#lock em in a cell and have them fight to the death they have both caused so much destruction and death

[simplegenius042]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by @sloanhistoryzone

[nastybuckybarnes]

Hoist the Colours  -  1/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader

Summary: Bound to your human form and cut off from the sea, your life is exchanged from pirate to pirate, until a ship of the King intercepts a sale, taking you onboard and saving you from a fate worse than death. 

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Kinda slow burn

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long so I figured meh, what the hell. It’s mega inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End cause Calypso owns my uwu and I love the story of her and Davy Jones. Um, I hope you enjoy! 

~*~

His hands gently caress your skin, gentle with you, a stark contrast to the man who rules the seas. He treats you as if you're delicate, though he knows you're not.

His touches are so, so tender.

"I love you, my (Y/n)."

Fingers skimming over your back, trailing over your spine and down your legs. His hold on your body is soft, while the hold on your heart is strong.

"I love you, James.  My love for you will never die. You hold my heart in your hands." He holds the back of your head with one hand, tilting you back a bit so he can look into your eyes, crystal blue depths pouring out emotions while saying few words.

"You have my heart, and you shall continue to have it until the day I die."

~

“Are we ready to set sail, Captain?” The young man looks up through his lashes, squinting against the harsh sun and the spray of the sea.

“Aye, I think we’re ready. What say you, James?” The blond man looks to his first mate, who stands by the edge of the ship, staring out across the open water with a small smile on his face.

“The wind will be with us today. Our journey will be bountiful. There’s a change in the tide, a new dawn on the horizon.” Steve grabs his friend’s shoulder, looking into his eyes.

“I can feel her, Steve. We’re getting close. I know it.” The blond smiles and looks over to the boy, nodding once.

“All hands, prepare to make sail!” He shouts, running down the stairs to alert the rest of the crew.

Steve walks over to his helmsman, patting him on the shoulder.

“Where to today, Captain?” Sam asks with a grin.

“We head for Tortuga,” he says, glancing over at James. The brunet nods, eyes focused on the sea.

~*~

“All hands! Battle Stations!”

You shift to your knees on the hard wooden bed, looking out through the tiny porthole.

“What is it?” Wanda asks, her voice scratchy and hoarse.

“The Royal Navy,” you whisper, bound hands grabbing handfuls of your dress to move it out of the way, allowing you to sit more comfortably to watch as the three ships converge on the one you’re currently imprisoned upon.

“What will they make of us?” She wonders aloud, fingers spinning dainty red circles in the air. You bite your lip, knowing too well what they’ll make of you.

“Our chances of survival are higher with them than with our current captors.” She shrugs, lying back down as cannons boom overhead.

You close your eyes, exhaling deeply through your nose and conjuring what you can.

It’s effective, and the sky is soon booming with thunder. The ocean tugs and turns, waves crashing against the ship, the fighting getting drowned by the rain.

You hear the tell-tale thuds of the ship being boarded, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re transferred from one cage to another. But you hope that the new cage will be slightly more comfortable.

Two sets of feet clomp down the stairs and you and Wanda both sit up.

A man wearing the signature red and gold of the King walks towards you.

A young boy, easily no older than sixteen, stumbles after him.

“Boy!” He shouts, turning to him. He cowers, clearly not wanting to get hurt.

“Why are these women in chains?” He demands. The boy looks at you, his eyes widening for a moment before he swallows hard.

“C-cap’n says that they be witches. He locked ‘em down here to protect the crew. Said it bad luck to bed them.” The King’s man stares at you then at Wanda.

“Witches? How?” The boy’s fingers tremble as he points to Wanda.

“Th-that one there, she be a true witch. With red flames and a sixth sense. She can control men to do her bidding. Cap’n locked ‘er up with them special chains, keeps her powers at bay.” Wanda’s eyes glow a fiery red as she’s reminded of the mistreatment the Captain has shown the two of you.

“And this one here?” The man steps closer to your cell door, eyeing you closely.

“She be of godly descent. Power over the wind and tide, no doubt the conjurer of the storm. She be tied to the ocean and the ocean to her. She controls the monsters, the demons that lurk in the deep. Cap’n treated her better than any woman deserves, but he stopped, got lazy. And this is her punishin’ us for it. You mark my words. She created that storm.”

The man cocks his head to the side in curiosity.

“Bring them over. The boy too. The King will want to hear about this.” The boy quickly unlocks your cells, and then you’re being ushered up the stairs and above deck.

The sky, which was dark and dangerous nought five minutes ago, is clear and blue. Dead bodies lay askew on the deck, blood staining the wood.

The men of the King stop and stare as you and Wanda are ushered towards the gangplank.

A man whistles, his hand coming to your shoulder, and you wrench yourself out of his grip, levelling him with a hard glare as a boom of thunder explodes overhead, a crack of lightning touching down on the water beside the ship.

Everyone is silent, the Captain staring at you in wonder and awe.

“No one is to touch the women,” he announces loudly, making sure all his crew can hear.

“They are to be treated with the utmost respect. Do not touch them. Do not even look at them in the wrong way, understand?”

He’s met with a series of “aye captain”s.

You square your shoulders and cross the plank, Wanda right behind you.

The two of you are then promptly led to a small office.

“The Captain will be with you shortly,” the man says, closing the doors and standing outside, his back to you. You glance at your friend and nod slightly, a silent ‘I told you so’. She rolls her eyes and looks around the room.

“He means to bring us to the King. We will no doubt be exploited for our powers yet again. There is no way we win this.” You shake your head, eyes finding a paper on his desk.

Anthony Edward Stark.

The name rings a bell, but before you can put your finger on it, the door is opening and the Captain walks in.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m the Captain. Tony is what my friends call me. I suppose you may call me that as well. So... witches. Do you have names?” You’re shocked, and it’s obvious on your face by the way that the man laughs.

“We’re not barbaric. It’s obvious to me that you were being held captive on the HYDRA ship. You may as well get comfortable here with me.” Wanda stays standing by the door, but you approach him.

“I am (Y/n). This is Wanda. What do you plan on doing with us?” He sighs heavily and sits down at his desk, pouring himself a glass of alcohol.

“I plan on continuing my route as I was supposed to. We’re to make port in Tortuga for some business, then we head back to England.” You furrow your brows.

“Why not take us back to England now?” Wanda asks, her eyes red with suspicion.

“Because anytime away from the King is time I cherish. And I think the two of you will make excellent company.” He smiles, winking at you.

The glass in his hand shatters and he curses, jumping up and away from his desk.

“Not that kind of company! Jesus! I just meant that I would like to learn more about your powers.” You look over at Wanda, whose glowing eyes are trained on Tony.

“And how do we know you won’t treat us the same way they all did?” She asks, her voice a venomous whisper.

He sighs and looks at the two of you for a moment, his eyes lingering on your necklace.

“Because. My mother was like you two. A sea witch, born with powers unparalleled. And I saw what men did to her for it. I will not let that happen to you as well.” The two of you are surprised at his words. Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before he clears his throat.

“I’ll see to it that the two of you have proper quarters, as well as changes of clothes. And I humbly welcome you to His Majesty, the King’s, esteemed ship: The Avenger.”

~

“Jesus Christ,” Steve whispers, taking off his hat in respect as they approach the wreckage in the water.

Sharks are circling, picking at any scraps of human flesh that they can find. Ship splinters and rope pollute the water, and the crew instantly know that this is the work of the King’s men.

“A quick fight,” James says, watching from the quarterdeck. Steve nods, curious about the events that transpired.

“Man overboard!” Someone shouts, and all eyes are searching for the body in question.

They see the subtle splashing, the man’s body mostly on a large piece of wood from the mast.

“Haul him up!” Steve shouts, hurrying to the spot to make sure the man’s okay.

When they finally get him over, he’s nothing but coughs and water, fingers trembling as he regains his bearings.

“What’s your name?” Steve asks, patting the young man on the shoulder.

When he finally looks up, everyone gasps. “It was the witch,” he whispers, blackened eyes darting around in fear.

“Witch?” Steve asks. This piques Bucky’s interest.

“Sh-she called the storm. Dragged the ship down down down, and now she goes on the celebrate with the King.” Bucky pushes forward, grabbing the man by the collar.

“The witch, what was her name?” The man shakes his head, eyes lolling to the side.

“Never name, only a witch. Never trust a woman... she be beautiful as a sunrise but deadly as a snake. I’d rather face a siren than that witch again. She owns the seas, is one with the winds, and she has a hatred in her heart for men.” The man stops to cough up water, his eyes rolling back as he starts convulsing.

Bucky stumbles back a step, his heart pounding in his head.

“Buck?” He shakes his head, climbing up the ladder on the mainmast to the crow’s nest. His eyes strain to see anything, any sign of where he should go.

What he sees leaves him feeling more hopeless than before.

Three of the king’s ships, on the very edge of the horizon, each going in separate directions.

He takes a deep breath in then climbs back down, furious with himself all over again.

“Buck? What the hell was that?” Steve demands, grabbing his best friend’s arm.

“It’s her, Steve.” Those three words are all it takes for Steve to understand.

“Which way did she go?” He asks softly, trying to help his friend.

“I’ve got no clue. There were three ships, all heading in different directions. There’s no way to know which ship has her, and we can’t very well follow all of them.” Steve sighs, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“We’ll find her. I swear. But until then we maintain course.” The brunet nods, eyes finding the wreckage in the water and praying to the gods that he finds you soon.

~

Tears wet your cheeks as you stare at the locket, fingers stroking the cool metal gently.

“If the memories pain you so, why conjure them so frequently?” You glance over at the brunette, wiping the wetness off of your face.

“Without the pain, I would forget my hatred. I would forget my purpose and I would lose hope.” Wanda nods thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall and sighing.

The quarters you were given are lovely. Soft beds, plenty of blankets, and a door with a lock. It’s all you could ask for and more from a ship belonging to the king.

“What do you suppose he’s going to do with us?” Wanda asks, fingers spinning a quill in the air above her head.

“I’m not sure quite yet. He seems to be genuine, but I fear he has ulterior motives. Surely, he’ll bring us to the king at some point. But until then... I only hope we fair better here than our last ship.” She nods, closing her eyes and lowering her hands, the quill dropping to the floor beside her as she spreads her fingers, red seeping out of her hands and down through the floorboards.

“There’s a change in the tide,” she whispers, her eyes opening and glowing red as she glances over at you. “Can you feel it?” You close your eyes, feeling the pull of the ocean deep in your gut.

“I feel it,” you whisper, “a change in the wind. A new presence is upon the waters, a dark one. I fear they are stronger than they seem.”

[yanderenightmare]

bitchy bratty catty pretty-girl who gives fuck-all, the school tries to straighten her ways by introducing her to a temporary captured shiggy, who is soooo fucking pissed off at this smug pretty bitch, going to track her down and make her pay!!!! >-< plez Mizz Nightmare

yandere kidnapper ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, profanity, bullying, anxiety, drugging, kidnapping, abduction

CUTTHROAT

“Wow! Right for the kill?! You’re real cutthroat.”

She wasn’t really surprised to hear that they’d caught him, and unlike many others she wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d be holding him on campus. She had full confidence in both the faculty, the promising Hero-course students, and UA’s security system, knowing damn well it could serve well as a prison not just for the students who went there, such as herself, but for the leader of the League of Villains as well.

To say she felt safe as she walked with Aizawa to meet him would be an understatement. She knew why the teacher had been tasked with taking her there, the intention being to scare her, give her a picture of what scum she would become if she continued down the path of fuck-all she was currently on. But, even though she wanted to rebel against taking any orders, she was feeling something far more superior than the will to fight back, something that trumped safety and laid waste to fear, she was feeling thrill. 

This would be a means to an end, a cure for boredom as well as a way to show once and for all that she was a hopeless cause, maybe then these obsessive heroes would leave her the fuck alone already.

“Wow, you’re really ugly! I mean, they warned me you were, but I could never’ve imagined it’d be this bad!”

She was jeering laughs at the lanky figure who towered over her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and his eyes spiraling in disbelief in process of understanding why what was found beneath his fingertips wasn’t turning to ash.

“Aren’t bad guys supposed to be sexy?” Her idiotic rambling only succeeded in confusing him more as she shrugged his seemingly useless normal hand away, walking to sit down on the floor, knowing it would be a while until Aizawa let her out again. “You know, to seduce and lure people into their ranks?” She looked over the meal tray he’d flipped out of her hand before seizing her throat, nothing sharp, no cutlery, no broken glass, just one measly apple. “I’m guessing you’re not in charge of recruiting. I mean… who would ever want to follow your ugly mug?”

She watched in anticipation of what remark he’d hurl her way. She’d heard he was bratty, she’d heard he was the one who could set her straight, divert her from this collision-course she’d set herself out on. Yet, his response was more than disappointing, not at all the tornado of a tantrum she had been preparing for. “You talk too much.” He didn’t even sound at all any provoked by her words, dismissing her as he slowly made to pick up the apple from the ground, checking to see if it was his quirk that was gone or if there was something else afoot, finding his answer in the ashes of the fruit.

“Come on.” She drawled, crossing her legs beneath her, keen eyes looking at him as he too sat back down to lean against the wall, looking only a fair bit of annoyed with her presence, as though she were a stain on his shirt, an inconvenience of some sorts. “You were gonna kill me!” She laughed, his red scrutinizing orbs looking to her with a sneer. “Without a thought, in cold blood, no remorse, even after I gave you food like the mutt you are, the least I can do is spit in your face!” 

He didn’t answer. Eyes still set on her where she sat planted without a single care, annoyed with how comfortable she looked, as though she were in her element, as though she was winning some sort of game, a game that wasn’t even about him as her eyes flittered to the black-glass of the window every now and again.

She clicked her tongue, beginning a new ramble. “Tell me, Shiggy.” She smiled, eyes wicked and gleaming and untamed. “That quirk of yours…”

She might have phrased it all like a question, but Shigaraki could hear it plain and simple, how her one goal was to mock him, poke at him until he burst, and not even for the sake of watching him burst, but for the sake of proving to whomever was on the other side of that glass that they couldn’t tame her. He didn’t need to know her entire story to see that much, how he was being used as a pawn to convert some meaningless pretty-girl.

“Can you control it? Or does everything you touch turn to ash no matter your desire?” It wouldn’t have been out of place if she’d licked her lips with how dripping with venom her words were. “It’s like the Midas touch, isn’t it?”

Her poetic phrasing of his deadly quirk had his eyes narrowing, but he hadn’t much time to think her wording over before she began a new escapade.

“Have you ever fucked anyone, Shiggy?” She didn’t even look at him as she asked, alerting him of what he already knew, how she had no interest in his answer, only his reaction, and the reaction his reaction would beckon from the people in the other room. 

She was trying to rile him up, prove how vicious she could be, prove how she hadn’t a single fuck to give. 

“I bet you’ve never truly touched anyone. How could you? I mean, first…” She laid down on her back with a careless roll, looking to the ceiling, ignoring him if it weren’t for the fact she was talking to him, or about him, or at him. “Who would ever want to fuck you? All those wrinkles and all those scars. You look like the onset of death.” She giggled, and he watched her tits bounce as though they were laughing at him too. “I cannot imagine anyone willingly wanting whatever you have to offer. And even if you force it on them, you’d be bound to fuck up with how much they’d struggle.” You’d think she carried a vendetta toward him, with how personal her attacks were, yet it was all given away with how little she was paying attention to him, as though she’d judged already whatever it was she found interesting and was now done with him. All she remained focused on was creating a show, to see how far she could take it before anyone came in to stop her, how much she could poke until something snapped, how much she could bend until something broke. “Just one slip of the hand and you’re left with your dick only halfway wet in a pile of dust.”

He didn’t know if she knew how correct her imagery was, he guessed she didn’t, he wanted to believe she’d show a bit more restraint then, a bit more unease, more respect. She acted as though she wasn’t trapped in a box with a notorious villain, seemingly unaware of her own stature as well as his. She was nothing but a school-girl and yet she felt comfortable enough in her safety to be lying on her back, flinging insult at the person she was locked in with.

“I don’t see how it could bother you for too long though.” Again, she had him intrigued. “I mean… pretty stupid bitches who’re only worth one fuck anyway can’t really be counted as a loss, can it?”

It was clear she didn’t view herself as one of said pretty stupid bitches, even though a pretty stupid bitch is exactly what she looked like in Shigaraki’s eyes. Perhaps that was her point exactly.

“Have you ever dusted someone who did count as a loss?” She rolled over, head propped up on her elbows, laying in her palms, her feet kicking the air behind her. “You ever fuck up so bad? Committed an irredeemable act? Something so unforgivable even you can’t forgive yourself?” Her eyes were set on him again now. “Do you think about it every day?” Her tone shifted then, to something sadistically sweet. “Does it hurt just as much now as it did then?” Her face split into a grin, eyes ablaze as she observed, searched for a breach in his composure. “What happened to mommy and daddy, Shiggy.” She singsonged, toying with him. “Were they your first victims? Did you cry? Do you still cry? Or did they deserve it?”

Her look was earnest, salacious until she rolled her eyes in boredom at his lack of response.

Sighing, she calmed back down, briefly. “I get it… You don’t want to play with me ‘cause you don’t think I’m a worthy player.” She scoffed as she looked to the side with a melodramatic drag. “You should check yourself. We keep you in a cage, give you food, have you on a leash and collar. You’re nothing but our pet!”

She giggled again, biting her tongue, gnawing on it between the rows of her teeth with her mouth open in a wide smile.

“You know… My quirk is called immunity, but it should really be called repellent.” She looked at her hands then, now kneeling in front of him. Her gaze split like lightning, snapping to look at him again, a catlike smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You and I aren’t that different, are we?” It looked for a second as though she were about to stand up, but the movement fell short as she instead gave way to crawl closer to him, one elegant arm followed by the other, all with the grace of a huntress, a panther easing in for the kill. “In fact… I think I’d go as far and say we’re the exact same…” His eyes didn’t deceive him, this time she did lick her lips, only now her words weren’t dripping with venom, but with some other sickly-sweet nectar. “’Cause…where I never let anyone come close, you let ‘em come close… only for them to die!”

“That’s enough.” He must have closed his eyes the second he felt her breath fan over his face, because he’d missed the time the erasure hero had walked in. “This was a waste of time.” The dark-haired man groaned, disappointed.

“Aw, really?”

She wasn’t in front of him anymore, to his surprising disappointment, though her sweet smell still lingered about him pleasantly.

“And I was just getting to the fun part…” She walked to the threshold of the cell-door, not once indicating she’d turn around and take one final look at him. “Well, anyway… tootles, pet.”

Even as she insulted him, she did it twice over by not returning his gaze.

-

She was still sleeping, she noted as her mind, though still groggy and drowsed out, became lucid enough to start thinking. She was sleeping, yet the sleep felt unsafe, as though her alarm was bound to go off any second, firmly shaking her awake and telling her time was running out for her to get to school. And if she’d slept through the alarm, a teacher was soon to come fetch her. Yet, for now she remained halfway asleep, waiting for an alarm or a knock on the door unknowing of how it would never arrive.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drug that had perhaps made some of her senses dull under the impression, for… surely she should feel that her mouth was stuffed full and made to suck on a rag, surely she should feel that her wrists were tied together behind her back, and how her thighs and legs were secured together in a frog tie, the rough rope, scratchy in texture, and how it scraped against her soft doughy skin. Perhaps he didn’t tie them tight enough. It was hard to get a good grip without accidentally dusting the ropes, but he knew the struggle was worth it, seeing her now, in all her defenseless vulnerable rightful glory.

“Not so tough now…” He taunted at her small sleeping frame. Even with her clothes still on, he knew her naked body was only a mere touch away from him. How he could spread her open without her being able to kick, only wiggle for him, like a worm on a hook. No… that imagery is too ugly to be describing her, when she’s so far from ugly. She’s more like a butterfly trapped on a pin, wings fluttering hopelessly, reduced to nothing but beauty, nothing but a little doll for him to play with, tamper and poke fun at just like how she’d done back when he was captured at UA.

He decided pro putting the blindfold on her, perhaps the product of her bullying him in the cell, her jabs at his appearance subconsciously having gotten to him despite himself wanting to dust them off like he did with everything else. Her comments were sharp, and seemed to have the same type of immunity her body had, where his ego, much like himself, hadn’t the thickest of skin. Besides, she was… so painfully out of his league.

It hardly mattered though, now that he would regain all the control.

She laid on her stomach, face mushed against the mattress. He’d removed the pillows and comforter so she’d be placed like a centerpiece on his little operating table. She looked so harmless now, so sweet, especially tied up the way she was, and with those whimpering moans that were simmering to the surface, breaching her sleep, escorted by her wiggling, her delicious tempting little wiggling, begging for Shigaraki to come introduce himself, now with the turned tables.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let it slide?” Her wiggles came to an abrupt holt, breath caught in her throat, making her choke out a curt gasp through the thickness of her makeshift gag. “Did you think you were safe? Like you were simply spitting on a grave. No ghosts coming to haunt you.” She panicked once she felt the bed dip, four fingers sharp in their venture, sweeping up her back, settling around her neck, drawing out painful sudden studded goosebumps, spreading across her skin like wildfire in a field. “Silly little slut.” She squealed at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, unable to move away, her head halfway buried in the soft mattress, teeth sinking into the cloth in her mouth when his tongue, wet with drool, large and flat, dragged up her already teary cheek. “Boo.”

Her ears were burning, so much blood gushing and rushing and pooling in her head like a storm, she barely registered him drawing back with that maniacal giggle, where with as trademark as it were, there was no doubt where she was or who she was with. Yet, she hadn’t the time to think about it, she hadn’t the time to regret or answer questions she hadn’t even the time to ask, because as her mind was cooking up chaotic whirlwinds of fear, crippling fear despite being crippled enough already, brutal fear that her gut feeling like acid festering and mind reeling in on itself in such vehemence she felt she might just faint, give out like a light in a blizzard, she was given no time before he was talking again, pushing her even further out on the edge she found herself, stepping on her fingers one by one, with no mercy as she dangled above jagged rock that were sure to spear her like an arrow through a dove.

“You were wrong, you know.” She felt his hands trace a careful set of four fingers down the fabric of her shirt, rubbing into her spine, further pushing the breath from out of her lungs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spoke casually, though peppered in between the notes of nonchalance was found the spiked flavors of spiteful mockery, like the mean girl on campus, like how she usually talks, like how she had spoken to him. “But, what I haven’t done is played with someone’s body the way I’m gonna play with yours.” He listened to her whimper, sobs surely to soon wrack through her body, uncontrollably and thoroughly, making her gasp and choke on nothing but air and fear. “I mean, it’s only fair.” She heard the shrug in his voice, that sarcastic sigh and lightheartedness. “You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” This time he growled and she swore she would piss herself with how scared she was.

He was going to kill her, she knew it, she could feel it crawling up and down her body as though mites were hidden in her clothes. She already sensed him peeling off her skin, flaying her with her screaming. And in those seconds, those hopeless seconds, she wished for death, for it to be quick, painless, like simply snuffing out a light. She nearly prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to pray to that God or Devil she never believed in, never needed as badly as she needed them now. She wished for her heart to give out, for the right vein to pop, for a lung to collapse, anything, just for her to be dead before he had the mind to torture her to death.

“Does that sound fun, pet.” And there she broke, waterworks in full effect, no longer simple silent tears but something that had built under pressure like boiling pot of water, bubbling, soon to be blubbering incoherent sobs out into her gag, all to his vengeful amusement.

He watched her for a moment, one longer than he’d probably intended, despite not having view of her eyes, watching the blindfold wet as her eyes leaked at the complete overwhelming loss of hope, lips sucking on the gag those tears that managed to escape and run down to salt her lips.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” He accused, giving her barefoot a squeeze, making her wiggle with what mobility the bonds allowed her, looking handicapped, as though he’d disintegrated both her arms and legs when he’d simply tied them up where they would be stored safely and out of the way until he deemed it okay for her to use them again, where until then… she’d remain his little immobile toy. “Pretty little girl, all tied up.” He giggled, both amused and pleased, leaning down to tug those locks of hair that had curtained her face behind her ear, making the thin wisps at the back of her neck bristle in alarm. “All alone with the big bad ugly villain.” He bit it out with a smirk, and she swore she felt venom drop where he spit the words on her face. “Pretty girl… dressed in such pretty things.” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her silk pajama shirt, his other hand stroking a thumb over himself and his caged member, the beast behind the boxer, the one she was still so completely unaware of. “To hide her rotten core.”

He snickered some more at the notice of how ticklish she was, or perhaps it wasn’t as much a reflex but rather a violent display of her fear, how she kicked, or tried to kick her legs, once his hand with its lanky slender fingers danced a pattern on the sole of her foot.

“They won’t be of much help to you now…”

It’s was a cute display, seeing her struggle in an attempt to swat away his spidering hand, endearing, had him drooling he realized, but didn’t bother to wipe his chin, instead giving into the urge he had to touch what was so temptingly sprawled out before him.

“I bet you think of these as your armor, don’t you?”

All five of his fingers touched down on her shirt, and soon there was no shirt left to separate his dry course fingers from her warm skin. He nearly let out a gasp as he watched how she stayed in place, having not become a pyramid of ash. Her beautiful body still right there, warm glowing skin still touchable, more touchable than anything else.

“Keeping you safe from prying eyes and hands… Not my hands though.”

He could excuse how he hesitated on the fact of him wanting to enjoy himself, wretchedly and thoroughly, gorging in every moment he was gonna make her scream, but… he knew that wasn’t the reason… he was… and he hated to admit it, but… nervous. He had this gorgeous creature trapped and under his thumb and he was nervous? No matter how terrified she was and immobilized it was like she still had the power, just like she had in that prison cell.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he’d thought about her everyday he was trapped in there. She had said she would see him later yet she never once, not once, came a second time. Why would she lie? Just to fuck with him some more? One last and lasting punch in the face? He had dreamed of it. How many times had he fantasized about doing every possible nasty thing in the book to her, teach her a lesson, make her beg, make her kneel, make her bow before him? But now, having her right there, this frail little girl who wouldn’t have the strength to fight him even without the tight rope holding her down, this little girl who despite being just that had him enthralled for months, still just as hellbent, enslaved, spellbound to make her pay… but that wasn’t it either… making her pay was only half of it, maybe even less… what he wanted, what he truly wanted, was to prove to her that he could have her wrapped around his finger despite being what ugly freak she’d made him out to be, that despite being ugly, he could have a pretty-girl like her melting.

He gave fully into his wishes then, her shorts gone with a touch, leaving her in a precious pair of cotton boxers. A sigh of reverence left him, a shudder running through him. He was expecting red lace or something exotic, something vain and narcissistic meant to enhance or simply show off just how pretty she was. He figured that was what she’d dress in, something sexy, because she had the full body that one believes go hand in hand with hot lingerie, yet… she’d chosen comfort. And why wouldn’t she? When she could make it look like the hottest item his eyes ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Fuck…” He drawled, now with a wanton whine, his hand giving himself a squeeze as his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably inside the confines of his boxers. “Just look at you…”

He only barely dared touch her, not just out of fear of her disappearing like anything else would, but because he didn’t at all feel as though he had the right to put his hands on something so beautiful.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.” He stated, still in awe. “Not when they cover up this perfect body.”

She screamed into her gag as he grabbed around her waist, pulling her pliable little body up into a kneeling position, then pulling and arranging some further to have her in the same position, just over his slap this time, with his bulging cock rubbing through the fabric of his briefs up into her still clothed sex, though with both cloths a thin material she felt the abrasive ticklish friction begin to stir something in her lower abdomen despite her fear and no regard to her disgust. And now, provided with the full view of her delectable little frame, her precious tits sprung free and strutting towards him with how her arms were bent in their confinement behind her back, and perky by both the cold wind of his breath and the goosebump-giving anxiety, leveled with his face, looking eager to receive his mouth, perfect nipples for him to suck on, gnaw between the rows of his teeth.

“These perfect tits…” He licked his lips, hands kneading one mound greedily as the other held her steady. “And this…” He placed all five fingers on the fabric of her panties, turning them to ash, all five staying to touch the delicate skin of her sex, feeling her quake, such a good replacement to feeling someone disintegrate. He groaned out a curse, body sagging, slouching at the sight of her exposed bare little private, he hunched over in awe as he ran his fingers through to disappear in the slit of her precious pussy. “This perfect little pussy.”

She wiggled on his digits with a squealing whimpering sob, so alive and warm and soft he could cry with how safe he was beginning to feel, without the fear of touching just a bit too much getting in the way. Although he was feeling the slight sensation of inferiority in the light of her perfection, or maybe even because of it, he decided he’d give a little scare, perhaps as a means of tipping or evening the scales.

“You know, pretty girl…” His other hand, the one not currently preoccupied with cupping her pussy, brutally brazen for the first time, spread its fingers to stroke the dome of her ass, before curling like claws to grab a fist-full of the ample flesh, making her jump and lose balance, resulting in falling flush against his chest all with a muffled cry. Her face mushed against his collar, her wet reddened nose painting tears onto his throat, such a strange type of comfort against his scars. “I’ve never slapped anyone?” He could feel her heartbeat and how it hammered like a race-horse on the track. “Or, no, I’ve slapped plenty, but a slap from me means death, usually.” His hand ascended, wrapping around her throat, all five fingers with hungry-pressured fingertips, guiding her back off his chest to sit properly, though leaning to bite her earlobe, all to feel her rub down on his aching cock some more. “But I slap you and it means pretty marks and pretty screams, doesn’t it?”

He laughed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or at least not as badly as he had given reason to think.

“Such a fucking pretty girl, aren’t you?” He trailed a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts, gripping her waist as she recoiled back. “With pretty tits.” Breath labored, or hefty with greed and desire. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy.” He squeezed her sides, as though getting ready to make a ragdoll of her again, pulling her into the desired position. “Let me taste you.”

Her heart hammered like a hammer hitting an anvil, as she was placed on her back, hands crushed beneath her, uncomfortably wrenching in their bonds. Her mind, stuck in its prospect, hadn’t pieced it together, despite having been stripped naked, she still hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t dared give it a thought, but his comment made the realization coat thickly, drape her and the pressure seemed too much for her mind to take, plummeting into a free-fall. He wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to rape her first.

Thighs easily pried open for him to settle in between, scooting back on the bed so he could lie down, lower half humping the mattress desperately, imagining having her wrapped around him, but all in good time. She shook more than writhed, seizurely beneath him, with her blushed pussy a beautiful slit so ripe for the taking, quivering at the warming breath he whispered upon the tender flesh. With his hands wrapped around each their ankle he pushed her thighs and legs up and out of the way as to not have her knee him in the head while he feasted.

He listened to her struggling to breathe, her stomach rising and falling sporadically with her sobs, untuned and painful and begging for any kindness he had to spare, he was going to give her exactly that. Kindness.

His chapped lips felt so good it was cruel, abrasive and inescapably delicious, welcomed yet unwelcome by the bucking of her hips as she squealed into her gag, falling prey to more and more hopelessness. His tongue came second, warm and wet and long and strong, sliding in between her folds only to swipe up and flick off at her clit, forcing a shudder to run all the way through her core into the tips of her toes, mind reeling.

“So cute.” He noted the sensitivity with a mocking jeer, the sound simmering on her skin. “I bet a pretty girl like you’ve never been fucked by a guy like me before.” Then his teeth were the ones to make an impact, grazing over her budding clit with how it reached out in search for stimulation, having its wish granted in such a sense forcing her toes to curl. “Come on my ugly face, pretty-girl.” She really couldn’t resist with how his words were tickling on that sensitive spot, and how intent on finding and following that spot that had her coming on done and abusing it, playing with it with his tongue and chapped lips, switching between such smooth soft yet forceful pressure and bristled rough chaffed contact, making her spasm, wanting so desperately to tug her arms loose to push his incessant face off, because she wouldn’t be able to resist it, she was going to come and make an humiliating mess on his tongue just like he wanted, the knot was going to snap and she would be screaming from the force of it.

He smirked with the taste of her essence on his tongue, giving her a couple more torturous kitty-licks that had her brutally recoiling by the oversensitivity he was abusing. It served well as an ego-boost as he was suddenly feeling the urge to take her blindfold off, make her gaze upon who had her wrapped around his finger. What more, he wanted to remove her gag, hear what she had to say to defend herself, what pathetic please she would come with to try and prevent him from going any further.

His mouth sloshed its way up her stomach, hands touching and grabbing and groping with greedy fingers onto anything and everything they got ahold of, feeling up her smooth skin and soft flesh, before having made their way to grab at the blindfold. Her eyes were petrified, blinking rapidly, especially every time his clothed cock bumped into her bare pussy, leaving strings of spit and fine silken cum to hang from between where she parted with the cotton of his pants.

She was thoroughly out of it, delirious, fear-ridden and numbed with pleasure, cotton yet swivel-eyed as he fought to be her focus. He pulled the gag out of her mouth too, wiping his chin before turning the fabric to ash, eyes looking her over all the while.

His tongue rolled over his lips. “Such a pretty face.” He gathered her face between his fingers, blunt fingertips pushing into squishy bloated cheeks. “Even prettier with those tears you fucking crybaby.” It will never get old, the feeling of nothing happening still under all his five fingers. “Even better with my handprint, don’t you think?” It was funny how she didn’t seem to pick up anything of what he was saying. “Or covered in my cum.” Her brows had scrunched so hopelessly close together, whimpers upon sniffles and whiny mewling and hiccupping panting, so pathetic and precious. “So fucking pretty.” He groaned, giving his lips a second wetting with his tongue. “Kiss me, pretty-girl.” He scrunched her lips together some more, leaving her incapable of refusing.

She tasted herself on his tongue, choking on the sweetness as he forced it like a slug down her throat. Her own tongue submissive in nature, staying beneath and out of the way of his. It was a series varying from needy whimpering moans and growls that followed from his throat, poured into her receiving mouth, giving nothing but weak whines in return. His one free hand, the other one still holding a firm grip onto her chin and cheeks, continued in its hungry exploration, grabbing with an almost childlike curious freedom, leaving painful marks in their wake, having her yelp against his willful lips, which smirk grew upon every inch of reaction she fed him, until pulling away in a haze, panting, with a new little wish he was going to have her be the star of.

“Let me fuck that pretty face.”

She hadn’t the time, nor the mind, to form any protest, reduced to mere whimpering as he pulled her back into a kneeling position, conjoined thighs and legs folded beneath and supporting her ass, still with her arms tied snuggly and unbudgingly behind her back, made to watch him fiddle with the band to his sweats, pulling them below his hips and falling to his thighs, displaying his surprisingly clean boxers and not so surprising hardness. Cock throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His hand pulling his boxers down and, cock springing loose, slapping against his abdomen, standing long and hard, tip blushed red and angry, a bead of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit.

“Open up, lick it up.”

She’d been lost in taking in the sheer size of him, girth thick and threatening, looking bigger than what she could wrap her hand around, her stomach twisting in tension and unease. Too caught up in imagine it ripping her apart than realizing how he was going to fit it into her mouth first.

Her eyes widened upon the thought, lips slightly apart in horror, bottom-lip quivering. “Come on, pretty-girl.” One hand tugged on his shaft, the other gripped her face, protruding nails to sink into her jaw, prying her mouth father apart to accommodate his size.

She whined at the taste of him, arms struggling behind her back, knees shuffling wider apart to support herself as he pushed on further, fingernails still digging into her soft cheeks, making her lips pucker into a soft welcoming oval. He liked the way her brows furrowed into that beautiful look of plead that had his balls aching where they hung, soon to be pressed up against her soft skin, smothering her chin. He also enjoyed how her whimpers had turned to delicious little vibrations of his cock, drumming alongside his length, such pretty friction.

“Come on, take all of me.” He licked his lips as he urged, other hand coming to caress the back of her skull, gathering her pretty locks between his fingers, abandoning all regard to how she should be turning to nothing but dust molecules instead of being a nice warm soft wet pleasure hole for him. His usually small scrutinizing scarlet eyes turning moon-wide with lustful frenzy. Voice ragged as he clawed at her scalp to obey him, no thought to her whining in protest. “You can do better.” His tip met with the back of her throat and her whine turned more desperate, nearly a scream, but he couldn’t care, not with the memory of her talking to him like he was some pussy-bitch, he was going to show her who the bitch and who the boss was. “Such a pretty little thing with such a nasty filthy ugly fucking mouth.” He spit through grit teeth, begging to fuck the back of her throat, having her gagging on him, hopeless in search for breath. “A mouth like that is only good for one thing.” He gave a few more painfully deep ruts, having her eyes roll back at the loss of breath, before ripping loose again. “Same goes for that pussy.”

“No, no.” She scrambled on the bed, trying to get away, trying to rip free, so hopeless he should have felt bad, but couldn’t bring himself to the feeling as he sat there and laughed, eyes wild, dick prospering, hand pumping his length to the sight of her.

He followed her pathetic struggling little shame, climbing on top of her. The panic swallowed her again, forcing a overwhelmed rush of sobs to come spluttering and blubbering and screaming from her little shape caught beneath him. “Such a little slut.” His fingers were at once groping her pussy, diving between her folds to rub her slit and clit. “Still so wet, are you excited?” She turned her head away as she struggled, eyes squeezed shut. “Aw, pretending it’s not me.” He snickered. “Good luck.”

Offended, he decided against making it pleasant for her, thinking she deserved as little sympathy from him as she had showed him, but his brutal actions slowed at the feel of the pressure around his finger when he’d pushed it inside her.

“So tight.” He stated, shocked as he tried swirling the digit inside, to feel the walls giving little wiggle-room to do so. She winced as he hooked, a heavy breathy shrill type of wince, as though he was pulling a knife from her gut.

He left the finger there, much to her discomfort.

“That comment…” He started, working her tightness as much as he could, still with only one finger. “When we first met.” His other hand gathered her face again, forcing her to look at him as he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to see those eyes as he got confirmation on his suspicion. “You said you push people away… that you were a… repellant.” Her breathing hitched as she sniveled like a little girl who scraped her knee. “Did that count for this as well?”

He hadn’t yet let the smile stretch on his face, but the chiding smirk started to grow as the answer was clearly displayed all over her face and by the telltale feeling his finger shoved inside her way too tight hole told him.

“Aww, is the pretty little girl a virgin?” He gave her no inch of regret, even with the fact clear as day. Having worked her tightness well enough to cram another bony-knuckled finger inside her, making her cry out. “Don’t worry, that pretty pussy is in good hands.”

She owed him, this way they would be even. Besides, he wasn’t making it completely miserable for her either. Her face might be telling one story of torment, but her drooling pussy was telling him something utterly different. Perhaps it was due to her amateur ability to hold on, but she was soon creaming all over his fingers, body spasming in tired bliss, eyes fluttering for a moment or two, trying to grasp what the fuck was happening. It was adorable.

“I think my little slut is ready.”

She murmured a sigh, energy spent on crying and struggling and coming twice already, all she could do was moan when his cockhead broke through her tight little weeping hole. He had to moan as well at the snug hug her pussy squeezed and seized him with, biting roughly into his bottom lip, tooth snaggling in the dip of his scar. Brows raised in bliss, scrunched in an eruption, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her tight convulsing cunt, preciously clutching around him, fluttering upon the fulfilling snug fit that had her toes cramping in their curled state, eyes zoning out, unable to focus, mouth blubbering and chewing on incoherent sentences, only capable on slurring out muddled moans and wet gasps as he fucked slowly into, lolling his hips forward carefully, holding onto the mouthwatering feeling of her warmth around him.

He pushed his thumb into her clit, which had her back arching and moan ripped from her throat before she settled down into the mattress again, welcoming the stimulation where she was crippled to preventit. “Your pretty pussy loves being taken by my disgusting cock, doesn’t it?” She could only hum and croon in reply, as he hit the very back, pushing into her cervix with a rather soft nudge, having her result to sucking on her bottom-lip, purring whines like a little kitten taking pleasure from their master. “I hear it in your pretty moans.”

He was no longer biting out the word pretty as though it were a curse or venom on his tongue. It sounded more like praise than anything, something akin to awe, pride even, smug for having it all under his thumb, burying his cock inside the word, for being the one to have reduced such a pretty thing to such a pretty mess, all for him, all by him, making her all his.

She made a shuddering gasp, moaning into his mouth as he leaned down. “Oh, is the pretty girl gonna cum all over my disgusting cock.” He cooed, all five fingers placed on her cheek when cupping it to have those gorgeous opium-blown eyes look at him when she came undone, for him to find such dangerous satisfaction in seeing her conquered beneath him, finding it to be the last push to send him off his own edge as well. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in that pretty pussy.”

He made to have that final bone-crushing kiss, faces mushed together in a sloppy mess of wet slippery tongues and drool, moaning and groaning, inhaling each-other.

Reduced to mere gasping and panting. Cock, having for the first time felt the fulfilling pleasure of blowing inside the warm comfort of a precious goddess, feeling her gush and come all over him in the near split-second, feeling her clench and tighten around him like a vice, robbing and ringing and milking him for every drop he was worth. He gave some more pumps, pushing deep within her, felt a shudder run down the underside of his cock, overstimulated and satisfied for the first time.

Still coming down from his high, he made to take in her shape and state.

He hadn’t really fantasized she’d be so pliant after being fucked, but looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine her any other way, anything more right then her glossy sweat-slicked body spasming in aftershocks of her orgasms, laid so preciously snug against his chest, thighs visibly shaking with still small feeble stuttering moans slipping from her lips in blubbers. He wasn’t too far from the same state himself, having had only barely the mind before exhaustion rendered his limbs too heavy for moving, to untie the knots and rearrange them into something more comfortable. He decided tying her wrists together in front of her to be better, legs free but too tired and dumbed-out to struggle.

He looked at her drowsy state with a smile, betting he could make such a grateful little pet out of her, and if not, then scramble her mind through so many cruel methods, and make do with a brainless toy instead. But, looking down at that blissed-out hopeless look on her face and that dainty defenseless body he’d manipulated and forced to its knees, he couldn’t really see how any cruel methods would be needed.

It seemed to him that all she needed was cock, a couple of orgasms forced from her pent-up body, a little relief. The little brat was just a bit grouchy and grumpy because she hadn’t had her pussy played with. He could relate, he also gets frustrated when not getting his dick wet for a while. She was just begging for someone to come handle her and that’s all there was to it. Just look at her now, so sweet and spent, lying in his arms.

Come to think of it, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be needing to apply any harsh treatments in taming her, she just needed to be tied up and made to feel just how good being taken care of feels until she accepted it willingly. And if and when she decides on being bratty, he’ll have plenty of methods of shutting that trap right up, or in making her scream.

TIP-JAR

[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villain and Supervillain are both tortured by the heroes. Supervillain is hurt even more and gets deathly sick and deliriously feverish. In the cell, Villain comforts the other even though their own injuries hurt and they can feel the heat of a mild grade fever burning at their own body. Eventually they escape, but Supervillain is so hurt and so so so sick that they can't even stay conscious. Villain ends up having to be the caretaker of both, helping the other through nightmares and all that until they too give up.

Sorry if this is too detailed... just an idea I thought of.

This is so so good!! I hope this is alright. There’s a lot of stuff I tried to fit in here in under 3k words. Thank you so much for the prompt!!

CW//Torture, drowning, waterboarding (kinda), suicidal thoughts (as a means of escape), mention of death, sickness, gross water, gross food, nightmares, broken bones

The pressure was more than enough to choke. If only Supervillain was allowed the privilege of choking. That would, of course, require oxygen. The ability to fight back. The ability to breathe.

All privileges they had lost.

From the pipe, positioned perhaps a torturous three inches before their face, their mouth, spewed forth a waterfall of agony in quite literal form. Many described pain as burning, but it was never quite that. The unbearable flow was frigid cold, spilling down the front of their chest, soaking their tattered prisoner’s uniform.

But, there was a difference between freezing and drowning. The first was survivable.

The water upon their front, spilling onto the floor, into the drain positioned between their bound hands, was bearable. Survivable. The same could not be said about the liquid pumped into their lungs.

Not into their lungs, of course. Not directly. But, with the slightest bit more force, it would be. It would fill their lungs, and they would drown. They were certain of that, and they longed for it. Longed for the peace that death would bring.

But death was a privilege, and though they did not know when it had been lost, it was most certainly now gone.

Instead, instead of the liberation of cessation, it was water that filled their mouth, spilling down their throat, running down their neck and freezing them. They heard the tick, tried to count it, one, two, three, but knew it was no use. Knew their mind could not focus when it was trying to hard not to drown.

They wouldn’t be allowed to drown. Their mind didn’t know that. It knew only of the chain upon their neck, an invisible force pulling them back, keeping their head in place. The metal, V-shaped gag within their mouth, guarding it firmly open, was another centerpiece of their agony.

Helplessness. Helpless agony. Supervillain had learned to live with it, so why couldn’t their brain? Their body? Why could they not understand that their captors were not merciful enough to allow them to die? No, they would only be teased with such a thing.

Their vision began to cloud, then, only at the edges. The edges that had not been splattered by stray water droplets. This was it, their mind spoke. This was the end, at long last. There was, at the very least, some peace to it.

From the pipe, the raging flow of water turned to a trickle, before ceasing. Liquid dribbled from their mouth, lips quivering. It was not their desire to take in air, but their lungs, their mind, gave them no choice. They may not have desired to keep going, but their brain needed air, and it was determined to take it.

A few, blissful seconds. Their lungs filled, and emptied, filled, and emptied, until they could at last think again.

That was when the waterfall began one more to stab their throat. To fill their lungs, to choke them. Their muscles twitched, desperate to struggle, but it wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth it.

At the very least, from their restrained position, they could see the clock. Watch as the seconds ticked by. Ninety seconds of water. Ten of air. Ninety. Ten. Ninety. Ten.

When the door opened, a shivering relief overcame their exhausted body, their half-awake mind.

“You think they’re done?”

“I don’t think they’ll be causing us any problems for the rest of the day.”

“You sure?”

“Eh, we can always put ‘em back.”

It was blissful.

Only three hours, today.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The sound of Supervillain’s collapse was only partially muffled by the wall that separated them from Villain.

It was a clear glass that was between them, blue in tint. Clear on all sides. Cages of vulnerability.

Perhaps Supervillain’s movement could not be described as a collapse. It was not a collapse if one had not been standing under their power in the first place. No, the barely audible sound, the vibrations that barely penetrated the barrier were produced by their body, thrown to the ground. It had used to be that two guards would drag them back in the mornings, but, now, there was only the one.

Resources better spent elsewhere.

Below, the floor shook as the blue, crystal-clear door to their cell was slammed closed. A lock clicked. 

A supervillain abandoned, left to rot.

They lay only perhaps a foot from the door, exactly where they had been dropped. Exactly where they had been placed. On occasions, the rarest of them, their body would shiver and shake, coughing up a paltry, thin stream of water, but this was all.

Villain knew well enough to know that it was all involuntary. Even if the guards were far too dim-witted to tell, their burden had already been unconscious, even as they dragged them.

They always fell asleep, as soon as their morning session was over. The guards seemed to derive some sort of sick pleasure from referring to it as their ‘breakfast.’ They, of all people, should have known that they weren’t fed. Being dragged from their cell and half drowned at the strike of dawn didn’t count.

But, that was the point of the joke, wasn’t it?

The sound of a splint dragging over tile was certainly an odd one, metal on porcelain, yet, it was a sound that Villain could say with quite definitive certainty that they had long since grown used to. It was with a limp, dead leg hauled behind them that they crawled to the edge of their cell, the wall which they shared with their friend. Their old boss.

Even the tiny amount of movement, the tiny distance covered, they were quite exhausted by the time they got there. When they had been thrown here for the first time, six feet by four had seemed so terribly small. Now, it was a monumental distance to cover.

Yet, that was an effort that was more than worth expending.

They leaned their head up against the clear glass wall. It was the best they could do, the only comfort they could offer. The quietest of vibrations were shared between the two of them, shallow, anguished breaths pushed up against the same barrier. The weakest of shared agonies and shared comforts, all alike.

Now that Supervillain was back, Villain knew full well that it would be their turn in a few meager minutes. The guards would return for them, take them to the same room. Even as their tortures were different, personally tailored to harm them, there was some odd unity in sharing a chamber of suffering.

And, for now, they were together. For the briefest of moments, they were together. Just breathing.

Villain opened their eyes, once they had the strength to.

Supervillain was getting worse. They didn’t need to be a doctor to see that, but their medical background made the sight only that much more heartwrenching. A proper examination would require physical touch, touch they could not offer, but they would have to be blind to not notice those symptoms that were visual.

The beads of liquid that sprung from their neck were certainly not residual from their torture, nor was the redness that seemed to spread through every inch of skin exposed from their soaked-through grey uniform. The slightest swelling could be seen upon their throat, beneath their jaw. Swollen lymph nodes. If the illness was respiratory, it was quite impossible to tell-- They had not the energy to cough.

They needed a doctor. They needed to get out of here, of course, but sooner than that, they needed a doctor. Had Villain had their lab, their tools, their freedom, they could have fixed the issue in an instant. It had started so quickly, come on in half an instant. Surely, it was one of the more routine of illnesses.

One that could be fought off by any adult with even the slightest modicum of strength.

But, that was not something that Supervillain had the liberty of possessing.

Villain wasn’t an idiot, not nearly as stupid as the guards as the heroes under which they worked were. Even their medical experience hardly tied into the fact that they knew, full well, that their fellow captive could not fight this illness.

Perhaps they had a week. Perhaps two. Any longer than that, and...

They didn’t want to be alone. Perhaps that was selfish. But it was true. They did not know how aware their fellow captive was, how long it had been since they had truly been aware of anything at all. But, they were there. Physically, they were there. And without that, Villain was certain that they, too, would die.

Maybe that would be okay. But Supervillain’s death certainly would not be.

Clacking in the distance. Hero-issue boots against tile. The guards were back. The room was clean, and ready for its next occupant.

That was okay. At the very least, during their daily torture, Villain would have something to think about.

How to escape.

How to save a life.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It took two weeks. Two weeks to plot the escape.

The Heroes’ Organization Special Holding Facility was certainly far more frightening than its official moniker made it seem, and that was saying quite something, as not many people would be all too keen on going to a ‘holding facility.’ Unfortunately, along with that terror came security. An almost terrifying amount of it.

Having telekinetic abilities was certainly a boon, but that didn’t make it any easier. It only made the escape possible.

A tripped guard. A dropped keycard. A mysterious, middle-of-the-night reset of the security system. A series of stars that a half-dead Villain had personally aligned.

None of that was the hardest part. No. The hardest part was most certainly getting Supervillain out. The concept of them moving on their own was laughable. Sometimes they managed to open their eyes, but that was more than clearly a monumental effort. It was even more difficult for them to close them.

They needed to be carried. They, a full-grown, adult human, needed to be carried all the way out of the facility. The guards never seemed to have much trouble with it, but Villain? The same Villain who spent their afternoons being tortured and their nights nursing their own wounds? The Villain who had been starved within an inch of their life?

That was a hell of a lot more difficult. They had never been particularly religious, but if they had, they would have most certainly thanked their deity of choice for the concept of an adrenaline rush.

Two weeks. Two weeks of planning, of watching their only friend, their only ally, in the whole world slowly perish, and they were free.

Free.

Scratchy carpet scraped beneath bare skin as their chest heaved, breathing in the surrounding musk between desperate gasps for air. The whole building smelled so horribly stale, so much like mold, like rust. It was wonderful. It was something other than glass, then disinfected walls and chairs and straps.

For a moment, Villain allowed themself to rest. But only for a moment.

They were free, and free people needed to keep themselves alive. There was no council, no heroes, no guards to do it for them. If they wanted to stay alive-- which they still were not certain upon-- they needed to fight for it.

If they wanted Supervillain, they needed to fight for them.

Two weeks of planning, and one week of exhaustion.

The location that had become their Eden certainly wasn’t special. Wasn’t habitable. It was the only place they could run to, that they could make it to, where they would be alone. Where they wouldn’t be found. An abandoned office building. Stories and stories of blank beige and whiteboards and their markers.

Paradise. Within the whole place, there wasn’t even a square inch of that dreaded, blue-tinted glass.

Nor were there medical supplies. Or food. Or water. Only a pair of villains, one desperate, one half dead. Leaving the building was a death sentence, or at least one of life imprisonment. A risk they simply couldn’t take.

So, they didn’t.

Water came easily enough, and by that, water came after the arduous and exhausting task of hauling their body up the building’s everlasting stairway, until they at last reached the roof. There sat their saving grace. Rainwater in puddles. Even as the liquid was green, even as it was filled with sticks and leaves, it was water.

Getting it down Supervillain’s throat was more than difficult, but they did not exactly have the energy to resist. Only to swallow, to let it happen. Once, they had opened their eyes. Looked up. Yet, there was no awareness behind them.

At least they had water. At least they were drinking.

Food was next. It was a terribly scarce resource at the Holding Facility, and too was it in the building. There was nothing fresh, nothing worth eating. That didn’t matter, not the slightest bit. In ancient, long-disabled fridges sat overripe fruits and rotted veggies. Supervillain managed to eat a baby carrot, while Villain got down half an apple.

For medical supplies, they searched desperately. Yet, unless a bandaid could cure a choking fever, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Those three words described quite well the next week of Villain’s life: Nothing at all. For Supervillain, the description was likely even more apt.

Once or twice, rain fell. More water. Never clean, but adequate. Food grew scarce, but there was food.

Those were variable, but throughout those seven days, there were two constants:

Villain was getting worse, and Supervillain wasn’t getting better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Supervillain was screaming.

When Villain awoke on the seventh day, it was the only thing they could note. A sound they hadn’t heard in so long, not since they had been dragged through hallways, since they had heard it muffled behind closed doors.

It was a scream, yes, but it was in their voice. Supervillain’s voice. That voice that had gone silent, so long ago. It took only an instant of blearily blinking, leaden eyelids for Villain to awake, scrambling, desperate. Desperate to see, yes, but also desperate to hear. To hear the voice that they feared would never again pipe up.

They were on their back. The city’s former greatest threat, public enemy number one, lay upon their back, limbs with the thickness of sticks squirming, shifting, writhing. Had they had an ounce of strength, strength not given by muddy water or rotten carrots, they may have been flailing to the point of being a threat.

But, that was a power they did not possess.

Instead, pathetically, they squirmed and wailed. Eyes closed. Lashes quivering.

Villain’s heart skipped a beat. The friend within them was terrified, yet the doctor that they had once been was so overwhelmed with relief. They were moving. That meant they were alive.

They were alive, and they were terrified.

It was an overwhelming effort to move to their side, propelled by only their arms, dragging them with trembling force. There was nothing they could do.

They knew that.

There was nothing Villain could do. No food, no water, no medicine. No strength. They had only one thing left to give from their own fever-addled body.

Their words.

They lay their head upon their old boss’s chest, ignoring the writhing, ignoring the struggling beneath.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” They slurred. Unable to keep their eyes open any longer. “It’s okay.”

Unable to keep their eyes open, or their mind awake. No food. No water. No medicine. Only sickness, only struggling.

“It’s okay, Supervillain. It’s me. It’s Villain. You’re okay.”

They weren’t okay. Nothing about this was okay. They were starving, exhausted, dehydrated, sick. None of this was in the slightest way okay, and yet...

Yet there was one thing they could guarantee.

“I’m right here.” Their mind began once more to cloud, the world beginning to blacken at its seems.

They didn’t so much as notice that they were crying, as they spoke.

“It’s okay, Supervillain. We’re going to die together, okay? I’ll be right here, the whole time, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s...”

The word left their lips as they slipped back to unconsciousness.

A moment too soon. A half-instant too quickly.

Too soon to notice the door opening, the gasp. The entrance of a good Samaritan, a horrified civilian, who had only just found two villains, an inch from death.

[kactus-loves-writing]

Bound and gagged, Hero was forced to kneel on the ground, thanks to the unyielding restraints. They heard footsteps approaching and steeled themselves for whatever sadistic mind games Whumper had planned for them today.

The door to their cell swung open to reveal none other than Villain. Hero blinked up in surprise at first, before quickly shifting into an icy glare.

Brilliant. Just what they needed, another self-obsessed prick to come and toy with them.

Villain strolled into the cell with a grin on their face. “Fancy seeing you here Hero.”

Hero narrowed their eyes, as it was pretty much all they could do.

“Take that pesky cloth out of their mouth.” Villain casually tossed the order to Whumper’s guards who glanced at each other, but otherwise didn’t move.

That’s when Whumper made their appearance, rounding the corner into the cell. “Now why ever would I want to do that?”

Villain rolled their eyes, grin faltering only for a moment, before they turned to face Whumper. “Because they’re no fun like this. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve heard their pretty little voice, isn’t that right little bird?” Villain purred, directing the last bit at Hero who jerked against their bindings in response.

Whumper considered for a moment before signaling their guards to remove the gag.

“What are you doing here?” Hero immediately snapped, although it came out a bit raspy and painful since it had been so long since they were able to speak.

“Well I came to see my favorite little hero, of course,” Villain responded, stalking closer, still grinning.

Hero scoffed, “You mean you came here to gloat.”

Villain’s grin only widened. “Ah, there’s the Hero that we know and love.”

“Love to torture or love to play with?” Hero snapped back. “You know what, it’s probably a bit of both. Oh, who am I kidding it’s a lot of both.”

Villain only chuckled. “See what I mean? So much more entertaining this way,” Villain drawled, not bothering to glance back at Whumper, who had been observing their exchange with crossed arms and their trademark scowl.

“Make them think that they have some sort of defense, some sort of freedom, rile ‘em up a bit. Then when they try to lunge and take you down, they’re forced to face that they are well and truly trapped - entirely at your mercy,” Villain carried on, intense gaze never leaving Hero for a moment.

Hero faked a yawn. “You always did enjoy the sound of your own droning voice just a little too much, Villain. Then again, so does Whumper, but they have to keep me gagged because it would appear that not all people are able to defend themselves when bantering ensues. Some peoples minds are just too simple to comprehend it, I suppose.” Hero had an innocent face on throughout their entire speech, but Villain could see the amused smile in Hero’s eyes at the last part. Villain, however, didn’t bother to hide their amusement, as they turned around to face a fuming Whumper who looked like they were ready beat Hero into nothing but a blob on the concrete.

“I believe I understand why you feel the need to keep that thing in their mouth now,” Villain responded. Then lowered their voice to something more serious than the playful tone they had been using, they added “I’m sure you would’ve beaten Hero to death if you had to listen to that all day long.” Then their voice changed back to something lighter again. “I can take them with me. I have much more efficient ways of getting what I want out of them anyways.”

Hero’s blood froze at that. Whumper was terrible, but at least Hero knew how to deal with them. They’d only ever dealt with Villain when bantering and fighting, but being tied up with no escape? That was a completely different game.

“And why ever would I just hand them over to you?” Whumper demanded, head tilting up ever so slightly.

“Hmm, now that’s a very good question,” Villain responded with mock consideration. “Perhaps you should remember that I can collapse your entire ‘operation’ with little more than a bat of my eye,” Villain continued with that same light tone and a not unpleasant smirk.

Clearly, Whumper received the message all the same as their eyes widened before they recomposed themself. “Have it your way then,” they bit out.

“Perfect.” Villain spun on their heels and gave a two-finger beckoning motion over their shoulder to the guards. “Do bring Hero along.” Villain half turned to lock eyes with Hero. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

The look in Villain’s eyes told Hero that they were going to miss Whumper and the gag.

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 46!! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon @digitl-art-monstr @selfindulgenz @dakotafinely @yarchurr @sprinklestheditty @sententiously-sarcastic

Content warning! Mentions of death and suicide

Shredder was fighting with everything he had to free himself. He thrashed around, spinning as much as the tight containment would allow. If anything, he looked like a housecat in a carrier on its way to the vet. The families from both worlds gathered around the containment, much to Shredder’s furious frustration as he tried to slash himself free, but the containment held firm.

“Release me at once!” He snarled, pressing his muzzle to the clear door that didn't quite look to be glass; it had a more pinkish tint, like everything else in this place did.

Mikey and Raph looked at each other, and then looked at Shredder. “NAW!”

“April!” Leo ran to O’neil’s side as she finally removed her disguise, then looked beside her with a more confused look when he saw Casey. “Casey? How are you here— how are you breathing?”

O’neil opened her mouth to show what looked like gum on her tongue. “The other Donnie made these.”

All eyes fell wide on Donatello.

“What? I had a few hours while Leo was coming up with a plan.” Donnie shrugged, “They’re just prototypes. You can keep the rest if you want— I got a dozen more of the things.”

“But how did you—?”

“It’s easy! You mentioned that they shouldn’t be able to breath in here and i figured it was because of the weird properties of the air, but clearly we could breathe here, and so could my April so I took swabs of all of our mouths and then I took a swab of their mouths, compared the differences, and isolated the isotopic signatures that they didn't have and applied that knowledge into creating a gelatin-based supplement, and I gave their bodies a few hours to process the change, and then tested it by putting them near Leo’s rift where the atmosphere’s of both places merged and they were doing just fine so I deduced that my genius worked and we followed through with the plan. Any questions?”

“Several.” Mikey raised his hand.

“Write em down when we get home and I’ll answer them then.”

“Hey— you ain’t got yo uh… shell thing on.” Raph commented when he came behind Donatello.

“Yes— it didn't work with the plan. I needed to make him think I was Leo. Colored lenses, man I tell ya, they’ll change the world! My battle shell’s back home so I’d really like to get back there like ASAP because I am feeling highly anxious right now.”

“For a second there I didn't even think your plan would work.” Leo laughed weakly and shook his head, “Good idea using Draxum!”

Leonardo didn't answer.

“Leo? Donatello asked.

Leonardo walked closer to the containment cell and placed his hand on it, staring in at the tortured figure of his brother. The creature was Shredder in both mind and body, no doubt about that. The armor, the metal ribs, those sickle claws were all Shredder! But the plastron, and those baby blues eyes belonged to Raphael and to see them on someone else— something else— made Leonardo incredibly sad. He wondered if Raphael could still hear him…? Maybe not. But Shredder certainly could, right?

“Can you hear me?” Leonardo whispered to the tank; his eyes locked onto the blue ones just beyond the barrier.

Shredder gave a low rumble and lowered his head to meet Leonardo’s gaze.

“You can, can’t you? I know your name…”

“I am the Shredder…” Shredder rasped quietly.

“No you’re aren’t. The armor is Shredder. I don’t know if you’re him anymore since you swallowed my brother, but you used to be Oroku Saki.”

Shredder visibly flinched at the name, snarling and pulling his head back into his armor as far as it could go. “Don’t say that name…”

“Why? It is your name, isn’t it?” Leonardo asked, “I know it because Draxum told me. He was just a kid back then, but he knows the stories. The stories of the great and noble Oroku saki.”

“What is he doing?” Leo almost snarled, but Draxum held out a hand for silence.

Draxum watched with the utmost curiosity, his eyes shimmering like rubies as he observed Shredder's reaction to every word being said.

“You led the Foot Clan over five hundred years ago, right? Your clan lived in peace, and you learned from the kappa. They taught you ninjitsu and you brought it back to your Clan, didn't you…?”

Shredder gave the lowest grunt. “I remember. I met them when I was young boy playing by the river. I gave them an offering of cucumbers, and as a thanks they gave me my first lesson.”

“I knew you remembered.” Leonardo said, his heart sparking at the implications of what it could mean, “I knew it! Your clan was so… honorable until a great evil came to your land, and you couldn’t fight it off. Do you remember what the evil was…?”

Shredder gave an evil roar and tried to charge the door, though he couldn’t get much of a running start to do any damage. Leonardo held his hands up in peaceful surrender.

“Don’t wanna talk about it! Completely understand!”

Shredder settled back down quickly.

“You must be in so much pain.” Leonardo shook his head slowly as he touched the glass. “Saki… all you wanted to do was protect your clan, and now you’ve had to fight this dark armor for… for years. You… you’re so tired and— and you can’t fight anymore and that's okay! You’ve been fighting for five hundred years…”

Shredder brought the nose of his armor to touch where Leonardo’s hand was, his eyes still watching Leonardo in a quiet observance.

“You don’t have to fight anymore— at least not alone! But Raph… if you can hear me, I need you to fight harder than you ever have. Please… if you d… don’t… then I’ll have to destroy you and I don’t think I can…”

Leonardo rested his head against the door, the coldness of the chamber like sweet relief from the heat of his body.

“I know it's still you in there. I can see your eyes! And I need you to fight this, because if you don't then you’ll destroy me because I can’t destroy you. And then Mikey and Donnie, our baby brothers… they’re gonna have to watch both of us die. Heh…” Leonardo laughed weakly as he wiped his eyes, a wavering smile trying to take hold of his face. “You hear what I said? Baby brothers. Donnie’s older than me, I know, but… it just felt right. Silly Leo huh?”

Shredder didn't answer.

“And not just them. Our father… our sister… our new friends. They’re gonna have to watch it happen. They’re gonna have to watch us die… so I need you to fight this. Please.”

Shredder stared, his eyes like icicles piercing through Leonardo like knives. Still he said nothing. He didn't move, hardly breathed. He just stared.

“Raph…” Michelangelo’s weak voice rasped suddenly, and Shredder snapped his attention to look at the approaching box turtle. Michelangelo was fiddling with his hands in front of him, his head low and eyes wide and sad. “Hi. It’s Mikey. Can you hear me?” He touched the door just as Leonardo was. “I really really want you back. I miss you.”

Shredder stared intently at Michelangelo. Michelangelo looked to Leonardo with a soft whimper, but Leonardo waved him on gently.

“D… do you remember when we ordered that Lou Jitsu video game and… and I really wanted to pick it up all on my own? You were so scared that I would get hurt, because I’m… little and stuff. I’m your baby brother! But even though you were scared, you still eventually let me go? And… when I did get in trouble like you said I would, you didn't yell or shout at me or anything. You just… gave me a hug and helped me! You didn't try to say you told me so even though you did tell me so. Do you remember that?”

Shredder gave a low rumble.

“Raph…” Donatello’s voice came this time, just as straightforward as ever but with a new, gentler tone to it if that were possible. “Do you uh… remember Mrs.Cuddles?”

Shredder gave a sharp growl and pulled back.

“Take that as a yes.” Donatello cleared his throat, “You know how it was my dumb idea for April to bring the doll over in the first place? Just to scare you like a jerk of a little brother?”

Shredder leaned closer once more.

“You… forgave all of us for it… even though it was our fault that the thing nearly killed our family and all of New York? That was pretty cool of you.”

“Red Rover?” This time it was April’s turn to approach, “You’ve always been a good big brother! I remember back when y'all were still eating dumpster scraps and I’d bring y'all snacks any time I could swing it with my parents. And every time, no matter how many snacks I brought, I never seen you eat one cause you were always too concerned with making sure your brothers got something that wasn’t gutter trash.”

Draxum stepped up. “When Michelangelo er… was helping me to change my ways… you hated me. Absolutely despised me, for good reason. I had done terrible things up until that point. Yet… when your brother orange begged you to give me a chance, you did. You didn't trust me, but you trusted him, and you gave me a chance. I thank you now…”

“And when Draxum threw me off a building and I could’ve gotten really hurt you… you dove right down after me. No hesitation, no panic. Just straight down after me and… and you caught me. I was being so obnoxious that day too.”

“My son… My Raphael…” Yoshi was the last to step up, his ears pressed back against his head as he smiled at the Shredder’s eyes. “I remember when you were small enough to fit in my hands. Oh, you were such a fussy baby! I would always sing you and your brothers the same lullaby my grandfather sung to me. You remember how it goes?”

Shredder didn't respond.

“I would hate babysitting beyond the Bon Festival. The snow begins to fall and the baby cries…”

The pupils of Shredder’s eyes dilated, filling almost the entirety of the dark space.

“How can I be happy even when Bon Festival is here…? Unwillingly babysitting thinking of days after mid-summer Bon holiday. The flurry of cold snow continues… and a baby repeating cries. Even come Bon holiday, what is so joyful, no clothes and no sash for attire. The baby is so irritable to cry. That baby’s crying annoys me. Babysitting for a whole day, or even more. Every day I grow thinner. Wishing to get back home in a hurry across the border. That’s my parents' home…” Yoshi gave the softest laugh as he finished the lullaby and wiped his eyes clear of tears. “Oh, how you all loved that song. I… was in a dark place back then— so resentful of where my life was. But you boys helped me more than I could ever thank you for. If there hadn’t have been the need to take care of you, then I… wouldn’t be here today. I would have… done something cowardly. But I’m so glad I didn't. So please, my son… Raphael… let me help you.”

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 16- Epilogue

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for su*cide mention, alcoholism mention, oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Masterlist Kofi

*********************************************

Remembering the Lost Lovers

Today marks the anniversary of the day that shook Japanese hero society to its core.

Three years ago pro heroes Artemis and Hawks went missing after the two went after a dangerous terrorist cell on their own. Although their bodies were never recovered, the two have been presumed dead after the structure was almost completely leveled in the fight. The two have been credited for subduing all but one of the villains, who was apprehended shortly after by pro heroes Deku and Tsukuyomi.

As to the reason why the two lovers took on such a dangerous feat on their own?

According to pro-heroes Dynamight and Shoto, the decades long feud between All Might and Endeavor is to blame. Rumor has it Artemis was set to lose her job over her and Hawks’ involvement and the supposed drama it brought. Desperate to prove that their love wasn’t a hindrance to their work, the two boldly took on a mission too big for just two people to take on without back up. In the wake of their tragic deaths, both All Might and Endeavor received backlash for their role in pushing Hawks and Artemis too far and the clear damage their rivalry had caused. Both agreed to end the feud in order to avoid such tragedy again and, as a show of good faith, stepped down as the heads of their respective agencies. Shoto and Deku have been running things ever since.

On this day let us remember the Lost Lovers of Japan and their bold sacrifice, not just to keep us safe but for each other and their love.

***********************************************

“Pancakes or waffles?”

“Pancakes.”

“Got it.”

Keigo walks into the kitchen where you’re making breakfast, your back to him as you stand over the stove, flipping the bacon in one pan as you begin heating up another. He moves up right behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

“Good morning Love, happy anniversary,” Keigo coos in your ear. “Happy anniversary,” you grin as you turn to press a kiss to his lips. “You see the article Sho sent us?” he asks. “Not yet. What’s it about?” you reply. “Us. Apparently they’re calling us the Lost Lovers of Japan.” “Sounds romantic.” “It is. Apparently we took on the entire terrorist organization together to prove our love wasn’t a hindrance to our work.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Damn even in death they won’t give me full credit,” you joke. “I’m a little offended to be honest. If both of us had gone together from the start? Would’ve had ‘em easy,” Keigo scoffs. “Really now?” “Absolutely. Power of love and all that.” “You’re an idiot.” “But I’m your idiot.” “That you are.”

You turn back to the stove to pour the pancake batter into the now hot pan but Keigo has other plans. He presses tighter against you, dropping another kiss to your shoulder before moving up to your neck. At first you pay him no mind, even though you can feel his growing erection starting to press insistently against you. Then he starts sucking and nipping at your neck more earnestly. You feel your panties dampen immediately but still try to shy away from his touch. “Don’t Kei, the breakfast,” you whine good-naturedly causing him to chuckle even as he tightens his hold around you to make sure you can’t escape. “Fuck breakfast, come back to bed with me,” he insists, grinding his erection into you for emphasis as his hands slip under your shirt and wander to your breasts. “You’re incorrigible,” you groan but the wide grin stretching your face belies any rebuke in the sentence. “Well?” He asks. “Ok just let me take everything off the stove at least.” “No need,” he replies as he literally drags you away from the stove and then using a few feathers to help him hefts you over his shoulder and starts carrying you to the bedroom. Your laughter echoes through your modest apartment as he sends a few more feathers to move things off the stove.

It’s insane to think it’s already been three years since that fateful day you and Hawks decided to give up everything.

You still remember Bakugo blasting in and finding the two of you holding each other close as Shoto created several ice columns to support the roof. He’d been pissed at first but something in the resigned and hopeless look you and Hawks must have had on your faces had made Bakugo pull up short. You and Hawks running away had been his idea, in fact. He and Shoto agreed to tell everyone they never found you and so you and Hawks had stolen away. Since then you’ve bounced from country to country, continent to continent, traveling and performing occasional vigilante work until about a year ago when the two of you finally settled down in one place. Your vigilante work has made the two of you urban legends around town but the city is large enough that no one has managed to identify you both as the vigilantes, nor has anyone recognized the two of you from your previous lives. Initially only Todoroki and Bakugo knew of your true location but the guilt of watching your other friends mourn had soon convinced them to tell Midoriya, Tokoyami, Mina, and Denki. All of you had agreed that visiting was too risky but you and Hawks made sure to call frequently and send postcards from your travels.

Things weren’t always pancakes and sunshine, especially in the beginning. The power of love didn’t magically cure your alcoholism and the two of you had had to contend with the fact you’d literally almost killed yourselves. It had taken time and a lot of healing, but without the pressures of the press and your bosses and work, the two of you had been able to work through it together. Through your vigilantism you’d even developed a healthier relationship with heroics and re-learned precisely what it was that made you want to be a hero in the first place.

It’s not perfect, both of you contend with your occasional bouts of homesickness, but it’s so much better than where you were when the two of you left and for that you are endlessly grateful.

Keigo drops you onto the bed, taking a moment to appreciate your bright laugh as his feathers return to him. It doesn’t take long for him to climb on top of you, pressing kisses all the way up to further encourage those giddy giggles that keep bubbling their way out of your chest. When he finally gets to your lips both of you are almost smiling too much to kiss properly, but then he grinds his hips down in just the right way to draw a moan out of both of you. The kiss turns hungry as Keigo slips his tongue in your mouth. You slide your hands beneath his old tshirt to drag your fingers along his torso before lifting his shirt off and over his head. He returns the favor, making quick work of your shirt before kissing down your torso to the waistband of your pajama pants. He carefully slides them and your panties down at the same time, drinking in every newly revealed inch of bare skin with a reverence you’ll never get used to. Once he’s finally removed the garments he presses kisses to your inner thighs, ever the tease, before finally licking a stripe up your waiting sex. You shiver under his attentive touch as he slowly begins to lave your folds with his tongue before slipping it inside you. He savors the taste of you on his tongue, knowing exactly where to apply pressure and how to lick to have you keening above him and moaning his praises. One of your hands finds its way to his hair to tangle there. At first you just idly play with the locks as you close your eyes and let yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue inside you, but then his nose brushes along your sensitive clit and you can’t help but tighten your hand into a fist, tugging his hair in the process. He takes that as his cue to replace his tongue with his fingers and move his mouth to instead lavish attention on your clit. He licks and sucks at it as if his life depends on it, finger fucking you at a steady pace until you’re crying out your ecstasy, orgasm sending what feels like electricity crackling down your spine and through your fingertips.

Keigo draws back once your orgasm has passed but he isn’t done with you. He presses a gentle kiss to each and every scar he finds on your body, some of which are even from that fateful night three years ago, before he kisses your lips again. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it sends shivers down your spine. “Ready for another round already baby?” Keigo asks as one of his fingers finds its way to your pussy. “I’m always ready for you,” you respond as one of your hands goes to tangle in his wings. His reaction is immediate, eyes fluttering shut as he groans. He uses his feathers to roughly shuck off his sweatpants, his hands otherwise occupied as one supports his weight and the other collects the wetness gathering along your folds again already. “You’re so wet for me baby. You weren’t kidding when you said you were ready,” he teases as he massages your clit briefly before slipping two fingers in you almost immediately. “I want you. Want you inside me,” you tell him, tugging on his feathers to emphasize your point. He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on not spewing his load over your beautiful body immediately. “Patience baby,” he replies instead, adding another finger inside, but how can you be patient when he looks so beautiful above you? You wrap one hand around his achingly hard cock, gathering the precum already welling at the tip and use it as lube as you begin to stroke along his shaft. You have to resist the urge to smirk when his fingers stutter in their rhythm.

He abruptly removes his fingers and you whine at the sudden emptiness, although you can’t complain too much when you notice him use it to hold his balance as he curses and squeezes his eyes shut again. His hips move of their own volition, canting into your hand as he almost instinctively chases the pleasure you’re bringing him. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up sweetheart,” he pants. “Maybe that’s the idea,” you tease but he shakes his head before gently grasping hold of your wrist to stop your hand’s movement. “I want to fill you up baby. Can’t do that if I’m painting that beautiful body of yours instead,” he tells you and it makes something melt inside of you. “What are you waiting for then?” you ask fondly. “So sassy today Love,” he chuckles as he lines himself up. You’re plenty prepared for him, taking each and every inch of his considerable girth with ease as if you were made for him and his dick. “You always take me so well,” he pants out. “You always prep me so well,” you counter. “I’m gonna start moving.” “Ok baby, do it.”

You will never get used to how perfect it feels to have Keigo thrusting into you. He starts out slow and languid, easing you into things before he starts to pick up the pace. Each tug on his feathers and every moan of his name just spurs him on more as he fucks into you. “Fuck baby I love you so much,” he moans. “I love you too. I love you so much Keigo,” you reply without hesitation. He continues to fuck into you harder and harder until finally he hits that perfect spot inside you and you cry out as you fly into your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clench and flutter around him, as he chases his own pleasure now. His rhythm starts to get sloppy as he gets closer and closer, your fingers and quirk playing through his wings to help get him there faster. With one final thrust he moans out your name and topples into his own orgasm, his cum filling you up in the most sinful way as he presses his face into the crook of your neck. After a moment he’s finally spent so he slips out and collapses onto the bed next to you. He’s quick to pull you in to cuddle against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The two of you just stay like that, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and the companionable silence. After awhile, as he rubs your back soothingly and you listen to his heartbeat through his chest, he finally speaks up. “I think it’s about time we head back to Japan,” he admits. You perk up at that, raising your head to look up at your boyfriend properly. “You think so?” you ask and he nods almost immediately. “I know you’ve been getting just as homesick as I have and I think we’re ready.” “It won’t be easy. Three years is a long time to be away with everyone thinking we’re dead.” “I know, but as long as you’re with me I think we’ll be ok. What do you think?” “I think you’re right,” you smile up at him. “Good, because the others would kill me if I tried to marry you when they couldn’t come,” he replies nonchalantly. “What did you just say?” you ask, bolting more upright in bed. “I said-“ “No, no I heard what you said. What do you mean?” you ask cutting him off. He chuckles at the bewildered look on your face as he sits up in the bed too. He leans over to open the bedside drawer, rummaging around for a minute before producing a small box. He turns back to face you fully and opens the box to reveal a simple diamond ring inside. Your hands instinctively fly up to cover your mouth in shock. “(Y/n) (y/l/n),” he begins and you can already feel tears welling in your eyes, “I have loved you since the first night we met. I know it took a lot for us to get here but I would do it all again and again and again so long as it meant I got to stay by your side. Will you make me the luckiest idiot in this whole stupid world and marry me?” “Yes! Absolutely yes,” you gasp around happy tears as you launch yourself into Keigo’s arms. He laughs and it’s the most pure and idyllic sound you’ve ever heard. He pulls back just enough to take the ring from its box and slip it onto the ring finger of your left hand. You stare at it in wonder for a moment before turning back to your boyfriend- no- fiancé and kissing him with all of the overflowing love you feel for him in that moment. “I can’t wait to start a family with you,” Keigo confesses and it makes your heart swell up even more. “Me neither. Let’s hurry up and get back home. I’ve got a wedding to plan,” you smile. “Sounds perfect,” Keigo grins back.

For a long time you thought you were destined for just a good enough ending with a man you didn’t really love. Now you’re staring into the eyes of the love of your life, standing on the cusp of your very own happily ever after.

You’ve never been so glad to be wrong in your life.

Author’s Note: I said a happy ending and I meant it! It made me very happy to write this chapter because Hawks and (y/n), but especially (y/n), have been through so much, it’s great to write them finally happy. This fic was a bit of a monster of an endeavor because of the music element and the themes it was going to have to cover and it’s such a different vibe than Official Accounts that I didn’t know how well it would do on my blog. I am so so happy that it’s received so much love and I’m grateful for all of you that stuck with it. Hopefully I’ll see you on my next fic ❤️

Taglist [closed]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Eleven

Title: Shit Happens

Words: 1610

Warnings: Strong language, character death (minor), canon-typical violence, mentions of drugs

A/N: If you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write for you! 

If you’d like to support me, buy me a Ko-Fi?

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist 

~~~~~~~

Sam and Dean

“Why do I need this when I got this?” Gunman said, holding up his gun.

 “First things first, what are your names?” Dean asked. “We’re gonna need to communicate and we need names.”

 “Thomas,” gunman said after a moment. Blondie was Axel, Bigman was Big Tiny, Shortie was Andrew, and the one with kids was Oscar.

 “Daryl,” Daryl said.

 “Sam.”

 “Dean.”

 “T.”

 “Rick.”

 “Alright, now that we’ve introduced ourselves, tell me why I need a crowbar when I’ve got a gun.”

 “You don’t fire guns. Not unless your back’s against the wall,” Sam said, closing his eyes in frustration.

 “Noise attracts them,” Dean said.

 “We’ll run in two by two. Daryl will run point with T. Sam will be in the middle. Dean and I will bring up the rear with you,” Rick said, pointing his knife at Thomas. “Stay tight, hold formation no matter how close the walkers get.”

 “Anyone breaks ranks, we could all go down,” Dean said.

 “If anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker. End up with a knife to the head,” Rick continued.

 “That’s where you aim. They’ll only go down with a head shot.”

 “You ain’t gotta tell us how to take out a man,” Thomas said.

 “They ain’t men. They’re something else,” T-Dog said.

 “Just remember to go for the brain.” Axel and Big Tiny looked nervously at each other and Thomas picked up his weapons. Daryl and T-Dog left first, Sam and the prisoners following them, and Dean walked behind them all with Rick, shouldering his pack. It was time to go.

 ---

 Everyone but the prisoners were light on their feet. Every time one of them made too much noise, Dean winced and looked over his shoulder.

 “Man, it’s too damn dark in here,” Oscar complained.

 “You’ll hear ‘em before ya see ‘em,” Daryl said. “Hold your weapon up high.”

 A noise was heard in the distance and Axel freaked. “It’s coming!”

 “Shut up,” Sam hissed. Looking at the wall, Sam saw a shadow moving towards the group and he could hear the tell-tale snarl of a walker. They all got ready to fight but once the walkers were both in sight, the prisoners ran towards them, yelling. It was pure chaos and Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. Looking at his family, Rick saw that they all held the same expression as him.

 “They’re going to get themselves killed,” Dean muttered. Daryl shot one and Dean pushed Andrew out of the way before plunging his knife into its brain. Yanking the knife out, Dean looked at them.

 “That’s how you do it.” Taking his place next to Rick, Dean flicked some of the blood off his knife.

 Moving forward, the group ran into more and Daryl shot one again.

 “Go for the brain. Not the stomach, or the heart. The brain,” he said.

 “I hear you. Brain,” Axel said. Another walker came up and Oscar was quick to put it down.

 “Like that?”

 “Uh-huh.” Axel got the next one and then Sam.

 “Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap.”

 More snarling was heard and Sam and Dean watched as the prisoners killed the geeks. They didn’t notice Big Tiny stumble away from the carnage, but when they heard his scream, everyone went running. Rick killed one and Thomas fired three shots into the last one. All the walkers were dead and Dean looked at Thomas.

 “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Dean hissed. “What did we say about guns!”

 He ignored Dean and stared down Rick. With a shake of his head, Sam pushed past Thomas and looked at Big Tiny. He reached for his back and blood was on his hand. Turning him gently, Sam saw scratch marks and he frowned. His eyes met Rick’s and Sam shook his head. Rick shined his light on Big Tiny then turned away.

 “I’m telling you, I don’t feel anything. It’s just a scratch.”

 “I’m sorry, man,” Rick said.

 “I can keep fighting!”

 “You cut that old guy’s leg off to save his life,” Andrew said.

 “Look where it is,” Sam said. “Can’t cut that off.”

 “Guys, I’m fine! Look at me. I’m not changing into one of those things.”

 “There’s gotta be something we can do,” Oscar said. “We could lock him up.”

 “Quarantine him?” Axel suggested.

 “You gotta do something! Why you just standing there, we gotta save him.”

 “There’s nothing we can do,” Rick said.

 “You son of a bitch,” Andrew said. His bat was raised and Dean stepped forward. Then, Thomas hit Big Tiny in the head, knocking him to the ground. After looking at his crowbar, he went to town on Big Tiny, bashing his head in so much, nothing was left. Blood splattered everywhere and Thomas had an unsettling look in his eye. Rick could tell that the other prisoners were slightly in shock and he cleared his throat.

 “We gotta keep moving you said. Shouldn’t stay in one place too long,” Rick said.  

 “He’s right. Let’s go.”

 T-Dog took the front with Sam and Dean was in the back with Daryl and Rick. Thomas was directly in front of them and they kept their eyes trained on him.

 “Ya see the look on his face?” Daryl quietly said. They both nodded. “He makes one move, just give me the signal.”

 The group kept walking until they got to the laundry room. T-Dog entered first, the prisoners second. The room was quiet, no walkers present. Sam’s eyes landed on the clean sheets and he stuffed some in Dean’s bag. Rick had his attention turned to the double doors, walkers clearly behind it. Daryl threw his set of keys to Thomas and stood slightly behind him.

 “I ain’t openin’ that,” he said.

 “Yes you are. If you want this cell block, you’re gonna open that door,” Rick said. “Just the one, not both. We need to control this.”

 Thomas picked the keys up with a huff and walked to the door. Dean steadied his knife, stance wide. Glancing at Daryl, he nodded. Nodding back, Dean faced the doors. Thomas struggled with the keys and Daryl rolled his eyes. When he found the right one, he tried to open the door, but it was stuck. Looking back, he muttered something and then opened both doors.

 “I said one door!” Rick yelled. Dean swore and started swinging at the walkers.

 “Shit happens,” Thomas spat back.

 He hit one and it fell to the ground. One of them got close to Sam and he hit its head, his knife getting stuck. Another one was getting close, so Dean rolled to the ground, taking his knife and driving it up through the geek’s mouth. Out of the corner of Dean’s eye, he saw Thomas shove a walker at Rick. Dean scrambled towards Rick, but Daryl got there first.

 Soon, all of them were gone and Dean stalked towards Thomas. Sam held him back and he struggled to get out of Sam’s grip.

 “What the fuck was that!” Dean yelled.

 “It was coming at me, bro,” Thomas said, shrugging his shoulders.

 “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Rick said. “Shit happens.”

 They were staring at the other, everyone seeing Rick’s jaw tick. The room was tense and when Rick heaved his machete into Thomas’ skull, Andrew swung his bat at him. Rick kicked him down, Sam and Dean quickly pointing their guns at the other two prisoners. Andrew ran away and Rick chased after him. Dean was facing Axel, Sam and Daryl facing Oscar.

 “Put the weapons down,” Sam said.

 “Get down on your knees,” Daryl spat. Carefully, Oscar knelt down and threw his axe away.

 “We don’t have no affiliation to what just happened,” Axel said. “Tell ‘em Oscar!”

 “Stop talking, man.”

 “Put your weapon down and get on your knees,” Dean said, cocking his gun. He did it with shaky movements, and T-Dog kicked their weapons away. Once Rick got back, he questioned them.

 “We didn’t have nothing to do with that,” Oscar said.

 “You didn’t know? You knew. Daryl, let’s end this now.”

 “Sir, sir, you gotta listen, please! It was them that was bad, it wasn’t us!”

 “That’s convenient.”

 “You saw what he did to Tiny. He was my friend. Please, we ain’t like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I ain’t no killer,” Axel said. He was scared and they could see some tears in his eyes. “We ain’t the violent kind, they were! I swear to god! I wanna live!”

 Dean kept his gun trained on Axel and Rick went over to Oscar.

 “What about you?”

 “I ain’t never pleaded for my life. I’m not gonna start now. So you do what you gotta do.”

 After a moment, Rick pulled his gun away and gestured for everyone to do the same. Quietly, Rick led the prisoners to Cell Block B. Daryl unlocked the door, and Rick shoved Axel inside, Oscar following. Bodies were in the opening of every cell, their brains splattered all over the floor.

 “I knew these guys,” Axel said. “These were good men.”

 “Let’s go,” Rick said.

 “So you’re just gonna leave us here?” Oscar asked. “Man, this is sick!”

 “We’re locking down this cell block. From now on, this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it. That was the deal.”

 Rick walked out and Dean looked at the two men.

 “You think this is sick? You don’t wanna know what’s outside,” Dean said.

 “Consider yourselves the lucky ones,” Rick said.

 “Sorry ‘bout your friends, man,” Daryl said.

 “Word of advice,” T-Dog said. “Take those bodies outside and burn them.”

[letsunity]

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Cold Lullabies

With the information that Raffle delivered, Kenlha wanted to hear their side of the story. However, she struggled to muster the gut to do so, knowing the pain they must feel.

Every day, Kenlha misses Morast, wishing that she’d never been their padawan. Maybe the Clawdite would still be alive if Kenlha was dumped with another master, someone like Kit Fisto or Ki-Adi Mundi, the latter being a sociopath. Mundi was better than Mace Windu, the prick.

She has an idea how they feel. Though instead of losing one, they’ve lost many. Not only their batchmates but prior mother-figure, Master Bastet. 

Master Fisto, Master Koon and Master Kenobi believed that she was best for this squad, they trusted her to care for them. In order to do that, she needed to know as much as possible.

Not only that, but share as well. They’ll be fully open to each other, no secrets between them. That’ll build trust and maybe make them almost competent. 

The twins, however, are crafty bastards. 

Foxy would direct the conversation in one of his many attempts to flirt. Thumbs would egg him on while Ballast laughed. 

Pepper, being the only medic, could say that he was busy with one of his idiot brothers. Given how often this lot gets injured, she can’t argue that he’s was a busy guy. 

It was a waiting game. She’d have to ambush one of them, get them comfortable with her. 

This togruta space witch is even craftier than these twins.

While trying to mentor Brisk and Luna, she’d wait. 

Eventually, Kenlha’s time came, just not how she wanted it to. 

On one of the missions, Pepper was hurt, the fool more focused on protecting Foxy. He got an infection from the wound, even contracting a virus. Foxy was adamant that they not go back to Kamino, leaving them to follow Pepper’s fevered orders. 

It inspired her to start practicing medicine, only for her to realise how complicated it was. 

With perseverance and a visit from a clone named Kix, Peps was on his way to getting back on his feet. 

Since he couldn’t run away, Kenlha would take advantage of the only moment she had. 

“Looking better by the day,” Kenlha complimented, sitting next to Pepper’s bed. “You’ll be giving out stickers any day, buddy.”

“Goose will be thrilled,” the medic continued, wondering how high it’s body count was now. “Ryder needs a new Nexu sticker. Then I can make the hot Cheetos dipped in mashed potatoes scratch and sniff for him.”

It was sweet to see the new Ryder bring such a gift to Pepper, he adored it. 

“Is it alright if I ask you something?”

“You can always confide with me, Ken. Doctor patient confidentiality ensures your secrets are safe with me.”

He was a soft boi, a good brother to her and an excellent doctor. When she looked into those mismatched eyes and his soft smile, it was easy to forget what he’d endured. What both twins went through together. 

“I’d like to know about before me and before Master Bastet. I’m a Jedi, I can sense your instinctive caution around me, even though you don’t show it. As your General, your sister, I want to be there for you as you are for me.”

Perhaps it was the fever, maybe it was exhaustion, but he gave somewhat of a summary of what transpired with Master Laverna. She could feel the trauma, especially regarding the force-choke.

He had to hold his neck, recalling the events as though he was re-living them again. 

Raffle forgot to mention that the Jedi’s death was an accident, but in her opinion, he deserved it. While she’s biased, being their sister, she can’t stand people mistreating the clones. 

Being so close with the twins, she’s disgusted by that dead Cathar.

“I... sometimes I don’t think Foxy should’ve gotten involved,” the medic sighed, like a weight was lifted from his chest. 

Understandably, Kenlha was surprised, though she wouldn’t voice it. He was sharing with her, she can’t ruin this. She can understand him more, and by doing that, she can be a better sister. 

“He had a padawan, a girl, possible 11 or so, named Teles. I cut off her leg, but didn’t cut high enough, and she died, likely septic shock. I held her hand as that light fell away. Nothing he could’ve done to me would compare to feeling her going limp and cold.”

He felt responsible for her. He did everything he could and she still died. It’s a pain that Kenlha empathised with more than she wished she did. Her eyes burned as salty water seeped through her ducts, dribbling down her yellow skin.

“I often feel that I killed my master, Morast Tane. They were strict, but they were better to me than anyone before. They tried to guide my energy onto something productive and constructive, kind of like a parent to me,” Kenlha started, recalling the events herself.

“It was on a hot planet called Nevarro, magma and volcanic ash littering the ground. While fighting an army of droids, some damned flyers shot from above, causing the ground to become unstable.

I didn’t think. I jumped into the air, slicing through those bastards. One that I bisected fell, crashing into that unstable ground and causing Master Morast to fall. I tried to pull them up, but they fell into the lava. 

The only word they could muster was Run before the cries started. Being outmatched, outgunned, we had to leave. There wasn’t even anything to bury them,” Kenlha sighed, the sensation of something clawing at her throat adding to the tears. “I know the pain of being responsible, even when others tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

The medic absorbed her tale, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. The togruta held his hand, supporting herself and him in the emotional moment. 

There were days she wished it was her instead of Master Morast.

“Do you remember the Endeavour, that ship that crashed down, killing two-thousand troopers?” Pepper started, his voice trembling. “I... could’ve stopped that from happening.”

She waited, feeling his grip tighten around hers.

“At Geonosis, while Foxy, Mozzarella, Springer and Locke were fighting droids, I and a few others were sent back to look for surviving Jedi. Instead, I found someone with my face, only far younger.

I knew who he was, everybody did. The Maker’s chosen child, the payment for his involvement in making us. The one that he named Boba, raising as his own.

If I’d just taken him in or hell, even shot him, then all of those clones would still be alive. Master Windu and Master Skywalker wouldn’t have been hurt. Instead of that, I let him go, lying to my fellows that I didn’t find anybody.”

“While the Endeavour was a tragedy, I think you did the right thing. They were only a child, weren’t they? Even by Mandalorian standards, he was a kid, right?”

“Master Bastet said something similar. And she’s dead too. I tend to have bad luck regarding Jedi.”

He was afraid to get close to her in case she died. It’s an understandable fear, she was terrified of ever having a master again.

Kenlha was scared to even be a Master, worried that she’d never live up to Morast with her young girls. Brisk and Luna were outliers too, so she had an advantage there, but still. 

There are days where she wondered if Morast would’ve been better for them.

“I won’t promise that I’m not gonna die. We all die eventually, many earlier than they should. What I will promise, Peps, is that I’ll be here for every day that it gets hard. During the days it feels like there can’t be a tomorrow, I’ll be right here to listen. All of us, even Goose.”

“Foxy’ll need an ear, too. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”

“He was adamant that we steer clear from Kamino. Would I be pushing it if I asked why?”

She watched those green and brown eyes ponder, thinking over her question. As with before, he chose to share.

“Foxy and I aren’t just twins. There’re loads of twins, Echo and Fives from the 501st for example. We, however, are literal twins. Our clump of cells split and we grew attached at the shoulder,” he explained, motioning to his tattooed shoulder. “The Kaminoans, having not seen it often, experimented on us to prevent it from happening again. Our earliest memories have made us dislike them, especially the one named Nala Se.”

It made sense and she could agree with it.

“Then to ensure that we don’t go, I think I’ll have to learn some doctor lessons from you. I’ll be your, um, what’s that dumb thing Jackal says?”

“P-to-the-wan?”

“Yep, I’ll be your medic padawan,” she smiled, earning one from him as well. It was a beautiful thing, given his experiences. “Have a sleep, pal. We’ll give you a few minutes of peace.”

“There’s tape in Boots’ room,” he chuckled. She smirked, knowing that it would be for Ballast. “It... was good talking with you, Ken.”

“You too, Doctor Bro.”

Kenlha will talk with Foxy as well. She’ll talk with all of her siblings, assuring them that she’s there for ‘em. Not just her clones but her padawans, too. 

She wasn’t going to lie, it felt good talking to Peppy about her feelings as well.

Feelings aren’t accepted in the Jedi Order, so he made her feel valid. It was something she desperately needed from someone, and she was happy it was from Peps.

This is a good family she’s found.

Love you guys!

Tags: @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @foxlock​ @lusiawonder @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @namesmox @generaltano @lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice 

I am evil, yis 😈😈

PS - it’s 3:23am lol brain is working overtime!

[qvid-pro-qvo]

hi :-) maybe the prompts “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” and "Wow." with Sonny please?

we’re back, baby! consider this a woohoo for season 22. sonny carisi x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2164

rating: e for everyone, for long-distance coming together once more (hurt/comfort. no trigger warnings. just love.)

-

It’s been one year, three months, and nine days since you’ve seen Dominick Carisi, Jr. in person. You would add the hours and the minutes, but you think that everyone you talk to gets the picture. When you mention your boyfriend, it’s the one who’s across a country, the one who you call every night, the one who works a tireless job as an NYPD detective. They know, because you can’t stop talking about him.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart. You’re gonna marry him, you can’t help but gush, because there’s no one else for you in the whole wide world.

Your friends think you’re insane. After all, there’s something about long-distance that makes everyone nervous. But you don’t let them make you antsy, because you’re the one who gets a call from him every night, especially the nights he works.

Those calls get you through a lot. Those calls get you through good days and bad, those calls are a majority of the relationship now. Calls, FaceTimes, voicemails, texts, emails even… that’s all you both have.

And they go a little something like this.

-

The first call you make after you land in California is to his cell.

Leaving him had felt like leaving your heart and soul back in New York, it’d felt like getting torn apart, it’d felt like a lot of horrible things. But you’d had to, and Sonny’d known that.

You’d known it, too. But knowing doesn’t make packing up any easier. Knowing doesn’t make the plane ride any less lonely. Knowing doesn’t make unpacking a box and finding one of his shirts that accidentally traveled with you any less world-shattering.

It’s to his cell. He picks up almost immediately. You can hear the hustle and bustle of a New York street behind him, a few honks. It’s early, after all, and you’ve traveled back in time. Your body thinks it’s noon, when it’s really nine, and when you step off of the plane the sun hits yours eyes, bright and unexpected. You’re dressed too warm for California, since it’s perfect for the place you left.

You hate it here.

It’s not home.

“Hey,” he breathes into the receiver. You just let out a little gasp. The tears immediately spring to your eyes, but you do your best to keep your head held high, looking around for your luggage.

“Hey, Sonny. I made it. Just. Wanted to let you know.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

The words aren’t enough. They don’t feel like they ever will be.

“So, how’s California look?” he finally asks, when the silence stretches on a little too long. You’ve missed your luggage on the carousel and finally snag it, balancing your phone on your shoulder as you pull off the stuff that’s waiting for you.

So many bags. Your whole life packed away. The rest of it getting shipped.

Your whole life except Sonny. Doesn’t feel like much, but you know it’ll get better. Eventually. With time.

“Sunny,” you finally say, and he snorts.

“Not too sunny without me, I hope.”

You manage a laugh. It’s watery, but it’s a laugh. “Never.”

With time.

-

The morning calls are for you.

He’s already up and at ‘em by the time you’re stirring, and his phone is usually what rouses you. It’s a brilliant alarm clock, one that has you sitting as upright as you can and pulling him close to your ear. His voice makes you want to pull yourself under the covers, settle in and listen for a few hours or days.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You know by this point he’s on his second or third cup of coffee. It depends on how bad the cases are that day, how deep he is in paperwork. But even with the caffeine, the 7:00 AM for you is 10:00 AM for him, and he still sounds like he just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning,” you return, and he chuckles a little, because the sound of your voice is the same level of exhausted. And yet, with his call, you’re rising, throwing back the blankets, moving to the bathroom to start your routine. He’s got fifteen minutes, and you’ve got thirty-five before you have to leave, and you’ll spend the twenty without his voice in your ear thinking about his voice in your ear, and maybe texting him, too.

-

The nighttime calls are for him.

Those, you get to see his face. After all, your 7:00 PM is his 10:00 PM, and some days he’s actually going to bed at that hour. Some days he’s at your shared apartment, sitting in bed with your pillows holding himself up.

Some days he’s in the office. Those calls are short, but sweet.

But what ends up happening is that you start your day with him, and some days, some blissful nights, he gets to go to sleep with you. Seeing you.

“Hey, baby,” you say. You’re usually just getting home at that point, tossing keys into a dish, shutting your door and locking it tight so that Sonny can hear it, see it. It gives him reassurance, the length of a country away. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” he starts out, always, even when the day’s been thrilling, brilliant, a great time. “A day without you.”

And you coo and hum, and he laughs at the scrunch of your nose, and the two of you begin and end your nighttime routines, the days drifting away, another night closer to being reunited.

-

The last call you make from California is for the both of you.

“Wow.” It’s all he can manage. After all, the nights come with face time, and you’ve posed the camera perfectly. You’re dressed to the nines, and you can tell his eyes are scanning you from head to toe. “Jealous of whoever gets to see you at dinner.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “My bosses, Dom. They’re having a going away dinner. A week early, but.”

“I get it, I get it. You’re wanting to tease.” His voice is light, and you wink at him, reaching for your phone and pulling it close so you can see the details. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks a little ragged – it’s been a tough week, he’s told you, one case dogging them day and night. You’re hoping that you can cheer him up, when you get to see him, sooner rather than later.

“Tease you, Dominick Carisi, Jr.? I wouldn’t dare!” you say, and the two of you laugh, through the exhaustion.

“I miss you,” he states. It’s not an admittance, because the two of you have never hidden it. You miss each other, and as your scheduled return date edges closer you can feel the nervous energy. He’s never looked more drained, and you’d do anything to take it from him, the exhaustion.

“I’ll be back soon,” you assure him, and he nods. The conversation lasts a few moments more, and then he has to go, and then you have to go. And you leave with a promise, that you’ll be there before he knows it.

Sooner than he thinks, that’s for sure.

-

One year. Three months. Nine days. But today, that number falls back to zero.

It’s the first call you make once you land, stomp out your boots of the snow you weren’t expecting. You’re used to California winter, mild and warm, and so the New York chill takes you by surprise. Makes you blink, when you peer out from under the awning of the rental car pick-up and feel snow land in your hair. But it’s home, the snow on your boots, the way the wind whips up around your face. You hold your phone up to your ear and let out a shiver.

It rings. Once, twice, three times.

“Hey, doll.”

He answers, and his voice is weary. It’s late, after all, and you’ve lost a few hours, so the direct flight, while five-and-a-half hours, deposits you eight-and-a-half hours in the future with a stomach rumbling for real food and no sun in sight.

He answers. It’s with a yawn, and you realize that you’re hearing the sound of slamming filing cabinets, and you think that in the background you can hear his lieutenant’s voice. He’s living his life, in his world, and you’re so proud of him you can hardly speak. Because you know that he’s working hard when he works late. Working himself to death, it feels like sometimes.

“Hey, Dom. Is this a bad time?” you ask, immediately. Because your surprise is one that works just as well if you’re at the apartment, if you’re cooking him a warm meal or cozied up on the couch for him. But his noise is a negative.

“Nah, just finishing up a case. Took a perp into custody. Wanted to stay behind and see it through before I ditched.”

You’re not fighting exhaustion. You’re trembling from the cold, and shivering from the exposure, and vibrating with happiness as you hand over your credit card to the man behind the counter. The plane ride isn’t beating your delight as you grin at the sound of him. The way his words are lined with the effort of the whole team.

“Great, great. That’s great,” you say, and he must pick up on something. Because his answering hum is teasing, light.

“You sound like the cat that caught the canary,” he laughs. After all, you both have gotten intimately familiar with voices these long months apart, and you know he’s right. So you don’t argue it, just laugh, bite your lower lip as you take your card back.

“Well. Maybe I am,” you say lightly, and push your way through the lines of cars. You keep beeping, hoping to hear something, with no luck just yet. “Are you the canary?”

He chuckles, and you know he’s shrugging with it. “I sure hope so.”

Maybe he’s tilting his head back, leaning in his chair, looking up at the ceiling of the precinct as he talks. Maybe he’s bending forward, hand in his hair, elbows on his knees. Maybe he’s crossing a leg over the other, tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair. You’ll know soon enough, won’t have to imagine for much longer.

“I think you are. After all, I’ve laid the perfect trap for you,” you say, and you make your voice light, airy. Your carry on and three suitcases are being dragged slowly and carefully behind you, and you finally hear the beep of the car you’re meant to drive for the next three days. It’ll only do a job for one, after all, but it doesn’t need to know that.

“The perfect trap. What’s that?”

“A stop on my way home.” The trunk of the rental beeps, pops open. “I’ve been thinking about it for five hours.”

A beat passes, and you almost think the call’s been dropped. But then Sonny clears his throat, and your grin stretches wide. “What?” There’s a shift in his throat, that you can hear. One that comes with him sitting up. You can see it, if you close your eyes, ignore the windiness of the parking garage.

“Well, you see, if I book it, I can make it that shop before they close. What it’s called… the one by our place?”

And you hear his breath catch. It’s a beautiful sound. It works perfectly with the sound of your luggage tossed in the trunk.

“Yeah, that one. And if I really hurry, then I might be able to pick you up from the precinct.” Your eyes close for a moment, dip your head as you pull back and close the back of the car. When you make it to the car, turn it on, you can hear something like a hiccup leave him, the shuffle of papers, his jaw pop as it unclenches.

“You’re – you’re back in New York?” And his accent is so thick the words run together. “You’re home?”  

And when you laugh it’s thick, too. For a different reason, one that has you wiping at your face, as the engine runs. You sniffle, and he sniffles a little, too, and you can hear his lieutenant’s voice again in the background, muffled.

“Just – just a second, lieu,” he mumbles. He sounds dazed. Confused.

“Stay there,” you insist. “Okay? I’m coming to get you, and then I’ll take you home, and…”

“And?” His voice is hoarse. Cracks, and you chuckle despite yourself. The thought of home. The thought of Sonny Carisi, after all this time. The thought of pulling him close and hugging him tight and leaning into his touches. His touches. The car’s engine is running, and one of your hands reaches for the wheel, runs your fingers along the curve.

“And be yours again, Dom. For as long as you’ll have me.”

[mariamermaid]

You should see me in a crown

(young) Han Solo x Fem Reader

Summary: Han meets his ex-girlfriend and comes to realize, that she might have lied about her actual descent…

Words: 2.3k

A/N; inspired by the song from billie eilish

Halloween Masterlist

 The situation was as always unfortunate for Han and Chewbacca, they just always found trouble when they truly didn´t need it. The planet Arrran was fairly known within the higher circles of the Republic, mostly due to their high resources of special metals used for weapons. It also led back to the factor, that the royal family was rich, popular and enjoyed a high impact in political acts. Han Solo was hired to get a certain type of stone metal and since he neither could afford to buy it the legal way, nor was able to steal it, he found himself locked up in a cell in the royal prison in the capital city. The palace, a dark grey, almost black building with many high towers and golden embellishments was decorated with white tiles in the interior room. Long red curtains hung from windows as big as the millennium falcon, dropping like blood on the floor and the flags with the kingdom’s sigils hung from the ceiling. Han was kneeling at the ground of his prison cell, trying to figure out the mechanism to unlock the door. Chewie roared, but Han ignored him, too focused on the small mechanism in front of him. “Chewie, shut up! I´m trying to concentrate”, he hushed his tall friend. Chewie opened his mouth again, but a different voice interrupted him.

“You should listen to your Wookiee when he tries to warn you.”

Hans head snapped up, his dark blonde hair falling back and his eyes widened, recognizing the voice. “Y/N”, he breathed. He couldn´t believe his eyes when you starred down at him. You wore your hair neatly put together and a uniform of the Arran kingdom out of red and black fabric, the symbol and details embroidered in gold. He remembered the night where he met you in a pub in Boonta in the outer rim. He got himself involved in a fight and you helped kicking ass, as a thank you, he helped you getting to the Bormea-Sector. While travelling together you were somewhat involved in a romantic relationship with the famous smuggler. To this day you had thought of your time spend together as a good memory, but finding him the cell in front of your feet, you questioned your judgment. You rose your eyebrow, questioning. “What are you doing here?”

His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes traveling up and down your body. “You never told me you´re from Arran.” “I told you, it didn´t matter, at least back then.”

He leaned back up, brushing dust off his dirty clothes and pulled himself closer with his hands on the bars. His clear blue eyes meeting yours. “Y/n, you need to help me get out.”

“You tried to steal from us, be happy if they don´t behead you with the same metal you´d try to steal. The king will send out guards to get you, he will decide your punishment.” You explained coldly. “Y/n, how-“ “I´m loyal to my kingdom, Han.”

His mouth opened again; eyes full of anger. “You changed”, he pressed out.

“Maybe for better.”

 Bite my tongue bide my time

Wearing a warning sign

Wait till the world is mine

 You left the prison with quick steps and hurried to your rooms, feeling your voice inside your throat shaking and your legs getting weak. Never had you expected to find him in Arran or for him to find out the truth. Throwing yourself on the king-sized satin bed, you starred at the ceiling. Candles enlightened the room, even though the sun was shining, but clouds quickly came closer and soon the sky would be grey and dull. You were loyal to your kingdom, but there was a small part inside of you, that didn´t want him dead. Deep down, Han was a good man. It had been a mission; you were sent undercover. It was never intended for him to find out you were a princess.

Sighing you sat up on your bed. “Kaslia, I need to get ready!” You exclaimed and your personal maid entered the room. She wore the typical grey uniform of maids and nodded. “I need to talk to father”, you added explaining and joined her in front of the collection of dresses. “Is it about the prisoner?” She asked curious. Technically, she wasn´t allowed to, but you had grown up with Kaslia; she was like a big sister. “Yes, I´m going to save him.”

 Visions I vandalize

Cold in my kingdom size

Fell for these ocean eyes

Your father sat in his office, the glass front facing his desk with a view over the city. The desk and shelves were dark auburn wood filled with books, cards and more books. A golden globus of the planet floated on his desk as a decoration and he was currently reading through newly submitted reports from the factories. He didn´t wear his armor, a rather simple garment on his broad body. Even in his older years, he continued to work out and train for fights and with his grey hair tied together and the thick beard, he could look frightening. But his glance softened when you stepped into his office. “Ah, my daughter, a sight for sore eyes! Beautiful as always!”

He greeted you and rose from his chair. You smiled softly at him. “Father.”

He pointed to the chair across from him, gesturing you to sit down. “I see you´re here with purpose.” The velvet dress hugged your body, while golden plates sat on your shoulders and a black cap fell down your back. Your heels clicked on the stone marbled floor as you sat down. Your father leaned back in his chair, arms resting on the table with his hands crossed.

“The prisoner, who tried to steal from us- “

“I heard he can be charming, this Han Solo”, he interrupted your thought-out plan. You nodded a little thrown off. “Do you remember when you sent me to the mission to the Bormea sector? He helped me back then.” “Do you expect that to change something?”

“I expect it to milden your punishment, he saved me and my cover back then.” “By that, I can assume, that he doesn´t know about your identity.”

“He doesn´t.” You sighed. Your father always had been a hard debate partner, he trained you since you could walk. To him, you weren´t just his princess, or his daughter; you were his everything and one day, you´d sit on the same throne. He nodded. “I understand, Y/n. I´ll give a second thought and see you at the meeting then.”

 The time till the meeting for Han went by so slowly, it almost drove you insane. You hated the fact that he was still able to slip back into your mind, even though you hadn´t seen him months before. Kaslia cleared her throat and you flinched, getting pulled back from your thoughts. “The meeting will start, are you ready?” You nodded while standing up again, and she stepped closer to put the crown on to your head. “What if will you do, if he´ll be punished to death?” Kaslia asked you as she was still close enough to you. You rose a little from the bended position, holding your head high again. The gold crown with the bloodstones filling you with strength. “I won´t let it happen.”

 Han was standing at the side of the large room; the middle was filled by the two thrones. There were for the king and queen, but since your mother had died when giving birth to you, it was now yours. Four guards were placed at the entrance, two at the side of the king and two to watch the prisoners. “Princess Y/n of Arran!” The voice of the guard echoed through the hall.

All eyes were on you, but Han´s and Chewbacca´s were the most surprised. You wore the same dress, the cape on the floor being pulled by your steady steps. Lips painted the shade of blood and the crown on your head shinning like the golden sun.

 You should see me in a crown

I'm gonna run this nothing town

Watch me make 'em bow

One by one by one

One by one by

 The guards bowed as you walked past them. For a millisecond, you glanced to Han and Chewie, but they couldn´t read your face. You knew the dress fit you well, but the look on Han´s face? You knew to treasure it. Your father waited in front of his throne until you found your place next to him, to sit down. “The prisoners will now evaluate the situation from their eyes.”

Han and Chewie stepped for, well he needed a little push from one of the guards, as he was still not able to tear his eyes off your shape.

 You should see me in a crown

Your silence is my favorite sound

Watch me make 'em bow

One by one by one

One by one by one

 It was Chewbacca, who gave his friend a rather rough kick against his leg, which brought Han out of his rigidity. “Your highness”, he made an awkward bow. “I was hired for a client to bring the metal.” “Who is this client of yours?” Your father´s voice was hard and the room felt like shaking as he spoke up. Han seemed nervous. “I try to keep the identity of my clients private”, he paused while taking together his courage. “I´m sure you´ll understand as you like to beware the identity of your daughter safe when on mission.” You slightly inclined your head to the side, interested to watch. Han was playing his cards well, better than you had expected. “I reread the report from the mission, where you helped her. She didn´t mention you before.”

“The importance of secret keeping within missions may vary from the side of perspective”, you explained, voice just as steady as your fathers. “Yet, my daughter has found an unexplainable liking in you.” Neither of you looked directly at each other, both focused on Han and Chewie.

“He saved my life.”

“And so, did she”, Han interrupted again, this time looking back at you. “She singlehandedly took out a dozen of men, just to free me.”

“Why didn´t you try to make a deal to win the metal and instead try stealing it?”

“Your highness, no offense, but would´ve you given it to me?”

 Count my cards watch them fall

Blood on a marble wall

I like the way they all

Scream

 Silence flooded the hall; your father was scratching his beard and Han glanced back and forth between the two of you. You swallowed, trying to look as calm as possible.

Suddenly your father placed his hand on yours. The action took you by surprise and you were sure, he was aware of it. “As my daughter explained previously, you apparently saved her life, so I will spare yours and this of your hairy friend.”

“His name is Chewbacca-“, you fell in his word and Chewie roared in agreement.

“Anyway, you´re free to leave the planet. I advise to do to as quickly as possible, before I change my mind.” A small smile started growing on your lips and Han nodded happily.

“Thank you, your highness and if you ever need something, I´ll be more than happy to help out.”

Your father´s jaw was still tightened; you knew he did it because you had asked him to. “I have my own resources”, he explained with his voice low as always.

“I was actually talking to the princess.”

“Have a safe journey, Han Solo.” You returned.

Tell me which one is worse

Living or dying first

Sleeping inside a hearse

I don't dream

 You kept a safe distance while watching Han and Chewie pack their things, to them and to your father. It was an easy guess, that some kind of aftermath would follow after your actions and you were okay with that.

As the sun set and dusk laid thickly, you snuck to the millennium falcon, Kaslia covering for in the mean-time. You wore the uniform again, the dress was impractical, but you let the hair open. “What will your client think if you come home with empty hands?” Han looked up to find you in his ship, smirking like nothing ever happened. “You know, I always manage to get away with it.” He stepped down from the storing space and Chewie watched the situation from the side, acting like repairing something.  “Maybe it´s better if you don´t return with empty hands then.”

You pulled out a small cotton bag and threw it to Han, who caught it while furrowing his brows. He found the metal in it and couldn´t help smiling. “You lied to him for me, I never saved you, not once. It was always you who saved me.” He laid the bag on the table and stepped closer to you.

“One day, I´ll be sitting on that throne and I´d like to do it with a clear mind.”

You paused. “Not all lies are bad.”

“I liked you more in the cargo pants than with the crown on.” He grinned and put a strand of hair behind your ear. “We don´t get to choose.” Sadness laid in your voice and Han pulled you into a hug. “I know.”

 You say

Come over baby

I think you're pretty

I'm okay

I'm not your baby

If you think I'm pretty

 When he left your embrace, you starred up to him. “Maybe I should come and visit you?” He suggested and you let out a chuckle. It was a stupid idea; you both knew it. It lightened the mood though. “You´re going to be good at it, you know? Reigning and all.” You hummed in response and pressed a simple kiss on his warm lips.

 “You should see me in a crown

I'm gonna run this nothing town”

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - some badass demigod training!!

Hello, and welcome back to...my horrible explanation for being absent! Coming up on this episode, you'll see me explain that I had my first 2 lacrosse games of the season and was left with bruised ribs. If anyone ever says that women's lax isn't a real sport cuz there isn't contact, you can tell them that someone from a fanfic website said they had bruised ribs from playing.

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. We're starting to get some actual plot movement I think so have fun with that. Honestly, I kinda forgot what happened in here so...yeah. Please comment, like, follow, and reblog! Stay safe & happy reading!

- your author

Ω ♆ Ω

Percy and Annabeth woke up to the sound of a startled shout. Frank's startled shout, to be specific. They both shot up right away, their battle instincts kicking in, but Frank had seen enough.

"Seriously guys!? Again?" he exclaimed.

"Nothing happened!" Annabeth reassured, "We just fell asleep!"

"We did kiss a little," Percy muttered, and Annabeth shot him a death glare.

"Not. Helping," she whispered scathingly.

A sense of complete déjà vu washed over Percy. Except this time, the rest of the Seven were standing in the doorway, watching on with various amused expressions on their faces.

"Oh, this is perfect. Coach Hedge is gonna love this," Leo smiled in maniacal glee.

"No, Leo," Piper ordered, "You're not going to do that. Instead, we are going to get this meeting over with so I can get some sleep."

"Aw...you ruin all my fun!" he exclaimed.

"Someone's gotta do it when Calypso isn't here," Piper said.

It was true. Calypso and Piper are probably the only ones who could actually control Leo. Calypso because of Leo's fear of losing her or just general fear of her, and Piper because of her charmspeak.

"Ok! That's enough. We're getting sidetracked. We need to start this meeting." Jason clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

He gave Percy a meaningful look; one which said to 'take it from here.' So Percy did.

"Um, well, Annabeth and I wanted to talk to you guys about what's been going on. We need to come to an agreement on what we are allowed to say and do with the Avengers. I don't think we should show them the full extent of our powers because it seemed like those spies were looking for a reason to lock us up," he started, "And I'm not particularly fond of being put in a cell. How about you?"

"Yeah. And we need to figure out a way to deal with the bombings without them figuring us out. The mortals seemed pretty Hades-bent on releasing the big secret, and that never bodes well for people like us. I know that we need their help, but I don't trust them." Annabeth said.

"We can just say we were born with the powers, and have no idea why. I mean, it's technically true," Jason offered.

The others all nodded in agreement.

"Ok, now what about the pattern? What is it?" Piper asked.

"All of the places are big parts of the Greek and Roman world. Brooklyn Bridge is near Manhattan, the home of the Gods, Portland: Mt. St. Helens, where Typon used to be held, LA: entrance to Hades, Long Island: Camp Half-blood, and San Francisco: Camp Jupiter," Annabeth answered.

"Woah," Jason whispered, shocked.

"Yeah, but that's not our biggest concern. We also need to figure out how to hide our identities from the world while we're fighting with the Avengers," Annabeth said.

Everyone else there hadn't even thought of that. It comes in real handy to have a daughter of Athena around sometimes. Ok, not sometimes, all the time. All of them would be really dead without her quick thinking and planning.

"Um, I could try to see if the Aphrodite cabin could cook something up?" Piper suggested, "But most of them are still getting used to fighting, so they won't really know what to make. They need help with the designs."

Leo shot up from where he had slumped down into the desk chair, "I can help! Well, the Hephaestus cabin can. We can help design it so it's battle-ready."

"Good. We'll need those soon, I think. I have a feeling that we're going to have a lead soon, so we need to be ready when it comes. This is just one quest, so there is no need for people to think we're some kind of superheroes," Annabeth said.

"Aw! But I already had a name picked out!" Leo exclaimed.

He looked like he was about to let them in on his superhero name, but Annabeth held up a hand with a glare that clearly said to not speak unless he wanted to lose some very important parts of him. That kept him quiet, for sure.

"Is that all?" Frank asked, towering over them all.

"For now, yes. Remember, say the absolute minimum and stick to twisting the truth. If you reveal any new information without the others knowing, call a meeting to let us know," Annabeth confirmed, nodding her head.

"Great, now I can go back to sleep," Percy said, pulling Annabeth back down with him.

The others filed out soon after that, already hearing Percy's soft snores as they left and returned to their respective rooms. Ok, so Jason and Piper stayed in the same room like Percy and Annabeth did, but nothing happened. It was just nice to be in the arms of someone who cares about you, you know?

Ω ♆ Ω

"Up and at 'em, kiddos! It's training day!" Tony gleefully exclaimed over the speakers that Percy was absolutely sure he did not see in his room.

Percy groaned when he saw what time it was: 6:00 AM. He knew he wasn't allowed to (and that it was wrong, of course), but he wanted to kill Tony so badly in that moment. It would be quick! Nobody would suffer!

But, alas, he had to actually work with the man-child. It might not come off like it, but Percy takes war very seriously, and this was starting to feel like a war. Or at least, it would become one if they didn't stop it soon. And to do that, they needed the Avengers, apparently.

That was the only reason that he followed Annabeth in getting up and ready for the day. He took a little longer than Annabeth, but at 6:30 AM, they were stepping out of his room. They saw that the others were slowly doing the same. They were all tired. There weren't any big dream incidents, but that doesn't mean that staying up until midnight and then waking up at six in the morning won't do something to you. Even Leo looked exhausted, with big puffy eyes from rubbing them in an attempt to wake himself up quicker. If Leo Valdez was tired, then you knew that it was too early for this.

Also, you have to remember that they'reteenagers. Teenagers aren't meant to be up super early- it's a scientific fact, Percy thinks. Annabeth once told him something about their melatonin not releasing until later at night, so they could stay up and sleep in later.

What? Percy pays attention to what she's saying sometimes.

"I hate Tony," Piper grumbled, practically falling asleep on Jason.

"You and us all, chica," Leo mumbled before letting out a huge yawn.

"What did he say was going on? Training?" Jason asked, looking over at Annabeth for answers because she seemed the most awake of the group.

"Yep. Training, whatever that entails. I don't know, so be prepared for anything. I really hope it has nothing to do with electronics, but knowing our luck, and how Tony has been so far, it will, so just try not to get too close," she answered.

Leo tiredly saluted her, "Yes, ma'm."

Hazel rolled her eyes, "Come on, Repair Boy."

She grabbed his arm and started leading the way towards the living room, which was their best guess at where the Avengers were.

As they were walking, they were interrupted by the disembodied voice of JARVIS, "Excuse me, but I was told to direct you to the training room, where the Avengers are currently assembled and waiting for you. Shall I proceed?"

All of the demigods were still really weirded-out by the AI, and there was no way it was ending soon. It's just a reminder that they were currently in a building basically composed entirely of technology, one of their greatest liabilities. Liabilities were a dangerous thing in their lives.

"Yes..." Percy answered hesitantly, unsure where to look.

"Then please follow the arrows projected on the ground, sir," JARVIS said.

Sure enough, there were large white arrows pointing them away from the living room, so they followed them. It was about a two minute walk to the elevators, where they were told to go to the 60th floor, which was apparently one whole training room by itself.

Ω ♆ Ω

"So let me get this straight, you guys want us to...play a video game?" Frank asked, gesturing to the giant room around them.

The Seven were quickly ushered by the Avengers into a big room with a bunch of white, padded tiles all around them as soon as they had reached the training floor. There was only a viewing window and an exit that disappeared when the door was closed. Then, Tony explained what they were going to be doing. None of them really understood it yet.

"No! I want you to fight the LMDs! The robots! They will simulate different levels of skill to evaluate your skills. Understand?" Tony punctuated each word, quickly losing any sense of patience he had started with.

"Yeah. We got it," Annabeth sighed.

Ok, she was sure she was the only one of them who realized that they were about to break one of the rules they established last night on the first day. They were about to fight robots. TECHNOLOGY.

This should go well, Annabeth thought.

Steve interrupted before Tony could make a snarky comment, "Good. We'll start with fighting separately and then together as a group. Afterwards, we'll see how you work with different weapons."

"Aye aye, Cap," Leo joked.

"Leo, focus. We're about to fight ROBOTS." Annabeth tried to get the son of Hephaestus to understand the severity of the situation. "You have a back-up plan, right?"

He could talk to machines. Robots were machines. Therefore, he should be able to get them out of this mess if anything went wrong.

He gave her a nod of understanding, and Annabeth settled back into her natural stance rather than her tense one. Well, she's always tensed for battle. At least in her natural one it's less obvious.

"Alright, who wants to go first?" Tony asked over the intercom.

"Uncle Leo will go first, right?" Percy joked, referencing to one of Leo's favorite nicknames for himself.

"Sure! I just need to know how much damage I'm allowed to do," Leo said, looking up at the Avengers.

Annabeth was shocked that he had even thought to ask that, and apparently the Avengers were, too.

"Um, just let go. There's nothing you can do to break this room. I designed it myself," Tony answered, still arrogant even through his confusion.

"Come on out, the rest of you," Natasha instructed.

Once the rest of the demigods had exited the room and stood next to the Avengers at the viewing window, Tony pressed a button on a screen that made a compartment in the walls of the room open up, revealing a row of floating LMDs.

"Now, I'm going to start you at Level 2, okay? It gets harder as you move up. The LMDs should stay the same form throughout every level, though. Ready?" Tony said.

Leo pulled his war hammer from his magical toolbelt and lit it and his arms on fire, "Ready."

Tony had to shake himself out of his shock before he pressed the start button, but when he did, every one of the mortal heroes had sat on the edge of their metaphorical seats, eager to see just how powerful these kids could be.

Plus, the kid had just pulled a giant war hammer from his normally-sized toolbelt, and then proceeded to light himself and the hammer on fire. They were bound to be curious after that display.

They knew the very basics of the young heroes' abilities, but most of that stuff was based on just what they had been told. Actual, visible proof is what they wanted.

All at once, the LMDs transformed into the Avengers minus the Hulk. Repeat, they changed into the Avengers. Leo had to fight a copy of the Avengers, alone.

Percy was freaking out inside. Sure, he trusted his friend, but Leo was a joker, and he tended to not understand how serious things were. In this case, he hoped that didn't happen.

"This should be interesting," Natasha remarked.

"No, this should be terrible. Tony, you never told me you were using this setting," Bruce said, rushing up to the other scientist, "He's just a kid."

"I think they've made it clear they aren't just kids, Jolly Green. It's fine. If they wanted to be treated like the rest of us, then they need to pass this test," Tony said.

Bruce looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but Jason stepped up to stop him, "He'll be fine, Dr. Banner. Leo may not look it, but he's powerful and he's smart. He can handle this."

Jason looked so sure of himself that it was enough to convince the doctor that it would be okay.

In truth, Jason had no idea how this program worked. There was a good chance that Leo did not, in fact, have this handled.

While this was being discussed, Leo had already started to fight the Iron Man LMD. He was currently alternating between swinging his hammer at it and firing balls of fire. The LMD had only been hit a couple of times because it kept maneuvering around the attacks by flying away.

It was getting tiresome, and Leo wanted it to be over with. So, he dropped his hammer and set a determined look on his face, glaring up at the robot.

The Seven were grinning, already figuring out what was happening, while the Avengers were just plain confused. What was the kid gonna do? Glare them to death?

Then, Leo started grinning and they knew it was all over.

He crouched down onto the ground and placed a hand on the floor, closing his eyes in concentration. The LMDs seemed to be as confused as their originals.

Three seconds passed before Leo's grin grew even more, and then he spoke a single word, "Stop."

And they did. Every single LMD lost their form and fell to the ground, limp and unmoving. Leo stood up, dusted his pants off, and turned to the viewing window to see his teammate's reactions.

They were priceless.

"That's how you do it," he said, "Am I done?"

Tony literally shook himself out of his stupor, "Yeah, sure. I need to reboot the LMDs."

When Leo came through the door, the rest of the demigods crowded him, patting him on the back and laughing at his dramatics.

"What was that?" Natasha demanded, breaking through the teens to tower over Leo's elf-like form.

Okay, maybe tower isn't the right word. She was taller than him, but not by much. Natasha was just very intimidating.

"Uh...fighting?" Leo tried.

Natasha's glare hardened, "You know that's not what I mean. What did you do to make the LMDs stop attacking?"

Leo glanced at Annabeth, who nodded in consent, "I talked to them."

"You did what?!" Tony exclaimed.

"I talked to them. They were pretty boring, to be honest, but I was able to shut them down," he answered.

Tony let out an incredulous laugh, "That's not possible! You can't just TALK to machines!"

"He can, and he did," Piper said, smiling proudly at her best friend.

"But–" Tony's voice died out.

"How come you never told us of this ability?" Natasha asked.

"You never asked," Percy answered simply, not liking her interrogatory tone at all.

The spy looked like she wanted to continue the conversation, but Clint whispered something in her ear and she stepped back with one last glare.

"Welp! That was fun! Who's next?" Tony clapped his hands.

Everyone turned to see that he had gotten the LMDs back online and back in the Avengers' form.

Piper sighed and started to walk to the door, "I guess I'll go next."

Before she could enter, Steve asked, "What weapon are you going to use? Your powers won't work on the robots."

Piper smirked at him over her shoulder before pulling Katoptris from its sheath on her thigh. Apparently, the Avengers had yet to fully break through the Mist, and they could not see her having that strapped there this entire time. But when she pulled it out, they seemed to finally be able to see it for what it truly was. It makes you wonder what they thought was there before. A ruler, maybe?

"I've got this," she stated before slipping into the training room.

Ω ♆ Ω

It was obvious Piper had been taking more lessons on dagger-fighting with Annabeth. As soon as the first person attacked, she was slashing and stabbing like crazy. Her lithe form was swisting out of the way of punches from Steve's copy, while Clint's arrows were shooting at her from behind.

Tony had clearly upped the level of difficulty after seeing what Leo could do.

Piper ducked under one of the arrows, and then shot back up to land a finishing blow to the center of LMD-Steve's chest. Then, she ripped Katoptris out of the robot and turned to throw it at Clint's copy, which just barely managed to avoid getting stabbed.

She was running on pure adrenaline now. It was best to imagine these opponents as monsters. Sure, when they actually fought humans, they would need to not kill, but these were just robots.

Cilnt's robot shot it's last arrow, and it exploded right before her face, stunning her into stillness. In that couple of seconds it took for her to recenter herself, Natasha's copy jumped onto her back for a chokehold. Piper struggled, but the LMD had been designed to know all of Natasha's known skills, and it was working. The Iron Man LMD landed and shot a stunning shot at her chest: the final straw for Piper to finally surrender.

She knew they wouldn't kill her, but she was not in the mood to be knocked-out. It left you with a massive headache.

So she tapped out.

"Ok ok, I'm done. I'm done," She panted as she was released, rubbing her neck.

Piper was not happy about having to surrender, but it seemed like the Avengers had been thoroughly impressed with her skill with such a small weapon.

"I'll do next," Annabeth declared, high-fiving Piper on her way out.

"Good luck," Piper said.

"Don't need it," Annabeth responded, pulling out her drakon-bone sword.

Out in the control room, Tony said, "Is that a bone?!"

"It's whatever you want it to be," Hazel grinned, manipulating the Mist just a bit.

"You scare me sometimes, Miss Metal Detector," Leo muttered, glancing at Annabeth's sword, which had shifted into a machete.

He wasn't sure whether to be impressed by Hazel's skill, or weirded-out by Tony's brain.

"Make sure to move to difficulty up a bit," Percy told Tony, "She'll be insulted otherwise."

The billionaire seemed to be getting used to the teens' weird ways because he didn't even flinch when he heard that, and instead moved to comply.

"And...here we go," Tony said over the intercom, "Good luck, Annie."

"My name is Annabeth!" she shouted before going into the fight.

In this level, every single one of them attacked at once. Annabeth back-bended under Steve's copy's punch, and then kicked up into LMD-Natasha's face. After, she turned and sliced the Iron Man armor on the side, just under the armpit. She had picked that as a point of weakness before she had even stepped into the building.

"She's good," Natasha relented, watching as the daughter of Athena thrusted her sword into Steve's robot foot.

Seeing that Clint's LMD copy was not going to get any closer to her, Annabeth pulled out a hidden dagger and threw it in a perfect line to hit it in the center of its forehead. Then, she turned and blocked a punch from Natasha's robot, who had recovered from the face-hit. The spy copy used the Iron Man LMD to jump up and wrap her legs around Annabeth's neck, trying to do a scissor hold, which failed because Annabeth rolled forward, slamming Natasha's head into the ground. The left a big enough dent that the LMD wasn't getting back up.

That only left Iron Man to deal with.

She settled into a fighting stance, but didn't attack, choosing to wait for her opponent to make the first blow.

Percy was grinning. This was what they needed: a good way to blow off steam without it possibly ending with one of them dead.

"What is she waiting for?" Steve asked.

"She's playing with it. It's fun for her," Jason answered, "It's Annabeth."

Finally, the robot got impatient and attacked. It sent a stun blast at her, which Annabeth quickly avoided. After, she ran up to the wall, kicked off of it, and jumped up to drag the Iron Man LMD down to the ground, where she sat down on it and landed a few punches. But she quickly realized punching wasn't doing much good.

"Judo flip! Do the judo flip!" Leo exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

When it wasn't him being the one attacked by Annabeth, it was super entertaining.

Annabeth sighed, but a smile was pulling at the edges of her lips. She hauled Iron Man up, who was still recovering from being slammed down to the ground, and got a good hold on it's arm. Then, she flipped it over her shoulder with an ease that only came from years of experience.

With a huge smile on her lips, and a last glance at her carnage, Annabeth walked back out to the control room.

"How was that for a kid?" She asked Natasha.

"Not bad," she got for an answer.

Ω ♆ Ω

Jason, Hazel, and Frank's individual tests went-by pretty quickly. Jason electrocuted all of the robots, rendering them immobile.

After that, and with another new batch of LMDs, Hazel used her Spatha to slice and cut through the robots. In the end, it proved too hard for her to do it with just a sword, so she pulled a chunk of the wall out and smashed it against the LMDs until they were in many different pieces.

Frank ended up having to forfeit, but not before getting every single Avengers copy but Steve down. Steve ended up having him in a chokehold that was just too difficult to get out of. And Frank had already transformed into many animals, so he wasn't sure if he could've changed back if he had transformed again.

If it wasn't obvious, Percy was avoiding doing his turn. He was trying to stay in the corner, and out of the notice of any of the adults. However, that wasn't possible with two spies in the room. They notice everything.

"Percy? Your turn," Natasha said.

So much for that plan.

Percy hesitated, "Um...about that, I don't think I should go."

Natasha raised her eyebrows in mock-surprise, but it was actually Steve who spoke, "You have to go, son. In order to work well together, we need to know each other's strengths and weaknesses. This will never work without you doing this."

"Plus, we promise it's completely safe," Bruce added in.

Percy sighed, admitting that he wasn't going to be able to worm his way out of this one. Instead of fighting, he turned to whisper to Annabeth, "Don't let me get out of control."

Annabeth gave him a sad look, "Percy, I know you have control. I trust you. You just need to trust yourself. You would never hurt us. I know that for certain."

The Avengers were watching this interaction like hawks, but the other demigods were averting their attention. This happened sometimes, Percy and Annabeth going into their own world that only they could understand, and it was best to just let them be. Plus, privacy is a real thing people. The moment seemed almost too intimate for them to interrupt.

Percy still seemed to be having trouble believing Annabeth's statements, but he went into the training room without another protest. His shoulders were sagging in defeat, and he seemed to be folding in on himself. He was never one for attention, but that was a bit much in Leo's mind.

However, Leo and the rest of the Seven didn't have a full grasp on just how uncomfortable Percy as with using his powers now. They didn't know what happened in "that place."

"Are you ready, Percy?" Tony asked, readying the LMDs again.

"Yeah, I guess," Percy answered.

Annabeth was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "Just breathe, Perce," she whispered under her breath, "You can do this."

She had to put on a brave face for her boyfriend, but she truly was terrified of Percy's potential. She had seen it first-hand in their trip underground, and it was nothing to be underestimated. The Avengers didn't know what powers they were playing with here. She only hoped that her insistent trust she was putting in Percy was going to amount to truth.

"We'll start you on Level 5? Based on what your friends can do, I think this will be a good start," Steve asked.

"Sure," Percy responded, bringing Riptide from his pocket.

"What's he going to do with a pen?" Bruce whispered to Clint.

The Seven all smiled at each other. Little did the mortals know, that pen was definitely not just a pen. It was always amusing when people saw what Riptide truly was for the first time.

"Alright. Here we go," Tony said, starting the simulation.

Percy closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and popped the cap off of his pen. Opening his eyes, you could tell something had shifted in him. He was in his natural element now, and nobody could stop him from achieving his goal.

That goal just so happened to be mutilating some billionaire's robots.

"Let's have some fun," Percy said, charging the first LMD.

He was a flurry of motion. His fighting style was a mix from Greek, Roman, and modern martial arts that he had learned from Annabeth. He'd kick one adversary just to turn and thrust his sword into another one trying to attack him from behind.

"He's amazing," Bruce said in wonder, mesmerized by Percy's skill.

The son of Poseidon was relying only on his hand-to-hand and swordsmanship skills, rather than his powers, but that barely slowed him down. If the mortals wanted a display of his competence, then he would give them one.

Annabeth had a proud smile on her face as she watched Percy judo flip Natasha's robot over his shoulder and slammed it hard enough to the ground that it "died," ending his fight.

That had gone well, considering Percy's worries.

However, he knew better than to let his guard down just yet. As all demigods know, life never gives any breaks. That, and the Fates are cruel.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Ok, guys. Let's take a lunch break, and then we'll do some more training, but this time, with only abilities," Steve said.

Percy had put his sword away, and was not standing in the viewing room with the rest of the heroes, mortal and demigod alike. All of the teens looked and felt exhausted, so it was a given to take a break.

"Got it, boss," Leo saluted, turning and exiting the room, heading no doubt in the direction of the kitchen.

"I guess that means we're leaving," Percy laughed. A real, genuine laugh.

It made Annabeth smile larger than she had in a long time. Improvement is always good.

Soon, everyone was gathered around the kitchen and living room area. Percy and Leo were scavenging for food while the Avengers and the rest of the Seven talked. So far, the hunt was not going as planned.

"Tony! Are you seriously telling me you're a billionaire, and you can't afford some decent Cheerios?!" Percy yelled.

"Yeah! Who goes grocery shopping around here?" Leo exclaimed, holding up the near-empty jug of milk.

The Avengers all looked at each other in confusion, "Who DOES go grocery shopping?" Bruce asked.

"Pepper, sometimes, I think. She must've been busy this week," Tony answered, "We can just order some Chinese or something for now."

"That should work, but if you're going to house these boys," Annabeth pointed to Percy, Leo, Jason, and Frank, "You're going to need a lot more food around at all times. Their appetites could rival that of an elephant."

Hazel let out a tiny laugh, realizing Annabeth's little pun about Frank. She received a small smirk in response.

"Teenagers," Tony muttered, rolling his eyes, "Always hungry."

"Now wait a second, Tony, I remember seeing you eat an entire large pizza by yourself just a couple weeks ago," Natasha remarked, smirking at her teammate.

Tony only glared in response, and then he told JARVIS to order lunch.

"Well, while we're waiting, I'll explain what our next exercise is," Steve said, "Basically, we're going to see and document your powers, but in a more controlled environment. You won't be fighting anything, but this will be more focused on precision than quantity. We need to know your full capabilities so that we know where to put you in a fight. Is that okay?"

He was asking their permission as more of a courtesy than an actual question, obviously, but the demigods still nodded their heads in confirmation. It wasn't like they couldn't leave at any time if things ever got too out-of-control.

Or at least, that's what they told themselves. In all honesty, nobody trusted each other yet. They could be shot down by the Avengers if they tried to run away, for all they knew, and that's what the scariest thing was. Neither group really KNEW the other group's intentions, only what they had told each other.

Everyone was walking on thin ice, whether it was known to them or not.

Ω ♆ Ω

I hope you liked it! Remember, this is also on FF, Ao3, Inkitt, Webnovel, and Wattpad.

other chapters :)

[the-omni-princess]

Burnt (Firefighter!AU)

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Another late night at the fire house is interrupted when dispatch calls out a very familiar address.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.3K

Prompt: Firefighter Au!

Warnings: Established Relationship, angst, fluff, gambling (kinda), brief mention of death and its implications, fire injuries (not burns, but smoke inhalation), loss of property because of a fire

A/N:

Written for @sunmoonandbucky

and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D 

love ya babe <3

Also, while I looked up codes and such, I am probably really wrong at some of these, so if you happen to know the Brooklyn FDNY codes/dispatch please let me know so I can fix it :D

-

[My Masterlist]

---

It was late, however, the bright lights of the firehouse kept Bucky wide awake. He took another glance at the clock on the wall, but only a minute had passed since the last time he looked. Time seemed to move as slowly as possible.

“I know your shifts almost over, but if you paid attention, you might actually win the game,” Sam taunted him, letting his cards fall in front of him, an 8,7,6,5, and 4, a Straight.

Bucky, being the only other one left in the game, smirked faintly, “Keep dreaming, Sam,” he placed his own cards down. Every single one had a red diamond that seemed to stare straight into Sam’s soul. A Flush. He reached forward, grabbing his prize, the best snacks of the week from each of the crew, from the middle of the table.

Sam groaned loudly just as Steve laughed. “Better luck next time, Sam,” he teased, earning him a glare from the man. He turned towards Buck just as he pulled open the gummy snacks, determined to keep his mind off the counting clock. “Don’t worry Buck, in two hours you’ll be clocked out and passed out beside your gal,” he nudged him with his shoulder.

“Snuggled up with the millions of blankets she owns,” Natasha joined in, already having folded out of the game before she could lose more precious pretzels.

“Are really suggesting that Barnes is immediately going to sleep when he sees his girl? Because I’d like to bet an alternative-“ Nat tossed a pretzel at Tony to shut him up, rolling her eyes as he yelped when it hit him square in the head.

“I’m exhausted, I will be happily passed out and snuggled against my gal,” Bucky gave Tony a pointed look, before sighing. He looked towards his phone, knowing you were probably asleep so late at night. He couldn’t help but hope you had texted him, despite having exchanged good night texts two hours ago.

He glanced towards the sofas, Clint had the tv on, captions on, volume low so the rest of them could hear the dispatch radio placed on the counter. The news jumped back and forth between stories, a robbery, a missing person, a cat stuck up a tree from yesterday. Most of the footage was old, making Bucky lose interest.

Just as he was about to turn back to a new game, Natasha already shuffling the cards behind him, the bright red headline of BREAKING NEWS caught his attention. A fire right up the street from one of the other stations. The frequency had already called out one of the other stations to a nearby fire, but it wasn’t bad enough for this part of Brooklyn FD to be called out. Looked pretty bad now though, the apartment building was on frame at a weird angle, and it was grainy footage from a cell phone, but the entire right side was streaked with red and orange flames.

“Dispatch hasn’t called it yet, but I have a feeling we’re gonna be called in for this one, up and at ‘em,” Bucky called, the others glancing at the tv before agreeing and standing, starting to get ready for the inevitable call.

Not two minutes later, as Bucky tugged the suspenders from his uniform on correctly, the call was ringing out across the station. “Dispatch to Brooklyn, 10-26, 10-23. 10-85 Brooklyn.” Occupied high-rise, three-alarm fire, Need for additional units.

Steve jumped to answer, calling out “10-04, 10-07?” Acknowledged, Verify address?

Bucky had already jumped into the truck, pressing the lights button on as Sam jumped in as well, Nat and Tony grabbing the other truck, turning on their lights as well. Dispatch gave out the address and everyone in both trucks tensed. Bucky went pale. Oh God, this can’t be happening.

“On our way,” Steve quickly closed the door and turned the sirens on, out on the road and dashing towards the address, not needing the GPS. Bucky was silent, fear and panic filling his eyes as he gripped onto the seat of the truck with one hand, and his helmet with the other. New York, the city that never sleeps, was determined not to let him get to his destination. Red lights meant slowing down to make sure opposing traffic knew they were coming, and every damn light was red.

Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, hoping to calm him. “Maybe it-“

“Save it Sammie,” Bucky warned, eyes straight ahead as he tried not to over think. “Step on it, Rogers. Now.”

“Trying,” Steve muttered in response, only a block away and closing in. Steve had barley put the truck to park when Bucky pushed Sam out the truck, jumping out after him and ignoring his frustrated cry.

He looked around frantically, hoping the other units grabbed everyone already. Your neighbor and best friend Wanda recognized him instantly, already brushing off the police officer trying to ask her questions. She looked an utter mess, wrinkled, grime covered pajamas, her twin standing a few feet away getting oxygen from one of the EMTs, soot in his white hair. “Bucky! Thank God you’re here! She’s still inside, they said the fire started in her apartment.” She was frenzied, shaking as she tried to tell him. He nodded in acknowledgment, words lacking at the moment. He turned to the building, able to see it now. The flames were centered right by your fifth-floor apartment window. He felt his heart tighten as he tugged on his helmet, already rushing to join Steve and the others in running inside.

--

Coughing again and again, covered in soot, huddled in the bathroom, gripping onto Alpine. The poor white cat looked like a different bred all covered in soot. She purred in your arms, trying to comfort you as you stayed curled into a ball at the very corner of your bathtub. Trapped by the fire while in your pajamas, and there were no windows but a small slit in the wall. Alpine could probably barley squeeze through that and escape, but the lock had rusted months ago and wouldn’t open.

Now, nose buried under a soot covered pajama shirt to not inhale the smoke, Alpine under the same shirt to prevent as much smoke inhalation as possible, you couldn’t help but notice the true irony of your situation. The fireman’s girlfriend and rescue cat, dying in a fire. You felt like you were living in an irony.

Why did you decide to not move out sooner? Why did you happen to stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night? Why didn’t you insist to the landlord that your faulty electrical lines in your bedroom should most definitely be replaced now instead of later? Was this really the way you were going to die? The fight had already left you once the fire had spread to right outside your bathroom door. Truly and utterly trapped. No windows, no doors, no way out. Since the fire was electrical, they had already shut the power off to the building. The only light was the fire being barley contained on the other side of the bathroom door. The heat radiating in the room from the mixture of the fire and the AC being off, and well, being on fire, was starting to make you woozy.

Coughing once more, you couldn’t hear the front door to your apartment being kicked down. God, you hoped Bucky wouldn’t blame himself. He always tended to do that anyway, and if you were going to die with any regrets, it would be how you died. That would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The door to the bathroom was suddenly axed down, making you jump faintly, gripping Alpine even tighter. Your eyes lit up at the sight of two soot covered, full uniform wearing firefighters standing at the door. One was already reaching towards you, the second was subduing the fire away from the door.

The one above you wrapped you in a fireproof blanket, helping you to your feet to escape. You stumbled, still holding onto Alpine for dear life; not that the cat minded snuggling into your chest, smelling your perfume instead of the smoke. The firefighter quickly caught you and didn’t waste a second in picking you up and making their way out the door. Everything was getting hazy, and you glancing around, it didn’t really set in that this was your apartment in flames. That was your favorite chair and curtains being burnt to a crisp. And Bucky’s favorite blanket on top of the chair, mostly ash in a neat little pile. You buried your face into the soot covered jacket of the person holding you, trying not to inhale to much smoke and to save yourself from seeing the destruction of your home.

The first thing to hit you when you were outside was how cool it suddenly was. The second was the oxygen. As you took a ragged breath, the cool air burned in your throat. The firefighter holding onto you rushed towards an EMT, but you caught a glance behind you. With everyone evacuated, they were starting to gain control of the blaze. As the firefighter holding you sat you on the edge of the ambulance’s open tail gate, you noticed the Brooklyn Fire Truck. The very one you had painted Brooklyn on in baby blue just last summer. One of the firefighters pulled off his helmet and mask, and you instantly recognized Sam. God that means Bucky’s here.

You coughed roughly, not fighting the paramedic who took Alpine to give her some oxygen, while another paramedic placed an oxygen mask over your face. You groaned lowly, the voice stuck in your throat felt like tar. You looked towards your savior, the firefighter. Considering how close you were to the FDNY, having gone to plenty of their cookouts and bowling nights, you most likely knew the person who saved you. Yet, you only cared to find him.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the mask off just long enough to gargle out a “B-Bucky-…” while trying to get Sam’s attention. You needed to find him. He was a self-sacrificing idiot at times, just like his best friend, and would probably go back into the fire to make sure every single person and animal and even the hamster upstairs was safely rescued. The firefighter beside you quickly put the mask back over your nose and mouth, and despite the helmet and mask covering their face, you could practically hear the silent ‘Why would you do that?!’ from their body language.

You pulled the fire blanket closer to your shoulders, shuddering before realizing which blanket it was. It was the blanket you had gotten Bucky as a joke last Christmas, the one that was folded neatly on your couch when you went to bed. If the fire fighter knew what it was then that would mean-

Your eyes widened as you looked up towards your savior, who was pulling off his helmet and mask. You couldn’t stop the smile from your face as you took in his worried expression and your favorite ocean eyes. “Bucky,” you murmured.

Despite being muffled behind the mask, he heard you, and didn’t stop the relieved expression from overtaking his features. He threw the gloves off, placing them and the helmet beside you before cupping your face in his hands. “You had me worried sick, sugar. When the address came in, and then when Wan said you were still upstairs…. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.” He stepped in between your legs, careful to make sure you were still getting oxygen but were now safely tucked into his arms. You stayed quiet, nuzzling closer to him, with Alpine, who was perfectly fine just a little dirty, curled on your lap.

It stayed like that for a few moments, the red lights from the now quiet sirens lighting up his features, the oxygen starting to calm you; his arms wrapped around you, filling you with warmth. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered into your ash covered hair, too grateful that you survived that close call then to worry about the new dirt on his face.

You took another breath, feeling good enough to actually speak again, you pulled the mask off again, “You know,” you rasped, “When I agreed to move in with you, I didn’t mean this soon.”

He chuckled faintly, holding you closer as you took more breaths from the oxygen. “Good thing most of your stuff is at my place now,” he took a glance towards your apartment, most likely a bad – if not total – loss.

“And thank god for insurance,” you muttered into the mask. He chuckled again, kissing your head and running a hand through Alpine’s fur. The cat purred, happily rubbing against the two of you. “I love you, honey,” he whispered softly, reverent, as if the entire weight of tonight’s events had finally settled on him.

“I love you more, Bucky Barnes,” you teased, grinning into the mask. And in the light of the emergency vehicles, your pajamas covered in dirt and soot and ash, he couldn’t help but think you were absolutely perfect. As you buried your face in his chest, ignoring the chaffing from his uniform, ready to fall asleep again, he couldn’t help but smile. And he couldn’t help but be grateful that the ring he was going to propose with, was locked in a fireproof safe hidden at the back of his closet.

---

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx​ / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @thelibraryoffanfiction / @sunkissedbarnes​ / @annavega333

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 3

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff), major character death

A/N: and here we go! The LAST chapter of Season 3! I swear this flew by super quick... I gotta admit, I’m nervous about Season 4 haha please let me know what you think of this! Something happens here that I know  A LOT of you are looking forward to so let’s go~!

Chapter 10

Rick, Daryl, and Hershel had come back from meeting with the Governor. Unfortunately but predictably, Rick told everyone that there was no negotiation and that the war would be fought. With this information, the group started to prepare for the battle; hiding guns and bullets in places only they know about, creating barricades and shields for each other to hide behind. The atmosphere of the entire prison is tense and fearful as the burden of war is upon them. 

“Hey, has anyone seen Merle?” Daryl calls out to anyone who can answer him.

“Isn’t he in his own cell block?” Gloria says as she sits on one of the tables loading a gun. 

Daryl shakes his head, “Nah, jus’ came from there, he ain’ there.”

Rick looks around the main area outside the cell block and frowns, “does anyone know where Michonne is?” his frown deepens when he sees everyone shaking their heads then shoots Daryl a knowing look. 

As if keeping something from the group, Rick and Daryl rush off to try to find Michonne and Merle. Gloria looks over at Glenn with a raised brow to which Glenn shrugs and continues on loading the weapons. When the weapons were all loaded, Gloria, Glenn, and Maggie took the guns and boxes of bullets to hide in certain areas in case the prison got ambushed and they were trapped inside. After hiding their artillery, they went back to the main area with Hershel and Rick had just come back but Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Rick had a rather distressed look on his face as he looks around at everyone in the room.

“Everybody... I have something to tell you.” Rick starts, he waits for the others to gather around him before continuing, “when I went to meet with the Governor, I came back and told you all that there was no negotiation. But that was a lie. The Governor was willing to negotiate but what he offered was something I knew none of you would accept.”

“What was it?” Glenn asks, crossing his arms.

“He wanted Michonne. He said that if we gave him Michonne he would leave the prison alone.” Rick informs everyone.

“But you don’t buy it.” Gloria finishes for him. 

Rick nods and sighs, “I thought about it and I thought about it... I told Daryl and we both told Merle...” 

“That’s why you were so worried about both Merle and Michonne going missing.” Maggie voices what everyone is thinking, to which Rick nods.

“I should have told you all before. I should have discussed it with you all as a group. What I said before about us not being a democracy, I realize that that was wrong. That isn’t how things should be, not anymore. And I’m sorry for that.” Rick says, pursing his lips as he looks at the group, relief washing over him as they all smile at him approvingly, Hershel nodding. 

“You think Merle took matters into his own hands and took Michonne to the Governor?” Glenn says standing up from the table.

Rick runs his hand through his hair, “that’s the thing, when me and Daryl told him, we basically asked him to do it... I wanted to find him to tell him that the deal is off.” 

“Well, let’s go look for him then, they couldn’t have gotten far, right?” Gloria says, also standing up from the table.

“Daryl already left to find Merle. If anyone can track his brother, it’s him.” Rick informs.

The group nods at this. It was a fact, Daryl is the group’s best tracker and if he wasn’t able to find the two then there was no chance of anyone else finding them. They all decided to wait it out, hoping that all three of them would make it back in one piece. It was rather worrying though when Michonne was the only one who made it back to the prison.

“Glad to see you’re back safe,” Gloria says as she opens the gate for her, “where are the other two?”

“Merle let me go and Daryl went to look for him.” Michonne tells her as she walks into the gates.

“Wait, what? Merle let you go?” Gloria asks, wanting confirmation.

Michonne nods and sighs, “he left me behind to go fight the Governor on his own.” 

Gloria nods, accepting her answer as Michonne continues to walk towards the prison but then she calls out to her, “hey, Rick didn’t want to go with the deal, he changed his mind in the end, hope you know that.”

Michonne glances back behind her shoulder and nods, “I know,” she then continues walking back.

Gloria sighs, hoping that Michonne wouldn’t hold anything against Rick for agreeing to the trade at first. She leans against the fence, waiting for the Dixon brothers to come back. After what seemed like hours of waiting, Daryl had finally come back to the prison but he was alone. Gloria pushes open the gate for him but he doesn’t look at her as he walks in. Noting that he was alone, Gloria figured that Merle hadn’t made it back, especially judging by Daryl’s mournful expression. She watches him as he walks back to the prison building before locking up the front gate. 

By nightfall, Gloria walks back to the prison building. She stayed at the gate in hopes that maybe, just maybe Merle was alive and wanted to stay outside the prison walls a bit longer. As she walks closer to the building, she sees Daryl sitting alone on the picnic table having a smoke. Gloria hesitates but comes to the decision to go and sit with him, keep him company after what happened that day. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” Gloria says after a while of sitting with Daryl in silence and Daryl grunts in response, she sighs, “I’m sorry for what happened to Merle. No matter how much of an ass he was, I never wanted this to happen.”

“Didn’t ya hate him?” Daryl says, his voice soft and tired, he’d been crying.

“I didn’t like him, that’s for sure, but no matter how much I disliked him I’d never wish death upon him.” she takes a breath, “I can never imagine how it would be to lose Glenn, and I wouldn’t ever want you to go through such a thing.” 

Daryl nods, not saying anything else as he takes another puff from his cigarette. Gloria watches him as Merle’s words and actions from the last few days replay in her mind. Merle trusted her to look after Daryl, and everything he did was to protect his little brother. Even with risking his life to take on the Governor alone, that wasn’t for anyone else but Daryl. As much of an ass Merle was, he only cared about one person. 

“Daryl...” Gloria slowly reaches out to hold his hand that’s resting on his knee, “everything Merle did, he did it for you, you know that right? He only cared about you.” 

She feels Daryl tense up at her words. He’d been trying to hold in his emotions, he was supposed to be strong, he couldn’t cry. Even if it were for the death of his only family left, he couldn’t, but Gloria’s words pushed him over the edge. Of course he knew that Merle cared about him, he loved him and showed it in his own twisted way. He’d been trying to deny it all so he wouldn’t have to face his feelings. 

“Hey,” Gloria calls softly, “come here.” 

She takes her hand off his and wraps her arms around Daryl, urging him to come closer to her. Daryl cracks out a sob as he leans into her, falling into her embrace as he cries. Gloria lets him cry, stroking his hair, letting him know that it’s okay for him to cry to her like this. 

“We’re going to win this war,” Gloria says softly, “we’re going to kill the Governor. Merle gave his life for us, and winning the war is how we can honor his death. We can’t let Merle die in vain.”

Daryl nods but doesn’t move from Gloria’s embrace, he sniffles before muttering, “I’m gonna kill him.”

---

The next day, Rick had devised a plan for the fight. He believed that after Merle had taken down many of the Governor’s men, he would be furious, wanting to invade the prison the next day. Rick’s prediction had come true as the Governor and his army rolled into the premises of the prison, fully loaded and trampling down the fences. Luckily, Hershel and the younger members of the group hadn’t been discovered as they were hidden in the woods outside the prison. Carol and Gloria were in the control room waiting for any sounds of the intruders, Carol armed with an assault rifle and Gloria holding a smoke grenade in her hand. Faint footsteps could be heard coming down the dark hallway and Gloria looks over at Carol as she nods.

“Three... two...” Gloria whispers, “one.”

She throws the grenade into the hallway after pulling out the pin and quickly makes her way to the prison alarm controls. Carol starts to shoot down the hallway as the smoke fills the space and Gloria pulls down the levers, triggering the alarms. Panicked shouts and gunshots can be heard in the hallway as the alarm blares through the prison. 

“Retreat!” a voice within the hallway commands.

The Governor and his army rush out of the prison, trying to make their way out to their vehicles in an attempt to escape. Maggie and Glenn are both on the watch platforms armed in riot gear and assault rifles, shooting at the intruders as they run out from the building. 

“Get the hell out of here!” Glenn shouts as he shoots.

Maggie and Glenn have successfully run the Governor and his army out of the prison. They look at each other, grinning, knowing they’ve won this battle. They meet up with Rick and Daryl, who were on the other side of the prison block shooting within the building, and Carol and Gloria. 

“We should take it back to Woodbury, finish ‘em off once and for all.” Daryl suggests, looking at the others.

Rick nods, “Yeah, we should. Let’s check on the others first, make sure they’re okay, then we can go.”

“We’ll stay here, just in case they decide to come back.” Glenn tells Rick who nods in approval.

Hershel, Beth, Carl, and the baby, Judith, had made their way back into the main area outside their cell block. Rick had come in to make sure that they were unharmed, then gone off with Daryl and Michonne to finish off the Governor. Gloria goes inside with Carol, leaving Glenn and Maggie on watch. 

“Hershel,” she calls out to the vet as she walks up to him holding a map, “can you show me where Rick met up with the Governor?”

Hershel takes the map and eyes Gloria cautiously, “what’s this about now, young lady?”

“There’s something I have to do, it’s not anything stupid, I promise.” Gloria says, urging him with the map, “please?”

Hershel sighs at her persistence then shows her the meeting place on the map, “before you go anywhere, I really hope you tell Glenn what you’re planning to do. I’m not going to pry but Glenn has a right to know.”

Gloria nods and smiles at him, “I will, don’t worry. And thanks.”

Hershel smiles back and nods. Taking the map, Gloria goes back outside and sees Glenn standing near the gates on lookout. 

“Glenn, I’m taking a truck!” Gloria shouts to him as she runs towards the vehicles.

“What?!” Glenn frowns as he chases her and grabs her arm before she can climb into any vehicle, “where do you think you’re going? The Governor is still out there with his army, you aren’t going out there!”

“I gotta find Merle’s body and bring it back here.” Gloria tells him, “it’s the least we can do for Daryl after everything.”

Glenn’s expression softens as he listens to Gloria, “let me come with you then.”

“No, you promised Rick you’d stay here and watch over everything with Maggie. I’ll be fine, Hershel already told me where they had the meetup.” Gloria pats Glenn’s arm reassuringly.

Glenn ponders a bit, then hesitantly nods, “take the blue truck, it’ll be easier to load the body.” 

Gloria smiles then goes over to said blue truck and climbs inside. She starts the truck as Glenn goes over to the gates to open it for her to drive through. Glenn shouts for her to stay safe and Gloria sticks her arm out the driver window to wave in acknowledgement. Following the map, Gloria soon finds her way to the meeting area; Rick had mentioned before that the trade off would be at the same place of the meeting. She slows down the truck as she sees a litter of corpses all over the ground. Turning off the truck engine, she jumps out of the vehicle and looks around for Merle’s corpse. 

“There you are...” Gloria sighs as she finds his body.

Although his face was mangled, he still had that unmistakable metal stump replacing his right hand. Gloria goes to his body and grunts as she picks him up, dragging him to the truck. She pushes his body onto the back of the truck and closes the tail panel so that he doesn’t fall out. She goes back to the drivers side and climbs in, starting the truck and drives back to the prison. When she gets back, she sees that Daryl’s bike isn’t there, telling her that the others aren’t back yet from trying to find the Governor. 

Gloria proceeds to drive into the courtyard towards their graveyard. She parks the truck and climbs out, then goes to get the shovel the group kept in the back of the truck. She starts to dig a hole for Merle. 

“Hope you don’t mind resting beside him, T’,” Gloria remarks as she digs beside T-Dog’s grave.

As she digs, the revving of a motorcycle can be heard in the distance. Gloria didn’t even need to turn around to know that Daryl, Rick, and Michonne had come back to the prison. She wasn’t in a rush to go back to them though, she knew that they would update her on whatever happened when she went back inside. However, she did find it odd that she saw Rick driving an old bus into the prison though when she glanced back. Dedicated to finishing her task, Gloria continues on digging and when she was done with the hole, she goes over to the truck where she hears footsteps approaching from behind her.

“Hey!” a familiar rough voice calls out, “What’re ya doin’?”

Gloria turns to face Daryl who had a look of confusion written on his face. It was no wonder why he was confused though, no one on their side had died from the battle so who could she be digging a grave for. She answers the silent question by stepping to the side and letting Daryl see the contents of the truck. Daryl’s look of confusion is now replaced with one of shock and sadness as he sees his brother’s corpse in the back of the truck.

“I thought that Merle deserves a grave at least, he’s been one of us since the quarry. I couldn’t just leave him out there to rot.” Gloria says looking down, not entirely sure how Daryl would react.

She was worried that he would be mad at her for going out just to bring his body back. Gloria knew that seeing his body would bring back memories and even trigger some emotions that Daryl had been trying to suppress. When Daryl nodded in agreement to her words, she let out a breath of relief that she didn’t even know she was holding. 

“Help me carry him? He’s heavy as hell.” Gloria asks with a slight chuckle in her tone. 

Daryl smiles softly at that and nods again, making his way over to the truck. The two pick up Merle’s body and carry him to the newly dug grave. They carefully lower his body into the grave and Gloria picks up the shovel again.

“Ya’ve done enough for me.” Daryl says, taking the shovel away from her and starts shovelling dirt into the grave.

Deciding not to argue with the man, Gloria retrieves two flat pieces of wood from the ground and carves the initials M. D. into one of them with one of her daggers. She then wraps a rope around the wood pieces to create a cross.

“So, what’s with the bus?” Gloria asks as she finishes up the cross. 

“We brought back people from Woodbury, old folks, kids, they had nowhere else to go. Damn Governor abandoned the place.” Daryl explains as he continues shovelling.

“I take it you guys brought Andrea back?” she guesses, her and Andrea never really got along, but leaving her behind just because she didn’t like her was not an option.

Daryl shakes his head, “nah... she’s gone.”

“I’m... sorry...” she didn’t know what else to say to that, “did... you guys find the Governor at least?”

He sighs at her question and shakes his head, “nah, found their cars and a bunch o’ dead bodies, but no asshole with an eyepatch.”

Gloria sighs at that then plants the cross at the head of Merle’s grave once Daryl had finished filling up the hole with dirt. He leans on the shovel and looks down at the grave, a soft smile tugging on his lips. A moment of silence lingers between the two when Daryl looks at Gloria. 

“Thanks.” he says, earning a nod and smile from Gloria, “‘re we good?”

Gloria chuckles at his question, “I just went out of my way to get your brother’s body back and made a grave for him, and you’re still asking if we’re good?” 

Daryl scoffs at her, “can never really tell wit’ ya.”

“We’re good.” Gloria says, patting his arm as a reassurance, “you know, Merle talked to me about you.”

Daryl eyes her at this information, not sure what to say or what to expect. What would Merle tell her? A slight feeling of anxiety and potential embarrassment creeping up in his gut as he waits for Gloria to continue.

“He said you look at me differently. That you... you really do care about me.” Gloria says, now looking to the ground, shyness taking over her.

Daryl rolls his eyes, “been tryin’ to tell ya that but ya wouldn’ listen.”

“Can you blame me? I was pissed at you for leaving.” Gloria retorts, making Daryl chuckle.

Another moment of silence passes between them. Daryl looks over at Gloria and hesitantly reaches out to hold her hand. Even though she told him that they’re on good terms, he didn’t know what to really expect or where their boundaries lie. He smiles softly when she gladly takes his hand in hers, then tugs her hand, wanting to pull her in for a hug. Gloria doesn’t resist as he puts his arms around her, holding her close.

“Thank you.” he whispers in her ear, “this means a lot.”

“It’s nothing.” Gloria whispers back, wrapping her arms around him, enjoying the embrace.

Daryl shakes his head at her words, “it ain’ nothin’.”

Gloria pulls back and looks up at Daryl. His hands on her waist, still holding her to him. He looks into her eyes meaningfully as Gloria smiles at him, caressing his cheek with her hand. Daryl leans into her touch.

“You know what, you’re right.” Gloria says, making Daryl furrow his brow, slightly confused, “this isn’t nothing.”

Her hand slides up behind his head as she leans forward and kisses his lips. Daryl reciprocates, kissing her back as he tightens his hold on her. There was something unspoken about the kiss, a mutual understanding, a mutual love. It didn’t need to be said with words, it was official for them. He was hers, and she was his. 

---

Next Chapter

Tada~~! And there you have it! Season 3 comes to a close and our couple is finally official!!! Yes I know, it took 3 seasons but it was worth it... right? :D Writing action scenes are hard!! I’m sorry if it seems unclear as to what I was trying to portray, I’m still getting used to being that descriptive with action sequences. ANYWAY, please let me know what you guys thought of this chapter! I’ll be posting the first chapter of Season 4 on Monday so look out for that!!! 

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​ | @jodiereedus22​ | @theonlyone-meeeee​

[storybookhall]

The Journey Pt. 6- In Sickness And In Health

a/n- Some death in this one. This entire series will have a LOT of spoilers so i apologize. I’ll try to put a warning before a death. I forgot to warn about Merle’s death and I’m sorry <3

Summary- Being free from The Governor, Rick’s group begins to grow again. Until they are struck with widespread tragedy...

TW-Death, Sickness, Slight Fluff, Strong Language, Adult Themes.

A long time has passed since Woodbury, you still hurt but find time to start healing a little more each day. This place has begun to thrive, raising pigs, planting crops, and having a community. The night you had with Daryl almost seems like a dream at this point, you don’t let him get close. You can’t. You lost daddy, momma, Tia… You can’t love anyone, you can’t handle it. You wake up to a gunshot ringing out from the other side of the prison. ‘Shit’...

“Daryl! Rick!?” You scream sprinting down the hallway towards cell block D

As you run closer you hear shots and screaming ringing through the halls, opening the door you see walkers. Your friends. Your family. You go straight to clearing it. As you frantically scan the area with your back against the wall, one final walker pins you against the wall.

“ Shit… Fuck.” you mutter to yourself as you have your knife knocked from you. Your arms start to get weaker as you fight for your life.

“ Drop!” you hear Daryl’s gruff voice yell. 

You drop and not even 2 seconds later Daryl shoots an arrow into the walker. It collapses on you as you lay on the floor panting.

“ I totally had that.” You say “smiling” trying to make light of this terrifying situation. 

“ get up.” He says with slight panic in his voice.

You stand up and he starts checking every inch of you for bites or scratches, when he felt like he checked you well enough he pulled you into a bear hug and squeezed you tight. You both stood there for a moment thankful for each others’ safety. Until you hear your name from the bottom cells.

“ Y/n!! Come quick!” You hear carol yell. You break from Daryls’ grip but he grabs your hand and turns you towards him again.

“Be safe… please” Daryl’s eyes glaze over with worry.

You run down the stairs to Carol’s voice, stopping in your tracks as you see her looking at Ryan’s back and seeing a bite mark. 

“ y/n, I need you to go get Mika and Lizzie for me.” She looks at you with fearful eyes.

“ Wait! Wait… y/n.” Ryan tries to sit up while begging you to wait.

You turn around and see tears streaming down his face, he is aware this is the end. So are you.

“ Will you please take care of my girls… You and Carol are good with kids, I’ve seen y’all.” He pleads looking into your eyes.

“ Of course, I’ll treat ‘em as my own.” You assure him as you turn to walk out the door hearing a faint “thank you” slip his lips.

After grabbing the girls you walk in and Ryan isn’t looking good, sweat and tears mix as they race down his face. He puts on a front for the girls but you see the pain in his eyes.

“ Girls… Be good for Carol and y/n. Listen to everything they say… Do that for me.” Ryan chokes out while hugging the girls. You lead them out of the room as Carol takes care of him.

As they cling to you, you feel eyes on you. Looking up you see Daryl with sympathy in his eyes. Picking up Mika you bring her into a big hug and promise to be there for her forever.

“Girls. Go with carol for a bit, I’m going to go sit in my room for a bit.” Giving them a kiss on the cheek they walk off hand in hand.

That night was sleepless, worrying about how your life is going to be having “daughters” now. You swear to protect them with your life, as long as you shall live. The next morning Daryl knocks on the wall outside of your cell.

“ Hey y/n, there’s an issue. We need you.” There’s a seriousness in his voice that you can’t quite put.

You go with Carol, Rick, and Daryl outside. Before you even walk out the door you smell something you know too well, burned flesh. Tyreese is out there waiting for you. As he starts raging about what went on, Rick attempts to calm him down and Tyreese punches him. Daryl pulls him off and gets pinned against the bars.

“ Tyreese!! Please stop… I’m sorry about what happened but we’ll find out what happened.” You softly speak to him, as you put your hand on his shoulder he swings his elbow back hitting you in the nose and eye.

Rick immediately tackled him and started beating on him while you lay on the ground. Daryl helps you up and you walk away cursing to yourself. You go to your cell and hang your head into your hands.

Letting yourself cry after weeks, it all comes flowing. Daddy, Tia, Momma, Merle… Death is all around you, as much as you hated Merle for what he did, he was Daryls’ brother and his love for Daryl got him killed. As you sob you lay down and just feel the weight of the world press on you. Unknown to you Daryl was sitting outside of your door, wanting to just walk in and hold you. Keeping his feelings for you on the down-low is tiring. He hears you get up and walks away. You walk out after wiping your face, and go to take a shower. You let everyone know so they don’t walk in. Stripping down you wait for the water to warm up. You hear a cough behind you.

“ Can I join?” Daryl’s voice is soft behind you but you still jump.

“ Of course.” You quietly say trying not to continue crying in front of him.

He strips and steps in pressing his torso into your back and wrapping his arms around you and holding you to him. You melt under the pressure of his big arms, you lay your head back on his chest letting the water hit your face. He grabs the shampoo and starts to massage it into your hair as you enjoy this new side of him, he’s gentle, sweet, loving. You turn towards him to rinse your hair and you see his eyes, not wondering about your body. They are locked on your face, with pure admiration. A smile creeps on your face and a tear slips out, hidden by the water. He brings his face to yours and just when you thought he was going to kiss you, he lightly rubs his nose against yours. You finish rinsing your hair and start cleaning his body while he scrubs the shampoo into his scalp. With his eyes closed you bite your lip looking at the man in front of you, completely naked but you know he didn’t come in here for sex. You are blown away by the intimacy of this, the cleansing of 2 bodies. He presses his body to yours putting the soap from him onto you. You stand there caressing each other’s bodies, memorizing every curve and dip. 

“Daryl I...” you start to speak but he lightly kisses you.

“ Shhh. Let’s just enjoy this.” He whispers as he moves to kiss your forehead gently.

He puts conditioner in his hands and ran it through your hair, getting every strand. You put your arms around his neck and just hold yourself to him feeling his warm skin against yours. Rinsing all the soap off of you, you turn off the shower. Before even registering what is going on he grabs your towel and wraps you up hugging you in your little fuzzy cocoon. As he pulls it over your head and dries your hair like a wet dog you laugh, something you don’t get to do often. You get dressed and begin to go back to your cell, before getting too far Daryl clears his throat.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been actin’... Y/n you are amazin.” Daryl sheepishly said as his gaze locks onto you.

Daryl walked quite a bit behind you so that no one suspects you two. He slips into your “room” when no one was looking to see you half-asleep on the bed. He sits down and places your head on his lap. Grabbing your brush he started brushing your hair as you slip into sleep. That night you don’t dream about walkers, the look on tia’s face before she died, or even your time at Woodbury. That night you dream of Daryl, years and years later. You are taking care of Lizzie and Mika but also have a baby of your own. You have a house, a dog, a fence, a car, and most of all… You have peace. 

The next day you sleep in, head still hurting from the blow you took from Tyreese. You hear arguing between Daryl and Rick. It sounds heated so you just wait to go to talk to them. 

“ What was that all about.” You ask Daryl with concern splayed on your face.

“ I can’t tell you the details but Carol is gone, she’s not dead but she ain’t coming back.” He tries to sound collected but he speeds through his words.

“ I’m so sorry” You try to hug him but he shakes you off walking away.

Later that day a group goes out to get supplies for Hershel to help everyone. You stay home although Daryl begged you to go with him. You assured him you’d stay safe and keep the girls away from the sickness. You sit for hours and wait, Lizzie starts coughing.

“ Lizzie sweetie… I’m going to bring you to Hershel okay?” You hold her hand and lead her to death row. How fitting….

“ Okay Momma” She stops quickly after saying that.

“ Sorry..” She says looking at the floor.

“ It’s fine. If you feel comfortable calling me that then go right ahead. I don’t mind” You say kissing her on the forehead and handing her off to Hershel.

Going back to Mika you sit on the other side of the door and feel a love you never felt towards anyone… A mothers love. You assure her that you are okay and that Lizzie is fine before walking away to rest. Once you wake you make a decision that could get you killed.

“ Hershel! Hey..” You stand outside the door to death row and get his attention.

“ y/n!? Are you alright?” He asks worried.

“ No, I’ve been coughing and shaking.” You lie but shudder to sell it.

Hershel lets you in and immediately sees through your lie, his eyes drop to the floor.

“ Why?” he asks quietly

“ I know where I need to be.” you say walking in to start rounds.

a/n- I must say… Soft Daryl has my entire heart, I thought y’all would enjoy him being a sweetie pie and me adding the song in. I am actually hella proud of this part, next part holds a LOT of drama.

@aquariusfangirl @mysterious-398 @onlydarylnormanfic