struggle against the drugs still pumping through your veins, your mind focused on one thing: survival. The squelching sound of you cutting into his throat had the other man struggling to get on his feet stumble in shock at the brutality.

“What the fuck!” His shout was loud, his eyes wide as he watched you murder his companion. All they had done was come out see what the roaring of the fire had been, you had flown from the building as they talked over what could’ve happened.

You round on him, eyes wild as he just shouted at you, trying to get away from you as quickly as he could. The snow was falling so heavily, the denseness of it already built up on the ground tripping him up on his injured ankles. He turned back to look at you over his shoulder, freezing as he saw the figure closing in behind you. You turn slightly as well to see how much distance there was between you and both men. You sprinted forward toward the one trying to get away, him being the closer of the two. He shouts as he throws his entire body to run into you, knocking over your smaller frame, hands scrabbling for the blade in your hands. It was knocked away as your back hit the ground, the man falling over you. He righted himself, legs on either side of you and your mind went white in rage.

“Not again!” You shriek, bringing your knees up to knock into him, kicking with all your might. Your hands grappling for a grip on his arms, you managed to land a few hits and used his moment of stillness to push up. You slammed his back on the ground hard as you flipped over, the pain immobilizing him just enough for you to do so. You realized you were screaming as your clenched fists landed hit after hit to his face, his neck, his chest. Blood was flying off your knuckles to splatter in the snow, on your face, your hands covered in the thick red liquid. You were sure it was just another layer to the grime and dried blood that had already covered your entire body and form. When the man went still below you, you crawled to where the machete had fallen in the scuffle. You brought it up to cover your front as you turned on your back, the figure too close for you to risk scrambling back up. Your chest heaving, your clothes were ripped, you were covered in blood and your eyes were wild as they connected with a pair of brown ones above you.

The figure pauses, hands coming up in front of them, but you weren’t taking anymore chances. The figure didn’t make another move toward you, but you weren’t seeing anything other than a threat. Your mind blurring the figure in front of you into every man that had every tried to touch you, into every man that had. You got your feet up under you and pushed yourself to stand, machete coming up and swiping as you try to put more distance between you and the tall figure. They hiss as the sharp edge of the blade catches one of their raised forearms.

“You’re not gonna fuckin’ touch me!” You holler, voice hoarse and so unlike your own. It’s tone low, it was terrifying, it was a touch desperate, and it was exactly how you were afraid of being heard. But it was harsh, tone hard and serious. You couldn’t stop the words from tearing through your throat, nearly growled out. “Your fuckin’ friends are dead and I’ll kill you too!”

You sway on your feet, the drugs in your system still fighting to overpower you. Your hair wild and loose, the choppy strands evidence of where you had cut it to try and free yourself earlier. The move had only saved you minutes of agony, years of growth erased in one swift motion. Your shoulders ached as you kept the blade up between you and the figure. They hadn’t moved, hands still held up in front of them and that’s when you realized they were talking to you. That you were still making guttural sounds deep in your raw throat. Warnings aimed at them to not get closer to you, that you would kill them just as swiftly as you had the others who opposed your escape. The hesitant voice cutting through the haze of your mind. Your eyes focused, the figure coming into view. It was Joel. But it had registered a second too late, you had already lunged at them, blade swinging.

He grunts as the blade makes contact with his shoulder. You had tried to stop the momentum, but you had swung so hard that between him not moving to save himself and you realizing it was him too late, the blade still cut into him. It wasn’t deadly, as it would’ve been, but it wasn’t a shallow hit either. He’s missing his jacket, the remaining layers of his clothes took most of the damage, but he would need stitches. The blade is still gripped tight in your hands, but it was lowered now, shaking. He looks from the new wound to you, his hands wanting to grasp at it but not doing so out of fear of triggering another swing. His eyes are pleading, he’s desperate for you to see that it’s him, not someone who was trying to harm you

“It’s me, it’s Joel.” He didn’t dare say you were okay. He knows you aren’t. He knows Ellie wasn’t from the way she had been screaming much the same way when he had found her. Her fear had been heartbreaking, it had hurt beyond words to see her, to hear the sheer terror in her voice as she had hit and fought against him before she realized who he was. Yours was shattering, you were covered in more blood, and from the looks of it a lot of it was yours. Not the way he envisioned seeing you again after going about your separate ways. His eyes lingered on the rips in your pants, blood coating your thighs underneath.

“J-Joel?” You repeated, as if it was a foreign name, as if he wasn’t real. He hadn’t been, during the entire ordeal. Ellie telling you what had happened, the way she had tried to help him, you had compartmentalized his death already. Knowing the odds of fighting off a wound like that, dirty stitches made with a rusted needle, infection quick to set in even in far better circumstances. It had been logical, the only outcome for such a medical condition in this time with no aid, no sterile environment.

You were still heaving, trying to regain your breath, the drugs in your system making it hard to do so. You swayed again but didn’t release your tight grip on your weapon, on your salvation. You startled so badly you swung out as the building on fire lost part of its roof to a cave in. Joel stepped back quickly at the motion, not wanting another harsh cut. That machete was dangerous on its own, but in your hands, it was an extension of yourself, lethal, not to be taken lightly.

“Joel?” Your voice sounded clearer, the height of your emotions calming slightly. You shook your head, not believing it, your emotions and the drugs blurring your vision of the only man you trusted.

“It’s me, I promise.” He dared to step toward you, reaching out to you slowly. You seemed to be frozen, eyes fixated on him. He was squarely in front of you now, his hands coming out to grasp over yours on the handle of the machete. He gently pried it from you, you still beneath him. The second it was out of your hands, he moved to place it in his bag, sealing it away. When he turned back to face you, you threw yourself at him, burying your face in his chest. He could feel your body convulse with harsh sobs, the sounds of you trying to suck in oxygen hiccupped by shuddering cries. Your fingers were digging into his arms so tightly that it hurt but he didn’t dare say anything, he just slowly brought his arms around your back.

“We need to move before the rest of the town comes out.” He spoke lowly, not wanting to spook you into throwing punches. He had seen you pummel that man’s face to nothing, and it scared him you could do the same to him in a blind panic. You just nodded, not moving, body shivering against him as he tried to console you. He didn’t think he would ever be able to, not with this, not with what his brain was telling him had happened here in this nightmare of a town. He tried to take a step, but you didn’t budge, hands tightening on him. “Darlin’, we gotta move.”

“I can’t f-feel my legs. They drugged me and I think it’s kicking in.” You looked up at him, eyes shiny with tears. You looked so defeated and he was scared you were going to look like that for the rest of your life. He couldn’t see any part of the woman you were before this in your face, in your eyes. He hadn’t seen any of who Ellie had been before either and his heart hurt in his chest. He pulled away from you and moved to scoop you up bridal style, but you weakly pushed at him. “No, you’re gonna hurt yourself, p-pull your stitches.”

You shift on your feet, leaning heavily into his left side.

“I got Ellie safe in the brush, I didn’t want to leave her, but she said they still had you locked up.” He didn’t dare say locked up in a cage, the feeling of those words settling heavily in him. They had locked you and Ellie up like animals, like things to be used at their convenience. The fire spread to the surrounding buildings, the freezing air offering no relief for the town. “She told me to save you, that they-“

“They’re dead.” The parody of a conversation from long ago in the darkness of a small forest clearing not lost on either of you.

“I know, darlin��. But we gotta go. Now.” He watches as splotches of color began to pepper the snow, people emerging from the buildings. People he didn’t have the energy to kill now that he had you in his arms and Ellie was waiting for them to retrieve her. As you hastily distanced yourself from the burning town, you felt Joel lean into you as much as you were leaning into him. Two broken and beaten people trying to offer whatever solace as you retrieved Ellie. She was smothered between you both, shielding her from the world as you moved further, further, further away. The snow was blinding as it whipped around your little trio but you didn’t look back. None of you did.

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darth-mortem · 7 months ago

Text

Here is my new SoapGhost+AleRudy fic.

Ghost and Soap are on leave in Mexico, and on the last day, Alejandro gives Simon some advice that leads to an unexpected result. 1735 words.

The hot Mexican sun began to sink towards the sunset, painting the endless sky in hundreds of shades of red and orange. It was still light, but garlands of multi-colored lanterns were already lit above the tables and the bar outside. There was nothing but desert and hills around, but Ghost, who sat at the counter with Alejandro, knew that Monterey was somewhere to the south and the US border to the north. This complex was about halfway between them: an indoor restaurant, an outdoor bar with music to dance to, a truck stop, and a small motel. Truckers, bikers, and tourists traveling to Mexico by car, as well as smugglers and bandits stopped here for to rest. The the latter, however, were especially quiet today because Los Vaqueros, led by their commander, Colonel Alejandro Vargas, as well as two members of TF 141—Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant MacTavish—were resting here.

You can keep reading here or on Ao3

“It’s good that you came to us on leave.” Alejandro said, taking his glass of whiskey.

“Yeah.” Ghost answered, smoking his cigarette. “Thank you for inviting us. And for this party.”

“It was Rudy’s idea.” The colonel smiled a little crookedly. “Like you, I’m not too fond of it all, but it doesn’t hurt for the boys to have a little fun.”

“Looks like they’re really having fun.” The lieutenant said, glancing at the dance floor.

Several Vaqueros crowded around Rudy and Johnny, who were dancing to some Mexican song. They were holding beer bottles and laughing merrily as they moved quickly and rhythmically, one opposite the other. Ghost involuntarily stared at how easy and casual Soap was dancing. The lieutenant didn’t know if Johnny learned it somewhere or if it was a natural ability, but it was impossible not to admire the way he moved his hips. Rodolfo, however, was no worse, and two sergeants seem to be having a dance battle to the whistles and cheers of the Vaqueros. If someone were to look at Riley and Vargas sitting behind the counter now, they couldn’t help but notice how identical their gazes were, directed at the dancers. They were full of tenderness, warmth, and love that were not characteristic of these tough and harsh warriors.

Alejandro twirled in his fingers the wedding ring that hung on a chain around his neck, along with his dog tags. Simon smiled quietly, shaking the glass in his hand in time with the music.

“Hey, Lt.!” Johnny turned and waved at Ghost, then went back to dancing.

Simon’s smile grew wider; then he suddenly sighed and sipped his whiskey. Alejandro looked at him with a slight frown and asked:

“What’s wrong, hermano*?”

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Johnny and Rudy, sighed again, and reached into his jeans pocket, touching something that was lying there.

“I wanted to propose to him while on this leave.” He said it quietly. “But somehow there was no right moment, you know.”

The colonel raised his eyebrow in surprise, not imagining that Riley could be so indecisive. However, then he remembered how he hesitated himself, how he waited for the best moment, and how, as a result, everything turned out completely differently than he had planned. He began to talk about how any moment was right for soldiers like them because their lives were unpredictable and could end at any second. Ghost listened to him, but then the shouts and laughter from the side of the dance floor grew louder, and they both turned their gazes there again.

The music changed, and Soap, cheered by the delighted audience, jumped onto the table. Smoothly swaying his hips, he slowly took off his T-shirt and started twirling it over his head. Rodolfo stared at Johnny for a few seconds. Then he joined and started to move in time with Soap, undoing the buttons on his cowboy shirt.

Alejandro put down his glass and stood up, frowning. Ghost followed his example. They looked at each other and made a determined move to the dance floor to stop their partners, who had crossed all boundaries of decency. At least, the colonel thought that was what they were going for, but the lieutenant had other plans. He walked slowly, clutching the object in his pocket with his fingers, and meanwhile, Alejandro was already at the table, extending his hand to Rudy.

“Hey, cowboy,” he said, smiling, “why don’t you come with me?”

“So, Ale?” Fired up by the dance, Rodolfo, in his unbuttoned shirt, laughed merrily and took the colonel’s hand extended to him. “Do you have a stallion that I need to ride?”

The Vaqueros let out a restrained chuckle, enjoying the sight. Alejandro’s gaze became absolutely mad, and Rudy finally jumped off the table, holding onto his hand. Whispering something in the colonel’s ear, the Vaqueros sergeant dragged him to the motel to the applause of their soldiers. Ghost noticed the same chain with dog tags and a wedding ring as Alejandro’s around Rudy’s neck.

“And what aboot ye, Lt.?” Soap’s voice snapped Ghost out of his thoughts, and he looked at his sergeant, who continued. “Dae ye want a private dance tae?”

He smiled and tossed his T-shirt into Simon’s hands; the Vaqueros exchanged glances, anticipating the show to continue.

“Actually, I want something else.” Ghost said. “I want you to marry me, Johnny.”

There was silence after these words. Everyone held their breath, and Lieutenant Riley pulled out a wedding ring from his pocket and handed it to Sergeant MacTavish.

Johnny, half-naked and standing on the table, suddenly felt awkward. He had imagined this moment many times, but he was sure that Simon wasn’t ready for such a serious step. And so, it turned out that the lieutenant wasn’t just ready but also completely disregarded the situation and the audience.

“Is that... a proposal?” Soap asked quietly, and a blush covered his cheeks.

“Negative.” Ghost answered firmly. “It’s an order!”

“Well… So aye, sir!”

Johnny reached out, and Simon put the ring on his finger before lifting him off the table, grabbing him by the waist, and kissing him passionately to the whistles and cheers of the Vaqueros.

The party continued, but without Ghost and Soap. They went to their room, which was next door to Alejandro and Rudy’s, to celebrate their engagement, just the two of them. They took a bottle of whiskey but didn’t even touch it; as soon as the door closed behind them, Johnny pressed his whole body against Simon, kissed him again, and pulled him into bed.

It was dawning when Soap finally fell asleep. Tired and happy, he lay naked with his arms and legs spread out so he occupied almost the entire wide double bed. Ghost could move him and lie down too, but instead he covered Johnny with a thin blanket and leaned down, kissing his temple. Then he pulled on his jeans and balaclava and left the room, clutching his cigarettes.

It was very quiet around: the music wasn’t playing, the bar and dance floor were empty. The dawn sun painted the sky a soft pink in the east, while it was still dark above the lieutenant’s head. He lit his cigarette, took a long drag with pleasure, and, unusually for him, a warm and joyful smile appeared on his lips.

Not so long ago, Ghost thought that he would never be able to feel happy again. The terrible trials that befell him didn’t let him go even in his sleep, and he learned to live with them until a ray of sunshine called Johnny MacTavish appeared in his gloomy life. His warmth and irresistible cheerfulness melted the ice that bound Lieutenant Riley’s wounded heart; now he could feel joy, smile, and love again.

The door’s creak and footsteps distracted Ghost from his thoughts. He tensed, but immediately relaxed again when Alejandro sat next to him on the stairs and also lit a cigarette.

“Can’t sleep?” The colonel asked.

“Yeah, something like that.” Ghost smirked, glancing at Alejandro slyly. “I followed your advice.”

“What advice?” Alejandro raised his eyebrow.

“I proposed to Johnny.” The lieutenant said. “Didn’t wait any longer. And he said ‘yes’.”

“You what?” The colonel stared at Ghost, forgetting about the cigarette in his fingers. “When?!”

Riley briefly told when and how everything happened, and Alejandro laughed. Then he stopped abruptly, looked at the lieutenant again, and shook his head.

“What?” Ghost asked. “You said that every moment is good for this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but not this moment!” Alejandro exclaimed. “Not the moment when your boyfriend is dancing striptease on the fucking table! However, never mind. ‘m happy for you, hermano!”

“Thank you.” The lieutenant nodded and stood up. “See you later.”

Alejandro waved and lit another cigarette.

Ghost quietly returned to the room. It was hot here despite the open window, and Johnny managed to throw off the covers. Looking at him tenderly, the lieutenant took off his boots and jeans, adjusted his balaclava, and lay down. Soap didn’t wake up but stirred, clinging to Ghost and wrapping his arms and legs around him. It was even hotter that way, but Simon knew it was impossible to push Johnny away, and he didn’t really want to. Smiling, he kissed the sergeant’s sweaty temple through his balaclava and closed his eyes.

Rodolfo hadn’t been sleeping so soundly, so when Alejandro entered the room, he opened his eyes and lifted himself up on his elbows.

“Where have you been?” He asked, yawning.

“Smoked.” Alejandro answered and smiled. “I met Ghost and he told me that he proposed to Soap when we went away. Can you imagine it?”

Rudy opened his mouth, really trying to imagine, then laughed, shaking his head.

“I’d like to see how they’ll tell their children about it, if they ever have them.” He said it cheerfully and continued, trying to copy Sergeant MacTavish’s Scottish accent. “Well, yer dad proposed tae me while I was standing half-naked oan th’ table where I’d been dancing after drinking tequila ‘n’ beer.”

“That sounds terrible.” Alejandro laughed, taking off his clothes.

He lay down, hugging Rudy, who rested his head on the colonel’s shoulder, fingers fumbling for the wedding ring on the chain around his neck.

“Te amo mi corazón.**” Alejandro whispered. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Rodolfo smiled happily, closing his eyes, and they quickly fell asleep to rest before returning to their hard but much-needed work.

*Hermano (Spanish) – brother

**Te amo mi corazón (Spanish) – I love you, my heart

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tennessoui · 10 months ago

Note

hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.

oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!

(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)

(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)

35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs

(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)

Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.

Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.

Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.

Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.

And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.

It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.

It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.

But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.

It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.

Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever.

That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.

His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.

It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.

Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced.

Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.

But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.

The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.

If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.

A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.

Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.

“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”

“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.

“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”

Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”

Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”

“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.

He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.

It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.

“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”

Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.

He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.

And Saak’s right, shit.

The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.

He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.

In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.

Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen.

“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous.

One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”

The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”

“You drugged him!”

The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”

His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?

He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.

Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly.

Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety.

“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.

It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate.

And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions.

“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.

“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.

This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.

“Not a kid,” the kid says.

“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid.

And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.

Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.

He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.

And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.

The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”

The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.

Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.

“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”

“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”

“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.

“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.

It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.

“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”

It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.

Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.

Why would the rebellion be any different?

When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.

He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.

The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.

And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.

It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.

But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi!

It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.

The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.

It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate.

Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.

Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.

He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.

He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways.

But—Vader is asleep.

And no one would have to know.

If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.

He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands. Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.

It is a sickly looking red.

It is not a blade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.

And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.

The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #vaderwan #anakin is going to wake up and be like aw why is he being so distant and grouchy #and obi-wan is going to be like i cant believe im helping someone who probably helped murder my family #but then vader who has not experienced kindness from strangers before #keeps coming back for more kindness from this grumpy stranger #this is like #non consensual adoption of a grumpy bartender au #or something lmao

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bumblepony · 3 months ago

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Fic Rec Friday Monday

I missed this on Friday and there were so many good fic's last week I needed to highlight them.

rewrite (an ending or two) - Deleted and alternate scenes from a safe place to land, a hopeful stranger, kiss from the lips of a monster, and/or October/November: Interlude by my fantastic friend @two-birds-alone-together.

Parallel Lines - A sequel to the lovely Snowqueen of Texas by @hypnotisedfireflies about our favorite repressed smugglers, Tess/Joel, in a modern setting with no outbreak.

the sun’s probably shining in wyoming - Mature - Tess lives. She and Joel build a life in Jackson. A day in each season over the course of a year. This fic is written by none other than @march-flowerr for GTHB (Good Things Happen Bingo), and it has all the things you could possibly hope for in a fic: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, found family.

corals and kings - Ellie, Joel, and a collection of important late night sleepovers. Set in the in-between of Part 1 and Part 2. Ellie's dealing with her feelings about Joel's lie and what they mean to each other. It's beautiful, and it's written by my first Tumblr bestie, @ciaconnaa.

Eat Your Young - Joel stumbles into Ellie five years earlier while he's still a hunter with Tommy. It changes everything, and nothing, about their story. This exciting concept fic is ongoing and has me in a chokehold, written by blue_calico on AO3.

Dinosaur - Joel and Ellie deal with some stupid cold temperatures and assorted shenanigans (the not-fun kind) in and around the town of…Dinosaur, CO. Their adventures have continued on from Dinosaur and it's only gotten better and worse. Seriously love this fic written by @femmefacetious here on Tumblr.

Of Artists and Architects - Mature - A Cordyceps-Free Tessjoel AU Tess and Joel meet at the bar, where she bartends part-time while teaching art at a local college. Fun shenanigans ensue, with lots of angst, found family, smut, and fluff. I love this version of Joel/Tess, and every time @oliviassunrise updates, it has me running.

#tlou #tlou fanfiction #ao3 #fic recs #the last of us

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sullustangin · 9 months ago

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Fluffy February 2024 Master List

Huzzah! I wrote 29 things for Fluffy February (ok, 28 things plus one very fluffy chapter for my bigger fluffy fan fic).

Highlights: I developed my canon for both Lenn Teraan and Cole Cantarus. I wrote another Akaavi/Mako piece (someone needs to write them an epic Carbonite Years fic). I posted my most explicit work so far (is that a low light?). Dr. Oggurobb has decided to weigh in a lot lately.

I'll post the round up list, and then reblog with the AO3 link.

Snow -- 10 ATC - the smuggler crew lands on Alderaan

Eavesdrop -- 22 ATC -- Someone is spying in the cantina.

Entertain -- 21 ATC -- Theron and Eva do an intel drop at a casino.

Learn -- 10 ATC -- Eva learns how to dance from Lenn Teraan.

Planet -- 29 ATC (chronologically "now" in canon) -- Eva buys a planet. Because.

Fire -- 36 ATC -- Eva, Theron, and the big family on Odessen roast marshmallows.

Recovery -- 24 ATC -- Eva recovers from the Nathema Conspiracy. Risha makes sure of it. CW for untended anorexia.

Smile --over the years -- Theron's teeth may not be real, but his smiles are.

Storm -- 5 ATC -- Eva meets her first magnetic storm.

Care -- 21/22 ATC -- After Theron is injured, Eva makes sure he gets the care he needs.

Quest -- 39 ATC -- Theron and his band of adventurers... need to go to bed.

Discipline -- 40 BTC -- the Grand Admiral headcanon/backstory that's been rattling around.

Splurge -- 25 ATC -- Eva buys Theron a gift that isn't exactly what he wanted.

Free space! I added to Elysium, for a little while.

Craft -- Carbonite Years -- Akaavi knits something for Mako for the first time; in terms of the relationship, that's a big deal.

Spontaneous --- Theron and Eva rope Lana into one of their schemes.

Pleasure -- 22 ATC -- Eva speculates on some of the alternative universes in which she met Theron differently.

Pain -- sometime between 25 ATC and 29 ATC -- Bit of a kinky piece wherein Theron has his old scars replaced by Eva. This is Explicit for sexual activity, biting, bruising, and blood.

Shadow -- the legend of the Voidhound, from a child's perspective.

Partners -- 21 ATC -- A Theron/Eva heist fic, with their radio comms as cover

Reward -- 40 ATC -- Dr. Oggurobb finally retires... or so he thinks, thanks to Bowdaar.

Sacrifice -- 29 ATC (between patches 7.2 and 7.3) -- Theron sacrifices one of the few things to survive from his childhood. Eva is a pregnant person in this fic, so CW for that.

Dance - Eva dances with Jace Malcom. This is a continuation of an eventual post-Nathema fic about a party.

Apology -- 28 ATC (Between Elom and 7.3) -- Theron liberates Arcann from his job at a fast food join in Dromund Kaas by punching him in the face. No, I will not elaborate (I will totally elaborate).

Kiss -- 21 ATC -- Theron thinks about the his views on good morning kisses in the early days after Eva's return.

Rain -- 21 ATC -- Theron finds Eva out in the rain after Koth is worried about her. It's not as bad as it looks.

Protect -- 14 ATC -- Dr. Oggurobb meets the Voidhound on Makeb.

Shy -- 13 ATC -- Cole Cantarus becomes friends with benefits with Eva (she pays at the bar).

Fresh -- anytime after 23 ATC -- C2-N2 tries to start spring cleaning on Virtue's Thief. "Tries" is the operative word here.

Taglist

@fluffyfebruary, @ayresis, @starlightcleric, @ermingarden, @blueburds-but-swtor, @vihola, @commanderlurker, @sarpndo, @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond, @vexa-legacy, @grandninjamasterren

#fluffy february #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor #dr. oggurobb #arcann #koth vortena #lana beniko #risha drayen #bowdaar #akaavi spar #mako #akaavi spar/mako

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stylesispunk · 1 year ago

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THE GREAT WAR | LAST CHAPTER |

"I vowed I would always be yours, cause we survived the Great War

I would always be yours, cause we survived the Great War"

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 | masterlist

series summary: "After things fell apart it seemed that Joel and you were falling into pieces. Is it the end of all the endings? How long will it take to mend a broken heart"

word count: 4,2k>

warnings: angst, fluff too much fluff, established relationship, age gap (Reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), child loss, anger, some tension.

A/N: This is it. The last chapter is here, and I honestly didn't like how this chapter turned out, but I really wanted to give this ending. I really was so excited about writing this story and I had some kind of fun doing it. Thanks to all who read it and those who always commented, liked, etc. I hope you like it, and I see you soon (in a few days) with a different fic.

The days had settled into a comfortable rhythm, as if the cosmos had felt the need for some peace and quiet after the storm. Rhia's mornings began with the glorious light coming through the window casting an inviting glow across the room. As she stretched and prepared for the day ahead, her thoughts frequently went to the changes that had occurred in her life.

During this week, Joel's presence in her life had become more consistent. They weren't back together yet, but they were working on trust. The scars from earlier events in their lives remained, but they were gradually healing.

Later that morning, Rhia found herself in Jackson's bar, helping Maria and Tommy with party preparations for an upcoming celebration in Jackson. The community was getting together to celebrate a new year since it was founded, and the atmosphere was electric.

Rhia, Maria, and Tommy worked together to decorate the space and arrange food. The atmosphere was welcoming, their talk lightened the task, and Rhia found herself opening up about all kinds of things again.

“Joel said things are improving between you and him,” Tommy said as he winked one of his eyes.

That comment caught Rhia off guard. Her cheeks flushed as she chuckled. “He’s right, things are better” she admitted.

Tommy grinned mischievously, giving her a knowing look. " You know, I haven’t seen my brother this happy since…”

"Since before the world ended," Rhia finished for him, her smile both wistful and understanding.

Tommy nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, but the world began for him again the day he met you."

Rhia's cheeks turned even rosier at Tommy's words. His sincerity touched her soul, and she found herself at a loss of words.

He smiled warmly. “We’re all grateful to have you back in our lives.” She said “And our baby too.”

Maria nodded as she chuckled. A smile graced Rhia’s lips, and she found herself at a loss for a moment.

“I shouldn’t have said that, sorry”, Tommy apologized.

He was met with a gentle smile from Rhia. She appreciated his understanding. “It’s okay, Tommy. I’ve come to terms with it, it’s part of our story now.”

Maria chimed in; her voice filled with warmth. “And we’re here to support you both.”

As they went about their business, they felt a sense of camaraderie and purpose. The decorations were hung, the food was served, and the bar was converted into a lively and pleasant environment.

As the night enveloped Jackson, the party buzzed with energy. People were laughing, dancing, and sharing. Rhia found herself leaning against a wall, her eyes scanning the room. She felt a gentle tap on her and turned to find Joel beside her.

"Having a good time?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

Rhia nodded with a smile on her lips. "I am, indeed. Thank you so much, Joel."

Joel's smile widened, and his eyes were filled with love for Rhia. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Do you remember," Joel began contemplatively, "when we were at the QZ, in that filthy old apartment?”

Rhia smiled, “And you and Tess were smugglers?" Her eyes twinkled with delight at the memory.

Joel nodded, a wistful grin on his lips. "We had to survive somehow," he said after a brief glance at her. "I think I liked you back then," he blurted.

Rhia's heart skipped a beat as he admitted it, and the rest of the world appeared to melt away as her attention was drawn to Joel.

"I liked you, too, Joel," she said softly. "You and Tess, both"

He chuckled as their gazes locked. "I liked you in a different way."

"You had a crush on me?" she asked, laughing.

Joel's face relaxed. "I suppose I did."

Rhia's face softened, and her heart warmed as he confessed his past feelings.

As a slow song began to play, Joel extended his hand toward Rhia, his eyes holding a mix of vulnerability and hope. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, his voice soft.

Rhia's heart skipped a beat at his invitation. She looked up at him, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I'd love to," she replied. “But what about your leg? Is it better?

Joel’s smile was tender, his fingers tenderly fixing their hold on her hand. “My leg’s doing better, thanks to you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “And I wouldn’t miss a chance to dance with you”

Taking his hand, she allowed herself to be led by Joel to the dance floor. They moved together, their bodies swaying to the soft melody of the music playing. At that moment, everything around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own world.

Rhia's head rested against Joel's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear.

"The first time I kissed you, we were in that old rusty apartment", Joel mused, his voice a low murmur.

Rhia nodded; a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, you mean that time you stole a kiss and then acted like it was no big deal?"

A ghost of a smile curved Joel's lips. "Yeah. It was a big deal.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asked once he entered the room and saw Rhia sitting on the floor, lost in her thoughts.

“Why would you care, Joel?” She answered, her voice tinged with frustration.

Joel approached her slowly, his footsteps echoing in the small, dimly lit room. He knelt beside her.

“Rhia,” he said softly, “Come on, show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

Rhia chuckled at his request and looked up to face Joel, but the air felt different this time. When Rhia's eyes met Joel's, she felt her air stolen from her lungs. Their faces were so close, and the air between them was charged with unspoken words. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheeks as if she was the most delicate flower in the garden.

Rhia's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the warmth of Joel's breath against her lips. In that fragile moment, the cruel dark world outside ceased to exist, to become lighter, and Joel leaned in, capturing Rhia's lips in a soft, stolen kiss. It was a gentle, lingering connection, a moment of vulnerability for him and her.

When they pulled away, their breaths were caught in their throats, and their eyes widened at the realization they had crossed the line of friendship.

That kiss changed their relationship forever.

Back in the present, they continued dancing, their movements a silent conversation that spoke volumes. The memory of that stolen kiss seemed to bridge the gap between their past and their current life.

Joel's hold on her tightened ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Should I steal a kiss again?”

A playful glint danced in Rhia's eyes as she looked up at him without saying a word.

Joel's lips curved into a mischievous smile. Without another word, he leaned in, but before they could reach other lips, an angry scream broke their little bubble.

Ellie and Dinna were cornered and on display by one of the men at the party and everyone was watching.

Joel's grip on Rhia loosened as they both focused their attention on the commotion. Joel’s brow furrowed, evidently displeased with the interruption. Rhia's protective instincts flared as she locked her gaze on the man who cornered Ellie and Dinna, her voice firm when she addressed him.

"What's going on?" Rhia's tone was angry and authoritative. She gave Ellie and Dina a quick glance, her expression demanding an answer.

The man was surprised by Rhia's demeanor and cleared his throat, his demeanor turning to one of shame. "I… I saw these two young ladies kissing," he murmured, lowering his sight to the ground.

Rhia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the unexpected revelation. The anger that had initially fueled her reaction was now replaced by surprise. She exchanged a puzzled look with Joel before returning her gaze to Ellie and Dina. Their faces were flushed with humiliation, and Ellie's big eyes were closed as if closing them would spare her from this embarrassment.

"And you had to announce it to everyone like that?" Joel inquired, clearly enraged with the man.

Ellie was clearly embarrassed to be in the spotlight like this, so she fled from the bar before the heated discussion could continue.

Rhia and Joel exchanged a concerned look before silently agreeing to follow Ellie. They crept out of the pub, their steps soft as they pursued her. As they walked towards their house, the night air felt cool against their skin.

They found Ellie sitting on her bed, her back hunched and her head buried in her hands. Rhia's heart broke for her as she felt the tightness in her shoulders. Rhia and Joel approached gently, taking seats on each side of Ellie, giving her room while also letting her know they were there for her.

After a few moments of silence, Ellie's voice burst through, unsteady and frustrated. "I can't believe he just... made it sound like there was something to be ashamed of." She raised her head, her eyes red and wet as she met Rhia's and then Joel's gaze.

Joel put his hand on Ellie's back, his voice gentle but firm, and said, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Ellie." Rhia nodded. "Joel's right, Ellie," Rhia said. "There's nothing wrong about who you are and who you love. And you have both of us to back you up." She gave Ellie a tiny, genuine smile, and appreciated the trust they shared. "In this day and age," she said, glancing over Ellie's shoulder at Joel, "if you really care about someone, you don't want to miss a beat."

Ellie expressed her gratitude. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it." Then she turned to Joel with a smirk. "Now, old man, mind if I borrow Rhia for a bit?"

Joel chuckled warmly. "She's all yours. I'll give you some privacy."

With a reassuring pat on Ellie's shoulder, Joel left the room, allowing Ellie and Rhia to have their moment alone.

Once they were alone, Ellie let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping with relief. "Thanks for being here, Rhia. You and Joel are my family.”

With that, they sat together talking about feelings. They shared their fears, hopes, and dreams, forging a stronger bond of trust and understanding between them.

“Is she sleeping already”? Joel asked once Rhia entered the bedroom.

“Knocked out” she replied with a smile.

Joel's expression softened at her offer, gratitude and warmth were evident in his eyes. He took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “Good, so I think I should go now.”

"Joel, you don't have to go," Rhia said softly,

He sighed, his eyes searching hers for something she couldn't quite decipher. "Damn, I want to stay here, angel. But I also don't want to complicate-"

Before giving Joel a chance to finish his sentence, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. Her actions were a silent plea, a way of telling him that they could move forward.

Joel melted into the kiss, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

When they pulled back, Joel’s gaze held Rhia’s, he let out a small chuckle. “So, are you sure she is sleeping?

“Oh no, no with her in the house” Her voice held a hint of amusement, knowing Joel’s intentions.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers gently tracing along her cheek. "I want to love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers.

Rhia's heart fluttered at his words, and she found herself leaning into his touch. Her fingers lightly rested against his chest as she met his gaze. "Is that a yes?"

Joel pulled back and his expression softened and nodded.

Rhia’s eyes sparkled with humor and she leaned to press her lips on his again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and they slowly made their way to bed. Their kiss depended, carrying with it a thousand promises of love. Meanwhile, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only their shared warmth hanging in the air.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Rhia and Joel were finally back together. They were thick as thieves, and their trust blossomed again. It all started with small steps. Joel showered her with the love she deserved, words of comfort, a bouquet of flowers every day of the week when he returned from patrol and a thousand more small gestures that conveyed all the unspoken words he wanted to say.

Rhia gave him a new chance because she thought he deserved it.

"I got you a present," he announced as he entered the house.

"A present?" Rhia inquired.

"Turn around and close your eyes," he said quietly.

Rhia did as Joel instructed, and he went forward to place a small necklace around her neck. Rhia opened her eyes to see what it was.

It was a flower,

A daisy.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she saw the little flower hanging from her neck.

Rhia returned her gaze to Joel, her eyes glistening with emotion.

She touched the daisy pendant gently, a small, overwhelmed smile on her lips. "Joel, it's beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

Joel's smile widened, and he stepped closer to her, his hand caressing her cheek. "Our baby will be there with you," he said softly, as he touched her chest over the necklace.

She nodded, her heart swelling with love for this man and who he had proven himself to be worthy of a second chance. "I know," she replied, her voice quivering with emotion.

One morning, Rhia woke up with an uneasy feeling. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something felt different in her. Nevertheless, she went about her usual routine, trying to shake off the odd feeling, but it persisted throughout the morning.

Maria noticed something was bothering Rhia as she helped her in the bar. She was observant of her friend’s changes, the occasional dizziness, and the constant sigh that escaped Rhia’s lips.

Maria finally stopped doing her task and turned to Rhia with a concerned expression. "Rhia, is something bothering you?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Rhia looked up, a small smile attempting to mask her worries. "Nothing’s wrong.”

“Did Joel do something?” she asked again, but all she got was a low “no” from Rhia.

Maria raised an eyebrow, not convinced by Rhia’s response. “There must be something wrong because you’re acting all weird.”

Rhia hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering away from Maria’s.

“I’ve been feeling the same things I felt when…”

Maria's comforting hand was on Rhia's shoulder. "When…?”

Rhia took a deep breath, her eyes searching Maria’s face for some kind of desperate help. “When…- I think I’m pregnant.”

Maria's eyes widened in surprise, and then a warm smile spread across her face. "Oh, Rhia. That's wonderful news!"

“No, it’s not.” Rhia protested, her tone brittle, “No after what happened to my baby before. And in this world, it’s just stupid to even think about it” Tears welled up in Rhia's eyes, and she looked at Maria with sadness in her eyes. "I just... I don't want to go through that pain again," she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose myself or Joel all over again.”

Maria’s expression softened at her friend’s concern, "Look, we have to be sure first". Maria said softly. “Then, you can think about it or tell Joel.”

Rhia nodded and leaned on Maria's shoulder, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty this possible pregnancy meant for her and Joel, but with Maria’s support, the weight on Rhia’s shoulders felt lighter.

A few days later, after an old test confirmed the truth, Rhia found herself standing in front of her and Joel’s bedroom door. Her heart raced with fear. She took a deep breath and entered the room where Joel was already in bed.

The soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room created a sense of tranquility.

Joel's gaze snapped at Rhia and a soft expression took over his face. "Hey," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. "Where have you been?

Rhia smiled back, though her uneasiness was still visible in her eyes. She shut the door behind her and moved closer to the bed. "I wanted to talk to you about something," she continued, her voice filled with trepidation.

Rhia sat down, her fingers slightly fidgeting in her lap. She inhaled deeply, summoning her courage. "Joel, do you know how we've been working through everything that's happened between us and trying to move forward?"

He softened his expression as he reached out to hold her hand in his. "Yeah."

Her gaze was fixed on him. "Well, during this time, something... happened"

Joel's uneasiness grew as he retained her gaze. "Rhia, you're beginning to concern me-

"I'm pregnant." She confessed, letting out a long sigh.

"Angel, are you sure?" he asked, his voice a little softer this time.

Rhia nodded; her gaze fixed on his. Joel's forehead wrinkled as he attempted to assimilate the news.

"An old test and the same symptoms I had before." His grip on her hand tightened a little more, his gaze falling to their linked fingers. "Rhia," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I... I'm going to need a moment to process this."

Rhia's heart sank at his response, a knot of worry forming in her stomach. That’s it, she thought, all the progress we have made thrown away.

Her thoughts were racing, but she merely nodded at him. "Of course, Joel. Take your time”

Joel eventually turned to her after what it felt like an eternity, his expression a mix of all the emotions. "Rhia, you know... what happened before, with our baby..." His voice was heavy with concern.

Rhia's heart ached as she noticed the anguish in his eyes. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I understand, Joel. And I understand if this news brings back painful emotions."

Joel pondered his thoughts. He didn't feel the need to be angry with Rhia like he had in the prior time. When he warned her, she was irresponsible to even consider having a kid while they were trying to take Ellie to the fireflies.

"It's not that I'm not happy," he said softly, looking at their intertwined hands, "but it's just... it's complicated."

The answer broke Rhia's heart. She carefully got out of bed, intending to go downstairs and ponder about what to do, when Joel reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.

Joel leaned up and carefully brushed a piece of hair behind her ear before cupping her checks. He gazed at her; his gaze drawn to hers. "I will never leave you alone."

A soft smile graced Rhia’s lips, and Joel leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a soft and lingering kiss. It was a promise for her, a reassurance that he was there for her.

When their lips finally parted, he held her face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek, whispering sweet things to her.

Joel lay back down, pulling her into his arms. As he spooned her close, he caressed her belly carefully, he wanted to protect her and the baby from the world outside.

“We should tell Ellie tomorrow”, she whispered, feeling safe in his arms.

“She will be over the moon” he answered, softly.

hand rested on top of Joel's, their fingers entwining over her slightly growing belly.

A few days had passed since Rhia delivered the news to Joel and Ellie, and the last was effectively over the moon. Ellie's excitement was contagious, and she couldn't help but gush about becoming a big sister.

and Joel hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. There was a difference this time. They weren’t running, they weren’t in the unknown and worried about surviving another day in the dark solitude of the world outside the walls of Jackson. This time, Rhia could be safe and sound and he could shower her with love and protection. This time, building a family didn’t sound like a crazy idea.

When night enveloped the community and the warmth of midsummer days lingered in the air. The moon hung high in the clear sky, casting a gentle glow over the houses of Jackson.

Rhia and Joel sat together on the porch of their house; their hands entwined as they looked out into the quiet night. The distant sounds of laughter from the people walking by provided a comforting atmosphere.

Rhia and Joel allowed a peaceful silence to settle between them. Rhia leaned her head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was moments like these that allowed them to simply be a couple. Even when the news of the baby was still causing a certain uneasiness in the air.

Joel realized he had to prove himself. He had to prove to his partner that he would be there for her.

“Rhia” Joel began, breaking the silence.

Rhia looked her eyes at his “Yes?”

He took a deep breath “I know in this world, this thing I’m about to do doesn't hold the same weight as it used to. But you mean everything to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, protecting you, loving you, and being there for you and for our child.”

Joel dug into his pocket and pulled out a little, improvised ring he'd fashioned from a scrap of wire he'd acquired while being on patrol. It was rough and out of the ordinary, yet it had its own beauty.

Rhia's eyes widened in surprise and a hint of disbelief, but a warm smile tugged at her lips.

"Angel," he said again, his voice steady and soft, "will you marry me?"

Rhia's eyes welled up with tears. "Yes," she muttered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes."

Joel's face lit up with a smile as he put the improvised ring onto Rhia's finger. It wasn’t a fancy proposal like in the old days, but it was ideal for them, a final testament to their love.

Rhia smiled as she met his gaze and leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss held their compromise in a soft and warm feeling.

As they pulled away, Joel's eyes sparkled with happiness, and he whispered against her lips “I love you, angel. You’re the best thing this world gave to me”

Rhia's heart swelled with love. "I love you too, Joel.”

Several months had passed since the night on the porch when Joel proposed to Rhia. During that time, their story continued to be written, their trust was rebuilt from the pieces and their love blossomed.

And the day had come. Rhia gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Ambar, a name that meant “The sky” was a tribute to the loved ones they had lost, the people both of them loved that were watching from above. Sarah, Tess, and Daisy.

Joel couldn’t believe he was a father again, that he was taking care of a precious little baby all over again. A contrast to the life he had known before, a life that was him and Sarah against the world. But this time, he wasn’t alone anymore. No longer were he and his daughter by themselves. This time, it was him, their little baby, Ellie, and the woman he loved together as a family.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over their little corner of the world, Rhia and Joel found themselves sitting on their porch once like they always do during the evening. The stars began to twinkle in the sky, and Ambar slept in her crib inside.

In the silence of that tender moment, with the soft breeze caressing their faces, they knew that their story was far from over. There were pages to be written yet, but they also knew that danger was far from being over.

As they looked out at the night sky, Joel’s chuckle broke the silence.

Rhia looked down at him. “What?”

“I was thinking about us” he simply said, yet his voice was soft.

“What about us?” Rhia’s curiosity creeped out; her eyes fixed on his gorgeous profile in the dim evening light.

Joel turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a tender gaze. "From a world where it was just me and Sarah, to now, a family of our own." He said, “Thank you for loving me, Angel.”

Rhia's heart exploded with love as she leaned in to kiss him, their lips met in a lingering and sweet kiss, holding all the promises they had made each other since the day they met. From the day they met, when they were younger, to the day their scars still hurt from when they pushed each other apart and finally found their way to each other again.

So, in that sweet moment beneath the starry sky, they found solace in their shared love and the family they had formed. Their story was still being written, but they were ready to tackle any challenge that came their way; They had each other's backs, after all. They were going to survive any war.

a/n: The last paragraph is cheesy af. Reblogs and comments are appreciated 💌 if you have any question, asks are always open

tag: @joeldjarin

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dystopicjumpsuit · 11 months ago

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 21

The Emotion and the Response

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings and tags: language; blood and injury; a panic attack; sensuality.

Suggested Listening:

Summary: A reunion.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings, "Double, Double Boil and Trouble" (part 2 here) and "Do It Again," but all the fics can be read as stand-alones.

Between the emotion and the response falls the Shadow

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The coordinates Gregor sent dropped Cerra quite literally in the middle of nowhere, parsecs away from the nearest star system, inhabited or otherwise. As the shuttle shifted into realspace, she saw the reason he’d chosen this place. Instead of the black emptiness of space she expected, the Archeon Nebula stretched out before her: a luminous, golden cloud of gas and cosmic dust. It was an incredible view, but that wasn’t why the commando had sent her there.

The electromagnetic radiation of the nebula interfered with long-range communications, including any signals from tracking beacons that she might have missed on the shuttle. Short-range comms would still work if she boosted the signal as high as it would go, but she was invisible to the Empire and everyone else in the galaxy so long as she stayed put.

She navigated away from the hyperspace lane and powered down all systems except life support and comms to avoid detection by passing vessels, then she increased the range and sensitivity of the shuttle’s proximity sensor to maximum. With the tiniest shred of luck, the next ship that arrived would be Gregor, not smugglers, pirates, or worse. Of course, her luck hadn’t been particularly stellar lately.

While she waited, she raided the shuttle’s supply cabinet and was disgusted to find that it didn’t even have a basic medkit. Supply officer on that Venator ought to be busted down to private, she fumed with a disgruntled, unintelligible mutter.

On the plus side, there were a few expired ration bars, which she ate, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal, and a few bottles of water, which she drank, because she had no idea how long she’d be waiting for Gregor. That karking mudscuffer Yularen had split her lip badly when he hit her, and she winced as she chewed the desiccated rations, hoping that she wouldn’t reopen the wound.

She stripped off the plastoid TK armor and the compression bodysuit and headed to the refresher. The shuttle didn’t have a shower—not even a sonic—but she scrubbed off as much of Daivik’s dried blood as she could in the tiny sink, washing until the red swirls that circled the drain disappeared and the water ran clear.

The familiar harsh, medicinal scent of the soap stung her nose and transported her instantly to her time in the GAR, filling her with an odd sense of nostalgia. She examined the swelling bruise on her shoulder where Daivik had struck her. It hurt like a sonofabitch. She rolled her shoulder gingerly, testing her range of motion. It wasn’t terrible, but she wouldn’t exactly call it great, either. She’d had worse injuries, but that didn’t make her current ones any more fun.

Should’ve killed that scughole before he beat the shit out of me, she mused. I’ll have to remember that next time I get my ass captured.

She sighed and stepped back into the compression suit, and then headed to the cockpit, where she curled up in the pilot’s seat to wait, stretching and shifting in the cramped seat to try to get more comfortable. Her eyes felt gritty and dry. Her body ached. Without the sublight engine running, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the life support system and the faint clangs of the ship itself as it drifted in the emptiness. The displays and buttons of the ship’s navigation panel were barely bright enough to see anything, but nebula cast a faint glow through the viewport, subtly illuminating the cockpit in soft, golden light.

She gazed out the viewport as her eyes grew heavy. There was something strangely comforting about the nebula—knowing that it continued to create new stars even as others flickered and died throughout the galaxy. The darkness hadn’t won. Not yet. There was still light. There was still hope. And even the stars that died continued to shine long after they’d burnt out.

Her head throbbed, and her lids drifted closed, only for a moment. Just a few seconds, really. No more than that. She needed to stay awake while she waited for Gregor. She… She needed…

She slept.

She had no idea how long she’d been out when she jerked awake, startled into consciousness by the blaring proximity alert. She cursed silently as she lunged forward and toggled the switch so the alarm would stop screeching. The comms crackled to life.

“Code tango-two-one-eight. Watchman to Scrapper, I’ve reached the rendezvous coordinates. What’s your status?”

Cerra’s heart lurched at the sound of Gregor’s voice.

“All good here, Watchman,” she replied. “Send me a ping, and I’ll dock with your ship.”

“Copy that. See you soon.”

Within minutes, she docked with the freighter, and before she boarded, she programmed the shuttle’s hyperdrive to overload. She hurried across to the freighter and sealed the hatch, signaling Gregor to release the docking clamps. By the time she made it to the cockpit, they were already at a safe distance from the shuttle, and within seconds, a blinding flash confirmed the shuttle was destroyed.

Gregor sprang out of his seat and rushed toward Cerra. His eyes widened when he saw her bruised, bloodied face, and he pulled her into a crushing embrace. Cerra let out a tiny whimper of pain, and he loosened his grip immediately.

“Are you all right?” he asked, checking her frantically for injuries.

“I’m all right, Gregor,” she said as relief flooded her. She was safe. She was home. “There was no medkit on the shuttle, otherwise I would have taken care of it already.”

He pushed her gently into the copilot’s chair and reached across her to grab the small emergency medkit they kept in the cockpit. He knelt between her knees as he pulled out a tube of bacta, biting down on the finger of his glove and yanking it off with his teeth. As he leaned close to dab the gel on the bruises and lacerations that marred her face, his dark eyes filled with such distress that her heart twisted inside her to see it. His touch was incredibly gentle, and Cerra took a moment to simply enjoy the way his skin felt against her, his fingers were warm and comforting in contrast to the cold bacta.

“Is there more under the suit?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for the autofastener, but Gregor found it first and tugged it down, careful not to pinch her skin as he unzipped the tight-fitting garment. As he slid the pressure suit cautiously down over her shoulders to puddle around her waist, his breath caught when he saw the extent of the bruises that mottled her skin.

“Those fucking bastards,” he growled. “I’ll kill them.”

“Sorry, buddy, I beat you to it,” she said with a pained smile.

He grunted. “As long as they’re dead.”

He smoothed the bacta onto her shoulder with the lightest touches, easing her bra strap out of the way as he worked. The soft, warm glow of the nebula caught on the planes of his face, throwing the angles and lines into stark relief. He knelt so close to her that she could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the subtle pulse in his neck with each heartbeat. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, at once so familiar and so unique, and a memory flashed in her mind: strong arms wrapped securely around her; a thick, solid thigh slotted between her legs; the firm press of a body against her hip as she drifted on the edge of consciousness.

“Gregor?” she whispered, then swallowed thickly.

“Hm?” He raised his eyes to hers inquisitively, and he was so close that she could see the golden flecks in his irises.

“I don’t want to fight any more,” she said. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

His eyes softened. “I know you didn’t.”

He was so, so close. Her gaze drifted down to his mouth, and when she looked back up, he was staring at hers, too. His hand stilled and rested against her shoulder, and she knew he could feel the way her breathing became rapid and shallow. Almost without realizing she was moving, she raised her hand to his face and traced her thumb across the chiseled line of his cheekbone. How had she never noticed how sharp it was? Maker, he was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him, like staring directly into a star. No wonder she’d spent the last several months avoiding looking too closely. She trailed her fingertips along his jawline, feeling the scratch of his stubble, and he leaned imperceptibly closer.

He looked so much like Fives, and yet so different at the same time. When did his face become so incredibly important to her? When had his voice become as vital as the air that she breathed? When had he gone from being her dearest friend to being the one person in the galaxy that she could not imagine living without?

She brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Cerra,” he whispered, and his warm breath washed across her skin, sending prickles of awareness through her body. “Don’t do this.”

She froze, and hurt flashed through her, worse than anything Yularen and his thugs could ever inflict. She withdrew her hand immediately and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She was such a fool.

“S—sorry,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

Gregor pulled his hand away from her shoulder, and she steeled herself for his rejection, swallowing down the tightness in her throat. But instead of moving away, he cupped her chin softly and turned her head to face him.

“Don’t do it unless you mean it,” he said.

Her eyes darted to his, and she saw the truth there, written plainly as it always had been, if only she hadn’t been too stubborn to read it. Something deep inside her chest snapped, and she pitched forward, closing the short distance between them as their lips collided. Pain lanced through her bruised mouth, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she couldn’t exist for another second without kissing Gregor. She needed him more than her next breath, more than the blood coursing through her veins, more than life itself.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, sliding her whole body forward in the seat. Her thighs pressed open to accommodate him, and it seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to wrap her legs around his body. She flattened her hands against his back, then dragged them up his shoulders, up his neck, to caress the velvety shorn hair at the base of his skull, and then further, to tangle her fingers in the longer curls at the crown of his head.

His tongue slid against hers, and he let out a short, urgent sound and clutched her body tightly against himself. He tasted like everything she had ever wanted. His hands roamed across the bare skin of her back, one of them settling low to press her hips closer, and the other gliding up to clasp the back of her neck. He pinned her against his body as his lips moved away from hers and he began to work his way down her jaw and neck.

She dropped her head back, her body lighting with arousal beneath his lovely, talented mouth. The light abrasion of his stubble made a delicious contrast with the soft, gentle warmth of his lips and tongue. He reached a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat, and she gasped, unconsciously grinding her hips against him. He rewarded her by sinking his teeth lightly into her skin, raking them across her until she writhed and moaned, clutching his head closely to herself.

The moment felt surreal, as though her brain couldn’t quite process what was happening. She’d spent so long denying the truth that it felt as though her entire universe had been inverted—and yet at the same time, the touch of his lips, the grip of his hands, the press of his body against hers seemed so incredibly right that she could no longer imagine going without them.

“Shit,” he said suddenly, breaking away from her.

“What?” she asked, dazed.

“You’re bleeding.”

Startled, she raised a hand to her chin and was horrified to feel a slick of blood on her skin. “Kriff!”

Gregor extracted a square of gauze from the medkit and pressed it against her lip, holding it gently but firmly in place until the bleeding stopped. While he waited, he dropped tiny, feather-light kisses across her face, over and over, until she began to giggle.

“Stop smiling,” he said sternly, kissing the tip of her nose. “You’re going to make your lip start bleeding again.”

“Then stop being so perfect,” she retorted.

He paused to consider. “Best I can offer is ten percent off.”

“Well, that hardly seems like a bargain at all,” she said.

“Take it or leave it.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, and she caught her breath.

“I love you,” she blurted.

His eyes widened with shock.

“I mean—” she stammered, panic threading in her voice. “I—I mean—”

She laughed nervously, and then the laughter turned to shallow, gasping breaths as the edges of her vision began to darken and black spots swam before her eyes. Her lungs heaved, but there seemed to be no oxygen in the cockpit. She scrambled backward in her chair, trying to put some distance between herself and Gregor.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Gregor said. “All the way out, come on, Cerra. You know what to do. Breathe all the way out. One, two, three, four, five. Now breathe in through your nose, sweetheart. One, two, three, four, five.”

He held her hands in his warm, reassuring grasp, and as she brought her breathing back under control, she suddenly remembered what he’d told her that awful night at 79’s.

“Easy, love. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

---

A/N: I know nebulae don't cast light like that IRL, but this is Star Wars, where they totally do! If you want to see the nebula in question, check out Rebels Season 3 Episode 18, "Secret Cargo."

---

Next chapter

#echo tbb #captain gregor #captain rex #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #star wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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grapenehifics · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday (2/3)

This WIP Wednesday is a continuation of the excerpt I shared last week (after a bunch of text about the next fic I'm posting, a GFFA canon-divergent disaster trio story called Pick Up the Pieces).

Last week, we found seventeen-year-old Anakin on a mission to Takodana going undercover as a (not very talented) gambler and card-player. Read more after the cut:

“Hey, boy!” someone called, and it took Anakin a second to realize it was the Ugnaught he’d been playing cards with, and that they were calling to him. (Anakin had chosen not to give his name, real or otherwise, on this little excursion, and no one he was playing with had turned out to be the type to care. They hadn’t given their names, either.) “Next round’s starting. We dealing you in or out?”

Anakin did some quick math in his head. “Yeah, all right,” he decided, and took his seat again. He wasn’t surprised they wanted to play with him, what with the way he’d been losing. He was an easy mark, and he knew it.

His reputation held all through the first hand, in which he was, yet again, the first to bow out. Pazaak was a game that required winning three hands to take the match, however, so the Besalisk dealt him back in for the second.

Only, his four hands were sweaty (Obi-Wan said this happened to Besalisk a lot, especially on warm planets, because their ancestral world of Ojom was an ice planet, and their species had started migrating throughout the galaxy relatively recently and hadn’t developed biological adaptations for warmer weather yet) and the cards slipped and about half the deck fell to the floor.

“Whoops,” Anakin said, and he and the Besalisk both bent down to collect them. “Let me help you, there, buddy.”

“I got it,” the Besalisk growled, and Anakin sat up, hands raised in surrender.

“Hey, all right, no harm intended,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready. I just feel a hot streak coming on, is all.”

The Ugnaught and the Trandoshan across from him at the table both laughed (well, the Trandoshan made a sound like air escaping from a punctured balloon, anyway). Anakin just smiled back placidly.

“No, really,” he continued, as the Besalisk re-shuffled the cards and started to deal. “I’ve got a really good feeling about this one.”

“Sure,” the Trandoshan lisped. She wore a badge pinned to her bandoleer that identified her as part of the Bounty Hunters Guild.

Anakin did, in fact, win that hand, the first he’d won in almost an hour. Then he immediately lost the next one, thereby erasing his lead, because now all but the Ugnaught had won a hand apiece. They played again, and Anakin got twenty exactly on his first hand.

“Read ‘em and weep!” he gloated, spreading his cards out in front of him. The Trandoshan hissed at him. The Ugnaught swore in Ugnese. The Besalisk tried to look at Anakin’s cards again, but Anakin quickly put his hand over his side deck. “Uh-uh,” he taunted. “No cheating!”

“I’m going to go get a drink,” the Trandoshan growled, and pushed her chair back from the table.

“Get me one too,” the Besalisk said, and tossed the Trandoshan a credit chip, which she caught as she stalked off toward the bar.

“This is fun!” Anakin said, crossing his arms behind his head and tipping his chair back onto just the back two legs. He ruffled his ponytail with his hand. There wasn’t a lot he could do to hide his Padawan haircut, but he’d wrapped his braid around the band that held his hair back and tucked the end underneath, so at least that was off his neck and a little less conspicuous. Plus he’d traded his usual Jedi robes for a dark pants-and-vest combo that looked a little more smuggler-y (or at least he hoped it did). He carried a blaster without any ammo in it, and before choosing a card table he’d purposefully spilled some ale on himself, both to make his clothes look a little more lived in and so that he’d smell like he’d been drinking alcohol without having to actually have any. “I think I get why you fellows like this game so much,” he continued, because his companions very much looked like they wanted him to stop talking. “I’m really glad you all taught it to me. Hey, how about this. Now that we’re friends and all. If I win this match, next round is on me, all right? Just, uh, don’t go too overboard,” he chuckled. “I am still down quite a bit to all three of you…”

He cut himself off when the Trandoshan sat down heavily, ale slopping over the rim of the glasses she’d carried over from the bar.

“…but I think my luck might be about to change,” Anakin finished.

The next game, unlike previous one, was a real nail-biter. Anakin got to start, because he’d won the last hand, but they had to go twice around the table, and the tension ratcheted with each card-flip. By the third time the draw came around to Anakin, he was ready to make his move. “Plus one,” he said, taking the top card off his side deck and ignoring the communal deck in the middle of the table.

“You cheated,” said the Besalisk.

“No I didn’t,” Anakin said. “It was right there the whole time. I was saving it for when I really needed it. And right now, I need it.”

“It wasn’t there earlier.”

“He’s hustling,” accused the Ugnaught. “I think you do know how to play this game!”

“And how would you know that,” Anakin shouted, suddenly exploding both in anger and out of his seat. He stood on his chair and whirled to face the Besalisk. “Unless you’ve been cheating, and looking at my cards!”

#obikin #wip wednesday #pick up the pieces #an uncivil war

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auroradragon · 2 years ago

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Border Chase {Frontier Part 1} Alejandro x F!Reader

Summary: You're an American who's in the special forces. (c/n) in the fic is short for Code name. You were commanded to join colonel Vargas and his second in command Rodolfo Parra who are part of Los Vaqueros, along the border to capture Hassan Zyani.

Warnings: Violence, gun violence, near-death experience, death, cussing, etc.

Also... I've never learned Spanish, I really apologize for this especially if I were to get anything wrong grammar-wise, so for all my Spanish-speaking girlies, please ignore anything that may say or imply the reader doesn't know Spanish :)

Gif by icaxrus on Tumblr

You heard the yelps of coyotes as you walked along the border U.S. and Mexico wall looking at the dirt, dried brush, and cacti beyond the tall rusted fence. You were unsure of the area around you don't know much about the territory surrounding the border of Mexico. Although ever since you’ve been put on missions all over the country and out, you’ve learned to gain familiarity and adaptation to new and foreign places.

Laswell called you late that night since knowing you were down south of Texas lately at an army base. You were a highly trained and skilled soldier, you had earned your ranks because of your intelligence and combat skills, so when Laswell called you that night, she knew it wasn’t making a mistake. The two of you had met each other in person a few times and gained her friendship fairly quick. The feelings you had towards her when it came to trust was mutual.

You were provided with information about two men you’d be meeting up with. Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra. Why you were being put with two of the best soldiers in the Mexican Special Forces? You had no idea. But you didn’t push the question onto Laswell as you truly believed she knew what was best for you and everyone else involved in the situation.

You wore your American flag on your thick black bullet-proof vest. You had hooked your gun holders to your hip and loaded up on ammo. You were in El Paso Texas, a place you were barely familiar with, and on the search for a terrorist named Hassan Zyani, who was trying to illegally cross the U.S.-Mexican border. You knew nothing about him so far, the only thing you did know is that he’s a threat to this country, and is believed to be targeting major cities in the U.S., you weren’t told how, but you found it better not to pry.

You trail along the border listening and watching closely for any sign of smugglers. You stop in your tracks beyond a tinted light for cover before reaching for your mic that was strapped to your chest.

“This is (CN), where are these boys I’m supposed to meet?” You ask Laswell on the other line.

You wait a moment before she responds over the intercom.

“You can’t miss them if they cross over, I’ll put you on with them,” And then there was radio silence.

You heard a thump behind you from a distance. You quickly turn your whole body with your gun out. You face it toward the noise, the area was pitch black, and you didn’t see a single source of light. You started moving your feet towards the noise, still hiding from the yellow lights than hung along the wall to keep yourself invisible. Your steps were light and quiet as you made your way toward the caliginous terrain. You heard another loud pound against the solid dirt as though someone had just jumped.

“Stop right the-” You were about to flick on the light on your gun before you were cut off by the sound of intimidatingly close gunfire. The smell of gunpowder filled your nose. You dove behind a large rock as a shield unsure of where the fire was coming from,. The rust bars made the sound of bullets echo, making it impossible to tell where the source was coming from. You never heard a single bullet flick against the rock cover, so you weren't sure what the hell they were shooting at.

Then the fire ended almost as soon as it started. You heard static across your headset. While a few voices broke in.

“Despejado” You heard along with a few other lines you couldn’t translate since your Spanish sucked ass. You got up from where you sat, choosing to keep your light off to prevent jump scaring the two, you knew the men were Laswell's. You heard the sounds of hallow rusty iron as you see two men with their lights making their way down, as they haven’t yet seen you as you made your way towards them

“This is a friendly, please do not shoot me when you get down here,” you said over the intercom. You heard the thump of their boots hitting the floor. You walked up to them with your hands up so they wouldn’t shoot you, your gun wrapped with a strap around your shoulder.

“You let him get away?” The first man stomped towards you with anger expressed on his face. He wore tactical gear in army colors. Classic beige and army green. His brows were furrowed, had black hair, a thin beard, and intense dark eyes seething with anger and frustration. Your brows mirrored his, except with utter confusion. You didn’t see anyone pass through after the gunfire, hell you knew nothing about the area you were in.

“What- I didn’t see-” You started but the other man finished before you could

“Alejandro, we have to go” The other was getting irritated, but nowhere near as Alejandro

“Maldito gringas” He muttered before turning his back to you.

You rolled your eyes understanding what he just said.

The whole group of now three had turned in the direction where an intense crash was heard. You lifted your AR to your chest, both hands grasping it as you made your way with the boys who had already left before you to a citizen’s gate. They continued talking to each other in Spanish, probably expecting you to understand (you in fact did not)

“I’m sorry I don’t know very much Spanish, is there something you wanted me to do?” You genuinely asked.

“Why were you sent here if you can’t even understand what the hell we are talking about?” Alejandro asked in his deeper voice and thick accent.

“Like I said, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to get anything done if Ya'll won’t help me understand” You huffed in more of a mumble to keep your voice quiet. You felt awkward in this position, your first impression with them was awful and now you felt like you were making demands from someone you just met.

“We are moving into town, we have to be careful about the Cartel, there will be more of them than us… That’s what he said'' The man translates with a much softer tone than Alejandro's

“Thank you…” You smiled through your words, hoping he’d get the idea that you never intended the venom in your previous words

“Rodolfo” He states his name

“(c/n)” You chose to say your code name, a habit that came out of preserving your identity.

You waved your lights around the ground listening to the boys’ footsteps and the sound of a dog barking in the neighborhood you were approaching.

“HEY! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD” You heard a man call from his home.

“Won’t you guys get in trouble for this?” You ask as Alejandro, who’s crossed into the U.S., unsure if police around the area know what’s going on, and that it's a bigger deal than what they usually see.

You are well aware of how hateful some people in the state of Texas are, and if they had any reason to shoot a motherfucker, they would.

“Yes” Rodolfo answers, with 0 hesitation

"Lovely" You sarcastically muttered followed by a sigh

Your group gets through the gate into the backyard of someone’s trailer home.

“Someone’s out there” You heard a woman state from her home as you flickered your light towards her as she stood in front of the window

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” The man storms out of his home, his door slammed against the side of his trailer.

“We are special forces. Stay inside” They quickly stumble back into their home with their hands up as Rodolfo points his gun toward them.

You ran across the street and made your way inside someone’s home through the garage, you couldn’t help but know you were completely violating someone and their property, but you still continued compelling to orders that Alejandro gave. You kept silent until you made your way through the home where the Terrorist, Hassan, had already flown through. The couple living there were scared shitless but again, you didn’t stop and continued through their gate and down an alleyway behind Alejandro and in front of Rodolfo.

The roar of an engine echoed through the alleyway. And like deer in headlights, you stood finding your nearest place to hide before Alejandro gripped your layered forearm and pulled you down next to him. You crouched behind a white vehicle clinging close to the man to prevent yourself from getting shot. You glanced up at him to see he was looking at you through the corner of his eye. You shuffled closer to his side to be able to peek out of the corner of the vehicle letting your gun go ablaze with Rodolfo following right after. It was hard to see. Dust flew into your vision, stinging your eyes, and the truck's headlights didn't help. When you heard no more gunfire, you knew it was safe to move.

With sirens blasting around the community, you made your way into another home and were told where Hassan was located. When the three of you ran into the street you were stopped by a roadblock of red and blue lights. They demanded you put you conceal your weapons as you walked forward with the boys. You place your gun on the street as you make your way to the police with your hands up in surrender.

“I'm Colonel Alejandro Vargas, special forces! We’re after a known terrorist!” He defends himself. Yet a cop had wrapped his arms behind his back ready to handcuff him.

A cop with a cowboy hat stops one of the cops from cuffing him, saying we were called by Laswell

“Heh, hard to tell you boys apart from the Cartel,” He says leaving you and Rodolfo stealing a ‘what the fuck’ glance from each other. As the cop begins to let go of Alejandro and asks where the suspect is then you see it. A pin of a military weapon races towards you from the second floor of the house behind the cop cars. By the time you had reacted, it was too late.

Everything around you is on fire, the bodies of cops lying motionless and bloody. Your whole body ached on the ground. Your back felt like it was banging against your body. You knocked your head down against the concrete too. Everything around you trembled and moved 100 miles an hour. The muffled noises slowly become audible. You roll on your side, breathing heavily after getting the wind knocked out of you. You press your weight on your aching arms and stumble up while grabbing your gun off the road. You pressed your back against the now-destroyed police vehicle. Your heart pounded against your chest, and at the same rate as your back and head pounded.

“Rodolfo! Alejandro! Are you okay?” You yell needing the sound of their voices to reassure you. The flames were blinding you from any view of the guys. The Cartel’s guns shot through the police car you tucked behind. You groaned in pain before getting up to face your weapon towards the enemy and let out a few rounds.

You walk low around the flames in search of your group members. You stand tall as you get past the blistering heat to find an enemy above Alejandro. You kick the butt of your gun against the man before he slumped against the pavement. When Alejandro looked up at you to see your bleeding forehead and loss of breath. You offered a hand. He looked at your hand then back up at you. He grips his hand in yours and stands up a little slumped, possibly in the same amount of pain as you. He mumbles a thank you. Rodolfo ran to the building while you and Alejandro keep the firefight outside to cover him.

Over a matter of minutes of a gunfight, you smelled a strong stench of smoke, nothing like the gunfire smoke from the bullets, no, it was different. Flares started emerging from the side windows of the house. Your eyes bolted open in fear for Rodolfo. Alejandro picked up on it mere milliseconds after you. You both looked at each other and knew what was flying through both of your minds. “Stay” He commands you. You stand up, watching Alejandro run inside the building. You heard the two continuously talk over the com in Spanish, again didn’t understand what they were saying but you at least knew they were still alive. You never took your eyes off the house waiting for them to emerge from the flames. After a while, they stopped talking over the coms and your body tensed in panic.

“Rodolfo, do you copy?” Your finger is still on the button of your mic, too scared to move it

“Alejandro?” Your voice cracks

You stood in front of the home to see Alejandro carrying a weak Rodolfo out of the front door. You immediately run to Rodolfo and help Alejandro pick up his other side to move him away from the house. An ambulance and more cop cars pulled up near the burnt cars. You carried Rodolfo toward the ambulance, they busted the door open and brought him inside. He forced himself to sit on the ground of the ambulance so they wouldn't place him any further.

“I’m fine-I’m fine” He coughed. His face was covered in smudges of smoke, and so was Alejandro's

You ran to a medic and got some water for him, you quickly gave him a bottle and watched as he chugged it down.

“... Are you sure you're alright?” You ask. He looks from his water up to you. He simply nods with a smile that only lasted a second.

“Still alive, aren’t I?” He asks. You give a bit of a skeptical glance before a medic came up to you.

You waved them off saying you were fine, but you were then given another water bottle to give to Alejandro. You look behind you to see him take a step back into an area that wasn’t being overrun by medics and cops. You were about to turn and walk to him before Rodolfo called for you.

"(c/n)" You look back at Rodolfo

"Don't take any... Rude things Alejandro says to heart" He looked up at you from where he still sat in the ambulance.

"It's nothing against you... He's just a complicated person" Rodolfo lets out a smile. You stick a hand out in front of him to shake.

"Thanks, Rodolfo" You smile as he shakes your hand as a farewell.

You turn around again and start to jog over to Alejandro but keep your distance as soon as you saw how strained his shoulders were. You slowly walk over closer to him and call out for him. He turns around aggressively before getting close to your face.

“If you captured Hassan as soon as he crossed the border, this never would have happened.” He spits, with an intense stare that is intense and menacing. You could feel your eyebrows dropping into a frown just for a second, but caught yourself looking at him with a glare, trying to give a confident lie, but really you already blamed yourself. You hadn’t given yourself time to think about the cops that were killed, who probably had families they expected to go home to that night, all because you weren’t quick enough to catch Hassan before he booked it to civilians. All because you didn't make a move as soon as you heard the first thump.

“I’m sorry” You squeak at this point. Every bit of assertiveness you had in yourself was now gone.

“'I’m sorry' isn’t going to fix what just happened” He glared and burnt his disappointment into your soul. Your fraud façade was over, and your face finally fell with shame.

You shoved the plastic bottle into his hand before looking back up at him. You turned away from him and walked back talking into your mic, calling for Laswell confirming your mission was unsuccessful and that Hassan got away.

(Word Count: 2740)

A.N I'm literally going to apologize for every story I make since I'm fairly new to posting fanfics. So if it's bad I'm really sorry :,) But if you made it this far, thank you so much for bearing with it, and Ily sm.