#i miss him all the time.. hes gettin his gear on

[matoitech]

gayboy advance

[ghostssweetgirl]

Reader x Ghost + König - Using them as weighted blankets

Put me in a cold room, lay them on top of me and watch me sleep fuckin' HARD bc this genuinely seems so comforting

alternate version here

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Thought you were crazy at first for asking him to do such a thing, he knew he was big and didn't want to crush you, but he eventually caved in to your pleas.

It was so cute watching his huge frame crawl on top of you nervously, ready to set down all of his weight on you.

He was quite surprised to see how much faster you fell asleep when he lay atop of you, and used the time to caress your delicate cheeks, watching your chest rise and fall in a peaceful slumber.

He spoiled you with it, resulting in you not being able to sleep worth a crap without his body weight. Weighted blankets had to do when he was deployed, but it didn't compare to the safety of his blanket over you.

Even then, it was the hardest time falling asleep without him. You stayed up too late almost every night, resorting to nighttime medications to try to make yourself sleepy.

The first thing Simon did when he arrived home in the middle of the night, was walk into your shared room, spotting you asleep, sat up against the headboard as you were waiting on him, hugging your bunched up weighted blanket. He sighed a chuckle as he took his gear off and kicked off his boots. He lay his mask on the table and slowly replaced the blanket you were snuggling with himself.

You hummed awake at the newly added weight on top of you. Your hands hug him tight as you sleepily greet him. "Baby... I missed you."

"I missed ya too, luv," your lips finally met, and just like that, the kiss deepened naturally before he pulled back. You cup his jaw, and smile at him. "I think you're rubbin' off on me, babe."

You tilted your head. "How so?"

"I'm findin' it hard to sleep if 'm not laying on you." Dammit, you were his addiction. "'M gettin' tired a'ready."

You smirked as you scooted down pulling more of his body weight on you, resting your head on an actual pillow while you stroked Simon's messy hair, hearing his soft snores as he starts drifting off. "Go to sleep," you whispered. "I love you."

König

At first he was only open to it halfway. He'd drape his leg over yours before adding weight from his chest onto you.

As he slowly moved more on top of you with his head on your chest, he kept checking to see if you were okay, if you were still breathing or having a hard time breathing.

Lots of reassurance later, he finally let all of his weight down on you.

Instantly wrapped your arms around him tightly, taking a deep breath at the peace you feel right now with the perfect amount of weight on you.

He chuckled as you stroked your nails along his toned back, soothing strokes up and down his soft skin.

It wasn't surprising for movie nights to end up like you are now, barely keeping consciousness as you're blessed with the weight of König laying on top of you as a weighted blanket. You fell asleep in the middle of the movie, your boyfriend laid between your legs, crawling up to lay across your chest.

The AC was on, and your room was the perfect coolness. The mixture of König's warm skin pressed against you and the cold air relaxed you. Your hands instinctively tickled softly across his back muscles, soothing the both of you.

The sensation had König's eyes fluttering shut in his state of relaxation.

"You asleep, baby?"

"Nein..." he replied, but with that tone of voice, you could tell he was lying, trying to fight off the sleep overtaking him. "Trying to... relax into your touch, Meine Liebe..."

Your hands slowly start to massage his tensed muscles, furthering his relaxation. He groaned as more body weight pressed on top of you, your telltale sign of how tired he actually was.

"Baby..." you cooed with a grin across your lips. "You need to sleep, yeah?"

He didn't reply verbally, but he barely shook his head. You leaned up best you could to see his face, eyes closed, mouth agape as he slightly drooled onto your tank top. You chuckled, rubbing a tuft of hair as you laid your head back, soon to fall asleep yourself.

[ak319]

a nice request because we all deserve it, sadie and reader being besties/soulmates/sisters and even if people try to separate them, they somehow always come back together

When Sadie joined the gang, you were thrilled to have another woman you could truly call a sister. But when Arthur told you what she’d been through, you felt a shock settle over you and an urge to make her feel as comfortable in the gang as possible.

You didn’t do much work around camp yourself, likely second only to Molly in doing almost nothing, but Arthur’s hard work covered both of your shares. Even so, you could feel lazy at times. So when Sadie arrived and Ms. Grimshaw started scolding her for being a burden, you stepped in, doing more of the work so that Sadie could rest and cope with her trauma.

Your care and company helped her eventually open up to you, and you came to see what a remarkably strong woman she truly was. You couldn’t be prouder.

"Hey, (Y/N)." You turned to see Sadie striding over, her new gear and black jacket catching the late sun, an excited gleam in her eyes. Setting aside the dish you’d been scrubbing, you smiled. "Well, don’t you look dashing."

She winked, leaning against the basin with a smirk. "Wasn’t I always?" She tossed you a playful look, then tilted her head. "So…you know how to shoot a gun, right?"

You felt a little heat in your cheeks as you chuckled nervously. "Uh, gun? Not exactly."

Sadie blinked in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "What?! You’ve been living with outlaws all your life, and neither of ‘em thought to teach you?"

"Well…” you shrugged, glancing away. “I was young when Dad was around, and after he passed, I just never felt the need, I guess. And once we were with the gang--” You trailed off, only for Sadie to scoff and seize your arm, tugging you toward the woods without a second thought.

“HEY! Hey! Where are we going?!”

“Where do you think? I’m gonna teach you, girly!"

“Teach what?” Arthur’s shadow fell across both of you as he stepped into your path.

Sadie glanced up at him, not an ounce of her spark fading. “I’m gonna teach her to shoot, Arthur.”

“And why’s that, Ms. Adler?”

Sadie met his gaze, unflinching. “Because she’s my friend, and don’t you think the sister of the ‘best gunslinger in the West’ oughta know how to handle a weapon? She oughta learn, right, (Y/N)?” She looked at you with a fierce grin, her confidence contagious. You gave a firm nod. “Yeah…I do want to learn.” Arthur’s gaze shifted to you, a small scoff escaping him.

"Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "But don’t be gettin’ reckless. Be back soon. Don't got too far."

Sadie smirked, unfazed. “Can you stop orderin’ us around for one damn second, Morgan?” She nudged his shoulder as she marched you past, puffing up with satisfaction.

“Damn…” You chuckled as you walked beside her. “That was fun to watch, do that every day, please.”

She laughed with you, her stride bold as you both reached a clearing deep in the woods. There, with patient resolve, she taught you how to handle the gun, steady your aim, and shoot straight, her guiding presence turning each attempt into a small triumph.

Shooting wasn’t the only thrill that had become a staple in your friendship with Sadie. At least once a week, you both made it a point to slip into town, getting up to whatever mischief caught your fancy. It didn’t matter if it was something as innocent as shopping, where Sadie often barked down the shopkeepers during bargaining, or something as wild as crashing a wedding. You couldn’t help but smirk, you could officially check that one off your list.

When you both returned to camp, it wasn’t long before Susan caught sight of you, her face pinched in that familiar disapproving way. “Where did you two run off to today, hmm? Having fun while others do the work?”

Sadie shot back without missing a beat, her tone dripping with defiance. “Of course, we had fun. By the look of you, I’d say it’s been a while since you’ve had any.”

You nudged Sadie, stifling a laugh, though the humor didn’t last long. Susan’s voice cut through with a sharper edge. “Well, some of us do actual work around here instead of frolicking around all day in town.”

You took a deep breath, deciding to keep it civil. “I went after finishing what I could for the day, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Oh? And by that, you mean what? Washing two pieces of clothing?” Her scoff stung, and your smile faded. That was it.

“Now, first of all, I don’t have to do any of it,” you replied, voice steady but firm, “seeing as this whole camp practically thrives off what my brother does. But I still help out, from the goodness of my heart. C’mon, Sadie.”

You grabbed Sadie’s arm, and she looked at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before breaking into a grin. “Well, look at that. My company’s finally having an effect on you, in a good way, I’d say.”

“I’m just sick of all the chore talk. Can’t a girl relax once in a while?”

Once you’d left Susan fuming in your wake, you and Sadie joined Abigail and the others, handing out the little gifts you’d picked up in town. The warm smiles from Abigail, Jack, and the rest made it worth it, a small reminder of what life outside the gang could feel like.

Soon enough, sneaking out became something of a habit. You and Sadie would slip out at night when Arthur was away on a job, sometimes taking the other women along. No Ms Grimshaw scolding or nagging to keep you tied down, just the freedom to be a little reckless, to feel like you had some control. And Charles? When he patrolled, he was easily convinced to keep it all a secret.

But Ms Grimshaw did have her ways of finding things...

"Well, if it isn’t our very own troublemakers," she snapped, her gaze fixed on you and Sadie, who were both just returning from a night out with the others. You’d barely managed to set down your packs when she stormed over, hands on her hips. “Thought you could sneak out and cause a ruckus without anyone noticing, did you? It’s dangerous enough out there as it is, but dragging others into your little escapades is a step too far.”

Sadie rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, and you braced yourself, knowing the real storm hadn’t even hit yet. Grimshaw shot both of you a withering look, muttering something about going straight to Dutch.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Dutch himself found you both by the campfire, his face a blend of frustration and disappointment. He folded his arms, giving you both a hard look. “Now, I heard some interesting things from Ms. Grimshaw this morning. You two think it’s wise to be sneaking around, taking half the camp along for a joyride? With Pinkertons and O’Driscolls sniffing around every corner?!”

Sadie stayed silent, her jaw set as Dutch’s gaze landed on her. "Sadie, I understand you’re your own woman, but this here’s a family. And we look out for each other’s safety. Taking the others out at night like that, it puts everyone at risk.”

You felt the weight of Dutch’s words, but Sadie huffed, arms crossed defiantly. “You call us family, Dutch, but don’t expect us to live like caged animals. We’re careful, we weren’t out in the open.”

Dutch’s frown deepened as he turned to you. “And you, (Y/N), you should know better than this. You might not be one of my gunslingers, but you still have a role to play. What if something had happened to you? Or one of the others? Arthur won't be happy if he found out...do you want that?”

Swallowing, you looked down, the reality of his worry sinking in, but not enough to make you feel you’d done something wrong. “NO! I mean--don't tell him please Dutch, and I’m sorry. But… it was just some time away from the camp, just a way to feel normal for a bit. No one got hurt. We’re still careful.”

He shook his head, looking both of you over before sighing. “Careful or not, you keep this up, and it’ll bring nothing but trouble. Next time, you both think long and hard about what’s at stake here!”

Once Dutch walked away, you looked at Sadie, both of you sharing a silent understanding. The scolding might have left a sting, but it wouldn’t change what you’d built together. She nudged your shoulder with a smirk.

“Well, at least he didn’t send us packing.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Ain’t nothing gonna change, is it? Not Dutch, not Grimshaw, and certainly not us.”

Sadie grinned. “Nope. Not one bit.”

⋆⋆⋆

Word had gotten around the camp that Dutch’s scolding hadn’t done much to break up your mischief with Sadie. The next time you found yourself alone by the fire, Charles approached, looking a little uneasy as he settled next to you.

“You know, (Y/N),” he began carefully, “I’m not trying to get in your way, but a lot of folks are worried about you and Sadie going off so often. It’s... reckless, especially with all the dangers around.”

You shot him a look, half-amused and half-defensive. “Charles, you know Sadie and I aren’t careless. And you know better than anyone that the camp needs a little... escape.”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, as if he wanted to say something more but hesitated. “Look, maybe for a bit, you should keep a low profile. Sadie’s got her hands full around here already. You know Grimshaw’s not about to let this go.”

The gentle nudge was clear, Charles was subtly trying to steer you away from Sadie, hoping it might keep the peace. You gave him a smile that you hoped would reassure him.

“I’ll think about it, Charles,” you replied, even though you had no real intention of distancing yourself from Sadie.

But the subtle hints didn’t end there. The next morning, Grimshaw handed you a mountain of chores, insisting you stay busy while Sadie got sent on an errand with Arthur, as if the camp were conspiring to keep you apart. The day felt like it dragged on forever, and by the time you were done, Sadie still hadn’t returned. You wandered back to your tent feeling restless, the quiet gnawing at you.

Finally, near dusk, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Sadie had returned, looking as annoyed as you felt, her gaze scanning the camp until it landed on you.

She sauntered over, her usual confidence edged with a slight smirk. “Heard they kept you real busy today.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You, too. They sent you out with Arthur?”

“Sure did,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Probably thought he’d keep me ‘in line.’ But if they think a few chores and errands are gonna split us up, they’re wasting their time.”

You both shared a grin, the unspoken understanding strengthening whatever they’d tried to weaken.

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to be a little smarter about sneakin’ off,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Sadie chuckled, crossing her arms. “Reckon we will. Besides, it’ll be fun to keep ‘em guessing.”

⋆⋆⋆

Life at the ranch was a new kind of quiet you hadn’t known before. After everything, this normalcy, the steady rhythm of days spent under a roof, sharing meals with Abigail, John, Arthur and little Jack, felt almost surreal. You’d never imagined feeling the weight of peace settle like this. Thank God, that blindfold of loyalty is finally off your brother. Yet, even with a good life beginning to take root, you couldn’t shake the ache from how it had all ended...or how, despite everything, you and Sadie had been separated, each of you pulled in different directions as the dust settled.

Charles had told you she was safe somewhere out there, making a name for herself in whatever way only Sadie Adler could. But there was a hint of betrayal you couldn’t shake, an edge to the thought of her that made you wonder if she’d left you behind as part of that rough world you’d survived together.

On this particular morning, you were sitting on the porch with Jack, who was excitedly yapping away about a new book he’d found. It had become your morning ritual, letting him share every detail of the story while you sip your coffee, the soft morning light casting a gentle calm over the two of you.

But the peace was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hooves in the distance. When you looked up, your heart skipped a beat. A lone rider, the silhouette familiar even from a distance. She rode into view, her hat tipped low, and you knew before she’d even slowed her horse.

“Sadie!” you shouted, the disbelief almost louder than your voice. You jumped up and ran to her, barely giving her time to dismount before you threw yourself into her arms. She wrapped you up tight, the both of you laughing, giddy with that same energy you’d shared back in camp.

But then, as the reality of her long absence hit, you started punching her, soft jabs that held more meaning than harm. "You absolute snake! BITCH!” you muttered, hitting her shoulder, her arm, anywhere you could reach. “You just left! No word, no letter...nothing! Do you know how long I waited?”

Sadie took it, grinning like she was actually enjoying the punishment, her laughter spilling out as she grabbed your hands to stop you from flailing. “Alright, alright! I deserve that, probably more. But I didn’t forget you, y’know.” She held your shoulders firmly, her face softening as she looked you in the eyes. “I never could dumbass.”

“Then why’d you stay gone so damn long?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Her expression turned serious, the reality of it all weighing on her. “Some things I had to settle on my own. And I knew you’d be safe here, with Arthur, John and Abigail. With family.” She squeezed your shoulder. "So now, you're talkin' to a real gold-ass bounty hunter," she said, throwing her arms out like a magician who’d just pulled off the trick of a lifetime. "But I’m here now, and I’m not plannin’ on disappearing again anytime soon.”

You let out a long breath, feeling the hurt ease a bit. “You better not,” you replied, hugging her tight again.

Soon enough, the others came out, drawn by the commotion and Jack's excited voice as he kept chatting with Sadie. The day rolled on with laughter and good company, and later, you and Sadie found yourselves sitting on the porch, enjoying the quiet night as she smoked.

“(Y/N), you’re mostly free, right?” Sadie asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“Um… no, I do work around here… and all,” you replied, caught a bit off guard.

“What if you didn’t for a few days?” Her eyes sparked with mischief, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself.

“You mean…”

“Yep! It’s time you learned a bit of bounty hunting,” she said, voice full of excitement. “Imagine it: two women, both traumatized by men, turning into man-hunting machines. Don’t you want that?”

“But Arthur… he won’t, and we left all this life behind-”

“Shh!” Sadie swatted at your face with dramatic flair. “Excuses are the root of failure. Enjoy a little , c'mon, just like the old times.”

“But we have a ranch-”

“FUCK THE RANCH!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Look (Y/N)...I wanna a home of my own and for that...I gotta remain in this field for a while so I can get somethin' to call my own, y'know.”

"This ranch is big enough for us all, Sadie. Of course we all will welcome you with open arms if you wanna stay here."

"I know, I know, and thanks, but no. I just want something of my own, even if it’s small. I mean, I can do it alone, y'know, but I want you by my side. And seeing that everyone else has left this lifestyle behind, I know they're definitely not gonna be joining me, not even Arthur. Now that we're free from all the gang shit, I thought we could roam and enjoy the rest of this life as much as we can." Her voice softened with each word as she stared down at her lap.

You looked down, thinking about it. She did deserve that after losing everything she had. And who wouldn't want to explore with their friend endlessly? You put your arm around her shoulders and gave a firm shake. “Say less.”

⋆⋆⋆

“No. Absolutely the hell not. Are you insane?!” Arthur snapped, finally turning around from his spot.

“Arthur, please! Be a good brother right now and just say, ‘Of course, (Y/N), you can go and have a good time with your pal.’ Come on, say it.”

He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “If you think I’m just gonna say yes to you running around out there, then you are DUMB!”

Abigail, standing nearby, came to the rescue. “Arthur, they’re just going for a trip. It’s nothing big, and Sadie can more than handle it. So can (Y/N). They’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, Arthur’s right,” John chimed in.

“Shut up, John. Please,” you replied, giving him a gentle nudge as you turned back to Arthur, your voice softening. “Pleaseee, Arthur! If you don’t let me go, I’ll… I’ll seriously do something drastic--t-to to myself!” You gave him your best pleading look.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes at your childish blackmailing. “You’re laying it on real thick,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave Sadie a look. “And you, I know this whole thing was your idea!”

Sadie shrugged leaning against the chair. "It's just something we both need."

“Like hell you do! My decision is final. And you-” Arthur turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Think twice before even stepping foot off this ranch.” With that, he stormed off, leaving you both in tense silence.

But you were having none of it. He still thought of you as a child, someone who couldn’t defend herself, who couldn’t even swat a fly, let alone fend off danger. You glanced over at Sadie, who was staring off into the distance, a flicker of guilt settling into her expression, as though she regretted bringing it up and getting you tangled in her plans. And you didn’t like that one bit.

This was the woman who had taught you to be confident, to speak up, to stand your ground when the world tried to tell you otherwise. She was more like a sister than a friend, the person you’d count on to get through even the worst of times. You were each other’s rocks, through every fight and every high. Sadie would bring you gifts to cheer you up when things felt bleak. And now she was just trying to carve a space for herself, a house of her own, where she could finally feel free.

A spark of determination lit inside you. If she wanted a place to call her own, then by God, you were going to make sure she got it.

That night, as everyone else drifted off to sleep, you packed a small bag with essentials, just enough to keep you going for a couple of days. You knew Arthur would be furious, but you also knew he’d forgive you eventually. He had to understand that some choices were yours to make.

Carefully, you slipped out of the house and made your way across the moonlit yard, avoiding the creaky spots on the floorboards that might wake someone. Outside, the night air was cool and still, and the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle creaking of the barn as it settled. You made your way toward the stables, saddling your horse as quickly and quietly as you could. You took a steadying breath before mounting up, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and fear. This was your choice, and you were ready to see it through.

With a gentle nudge, you rode into the night, following the faint trail that would lead you to Sadie. You knew exactly where she was camping, she’d mentioned it enough times, and you’d memorized her directions. You just hoped she hadn’t moved.

After a few hours of riding, you spotted her fire in the distance, flickering like a beacon. You dismounted and walked up, and as you drew closer, you saw her sitting by the fire, eyes widening in surprise as she looked up.

“What in hell’s name, (Y/N)! What’re you doing here?” Sadie gasped, scrambling to her feet. Her surprise turned into a grin as she realized what you’d done.

“Arthur or no Arthur, I’m not letting you go on this adventure alone,” you replied, determination in your voice. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. Always.” Sadie’s face broke into a mischievous smile and pulled you into a quick, tight hug.

“I knew there was a reason I kept ya around.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

Sooo my Ghoul idea! So fem reader, the ghoul takes an odd job unlike his regular job with just killing people for money. A employer hires the ghoul and pays him BIG BIG “money” Caps to bring his daughter home safely across the dangerous wasteland. The reader is a vault dweller and so is the father who has outside connections so he knows who to contact and bring his daughter back. She snuck out to see what up top was really like, and to escape an assigned marriage. Reader is not so bright, basically a bimbo 😅, first time for reader, reader actually finds him attractive, cream pie, Dom Ghoul. Hopefully this is something you’d like to write! ❤️

Thank you for this request!! I hope I did it justice 😁🥰

~~

Over Your Head

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Loss of virginity, degradation, thigh riding, a little of the Ghoul’s self-loathing, painful sex (that becomes not painful), nipple play, dacryphilia, spitting, creampie, copious dirty talk

The Ghoul heaves a world-weary sigh. “Listen, darlin’,” he starts as he grips your ankle to shove your foot away from where it teases his inner thigh. “Your daddy’s payin’ a hefty sum o’ caps to bring ya’ back in one piece. I don’t think he’ll appreciate me deflowerin’ his lil’ princess.” The last word is said with so much contempt even you can’t miss it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whine, bottom lip protruding in a pout.

“Means you’re gettin’ on my last goddamn nerve.” The inhaler hisses when he sucks down a hit. Outside, the wind howls and rattles the foundation of the crumbling office building in which you’d taken shelter. He assumes the dust storm that kicked up and trapped the two of you here, alone, is some kind of divine punishment for his misdeeds. “I know there’s some fuckin’ smooth-skinned brat down in your vault who’s dyin’ to fumble around with ya’. You’re better suited for him.”

The Ghoul watches as your disappointed frown morphs into one of determination. He can almost see the gears working in your head as you try to think up a way to get what you want. You aren’t used to being told “no,” that much is clear.

Never has he regretted taking a job more than he does at this moment.

“I don’t want someone from my vault,” you say as you move onto your hands and knees. Languidly, you crawl through the sand and he can’t help the way his gaze falls on the sway of your hips. He grits his teeth when you slide into his lap, the warmth between your thighs settling right against his clothed cock. “I want you.”

“Did ya’ hit your head on the vault door on your way out, sweetheart?” he questions as your palms come to rest on his shoulders. His own hands, rough from life on the surface and scarred from rads, smooth over your hips and slide down to cup your ass. Irritation shifts into bemused resignation. Admittedly, it’s been a long, long while since he’s been intimate with anyone, and the way you’re writhing in his lap chips away at the last vestiges of his resolve.

“No?” you reply, obviously confused. Pretty…and dumb. Though, he’s still not convinced this isn’t some kind of elaborate prank. Why you’d want him of all people—when you could have anyone you want—is beyond his comprehension.

But, here you are, apparently ready and quite willing. Who is he to snuff out your hopes and dreams, as misguided as they are?

Slowly, the Ghoul inhales through his teeth as one of his hands slides up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb brushes over your nape and he feels a shiver zip down your spine. “I don’t think ya’ know what you’re gettin’ yourself into, sugar.”

Already, your eyes are half lidded and hazy, your plush lips parted to allow for quick breaths. Desperate. Innocent. “Pretty please,” comes your tremulous whisper.

He’s going to make you regret every decision you’ve ever made.

The hand on your neck twists so he can gather up a handful of your hair. He brings your face inches from his own so his lips hover just out of your reach. A grin pulls at his mouth when he feels you test his grip, desperate to close the distance.

He leans in until he’s a hair’s breadth away, until you can feel his exhale ghosting across your panting mouth. “Ain’t no backin’ out a’ this once I tear into ya’.” Hastily, you nod and a breathy whine sneaks past your teeth. Your unbridled enthusiasm is going to be the death of him.

Or you.

The Ghoul’s lips crash into yours in a searing kiss. He swallows your sweet mewl and the sharp gasp that follows when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. The feeling of your hips bucking in his lap and the taste of your blood on his tongue rips a rasping groan from his throat.

“Get up and strip,” he orders. He releases your hair and lands a stinging swat on your ass for emphasis. You yelp but scurry away, apparently determined to prove your obedience. The slide of your zipper fills the small space and the Ghoul’s eyes rake over your body as the vault uniform is peeled away, little by little.

The clink of his belt buckle follows and it’s nearly impossible to contain his snort of laughter when your eyes grow comically wide at the sight of him. He palms his cock and slowly hisses through his teeth when you squirm impatiently on the spot, now as naked as the day you were born. Even from here, he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs.

“Come take a seat, kiddo,” The Ghoul says as he spreads his legs and slaps a thigh. Eagerly, you straddle his quad. He wraps a hand around your throat as the other settles on your waist. Slight pressure urges the roll of your hips and soon you’re grinding your slick into his pants.

“What would your daddy say if he saw ya’ actin’ like such a desperate little slut, huh? For a ghoul, no less.” As he speaks, the hand on your waist slides up to roughly tweak a nipple. You squeal and attempt to twist away, but his grip on your throat prevents too much movement. The Ghoul clicks his tongue, “I thought I said no runnin’.”

“It hurts!” You whimper when he turns the same mean treatment on the other nipple.

“Then why are you soakin’ my pant leg, baby?” The moan you loose when his fingers slip down your belly to prod your clit heats the lust burning in his gut. He snatches one of your hands, wraps it around his length, and uses it to stroke himself. The slide of your soft palm along twisted flesh earns you a strained grunt and the briefest fluttering of eyelids.

He watches you from under the brim of his hat. Your eyes are locked on the way your hand works up and down his shaft, your bottom lip glistening where you’ve wet it with your tongue. You’re damn near drooling at just the sight of his cock. The Ghoul has had about all he can take.

“C’mere,” he growls as he grabs hold of your waist and hauls you flush against him. An anxious squeak leaves you when the head of his cock nudges your slick hole. “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

You only manage half an inhale before the Ghoul digs his nails into your hips to spear you on his girth. Your pained shriek echoes off the walls and you scramble to pull yourself up and off, but his grip keeps you seated and forces inch by punishing inch through spasming, untouched muscles. Too soon, you’re impaled up to the hilt, your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your jaw working open and closed like you can’t find the air to scream.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, nearly overwhelmed by the death grip your hot, slippery insides have on his length. A steadying inhale allows him to turn his attention to you. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Gettin’ split open by my cock not what you’d hoped it’d be?”

The Ghoul tugs you closer to drag his tongue through the fat drops now rolling down your cheeks. Pinching your face between thumb and forefinger, he forces your mouth open and spits your anguish onto your tongue. This seems to shock you enough to draw a choked, furious sound out of you.

“F-fuck-stop-it-it’s too-so full,” you stammer, your thighs shaking like the shingles on the roof above. The Ghoul chuckles, dark and low, as his teeth find the soft flesh of your throat.

“I told ya’ t’breathe, baby,” he reminds you between teasing nips and licks. Your skin is rich like the food they feed you down in that vault, your scent lacking the taint of fear that comes from living life in the Wasteland. Good enough to eat….

Laboriously, you gasp, each breath minutely relaxing your cunt, just enough for the Ghoul to give a few experimental thrusts. The sound you make is distressed, yes, but now there’s something else there to, something akin to that desperation you showed him earlier.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Learnin’ how t’relax and take it. We’ll make a good lil’ whore outta ya’ yet.” Slowly, he moves your hips back and forth as he speaks. Eventually, you get the message and clutch his shoulders to attempt a few tentative undulations of your own. The Ghoul growls, his nails digging crescents into your skin where he holds you.

Soon, no pain remains in your vocalizations. You whine and moan and keen so sweetly, your cries filling the shelter and mingling with the wet squelching of your cunt. You find your rhythm and bounce, unrestrained, in his lap as your juices soak into his pants.

Pressure builds in his groin. The Ghoul can tell by the way your hips stutter and your sweet hole clenches that you’re about to finish too. Hastily, he pulls you against him, plants his boots in the dirt, and hammers up into you until you’re screaming all over again.

You cum a half a second before he does. You freeze in climax, your back arching, so the Ghoul must dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass to work you up and down his girth. With a growl on his lips and teeth bared, his cock pulses to paint your guts in thick ropes of ecstasy.

Long seconds pass as you both hover together in that liminal space of bliss. “Ohh…oh god…” you sigh finally, slumping, boneless. He mirrors your sentiment with a pleased groan that rumbles in his chest.

A hand in your hair tips your head back so the Ghoul can assess your dazed expression. “Fucked what lil’ sense ya’ had right outta ya’, huh?”

“You don’t have to be mean about—

A yawn overtakes your affronted huff. You move to scoot off his lap. “God, I’m so tired now.”

The Ghoul hums disapprovingly and maintains his hold on your hips. “We ain’t done here, sugar. That dust storm is still howlin’ and you got two holes left for me t’abuse.”

Nervously, you laugh and shake your head. “But, I thought…I just wanted—

“A big, bad man t’pop your cherry so ya’ had somethin’ t’brag about back in your vault. Well, I intend on doin’ just that and there ain’t no sense in doin’ somethin’ halfway. Not my problem ya’ bit off more than ya’ could chew, sweetheart.” A chuckle bubbles up from his throat at your horrified expression.

“On your knees, sugar.”

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #08)

FEB08: Love Letters

John’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He was staked out in the middle of the desert with the 141, keeping an eye on the Konni warehouse they were about to hit. His mind should have been on the mission, but all he could think about was his little lover waiting for him at home. 

Feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket gave him an almost Pavlovian response. He knew it was her; he’d set the ringtone specifically so. His breath hitched in his chest, his heart raced, and his hand itched to reach into his pocket to check his notifications. The captain felt like an addict, but he didn’t care. He was hooked.

He sat down in the small alcove next to his gear and unlocked his cell. The red notification icon on his email taunted him. Before he opened the email, he checked over his shoulder to make sure no one would see the contents. 

Dear John,

Just wanted to send you a message to let you know to expect three charges on your credit card. I paid your water bill, your gas bill, and I accidentally bought a movie on your Amazon Prime. I guess I forgot to log you out after our last movie night together. I have a whole week’s worth of movies for us to watch when you get back. Been keeping a list of the good ones. 

I hope you’re doing well. I know you can’t always respond, but I miss you and I’m thinking about you all the time. It feels like you’re thinking about me, too, and I’m choosing to believe that it’s true. Stay safe. 

Yours. xoxo

Over his shoulder, John felt Gaz’s eyes on his message, and he clicked the screen off before shoving the phone back in his pocket. 

“Gettin’ updates from that neighbor girl, huh, Cap?” His sergeant quipped. 

Ghost smiled from across the small enclosure,

“He’s been glued to that phone like he’s waitin’ on a call from the bloody queen herself.”

“Perhaps we should all mind our own business, then,” Price bristled. 

“Did his lass send another message?” Johnny popped his head out of the doorway, talking around his toothbrush.

“Aye,” Ghost nodded, “But he’d like you not to notice, Sergeant.”

“Simon…” Price warned, hissing his name through his teeth. 

“Oh, c’mon, Cap’n,” Soap begged, emerging from the room, “Show us her wee photo again. She looked so bonnie…”

Price rolled his eyes and took out his phone, opening his lock screen to show Soap his background photo. It was one she had taken of herself on her porch, showing off a new plant she’d “rescued” from the home goods store. She did indeed look quite fit, the captain thought to himself, gazing upon the photo with no small amount of longing. 

“Jaysus,” Soap whistled, “We better rush through this fuckin’ op, boys. The captain has somewhere wayyyy more important to be.” 

The young sergeant clapped his commander on the shoulder, ribbing him supportively, laughing a bit at Price’s obvious embarrassment. 

John waited for all the nonsense to die down before opening his email to reply:

Hey love, 

Shouldn’t be too long now. Thanks for taking care of things while I’m gone. Don’t worry about the Prime. Buy all the movies you like. In fact, you should get yourself something nice from me. It’d make me feel like I was there taking care of you. 

I miss you so much, and you’re bloody fucking right about me thinking of you. It’s literally all I can do these days, and you’re always on my mind. Stay safe, pretty girl. 

Yours. xxxx

John sent the message and fixed his eyes back on the warehouse. He stared into the battleground with a renewed purpose. The sergeant was right. He had much more important things waiting for him at home, and he was in a hurry to get back to her.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Twisted Love

Billy Russo X Latina!Mercenary!Reader

Summary: based on this moodboard murder date with Billy made by the love of my life @fluffyprettykitty thank you for the inspo

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors yall better dnfi, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, blood kink, choking, hair pulling, degradation, he calls her a whore and she likes it, allusion to gunplay & knife play, Billy and reader get turned on by questionable acts, def dark themes, dark!Billy, dead bodies, actual murder, many acts of violence, and Billy canonically likes it rough and painful, they're both just unhinged

Reader is referred to as she/her, speaks Spanish here and there and is described to have long hair. If this is not you, that is okay. This is solely based on the moodboard. I use no further specifications so you can enjoy it regardless :)

WC: 4k

A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the person that I am, I blame selene for encouraging this. You have been warned, you read under your own responsibility. I missed Billy and his murderous questionable kinks, so here we are. (If you actually enjoy this you I guarantee we will see each other in hell)

"Billy." You groaned quietly, the voice in your earpiece shutting up at the sharpness of your voice. 

"Yes darlin'?" 

"I can't focus on shooting your target if you keep saying how you're going to fuck me stupid tonight. Or how you've been really wanting to fuck me with your gun." You said the last part through your teeth as you did your best to remain professional and stay focused. You were a mercenary, sure, but you were a professional one. 

"If you keep talkin' back, I will do so much more than that. You like knives, don't you?" You could hear the smug smirk he probably had on his face through his voice, even through your earpiece.

You couldn't help but groan, your skin growing burning hot under all of your gear, and it was getting hard to control your breathing the longer he kept spitting filthy words at you. 

"This is your op, Billy. So we can either have phone sex or I can shoot your target. Can't do both." You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on your handgun as you tried to ignore the heat between your legs. You heard him chuckle. 

"You're gettin' paid either way darlin'," he reminded you. "But if you get a headshot, I'll give you your bonus." 

You actually laughed at this, a smirk of your own falling on your lips, "You know I never miss. Don't gotta double tap if I shoot 'em in the head." 

This was like a little game of yours. Any time Billy called you— for anything other than a good fuck— it was for a target mission off the books. Legally, he was just a private contractor. Private security was his main gig. But off the books, he was still getting paid to take out targets for his old military superiors. When someone pushed at his buttons too much, he called you. Because you were like a ghost, in and out, no one even knew you were ever there. And he thought your post-op adrenaline made for killer sex. You getting paid was just a courtesy on his end. You had honestly stopped caring about the money a long time ago. But he paid you your part anyway. So it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. 

"Mhmm,  I love it when you talk dirty." He sighed a long breath and you smiled to yourself, holding your gun close to your chest as you quietly walked through the dark, otherwise empty house. You could hear movement and indistinct voices on the other side of the wall

"I hear voices in the next room. Two targets so far. Standby for confirmation." Billy laughed at how official you sounded. You truly never did get rid of that military part of you. 

You peeked your head through the crack on the door of a large study. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to identify the targets. One was the man Billy had hired you to kill, a Marine Colonel that had gotten too greedy and was making threats. That didn't exactly sit well with Billy or anyone else involved. The other man, though, you weren't sure, but he also seemed to be military. 

"I'm looking at your target. But I'm not sure who the other one is. Looks military, though. What do you want me to do?" You whispered the question to Billy. He stayed silent for a few seconds. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, growing inpatient at his silence. But he spoke before you could yell at him. 

He groaned first, clearly something hadn't gone according to plan. "Just take both of them out. I don't need witnesses." 

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You took in a deep breath, your heart starting to race as the adrenaline started to pump in your blood. 

"Remember, I want you in and out, don't worry about nobody else. That's what I'm here for, baby." 

"You're such a romantic, mi cielo." You bit your lip, you heard him chuckle in response. 

You waited another second, long enough for them to be close enough for you to take them out both at the same time before the other could draw their gun. Stealth was your specialty anyway. You were thankful the large doors didn't creak when you opened them further. Both men were facing away from you. Good. You took a step inside the study, and with a grin, you pulled the trigger. 

One. 

Two. 

Both men dropped to the ground with a thud. You sighed out the breath you had been holding and you slowly approached the two bodies. And you smiled at your work. 

Headshots. 

"I'm done here. Getting out now." You said to Billy. You heard him give you a quick hum of confirmation. 

You nodded to yourself, picking up your shell casings before you hurried out of the study. You went around through long halls for what seemed to be an eternity, until you came to the hall that led to the foyer of the house. 

Almost there. 

"Don't you fucking move." A voice rasped beside you. You saw out of the corner of your eye the barrel of a handgun. Well so much for Billy taking care of everything. 

You closed your eyes, slowly raising your hands to show your handgun. You turned your head enough to look at the man. More military. Great. This was going to be shit show. 

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you here?" The man screamed at you, his gun still on your face. You said nothing, you simply stared at him. He couldn't really see your face, not through your balaclava. Only your eyes were visible. "Give me that fucking gun and get on the ground. Now!" 

You stared at him, not moving a muscle. The only man you would ever get on your knees for was Billy. This one could shoot you for all you cared. 

"I said get on your knees or I'll shoot!' 

"Shoot me then." You said dryly, hands still in the air. 

Just get a bit closer, you thought. 

The man seethed at your response and stepped closer. Your lips irked up. You turned your body, your free hand gripping his gun and diverting it away from your head. The man squeezed the trigger. You grunted loudly, your ears ringing, but you didn't care. You wrestled with the man, landing a punch on his face that made his nose gush with blood. He stumbled backward but didn't fall. If anything, that made him more angry, and he lunged at you. He reached for the braid that stuck from under your balaclava and he pulled, really fucking hard. You grunted out in pain when he tugged your hair to drag you close enough for him to grab you. You fought against him, but you could only do so much against a man twice your size. His fist hit your jaw with enough force to make you dizzy for a second. And he took that opportunity to grab your vest and threw you over a nearby coffee table. Your body slammed so hard against it you ended up on the floor, with it in pieces. 

You weren't a religious person, but goddamn, you were seeing God right about now. You groaned in pain as you tried to push through. You tried to sit up as fast as you could, but the man was already towering over you, and a large boot forced you down by your chest. You forced down the cry of pain you wanted to let out, only breathing out sharply instead. You couldn't find your gun, and you had one, pointed right at your face now. 

"Fucking bitch." The man spat, leaning down to tear your balaclava from your face. You grunted, your face twisted into a scowl as he pulled it off. He scoffed. He was about to say something into his walkie when a voice you were all too familiar with caught his attention. 

"Hey." Billy stood a few feet away, having heard the gunshot and ran in. He didn't even flinch when he pulled the trigger. The man dropped dead a second later. 

You blew out a breath of relief, and you laughed, running a hand over your face. Well shit. You were hoping you wouldn't get any blood on yourself tonight. 

Billy was beside you in a split second, a large hand pulling you up to your feet. His eyes were big with a mixture of panic and anger, and he scanned your body for injuries. His hand landed on your lip, split and bleeding. His jaw ticked but you shook your head at him. 

"You okay?" He asked with a heavy breath. You nodded at him, your own hands touching his face. Blood stained his neck and part of his face. But you had a feeling it wasn't his. "Si?" 

You nodded again, "Si." 

Billy plastered a hard kiss on your lips, his hand holding the back of your head. You hummed against his lips, gripping his own vest. He pulled back after a few seconds, and his eyes landed on the dead man lying next to him. His neck twitched, and his jaw tightened as he pulled the trigger two more times. The man was already dead, Billy had shot him in the head the first time. But he needed to get that out of his system. 

"That was by far the hottest thing you've ever done for me." You breathed out, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kissed him this time. Much harder. He groaned into your mouth, the side of his handgun brushing your hip as he gripped them with both hands. 

"Did you do what I asked?" He muttered against your lips. 

"Headshots. As always." You smirked against his lips, your skin growing hot just as the ache between your legs grew. 

"Mhmm, that's a good girl." He pressed another kiss to your lips. "Come. Gotta get outta here." 

You nodded, looking on the ground for a second for your handgun. Your eyes skimmed around for a bit before you smiled and you happily picked it up from the ground. When you looked up, Billy was looking at you with an irked eyebrow. 

"Que? It's my favorite gun. I wasn't gonna leave it here. It's got my fingerprints all over it." You shrugged, casually walking past Billy towards the kitchen. You came through that backdoor. It'd probably be easier to leave that way as well. 

Billy watched you with a raised eyebrow. It did always turn him on to see you in your tactical gear. He laughed to himself and followed you. He stayed close behind you, within hand reach at all times. He was so close that he actually bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly. You turned around, and one of your hands came to grip his vest while the other held up your handgun. He frowned, about to question you when you forcefully moved him to the side an inch or two. 

"Agh shit!" He grunted out, a bullet still catching the plate on his back with enough force to make him stumble. 

You kept your grip on his vest as you pulled the trigger twice and he heard a loud thud a second later. When he turned his head he saw a guard on his back, writhing in pain as blood gushed from his chest. Shit, he must have missed the guy when he was clearing the outside of the house. 

He draped a hand over his shoulder where the bullet hit, eyes never leaving you as you quietly walked over to the guard, gun held up. The man began to stammer, coughing up blood as he tried to crawl away. You blinked, head tilted and jaw tight as you pulled the trigger two more times. The man stopped moving with that second bullet. Your face twisted with disdain when you felt blood splatter on your face. Again. 

"Agh, puta sangre de mierda." This fucking blood. 

You harshly wiped your hand over your face, probably making a bigger mess than there already was. You flinched, your gun held up and stopped at Billy's chest. He had a wide smirk on his face, his hands raised, but he was just mocking you. 

"You wanna point that gun somewhere else, pretty girl?" He taunted with a smirk. You gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw. 

"Estás fucking sordo?" Are you fucking deaf? Billy couldn't speak Spanish. But he had learned to pick up on your angry Spanish over time. His smirk only grew wider when you holstered your gun and slammed your flat hands against his chest, attempting to shove him, but he didn't move much. "Did you not hear the motherfucker coming? Are you okay? Did the bullet go through the plate?" 

He found your angry concern amusing, endearing even. But the mocking smirk on his face only made your blood boil more. 

"Aw, my pretty mercenary is worried about me?" He taunted you more, and the fire in your eyes made him completely forget about the throbbing on his shoulder blade. Though he felt a different kind of throb when he felt your flat palm collide with his cheek. 

His eyes widened for a second as he processed the heat spreading through his cheek. He breathed a laugh, but it wasn't a humorous one. Not in the slightest. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could taste the smallest bit of blood. He counted in his head. Six guards altogether, three Marines inside. There were five dead bodies outside. Four inside. Good. 

He didn't say a word as he reached out to you, he grabbed the back of your braid and crashed his lips against yours with so much force it gave you whiplash. You didn't protest though, you welcomed it, actually. You gripped his vest tightly as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He hummed with satisfaction as you clung to his vest. He gripped your hair tightly as he made you back into the kitchen island behind you. 

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him hoist you up on the counter. 

"The fuck are you doing?" You pulled back enough to speak, not that you were arguing with him, you had been wanting him ever since you got here. He flashed you a sadistic grin as he gripped your vest and pulled you to the edge so that he was standing between your open legs. 

"Gonna fuck you stupid. That's what." He replied in a heartbeat as his fingers unbuckled the clasps of your vest. He tossed it aside and his eyes instantly landed on the blood splatters staining your jaw and neck. 

"Right here?" You gave him a wide eyed look, lips slightly parted as he ridded himself of his own vest, leaving him a plain black long-sleeve compression shirt. 

"Right here. You did everythin' I asked, and more. And you know I'm a man of my word." Your long-sleeve black shirt was gone next and his lips immediately attached to your jaw. "You don't gotta play innocent with me darlin'. Bet if I touch you you’ll be soaking wet." 

Fuck, you wished he didn’t know you so well. You were real fucking good at pretending with the whole world. But you couldn't pretend with him. And you couldn't deny that you had been wanting him to fuck you senseless the second you saw his face that day. And that tactical uniform of his, fuck it didn't help your cause in the slightest. 

"You know I always want you, doesn't matter when or where." You answered through a ragged breath, your eyelashes fluttered as he ran his tongue over the skin of your neck, and at the same time, he shoved his hand into your cargo pants, right past your panties.

"Yeah, you want me? You want me right now? Covered in blood and everythin'?" He pulled back enough to watch your face as his finger brushed over your cunt. And he was pleased by how right he was. You were so wet. Your mouth fell open as he slipped a finger into you with ease. "You are such a fuckin' whore. You've been this wet this whole time, haven't you? You just killed three men for me, and you're wet?"

God, you should feel disgusted with yourself, with him, but you felt nothing of the sort. If anything, it aroused you more. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more as your shaky hands fumbled with the belt of your cargo pants. You tugged until you ultimately got them off one leg once you managed to kick off one of your combat boots. Billy only watched with amusement as you struggled. But he otherwise didn't help you. He liked watching you struggle.  

"Goddamn you're so needy. Such a needy whore." He mocked you with a laugh, but he rewarded you with another finger nonetheless. 

"Yes, yes I'm a whore." You whined, holding yourself upright by gripping his shirt. "I'm your whore. Fuck— Please, I did good." 

Billy nodded at this, the pathetic pleads coming from your mouth making his cock strain against his cargos even more. How such a fierce and vicious mercenary like yourself could give in so easily to him he had no idea, but he sure wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest. 

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. I'm gonna give you exactly what you deserve, don't worry." He spoke through a groan, he rutted his palm against your clit, brushing against it as he curled his fingers against that one spot that made your thighs shudder. 

You bunched his shirt around your fist as your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your hips involuntarily grinding against his hand. Billy watched with amusement as you desperately rocked yourself back and forth on the counter while he undid his pants with his free hand. 

His fingers left you abruptly, leaving your chasing and jaw slacked. You whined, your mouth opening to curse at him but he was gripping your braid with one hand as he brushed his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick. 

"Yell at me again and I will fuck you with my gun until you cry." He spat, his jaw twitching as he forcefully slammed into you with a snap of his hips. 

You actually cried out this time, your toes curling and your nails dug into his chest. He pulled you to the edge of the counter until your legs hung loosely over his hips. He wound up his hand around your hair, pulling your head back as he rutted himself against you. He held your neck on full display as he dipped his head and ran his tongue over where blood stained your skin. 

"Fuck baby— you always feel so good. But goddamn, you fuckin' taste like heaven." He breathed against your skin, dragging his tongue from your pulse point to your jaw. 

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tangling around the chocolate locks to the root. And you pulled, and you pulled so hard he actually grunted in pain. 

"Dios Billy." You moaned, your lips against his ear, and he slammed into you so hard then he made you slide back on the counter. 

"Not God, baby. But I can be." He breathed out a laugh, his face pressed against your cheek as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. "Trust me, darlin', when I'm done with you, not even God is gonna make you get outta bed tomorrow." 

You choked out a cry as he brought you closer against him— if that was even possible— and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. His cock hit so deep it actually made you roll your eyes back this time. 

"O-oh shit— shit Billy. I'm gonna come. Please, I wanna come." You spoke in between pants, what you could manage to say with his hand on your throat. You were holding on to him for dear fucking life, both arms thrown over his shoulder as if he was the only thing keeping you from slipping off the countertop. 

"You wanna come? My pretty mercenary wants to come? You earned it, didn't you?" He pulled back enough to watch your face, and he released the grip on your throat so you could respond. 

"Yes! Coño I earned it, please." You sounded so desperate but you didn't care, if there was one man in this world you could let yourself be vulnerable for it was Billy. 

"Mhmm, of course you did." He slipped his hand between your bodies and his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit and he drilled into you, pretty much holding you in one place with a tight grip on your ass. "Yeah, like that? Yeah just like that, come for me. You're good at following orders, so come." 

You were seeing white the second his thumb was on your clit and your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as you came with a silent cry. You eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was hanging wide open as you gripped him tight enough to make his cock twitch. He breathed out a sigh of satisfaction and his lips curled up as he felt your wetness coat his cock. He looked down, and the sight of his cock slick with your come almost made him lose it. 

With a grunt he held you to his chest with a tight grip on the back of your neck and his fingers dug into your ass, holding you still for him as he fucked you. 

"Yeah, you take it just like that. Fuck— fuck that's a good girl." He moaned out the words, his head falling back ever so slightly. Enough for you to press your lips to his neck. But what made him completely lose it was your tongue, on his neck, similarly licking up the dry blood on his skin. "Ooh fuck me." 

His fingers dug deep into your scalp, enough for you to feel a slight burn, but you didn't fucking care. You dragged your lips up to his jaw as he fell still and you breathed out a laugh of satisfaction when you felt him spill himself inside you. He dragged his hips lazily, once, twice more before he just stood still. His fingers were deep rooted in your hair and his eyes were closed. You closed your own eyes as you pressed your forehead against his chest with a lazy smile on your face. 

Billy was silent, his fingers loosening on your hair until only his fingers were lazily dragging his fingers through the now loose strands. You kept your face on his chest, simply listening to his rapid heartbeat that matched your own. It slowly went steady, back to its normal rhythm. Only then Billy pulled back enough to look at your face. His dark eyes watched your face with something much softer and his fingers brushed over your bruised lip. 

"'M fine Billy. You've done worse." You sighed softly at him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. He furrowed his eyebrows at you. 

"That's me, though. I've never hit you— without your permission anyway. But I've never bruised your face. It ain't the same." He frowned, and you couldn't help but grin at his protectiveness. 

"I said I'm fine, mi cielo." You squeezed his wrist and shot up your eyebrows at him with a suggestive smile on your face. "Does this place have a master bathroom?" 

Billy thought for a second, he had been here once at least before. He figured a house this big probably did have a large bathroom. 

"Probably, why?" 

"Wanna wash this blood off me?" 

Billy's scowl was quickly replaced by a wide smirk of his own and he could feel his cock twitch the slightest bit as your suggestive tone. 

"For this pussy? Baby, I'd kiss the fuckin' ground you walk on." 

Billy was a fucked up man that had met his fucked up match. And he'd be damned if he ever denied you anything.

[captain-mj]

for könig/roach, roach comes back after a ling mission and könig shows him how much he really missed him in bed ;) (also selective mute roach gettin suprised by how vocal he is in bed w könig)

First time with this ship so hopefully this is good?

König waited very impatiently in their bed. Technically, it was his bed but Roach stayed there most nights anyway. They had tried to stay in Roach’s bed once and quickly found the size to be a problem.

But that was neither here nor there.

Right now, he was waiting for Roach to get back. The mission had ran much longer than it was supposed to but König had been promised he would be there by morning.

It was currently noon.

König fixed everything in his room again and made sure his hair was nice. He wasn't wearing his sniper hood tonight.

Roach entered the room silently, scaring him when he turned around to see him. His tiny boyfriend had cleaned up already and had a cup of coffee in hand. He went to sign but König descended on him, wanting all of his gear off now.

"Missed you so much, kleine motte. So much." König backed him up into the bed, making sure the cup didn't spill.

Roach smiled and let him get his gear off. Bruises covered a lot of him, but they looked to be mostly from his gear and falls, not hands. Once the cup was set safely on a nightstand, König finally got to push him in bed and pin him down. Like usual, Roach hesitated with his helmet, but it came off just like the rest of his clothing.

"Been thinking of you so much. I was so worried." He cradled Roach's face, careful of the burn scars.

Roach smiled at him and leaned into the touch, wrapping his legs around his hips. He pulled him down for a kiss and König melted. His hands pinned Roach by his hips to the bed.

König pressed his hard cock against Roach's ass and almost purred when Roach flushed brightly. He nodded quickly and tugged at König's shirt. They separated briefly to get the last bit of clothing between them off before they started to kiss again.

Roach blushed more and spread his legs for him. His hand covered his face, getting shy.

König couldn't fathom why. Roach was slimmer than the average soldier, though he was still toned. Burns ran along his skin in fractals like a lightning strike. A couple of tattoos ran along the scars, a moth, a beetle, flowers that surrounded the burn scars as if keeping them contained.

"Prächtig."

Roach hit him with a pillow. He apparently picked up on the meaning of that one.

"You are gorgeous!" König protested before kissing him along his chest. He was very careful of the bruising, not wanting to cause him any pain.

Roach made a hurry up motion with his hands as his hips bucked up.

König grabbed the lube and coated his fingers. He'd have to be extra careful since it had been a while. Roach was making that rather hard, desperately trying to get him to hurry up.

Starting with one finger, he pushed it into Roach, watching him arch. All the time without being touched must've made him sensitive. König didn't mind. Regardless, he didn't plan on letting Roach out of bed until morning.

Roach let out the tiniest of whimpers when König gently pushed deeper, curling his fingers to get him used to it. The sound made his insides light up with need. He forced another finger into him. His mouth fell open with a silent moan, back arching to let him in even deeper.

König kissed along his throat. His fingers scissored and pressed deeper, opening him up to more.

Roach buried his hands in his ginger hair, ruffling it. He held up three fingers and König got the message, pushing a third one into him.

Roach cried out, legs shaking. König put his hand on the inside of his thighs and his knee on the other to make sure he'd stay spread out for him. He started to drive his fingers into him over and over again until there was no more resistance.

A pretty blush had traveled down Roach's chest. The position seemed to being doing something for him. Tears were building in his eyes as he tried to clench around the fingers. One of his hands lifted up and made the sign for more.

König nodded and kissed him, slowly pulling his fingers out. He took him by his thighs and pushed his legs up while holding him open.

His cock always looked so big compared to Roach's body. Not that his boyfriend was that small, especially his cock, but compared to König, he seemed much smaller. It was the same way his hands. They almost circled all the way around Roach's waist.

Roach whined and aggressively finger spelled "hurry".

"Sorry, just admiring you." König blushed as he lined up.

Like always, Roach was so incredibly tight. He moved slowly, watching the bulge in Roach's stomach appear when he bottomed out. His hand pressed down on it and Roach gasped, head thrown back as the pressure in him increased

König rolled his hips slowly and Roach whimpered again, trying to move his legs but König pinned his thighs to the bed, spread apart as far as he could without it hurting. He thrust in and Roach let out a tiny moan, legs shaking hard. His hands latched on to König's arms as his eyes watered.

"There you go darling. Feel good?"

Roach nodded frantically and clenched around him. He tried to raise his hips a bit but it was useless against the grip on him.

"Relax. I want to show you how much I missed you."

Roach laid back with a whimper.

König started to thrust in again, panting softly. It felt perfect, being there with Roach. He put his forehead against Roach's and found his prostate. Roach moaned and flushed, looking surprised and a little embarrassed.

König smiled. "I love hearing you." He kissed across his face, getting to his jaw as he fucked into him. Every thrust hit Roach's prostate with a cruel precision and force, getting more noises out of Roach.

Nails scratched down his back as he did it. His whole world narrowed down to Roach and Roach only. They kissed and Roach shoved his tongue into his mouth. He tasted like a mix of coffee and mint from toothpaste, not the best of mixes but König couldn't imagine pulling away. Roach mapped out his mouth as if he didn't already know it so well.

"Fuck..." Roach mumbled against him, pulling away to catch his breath. "Please..." His voice was hoarse from him never using it, but König took the words immediately. He shoved them into his memories so he could replay them over and over again.

König readjusted his grip and put Roach's ankles right next to his head. He knew Roach was plenty flexible but he still checked for any sign of discomfort before plunging right back into him.

"Perfect. Feel... Scheiße." Warm and tight and thanks to the lube so slick. He started to fuck him harder and with little abandon, wanting to remind Roach that he shouldn't be gone so long. If he couldn't walk tomorrow, it just meant König had an excuse to keep him in bed with him.

Roach moaned and threw his head back, cock leaking between them. He tried to pull one of König's hands to it but he just pinned his hands down next to his ankles. He sank his teeth into Roach's shoulder, abusing his prostate until Roach's back arched and he was coming across their chests. Instead of stopping, he just changed the angle, continuing to fuck him until he came in him, letting Roach's body take all of it.

"Don't pull out."

König nodded immediately, having had no plans to anyway. He let go of Roach and moved him around to a more comfortable position before laying on him, weight on his knees so Roach wouldn't be squished.

"Didn't hurt you did I?"

Roach shook his head and kissed him softly. König could already tell the brief amount of talking he sometimes got in bed was over. It wasn't a problem for him, most people didn't even get that. He was the only one that heard Roach's voice. Knew what his accent sounded like. A possessive part of him was just fine with that.

"Good. Once you've caught your breath, we'll take a shower. Then will come back to bed and we'll have more sex."

Roach's shoulders shook with laughter and he started to braid some of König's hair.

"I really did miss you. Was worried."

Roach kissed his fingers gently.

[tinkabelle24]

To Build a Home

Chapter 27: Hammer to Fall

A/N: To those not following me on AO3, I apologise for the late post; I haven't been active on Tumblr for a hot minute.

T/W! No trigger warnings.

Masterlist | Chapter 26

--------------------------------

(Two weeks later...)

Val sighed dejectedly at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying in vain to hide her exhaustion beneath a generous layer of concealer and foundation - and her despair behind a smile.

Two weeks.

Two weeks, and not a word from him. From her... what the hell was he to her, these days? Sure, they agreed to take a beat, but... nothing? For two weeks??

As if his avoidance wasn't obvious (or painful) enough, she'd been finding items in places she knew for a fact she'd not left them, prior to her graveyard shifts; plants watered, and Maggie strangely not a stage five cling-on after supposedly spending twelve-odd hours alone.

She'd already asked Donnie and Mikey about it; neither had visited since they checked in on her that night, right after everything went to hell. Leo, he... They informed her he'd fled, holed himself up in the farmhouse. As far as she knew, he was still there; likely scrounging honey from the bears now, given how little food he'd reportedly left with.

So, unless she had another roommate she was unaware of...

The chime of an incoming text drew Val's attention to her phone, resting screen-up near the basin's edge. Her heart sank at the sender ID: Molly.

[See you soon? Xx]

It appeared all her closest relationships were fractured that fateful weekend.

She regretted the piss-poor way she'd handled things with her best friend, castigating then kicking her out of the apartment. She'd hoped that with some time and distance, her anger would eventually subside - it hadn't.

Being essentially accused of something as deplorable as cheating... No matter how hard she tried – pushing it down, sweating it out, screaming it into the void – she simply couldn't let it go...

Tonight, Val was to go out on the town with the girls – a birthday do-over, they insisted on calling it. She'd honestly rather continue being a hermit, but that was neither healthy nor practical. Moreover, she refused to keep avoiding everyone... unlike someone.

With a weary sigh, the brunette set down the compact then scooped up and unlocked her phone. Her eyes flicked over days' old, unanswered texts to him and to her little sister, before finally opening Mol's.

It took all her strength not to hit 'send' on her initial, fractious "Yep".

[Yeah, just finishing up. Be there in 20.]

Mol's reply came almost immediately, startling Val as she was gussying her bangs.

[Okay. April's running late, so we can squeeze in a few more pre-drinks xx]

Oh, joy. Alone time...

With another sigh, Val shrugged on her denim jacket, slung over her purse, and snatched up her keys. She trudged into the main room, where a familiar, soft body brushed up against her legs.

"Alrighty, little miss," she muttered, crouching down to give the purring feline a scratch behind the ears. Her indignant gaze fell upon the fire escape window.

"I'll see you later, okay? Say hi to daddy for me..."

---

"Ayyy, Val!" Andrew's booming voice flooded the hallway as he flung open the apartment door. "Long time, no see-"

"Hey, Andy, how's it goin'-"

Val's throat tightened as her friend tugged her into a hug, lightly thumping her back before stepping away. His taut smile betrayed his worry as he carefully scanned her face.

"Yeah, not too bad. Work's been keepin' me outta trouble... mostly, heh... Come in, come in. Mol's still gettin' her gear on."

Val kept her gaze low as she silently followed Andrew inside. While he closed the door, she took a quick glance about the living area and connected kitchen. Mol was nowhere to be seen-

"Just a minute!" Came a slightly panicked, feminine voice from across the room, beyond the master bedroom door; followed by the emergence of a sheepish looking face.

Pressure mounting in her already tormented stomach, Val forced herself to smile. Though she still couldn't bear to look the woman directly in the eyes. It seemed the struggle was mutual.

After ducking back inside for a moment, Mol finally stepped out, hurriedly clicking the door closed behind her. Her entire outfit, save for the blood red lip, boasted her signature black.

"Hey," she greeted with an awkward smile; Val gave a tight nod in response. They exchanged a brief, one-armed hug (Val's grip being about as limp as a dead fish), before parting, staring everywhere but at each other.

Val could still feel Andrew's concern boring into her head.

"Well," he finally cleared his throat, slicing through the silence. The women turned to him as he proceeded toward the guest bedroom, smirking pointedly at Val. "I'll be lovin' ya and leavin' ya, ladies. I've got a date with a certain red-headed medic-"

The brunette perked up slightly. "Oh, Shani? So, you're finally at Hearts of Stone, then?"

Andrew snorted. "Whaddaya mean, 'finally'? The main game's like fifty hours long-"

"Well, I mean, Raph and I did start after..."

Val abruptly fell silent, the sound of his name leaving her lips having thrust her heart into her throat. Her friends watched as she cycled through a whirlwind of emotions - sadness, anger, resignation - before quietly continuing.

"I-it's a fun quest - you're gonna love it. But prepare yourself for a completely different Geralt. He's... well, you'll see."

"Oh, I will," Andrew mused with a doleful smile, squeezing Mol's mesh-clad shoulder as he continued forward. "Have fun, you two. Don't do anythin' I wouldn't do!"

Mol scoffed weakly. "You could raise your standards a little-"

"Oh, ho-ho-ho," Andrew chuckled, pointing at her with mock indignation. "You'll be regrettin' that later-"

"Alright, alright-" she cut in, catching Val's discomfort. "Go on. Off you go - scarper!"

With Andrew now tucked away, Mol turned to her best friend with a nervous smile and motioned for them to sit.

"So," she began, easing herself onto one of the two stools by the breakfast counter. Val followed suit, shifting her seat so their knees would not touch.

Ouch.

"H-how have you been...?"

A ridiculous question, but Mol could no longer stand the tension between them. And it was clear they had more to talk about; more she had yet to disclose...

Val shrugged helplessly, shaking her head. Mol's frown deepened. It was also clear her friend wasn't about to free her frustrations willingly - nothing new.

"I-I... I don't know what you-"

"Just talk to me," Mol entreated. "I want you to tell me the truth, no matter how badly you think it'd hurt me. I know you want to, Val; I can see it on your face. I can handle it, okay? Just get it out – all of it. Please..."

Val took a long, shaky breath. "I'm still angry," she finally admitted, voice trembling as she wrung her hands together. "I'm angry that you'd even think I'd do something like that. I'm angry I lost a friend cos he wouldn't back the fuck off... I'm angry that R-Raph's been avoiding me like the plague, but thinks it's totally okay to keep swingin' by my apartment when I'm not there... But, mostly I'm angry at myself, cos... cos all of this could've been avoided if I'd just opened my damn mouth. A-fucking-gain, ignoring to my gut in fear of losing something..."

She turned to Mol then, tears welling in her eyes. "D-did you know what he was gonna do?" She whispered.

Mol's expression shifted to one of regret. "I… I need to talk to you about that."

---

Mol broke the news as delicately as she could, but she knew it wouldn't have made a difference – it was going to hurt either way.

“Y-you’re…” Her friend blinked at her, face draining of colour as though she had just seen a ghost. “…engaged?”

"Y-yeah,” Mol murmured, nodding. “Yeah, we are. I don’t have the... t-the ring on me right now, cos, well…”

“W-when…?”

“The, uh… the Saturday before your birthday weekend.”

Val failed to respond; she simply stared into nothingness, chest rising and falling with increasing rapidity. Mol’s anxiety skyrocketed.

“I never meant to keep this from you,” she rushed to explain. “It was supposed to be a surprise for when you got back. But when we found out what happened, I… I couldn’t spring that on you-”

Val finally met her gaze. “Does he know about this?” She asked, her tone apparently sharper than intended as she quickly averted her gaze.

Mol nodded again. “…Yeah-”

Suddenly, Val stood, jerking away from Mol when she reached for her. “I’m fine. I just…” After seemingly talking herself down from turning tail and fleeing, the brunette tearfully pivoted back to her.

“I’m happy for you, Mol,” she insisted. “I really am. But, u-um…”

“I know,” Mol reassured, rising to her feet also. She didn't dare try touching her again. “I know things have been rough for you lately-”

“But that doesn’t mean...” Tossing her head back, Val groaned in frustration. “I-I… I want you to feel you can tell me anything – anytime! What the hell kinda best friend would I be if I made you walk on eggshells ‘round me-”

“And what the hell kind of best friend would I be if I dropped news like that right after everything that happened-”

“Mol, this is massive and I missed it-”

“You’ve missed nothing-”

“Molly-” Val interrupted, voice firm and commanding as she stared her startled friend dead in the eyes. “Shuddup, and show me the goddamn ring.”

Gazing down at the beautiful black onyx band now adorning Mol's finger, all the resentment Val had been harbouring between them promptly melted away. Unfortunately, the joy was short-lived...

"Oh, Val-" Mol pulled her friend close, squeezing her tightly as she proceeded sobbing into her shoulder. "It's okay. Get it all out. That's it-"

"I'm s-sorry-"

"Girl, stop it," Mol scolded gently, tilting her head back and calming her breaths in an effort to stave off her own tears. Catching a concerned Andrew peeking through the door, she turned him away with a reassuring wave. "You've nothing to be sorry for. I promise."

"What the hell am I s'posed to do, Mol? He won't talk to me-"

"Well, he needs to," Mol muttered in exasperation. "If he wants to fix this, then he's gonna have to pull his goddamn head in. This shit's gone on long enough..."

As Val's tears dried and the tension in her body eased, an overwhelming wave of clarity swept over her. If Raph wasn't prepared to meet her halfway, then she was going to have to confront him directly.

Birthday do-over was gonna have to wait a little longer.

---

After dusting his hands with chalk and smacking off the excess, Raph silently positioned himself behind the 300-pound deadlift bar once more. The nerves of his old injury were screaming bloody murder, but it paled in comparison to the crushing weight on his heart...

Two weeks ago, he was happy - quietly planning the rest of his life with the woman he loved more than life itself.

He'd perfected that pivotal moment in his mind; reaching over the intricately set dinner table to take her hands into his, then finally asking her to be his - forever. Then pray to whatever diety hangin' out up there in the sky that the ring actually fit her tiny-ass finger...

...Then everything went to shit.

A strained, almost desperate grunt escaped the terrapin's lips as he hefted the bar, unnecessarily enduring the searing pain now radiating through his arm, before dropping the bar to the mat with a heavy thud.

He recovered nary a moment before attempting again.

Twice now - twice, his dear older brother had stood between him and his future, and she'd shown her belly both damn times.

He could always tell when she was bullshitting; she could never keep still nor look him in the eyes while doing so. So, when she sat there, stone-faced and unflinching, swearing nothing untoward was going on between them, he believed her. But he was never able to shake the feeling that their own story was nonetheless coming to an end...

After several more, excruciating reps, Raph finally replaced the bar; relenting only due to his offended arm now refusing to co-operate. Snatching up his towel and water bottle, the terrapin finally trudged out into the common area, avoiding the prying gazes of his younger brothers as he beelined for the bathroom to shower... and cry.

---

("R.I.P." by Mikky Ekko)

He found her in his room, perched on the edge of their bed; face flushed and swollen from crying, trembling like a leaf.

He couldn't say he was surprised to see her - he'd left her hanging, after all. His lack of any kind of reaction, however, was rather disconcerting.

Val's wide, intense gaze never wavered as she shakily rose to her feet, purse clutched firmly against her chest. Raph, conversely, kept his eyes down, keeping to the relative safety of the doorway.

"Are we gonna talk about this, at some point?" She asked, voice strained as though she were wrestling with each word. "O-or are you just gonna keep sneakin' around, like some... creep?"

That struck a nerve. "Oh, you wanna talk about 'creeps'?" Raph sneered.

Val blinked, letting the implication about Leo sink in, before finally narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yeah, actually, I do," she shot back, tossing the purse aside and jabbing a finger in his direction. "I wanna talk about why you've been ignorin' me, while still thinkin' you have any right to be in my goddamn apartment!"

Raph promptly tore away his gaze, huffing in exasperation. She had him there - he had no excuse.

"Look," Val sighed. "I understand that you need space, okay? I get it. But if you're gonna take it, then take it! You aren't doin' us any favours by comin' and goin' as you please. It's been two weeks, Raph - two weeks. I am not leaving this room until you give me a straight answer. Do you want me..."

Her voice faltered as tears welled in her eyes, tightening the grip on Raph's already tortured heart. "...Or n-not?"

Absolutely - of course he did! More than anything, he wanted her... But he was also tired. So incredibly tired of all the indecision, miscommunication and drama. Last he checked, a relationship was supposed to be between two people. So, why the hell did his brother hold so much sway over them - over her? Why the hell didn't she check him harder, when he pushed?

And more than that, why the hell were they dealing with this bullshit to begin with?

He always suspected his brother had a bad case of FOMO. Well, you win, Leo...

...You win.

"I... can't."

Raph could pinpoint the exact moment those words ripped Val's heart in two.

She swallowed hard, swiping at the tears now trickling down her cheeks. Unable to bear the scene unfolding before him, Raph turned away once more.

"O-okay," Val finally sniffled. He could no longer see her face, yet he still felt her scrutiny. "Okay, so... so, when were you planning on telling me this, exactly? If I hadn't come here tonight, how long were you gonna keep me in the dark...?"

At his lack of a response, she snapped. "Answer me!"

"I dunno whatchu want me to say, Valerie," Raph muttered, shaking his head as he shrugged. "You already know how I feel. I'm done. I've had enough. I don't wanna be the third wheel in this relationship anymore. Clearly, his feelings matter more to you than mine-"

Val gawked at him, incredulous. "That's not true-"

"Oh, it's not??" Raph cut in, finally locking eyes with her. "Every fight we've ever had has been about him. Every. Single. Fight. Cos you, for reasons I've never been able to fuckin' comprehend, can't seem to pull your big girl pants on and put this asshole in his place!"

That hurt her- it was meant to. Though liberating in the moment, the aftermath graced Raph with a violent jolt, akin to being slapped awake. Suddenly, the emotions he feared he'd lost earlier came surging back, crashing into him all at once. "Val, I'm... I'm sorry-"

She recoiled as he stepped forward, hands shooting up between them.

A deafening silence enveloped them then, amplifying Raph's torment as he grappled with the urge to snatch her into his arms, to kiss the pain away. But he knew all it would accomplish was a slap in the face, then a prompt exit from his life forever - if the latter wasn't already happening...

"I think..." Val murmured at last, flaggingly lifting her gaze to meet his. Raph's heart sank. Her big, beautiful, brown eyes, once so full of determination, now looked empty. What she said next drove the final nail into their coffin:

"I think I'm done, too."

--------------------------------

@lydjachan

If anyone would like to be tagged in this story, please let me know ❤️

[o-kaythislooksbad]

ailesswhumptober day 10: self-worth issues / pushing away a loved one / "you don't need to earn this"

chapter 3 / 7 of i miss the way that i felt (nothing) | not rated, chose not to warn

"again!" the ringmaster's booming voice filled the tent. he didn't need to shout so loudly, not with the performers each sitting within a meter of him, but the ringmaster insisted on always making his presence and his role known to everyone. 

dick sighed as he straightened up, rolled his shoulders, and ascended the ladder to his platform. his parents remained on the ground, talking with the ringmaster; the combination of his sonorous voice and dick's above-average hearing ability made it easy for him to follow along.

"i tolerated it when he was little," the large man said, "when he could fit in the strongman's palm or stuck in the bearded lady's shirt where her breasts should be. he was a good prop before he could walk, but now…" he paused to point at the ladder. "we don't have much use for him."

"are you serious?"

"mary, please, the men are talking."

"john," mom's voice hardened, "you take his side, and you're sharing the lion's cage tonight." 

the ringmaster held up a hand to cover dad's mouth. "the flying graysons work as a duo, and the crowds love when you add in something to juggle while you work the trapeze, gives 'em more things to cheer for and gawk at when they don't shatter to the ground, but the kid - look, simply put, you've got what it takes to be here, and he don't."

dick remained on his perch, his eyes glued to the clowns on the opposite side of the tent and not on the net beneath him. 

the net, as well as the angry ringmaster, was all dick's fault. he's right, the flying graysons are a well-oiled machine of two, and a baby only mucks up the gears. the flying graysons are fearless, proud of their act and the distinct lack of safety measures in place, but dick is nothing but a frightened little kid. 

he practiced day and night, pushing his little body to its limit, and all of his hard work eventually paid off. dick even made it to the promo posters for the entire circus, not just the flyers of the flying graysons, and their family's success landed haly's circus a gig in gotham city.

"you better not be gettin' cold feet, kid," the human cannonball muttered. "we can't have you fuckin' this up for us."

mom pushed him away from dick before he could cause any more damage. "there's no point in telling you that this is the biggest show of the year," she said with her arms around his shoulders. "we all know that already. you're more than ready for this, aren't you, my little robin?"

"yes," dick mumbled in response, slowly believing it. mom never lied, and if she said he was ready, then he would be. 

dick had been so worried about the potential of hitting the ground, of losing his grip and making a mockery out of everyone, that he never considered the trapeze and ropes themselves to be a problem. he was so focused on the tightly packed dirt on the ground and the distance his legs would travel to hit it, if he couldn't hook his legs properly, that the possibility of anything else going wrong in the air never crossed his mind.

"again!" the bat's deep voice echoed off the cave's walls. he didn't need to raise his voice, not with the ways the rock formations provided natural amplification, but the batman insisted on always making his presence and his role known to anyone who may be lurking in the shadows. 

dick sighed as he stood up from his crouch. he did a few toe raises and stretched his arms before returning to the start of the obstacle course. it would be pointless to protest that he already ran the damn thing four times and only got hit once, because one mistake was enough to destroy everything. 

the thought caught him off guard, causing dick to stumble before he made it past the first set of knives - why anyone would need to learn how to dodge multiple sets of knives in between stopping carjackers, dick would never know - and fall face-first into the edge of a tractor tire. 

"again! back to the start, rob-"

"sir, if i may be so bold," alfred's sharp voice interrupted the bat's. 

dick held his breath, frozen in place. had he been so distracted that he didn't notice alfred's arrival? rule number one of living with batman was that the cave belonged to the bat, while the rest of the grounds belonged to bruce and were maintained by alfred. the butler who wore a thousand hats had sighed deeply upon his master returning from the circus with a child in tow, set down a firm boundary that while the young master may be, as an extension of bruce, alfred's charge in the manor, what the bat chose to do with the fledgling was his own business. alfred in the batcave was a bad sign; alfred speaking over batman in the batcave could only mean one thing.

"please," dick whispered. "i'll do better, i'll be better, i promise." 

alfred's sharp steps quickly crossed the room, but dick didn't dare to look up. he could handle being berated and dismissed by the bat or by bruce - neither of them, despite saying they wanted him, seemed to know how to translate those desires into concrete actions - but not by the butler. alfred never wasted his words and was much too kind to sugarcoat anything, and dick would absolutely break if the man calmly kicked him out with the same tone he would use to inform him of the night's dinner menu.  

"up you get, master richard," alfred said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "you have spent rather too much time in this musty room."

there was no way dick could accept alfred's hand, not with the motor oil and sweat sticking to his fingers. there was no way dick could accept alfred's words, not with the way batman's glare burned the back of his head. 

"master bruce is not foolish enough to try challenging me." alfred's confidence, unlike bruce's, genuinely affected dick. physically, bruce had the advantage, but alfred's words rang true; the younger man wouldn't dare raise a hand or his voice against his adoptive father. "you may not realize it, but the two of you missed supper as well as lunch, and that is unacceptable."

that night, tucked into a bed much too large for him, after a bath in an equally large tub, dick replayed the day's events in his mind over and over again. he had to know where he'd misstepped - literally, during the training course, as well as socially, cutting in between alfred and bruce's tense relationship - and where to course-correct. he couldn't afford to make yet another mistake without another safety net beneath him. 

"all right, take fifteen!" dick's steady voice fills the main gym. he has no need to yell, not when the kids are all within earshot, but he's always mindful of the ways his tone may be interpreted. he lets himself smile and let out a small sigh of relief at the way the kids enthusiastically remove their boxing gloves without complaint, already turning the conversation towards whether they should have a video game competition or movie night after training. 

"we'd better go with them," kory says, nudging dick, "before fifteen minutes turns into thirty and they're glued to the couches."

"would that be so bad?" dick surprises himself, turning to press himself closer to kory. "let them have their fun; they've certainly earned it."

kory's eyes sparkle. "and we can make our own fun here. you don't need to earn this," she whispers into his ear.

[flower-of-zaun]

CAPTIVATED

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

Silco x Fem!Reader A young woman named Xylia, rises from the depths of The Sump, ready to take down the source of shimmer and liberate Zaun. Her plans go awry and is captured by Silco. Her life is now in his hands, constantly controlled, living a life of servitude.

Will she escape the mighty Eye of Zaun?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT TRIGGER WARNING: Death, violence, dark themes

This is a rewrite of a story I started last year. Enjoy. AO3 Link

Chapter 1: Bottom of The Pit

“Where the Sump Rats gather, trouble tends to stir.”

That is what my mother used to say before I would go outside into The Lanes to play. She forbade me to go into the lower levels. She tried so hard for me to make friends in the upper levels, even getting me into a pristine school in Piltover. Too bad top-sider’s can smell a rat dressed in cheap clothing. I could never fit in up there, but the people of the fissures, they never judged. Mother tried her best to keep me from the darkest parts of the under-city, but that was all in vain. Once the Lung Blight took her from me, I lost everything.

Just another young Sump Rat, left on her own within the darkest levels of the city and her psyche.

“Where the Sump Rats gather…” I huff as I pull up my mask and adjust my burlap tote on my shoulder.

The fumes coming from the pump station were especially strong tonight; they were in overdrive. The tinny scraping of the large mechanical arms echoed through the fissures. The constant hum of the machines usually kept me awake all night, but tonight it brought me comfort; it would drown out the voices of resentment and keep our plans of rebellion to ourselves.

In this area the only audible thing other than the grinding of the fissure gears was the light splatter of my boots on the damp cobblestone. The green haze that generally lingered was thick and low and just walking through the fog made my clothes damp from the mist. It kept people inside where they could stay warm and away from the worst of the exhaust.

A perfect night to execute our plan.

I made my way to my apartment, walking just faster than I normally would. I fought to keep my breath even, but my heart still beat rapidly in my chest and paranoia crept up the back of my neck the closer I got to my front door.

With a quick turn of my key I swiftly step past the threshold and slam the door closed. I rest my back against it and drop my chin to my chest, taking in one long deep breath. As I exhale, the ringing in my ears fades and the grinding of the fissure machines fill my small home once again.

The gathering is soon.

The last before we finally take action.

I pace from wall to wall, clearing personal items to free up chairs and crates for seats. There were about twenty in our team, each of them sick of Shimmer and how it was affecting everything in the under-city. The drug was flooding the streets like plague, ripping apart the delicate ecosystem of the fissures and its people. We had to survive down here. All of the people had looked out for one another, but now the fight for another glowing purple vial seemed to be more important than the fight for your neighbor.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Something had to be done.

A sudden knock made me jump. With a quick glance over the room, I approach the door to let in my first visitor. I looked through the peephole to see a familiar figure standing in the hallway. I rushed to let them in. 

“Ryot! You’re actually on time for once,” I giggle and pull the man in for a hug.

“Wouldn’t miss this for anythin’, Xylia,” he says as he pulls down his mask, “I wanted to get here early, just incase I needed to save ya from gettin’ cold feet,” he grins as he tilts his head forward slightly.

“No need for all that,” I sigh as I push his forehead causing him to smile and stand at full height, “I’m ready, dude,” I reassure him. “Let’s just review the game plan, make sure this is fool-proof.”

I knew I could count on Ryot; he has been there since the beginning. He grew up in The Sump and when it became my permanent home, he was the first one to take me under his wing. He taught me how to fight, to scavenge, to survive in the fissures. He was a long lost brother, gifted to me when I had nothing left, and I was grateful he had my back.

Ryot was also fed up with the Shimmer situation. The both of us had spoken about saving up and getting out of the fissures, climbing to The Lanes, but the drug was working its way up anyway. It was just as bad above us, and that's when we both decided; instead of running away, we would fight the problem at its source.

We would go after The Eye of Zaun. 

Walking into the lion’s den seemed like a deathwish, but we had carefully planned the attack. Months of following leads, sleepless nights of reconnaissance work, just to track down The Eye.

The man was an industrialist named Silco. He had been in power since I was a child. He fed the people of the under-city false hopes of being liberated from Piltover while simultaneously crippling them with a steady stream of Shimmer. If we take him out, the empire he built will topple. It seemed so simple, one person’s life to liberate a nation, but that was just talk. Liberating Zaun would take dedication and cunning.

Ryot had lost himself in the blue prints that were scattered across the table.

I could tell he was worried, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he nervously toyed with one of his long locs.

His golden eyes scan the documents, them flickering as he takes in every last detail, talking under his breath as he scribbles notes.

Sitting beside my brother, I put a hand on his shoulder before working to sort out the last of our plans before the others were to arrive.

It didn’t take long until each member of our team was present and there was a low humming of conversation. I step onto my table and suddenly the conversation goes silent and all eyes are on me.

“Tonight we gather to save our people.” I pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. I falter a moment before noticing Ryot close beside me, looking up at me with an encouraging smile before giving me a single nod. With a deep breath I continue, “Shimmer has become an epidemic, ravaging our city and I am tired of Piltover turning a blind eye. Refusing to help us. Instead, we shall be the ones to save our once great nation. Tonight we strike The Eye of Zaun down from his seat of power!”

As the entire room cheers Ryot helps me down from the table and a few people come and embrace me. 

“Why should we follow you on this fuckin’ suicide mission, aye?” The moment was cut short once another voice from the back of the room cut through the celebration.

“Excuse me?” Ryot turns toward the source of the voice.

“You heard me,” the voice comes again. It’s grovely, but familiar. The pale skinned half-elf pushes past the few at the back of the room and stops at the center. “I get what we are fightin’ for, but if we step foot in that place…” he says as his gaze moves from Ryot’s eyes to mine. “She’ll get us all killed.”

“Devexian,” Ryot says sternly, taking a single step toward him.

The room is silent as every face looks between the two men for their next move.

Devexian straightens his posture and looks down just slightly to Ryot who takes another step toward him.

“Do you remember when those carts of Shimmer would be hauled through our streets every day?” Ryot says calmly, taking another step toward Devexian. “Do you remember how people would crowd them everyday, waiting for one of His men to take pity on one of them and toss them a vial? Until somebody was fuckin’ dumb enough to try to take from them?” Ryot takes the final step to close the distance between the two men. His head is craned upward to make eye contact. 

“Do you remember how many people died that day, Devexian?”

Devexian’s adam’s apple bobs up and down with a loud gulp.

“Do you see those carts around anymore? Hm?” Ryot asks again, but before Devexian could answer Ryot chuckles. “Do you think they just left on their own?”

Devenxian’s silent as his glance shifts over Ryot’s shoulder to me.

“Ahhhh, yes,” Ryot sighs, “You got it,” he encourages before stepping to the side so he is no longer standing between me and Devexian.

“Xylia is why they are gone,” Ryot says in a flat tone, his playful smile gone. “She organized us. She rallied us together and made those Shimmer pushers too scared to use our streets,” he says as he returns to my side.

Devexian nods and looks down before taking a step back.

“My sister is not your enemy,” Ryot says toward him, but then looks around to address the room. “The slimey excuse of a human being that thinks himself big enough to call himself The fuckin’ Eye of Zaun. Is. Our. Enemy.”

The energy in the room spikes. Voices ring in agreement.

Ryot looks toward me with a smile.

“He’s right,” I say and step forward. “We have our target. And our plan. We will fight like we have every single day of our lives down here in the Sump,” I extend an encouraging look toward Devexian and he nods, “and we will win.”

***

The music could be heard outside of The Last Drop, the steady rumble of the bass thumped through the street. Standing beside the entrance, I basked in the glow of the green lights that illuminate the front of the building. I nervously tap my foot to the beat of the music, watching my people slowly enter the bar as I wait for Ryot to join me. He had stayed behind, claiming having to tie up some loose ends and make some last minute preparations, but he was taking longer than expected.

“Typical. He shows up early, but fuckin’ late when its time to get shit done.” I grumble, biting my lower lip as I flick the ashes from my cigarette before taking another long drag. As the minutes pass, my anxiety builds. We had a small window of time to attack and every single minute was indispensable.

During our reconnaissance missions we had noticed that over the past few weeks Silco had been on the move; never staying in one spot for too long. It seemed like he was planning something big, we just couldn’t figure out what it was. Shimmer shipments were moving steadily and our inside sources told us he had gotten the rights for a few more mines. That was normal, which made Silco’s off moves even more unsettling.

Looking down at my watch I let out a heavy sigh. Ryot needed to be here fifteen minutes ago. If we are any later, we have to pull our people out and who knows if they’ll even come back, or worse, Silco could be onto our plans and retaliate before we can regroup.

“Yo, Xy!” A familiar voice calls for me.

I could see the silhouette of Ryot in a nearby alleyway, his amber eyes almost glowing in the darkness. I drop my cigarette to the ground and step on it as I quickly walk up to him, already annoyed with his tardiness. “Where the fuck have you been Ry?!” I hissed.

“Like I said, last minute preps, dude.” He says with a grin, pulling a small device from his pocket.

“What’s that?” I ask while starting to reach for it, but he quickly pulls it away.

“Be careful!” He snaps, shaking his finger at me. “I spent the last few minutes rigging some explosives to the bar, just in case shit gets hairy. We’ll have an escape plan for our escape plan.”

My annoyance instantly melted away and I wrapped my arms around him, “You mean a plan B?”

“Yeah, plan B or whatever,” he giggles, playfully pushing me away. “Now c’mon, we don’t got much more time left.”

We both walk toward the entrance of the bar, “It’s now, or never,” I say brazenly.

“Now or never, sis.” Ryot chuckles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, ushering me inside.

Walking into The Last Drop, we were immediately surrounded by colored smoke; a thick haze that seems to be consuming the whole building. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The green neon lights illuminated the haze, making the patrons into shadow-like ghosts dancing around the bar.

Ryot breaks away, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze before he disappears into the fog.

I am still a moment, just watching his silhouette moving between the maze of tables before he finally lowers into a seat. Once I saw that he was in position I took a deep breath and made my way toward the bar. Taking a seat, I wave the bartender down. “Oi! Oi!” I try to yell over the music.

The bartender quickly glides toward me, throwing a hand towel over his shoulder as he says, “Wot can I get cha dearie?”

“Whiskey on the rocks, make it a double,” my voice strains as I try to talk over the music, “and open a tab!”

The man began making my drink. I watched him intently, trying to distract myself from the anxiety that was building in my stomach.

He placed the drink in front of me with a smile and began taking other drink orders from the people around me.

My heart pounds in my ears as I look down at the drink in my hand, the beat of my blood rushing through my veins nearly drowning out the music around me. I knew I had to act now or it would be too late. I took a deep breath as I leaned back against the bar, propping my elbows on the marble countertop. I needed to calm down. Anxiety meant impulsive choices and tonight we couldn’t afford any risks or mistakes. 

I was about to take a sip of my drink when something caught my eye; a slender man standing on the upper level of the bar. His eyes scan over the area below as he rests his forearms on the railing until his dual-colored gaze met my own. 

I froze.

Silco, the mighty Eye of Zaun, was looking at me. His fiery eye seemed to burn through my soul. 

Something told me to run; to call the whole thing off, gather everyone up, and bring them to safety. The tension in my body threatened to snap until that fear began to fade. The shaking in my bones calmed and a snarl creased harder on my face as a different feeling began to bubble to the surface.

Hate.

Hate for the man that caused me and my people so much pain. Even though we are already under the oppressive boot of Piltover, he still managed to profit off our suffering and make our lives even worse. I couldn’t back down now. The Eye of Zaun was here, everyone was in position, and we were ready to fight back. He cocked his head as he looked down at me with a curious grin. Anybody subject to his searing gaze would have turned away in fear by now, but I stood my ground.

I will not live in fear of him anymore.

Suddenly his glance shifts away and he straightens himself before stepping back into the shadows. With a smirk I quickly drink the glass of whiskey. I take a deep breath as its warmth runs down my arms and pools in the pit of my stomach before spreading throughout my body. I hold my drink for a moment, tapping my index finger against the glass, before suddenly slamming it on the ground. 

“FOR THE UNDERCITY!” I cry out across the bar. The glass explodes the instant it hits the floor. Conversation immediately stops as nearby patrons turn their attention toward the glass shards at my feet.

“Aye! The fuck ya think your doin’ ya brat?!” The bartender screams.

I reach for the dagger in my belt as I quickly turn on my heel toward the hot breath behind me. In an instant it lodges itself just between his eyes with a sickening crunch, sending the man crumbling to the ground like a rag doll.

Then suddenly, five more bodies drop, their necks cut from ear to ear by Ryot and a few others who had started their movement with the signal of the shattering glass. At that moment, time seemed to slow down. 

It was time to tear this place to the ground.

The room explodes into chaos and the two guards that were standing just inside the entrance come hurtling toward me at lightning speed, much faster than they should for how bulky they are. I raise my arms to brace for impact just before Ryot and Devexian collide with the two large men, bringing them to their knees before snapping their necks in one fluid motion.

In one fell swoop Ryot slips a dagger from his waist and tosses it in the air with a little flourish before catching it and extending his arm just as a woman steps close enough to be caught on his blade.

“Aahg!” the woman cries.

“Xylia! Find Silco!” Devexian commands as he raises an arm to block an incoming dagger. 

“We got it from here sis! Go!” Ryot barks and takes out his gun. He gives me a reassuring wink before shooting bullets into the other guards. 

I proudly smile at him before dashing into the crowd. Bodies and fists are crashing together as people flow through the exits, trying to escape the carnage. As I weave past fighters I duck into a corner near the bottom of a large stairway and turn back toward the destruction.

We are tearing through The Eye of Zaun’s army like paper. With each hit from the opponent, two of them drop. We came with blades and gunpowder and the amount of bodies on the floor proved how unprepared they were for our ambush. Everything is going according to plan. Now was the most crucial step of our plan, a piece that I trusted only with myself; the finishing blow to their leader to end this madness once and for all.

The guards that had been posted at the bottom of the stairs were now bleeding out in the middle of the bar. I take two steps upward, watching behind me to make sure I don’t catch the attention of anybody behind me. With stealth, I make it to the upper level of the bar where it was much darker, but luckily had less of the sickly green haze that made it difficult to see.

Still crouching, I take a moment to adjust to the dim lightning, allowing my irises to relax and further open to let in any and all bits of light. I felt like a predator on the hunt for its prey. With a slow breath in I dash to where I last saw the target, searching for any trace of him.

Searching the area I found a small hallway, barely shielded by thick curtains. Just as I step forward and cautiously bring my hand to the thick velvet…

BOOM

There is a loud blast that vibrates through my rib cage as I fight for balance while the building seems to sway.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I hiss as I stand from my crouch to turn around, clutching the railing as I look down into the green cloud of dust and debris. How did things go south so quickly? But I had just gotten up here? We had every guard on their ass! We had done everything right!

Pulling my pupils tight again, I focus on the shadows that push and pull the smoke until I recognize Ryot’s glowing golden eyes near the exit.

He looks terrified. Something was wrong, so very wrong.

I fought the urge to run to him as more of Silco’s fighters blocked their retreat.

Only one bomb had been triggered out of the supply Ryot had rigged, so he must still have confidence in the plan? Right?

My grip on the railing tightened as I watched what was left of my team pull back from the exit as Ryot led them to the other end of the bar, but Silco’s followers were close behind.

“They knew we were coming!” An unknown voice shrieked and my heart dropped into my stomach.

No. We had been so careful not to let things slip. Everyone was a long time friend or trusted acquaintance. There was no possible way they could have known we were coming.

Watching everyone try to run away, sent me into a panic. I needed to act fast. If I didn’t get to The Eye of Zaun now, he wouldn’t just send his men after us. He would spend the rest of his days hunting us down like common vermin until the threat was terminated.

Each of us knew the risks. We all understood that whatever happened in the bar was second only to the ultimate goal. For me to make it to Silco and kill him.

Silco would not triumph. We needed to stay in this fight.

With one last look I turn away from the railing, slipping my hands into the slit of the heavy curtains before darting down the hall while doing my best to keep my footsteps quick and nimble. The Eye was within my reach, the blueprint of The Last Drop almost overlapping my vision as I flit to the last door on the left.

I could finally bring this war to an end. 

This fight couldn’t be for nothing.

I stand before a dark wooden door, and for a moment I hesitate. I know whatever lies behind this door could either free everyone from the Eye’s oppressive grip on the Under City or kill me. I twist the door handle and the clicks open, the pale green light of the neons shining through the crack. I take a deep breath in before I take out my dagger and-

CRACK!

The feeling of metal hitting the back of my head, caused me to lurch forward, falling to my knees. My vision now hazy, so I turn to look at my attacker.

CRACK!

I do not get the chance, I am plunged into total blackness.

***

A bolt of white hot pain flashes across my chest, my eyes shoot open and I try to scream for Ryot, but all I can manage to do is let out a panicked whimper of pain. I look down to see my top stained red. I try to bring my hand to the cloth to check on the wound underneath, only to struggle against the rusted metal clamps restraining my forearms and the rope that kept my calves tight to the legs of the chair.

“Fuck!” I grunt as I try to pull my arms out of their confines, but even my slim hands can’t be pulled through the steel cylinder.  My eyes flash upward. I’m in a small room with a burning torch hung beside the large wooden door. The walls are a mix of stone and metal, dusty and dank. I pull my head as far as I can to my right in an attempt to look over my shoulder and behind me, but just as my chin meets my shoulder my right collar bone cracks. The scream that left my body shook my bones and echoed in the small cellar of a room. I drop my head, panting and trying to stay as still as I can as the fire of my movement dulls to a throbbing ache.

Suddenly the large wooden door swings open and hits the hall behind it, the speed of the movement almost blowing out the torch.

“You’re finally awake,” a deep and grainy voice says as it’s figure ducks under the door frame and lifts the torch from it’s casing on the stone.

“Fuck off!” I spit as far as I can, my loogy making it just in front of the man’s feet. “Where am I!?”

The man closes the door before turning back toward me, his wide gate allowing him to approach me in only two steps. With him closer and holding the torch I can now see his face. His skin is a pale blue and he’s covered in black geometric tattoos. He leans in closer, “The vermin wants to know where she is,” he chuckles and a lighter voice joins behind him.

I gasp and strain against my bindings as another figure comes into view. 

They had short dirty blonde hair that went every which way like they went at it with a pair of sheers and no mirror. Their face is dusty and as they approach the larger figure’s side they grin and show they are missing three of their top teeth. “Hello, Dear,” they grin as their eyes flash purple.

“Where am I!?” I demand again, and try again to pull my arms free only to bruise my wrists even further.

“Yonn, the light,” the smaller figure gestures and the one called Yonn steps closer, holding the torch over my head. I try to look up, but my collar bone screams again. I pant as I continue to pull against the clamps as the blonde reaches into their coat.

“You will refer to me as Nastoen,” they say as they slowly pull out a crystal tagger, the length continuing and continuing almost impossibly long for where they kept it until they swiftly adjust their grip to direct it’s tip at my face.

“What the fuck is going on?” I snap.

“It seems there was an attempt on the Eye of Zaun’s life,” they say as they turn away to pace slightly. 

I remain quiet, hoping they would give me more information.

“I’ve been asked, due to my… skills,” Nastoen flicks the dagger easily in their fingers, “to acquire information from you-”

I spit again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nastoen smiles as they move their blade to deflect my projectile with no effort. Their crystal blade glows like a fiery opal where my saliva touched it. It sizzles slightly as the moisture burns away. Then in one smooth moment they were back in front of me, the tip of their dagger an inch from my neck. “You will tell me who was involved in this failed coup,” the blade moves closer.

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

Nastoen grins and gently slides the edge of the crystal against my neck, the gem glowing as it meets my skin. I cry out, as I feel the strange blade heat up against my skin. Struggling against the chair to try to move away, but my head just hits against the back of the chair as it feels like my throat is being torn apart by molten glass. They pull their blade away and I gasp as I look down, expecting to see my blood pouring onto my lap, but there was none.

“Interesting thing, this crystal,” Nastoen says as they carefully examine the length of the dagger, careful to keep their hand on the stone grip. “Shimmer isn’t the only thing they cultivate in those mines,” they say as they point the top of their tagger at my hand. “There’s a natural crystal down there that when soaked in shimmer, has some interesting properties,” they bite their bottom lip as they rest the tip of the blade on my hand.

I cry out, cursing loudly as opalescent sparks fly from my skin and when they pull away, all that is left is a cauterized gash in my skin. For a moment, I feel like I am going to pass out again, but the blade is suddenly at my cheek and I can feel my skin starting to bubble. “The wounds tend to heal quickly, but I’ve been told the burn,” they say as they push the blade just slightly deeper into my cheek, “is the worst pain one can experience.”

I scream again as Nastoen pushes deeper into my face, making my teeth feel as if they are going to pop out of my skull, before he pulls back again. My head falls forward causing another crack to come from my collar bone, but even now that pain is dwarfed compared to what I had just experienced. “The blade…” I croak.

Nastoen adjusts their shoulders and smirks. “The Sump Rat has something to say?”

“The blade does all the work,” I sigh with a smug smile, I will not let him break me, “You have no skill.”

The last thing I remember is the way their face pulled into a grimace and then the indescribable burn of the blade before everything went black. Each time I came to there were more burns on my hands and arms. I was thrown more questions that I did not answer.

Then darkness, again.

I don’t know how long I was out between each interrogation, but each time my eyes fluttered open the dagger flew to a new portion of my exposed skin until Nastoen started cutting through my clothes to reach the untouched flesh underneath.

“Tell me! Who sent you!!” Nastoen shouts.

So much time had passed that even the torch Yonn still held above me less of a flame and more of a stake that burned like almost dead coal after a fire. I fought to lift my head. I lost count of how many times the crystal blade was held to my skin and how many time’s the world had gone black because of it.

“You know, you really suck at talking to women.” I say through nearly gritted teeth, the pain of talking is almost too much to bear.

“You smart mouthed brat! If you don’t want to talk I’ll just-” Nastoen’s nostrils flared as they lifted their dagger into the air.

I wince, preparing for the searing burn of the blade to cause me to fade away again.

“That’s enough.”

I opened my eyes to see Nastoen still standing with their arm held high, panting as they looked down at me with wild eyes. They slowly lower their arm, never losing their grip of their dagger, prepared to maim in an instant.

The dim light from the torch moved as Yonn left my side and moved away with Nastoen.

“You are quite the survivor,” the voice speaks again as he takes a step closer to me. “Amazing you still haven’t spilled any of your secrets.”

With Yonn’s torch now behind the figure, all I could see was the slim silhouette of a man approaching me. “There are no secrets to tell.” I groan, my throat burning from the deep wound across the middle of my neck.

“That is just fine, darling. Those friends of yours didn’t put up nearly as much of a fight.”

“Don’t you dare touch them!” I growl.

“There’s just a bit more information I am seeking, and I think you can help me.”

“Fuck you.” I seeth.

“Ah, I think you may change your mind. See, I have something that Nastoen here does not. Much more persuasive than a charming little dagger,” the shadow says playfully.

Suddenly a figure is thrown to the floor beside the man; the shadow coughs.

My blood instantly runs cold, it’s Ryot.

“Xy- don’t tell ‘em anyth-” Ryot starts until Yonn’s boot comes down on his back.

Tears well in my eyes as I look back toward the figure. “Who are you?” I demand.

There’s a low chuckle and a small movement before a light that is glowing purple, is pulled from the man’s coat. Suddenly his body is illuminated by the vial of shimmer and my breath catches in my throat as I see him lifting the vial,  a soft, purple glow revealing his scarred face and corrupted eye.

Silco.

I gasp, but before I can speak, the sound of another person being dragged into the small room catches my attention. “Please, please just let us go-” Devexian cries as his body hits the floor.

I fight to hold back the tears, but they suddenly fall down my cheeks. They are all alive, they somehow lived through whatever happened at the bar. I was relieved to see them unharmed, but I knew that would not last long if I didn’t act fast. “It was me!” I yell, a jolt of pain surging through me when I do, “All me!” I cough, trying to keep my voice strong.

Two more large men enter the room with lit torches and toss another body onto the ground, and another. They were piling my friends on top of each other and I blinked through my tears as I scanned over their bodies for any sign of movement. Some of their hands twitched and some of them groaned, but half of them didn’t move at all.

“Please! I talked them into it! I- I told them I’d pay them if they helped me fight,” I lied, trying to keep my voice as even as I can.

“Xylia-don’t do this.” Ryot mumbles from the floor.

I quickly cut him off, “Please let them go. Please,” I pull at my restraints again, but they still don’t budge.

Silco’s posture straightens before he tosses the vial of shimmer to Yonn, I could hear him chuckle, “Good riddance.” before leaving the room with Nastoen. 

I watch as Silco steps over a limp body toward Devexian. Tears stream down my cheeks as I flex against my bindings over and over with no success in breaking them. He grabs the hair at the back of his head and yanks backward, craning it back to expose his neck. “I can't have people who are so easily swayed toward violence with just a bit of coin, running in the streets,” Silco says as he reaches into his coat again, but this time pulling out a dagger.

“We can come to an agreement! Stop!” I cry, my eyes flashing between the dagger at Devexian’s neck and Ryot, nearly lifeless on the floor next to him.

Devexian weakly brings a hand to Silco’s.

“A band of assassins isn't safe for Zaun,” he says calmly as he effortlessly drags the blade through Devexian’s neck.

“No!” I scream, watching his blood pour into the stone floor.

Silco keeps his grip on Devexian’s hair for a moment, watching as his blood pumps onto the ground with the last few beats of his heart, before dropping him back into the pool of thick crimson. He steps over his body and kneels beside Ryot, doing the same; yanking his hair to crane his head back to expose his neck.

“It was me! It was me! It was all me!” I sob.

Ryot’s golden eyes meet mine.

“I paid them off! I talked them into it!”

“The city is safer this way,” Silco says, dragging his dagger through Ryot’s throat.

The glowing ember of Ryot’s eyes fades to a dull yellow.

“You fucking monster!” I scream as I watch the growing puddle of blood under Ryot’s body.

Silco stands, wipes his blade on a handkerchief, and pockets his dagger. “Kill the rest,” he demands, cold and emotionless.

He walks out of the room as his henchmen reveal their own daggers and knives, walking to each body, even those already dead, pulling their blades through flesh over and over again until the smell of iron fills the small room.

“Stop!” I beg, choking on my tears, “Please! Stop!”

With blood still dripping from their knife, one of the large men steps toward me, leaning in close enough that their musty breath fans over my face as they chuckle.

I throw my head toward his, the crack of his skull echoes, calling attention to the other henchmen as they kick the bodies of my crew to the walls and off of the main floor.

Just as their eyes meet mine I pull my arm once more and with a final crunch of my wrist, my arm is free.

In the instant they start stomping toward me I reach for the knife that had clattered to the floor and cut my legs free. I stand and spin, swinging the wooden chair into the closest body coming for me. They crumple to the ground as the chair breaks into pieces, leaving the metal cuff on my forearm, but overall, I am free.

I refuse to die without a fight.

Three of Silco’s men stand before me, readying themselves for me to strike. 

My body aches as I step before them, muscles weighed down by grief and fear. I look down at my boots leaving prints in the layer of blood that had flooded over the stone. Then, the blood fades away. The bodies fade away. I see red as I lift the knife in front of me. The first guard smirks and as they lunge toward me, I easily duck below the swipe of their massive arm, before lodging the knife into their thigh and pulling with all of my strength causing the blade to slice through their femoral artery. They are brought to their knees with a garbled scream, before they fall over, smacking into the wet floor.

The second and third charge at me at the same time. I dodge a punch on the right and deflect a blade with the cuff still on my forearm. Using that moment of their surprise, I thrust my arm upward, lodging the full length of my dagger under their chin. They instantly fall, and as I’m pulling back my arm, I spin and force my knife into the last guard’s gut with all the strength I can muster. Blood spattering into my face as he coughs, before falling to the ground.

Adrenaline is coursing through my veins as I look over my hands, bright red with fresh blood. Then I remember…my brother.

I run to Ryot, kneeling in the pool of blood that surrounds him. I push his shoulder and he rolls onto his back. I hope to see his comforting expression he always has, but his face is pale and cold to the touch.

“Ryot… Ryot please…” I say as I hold his cheeks, his dim eyes staring up at me. “Ryot wake up.” I cry, my tears falling onto him. “Ryot!” I shake his limp body, searching for any sign of life. Pressing my head to his blood soaked chest, I listen for a heartbeat, but I am met with nothing. I let out deep heavy sobs, clinging to his cold body.

I couldn’t hear the steps over my painful cries. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pinch between my shoulder blades before I collapse even further onto the floor.  My vision blurs as I look up to the figure of a large woman looming over me. Here

“Sevika?” I groan as I try to lift myself from the ground. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“A little somethin’ to keep you in check.” She smirks, before picking me off the ground and tossing me onto her shoulder.

I try to struggle against her, but my limbs feel heavy again. She kicks Ryot’s corpse out of her way before carrying me out of the room, I fight to keep my eyes open as I sway with each of her steps. The woman stops for a moment, I come to for a moment, trying to stay hyper vigilant of my surroundings. 

“What do you want me to do with this one, Boss?” Sevika’s voice is low.

There isn’t a reply at first, all I can hear are footsteps that stop behind Sevika. I turn my head toward the sound and wince as my tired muscles scream at me. I am met with the sight of Silco standing before the both of us.

“Hmm,” Silco hums in thought.

He’s so close. If only I could just move my fucking arms, I could get him. 

I could feel the drug taking effect, making my already worn out body feel even more exhausted. My entire body feels like lead and as blood rushes to my fingertips, I can’t seem to move my arms anymore at all. With the strike of his lighter he looks at me with a humored grin. He lights his cigar and takes a long draw in before exhaling into my face. “She’s got some fight in her, maybe she can be of use to us.”

“You fucking monster.” I  manage to growl.

He lifts his hand and gently grabs my face.

“And she has a smart mouth, too,” he pauses, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “She will come back with us. Maybe she’ll be of use…” his cold gaze meets mine again, “or not, we shall leave that up to her.”

I strain against the weight of my body while Sevika begins to walk out of the building. As she carries me down the street, the sun begins to peek over the edge of the cliffs, warming my skin. I fight to stay awake but the warmth of the rising sun and the rocking of Sevika’s steps lull me to sleep.

I do not know where Silco is taking me, but even as I drift into a fitful rest, fear of what will happen next overtakes me. Last night, this man had taken so much from me, now he threatens to take what little freedom I have left.

*** READ CHAPTER 2 ***

Thank you for reading! For story updates and artwork follow my twitter: @flower_of_zaun Story will be update weekly/biweekly

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Thenamesh Spy AU:)

Thena is in danger and it’s on Gil to save her!

"Gil, remember the plan."

"Go to hell." He ripped his earpiece out of his ear, marching through the storage yard. He was never planning on following their plan for this operation. He had said whatever he needed to--anything that would get him here.

He was here for Thena.

She had gone undercover to infiltrate an international arms deal. She could have easily gone undetected to steal their files and such, but they needed confessions for any justice to be served. So they had sent her in as a call girl. All she was supposed to do was record the deals, pour them champagne and look unassuming and beautiful.

They caught her.

He could still remember all of his bones going cold as they overheard on her mic one of them calling her a snake. There was a scuffle, but Thena was in there in a fucking lace bodysuit without even a knife on her. All things considered, they were lucky she was seen as valuable enough to be a bartering chip.

The higher ups were discussing how and what to trade for her. Particularly because they knew Gil was going to come in here and rip every single one of these creeps to pieces.

Gil checked the number of each storage container he passed. He had come in the back way, and every other location they would keep someone seemed clear. But a storage container would be fairly innocuous if they got taken by surprise. And they wouldn't have to risk her being seen when it came time to transfer their operations somewhere.

G-I-L

It was so, so faint. But he heard it--the Morse Code for his name. It was much more effective than an SOS as far as he was concerned. He crouched as he moved in a light jog.

Not the furthest one away but almost, this container had less rust on the outside of it. It was newer, and hadn't been shipped around as much. Gil pressed his ear to it.

G-I-L

It was quiet--she was being restrained at the very least.

He pulled out bolt cutters to take care of the padlock. What he wouldn't give for her lock picking ability, but she was always better at the delicate stuff than he was.

He opened the door carefully. His stomach churned.

Thena was curled up in a ball in the corner, trembling from the cold of being kept in a metal cage in lingerie. Her ankles and hands were bound and she was blindfolded and gagged. There was nothing else at all in the place with her. She couldn't have been in here for more than a day and a half, but they didn't seem to have even brought her water.

Gil rushed over to her but touched her gently, just the tips of his fingers to her shoulder. "Thena?"

She flinched, her breathing rapid.

"Hey, it's me," he whispered as he helped roll her over and sit her upright. She was covered in bruises. "It's me, Thena."

Her eyes were bloodshot, obviously not allowed much sleep, if any. But they adjusted to him slowly. She whimpered.

"Sh, sh, sh," Gil cooed as he tossed away the cloth around her eyes and over her mouth. He unlocked the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, massaging the bloody skin there. "I'm here, Thena. I'm so sorry."

She leaned into him, clutching at the earthy green of his suit. He was in mission gear, but he had made sure to bring something spare, in case of an event like this.

Gil pulled the sweatshirt over her head, moving her arms gently. She let him, just barely clinging to consciousness. "I've got you, sweetheart. You're safe now."

"Hm," she managed to get out. She probably wouldn't be able to speak for a few hours, but it was confirmation that she knew what was happening.

Gil pulled her up, easily holding her with just one arm as he made his way out again. He couldn't risk having both hands completely occupied, and he would put her down again if need be. But that was only in the most dire of circumstances. "We're gettin' out of here, okay? Druig's got an airlift waiting."

She whimpered again; she was worried they would discover her missing and come after them. She was a hindrance to Gil moving as quickly as possible.

"When did they last come to check on you?" he asked.

She patted his chest; three and a half hours ago.

"Okay, we have a little time," he rubbed her shoulder as he made his way to the back of the storage yard and to the fence he had cut on his way around the perimeter the first time. "It's okay, I promise."

Thena clung to him, her arms looped around his neck. "Mm...m-m...m-"

"Sh, it's okay," Gil whispered, kissing her cheek. If he had the spare time at all, he would come back and kill these guys with his bare hands. "Let's go."

Thena held onto him as he slid down the hill and started into the mountains with her. She nudged his head with her forehead.

"Higher ups are still trying to figure out how to barter for you," Gil responded to her silent questioning. He pushed tree branches out of his way as he moved at a brisk but steady pace. "They told me I wasn't allowed to storm the place."

She let out a little puff of air--a laugh.

"They were going to ask Makkari to extricate you," he mumbled as he held onto her sliding down another hill. "Said I was too close."

"Hm."

They were too close. They were definitely too close for Agents, even for a partner set.

Gil looked up at her, perched in the crook of his elbow and hanging onto him. "I could never leave you, Thena."

She still couldn't speak, but she smiled as much as she could, running her thumb over his cheekbone. She tapped against it.

My hero.

He smiled at her, bringing her hand up to kiss the tip of her thumb. "Tell me that when you're all healed up."

[queen-scribbles]

Weird Idea of Fun

First Kina/Rass fic, the result of me wondering how many of those teasing dialogue prompts I could fit in one fic. (The answer, in their case, is three)

---- 

It was a trap.

Of course it was a trap. Everything was a trap these days. Kina had walked into despite strong suspicions because Shae was an ally and asked for help and Kina had promised to do what she could and the chance for intel was too good to pass up--

On the bright side, it meant she got to work with Rass again.

On the less-bright side, that meant he fell into the same trap she did.

Literally fell. And it was not a pretty landing, with them caught off-guard as they were. They rolled and landed in a tangle, and any benefit to not being the one on the bottom was negated by the fact beskar armor was hardly any softer than the ground.

“Well, that was fun,” Rass wheezed as she rolled off him.

Kina snorted and rubbed a banged elbow. “Weird definition of fun you’ve got. Still in one piece?”

Rass sat up and shook his head. “Feels like it. You?”

“Think so.” A few things ached as she got to her feet, but nothing was broken. She offered him a hand up, then stumbled when the weight made her feet sink into the sandy ground.

Rass caught her arm to steady her. “Careful. You see where my helmet got to?”

Kina shook her head. “Prob’ly the same place as my blaster,” she muttered. She’d dropped it on the initial collision with the ground.

“Great.”

They set about looking for the missing gear, but Kina was quickly distracted by examining the surroundings. There were metal walls, despite the sandy floor. Openings four or five meters overhead--couldn’t tell if they were windows or holes--let in enough light to see. Sort of. And another meter above that was the ceiling and the hinged grate that had dumped them in here.

There was a muttered oath in Mando’a from across the space, followed by something more successful-sounding before she could ask Rass how it was going. “So, there’s good news and bad news, which do you want first?”

Not my favorite sentence. Kina pivoted to face him. “Surprise me,” she deadpanned.

“Good news, found our stuff,” Rass said, holding out her blaster as he joined her. “Bad news, if the state of my helmet is anything to go by, that probably doesn’t work right now.” For emphasis, he held up his helmet and shook it, a fine rain of sand falling out. “It’s all jammed in the visor and everything.”

Fan-kriffing-tastic. Kina looked over her blaster, blew off grit, tried to fire it into a sand bank. Nothing.

“Damn,” she muttered as she returned it to its spot at her hip. She’d need a workbench, and probably time to completely strip it down, to get it working again. “Guess we should work on gettin’ outta here.”

“Yeah, got any ideas?” Rass brushed sand out of his hair as he looked over the space.

Kina glanced at him. “Jetpack?”

“Busted on landing.”

“Of course it did. “She sighed. Shae owes me big for this. “Then we start looking for a door.”

“Right.” They’d only been at it for a minute or so when Rass broke the silence again. “So, d’you think this was for us, specifically, or just a general ‘no peeking’ kind of trap?”

Kina snorted. “Assumin’ Shae’s intel was good-”

“Jekiah double-checked it himself.”

“Right. Then they’re actually here and our landing was way too easy.” She rapped on the metal wall. Solid, no echo here.

“So why wasn’t there an alarm when we hit it?” Rass countered, running a hand over the wall a few meters away. “Or Heta or Ri’kan or whoever’s in charge here waiting to gloat?”

“Could be a silent alarm,” Kina said, pausing as her fingers caught a seam where there shouldn’t be a seam. “Or maybe we just missed hearing it in the bustle of, y’know, falling. They might be on their way right now.”

“All the more reason to get out of here. Be really fun to catch them off-guard,” he grinned.

“On that note, I think I found something.” The misplaced seam traced out a square. Not a full door, but a maintenance hatch maybe. Big enough to climb through. If they could get it open.

“Let me see.” Rass joined her and after a minute of looking, they were able to determine there were no controls on this side. He studied it an extra moment. “Should be an access panel...”

“Maintenance hatch for the maintenance hatch?” Kina said glibly.

“Something like that,” he laughed. “Place this remote you gotta be prepared, right?” The panel popped open under his hand even as he spoke. “Gotcha.”

It only took him a couple minutes’ fiddling before the hatch hissed and popped open a fraction.

“My hero,” Kina teased, nudging the hatch to widen the gap. 

“I’ll accept accolades once we’re free and clear,” he riposted. peering into whatever lay on the other side of the opening. “Huh, dark in here...”

“Need me to hold your hand, Hero?” she smirked.

“Only if it’ll make you feel better, Spike,” Rass shot back with a grin. “Doesn’t appear to be anyone lurking, though, so let’s give them a little mystery of their own.”

Kina climbed though the hatch to keep an eye out while Rass set the wires right and closed the access panel before joining her. She pushed the hatch closed until she heard the lock engage as he crept a few paces down the hall--tunnel?--to scout out the intersection.

“You have anything besides that?” he asked softly, tipping his head toward her jammed blaster. 

“I mean. My scattergun, assumin’ it’s not busted. It’ll do in a pinch, even if it’s not all that quiet. Why, d’you have eight extra weapons hidden in your armor you can share?”

Rass huffed a quiet laugh as he peered around the corner. “Three, actually, and not sure how hidden, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He flashed a grin, the amusement in his brown eyes visible despite the dim light as he tugged something free of his boot and passed it to her. “I can hear voices; better you have something a little more versatile than a scattergun.”

“Thanks.” Kina palmed the holdout blaster--probably a little small for him, but a good fit in her hand--and briefly considered making a smart comment about Mandalorians and sharing weapons. The only reason she didn’t was picking up on those voices he heard.

They were moving closer, a patrol most likely. Or someone coming to check what they caught in their trap. Kina and Rass pressed further back in the shadows, an awkward-fitting niche between the wall joint and an equipment shelf, weapons in hand though using them would be a last resort. Better to leave no sign they were here as long as possible.

“...said the alert tripped, so they fell for it.”

“He want us to check on it?”

“Not yet. They aren’t goin’ anywhere, and he  wants to arrange a surprise in case they try anything when we open the door.”

A snort as the patrol--Varad by their armor--passed. “Prob’ly the smartest thing he’s done yet. Say who we caught?”

“The Alliance commander and one of the brothers.”

Another snort. “Of course. Stars forbid Shae Vizla get her hands dirty when her lackeys can do it for her. Still, more than we expected to catch. I see why Joram wants to be prepared...”

They moved out of hearing without noticing anything amiss.

Some patrol, Kina thought with a dark smile. She lingered, pressed in the small niche with Rass--playing it safe, obviously. They didn’t even pick up on two people hiding a meter and a half away. At least between the patrol’s ease and the conversation it seemed their escape was unnoticed. So far. No one was on alert.

“I vote that way,” Rass said in a whisper, gesturing down the tunnel the patrol had come from as he held her gaze and eased out of their niche. “I think we’re good, Commander.”

“Right. And I second the route choice.” Her fingers curled around the blaster grip and she scanned the tunnels. “We should see if we can find a security hub or somethin’.”

Rass nodded. “I’d kill for a layout of this place, and that would be our best bet for finding one.”

“Not gonna find anything if we stand around,” Kina said, rolling her shoulders and starting off cautiously down their chosen tunnel.

They got lucky--not far down the dank passageway was a short flight of stairs up to what was clearly a security office. It was empty and dark, not in use by the Hidden Chain for whatever reason. It was also secluded enough Kina risked turning on the lights.

Rass tried to start up the computers, to no avail, and glared frustration at them for a moment before handing Kina his blaster rifle. “Hang on a minute...” 

She stuffed the holdout in the back of her belt in order to take it.

Rass disappeared under the desk and a few second later she heard the unmistakable sound of someone hotwiring electronics.

“Is that even gonna work?” she asked.

“Should, there’s just a couple bad--ow!--connectors. Probably why they aren’t using this room.” He was quiet, focused, for a moment, then, “Can you check the wires and try turning this one on? Should be good go.” A hand reached up to slap the far right end of the desk.

“Sure.” Kina rested his rifle on the desk, one hand loosely curled around the barrel as the other checked wires and powered up the computer.

The flickering light of it coming to life distracted her just long enough she didn’t pick up the flash of red and white armor outside until just a little too late. She kicked Rass’ ankle in warning even as the Dar’manda scout stiffened at the sight of someone in a room that was supposed to be unoccupied.

He burst in, blaster raised.” Weapons on the floor, now!”

“Alright, alright, what’s the rush?” Kina flinched as if caught off-guard, then made a show of sliding the rifle on the floor and kicking it away--out of sight behind the desk, where Rass could reach it.

“And the pistol!” the scout barked, taking a step closer for emphasis.

Kina glanced down at the blaster on her hip and gave an exaggerated shrug.  “Thing is, that one’s sentimental, and it’s busted right now.” She paced sideways a couple of steps to keep his focus on her. “I’d just as soon hang on to it, if you don’t mind.”

Rass shifted carefully, quietly, to reach for his rifle.

“Thing is, I do mind,” the scout said, a sneer in his voice. “Field Marshal might want you alive, but I will shoot you if you don’t drop it and kick it over, now.”

“Oh, fine,” she sighed, and made a show of slow and exaggerated movement to withdraw the blaster and set it on the floor to kick over.

The second the scout’s gaze dropped to the skidding blaster, Rass rolled out from under the desk and shot him.

“Good aim,” Kina said with a grin, eyeing the trio of center-mass kill shots. 

“Thanks.” Rass accepted the hand up she offered, then nudged the dead scout with his boot. “Looks like that’s another one you owe me,” he said, singsong, through a crooked smile.

“However shall I survive this debt I’m racking up?” she deadpanned, unable to fight a smile of her own..

“With my help, apparently.” Rass was still grinning as he moved to the computer terminal and started looking for the schematics they needed.

“Hey, I saved your ass from Ri’kan,” she shot back, retrieving her blaster. “We’re square on one of ‘em.” She grabbed the dead scout’s arm and dragged him out of easy view. “We’ll hafta work out something to settle this one.”

“Guess we will. Ah, there you are.” Rass pulled up and downloaded the layout.  “Guess we’re also on a tighter count before they realize--”

The dead scout’s comm crackled. “All patrols report in! The maalraas slipped the net, we need to lock them down immediately and locate their ship!”

Kina and Rass looked at each other.

“Time’s up.” Rass pushed away from the desk.

“Yeah.” Kina couldn’t help a faint smile as she watched him close down the computer. There was dust streaked on his face from crawling under the desk, combined with still sand-tousled hair. It was kind of adorable.

He turned abruptly enough to catch her staring. “What?”

She shrugged and winked at him. “You’re cute when you’re all disheveled.”

“Heh, thanks.” Rass passed her a copy of the schematics. “I’d say the same, but you actually aren’t all that disheveled.”

“So... I’m just cute?” Kina teased with a grin.

He just cleared his throat and arched a brow as he headed for the door. “Think they’ll find the shuttle?”

“We did land a good bit away,” she said, letting the other topic slide. “But if they know we’re here and are determined... fifty-fifty odds?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.” Rass checked the schematic. “We should see if we can find out what they’re after here, if there’s any hint to Heta’s new base, so we’re not leaving empty-handed.”

“Intel’s better than nothin’.” Kina started down the steps, gaze fixed on the doorway they needed, watching for any other patrols. “But they’re gonna be on the lookout for us now, so it’s gonna be harder to do unseen.”

“You know I love a challenge,” he said with a laugh.

“Don’t all Mandalorians?”

“Good point.”

They’d reached the door and lapsed into silence as they stepped back back into the tunnel. There was no sign of any patrol, so after a confirming glance at the schematic, they continued along that path. A left turn at the next intersection had them skirting the heart of this place without getting too close until they needed to. In theory, anyway.

“Looks like the comm room is near the front entrance,” Kina murmured, keeping her voice low despite the empty tunnel.  “Check there for any intel like flight routes or shipping records, then if we think there’s time we check out what what they’re doing?”

“Right behind you, boss,” he returned, just as quiet, gaze back the way they’d come.

“Not the boss,” she said. “We’re partners.”

Rass whipped around to face her, and she caught the flash of his grin in the dim light. “I’m touched,” he teased in a whisper.

Voices around the curve precluded any snarky response from her. There weren’t a lot of options for hiding here, especially since the Hidden Chain was on alert, so they each pressed against a protruding wall joint on opposite sides of the tunnel and waited.

“...can’t get far, not with how many we have.”

“No? Look how well they did on Ruhnuk. How long they went unnoticed.”

“But we’re on guard, and Joram’s got double watch on comms, doors, anywhere they might go-”

The pair drew level with where Kina and Rass waited and barely had time to register their presence before a blaster shot each made them not a problem. They dragged the bodies--Varad, again--as out of sight as they could before pressing on.

It was good they had the warning of overheard conversation--there were two Dar’manda outside the comm room and four inside. Not a hard fight, but definitely one that went better prepared.

“Get lookin’,” Kina waved Rass toward the console as she pulled out a medkit. She scowled at the scorch marks on her duster and tugged free a bacta patch to slap over the blaster burn grazing her thigh. Bastard put holes in my favorite coat.

“You alright?” Rass asked at her quiet hiss of pain as the bacta kicked in, half-turning the watching the comm search.

“Yeah. This won’t even slow me down.” She stuffed everything back in the kit, stowed it at her belt. “Just stings setting in. Anything good there?”  There was the faintest hitch to her step as she joined him and she really hoped that went away quick.

“Y’know, it’s weird, there isn’t a lot.” Rass gave the slowly scrolling data his full attention again. “You’d think they would be in touch for updates or something at the least, but there’s barely any outgoing transmissions. Almost like they were trying to hide it or not doing anything worth sharing, which doesn’t fit the intel we got on this place.”

“Hmm.” Kina had to agree; the paltry amount of information scrolling by didn’t match the intel profile. A kernel of unease  settled in her gut. “Maybe it’s something Heta doesn’t want the Hidden Chain knowin’ about til it’s done?”

“Maybe.” The skepticism was plain in Rass’ voice.

Even as they tried to puzzle out an explanation, the floor trembled with a distant, muffled explosion. Both heads instinctively swiveled toward the sound before sharing a look.

“That would be them findin’ our ride,” Kina sighed.

“Probably.” Rass tossed her a grin. “Even when you’re not behind the controls you’re a menace to shuttles.”

She rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm. “Least I didn’t crash this one. You gonna download what ya found or not?”

“Hardly seems worth it...” His brow furrowed as he looked at the data again. “I guess we should. In case it’s one of those things where it seems useless until you pair it up with something. Like a cipher.”

“Do it fast, then. Now that they’ve destroyed our shuttle, they’ll be lookin’ even more in earnest for us now. We gotta check out the core to see what the hell they’re doing”--even more of a mystery with the underwhelming logs--”and then find the hanger.” A smirk. “Assuming you’re up for a bit more space piracy?”

Rass laughed. “Always.”

The schematics showed a maintenance crawlspace where they could get eyes on the main rooms while being safer from discovery. And there was a hatch in a room just down the hall from them.

“I’ll fit better, gimme a boost,” Kina whispered when they reached it, studying the small grate half a meter over Rass’ head. “You can keep an eye out for trouble, since we’re attractin’ that like mynocks today.”

He nodded and squared up to give her that boost. “Watch out for sensors, they’re paranoid enough have ‘em in there.”

It took a minute to work the grate off--checking for surprises as she did--and another half of one to scramble in without making too much noise. She’d memorized the route before coming in, so the only thing that slowed her was keeping an eye out for sensors or mines. She had a nifty gadget courtesy of Oggurobb’s team that could blank them out, but she had to spot them in time.

She wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her when she reached her goal.

There was nothing remarkable in the room she could see. No equipment, no cache of artifacts being catalogued, no mad scientist’s lab turning out super soldiers or juiced up beasts. Just a mostly-bare room with small pockets of Varad and Dar’manda settled in the corners like predators, and a raised walkway around half the perimeter supporting a few more. 

Alarm belles went off in the back of her head. This didn’t add up. Something was up here, something the intel missed. I have a bad feeling about this...

That bad feeling crystalized, the pieces clicking when Kina shifted to the next grate and took in the other room that was allegedly the heart of the operation. It looked much the same as the first, but she could make out the telltale edge of maglock floorplates, and the Dar’manda on the walkway had a trio of the sonic disruptors like Ruhnuk.

Oh, Caraya’s kriffing moons. Kina scuttled backwards enough to get turned around and head back to Rass. She didn’t risk comms until well away from the grates. “Rass? Start working up a quick route to the hangers, it’s time for that space piracy and a daring escape.”

“I need a minute!” He sounded out of breath and the blaster fire in the background made Kina pick up her pace--much as she could, anyway.

Still, by the time she made it back, silence greeted her rather than the cacophony of a gun battle. “Still alive?” she hissed over comms, and her heart did a weird little skip at the brief delay before an answer came.

“Despite their best efforts. You back?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, gimme a second...” There was a grunt and the access grate swung free, Rass’ head framed in the opening. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I know, small galaxy,” Kina said drolly. “Help me down?”

“Sure.” She didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened as he did, though. Or the half dozen extra blaster scorches on his armor. Or the dead Varad and Dar’manda in the doorway.

“I see what you mean about best efforts,” she muttered. “You okay?”

“For the most part,” Rass said with a shrug. 

Kina saw the pair of blaster burns along his bicep and snorted. “That being the exception? C’mere, it’ll be faster if I patch it up.”

“What’re you in such hurry for all of a sudden?” he asked, sitting without protest to let her take care of his arm.

“This is a trap,” Kina said. She dug out a medkit and scowled at his arm. “Stars, one of them got you good.”

“It’ll be fine. And, I mean, we hit a trap in the first thirty sec-”

“No, the whole thing is a trap,” she cut him off. She shared what she had seen as she smeared bacta and smoothed synthskin over his wounds, concluding,  “There’s no operation, no deeper purpose to this place. Somebody planted intel--someone good if they managed to fool your brother--to make this look too juicy to pass up and sat back to see if they snagged Shae or some of her highly trusted allies.”

“Would explain why the comm logs were so light,” Rass mused, one corner of his mouth twitching as she smoothed the last edge of the synthskin. “Thanks “

“Welcome. Also explains why we’ve only seen Varad and Dar’manda, doesn’t it? Since they’re the muscle and the cannon fodder.” Kina shot a pointed look at the bodies on the floor.

“Bet there’s an Ashaad in charge.” Rass pushed to his feet. “Or maybe Ha’rangir if they want the glory.”

“‘Cause that would go over well with Varad,” Kina drawled, moving to check the dead for anything useful.

He snorted. “Look who’s gettin’ a head for Mando politics.”

There’s two words that’ll never feel like they belong together.... She finished her investigation--handful of credits and a spare blaster pack--and cocked her head to watch him study the schematic.

Rass finished just a few seconds later. “Okay. Got a good route to the hanger. But you realize that’s prob’ly the most heavily guarded part of the whole place. They know we have to go there to get out of here.”

Kina’s grin in return was sharp, dangerous. “But I’m a sneaky little chakaar. I’ll figure somethin’ out, soon as I see what we’re up against.”

“Oh, this I gotta see,” he said with an even bigger grin as they started along the route.

They didn’t run across any patrols on their way, and Kina wondered if that was just luck or the full force being pulled to guard the hanger. There wasn’t any evidence of the latter, when they reached their goal; there was a healthy scattering of Varad and Dar’manda, but not an overwhelming force.

Rass nudged her with his elbow and nodded toward the control room, where a beefy figure in gold armor stood at the window. “Ha’rangir,” he mouthed, arching one brow significantly.

Kina nodded in return and tugged him back. “There’s enough shadow I think we could sneak to that one,” she whispered, pointing to a shuttle two-thirds of the way down the far wall. Unlike some of the others, the ramp was down. “Should be able to get it fired up and outta here before they can stop us.”

“Good plan. One problem--I didn’t pack my stealth belt for this trip,” Rass said with a shrug and half-smile.

She clicked her tongue in mock reproof and grinned. “Lucky I’m here, then. Given how much my line of work relies on sneakin’ around, mine’s souped up. Haven’t tested yet, but I’m pretty sure if we maintain contact and don’t stress it too much, it could hide both of us for a trip.”

“Pretty sure, huh?”

“What’s life without a little risk?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Better than nothing, I guess.  You thinking piggyback ride? Holding hands?”

Kina smirked. “Latter would prob’ly work better. Or you could just hold on to my arm. Long as we’re touching it should work.”

“And if it doesn’t, I’m pretty sure we can take these guys.” Rass shot her a grin and then rested his hand on her arm, loosely grasping just below her elbow.

Kina grinned back and toggled on stealth. It took an extra second to hide them both, and she could feel the generator hum against her hip with the strain. But it worked. And it held when they moved, very slowly, through the doorway and toward their goal. The stealth field flickered adjusting to the shadows and Kina bit her lip.

It was a strange balance; the urge to go fast and get this over with so they didn’t stress it too long versus wanting to move slow so they didn’t stress it too much. They crept past a pair of Varad, a Ha’rangir, a Dar’manda.

Kina’s boot caught on the edge of the boarding ramp and the resulting stumble almost broke their connection. The heat of the overworked generator seeped through her clothes. The second they were were out of sight aboard the shuttle she flicked it off. She’d almost swear it let out a whine of relief as it powered down.

“Hardly believe that worked,” she muttered.

Rass back a smile as he headed for the cockpit. “No confidence in your gear, Commander?”

“Oh, plenty, or I wouldn’t have made the suggestion. I just also know its limits and we were pushing pretty close.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, gaze on the controls as he fired up the shuttle. 

Or, tried to. “Haar’chak!”

Kina turned at the softly growled oath to give him a questioning look.

“It wants an authorization code to begin startup,” Rass said with a grim smile. “Three guesses where we’re likely to find that.”

“Over with tall, gold, and beefy?” she deadpanned, looking toward the control room.

“That’s be my guess.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a fine rain of lingering sand. “No way we get over there without fighting everyone in the hanger.”

And that would give time for an alarm to be raised, bringing more troops from other parts of the trap. “So we don’t.” Kina started for the for the ramp. “I’ll go solo.”

“You sure that’s  good idea?” Rass cleared his throat. “I know you’re good an’ all, but-”

“I’m not plannin’ to fight them, Rass,” Kina grinned. “Though it’s sweet you care. ‘M gonna sneak in and then...” she checked her bracer. Two left. “I have a tranq dart with Goldy’s name on it.”

Rass smirked but there was definitely a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Nice.”

“For the record, I could take tall, gold, and beefy in a solo fight, but I think swipin’ what we need from under his nose and makin’ a daring escape will hurt more.”

He nodded. “You’re not wrong. Better go quick, before they start wondering too hard why they haven’t seen us for a while. Be careful.”

“Right.” The stealth generator was still a touch warm, but didn’t offer serious complaint when she fired it up just for her.

Kina made her way down the ramp, across the hanger, and up to the control room. She did have to dodge clusters of troops as she went, mostly Varad with a sprinkle of Dar’manda. The walkway up to the control room was guarded by a large group of Ha’rangir and she all but held her breath edging past them.

Goldy was alone in the control room, now seated with an eye on the computer panel, a wicked looking vibroblade across his knees. Kina was pretty sure she glimpsed a krayt dragon tooth fragment hanging off the hilt. The urge to put a scattergun round in the man’s back was overwhelming but she restrained herself. A tranq dart to the neck would have to suffice.

She waited until he finished a conversation demanding status updates before firing the dart. It struck true and a moment later Goldy was slumped in his chair, out like a light. Kina shuffled through the computer files until she found the code they needed.

She transmitted it to Rass, got a hissed ‘Great, but I’m not starting up ‘til you’re back’ in reply, and made her hasty exit just as Goldy started to stir. She probably moved a little faster than was wise on her return trip, made movements or noise the stealth field couldn’t completely hide. Still, nobody noticed her until the last pair of Varad between her and the shuttle.

Kina heard the grunt of raised suspicion as she slipped past and picked up the pace. Even if it made the stealth field fuzz out. She darted up the shuttle ramp.

“I’m in, go!” she hissed toward the cockpit, then spun to watch the door while Rass got the shuttle moving. The first attempted boarder get a chest full of scattergun rounds. The second got a blaster shot to the throat.

The shuttle rocked as it lifted off and Kina flung a thermal detonator at the knot of Hidden Chain headed for the ramp. The explosion--and their attempts to avoid it--cleared things enough she could close the door and retract the ramp.

“Gonna want to strap in!” Rass hollered and Kina scrambled for the nearest seat as the shuttle spun to head out the gaping cliffside hole that was the hanger  ‘door’.

They cleared the opening and Rass almost immediately jerked the shuttle left to avoid a turbolaser bolt, then back on course to avoid the cliff face.

“You crash this thing, I am never letting you live it down,” Kina warned with a gloating smile. And she’d have fun with it, too.

“All the incentive I need,” Rass shot back as the shuttle leveled out. It dipped to dodge another turbolaser bolt, then they were clear and he started punching in hyperspace coordinates. It wasn’t until starlines stretched into hyperspace that either of them relaxed.

Kina moved up to slouch in the co-pilot seat. “Well. That was fun.”

Rass snorted a laugh. “You have a weird idea of fun.”

“Makes us a perfect match,” she teased. “Oh. Here.” She held out the holdout blaster. “Thanks for the loan.”

“Welcome.” He took the blaster, stowed it back in place. “Glad I had it to offer.”

“Heh, me, too.” Kina chewed her lip in thought a moment. Hers would be a pain to fix, but that was a problem for later.  “You think there’s anything worthwhile in those logs you grabbed, or was this whole thing a bust?”

“We can let Jek and Mandalore figure out if the logs are worth anything,” Rass said with a shrug. “But either way, I wouldn’t call it a bust.”

The grin he tossed her made clear why, but Kina had never been one to let a golden opportunity pass by. “Yeah?”

“You owe me one now,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight a smile. “Not for long, way things’re going.”

“You planning on making it two?”

This time she punched his arm. “I meant we’ll prob’ly wind up even again sooner rather than later, and you know it.”

They may have fallen into a trap, but on the bright side, they’d worked together well getting out of it.

That was a win in her book.

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

nah, we’re not together or anythin like that, he’s just a friend, bro. he’s a butcher, and a damn good one. get all my meat from him now, it’s quality shit. you should see him with a knife when he gets to choppin, bro, it’s downright mesmerizin. i could watch him for hours, just lay back and watch the steak, the liver, whatever he’s got fall apart into nice even cuts, listenin to the knife hit the block

he hung me up, bro. yeah. yeah. in the freezer, with all the other meat. there were chains around my wrists, slung around this hook on the ceilin. nah, none a that leatherface shit, bro, he cares about me. cares about my safety. i know he seems a lil weird, but he’s a nice guy. smart, too. real good with words. sorta relaxes me when he starts talkin, you know? but yeah, the chains were in my mouth, too, and over my eyes. i was sittin there in the dark, for six hours, shiverin my ass off, tastin the cold steel. every once in awhile, he’d come in with a pot a hot water, throw it on me to sorta shock my nerves and laugh

nah, wasn’t boilin or nuthin, more like a hot shower that’s a lil too hot. it’s nice at first. warm. then it gets to dryin. my nips were rock fuckin hard, bro. i could hear the steam pourin off me, like it was sizzlin. like a wooshy kinda sizzlin, like a gas stove, you know? then it got colder. colder than it was before. so, you know, naturally to keep me warm, he’d need to keep doin it, but, ya see, this’s where it gets tricky, cause eventually, you know, he wouldn’t do it as much. he’d start slippin a straw in through the chains in my mouth, tellin me to suck. at first, i thought, hey this is great, i mean, i hadn’t had a drink in what seemed like hours. then he kept doin it. kept makin me drink. after awhile, you know, i had to take a piss real fuckin bad, and it was so fuckin cold, i’d almost be dancin there, chained up while he watched me flex, listenin to me beg and moan all helpless, cause i was, haha

well, that pan a hot water. he set it down between my legs. empty, a course, he hadn’t gotten more in awhile, haha. aw, bro. you can see where this’s goin, right? yeah. yeah, i see the gears startin to turn in your head, bro. this whole time the only thing i’m wearin’s my jock, same one i wore here, i just came from practice, and i’m so turned on, i’m beadin through the mesh with pre, like bro. the whole pouch was soaked. i could feel it dribblin down my leg, felt like i had puddin on my dick, it was gettin so thick from the cold. anyway, you know, i guess i felt pretty stupid for thinkin my strap was wet before–thighs too, come to think of it–and that empty pan, it didn’t stay empty too long after that, haha. least it was nice and warm, bro. you know, fresh from the tap, haha. hey, you think that’s bad, you remember that chain i was tellin you i was hangin by? well, get this. it had a winch and lever. couple more repetitions a this, the straw and the pot, i’m about three feet off the ground, still blind, still cold, and i’m swingin back and forth, tryin to hold it in, cause i’m thinkin ‘fuck, i miss this, what’s gonna happen? he gonna let me freeze?‘ 

haha, dude, i know it sounds sick. it sounds real fuckin sick, but he always hoses me down afterwards. meat’s gotta get clean, he says. dunno what to say, bro, i like spendin time with him. i like bein meat. i like how he fondles and punches me, just wails on me for hours while i bite down on my bit like an animal. and he’s nice to me. wraps me up in a towel afterward. massages me. talks to me. tells me i did a real good job bein just a piece a meat. he makes me feel good about it, like not just how he talks to me, but how he looks at me and touches me. then he sucks my dick and lets me suck his, haha. i can’t wait to go back there, bro. i like to hang around. sorta like bein the meat’s my natural state a bein. like i was put on this earth to get tenderized, packaged up and sold. like any animal magnetism i got’s a mistake a birth and i shoulda just been born an inanimate hunk a protein

yeah, not a lot a people get it, bro. i guess it is pretty weird when you say it out loud. not a lotta people listen to me this long, either

ya know, what’s real weird is how many people around here are into eatin brain. yeah, actual brain. pig, sheep, cows, people eat that stuff. my new bro gets orders for it all the time, and i don’t think any a his customers are zombies, haha. yeah, almost every night, bro. takes the brain, the whole brain, wrapped up in like this skin, and he peels it off. haha, i sorta like it, bro. it’s squishy, it’s interestin, and the way he touches it, well you ever hear the sound it makes when a guy kneads his fingers in meat? it’s real peaceful, bro, like the sound you’d used to get goin through styroafoam packin peanuts, really takes me back, bro. feels real good. and right before he cuts the brain, he tells me to picture all the thoughts that woulda been in it, really picture the thoughts, of what it musta been like to be a bull, or a horse, or whatever, and it’s just sooo relaxin bro, you wouldn’t believe it. it’s sorta like i’m in the brain, like the brain’s my thoughts, and when he brings the cleaver down, it all goes away

hey, you free tonight, bro? gets sorta lonely bein a piece a meat, i could always use some company. nother big guy to help me reinforce what i am. lookin at ya right now, wouldn’t be outta place in the freezer yourself. whaddya say, bro? wanna join me? how bout we two slabs a meat start hangin around together?

[kingfishered]

Johnny watched the other man’s mind work, observed the flickers of expression that flashed across Ghost’s face that he usually missed when there was a mask in the way. Simon’s face, he corrected himself. That felt better, more accurate here, when the mask was discarded with the rest of his gear, leaving just him behind, the man still enduring beneath it all, in spite of the world trying to be rid of every last trace of him.

He had never actually called Ghost Simon out loud. He didn’t know if he could, if he’d be okay with it. The only time he’d heard that name used was by Price, back when he’d first taken his mask off in Las Almas. Perhaps he’d have to… test it out at some point. Or just ask if he could. He’d like to think they were close enough for that.

As his eyes searched Simon’s face, he catalogued each and every mark and scar that decorated him, every curve and angle of his features, every subtle shift of expression. He wanted to draw him. He already had - once he’d got back from Las Almas he’d sketched Simon’s face numerous times from memory, trying to remember every detail he could pick up in that dark room. The sketches had never turned out quite right.

Now, he had all of it, and far longer to look. So he would take as long as he needed to ensure the sketches would be meticulously crafted, as accurate as possible to how he saw Simon.

And, if his gaze lingered on Simon’s lips a little too long sometimes, well. No one needed to know that except him. He just wanted to be sure that he would get their shape correct, is all.

He noticed Simon’s eyes seemed to search him, too. As they ran down the length of his body, Johnny could practically feel his gaze, worming it's way under his clothes, under his skin. He liked it. He liked having Simon’s eyes on him, watching and observing him, focused on him and only him.

He knew Ghost was probably just thinking about where he might have scars, but that didn't make the attention any less special. And - had his gaze stayed, just a little longer, between Johnny’s legs? No, he shook that thought away immediately, he had definitely just been projecting.

Simon stretched his legs out, leaning them into Johnny’s and leaving them there, a small yet settled touch against his calf. It wasn’t quite hands on his hips, gently squeezing and rubbing his thumbs back and forth, but Johnny appreciated it all the same, a gentle smile settling on his lips.

And then Simon smiled again, reminding Johnny of those dimples he’d discovered today, and he decided at least half of his sketches later were going to have to be of his smile. He never wanted to forget what it looked like, the way his pushed at his cheeks and wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, great question,” Johnny laughed as he asked it, looking down at his forearms, then flipping them over and checking the other side. He had many stupid scars, it would be a struggle to just pick just a few of the best.

“A’wright, how’s this?” he held out his right hand and pointed to a patch of scarred skin on the inside of his index finger, covering over his fingerprint. “Got this when I was a wee thing, I was gettin’ real interested how th’ toaster worked. Mam told me not ta touch it ‘cause it were hot, so I decided ta see jus’ how hot tha’ was,” he grinned at the memory, remembering how his mother had lectured him as she treated it and he had cried, then she pressed a kiss to his hand and pulled him into a hug, which had ultimately made him feel much better.

A lot of his fingerprints were burned off in some way these days, no doubt a side effect of his borderline pyromania. The feeling in his fingertips wasn’t quite as sensitive as it used to be as a result. Not that he cared, he liked fire and explosions a little too much to let that stop him.

“Oh yeah, got another one for ya,” Johnny said, bringing a hand up to his face to feel over his right eyebrow to locate a small, barely visible scar. “Here, a kid a church nursery lobbed a plastic carrot at ma face,” he snorted, “Still got a scar 23 years later, dunno why it’s stuck around so long.

“Dinnae remember what we were fightin’ fer, o’ course, but ah can pretty confidently say it was prob’ly because ah was bein’ an annoying bastard, as usual,” he nodded sagely, a proud smile on his face.

Johnny was right, he was still in one piece. And he had Johnny to thank for that. 

When he first arrived back at his office after the operation, he was fully expecting to spiral, badly. He planned on doing enough so his wounds didn't get completely infected, retrieving the bottle from Price's office and thinking.

It wouldn't have been the injuries that would have finished him off that night, it would have been his own bloody mind, the deadly thing that it was. Sitting, thinking about how he was a fucking Lieutenant and he couldn't even do a simple job anymore.

It terrified him, probably more than a snake ever could, losing what made him an… asset.

He didn't feel useless often, he'd even dare to say he was good at what he did, but tonight, as he came home with his tail between his legs, that was all he felt. Useless.

Sure, the job had technically been a success, but in Simon's mind? He may as well have taken a shot to the chest and been left to bleed out in the gutters. It would have felt the same.

The extra drink had not loosened Simon up, clearly. If anything, it made him even more on edge. Even more distressed. Hence why Johnny not following him when he moved away gave him some much needed space, physically and mentally, too.

If he had chased the contact, Simon would have undoubtedly shut down completely. It wouldn't have been Johnny's fault, nor would it have been because it was Johnny. It was just… something that happened, and the way that Johnny had respected that would be what gave Simon the bravery to reach back out. 

Eventually.

And, much like the touching, Simon would have also loved to hear Johnny sing. But, sloshed singing wouldn't quite be the same as hearing the Scot's voice when he was sober. He'd rather wait, though he didn't doubt for a second that his voice was beautiful.

He noticed quickly that Johnny had a rather rapid reaction to the alcohol. If ever they went out drinking together, Simon supposed he'd have to keep an eye on him. But, for now, neither of them had to keep their wits about them. They were safe, even if Simon's brain was still telling him to run. He could lean back, relax, and enjoy the slow descent of Johnny's accent into indecipherable Scottish mulch.

Honestly, in Simon's stressed haze, Johnny could have gotten away with not bringing up the questions and then, in turn, never having to answer them. Simon had completely forgotten about that part of the deal, and yet… Johnny was honest with him.

The warmth in his stomach settled back down as he scanned his eyes down Johnny's body. Did he have scars that were hidden by clothes, too? It was a dangerous line of thought, but he couldn't help himself from picturing Johnny's bare, scarred skin over stretches of firm muscle. 

Where was he imagining? He'd keep that to himself, thank you very much, though it was a dead giveaway how his eyes lingered somewhere between Johnny's legs, where they shouldn't have been lingering at all, for a few seconds longer than they had lingered anywhere else.

Slowly, he stretched his own legs out, a small groan slipping past his lips as he moved his aching body. When he had his legs straight out, one ankle crossed over the other, he slotted them right between Johnny's. Their calves touched, a solid and constant point of contact, and Simon had to force himself to start speaking as he became acutely aware of the fact that he might yank Johnny down into his lap so he could hold him closer if he didn't get a distraction, and fast.

Fucking hell, that sounded nice, actually.

Having Johnny just resting in his lap while he did some paperwork. Maybe he'd fall asleep, Simon could read the forms out to him as he filled them in and that would surely knock the Scot out.

Or, he could have Johnny sitting on the floor between his legs. He could play with his hair, give him gentle head scratches and whisper sweet praises down to him whenever the desire struck.

Simon shook the thoughts of domesticity away with a firm nod, and his lips curled up into a grin, dimples popping once again.

"What's the stupidest one you've got?" he asked, enthusiastic for the answer to lighten his mood even further. He could never stay miserable if Johnny was around. 

And, he knew there must have been several scars Johnny had gotten from acting the fool, especially when a fair few of his own scars were from general idiocy.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,577 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse, violence, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: STUFF. IS. HAPPENING! A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: The Hilltop and Alexandria are well into preparations for the war against the Saviors, and someone goes missing.

Your name: submit What is this?

A couple weeks later

It had been an eventful couple of weeks. Alexandria and Hilltop were well into preparations for the first hammer blows to fall against the Saviors, but the Kingdom, the latest community Jesus had introduced you to, had just decided to join in the fight after shit went sideways. You and Daryl had stayed there for a few days to help before heading back to Hilltop. The biggest relief was finding Carol safe and sound, although changed from how both you and Daryl remembered her. You knew it was weighing on the archer, but there was simply too much to do to spend more time there and try to figure out exactly what was going on...

The intel from Dwight so far had been untested but consistent. He was keeping you all apprised of the Saviors movements and what Negan seemed to be focused on. There had been some concern after the discovery of the bodies that you and Daryl had been responsible for out by the survivalist cache, but the Saviors seemed to think it was a chance one-off skirmish with some other group and no more heat had come your way. Of course, Negan continued to pressure and terrorize Rick and Alexandria, but they had been able to keep him placated so far with supplies. But that wasn’t going to last forever, and it was almost time to kick the hornets’ nest.

The fine weather, moderate temperatures and ample sunshine, were in harsh contrast to the anxiety and worry plaguing you as you all prepared for a war that you were sure would result in heavy losses. That particular day, Daryl found you down by the armory, helping to sort and finish weapons that had just come from the blacksmith. His tall frame darkened the doorway, and although Daryl was well aware of how worried you were, you still always had a smile for him. He stopped and leaned on the table across from you, drinking in the sight. “Hey.”

“Hey. What’s up?” you asked, setting aside some broadhead arrows.

“Ya still wanna do that pick-up from the ammo cache today?” he asked.

You nodded. “I think we have to.”

He straightened up and nodded. “Yeah. I think so too. I’ll get the gear and my bike. Ya about done here?” he asked.

“Done. Let me just drop these few off to be sharpened. I’ll meet you down by the gate.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod and headed to your trailer to collect the gear you would need. He was just about done, zipping up his pack, when he heard hurried footsteps coming up to the door, followed by urgent knocking.

Daryl spun and rushed to open it. Jesus was standing on the top step looking deeply concerned. “I think we might have a problem,” he said.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, when was the last time anybody saw the little weasel?” you asked, pacing the length of the trailer anxiously. Maggie, Sasha, and Enid were gathered too.

“That’s what I mean. I’m not even sure,” Jesus said. “He’s just been holing up in his office drinking lately. By the time I realized he wasn’t around anywhere I couldn’t even tell how long he’d been gone.”

Daryl let out a low growl. “We shoulda locked his ass up. Guarantee he’s runnin’ off to find some Saviors,” he roared.

Jesus looked dumbfounded. “I never thought he’d actually try something like this. He’ll be lucky if they don’t kill him.”

You rubbed your hands over your face and shut your eyes for a moment. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t go back and stop him, if that’s really what he’s up to. The only thing we can do now is prepare for what’s going to happen.” You met Daryl’s eyes. “Our timeline just accelerated. We need to get word to the Kingdom and Alexandria ASAP.”

Daryl nodded gravely, a shadow over his narrowed blue eyes. “Did he know ‘bout that radio of theirs we’ve got?”

“No. He definitely didn’t,” Jesus said.

“Well, at least there’s that,” Maggie said. “I’ll handle gettin’ the volunteers here all armed and come up with a final defense plan. I’m sure they’re gonna be knockin’ sooner rather than later.”

Sasha shook her head, anger plain on her face. “I’ll set extra watches on the wall. Thank God we didn’t cut him in on our plans.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed, straightening up. “Never trusted the bastard. If I see him, he’s a dead man. We’ve got one thing goin’ for us at least. They’re gonna think we ain’t armed or prepared at all. They’re gonna think they’ll be surprising us, but they’re wrong.”

Jesus sighed heavily. “I’ll contact Rick and The Kingdom and then stay glued to that radio. If I hear anything, anything at all, I’ll make the rounds.”

You all had your plans and you watched as everyone cleared out of the trailer. Daryl turned to see you frozen and your face dark with worry.

He moved around the table and stopped in front of you, his hands reflexively landing gently on your hips. “Hey. This ain’t it. It ain’t over,” he said.

You nodded and met his blue eyes. “I know. That’s what scares me. It’s just starting. All the—all the death and destruction is coming. It’s like being on a set of train tracks with a locomotive bearing down and nowhere to go.” Your eyes turned downward, but not fast enough to hide the glassiness in them.

“Hey.” Daryl gently clasped your face and your wide eyes met his again. “Everything is gonna be alright.”

“You don’t know that…”

Daryl nodded and brushed a strand of your hair away from your face. “Ya. I do. ‘Cuz we’ve been makin’ these plans, and they’re all good. Smart. It’s like ya said. Timeline gets bumped up, but they ain’t winnin’. And I will do everything I have to, to keep ya safe. You and every one of our people.”

There was still some seed of doubt in your eyes, but your fear seemed to have diminished some and you nodded before looping your arms around his neck and hugging him against you tightly. Daryl sank into you, breathing in the semi-sweet scent of your hair and smoothing his hands over your back. “I’ve got you,” you murmured into the crook of his neck. Even despite the bad news, Daryl couldn’t help but smile.

“Mhm. And I got ya.” He was still bewildered by your constancy and how each of you seemed to carry the other when you most needed it. It was a give and take he had hardly known in his life. There were no strings attached, no deals or bargaining. You were just there.

The rest of the evening was chaotic as you rushed around preparing for what could come at any moment, but it was almost midnight and still there was no word over the radio that the Saviors were moving.

“If he went on foot, he won’t be anywhere near the closest Savior outpost until tomorrow. And that’s assuming he somehow manages to survive,” Jesus said.

You glanced toward the gate and the inky blackness beyond. “Closest ones we know about…” you said quietly.

Daryl shifted a little anxiously, your worry being his. “Jesus is right though. We best try and get some sleep while we can. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

You sighed, but Daryl saw you soften. “Yeah.” You placed a friendly hand on Jesus’ shoulder. “Wake us up if you hear a single peep over that radio.”

He gave you a tight smile and nodded. “You got it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Daryl drawled, falling into stride behind you back to the trailer. He shut the door behind himself and simply watched you drifting about the space for a moment, getting ready for bed. You felt his eyes on you and paused, turning to read his expression.

“What are you thinking?” you asked the archer.

He shrugged and drifted toward you. “Nothin’. Tryin’ not to.”

You nodded and turned to face him, unable to stand the space between you any longer. You pushed the curtain of dark hair framing his face out of eyes and gently rested your hand lightly along his jaw. “You’re so strong, Daryl. Whatever else happens, I at least know you’re gonna come through this just fine. Hell, you’ll probably be the one to put Negan in the ground.”

“Hey.” He grabbed your hand in both of his, and marveled at how small and fragile it felt, despite how strong he knew you were too. “ What’d I tell ya? We are gonna be just fine.” He pressed your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. You smiled at the forcefulness of his assertion followed by the tenderness of his action afterwards. “C’mon. Let’s at least try and catch a little sleep.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bed and you were eager to comply, falling down heavily with your head on the pillow. Daryl moved behind you until he could press his body against you. This time he was the one who moved until he could tangle his legs with yours. He draped an arm over your waist and his fingers tickled against the bare skin of your side, exposed by the way your t-shirt was draping. His hand suddenly sought more of that contact, pressing lightly, skin to skin.

You smiled at the sensation and your heart raced a little with him seeking that intimacy.

“S’this alright?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, smoothing your hand over the back of his and pulling him more tightly against you. You shut your eyes and breathed out your tension. You felt Daryl relaxing against you too, and despite all the fear and anxiety of the day, you both were soon fast asleep, feeling safe and like you were safely at home.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By the time the sun was up, you and Daryl were both awake and busy. And it wasn’t long before Jesus came striding up with a grave expression on his face, the radio in his hand. You felt your stomach twist. “What is it? Are they coming?”

He only nodded. “They’re moving out this afternoon.”

“To where?” Daryl asked gruffly. “Just here?”

“I think so,” Jesus said. “I haven’t heard any mention of Alexandria. But if Gregory did make it and did spill everything he knows, they’ll be heading there eventually.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you for a brief moment before you steeled yourself again. You brought forward the image of your brother in your mind. You thought of the workers trapped in the Sanctuary with no way out, of Negan’s ‘wives’, of everything he had done to Daryl and to you and countless others… And your fear and anxiety didn’t dissipate, but it took a backseat to determination and anger. You gulped. “Fine. Good. Let them come. We’re ready.”

Daryl felt a swell of admiration for you and he nodded. “We are. That’s what all these plans have been for.” He glanced back at you, knowing you weren’t going to like the next thing he was going to say. “I gotta go check the drop-off location. Dwight might have more info,” he drawled.

A shadow darkened your expression. “What? Now? Daryl, they’re headed our way!”

“I gotta check. It was the plan. He’d get us word if shit was kicking off.”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t like it. You’re gonna go out there? What if—what if you can’t get back in time. What if—”

Jesus seemed to sense that the two of you needed a moment. “I’ll go start spreading the word, get everyone to their assignments.” He rushed off, leaving you behind staring at Daryl with renewed worry.

“Daryl, you can’t—”

He gulped, admittedly not liking the idea of separating from you while you were all seemingly standing on the threshold of potentially the hardest fight of your lives. But he had to go. He had to check. What if there was information waiting that would save lives? What if the Saviors somehow had found out you had that radio and this was going to be misdirection? “I gotta go. This was the plan.”

“Fine, then I’m coming with you!”

“Nah. Ya can’t. Everybody needs ya here. There’s too much to do to get ready.” He paused to read your expression. You looked pissed. “Ya know I’m right.”

You were wrestling with another upwelling of fear. But this was Daryl. He was a warrior. And he needed to do this. It wasn’t fair for you to try and selfishly keep him behind the walls with you when there could be critical information waiting out there. You sighed and shut your eyes for a moment and nodded. “Okay… alright.” You pointed at him vehemently. “But you come back in one piece, Daryl Dixon! I mean it!”

He couldn’t help but smile a little at you. Your tone reminded him of so many times you had scolded him for ignoring an injury or being stubborn. He nudged his nose up at you. “I will. I’ll come back to ya. Promise.”

Your anxiety wasn’t relieved but you nodded. “Okay… Come here,” you said, your tone softened.

That was all Daryl needed. He paced over to you, chewing his bottom lip a little thoughtfully, and just waited for your touch. Your hands rested lightly on his sides and you looked up and met his blue eyes.

“I mean it. Come back.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “I will.” His arms looped around your lower back and pulled you against him. He watched, still amazed every time, as you shut your eyes and arched up onto your toes so your lips met his. Your kiss was gentle and soft at first, but he deepened it, tangling his fingers in your hair and relished the way your lips moved effortlessly with his, the taste of you and feel of you all he needed. When you finally broke apart, your eyes stayed linked with is for a long moment.

“Be careful,” was all you could whisper. Daryl nodded and slipped from you, heading for his bike by the gate. You crossed your arms over your chest like a shield, still feeling the ghost of his hands and lips on you, and watched his broad shoulders until they disappeared.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You purposely kept yourself so busy you hardly had a moment to think while Daryl was outside the walls. You were stocking ammo at strategic locations around Hilltop when Maggie came bounding up to you with a relieved smile.

“He’s back,” she said.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding since he left. You nodded and murmured a thank you, before glancing at the pile of supplies you were sorting. She laughed. “I got it. Go on,” she said kindly, taking your place.

You reached him as he was climbing off his bike and Daryl gave you a smile that made your heart jump. “How’d it go?” you asked, nervous to hear what info he had, if any.

“No problems. Couple walkers,” he said with a shrug.

“And nobody saw you? And you didn’t see anyone?” He shook his head.

“Not that I know of. I was careful,” he drawled. “Got somethin’ though.” His tone changed. There was tension in his voice and it made the gravel more pronounced.

You felt your throat constrict with nerves. “Okay. What is it?”

Daryl pulled out a small piece of paper, left in the agreed upon location by Dwight. “He’ll be here.”

“Negan,” you said. It wasn’t a question

Daryl nodded. “Mhm,” he hummed. He looked about how you felt. Determined, disgusted, and angry.

You nodded. “Okay. So, he’ll be here. So, what? Doesn’t change anything,” you said. Daryl was watching you carefully, worried with the realization that this would be the first time you’d have to see him since busting out of the Sanctuary. It would be like if his own father suddenly showed up at the gates. It would be understandable if you were a bit apprehensive or shaken up at the idea. But instead, to his continued amazement, you just looked pissed. Maybe you were trying to hide how much it was affecting you, but Daryl couldn’t see anything other than determined anger. He licked his lips a little nervously and nodded. “They ain’t comin’ to fight. This time. They’re comin’ to give us a chance to give up. Probably think that once we realize Gregory has snitched that we’ll fold.”

You scoffed. “Not gonna happen.”

Daryl glanced down at the paper in his hands one more time. “They’re goin’ to Alexandria tomorrow. Same thing. After that, they’ll get ready to fight us if we don’t give up.”

You nodded. “I guess it’s really starting then.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.” He reached out and laced his fingers with yours. “But we’re ready.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“I don’t understand why we’re here to chat instead of hitting them before they know what’s coming,” Simon said vehemently, matching Negan’s long strides as they approached the heavy wooden gate to Hilltop.

Negan turned a piercing glare to his lieutenant. “People. Are. A resource,” he growled. “Dead people don’t work for me, do they, Simon? They don’t gather supplies. They don’t work in the Sanctuary. They don’t do a damn thing except rot in the sun or feed the dead, do they? There is a goddamn good reason why I am in charge instead of you. And this is the last time I’m going to remind you of that. In fact you should be grateful you aren’t out on the fence after all of this was happening right under your oversized nose.” The look on his face was dangerous, vicious, his lip almost curling.

Simon hung his thumbs in his belt and averted his gaze down toward his boots. “Right. Sorry.” But he was biting back anger.

“Don’t question me again,” Negan growled, pointing at Simon with his trusty sidekick, the barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat he called Lucille. Negan of course knew that all of you inside knew he was already there, but he raised a cheerful sounding hello at the gate. “Hello! The Saviors are here!”

Two guards appeared over the top of the fence, glaring down at the convoy of trucks and assembled men. “Ah, there we go. Would you mind opening the gates and letting us in?” Negan asked, keeping his manufactured charm thick.

“We won’t be letting you in. Not today. And not ever again.” This was a new voice, and Sasha appeared over the top of the fence now too, her trusty rifle clutched in hand.

Negan laughed and grinned up at her. “Oh, I remember you,” he said. “Well, is there someone else here I could have a civilized conversation with? There are some very important matters that need discussing.”

“Everyone in here will tell you the same thing,” Sasha spat back at him. “And that’s ‘Go to Hell.””

There was a quick flash of rage in Negan’s eyes, like a lightning bolt, but it was gone immediately and replaced with another charming smile. He laughed loudly. “Oh, come on, now! I know just who you have in there that I would just love to talk to! WHERE’S MY DARYL AT?!” he roared. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”

Sasha only glared down at Negan in disgust.

“Huh. Not very friendly, are they, Simon?”

“Not friendly at all, Negan,” Simon answered.

“I don’t know what you think you’re hiding back there,” Negan said, gesturing toward the gate with Lucille. “Because I have all the inside information I could possibly want courtesy of one of yours.” Negan snapped his fingers. “Dwight! Bring my best friend Gregory out here!”

Gregory was pushed forward through the crowd and Dwight grabbed his elbow and led him forward.

“You see, Gregory here has already told me that The Hilltop and Alexandria are working together. And I know that there are some more of you Alexandrians hiding out here while Rick the Prick is back there plotting my downfall with enthusiasm. But the thing is you can’t win. We are better prepared, and better supplied, and there are simply more of US. So, I thought we’d come on down here and give you one. last. chance. to do the right thing and fall back in line.” He paused and looked thoughtful, keeping up his charming, amiable act up until this very last part. “Because if you don’t, we will rain death and hellfire down on you. And believe me when I say that I do not want to do that. But I will.”

You and Daryl were backed up against the outer wall on the guard stand, right beside Sasha, keeping out of sight. But Daryl saw just a split second before you did it that you were barely keeping your anger in check.

“Y/N—Don’t—” he whispered harshly.

But you couldn’t just hide anymore. You stood up and peered over the wall, immediately meeting Negan’s eyes.

You were surprised to see that he looked surprised. “We’re not taking any more of your bullshit, Negan. You’re done. This is your last chance to walk away.”

But instead of responding to what you were saying, Negan was simply peering at you for a long moment before he resumed his usual persona. “You have got to be kidding me! Y/N? My wife is with you people?” He clicked his tongue and clenched his jaw. “Ain’t that just a kick in the crotch? And here I was thinking that you just took advantage of the chaos of my Daryl breaking out to escape again… You always were the type to get restless. But it seems maybe I need reevaluate that chain of events!”

Negan seized the back of Gregory’s neck hard and yanked him forward. “You know, it’s funny, because I specifically remember asking for the names of everyone hiding out in Hilltop and Y/N, your name, never came up,” he growled.

Gregory was shaking from head to toe. “I—I’m sorry! I got her name wrong! I didn’t remember—”

Negan looked like he was ready to strangle Gregory when your laughter broke through his pleading. Negan’s eyes shot back to your face. “That should give you some idea of the quality of information you’re working with from him. You might want to rethink things,” you said, leaning on the top of the fence casually, like you were discussing the weather.

You knew that if there was one thing Negan hated more than anyone defying him, it was being made to look weak.

He ran his thumb thoughtfully over his bottom lip as he stared up at you.

“You cocky little bitch,” Simon suddenly drew his pistol and pointed it straight at you.

You didn’t even flinch, but Sasha and the two other guards all had their guns to their shoulders and aimed right back at Simon.

Negan was furious as he turned toward his lieutenant. Simon felt Negan’s eyes like they were burning a hole in his skull and he waivered. Negan spoke to him through a growl. “Put your goddamn gun down. Now. I told you, she comes back to me alive.” Simon lowered his gun.

You felt your stomach twist. You weren’t sure whether Negan had meant for it to be heard or not, but the effect on you was an instantaneous, overwhelming sick feeling. You managed to keep your expression blank, but you knew that if Negan did ever get you back alive, you would be in for a fate worse than death.

Daryl’s hands landed lightly on your hips from behind and he gently pulled you slightly back, stepping forward, protectively putting his body in front of yours, glaring Negan down.

Negan noticed and it was like he suddenly flipped a switch back to his old persona. He grinned and chuckled. “Daryl, Daryl, Daryl…” He took in how close the two of you were standing, how Daryl was guarding you, and he realized… “So, what’s this? You two? You’re together? Really? Daryl, you and Y/N? I mean, I don’t know, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense to me.” He chuckled again as he watched Daryl’s chest heave with angry breaths.

“Wow. Alright. I don’t get it but, hey, some women like dumpster diving.” You watched Daryl’s entire body tense and you laced your fingers with his, resting your other hand on his arm, wishing more than anything that you could just shoot Negan in the fucking head right at that moment.

Negan knew what effect he was having on Daryl. He saw it. And he went on, grinning. “Did she tell you about all the things we did together? Dirty, dirty things…” He bit his bottom lip and cultivated a starry-eyed and vague smile on his face, remembrance. “And she is either a fantastic actress, or she was having just as much fun as I was, because I really didn’t have to do any convincing. I mean, she is good… I still dream about it and wake up rock hard…” he trailed off, grinning widely as he saw your face burning with anger and humiliation. You couldn’t help but be extremely aware of the fact that the entire Hilltop community was standing right behind the gate, listening to every word exchanged. You felt like you’d just been outed. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his fist clenching.

“Oh my God,” Negan laughed, his eyebrows lifting. “Don’t tell me you two haven’t fucked yet?” He chewed his bottom lip, nodding, knowing exactly how much this was torturing both of you. “Oh, Daryl. You don’t know what you’re missing! This is some biblical level shit. I’m talking Whore of Babylon! I mean, really, you have no idea what—” But Negan had to duck as Daryl pulled his gun and fired a shot that whizzed just past his head and struck the truck behind him. Instantly, about fifty guns were aimed your way. The archer’s chest was heaving with anger as he glared through the drifting cloud of gun smoke. And this time when Negan straightened back up, the cocky smile and manufactured charm was gone. His eyes were dark and cold with rage. “Now, that—that was a mistake, Daryl.”

“Nah. You made the mistake,” Daryl growled. “And ya will pay for it.”

[drabbles-mc]

Starting Over

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Combining two Anonymous requests for this: reader is Jax's younger sister, and with Juicey boi. Stuck fiercely with him through Potter. Douchebag! Anyway, so. It's just after Tara, and Juice has gone MIA. As soon as reader hears Jax wants Juice, she goes to find him - obviously get's pointed to him by Wendy (not Gem because she knows what she'll do). When she goes to Juice, he tries to scare her off, but she gives him some lip, then maybe some smut - then she takes him far away, never to return! & can I get a Juice x Female reader where she finds out that Jax wants Juice after he goes MIA, and she's been with Juice for ages without the boys knowing - and she realises that Juice is in danger, so she manages to find out where he is, and she goes there, has some fluffy/angst time with Juice, before pulling him into her car and driving off to take him away and completely leave Charming and the sons behind. Maybe a fluffy pregnancy reveal too? Ultimately, must save Juice and protecc

Warnings: language, angst, slight steam

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Figured that these two requests ran pretty parallel to each other so I combined them! Only thing I didn’t do was full-on smut because it didn’t really fit with the whole mood of everything. But we gettin’ Juice outta his mess for sure. Enjoy! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @mayans-sauce​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @xladymacbethx​ @kkim120​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

Things had been falling apart for the club for a while. Growing up in the middle of it had exposed you to a lot, but even so this was the most chaotic it had been in your lifetime. You couldn’t blame it all on Jax, knowing that things started crumbling long before your brother took his seat at the head of the table. But there was a lot more frustration there between the two of you than there used to be.

That rising tension was the original reason that you never told Jax, or anyone in the club for that matter, that you had gotten involved with Juice. It had sort of just fallen together. There was something about him that you couldn’t pull yourself away from, no matter how far he seemed to spiral. His life was just as messy as yours, if not messier, which was another reason the two of you decided to keep things quiet—it was supposed to cut down on the mess.

However, once you noticed that Jax’s feelings about Juice took a turn, you got nervous. Ever since Tara was murdered, he was on a warpath. You couldn’t necessarily blame him, but Juice was on thin ice as it was and you weren’t going to let him become another casualty if you could help it. You didn’t lose him in the depths of things with Potter, you weren’t going to lose him now.

You had looked everywhere for him. You scoured all of Charming but he was nowhere to be found. You stopped by his place, and immediately noticed that certain things were missing. His place wasn’t cleaned out, but you could tell that he packed the essentials to make a quick getaway. Your heart sunk inside your chest as you tried to strategize how to find out where he was. There was a short list of people you felt like you could trust to ask who wouldn’t blow up your spot to the rest of the club.

You found yourself on Gemma’s doorstep. For as much as you loved your mother, she was the last person that you wanted to talk to about this. You did, however, know that she and Wendy were close these days, and that anything Gemma knew about Juice, she might’ve pipelined to Wendy. It was a long-shot but she was the only person you had left that you felt like you could talk to without exposing yourself, or Juice.

Gemma opened the door, “Hey, sweetheart, everything alright?” she hugged you once you stepped inside.

You nodded, “Yea, all good. I just, uh, is Wendy here?”

You could see the gears turning in Gemma’s mind, “Yea, why?”

You shook your head, “Nothin’ I just wanted to talk to her about some counseling stuff,” you tried to play it off, “One of Lyla’s girls is a little,” you shook your hand slightly, “Rocky right now. Just wanted to get her opinion on some stuff. That’s all.”

You’d gotten good at lying to Gemma—it was the only way to have any semblance of privacy. She nodded, convinced for the time being, “She’s in the guest room with the boys. Send them out before you start talking about that shit though, alright?”

You nodded, “Of course.”

You made your way back to the room, politely sending your nephews on their way before shutting the door, allowing you and Wendy your privacy. Confusion was written all over her face as you sat on the bed with her. You took a deep breath as you tried to get your thoughts together, praying that this wouldn’t backfire on you.

“You know where Juice is?” there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Why would I know that?” she couldn’t meet your eyes, and you knew that she was trying to hide something.

“I know the club wants him dead,” you paused, correcting yourself, “I know Jax wants him dead. I just…I just wanna help him.”

“You wanna help Juice?” she clearly didn’t buy it.

You ran your hands down your face, not able to fault her for being skeptical, “Jax might be my brother but that doesn’t mean that I blindly support everything he does. I’m not my mother,” you shook your head, “Juice can’t survive this on his own. He needs someone.”

“You?”

You took a deep breath, knowing you’d already put yourself in a pretty deep hole. What was the harm in digging yourself a little deeper? You met Wendy’s eyes, “I’ve been with Juice for a while now. Way before all this other shit started. I can’t…I can’t let Jax get to him.”

Wendy pressed her lips together into a thin line. She knew as well as anyone what your family was like. It was a wonder that you turned out the way you did. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, “He’s at my place. That’s…that’s why I’m still here.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Y-your place?”

She nodded, “Gemma was banking on me staying in rehab way longer. Figured it was a free, empty place for him to stay. I wasn’t gonna kick him to the streets when the club wants his head on a goddamn stake. So…he’s still there.”

You leaned in a hugged her, for the first time in a long time. It felt a little foreign at first but she leaned into you for a moment and accepted it. You pulled away, trying to fight back the tears that were stinging at the edges of your eyes, “Thank you. Seriously.”

She nodded, “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

You both got a quiet laugh out of that. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you stood up. Before opening the door, you turned back to Wendy, “If Gemma asks, I asked you about some rehab counseling shit for one of Lyla’s girls.”

She nodded, “Got it,” there was a brief pause, “Take care of him. He needs it.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything more as you left the room. You made your way back through the house, giving your nephews hugs and kisses goodbye before saying goodbye to Gemma as well. You tried not to let your anxiety shine through as you tried to put together some semblance of a plan.

You raced back to your place and packed a few bags. You grabbed the few things that Juice had left at your apartment over the last few months, not wanting to leave any trace of that behind once you were gone. You packed the essentials, grabbed your emergency stash of cash, and then hit the road to get to Wendy’s place.

You knocked relentlessly on the door. When there was no answer, you finally spoke up, “It’s me, Juice.”

Seconds later Juice opened the door, gun in his hand by his side. You could see it written all over his face that he was spinning out. You took a deep breath as you stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. You immediately stepped in and wrapped him in a hug, your heart breaking at the way he practically fell into your embrace like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

After a few moments, you pulled away from him. You could see it in his eyes how lost he was. You reached out, gently cupping his face, “We gotta go.”

“What?” he looked confused.

“We gotta go. We gotta get out of here. You can’t stay here.”

“Yea but…but you can’t go with me.”

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear him say it so definitively. “Why not?”

“Because you’re Jax Teller’s fucking sister,” he snapped, “You can’t just…leave Charming. You can’t just leave. Especially not with someone the club wants dead. They, they won’t stop until they find you. Or me.”

“They’re not going to find us.”

“You’re an escape artist now?”

You scoffed, “I don’t think that you’re in a position to be criticizing. It took me one day to find you.”

He gnawed at the inside of his lip, “You can’t do this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“That’s a risk that I’m willing to take.”

“Well I’m not,” he shook his head, “You’re not putting yourself out on the line like that for me. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?” your laugh was hollow, “Let me? You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. I grew up under Gemma’s fucking thumb—I’m done getting bossed around by other people. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t come with you.”

“Yes, Y/N, I do. You’re not throwing your whole life away for me.”

“I’m not throwing it away! I don’t want a life here in Charming if you’re not in it.”

“They will never forgive you for leaving.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Y/N,” he sounded angry but you could see the tears in his eyes. He turned away love every chance he could, not wanting to deal with the heartbreak that followed, “You can’t leave. Not with me. Not for me. I’m…I’m not worth the fallout.”

“Yes you are,” you stepped in and cupped his face once more, “You are worth whatever it takes. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, tears escaping down onto his cheeks, “I love you too.”

You pulled his lips to yours, catching them in a rough, needy kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, like it was the last time he was ever going to be able to touch you. His tongue ran along the inside of your lip before meeting yours. You moaned, fingers pressing into the back of his neck. His hands slid underneath your shirt, nails raking lightly along the soft skin of your back.

You pulled away, breathless as you rested your forehead against his. He gave you a light squeeze, “I love you.”

You smiled despite the heaviness of the situation that you were in, “I love you too.”

“We can finish this when we get to wherever we’re going,” he chuckled, and it was nice to see him smile.

You nodded, pulling away from him a little bit, “Right, right,” you took a deep breath as you looked around Wendy’s place, “You got a bag packed?”

He turned and walked towards the closet, digging around before resurfacing with a duffle bag that was bursting at the seams. You looked at the kutte that was draped across the top of it and your heart broke. Leaving Samcro behind was going to be a big shift for the both of you—it was all you’d ever known, and it was all the family Juice had anymore.

He saw the look in your eyes and the tears returned to his. You shook your head slightly, “You gotta leave it, baby. Nothing good is gonna come from you keeping that.”

He nodded even though he didn’t want to admit it, “I know.”

He gripped the leather tight in his hand for a few moments before laying it on the end of Wendy’s couch. You nodded in approval, pulling him towards you and kissing him softly on the lips to let him know that it was going to be okay.

“You sure you wanna do this?” his voice wavered a little, “There’s…there’s no coming back from this.”

You nodded, “I’m sure,” you tangled your fingers with his, “Let’s go.”

The two of you packed what little you had into the trunk of your car. You situated yourself in the driver’s seat before turning to look at Juice. Worry was still present in his features but you could tell that even despite that, he was glad that you were there with him  

You reached over, taking his hand in your own, “We're gonna be alright. We're going to figure all of this out. We'll be safe,” you paused, “Do you trust me?”

He nodded, no hesitation in his response, “With my life,” he paused for s few moments, “You’re really willing to leave behind your family for me?”

“You’re my family,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Juice?”

“Yea?” his eyes searched yours, trying to guess what you were going to say next.

“I mean it, you know. You’re my guy. My family.”

His smile as soft, sincere, “You’re my family too.”

“I know now might not be the best time,” you chuckled nervously, “But really when do we ever have a right time for anything, right?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m…I’m not going to be your only family for much longer,” you couldn’t hold back your nervous laughter as you took his hand and rested it on your stomach, “A fresh start is going to be good for all of us.”

His eyes widened as he realized what you were telling him. A smile broke out across his face as he leaned over and kissed you hard on the lips. He’d never been more ready to run off with you than he was in that moment.

“Alright,” he chuckled, unable to believe the situation he was in, “let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”

You smiled, kissing him once more softly on the lips, “Let’s go.”

You threw the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. As you took off, Juice's hand came to rest on your thigh, “I love you.”

You smiled, glancing over at him for a moment, “I love you too.”

Your eyes made their way back to the road in front of you. Letting out a deep sigh, you let yourself soak up the fact that you were on your way to somewhere new, with the only person who really mattered, the only person who ever really tried to look out for you these days. Charming faded out of your rearview mirror and you had never felt more relieved, despite the uncertainty that laid ahead. All of the anxiety though., faded away when you felt Juice's thumb tracing back and forth on your leg. You had faith that the next chapter was really going to be the start of a whole new book, just for the three of you.