#torture dance squad

[virgothozul]

Bucci kids.

Torture Dance squad.

[valliesworld]

You Mean Something

masterlist

simon “ghost” riley x reader, mentions of other task force 141 members

genre: angst

warnings; she/her pronouns, mature content, standard call of duty violence, cursing, kidnapping, mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of torture, starvation

synopsis; after a failed mission that left you in the hands of the enemy, you finally realise how much Ghost cares for you

Distractions came easy to you, even if you tried your hardest to stay focused, to stay alive and awake, your mind still thought of him while you were being subjected to such torture. You think about his eyes a lot, how in his eyes his his humanity was shown, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would that mask and military vest, when he would become the man the army demanded of him. But you saw it in his eyes that day in the sunshine, waiting for the cadets to finish training. You saw the humour that burned there too, the sort that stays for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced when he trains, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. You have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear after a particularly hard mission. You know that isn't him, not the real version, the person you’ve grown to love with everything that is yourself. That's why you had to see his eyes before you go, to see the real him before you decided to give up and let death win. You wanted him to see you too, the girl who messes up, but would do anything in her power to keep him and the squad safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, no matter how deep his scars go. So when you think of him, you see a cheeky man who made cadets run laps til they turned green and hope to god he thinks of the vulnerable version of you, the one beneath the soldier.

In moments of silence, when your captors would leave you be, you would remembered the last conversation you had with your family. She had wished you well with tears in her eyes, making you promise you’d come back to her. Your father had been busting himself with house work, refusing to acknowledge that his youngest child was off to another suicide mission, just like he always did before you left. You had kissed your mother on the cheek as a goodbye, not promising a thing but granting her a smile, just in case that was the last time she’d ever see you again. Death wasn’t scary for you, you had accepted that you would die young, in your line of work death was not something that could be prevented, no matter how hard you might try. What did scare you though, was your nieces and nephews growing up without you, only seeing you in photos, it was your mother and father having to bury their youngest, it was your older brother and sister living without you. Death didn’t scare you, but the impact of yours on your family did.

You didn't know how long you had been held captive for, it could have been weeks, months, even years, at that point. What you did know was that the starvation they subjected you to as one last punishment had began to take it's toll on your body, your weight had dropped rapidly, leaving those metal cuffs loose around your wrists and ankles. At first it had been small strands of hair falling out from stress, then slowly it became more and more til you were left with thin strands to cover your head. Your body was always shivering, cold to touch, and you didn't know whether it was because you were forced to sleep on freezing concrete or if hypothermia was beginning. to settle within your bones.

Makarov had captured you for one thing, he had seen potential in you, wanted you on his side, and the only way he believed he could do that was if he broke you down into nothing, just to rebuild you as the soldier he always desired. He had watched from afar as you had taken down men three times your size, as you cleared bases by yourself, and how you lived up to your callsign. He knew you were young, younger than the other task force members, and with being young came being naive and impressionable, Makarov wanted to use those attributes and swing them to his favour.

In some of your exhausted delusions, you dreamt of your team, of your family. You had dreamt of your first Christmas with the task force, how you had sat in your room with the computer screen on, talking and listening to your family on the other line, wishing to be back home and apart of their celebrations, that was, until Gaz barged into your room and dragging you out for a Christmas surprise with your chosen family. You had dreamt of the day you accepted death, how you leant up against that brick wall, the rain pouring from above and mixing with your blood; red water sweeping the street. You had accepted your fate that afternoon, dying alone, until you knight in a shining skull mask whisked you off your feet and to survival. You dreamt of the day your nephew was born, how his tiny hands wrapped around your finger, chosing you to be his favourite person in that moment. You dreamt of many things, but one always kept returning. The delusion that Ghost would save you one last time.

"Fear is part of being human, Redback, it's the precursor to bravery. We need it, it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So feel it, own it, let it ignite your thoughts," Gaz's words echo in your mind constantly, they were one of the first words he ever spoke to you, and they resonated with her throughout her short years with the task force. They kept you alive at that point, they told you no matter how inhuman you felt, you were still alive, still breathing, still ready to fight.

Your cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there, and you were beginning to. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.

You could hear the sound of feet slamming against concrete, though your eyes never opened, refusing to see what was coming to torment you that time. They had stripped you of everything, they took your weapons, and your dignity. They had left you to rot in the cell in cotton underwear and a white undershirt, though both items were caked in dirt, grim, and stained with your own blood.

The sound of keys jingling had caught your attention, and when you opened your eyes you kept your gaze away from the intruder. Instead, you found the bruises and dried blood on your ankles far more interesting. The person had unlocked your hands first, fumbling with the keys as if he were nervous, as if something had gone wrong, and that had been his first mistake. When your hands were greeted freedom, you finally looked over at the man, your knife, the one they had stolen from you, sat perched on his hip. They had stolen your gear just to use it against you, and that fact gave you more motivation than anything previously, you wanted your things back.

Without a second of hesitation, your hands wrapped around the knife, plucking it from his tactical belt, your tactical belt, and plunged it into his thigh. He cried out in pain, something you never gave them the satisfaction of hearing, as he doubled over from the fiery sensation in his leg you pulled the knife out again and plunged it into his neck, blood that was not yours finally coating your body again. As you let out all your frustration on the man, pulling the knife out just to slam it back in over and over again, you began to register the sound of gunfire, the sound of Russian shouting, and the feeling of panic the base you were trapped within was beginning to feel.

Once you were positive the man below you was dead, you began stripping him as they had once stripped you. You took the keys from his cold, dead hands, and unlocked your feet from the shackles, your ankles screaming in relief. You then took his clothing, albeit they were far too large for you, they were better than what you had been forced to stay in for your time as a prisoner. Tightening the pants around your waist with your belt, you felt somewhat okay, you didn't feel helpless or hopeless, you felt determined, determined to get out of there yourself, since there would be no rescue party for you.

Gripping onto the rifle, one that wasn't yours originally, you began your escape. As you made your way through the base, leaving a trail of bodies behind you, you felt like yourself again, you felt like the soldier once were. You had reminded yourself of things that were facts; you were one of the youngest ever recorded female members to join the SAS, you were an accomplished soldier, a sergeant before your twenty first birthday, you were a force to be reckoned with; those facts kept you motivated throughout your escape, you were all those things, and more, and you could get yourself out of any situation.

Sticking to the shadows, you took down over twenty soldiers, cornering them til they were alone, and that tactic had worked well enough, til your luck ran out. The corner you took was one of bad judgement, over fifteen men resided there, all on high alert for your whereabouts, and with no shadows to conceal yourself, you had no other option but to simply turn back around, though when you did so, you found yourself face with thirty other men, ready to pounce. Weighing your options, you knew that to surrender was your only choice, if you wanted to stay alive. Letting the rifle hang from your shoulder, you held your hands up, defeat running thick through your veins.

They didn't make a move though, not one soldier stood out of line, all of them waiting for you to make the first move, to do something unpredictable, until he sauntered out of the crowd. Makarov's second in charge, Yuri, grinned like a mad man as he gripped you roughly, pulling you in the direction of another room and dismissing the men on guard. You were no longer deemed as a threat as he led you into the room, far nicer than the cell you had grown accustomed to.

He stripped you of your weapons, though he was not thorough, leaving your bloodied knife within your waistband as he took the rifle and pistol from your body, turning the safety on and throwing them across the room.

"I thought we beat the need to escape out of you," he tsked, hands feeling your body in a way far less appropriate than simply looking for weapons. "But I now see that you have to be broken in a different way to get you to comply with our rules."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the five other men walked through the door, dragging their bodies with them. Three had a grip on Ghost's sluggish body, and two were struggling against Soap's protests. The men forced Ghost and Soap to their knees, Ghost having to steady himself by placing his hands in front of him to keep him from falling foreword. They had drugged him, most likely using the same one they had used to keep you compliant in the first weeks of your capture.

"Redback?" Ghost questioned softly as he looked towards you, confusion running through his mind.

"These two were found sneaking around our base," Yuri revealed, toying with a piece of your hair as he forced you to look at them. Soap held a look of distraught as he looked over at you, like he had just seen a real ghost, while Ghost's eyes held a look of resentment within them. You weren't sure who the resentment was pointed towards, but you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't directed at you. "And now you'll watch them die."

Yuri stepped foreword, his own pistol raised, pressing the barrel against Soap's head as he looked back at you. With a clenched jaw, you pulled the knife from your waistband and pressed it against your wrist. The sharpness of it caused a small speck of blood to dribble down your arm and drip to the floor, but despite the sting you kept it in place.

"Makarov wants me, you kill them and I'll die with them," You spoke clearly, despite your voice being hoarse from not speaking for days on end. "How would that look for you? Under your watch, his prized possession dies because you can't do your fucking job right."

Yuri let out a dry chuckle, "so loyal," he commented, looking towards the men knelt before him, "and where are your pleas? When she was taken from you, you left her. Maybe you two would rather her blood spill to cover your sins."

"Shut up," You hissed, their silence to his words were deafening, a heartbreaking scene as Ghost looked anywhere but at you.

"I want you to memorise this moment, they weren't here to rescue you," Yuri growled, "They were completing another mission, and you so happen to be here as well."

Ghost's eyes, despite hooded with the effects of the drug, widened slightly, struggling even harder against the three men that held him in place. Soap on the other hand, used the distraction as an ample time to escape. Taking the gun from Yuri, Soap pointed it towards the men holding him down and left off two shots, killing them quickly. You had taken this opportunity to throw the knife, watching with a sickening smile as it lodged itself into Yuri's chest. Ghost, regardless of being under the influence of a drug, took down two of the men holding him hostage while Soap let off another shot into the final man.

Ignoring the two men, you walked over towards Yuri, watching as he spluttered out in pain. Hovering over him, you crouched down, twisting the knife deeper into his chest. Pulling it out, you relished in the pool of blood that began to form.

"I want you to memorise this moment," You repeated his words to him as you dragged the bloodied knife down his cheek, smearing his own blood on his face, "that nobody is here to rescue you." and with that, you plunged the knife up through his bottom jaw.

Months had come and gone, and you had not spoken a word to anyone on Task Force 141 since you had been brought back to the. safety of your base. The wounds, the injuries to your flesh would heal long before you're able to heal your brain. You had gone through a lot, many scars now littered your body, your ankles and wrists having a permanent red line from the rubbing of your shackles, and your mind was in shambles. Laswell had told you that they hadn't looked for you once, that they assumed you were dead and had even informed your family of you being killed in action. You felt almost betrayed that they didn't even bother to look for you, that the mission was more important to them, to Ghost, than to see you still breathing.

The doctors had gotten you healthy again, gave you the fluids and sustenance you had been deprived on before setting you up with a physiotherapist. That man had retaught you how to do simple tasks, explaining to you that the only reason you were capable of such things during your escape was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It had taken you four months to get back to doing things on your own, and an additional three months before you were back to your usual abilities, and still within all that time, you refused to look at the men that had left you in the hands of the enemy. They had offered you leave, to go home and spend time with family, but if the mission was as important as leaving behind a team member, it only made sense to stay and complete it before gifting yourself with seeing your parents relieved faces.

The gym was quiet at three am, sleep no longer a need for you as it only plagued your mind with unwanted memories. The sound of your knuckles coming in contact with the rubber punching bag silenced your mind, created an inner peace within you as you assaulted the equipment. Nobody else resided inside as you continued to push your abilities, seeing just how long you could do this before getting tired. You used to be able to go for hours, but now, it seemed that you could only do half of that.

Your inner peace was quickly ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps, and before you could even register what was happening, his hands wrapped around your waist and pushed you against the closest wall. He turned you to face him, the hard skull plate from his mask was gone, his balaclava the only thing separating them from each other. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, the black war paint he usually sported was not there, leaving his expressions easier to read.

"You never threaten to kill yourself to save me again," His voice was rough, reminding you of a hot long black in the early of the morning, bitter and abrasive, burning your tongue. "I'd rather get shot ten times over than ever see you do that again."

Scoffing, you looked at him with a frown, "A few months too late for this revelation, Lieutenant."

"I don't care," He huffed, grip on your waist loosening, "You don't get to do that shit, not anymore."

"And you don't get too care, why do you even care? Huh?" You spluttered out, words dripping with venom, "You left me there to die, Laswell told me everything, told me how you all didn't even give me a second thought, told my fucking family I was dead."

"I watched you die," He growled out, "I watched as that bullet went through your chest, as you fell to the ground."

"And you didn't think to check? The mission that important to you that you can't go over to a wounded soldier and check if their heart is still beating?" You all but screamed at him, if you were anyone else, your yelling at a superior would go severly punished, "I was wearing a fucking chest plate, you saw me put it on, you checked I had it on before we started that fucking mission, and you still left me for dead."

"You don't think I don't remember that now?" He yelled back. at you, voice booming throughout the gym, "You don't think I wasn't awake every night wondering about you? Thinking of things I could have done differently? I completed that mission and went back for you, you were gone."

"Why do you care so much?" You hissed at him, "The first time we met you told me that I'd be another dead body at the edge of your boot because you didn't think I was good enough, why care now?"

"Because you mean something to me," He revealed, though his words were sweet his tone wasn't, it was like he resented the fact that you meant something to him, "you mean more to me every single day, that's why I care."

[soleilchanson]

Ex bf Price who was your first and knows everything about your body sees you with your new boyfriend for the first time and can’t help but get jealous MDNI

Note: AFAB reader referred to as she/her. Not proofread. Still editing.

NSFW content - mentions of sex and sexual experiences. No direct smut

Masterlist

Price hated weddings. The unnecessary crying, large centerpieces, fancy food that tasted like nothing but cream and butter, and dancing. He hated all of it.

However, if you asked him about his opinions on weddings five months ago, he would’ve gone on and on about how he loves weddings.

Why the change of opinion? Because you broke up with him. He had been with a lot of women before but only you had managed to create large tremors in his heart and mind.

He didn’t show it but he was a complete mess after breaking up. Had a sour attitude, picked a fight with anyone within a six foot radius, and drank like a sailor. It only took him five months to finally stop associating your favorite things with you. Five months of pure torture is what the 141 called it.

The five months where hell ascended to the surface.

And now the squad was afraid it would happen again. After the break up, you happened to get very friendly with Kyle. The two of you kept close contact throughout so he naturally invited you to his wedding. What he wasn’t expecting was for your current boyfriend to be in the army as well. Just not as well known.

Price was going to lose his mind.

“I’m a grown man. Quit tryin’ to distract me. I know she’s here with someone.” The commander scoffed as Simon and Soap tried their best to hide you and your boyfriend from his view.

Of course, he knew you were with someone. He had eyes and ears everywhere including your current boyfriend’s team. He knew the bugger had quite the history with women and specifically went after you because you had little experience. Lucky for the captain, your boyfriend didn’t know that he was your ex.

Price couldn’t peel his eyes away from you from the beginning of the ceremony till dinner time. You look ravishing in your outfit. He remembered how you would always ask him to zip your dresses up and you both would end up arriving late to events because he would do the opposite.

He noticed how you wore the earrings he got you, giving him hope that somewhere in your heart you still wanted to be with him.

After the ceremony, the women gathered in their own separate area, sitting with the bride and asking her about the wedding and taking a few candid photos. The men had mostly dispersed to the bar or outside the wedding hall for a smoke break. The entirety of the 141 squad left with Kyle for a smoke, probably to enjoy his last few moments before he left for his honeymoon. But Price didn’t like corny goodbyes so he stayed behind.

He sipped his whiskey, reminiscing about his own dreams of getting married until he heard boisterous laughing coming from a group approaching his side of the bar.

It was your ex. Price knew his name but preferred to call him Dick when he thought of him. He chose his last name as Head. He could overhear Dick talk about his new girlfriend and Price immediately directed all his attention towards them. Discreetly of course. He was still facing the bartender so it seemed like he was uninterested.

“I’m telling you, mate, she is so easy to please. All I need to do fuck her and she climaxes. It’s fucking insane.” Dick bragged as he took a swig of his beer. Price had a small smile on his face. He knew some lousy fucking could never get you off.

“I know you didn’t come last night. Don’t lie to me.” Price said as he cuddled with you on your shared bed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” You sheepishly replied. “Next time you don’t feel satisfied, I want you to tell me.” He pulled away and straddled you. “Now let me make it up to you the right way, yeah?” He said as he lifted your tank top and began kissing down your abdomen.

“She doesn’t even beg me to do anything. I can do whatever I want. It’s heaven.” Price wanted to laugh out loud. You? Not saying what you wanted? Sounds like Dick was sleeping with a total stranger.

“John, please, I need you in me. I can’t take any more of this teasing.” You groaned against his neck. Price chose to ignore you and kept rubbing his fingers around your entrance. “Come on, darling, you can be a little patient.” You huffed in anger and rolled on top of him. “Either you fuck me like I asked or I’ll ride you so hard you’ll forget your name.” You snapped. Price smiled knowing that neither of you were going to wake up early the next day.

“She also hates all that aftercare shit which is good because I’m fucking beat after all that work.” This guys was a ball of grease. Price wondered how you met him but chose to find out the answer later.

You were laying on Price’s chest after a particularly rough session. His hand played with your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. You had this habit of going non verbal after sex so you could recover your mental energy as well. Price understood and respected that so he’d hold you as you regained your strength. It was your own little heaven with him. Sometimes he’d bring you warm tea and snacks to rejuvenate, other times he’d lightly massage your shoulders as you’d sleep on top of him.

It was confirmed- you did not give a fuck about Dick and he was a rebound. Price laughed loudly and all the men in the group beside him turned. He got off the bar stool and walked to Dick. He placed his hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder and held it with a firm grip.

“Hope you get the message.” He said before sarcastically chuckling and walking away.

“The fuck is he on about?” He heard Dick murmur while he headed to where you were sitting with the women.

You seem surprised to see him but walked to a corner away from the wedding hall.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you close enough to smell the whiskey in his breath. “I believe you and I need to have a conversation.”

-•-

Didn’t like Price’s character when I first learned about him and look at me now. Maybe I’ll write a part 2, idk I like surprising people.

[corpsoir]

torture dance squad feat abbacchio idk

come on gang lets bully a goth in italy

[babiedemon]

THE GREAT WAR . . . katniss everdeen / reader

genre . . . angst, hurt/comfort, mockingjay era, movie-based

tw . . . major character deaths, pstd, slight gore

district thirteen was boring, to say the least. you’d been there for weeks following the destruction of your district. a bunker underground was your last choice for comfort, but it was a lot better than the ashen shambles of the home you’d escaped from.

the only bonus you counted was the presence of katniss everdeen, the mockingjay for all intents and purposes. she was complicated, to say the least, and especially as a roommate.

there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t woken by her tortured screams, by her delirious sleepwalking through the compound. and there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t clambering up to her bunk, sinking in beside her, following her through corridors.

“i’m sorry you got stuck with me,” she’d rasped one night, both your heads submerged in a private world beneath a blanket. you’d chuckled, brushed a few dark hairs from her eyes.

“it’s not stuck if i signed up for it,” you’d whispered back. she’d smiled then, a half smile that hardly reached her eyes.

“i signed up for a lot of things i wished i hadn’t.” the words had hurt your heart, the large portion dedicated specifically for her.

“if i hadn’t, i would’ve spent the rest of my time here wishing i had.” she’d sighed, fought the smile on her lips, avoided eye contact.

it was that night that you first entertained the idea that, perhaps in an ideal world, you could care for katniss. that you could love her in ways other than camaraderie.

katniss looked good in grey. you acknowledged this from the other side of the atrium, your gaze crossing dancing bodies and gleeful faces to observe her steely expression. you could see the contemplation on her placid visage, the slight crease of her eyebrows, the frown tugging just barely at the corner of her lips.

she was planning, brainstorming, setting her sights on a new goal. you could tell from the sea of thoughts swarming in her grey seam eyes. you could see the hint of pain on her face, either from her recent exposure to the shambles of peeta mellark or the bruised ribs occupying her chest.

johanna approached her, the shadowed cheekbones and shaved head only adding to her dismaying persona. she and katniss spoke for a few long moments, johanna’s free facial expressions a stark contrast to the guarded feelings of katniss. it left a bad taste in your mouth, a dread in your stomach. you didn’t like it, especially as katniss seemed to let relief wash over her for the first time in weeks.

something was happening, and it was bound to be a train wreck.

you were right, as your gut typically was. you gave yourself no time to triumph your infallible intuition, the plane jolting as it touched down in rebel headquarters, as it touched down within a half mile of katniss’s whereabouts. you were the first to leave as the doors opened, a bulletproof vest hanging off your shoulders and a rifle weighing on your fingertips. finnick lingered meters behind you, and after him were boggs, pollux, castor, messalla, and cressida.

you couldn’t stop the smile from breaking on your face upon spotting katniss’s dreary face hidden amongst her squad members. you were struck with tunnel vision, briskly walking to your brunette comrade, ignoring the burn in your calves in favor of reaching her.

“y/n?” she inquired, face confused and eyes lit up, already bounding towards you. you opened your arms for her, slowing your pace and letting her fall into you. you could feel the relief settling into her bones, her muscles relaxing into your chest, a troubled sigh heaving from her bruised lung. “what are you doing here?”

“i think the better question is what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be back in thirteen,” you chastised, voice stern despite the aching dread fleeing your stomach. she chuckled breathily, muscles tensing back up, your words chasing every drop of sudden joy from her thin frame.

“i had to kill him. i had to kill snow,” she whispered, loud enough for only your ears.

there was another suspicion of yours confirmed. she’d signed herself up for certain death under the smallest inkling of a chance to murder her worst enemy. so much for being selfish, you mused. there wasn’t a selfish bone in her entire brittle body.

the pods were a nightmare. you decided this as you watched a stream of flame erupt and a peacekeeper vehicle explode, shrapnels of molten metal flying in every direction. they were deadly, unpredictable, unable to be entirely safe from.

somehow, you found peeta mellark’s arrival to be more of a nightmare. he was muttering to himself, trampling over the marble ruins of the capitol, clearly out of his mind as he made his best effort to join your unit. you’d been given the grand responsibility of cuffing him, the battered look on his haunted face sending wave after wave of sorrow wracking through your body.

he was once kind, a sweet baker’s boy with a talent for paint. he’d hugged you once as a child, after helping you up from your uncoordinated trip over uneven pavement. he hadn’t known you then, and he didn’t know you now, the recognition absent from his hollow eyes. that was what pained you the most. he was an empty shell of the kind soul he once was. you could see the pain on katniss’s face, too.

nightfall had arrived, and your watch had finally ended, leaving you exhausted in the wake of your eventful day. katniss sat upright behind your head, her thigh just barely brushing the ends of your hair, her fidgeting sending shockwaves through the cement and into your body. you let your eyes crack open, squinting up at her in the dark ruins of what was once a home.

her eyes were far away, reflecting some distant feeling of chaos and dread. you had a feeling it wasn’t so distant from her, not with the source of all her stresses slumbering a few feet to her left. her hand had begun absentmindedly twirling your hair, her face showing no signs of awareness. it was enough to lull you to a restless sleep amidst all the chaos.

you awoke to her body clambering from the floor and her boots snapping with each quick step from you. you arose drowsily, sweeping your gun into your hand, and followed her outside. she was brittle, as was shown by the tortured contortion of her freckled face. she barely cast a glance your way in all of her inner turmoil.

the most you could do was rub her shoulder and hope for the best.

boggs was in less than top working condition, his legs having been blown off mere moments before. your hands shook as you struggled to secure a tourniquet around what was left of his left leg. he wasn’t going to make it, and you knew this in your core, but you couldn’t live knowing you hadn’t at least tried to save him.

the blood rushed out in copious amounts, staining your hands and the marble ground of his final resting place. wails and cries of one of the leeg sisters, leeg two of you weren’t mistaken, were merely background noise, your hearing taken by the rush of your heart in your chest and your own desperate, whimpering sobs. you were only pulled from your frenzied haze by castor’s hand grasping your shoulder, a somber look on his face as he shook his head.

the grief was short lived, leeg one setting off a pod in her attempt to tend to her sister. you were the first on your feet upon seeing the courtyard closing in, your feet carrying you to the nearest building. katniss lay at the back of your mind, your adrenaline kicking in and your survival instinct prioritizing your own self-preservation.

it was your gun that shattered the glass door, and your footsteps that echoed first in the empty shell of a townhouse, and your mangled cry that carried down the stairs upon finding the stairs dismantled. you made your best attempt at finding a way up them, somehow tugging yourself up onto the crumbling stone by exposed metal braces.

you waited for only a few moments before katniss appeared in view, face red and eyes darting, searching the small crowd of her unit. you noted the absence of holmes alongside boggs, and your heart sunk. you’d lost not one, but two.

“where’s y/n?” you heard, her voice frenzied and dripping with her anxiety. the black goo had infiltrated the building, gushing in at such high velocities you were scared you’d all drown in it. it kissed the edge of the stairs, climbed up them slowly, slowing to a complete stop just as it touched the top of the staircase.

“shit,” gale muttered, his face crestfallen as he mourningly gazed out to the sea of black flooding the courtyard. it was then you remembered you had a voice, your throat having been closed the entire duration of the short lived conversation. you peaked around the corner from where you’d climbed up to the next landing, now sobered from your adrenaline rush and realizing just how far of a jump it would be to get yourself down. how had you gotten up here?

“up here, kat,” you called, voice breaking mid sentence, breathy and terrified. relief leaked into her not because of the lethal goo draining from the building, but from the realization that you had in fact made it out.

“how in the hell did you get up there, sunshine?” cressida breathily chuckled, her nose scrunched as a crooked smile took her face and her head tilted. you shrugged, eyes darting as you attempted to plan your descent.

“i haven’t the slightest clue. can someone help me down?” you asked timidly, slowly inching to the edge of the decimated staircase. gale and pollux made their move, both being the largest men, with finnick ready to support if need be.

you got down, but not without a few bruises and a hefty amount of brute force. you’d jumped to save time, gale barely catching you and ending up slamming into the plaster behind him. it was katniss who settled you on your feet and it was katniss who pushed you behind her.

“give me the pod, everdeen,” jackson demanded, her face somehow harder than usual. katniss was defiant, refusing the give up the pod, a lie tumbling from her lips faster than the rate at which all weapons were lifted. you were just as steely as jackson, rifle lifted to your chest, aimed for her head, eyes narrowed and fierce.

“it’s true,” cressida interjected, stepping in the direct line of fire. you admired her bravery, the gall she’d never hesitated to make use of, remained unfazed by the barrel of a weapon aimed at her head. “coin wants it televised.”

you all knew it was a lie, every last one of you. the mission from the start was to film propos until the rebels took president snow into custody. it was common knowledge amongst both the soldiers and district thirteen’s film crew. katniss was a terrible liar, but with more against her than supporting her, jackson had no choice but to back down. it was an outnumbered match and there were peacekeepers minutes away. your unit had to move, and quick.

seeing your face paired with a canon was the last thing you’d expected to see broadcast in a capitol home. you and gale had made quick work of devouring handfuls of snacks left by the homeowners, a frown on your face as your mind struggled to wrap around the events transpiring moments ago.

the leeg sisters were dead, blown to bits by peacekeepers nearly an hour before. boggs was dead, holmes was dead, and there was no way out except down. you knew this, and you knew it well. your numbers were dwindling, and if your unit had any chance at survival, the best way to proceed would be through the sewers and underground railways.

katniss was in a worse state than you, her entire body down to her eyes dissheveled and frantic. she hadn’t stopped shaking since you’d arrived in the townhouse across the courtyard, a distracted gleam in her grey eyes. you hoped she could make it through this alive.

sewer water was surprisingly cold, chilling you to your core. you lingered just behind katniss, the light of the holo guiding your way, your hand braced against the hem of her vest. the water reached your shoulders, smelling rancid and leaving a grimy feeling against your skin.

“i don’t like this,” you whispered to katniss, your voice echoing in the flooded pipes. she let out a shaky sigh and nodded, a smile hardly lifting the corner of her mouth.

you reached a resting point at last and you were hot on her heels, just behind her in clambering up the ladder. you were panting as you collapsed on the lifted platform, chilled as the dirty water dried to your skin and protective clothing.

“get some rest,” katniss heaved, eyes darting to meet yours, knuckles brushing yours. a jolt of electricity jumped through your arm. you could feel the heat of your face in your eyes. she smiled, a small gesture that barely stretched past the small curl of her lips and the slight crinkle of her eyes, but it was enough for you — enough to show she cared.

“i don’t think i could if i wanted to,” you whispered, punctuating your statement with a chuckle. you looked down at yourself, at the other rebels hidden away with you. your gaze lingered on peeta, the exhaustion clear on his dozing face. “besides, our watch starts soon. we’ve still got peeta to look after.”

“still, get some rest ‘til then.” you nodded hesitantly, letting your head lean back against the concrete railing. she sighed, a soft sound that echoed in the crowded space. her forearm slid behind your head, hand curling to cup your cheek, and guided your temple to her shoulder. the scratchy gear was uncomfortable against your skin.

you hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until your watch started. katniss jolted, waking you with such suddenness that a violent gasp escaped your lips and your hands automatically came to grip your rifle. your eyes darted around, finally piecing together the situation, and you let yourself heaven a soft sigh of relief.

peeta and katniss exchanged a few words as you sat, words you couldn’t bring yourself to eavesdrop on. your eyes, instead, scoped the dark enveloping your unit. there wasn’t much to see, wasn’t much to hear beyond the drip of water and the faint light rippling in the sewer water.

it was a long while until there was something to hear, screams of avoxes echoing distantly in the sewer system. katniss was quick to descend the steel ladder into the murky abyss below. you followed diligently, rifle up and aimed at the dark tunnel she shone a light down. your own light was on, shining a bit further than the holo’s, casting a white glow on the walls and water a hundred meters away.

“what is it?” you whispered as quietly as possible. katniss was equally as confused, eyebrows furrowed and eyes large. it wasn’t until peeta jolted awake that you realized there was something truly to fear lingering in the tunnels.

“we gotta go,” he gasped, horrified, eyes as wide as saucers and face paler than you’d ever seen it. he practically jumped down from the platform, using only one rung to guide himself down. “they released mutts!”

all was well, until it wasn’t. you’d been the second person to climb through the small concrete window, joining pollux on the other side. gale crept across next, then katniss, and peeta, and finnick, until jackson remained. she swept over her surroundings with a piercing light, turned to face you, and froze. you didn’t need any other sign, taking hold of pollux’s hand and dragging him along with you. your warning bells were going mad, adrenaline flooding your muscles and sending you into overdrive.

an explosion lit the passageway behind you, and gale’s fiery shots illuminated your way through the winding sewers. the mutts were gaining, castor’s agonized screams echoing hauntingly loud in your ears. you pushed down your tears, your sorrow, and ran. you ran until you reached an opening, until you reached a ladder, and swung around with your rifle in hand.

“go! go!” you shrieked, shooting down every grotesque capitol creation you could aim for. katniss disappeared into the water, dragged off the metal platform by a mutt. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, shooting anything that moved, even after katniss had ascended, until you and finnick were the only soldiers remaining in the convergence. finnick shoved you, breaking your spell, a mutt only barely missing your jugular. its teeth sunk into your shoulder, ripped apart by finnick’s small dagger. your scream echoed, tearing through your throat.

“christ, y/n, go!” he bellowed. it took nothing more for you to spin on your heel and begin your ascent to your unit, to katniss. her eyes jumped between you and finnick, her arm outstretched to help you up. the pain radiated into your spine, your rib cage, your elbow. it was blinding and it was everywhere. you finally grasped katniss’s shaking hand, letting her and gale rip you away from the opening quicker than the mutt had ripped into you.

“oh my god, y/n. oh my god,” gale gasped, fingers applying pressure to the gaping, bloody wound stretching into your nervous system. you smacked his hand away, a hiccuping sob shrieking from your chest. you dragged yourself onto your feet, scooping up your weapon, tugging pollux’s hand with teary eyes.

“please. pollux, please, we need out,” you wailed, eyes blindly darting for an exit. you pushed through once you’d found it, rifle up and aiming the second you passed through. you were running, the footsteps of your comrades sounding behind you. you saw the peacekeepers before they saw you, a gut feeling guiding your aim. you’d shot down as many as you could see, bullets whizzing past.

circular panels in the ceilings began lighting, dread sinking into your stomach. upon a glance over your shoulder, you realized messalla hadn’t noticed in time. an unidentifiable mass of smoking cubes made up what was once a dear friend, another piece of your heart breaking as the capitol stole yet another life from your grasp. you turned your attention back forward, pushing against the wheezing in your lungs and the ache in your shoulder and the burn in your legs. you reached the stairs before the others, pausing to let them catch up.

peeta lay crumpled on the floor, rotating saws having broken the tile floor where you’d all ran mere moments ago. you struggled to catch your breath, the adrenaline proving to be the best natural stimulant. if it weren’t for the pure terror coursing through your veins, you were sure you wouldn’t have made it out of the sewer. you were certain finnick would’ve had to leave you.

where was finnick?

you gave yourself no time to dwell, cressida’s body pushing past you, darting up the stairs and leaving nothing but a gust of wind in her wake. you followed closely behind the others, holding up the rear, your rifle aiming in every direction.

“open the door!” cressida was shouting, slamming her hand repeatedly against the glass door. “open the door! let us in!”

the shouting didn’t stop until you filed in, slamming the door shut with your injured shoulder. it sent a violent wave of agony through your body. you collapsed with a hand cradling your bleeding wound, tilting your head to the ceiling.

“come on,” katniss breathed, thumb stroking your cheekbone. you shook your head, sob after sob wracking through your body. you’d never felt such a horrible pain in your life, stretching to your very core, leaving all your organs aching in its wake.

“i can’t, i can’t,” you wheezed, struggling to find your airway again. katniss was grounding, her fingers stroking yours, her hand settling on your chest above your vest. you found your breathing that way, with her palm reminding you where your lungs were.

“one more ladder. i promise,” she spoke, voice calm despite the alarm you spotted in her eyes. you crawled to the edge of the trap door. your hands found the railing. you managed to drag yourself down, to plant yourself on the concrete ground. katniss landed seconds after you, her arm wrapping around your middle. she helped you to the nearest unoccupied wall, the two of you collapsing together.

“i’m so sorry,” she wailed. “there was no plan. coin didn’t send me to kill snow. i killed them. i killed them all — finnick — oh god, i’m so sorry, pollux.”

“we knew,” you gritted out, vision growing black around the edges. “we all knew you were lying. we made the decision to come with you.”

you blacked out seconds later, the blood loss finally getting to you as your adrenaline dissipated.

you awoke late the next day to a quiet shuffling about. your shoulder was still painful, but it was a bit less excruciating now, and your head was absolutely killing you. you sat yourself up slowly, letting the blood flow slowly move through you as you situated yourself. you found that you were the only person remaining in the hidden bunker, soft chatter carrying through the open hatch.

“hello?” you called, voice croaky and hoarse. all movement on the higher floor stopped, heavy shoes trekking over top of you until cressida’s mop of blonde hair sunk over the edge. she looked relieved to see you awake, in all your undressed glory.

your top half had been undressed to your undergarments, a thick layer of gauze holding pressure to your wound, your skin prickling as cold air wafted over it.

“morning, sunshine,” she breathed, a bit more relief in her tone than you were comfortable with. gunfire sounded in the distance, hardly loud enough to touch the underground bunker, but loud enough to alarm cressida. “shit.”

“katniss is out there, isn’t she?” you asked meekly, an unsettling dread weighing on your stomach like a boulder. the blonde gave a nod, worrying her lip between her teeth. her head disappeared and her feet appeared, scaling down the ladder to join you in your underground prison.

“she and gale went together, disguised themselves as refugees. they were hoping to infiltrate the manor, but it sounds like the rebels got there first.”

you sighed as you settled back onto your makeshift cot, wincing as the uncomfortable floor brushed your shoulder the wrong way. cressida shook her head with a faint smile, touching her fingers to the white bandaging.

“you’re lucky you’re even alive, sunshine. we almost lost you. the blood loss got to you before i had a chance to let you decide how much of your clothes i cut off,” she mused, her eyes alight with pain.

“i’m sorry about messalla,” you croaked. “i know you guys were close. castor too.”

“don’t worry about them. it wasn’t your fault. we knew what we were getting into. we were all willing to die for this cause. we made this choice.”

you let out a sigh, eyelids growing heavy. “i’m falling asleep again,” you muttered. you were out before you’d had a chance to hear her response.

district twelve was quaint as ever. the seam was in shambles, the merchant square in scarcely better shape. you’d finally been given permission to return home following correspondence with katniss and haymitch, gifted a spare room in katniss’s home. you knew she needed the company. lord knows how suffocating it must be in that vacant manor, without her mother, without prim.

“i missed you, kat,” you sighed as she finally wrapped you in the embrace you’d missed painfully. she let out a chuckle, the first authentic laugh you’d heard from her since the seventy-fourth games.

“missed you too, sunshine. let’s get inside,” she breathed, cupping your face as she released you from her gentle grasp. she smiled at you, and it was different this time. there was something different shining in her eyes — something different from the way gale looked at her, from the way haymitch looked at effie, from the way finnick looked at annie. there was something different, but something so similar.

“let’s go home.”

the great war was over.

the great war was over, and with the end had come peace. you still held the scars as a reminder, as most of panem did. you held them in your heart, in your mind, in the skin of your shoulder. katniss held them too, in the occasional wheezing, the tormenting nightmares, the fragments of her heart.

“your scars are healing nicely,” she murmured, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a soft smile lingering on her full lips. you gave a weak smile, tracing the raised, grotesque bite marks spotting your bare shoulder.

she was right. they were healing nicely. but they were a reminder, of finnick, of castor, of messalla, the leegs, primrose, boggs, holmes, jackson. they were a reminder of all those you’d lost, all the lives taken in the great rebellion. they were a reminder of johanna, finnick, annie. a reminder of cruelty and unnecessary bloodshed.

“i wish the inside ones would heal too,” you hummed, tugging a loose shirt over your head. katniss heaved a great sigh, past memories reflected in her granite eyes.

“i do too, sunshine.”

her hand found yours, and your faces found the sun, and your bodies finally found the relaxation they’d craved for generations.

all was at peace.

the peace lingered until the dreams came. they were suffocating, torturous, unbearable. katniss had them worse than you ever would, but she’d never vocalize that. she’d never belittle your suffering because hers was greater.

instead, she’d crawl into your bed, wrap her thin arms around your waist, cradle you until the crying stopped. she usually hadn’t gotten to sleep yet anyways.

your bed had become hers. she spent more time curled around you than settled in her own sheets. it was reminiscent of your days in district thirteen, of the bunk beds and the grey clothing. it was different now, though.

the hesitation in her movements had gone, along with the hefty wall she’d used to guard her inner workings. it was all gone, and she was revealed to you, unraveled before your eyes like some sacred scroll only you had access to.

“remind me why i let you sleep in my bed, again,” you mused late one night, your fingers stroking her cheekbone, your eyes unable to leave the sun kissed skin of her round face. she chuckled, rolled her eyes, tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“because you love me.” a pause. “and i love you.”

you captured her lips in a chaste kiss, rested your forehead against hers, took a deep breath.

“i love it when you say that.”

“then i’ll keep saying it, every single day until you grow tired of it. and then i’ll keep saying it, every single day until i can no longer speak.” her nose brushed yours, her breath fanning over your face, her lips just barely brushing yours as she spoke.

“that sounds like a long time.” she kissed you, firmer, longer, until she couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think, until you could no longer distinguish where your skin ended and her skin started.

“i’m hoping for forever.”

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 7 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 7 Summary: The case is progressing more quickly than expected, presenting the first opportunity to set the bait for the narcos. When plans for the undercover operation go awry, you have to think and act fast. Meanwhile, whatever is going on between you and Javi gets kicked into high gear.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), boss!Marcus, slowburn, workplace romance, ohh the yearning, fake relationship, protective!Javi, Dom/sub dynamic, precisely (1) spank, almost caught, please just fuck already

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 8k

Author’s Note:  I am SO happy to finally post this! I’ve been sick with back-to-back viruses ever since November, so I’ve been slowly chipping away at this chapter. It’s super plotty and a lil smutty, but I had to kick Javi and Reader in the ass to move this shit along somehow. I have so many thots and ideas for these two, especially when we get to see more of Marcus. As always, a HUGE thank you to my dear, sweet, lovely beta @kilamonster, who lets me torture her endlessly with all the dirty things that come to mind and for correcting my atrocious Spanish. 💋💜

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

The Next Morning   Washington, D.C.

There’s a knock at Marcus’ office door and a grinning man pokes his head inside. He’s got a slight build, and sandy hair that falls across his forehead in natural waves. You had always told Marcus this agent reminded you of that weaselly guy in Dirty Dancing, Neil, and he can certainly see it now. Though the resemblance was probably more down to personality than looks.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" The man asks, waiting for permission to enter. 

"Yeah, Wilkins, come in – and shut the door.” Wilkins has to halt midway to turn around and close the door and is looking a bit less confident now as he sits down in the chair across from Pike.

Pike fixes the smaller man with a neutral expression. He'll give Wilkins a chance to be honest and forthright, but he’s not going to beat around the bush. 

"Did you receive a call from a DEA agent about helping them with a potential art money laundering case?" 

Wilkins' eyes grow wide for a second, and he stumbles a bit over his next words. "Uh, I'm not sure, maybe?"

"Maybe?" The fewer words Marcus gives Wilkins to work with, the more he'll have to come up with himself, and the less he’ll be able to turn Marcus’ words back around on him – a common interrogation technique.

"I remember a call from somebody at the DEA, but I don't think I recall the specifics." Wilkins fidgets with his tie.

Marcus keeps his face neutral, but laces his fingers together on his desk and leans forward, closing the space between them. "What do you recall?" 

"He might have mentioned some drug dealers." Wilkins, a man with an ego the size of Nationals Park, has already been reduced to a little boy getting in trouble at school. 

"Being that he's DEA, that would make sense." Pike says blandly, waiting for Wilkins to continue. 

"Yeah. And... there might have been some talk about art." Wilkins’ voice is small, tentative. He knows he’s been caught out, and it’s no small matter.

"That's interesting. And why do you think this DEA agent called us – the FBI art squad – about art?" 

Wilkins doesn't say anything in response. He knows there's nothing else he could say in his defense at this point. 

"Do you know who that DEA agent was, Wilkins?" 

Wilkins juts his chin out defiantly. "No, Sir."

"You might, if you'd bothered to get his name." Wilkins has grown sullen, already tired of the tongue lashing. 

Pike has no patience for this guy’s attitude. Normally, Marcus wouldn’t draw out disciplinary issues like this, on the rare occasions he has them with his crew. But this guy has pissed him off too many times. 

"That was Special Agent Javier Peña. You might have heard of him, made the news awhile back." Marcus leans back in his chair, watches Wilkins’ petulant shrug.

"He put away Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, remember them?" Wilkins doesn’t respond, but there’s recognition in his eyes. "So when Javier fucking Peña calls to ask for help, that's probably when you should tell your superior.” 

Marcus pauses, waiting for Wilkins to say something, anything, but he just sits there.

“Do you agree?" Marcus prompts, each word punctuated.

"Yes, Sir." The man replies, his tone clipped. 

"Glad to hear it." 

"Is that all?" Wilkins stands, and Marcus fights the urge to stand as well. But there’s power in showing you’re confident enough to not rely on being physically overbearing. 

"No, I'll tell you when that's all. There have been some rumors floating around the office for a while now.” Finally, what Marcus has wanted to confront Wilkins about for months. 

“I tried to ignore them, thinking it was just some office gossip, but then one of our best liaisons at Customs fast-tracked a transfer.” Marcus has to take a breath, the lead ball in his stomach growing heavy. “Some of that office gossip was about her. Know anything about that, Wilkins?"

"No, Sir." Wilkins shifts from foot to foot, glancing around the office nervously. Marcus lets him squirm for a bit longer. 

"That's good. Because if you did know something about who was spreading those harmful rumors – rumors that affect the lives and careers of federal agents who outperform you on any given day – we’d be having a very different conversation." 

Wilkins stands rigid, eyes wide.

"That's all." Marcus turns back to his computer and without giving Wilkins another glance. 

______________________________________________________________

That Afternoon Texas

The briefing went off without a hitch. You could feel Javier's smile on you from the other side of the briefing room while you talked through each of the slides. Your stomach was in your throat, but Javier's presence gave you the bit of confidence you needed every time you glanced his way. 

The other agents ask questions you and Javi had anticipated and discussed thoroughly the day before, and even a few you didn’t prepare for. Once you answer their questions flawlessly, Javier dismisses the group to their respective assignments. Several of them shake your hand on their way out. 

Javi stands back and watches the crowd file out, then saunters over to you. You’re beaming a smile at him and fight the urge to throw your arms around him in a grateful embrace. 

“That was…” You shake your head in disbelief, eyes as wide as your smile.

“‘Amazing.’ You can say it.” He’s smiling in return and leans a slim hip against the table, crossing his arms. 

“It was amazing! God, that felt good.” Adrenaline pumps through your limbs in a rush.

“You did a great job today.” 

“Thanks, I had a lot of help.” You start to gather the briefing materials and Javi jumps in, working his way around the opposite side of the table. You meet on the other side, where he adds the stack from your hands to his own.

“Not as much as you think.” Javier tucks the stack of briefings under his arm and gives you a friendly wink. Friendly, yet it still manages to set those butterflies flitting again. You haven’t felt this moony over a guy in…well, awhile. 

The rest of the day goes by like a blur. Javier introduces you to the two agents he’s assigning to report directly to you for the duration of the case – Diaz and Tran – and the three of you get to work immediately. The first thing you do is get in touch with the closest ports of entry to see what high-priced artwork may have crossed in or out of the country within the past few months.  

You lose yourself in piles of customs reports, flagging anything that catches your eye, and before you know it, Javier appears at your desk, knocking on the wall of your cubicle. Blinking, you’re surprised to see that the office has emptied out. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you see that it’s past seven o’clock on your computer screen. “Jesus, no wonder I was starting to go cross-eyed.”

You start putting the reports away in your bag, intending to look at them some more at home. The excitement and buzz of the day is fading, and the fatigue finally starts setting in. 

"Want to grab a drink?" Javier has his jacket over his arm, a hand casually in his pocket. 

"Can I take a rain check?" You feel bad saying no, because you actually would like to have a drink with Javi. 

“Are you going to keep working at home?”

“That was the plan,” you admit sheepishly.

“Then, no.”

“‘No,’ what?” 

“No rain check. Let’s go – there will be plenty more to do tomorrow. I had to learn that the hard way.” Javier reaches over and takes your bag. 

You let out a long-suffering sigh for dramatic effect and shut down your computer. As you join Javier, he splays a broad hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the elevator. You barely have a chance to register the warmth of his hand before it drops, leaving pleasant tingles in its wake. 

The silence between you is born from that day’s weariness, yet it feels comfortable. Javi takes you to the same bar as before, and you grab the same table in the back while he orders you each a beer. A server brings a couple of glasses of water over as well, which you find a sensible choice, given how tired you feel already. 

Javier settles back in his chair with a groan and starts taking off his tie. As he stretches his long neck, you try not to stare, but those freckles and prominent veins hold your gaze. He takes a long pull from his bottle of beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Tearing your eyes away, you focus on the rings of condensation your beer bottles have left on the table and try to think of anything to talk about. Before you can think of something, Javier speaks up. 

“I got a call today.” He’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, peeling it back. His knee bounces under the table, jiggling close enough that you can feel the edge of his pant leg against yours.

When he doesn’t continue, you prompt him with a soft, “Oh?” and take a swig of your beer.��

“It was the FBI art squad getting back to me.” 

You pause before swallowing, determined to play this cool. “About time.” 

“Yeah, the guy was really apologetic. He said they could assign a couple of people to help us with whatever we need.” Javier finishes pulling the label off his bottle, all in one piece. 

“That’s great!” You hope Javi can hear the genuine enthusiasm you feel in your voice. “My contact said they’d help, but wasn’t sure what they could do.”

“I spoke to the agent in charge, Pike. Do you know him?” He keeps his large, brown eyes on you as he takes another sip of beer. 

Schooling your features, you dare yourself to meet his gaze. “I do, yeah.”

“Have you worked with him before?” Javier tilts his head a fraction, watching you.

“That case I finished before transferring, he and I worked on that together.”

“Closely?”

“What are you trying to get at?” You counter, putting your beer down harder than you intended, your hackles starting to rise.

“Nothing.” Javier shakes his head and looks down at his beer, but you can see a hint of a smirk appearing under his mustache.

Huffing, you slouch and take a sip of your beer, then cross your arms, feeling a little like a child. “Yes.”

“Hmm?” Javi looks up at you through his lashes. Those damned eyes of his. He could bring entire cartels to their knees with those eyes. 

“Yes, he’s the person I had a… thing with.” You cross one leg over the other, bouncing it peevishly.

“Sounds complicated,” Javier remarks, not unkindly. 

You shrug, as though to say it was nothing. As though the time you spent with Marcus didn’t mean anything to you, and wasn’t the healthiest relationship you’d ever been in, even if it didn’t have the label society demanded. You’re embarrassed to feel the sting of tears in your eyes and turn your face away from Javi before he can see.

“I understand complicated,” Javi says, his soft words a balm to soothe your injured heart. 

The beers are finished in contemplative silence. Both of you take plaintive sips of water, mindful of the drives ahead and the weariness you’re each already fighting. 

Neither of you seem to mind that the space between you is shrinking, or that your legs rest gently against each other’s under the table. Neither of you flinch or pull away when the backs of your hands wrapped around your water glasses touch. When Javi’s thumb grazes your knuckles, you only look at him, but his face stays turned down determinedly. 

You move your thumb against his in a soothing repetition. Slowly, but without hesitation, Javi takes your hand in his, linking your fingers, and you give a gentle squeeze. Your breath slows, the noise of the bar fades, and the tension in your muscles unwinds as you inhale and exhale in time with Javi. 

Without a word, without a glance, Javi pulls you to your feet and begins to lead you out of the bar. 

It’s completely dark now, but the goosebumps erupting across your arms aren’t from any chill in the air. Holding tight to Javi’s hand, you follow swiftly behind him. He lengthens his stride, shoulders back and jaw set. 

About half a block from your office building, Javier pulls you around a corner and onto a darkened side street. You let him lead you without thinking, completely trusting him. But before you can blink, he’s got you pressed up against the wall of a building, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your waist. Instinctively, your hands grip onto the lapels of his jacket to not lose your balance. 

Everything Javier does is purposeful, focused, intentional – he is not a man to lose complete control of himself, especially when he feels out of control. With his face mere inches from yours, and the faint scent of beer on his breath, he speaks. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

Javi’s tongue pokes out and licks his plump bottom lip. The cool stone of the building at your back is a welcome relief from the heat pooling in your lower belly. 

“W-what?” A glance at his eyes, black from the shadows around you, makes your knees shake. 

“If you don’t want this, tell me now.” The hand on the back of your head gently eases down to cup your face, and Javi caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“Please,” he pleads in a whisper, his lips a hair’s breadth from your own. “Before I do something I’ll regret.” 

“Don’t…” Your breath shakes. 

A sigh from Javi’s lips is warm on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Javi nods and begins pulling away. You tighten your grip on his jacket, holding him in place. 

“I mean - don’t stop.” 

Javi’s smile changes his entire face, and the tension in his shoulders eases. 

“Cariño,” he murmurs, resting your foreheads together and nudging your nose with the tip of his. 

Before Javi can do more than brush his lips against yours, a small group of people pass by on the sidewalk a few feet away. This close to the office, it’s very possible they work in the same building – might have even come from the same bar. Fortunately, Javier reacts quickly. He shifts your bodies and tucks your head into his chest, blocking the light from the nearby street lamp – and their view of you – entirely.

Their chattering ceases abruptly as they spot your forms in the shadows, one letting out a quiet, “Whoops,” under his breath. Another sniggers, and they continue on their way. You think you hear one of them whisper Peña a bit too loudly and get shushed by their companions.

Javier holds you there a few more moments, your bodies molded to one another in the dark. Stilling your pounding heart, you breathe in his scent and run your hands around his back, underneath his suit jacket. The muscles of his back are firm under your hands. He presses his face to the top of your head and wraps his arms around you in return. For a while, you stay there together, breathing in sync and savoring this stolen moment.

Eventually, Javier starts to pull away, and you reluctantly let go. He leans in, and tenderly places a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and your ear. Softly, he says, “Come on, cariño, I’ll walk you back to your car.” 

Holding hands again, your pace is much slower this time. There seems to be an understanding that what you just experienced was too close a call. Still, neither of you are in any hurry for this to end, whatever it is. 

At your car, Javier stands back with his hands in his pockets while you open the door and toss your bag inside. 

“Get home safe, cariño.” 

“You too, Javi.” 

In your mirror, you see him give a small wave as you drive away.

~*~*~*~

It was stupid to ask you to grab a drink after work. Javier doesn't really understand what motivated him to ask you in the first place. 

That’s a lie – he knows exactly why he asked you, why he asked you about Pike, why he dragged you out of that bar. You're on his mind all the time now, to the point of distraction. Javier sees you when he closes his eyes, pictures you lying next to him when he’s going to sleep, tries to imagine the feel of your skin, soft on his fingertips. The only relief he feels is when he's with you in the flesh. 

It’s selfish of him, he realizes, to want these things from you. You haven’t said much about what happened in D.C., but it was enough for him to understand that he can’t put you in that position again. People are cruel, especially to women. 

With a heaving sigh, Javier rolls over in bed. Even if he can’t allow himself to act on his desires, he can let go a little in his mind. For a moment, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of having you, fueled by the memories of your fingers laced with his, the heat from your back where he placed a gently guiding hand, the scent of your shampoo when he kissed your face. 

Javier imagines what it would feel like, being able to touch and feel you in those natural ways people together do: your arms wrapped around his chest and kissing the back of his neck and shoulders, the weight of you seated on his lap, caressing all of your lines and curves. All the things he could do with you, just because you’re his. 

______________________________________________________________

Five Days Later Texas

You’ve never seen a case get off the ground and progress so quickly. In the last few days, the DEA managed to bring in the art gallery couple suspected of planning a money laundering deal with the narcos under investigation. Not only did the couple admit to their plan, but they agreed to cooperate with the investigation in exchange for immunity. 

The gallery was hosting a special exhibit opening that night, and the narcos – Castano and Lopez – were confirmed guests. The timing was perfect to introduce Peña and another agent, Bateman, who would be posing undercover as business partners in competition with the art gallery owners. But that meant their task force had to act fast to get everything organized and ready in time.

Surveillance had been placed on Castano and Lopez, and the agents tailing them were sending in frequent reports on the men’s movements. They had already arranged transportation to get them to the gallery event after dining at an expensive restaurant nearby. Their dirty money certainly didn’t stop them from enjoying a lavish lifestyle. 

You check over the information on the tablet in your hands. Posing as an event coordinator gave you access to all areas of the gallery, service entrances, back rooms, the whole shebang. It also gave you the ability to watch a live video feed of all the cameras placed around the gallery, right from your tablet, and listen in on the audio through the wires Peña and Bateman would be wearing. 

A few other agents were staged as caterers, wait staff, and private security detail for the special event, but this evening would only have one mission: get the narcos interested in finding out what Peña and his “business partner” could offer. He and Bateman were already out on the gallery floor, mingling with the crowd, and looking at the art. 

Javi was wearing a dark blue suit, fitting snugly to his broad shoulders and tapering in at his slim waist. He’d obviously taken extra time grooming himself that evening, because he had some kind of pomade in his hair that added a sleek wave, and his mustache was neatly trimmed. It was criminal how fucking good he looked.

Surveillance checks in to report an ETA of approximately 10 minutes. Letting out a deep breath, you tap out a message on your tablet with the ETA and send it to Javi’s phone. Through your earpiece, you hear Javi’s phone ding, a pause, and then his voice mutters, “Copy.” 

Things between you and Javier that week had been a bit tense, to say the least. The two of you orbited each other, coming close yet never touching before being slingshot back out in opposite directions. 

The memory of his arms around you and his lips ghosting across your mouth kept you warm each night. You continuously waffled back and forth between reprimanding yourself for even thinking about indulging in another workplace fling, and craving him like a drug. It was maddening. 

Diaz’s voice in your ear says, “Targets have arrived, entering now.” You message Javi, and he confirms he has eyes on them. He and Bateman continue circulating a bit, keeping an eye on Castano and Lopez, but blending with the crowd for now. Things are right on track. 

Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a deep breath and lean against a wall in the back corridor. The coolness of the wall reminds you of the cool stone against your skin in that alleyway. You let the radio chatter in your earpiece fade as you remember the heat from Javi’s hands, the strength of his arms and chest, the smile on his lips when you told him ‘don’t stop.’ Heat pools in your lower belly, imagining what could have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You hear Javi’s voice in your ear and your eyes fly open. A few taps on your tablet and you’re watching video from a nearby camera. Bateman is gripping his abdomen and grimacing in pain. 

“Yeah, just this stomach ache. I’ve had it for days.” Bateman gestures to his lower right side. Something tells you that’s no mere stomach ache.

Quickly, yet calmly, you bustle over to their location and assume your best event coordinator voice. “Sir, is everything alright? Can I get you some water?” 

Bateman tries to wave you off, but is interrupted as another wave of pain hits him and he doubles over. Javi watches his partner and concern knits his brow. 

“Boss, the targets are headed in your direction, I think they’re trying to check out what’s going on,” Tran’s falsetto says over the radio. 

You lay a hand on Bateman’s shoulder, lowering your voice to say, “We need to get him out of here.”

You put your arm around Bateman’s hunched shoulders and say loudly enough for some of the looky-loos to hear you, “Everything’s alright, Sir. Please come with me.” You give a meaningful look to Javi and gesture for him to come with you.

The gallery owners have a small office in the back that’s part of a larger storage area with a loading dock for larger works of art. You take Bateman and Javi back to the office, passing through the swarm of catering staff, who have been using the storage room as their staging area. Pulling out one of the office chairs, you guide Bateman to sit. Diaz bursts into the small room, dressed in the typical black attire of private security, worry etched across his face. 

“Nick? Talk to me – what’s happening?” Diaz’s voice is a bit tremulous, but he takes charge and gets on the radio to report an agent down. You’ve seen how close Diaz and Bateman are at the office and wonder if there’s something more between them than friendship.

Javi catches your eye and nods his head to the side, indicating for you to both exit the office. Following him a bit down the hallway, you step close to his side to escape the bustle of caterers with trays of hors d'oeuvres. 

“What’s happening?” Javi wipes a hand over his mustache and flicks a finger at your tablet. 

He leans over to look at your screen and you swipe through several views until you spot Castano sipping on champagne and Lopez looking bored. The latter was the one, if memory serves, who made the comment about modern art being just a bunch of splattered paint. 

The scent of Javi’s cologne and his closeness make your hands tremble. You haven’t been this close to him since he almost kissed you. In fact, his face was near enough to your own that you could easily turn your head and place your lips to the side of his neck or shoulder. Your head swims at the thought.

Hazarding a glance up, you see out of the corner of your eye that Javi isn’t looking at your tablet anymore either. His chest rises and falls, brushing your arm with every inhale. Those dark chocolate eyes are nearly black, his pupils wide and intense. Seconds tick by that could be minutes, both of your bodies frozen in place. 

Movement on the screen in your hands catches your attention and breaks the reverie. You can’t let yourself be distracted by whatever is happening between you and Javi. Not now, on this big of a case – your first opportunity to really prove that you’re capable on your own, and not someone who fucks their way up the ranks. 

Javi takes half a step back, and you clamp your teeth down on your lower lip to stifle a sigh at your loss. How the hell are you supposed to focus with all of these feelings and urges flying through your body? 

Clearing his throat, Javi rasps, “I better get back out there.”

You nod your head in agreement. “Yeah. That’s good, I’ll - uh, check on Bateman.” Javi moves to leave but pauses. 

“You’re doing great,” he whispers next to your ear, his touch on your lower back light as a feather before slipping off back into the crowded gallery. You fight the urge to run after him and shift your focus back to Bateman. Stepping back into the office, Diaz is already on the radio, arranging transportation for the two of them to the hospital. 

“I think it’s his appendix,” Diaz says to you quietly when you walk over. 

You grimace. Shit.

Bateman was chosen to be Javi’s partner in this operation because he could carry a conversation about art and make it convincing. Javi – to use his own words again – doesn’t know shit about art. 

Looking down at your tablet, you tap through the various video feeds and see that the narcos are in the same section of the gallery as Javier. Switching the channel on your earpiece, you listen in on the audio feed coming from his wire. 

You’re not sure if Javi is genuinely distressed over Bateman’s condition, or if he’s acting it up to try and draw the attention of the narcos, but you can hear his labored breathing from his wire. Could he be nervous? You select the video feed with the best vantage and see Javi rubbing the back of his neck and fiddling with his tie. 

With Javi’s breathing in your ear, you make up your mind. You can’t let him finish this alone. 

“Diaz, you got this?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Transport will be here in less than five minutes.” 

You’re already setting down your tablet and removing the curlicue wire from behind your ear. 

“Good. Report in once you get him seen to.” Diaz nods, but watches you curiously. 

Next goes your blazer and the clip holding your hair back. You grab your purse and find the red lipstick, quickly applying a fresh coat to your lips.

“Well, how do I look? Can I pass as a shady art dealer’s girlfriend?” You step back and smooth down the dress you were wearing under the blazer. 

You don’t have many occasions to wear the black cocktail dress, but for tonight you needed something more stylish than your regular work clothes. Its V-neckline is relatively modest, but the smooth material clings to your curves in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

Diaz gives you a once over and says, “With all due respect, Boss…you look hot.” 

“Thanks,” you fluff your hair a bit, using your reflection in the office’s window. “Bateman, take it easy. We’ve got this.” Bateman groans in response and you rush out the door. 

You’re flying blind now – no eyes or ears on anything but what’s in front of you. Tran spots you and cocks her head quizzically, but otherwise doesn’t break her cover as she approaches you with a tray of champagne flutes. 

Grabbing a glass, you mutter, “Bateman is down, I had to do something.” She nods and quirks an amused lip. 

“I like your dress,” she mutters back. You toss back the rest of the champagne in your glass for courage, and Tran hands you another to take its place. 

“Thanks, so does Diaz.” Tran snorts and pivots to offer champagne to a cluster of guests nearby. 

The three of you gelled almost immediately, and you felt immensely grateful. Their support on the case made you feel at ease with being in charge of a team. You wonder if Javi assigned Diaz and Tran on purpose, thinking you’d all suit one another.

Javier, Castano, and Lopez are still in the same gallery space, admiring adjacent pieces. Well, Lopez is digging a finger into his ear, but at least Castano seems genuinely interested. 

Seemingly more relaxed now, Javi stands with his back slightly to you, leaving his body language open to the targets. But you already know him better than the casual observer. The veins in Javi’s neck are more prominent, and you tamp down the urge to lick them. He’s practically vibrating like a plucked wire, but his shoulders are relaxed, one hand casually in his pocket. Fuck, he looks good in that suit. 

Taking a deep breath, you decide you’ll just have to go for it. It’s just for tonight, after all. 

“Babe!” A few people turn their heads to look at you, including the three men you needed to take notice. 

You shuffle over on your tiptoes to not break an ankle in your heels, and Javi – to his credit – doesn’t react beyond a shift in his eyes and a twitch of his jaw.

“Oh, my god! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, babe.” You practically throw yourself at Javi and cling to his side. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other hand coming out of his pocket to lightly grasp your bare arm.

“I saw poor Nicky – he didn’t look so good,” you say, placing your free hand on Javi’s chest and adding a touch of real concern to your voice. 

Javier’s entire demeanor shifts with you in his arms, his body relaxes, immediately falling into lockstep with you. You’re impressed at how quickly he responds to this curveball. Neither of you could have prepared for something like this.

“Yeah, he decided to head home, probably just ate something bad.” Javi took everything in stride. “You’re feeling okay, right?” He pulls back a bit to take you in, like he’s checking you over for bumps and bruises.

“Yeah, baby, I’m okay. But…” you drop your voice to a stage whisper, aware that at least Lopez is paying attention to this little charade. “What about the you-know-what?”

Javi glances around like he’s worried somebody might hear you. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. He wasn’t moving it until next week anyway.” Javi kisses your temple. You nod, seemingly pacified, and offer your glass to him. 

He smirks, and instead of taking it from your hand, he leans down and places his lips to the rim. You let out a little giggle and tilt the glass for him. A little dribbles over the side of his mouth, dripping off his mustache. Letting out a mock tutting sound, you wipe it away with your thumb and lick the remnants from your skin. 

Your eyes meet, and you melt a bit, seeing that Javi’s pupils are completely blown.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” you tease, managing to regain composure. 

“I know exactly where you can take me,” he fires back, and – to your utter shock and private enjoyment – squeezes your ass. 

“Babe!” You gasp, and hit him playfully on the arm. Looking around nervously, you notice Lopez staring lasciviously at this public display, and you still, clearing your throat. Javi notices, and follows your gaze to Lopez, who is now adjusting his pants by his gaudy belt buckle.

“Hey - qué pasa contigo?” Javi’s face morphs into something serious and intimidating.

The two men exchange some words in rapid Spanish, and Castano gets involved. You’re genuinely flummoxed, not understanding what the men are saying, but it’s clear Castano is trying to apologize for Lopez’s rudeness and making amends. 

You tug at Javi’s arm to pull him back to you, running a soothing hand over his chest. “Come on, baby. It’s fine.” 

“I want an apology,” Javi says, stubbornly. 

“Lo siento, Señor,” Lopez mutters, and Javi shakes his head. 

“An apology to her,” he clarifies, his eyes boring holes into Lopez’s forehead. 

Lopez repeats himself, but can’t meet your eyes. Castano steps forward and reaches out a hand. Without thinking, you place your hand in his, and he holds it between his own. You know what this man before you is capable of, what he’s suspected and guilty of, and you fight the urge to shudder. 

“Miss, I am so sorry for my associate’s bad manners,” Castano begins in lightly accented English. “When a woman as beautiful as you is nearby, any man would take notice.” 

Pretending to be flattered and appeased, you dip your head. Castano – a slim man of equal height – bends at the waist formally and brushes dry lips to your knuckles. You turn a disgusted curl of your lip into a demure smile. 

“Thank you,” you simper. 

Javi says something to Castano in Spanish, and the two begin to converse, their tone much more pleasant now with formalities out of the way. He drops his arm from your waist and joins Castano at the painting he’d been admiring.

You catch Lopez’s eye and let the corner of your mouth tilt up as you take a sip of your champagne, now warm and flat. The man – squat, with a thick unibrow under a greasy forehead – is the kind of fish you want to keep on the hook for a while. It lets them think they’re winning. 

“Cariño,” Javi says and beckons you to join the men. 

Sauntering over, you let the high heels do their job and smile sweetly up at him. The conforming dress rises up your thighs a bit higher than you’d be comfortable with in real life, but you decide to leave the hem where it rests when you see Javi’s eyes rake over your exposed skin. The hair on your arms stands up, and the heat in your core begins to rise. 

“Señor Castano has a question about this piece, and I told him you were the brains between us,” he winks, and your breath hitches. 

Over the next ten minutes, you speak knowledgeably about the art on exhibit in the gallery. You’d never felt more grateful for the times Marcus would get excited about a case or piece of evidence and animatedly answer your questions while sharing takeout from one of your regular haunts. There’s a sudden pang in your chest. 

Just as suddenly, Javi is right behind you, stroking the backs of his fingers up and down a bare arm. His left hand is on your hip, caressing his thumb over the thin fabric of your dress. You relax into his touch, melting back into him until you feel the swell of your ass meet the front of his pants. 

Javi sucks in a sharp breath, and his fingers on your hip tighten their grip. You’re trying to focus on Castano’s words, but you feel Javi’s breath shudder a bit as he makes the smallest of movements with his hips, pressing himself into your ass. 

“...and that’s why we’re here tonight, drinking champagne, admiring the works of art on display… and speaking with beautiful women,” Castano finishes. The smile on his face would be genuinely charming if you didn’t already know what a deplorable human being he is. 

“Mi amor loves talking about art, I only wish I knew more. She and my partner could talk all night about our latest deals–” Javi stops himself short, pretending that he’s let something slip.

Castano’s eyes go sharp, but his smile barely changes. Showing a bit of intelligence, even Lopez perks up at this false faux pas. You’re surprised he was even listening, he’s been so busy shoveling canapes into his mouth and ogling the other women nearby.

“Ah, so you are art dealers then!” Castano exclaims. “Little wonder Señorita is so knowledgeable.”

You move your left hand to caress Javi’s on your hip. Not sure if Castano thinks you and Javi are married, or he’s just being polite, you’d rather play it safe and leave your ring fingers out of his sight until you and Javi can speak privately. 

“My partner is really the art dealer, it’s a shame you couldn’t meet him tonight. I’m just another man of business.” 

“And what line of business are you in, Señor?” Castano asks.

“Please, call me Javi,” he says with a casual wave of his free hand. “And I’m in whatever line of business is good – I’ve done a bit of this, a bit of that. Here, have my card.”

Javi fishes out the prop business card from the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I represent my client’s business interests, whatever they may be.” 

Castano takes the card and glances it over, then hands it to Lopez to hold. “And your clients are interested in art?”

“Some are. That’s how I met mi alma. She was working at the private gallery my new partner owns.” Javi stands next to you, keeping his fingers locked with yours on your hip, and smiles down at you. 

You have to remind yourself that none of this is real, it’s all for the cover – and a last-minute cover, at that. None of this was supposed to happen. But standing there, basking in the warmth of Javi’s affection, your heart races a bit and you give him a genuine smile in return.

“And the rest is history,” you finish with a small shrug of your shoulder, then rest your head on Javi’s shoulder for a second. Lopez’s phone rings and he turns away to answer it quietly, then taps Castano on the shoulder deferentially.

“Well, Javi, Señorita,” Castano nods at each of you in turn. “I would love to treat you to dinner soon. I have a new case of vintage bordeaux and a new painting I’m looking for any excuse to show off. I’ll have my associate call to make the arrangements. Please, bring your business partner.” 

Javi nods and shakes Castano’s hand. The two men leave, and you see Lopez stuff a napkin full of food into his suit pocket. Castano rolls his eyes in exasperation and glides away to the front exit. 

Javi gives your waist a squeeze, and you turn to face him, smiles on both of your faces. You hover for a minute, just in case the men return, but then Tran comes by with another tray of champagne. 

“May I take your glass, ma’am?” Javi takes the glass from your hand and sets it gently on the tray. He busies himself by taking another so Tran can murmur, “They’re off the premises, tracking in place.” 

Javi nods and sips the champagne. Tran moves away once more. A couple beats pass, and Javi sets the champagne down on a nearby cocktail table, grips your hand tightly, and starts pulling you in the direction of the back office. 

This time you struggle more to keep up with him, not in your usual office attire. Javi is pulling at his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. In the back storage area, Javi drops your hand and makes a beeline into the small office. 

You slow almost to a stop, a bit winded from practically jogging in heels. Javi turns and meets your eye. Seeing the intensity in his face, you pause before the threshold and worry flits across your mind. 

Maybe Javi’s actually upset with you for going rogue, for jumping in and messing with the plan. Maybe he’s just really good undercover, and you projected your own desires onto his smiles and touches. He silently crooks two fingers, bidding you to join him in the office. 

Steeling your spine, preparing for a fight, you pull your shoulders back and strut into the office. Closing the door behind you, you take a breath, ready to go toe-to-toe with Javi if that’s what it takes to prove you were in the right. 

You made an executive decision in what could have been a crisis, and you’ll stand by that judgment call. You did what a good leader is supposed to do when plans go south. Everything worked out with the narcos, and even if they don’t take the bait and call, you still have tracking and surveillance on them.

Javi remains silent, finishes unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his freckled skin underneath. He removes the wire taped to his chest, then sets it down on the desk and switches off the receiver. You open your mouth, prepared to state your defense.

In two strides, Javi closes the distance between you and takes your mouth in a crushing kiss. You throw your arms around his neck and his hands grip the backs of your bare thighs, lifting you effortlessly and setting you onto the desk. 

Deepening the kiss, Javi’s tongue plunders your mouth and he lets out a strangled grunt when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against your panty-clad pussy. Groaning, you feel his cock quickly getting hard and you soon realize you were already wet before he even started kissing you. 

Javi kisses a searing trail across your jaw, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tender flesh under your ear as he nips at the lobe. You gasp and rut against the front of his pants. 

“You are – fucking – incredible,” Javi growls in your ear, grinding his straining cock against the damp spot on your panties for emphasis. Your breathing is shallow, and you cling to his broad back as he continues his way down your neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he adds, then gently sinks his teeth into the flesh between your neck and shoulder, eliciting a small whimper from your lips. 

Letting your head loll to the side, willing him to take whatever he desires, you whisper, “Javi, please…” 

You can feel his mustache turn up as he smiles, his path across your clavicle interrupted. 

“‘Please’, what, cariño?” His wide hands roam up the expanse of your back, then down to massage the meat of your hips and ass. You rock yourself against his cock again, but he holds your hips still and pulls back to look into your wrecked face, lifting an eyebrow in question. 

“Fuck, Javi–” You rebel against the grip of his hands, trying to feel that pressure from his hard cock again, but he stops you. He mimics your tut-tut from earlier out in the gallery, and pulls his hips away from yours. You lock your ankles behind him, trying in vain to keep him in place. 

Javi smacks a hand against the flesh of your ass that’s still covered by your dress, which luckily muffles the sound. Your mouth pops open in surprise, and you look at him. The intensity in his face has returned, but there’s no malice in his eyes, just hunger. Without a word exchanged, you unhook your ankles from behind his waist and let your legs spread open. 

Javi lets out a satisfied moan from deep in his chest. “Mm, somebody trained you well, cariño.” 

You let out a shuddering breath and Javi leans in to capture your bottom lip between his, sucking it between his teeth before letting it go with a soft pop. You nod, just barely, and wait for him to continue. 

“I bet I can guess who it was,” he teases, then his tone changes. “Stand up and turn around. Palms on the desk.” 

Javi pulls away and walks the two steps to the door, never looking away as he watches you follow his command. Your dress is now hitched up onto your hips, your ass presented to him. 

Before he can lock the door, a tentative knock on the other side makes both of you jump. You immediately straighten up and pull your dress down, while Javi checks through the blinds in the door’s window. 

“Tran,” he mouths. 

You try to smooth your hair down and Javi opens the door and quickly turns away, busying himself with the wire and receiver on the desk, as though he’d just turned it off. 

Clearing her throat, Tran stands in the doorway, not meeting your eye and says, “Boss, Diaz just reported in. Bateman is getting an emergency appendectomy, but he should be fine. They got him to the ER before it got too bad.” 

Both you and Javi let out sighs of relief. “Thanks, Tran. We’ll debrief in the morning.” 

Tran glances between you and Javi, and gives you a sly smile. “Sure thing, Boss. Have a good night.” She winks and closes the office door behind her. You’ll have to deal with that later.

“Fuck me,” you sigh and sink down in the office chair. All the adrenaline of the evening was starting to make your legs shaky. Javi sits a hip on the corner of the desk in a way that reminds you of Pike. 

“That’s kind of what I was trying to do,” he tosses his head at the door. “Before we got interrupted.” 

“It was very rude,” you agree, both of you sharing a smirk before going quiet. 

“Listen,” Javi swipes a thumb at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know if this is a good idea–” You put a hand on his knee to stop him.

“But it’s what I want. And you obviously want it too,” you look pointedly at his crotch, where his aroused state is still quite evident, despite the interruption. 

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he states emphatically. “It’s just…” He sighs and places his hand over yours. “I recognize what a huge deal this case is for you, for professional and personal reasons.” 

Javi pulls you to stand and cups your face. “I couldn’t live with myself if I fucked that up for you.” 

You sigh, and think for a moment. 

“Javi, no offense, but that’s bullshit.” 

“What?” He pulls back in surprise.

“First, you’re giving yourself way too much credit,” you chuckle to break the tension, then grow serious. “Secondly, I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices. If anything gets fucked up, it’s because I made a decision, so I’ll deal with the consequences.” 

Javi takes a deep breath, evaluating your words. You can see that he doesn’t like the idea of what those consequences may be, nor the thought of you being the one to deal with them. 

He swears under his breath in Spanish, looking to the heavens for help, then leans in and kisses you. Gently at first, then more persistently, holding your face until you’re both breathing heavily through your noses. He breaks the kiss and you both take a deep breath.

“Okay, ‘grown ass woman,’” he says, and you let out a small laugh. “I’ve got a choice for you to make.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” 

“Your place or mine?”

Chapter 8 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

[sanjisboyfie]

๑ keep safe : wings that made [name] fly (19)

one piece x male reader

and i said, "do you wanna dance?

do you wanna dance? do you wanna dance, 

dance at the back of the hall?" 

『 prev 』

tw: gore, very brutal (but not too descriptive) torture...i think that's it 

[name] walked away from the fight, the dagger of kosuke’s still gripped in his hand. his hand was dripping from blood, as was the weapon, but it wasn’t [name]’s. a whole mess had been made on the street.

buildings had blood splattered on them, the dirt beneath [name]’s feet was seeping with the liquid, pools of it surrounding him. but none of it was [name]’s.

in his other hand, he held the decapitated head of kosuke by his hair.

“what a troublesome guy,” [name] sighed, looking at the head and throwing it into an alleyway, “put me off from chasing after vivi, the bastard.”

for a moment, [name] debated going into the alleyway and kicking the skull of the head in, just to release his frustration. but he decided against it since it’d only be a bigger waste of time.

20 minutes before — after kosuke had broken the news to [name], he was confident he’d have been able to use that to his advantage.

and his eyes were gleaming at the opportunity, [name] standing completely still — obviously out of it — making himseld to be the perfect target. plus the bastard still had his dagger in his hands so kosuke was eager to finish this interaction off quickly  

“now die and meet him in hell!!”

he equipped himself with his rifle and had his finger already on the trigger, a second away from setting it off. but he stopped when he suddenly felt wind breeze past his cheek. and [name] disappeared from his sights.

“what a shit joke that was,” [name] said in a dry voice, eyes darkened as he glared at kosuke from the corner of his eye. “look what you’ve done, you’d just lost yourself a leg.”

in a second, the body collapsed onto the ground and kosuke was shrieking in pain. where his left leg was supposed to be was completely missing. blood pooled beneath his body, staining his clothing and face. he was still screaming in pain.

“what’s your deal with wanting to disable yourself? losing an eye and ear first, now a leg. you’ve got to get better at this shit, kosuke,” [name] said, mercilessly stepping on the thigh, right above the cut off.

“he’s dead! he’s dead, i saw him!! the sand swallowed him up and even before that his body was completely dried up!” kosuke shouted with all his energy, “crocodile ended him!”

[name] sighed, simply not believing it. he felt angry the first time kosuke broke the news to him, but then he thought rationally. there’d be no way luffy would die, not when he had to become king of pirates anyway. but he was still angry over the fact kosuke said something as outrageous as that.

“before i kill you,” [name] said, sitting down next to kosuke’s writhing body. with a wave of his hand and pushing the air forward, the body of his past colleague lifted into the air and was pressed against the stone building behind him. cracks formed in the building behind his body.

[name] looked onward with a bored expression, keeping his palm outstretched to keep him in place.

“what’s this killing squad you speak of? who’s running it?” [name] asked, ignoring the cries of the man in front of him. “who else is apart of it?”

“oh, it’s all familiar faces, trust me,” kosuke said with a grin, spitting out blood and making it splatter across [name]’s face. “everyone misses you, [name], if you’d just come back-”

[name] rolled his eyes, getting tired of the soon-to-be dead man’s rambling, “like i give a shit.”

“you underestimate us. what we can do,” kosuke’s eyes glinted, a smirk on his lips, “you think we’re stupid?! i figured it out just now, that necklace you have on is the key to it all, isn’t it? once the others put two and two together, it’ll be free game in capturing you. it’s only a matter of time!”

“shut the hell up,” [name] sighed, putting one of his fingers down. “i’m losing my patience! just answer the original question, dumbass!”

the motion made kosuke’s left arm bend backwards, effectively breaking the bone and making it peak out of the flesh. another shout of pain, beggings for mercy were heard, but all ignored.

“it’s obviously the fucking world government, who else would be wanting you dead so badly?!”

“i got an idea…but thanks for confirming it’s not them,” [name] drawled, looking at the dagger in interest, “did smoker tell you then? that i was in alabasta?”

kosuke’s eyebrows furrowed, “no, it was crocodile, he’s still apart of the government to some extent,” more blood was spat out of his mouth and onto [name], which made the man grit his teeth in annoyance.

“so the warlords are in on it?”

“they're not supposed to be — but crocodile has his way of getting information i suppose, the scummy bastard. if he has information, the other 6 probably do as well…”

he swiped the blood away from his face, “what do they plan on doing if they catch me?”

“killing you, of course! once you’re dead, they’ll be able to properly regain back that body of yours — it’s more important than your actual life,” kosuke replied.

“hm, that pissed me off,” [name] hummed in thought, lowering another finger and breaking another one of kosuke’s limbs. “actually, i’m bored now…” he lowered all of his fingers, but one and grinned as he saw the man’s eye roll to the back of his head.

his middle finger was proudly being shown off to kosuke.

“we’re…gonna get you,” kosuke breathed out, seemingly spending all of his energy on his last words, “if it’s not me, it’s gonna be one of the others,”

“yeah, i hope they’re stronger than you because this shit is pathetic, i can’t lie,” [name] sighed, resting his chin on his palm as he looked at kosuke’s deformed figure.

“and you know, if we don’t catch you, we’re gonna catch that shit crew you’re sailing with,” kosuke smirked, knowing that that would hit [name]’s nerve, “we know everything about them, if we can’t get to you, we’ll get them!! and when we do, they’ll be nothing but bloodied bodie-”

[name] slammed his fist into the ground, stood up, and cleanly cut off kosuke’s head. before the government dog could even finish his sentence, his head was flying off.

“fucker didn’t stand a chance, hehe,” [name] sighed, picking up the head and tossing it up in the air several times, as if it were a ball.

he wiped the blood off of his face, gritting his teeth as he saw that it had gotten all over his clothes as well, “he made more of a mess than i'd thought. talking all that shit and he can’t even properly fight back,”

back to present — [name] was running to the palace, taking care of anyone that got in his way by slicing them down (not actually killing them, just hitting them hard with the sheathe of his sword). when he reached the square, it was all basically a dust cloud due to the aggressive attacks from both the royal and rebel army.

“ah, there’s [name]!!”

he stopped in his tracks, whipping his head around every which way to find out who it was that yelled for him. when he caught sight of a familiar head of orange hair, his face brightened up instantly.

but as he ran towards them, he began hearing their screams.

“who the hell is that murderer?!”

“he’s got blood all over him!! quick, usopp deal with him!”

“hell no! i’m all bandaged up, i can’t even move!!”

[name]’s eyes turned from showing happiness to anger and annoyance, “quit yelling your heads off, it’s just me!!”

“[name], it’s so good to know that you’re alright,” vivi said, hesitantly walking over to him. the amount of blood covering his person seemed to concern all of them. the princess thought it was his whilst the other three (chopper, usopp, and nami) all thought it was just terrifying.

“it’s not mine, don’t worry,” he said gently, waving his hand.

“that’s even more worrying!!” usopp and nami shouted in fear, tears going down their cheeks, “who the hell did you have to fight?!”

“some guy, don’t worry about it,” [name] said, shaking his head, “but what’s going on? what did i miss? where’s crocodile?”

remembering what kosuke had said about luffy being killed, [name] wanted to give the warlord a beating himself. he knew luffy wasn’t dead, there’s no way he’d go down so easily. but to think of how badly crocodile had probably injured him was enough to make his blood boil.

“crocodile…he’s,” vivi took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself so she could speak clearly, “no! that’s not what we need to worry about right now!”

[name] blinked in surprise at the sudden outburst, “what?”

“we were all about to split up, there’s a cannoneer who is looking to blow up the entire plaza as well as anything in a 5km radius! zoro and sanji went ahead, we need to move now!” nami shouted in urgency, making [name]’s expression turn into one of shock.

”5km radius?! we’re all gonna die!!” he screamed out, hands squishing his cheeks in shock.

nami and usopp hit him down on the head, “that’s our line!!!”

“what are we going to do?!”

“search for it, obviously, let’s go!!” nami shouted, grabbing [name] by his longer hair and tugging him harshly to come with her, “you need to carry me, i can’t run!”

“liar!” usopp and chopper said, but were surprised to see [name] obediently get on his knees and show her his back to climb on.

“hurry up,” he commanded, easily taking her weight on his back and running forward, “how much time do we have?!”

“only 10 minutes, now go!” she commanded and pointed forward.

he grunted, holding onto her legs tightly as he ran forward. the others followed running in other directions, as well.

“if they’re shooting a cannon to target the whole square, they’re probably high up!” he shouted to nami over his shoulder, “look up, nami! and scan the buildings!”

“alright, just keep running! and try running more smoothly!” she scolded, making him glare at her.

”you should run then if you have such a problem with this!!” he shot back, looking ahead and at any of the buildings.

he tried finding any that were holding anyone inside of them, but all he found were abandoned buildings.

“[name], there’s someone chasing us!!” nami shouted, holding onto his neck tightly.

“can’t you take care of them, i’m occupied!” [name] said in annoyance, but as she tightened her arms’ grip on his neck he was forced to act on her command or else she’d choke the life out of him. “fucks’ sake!!”

he skidded to a stop, turning around and slicing them with the dagger on his hip. nami shouted at his aggressive movement, but he didn’t pay her any mind. the grip he had on her thigh tightened to make sure she didn’t fall, but other than that, he was efficient enough in just using one hand.

“get them, [name], get them!!!” she shouted in support, punching her fists in the air.

he was going to scold her for not even helping during their battle, but decided to bite his tongue. in a matter of seconds, he took care of them, anyway.

“did you really not see any buildings, nami?” he asked, running ahead and leaving the defeated men behind.

“if i did, i would’ve told you by now!!” she replied back in frustration, hitting him several times on the head, “idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!!” each time the word left her lips, she had hit him.

“you can’t be serious!! stop hitting me!!”

the two were bickering. [name] running at a consistent pace as he tired to cover as much ground as possible. the minutes were ticking by and they were beginning to get restless.

”hold on,” he said to nami, making her tighten her hold on him. he jumped up, using his hands to claw into the sides of the buildings and scaled them upwards. she was screeching in his ear the entire time, almost choking him to the point of him passing out, but thankfully — they were able to reach a roof of the building before that happened.

“now from this view, it should be easier to find something,” he said, running on the roof and jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

he cursed in annoyance as nothing was catching his eye. they only had a couple of minutes left. out of nowhere, a red flare was shot into the air and made them whip their heads around.

“usopp! go there, he must’ve found it!!”

[name] complied easily and rushed forward to go back to where the flare was shot from. they rejoined with vivi, chopper, and usopp, with [name] still holding nami as they talked in a circle of what they found.

“you’re sure its there?” [name] asked, looking at the clock to see how many minutes they had left and also in wonderment on if vivi’s assumption was correct.

she had come to the conclusion that the only place the cannon could be hidden would be the clock tower. both for how big it was and also because of how it overlooked the square perfectly.

“then we need to get up there right now!” [name] said, looking around in search of their two other missing crewmates, “where are those idiots?!”

“hah?! who are you calling an idiot?!” sanji said, poking his head out of the second story of the building.

“did you really call me an idiot?! grouping me together with that stupid cook!?” zoro said in aggravation.

[name] ignored their cries, trying to think of how they’d be able to get up there in time. and his face brightened up the moment he conjured a good enough plan.

“usopp, chopper, vivi, stand on top of each other, now!” he shouted, urgent in getting them to the top of the building, “nami, use that new clima stick,”

“it’s called clima takt!!” usopp and nami shouted out for their own pride.

“whatever it is! use it to generate a wind going up!” [name] pushed everyone in position, getting on top of chopper’s back and staying behind vivi. “sanji, zoro, please tell me you have half a brain to understand what i’m insinuating!!”

“it’s a shit idea!” zoro cried out at the top.

“it’s the only one we can work with!!” [name] shot back, looking to nami and nodding his head, “no time to waste let’s go,”

she gulped and nodded, following his orders and setting loose a direct wind stream to go underneath them and boost them upwards. usopp cried out, for whatever reason, and they were all being launched into the air.

sanji had jumped in time with them, kicking them up to zoro with his right leg. [name] held onto chopper for dear life, not expecting the kick to have that much power.

when he saw zoro prepared to send them flying upwards with his swords, he shouted, “put your back into it, idiot swordsman!!”

“don’t call me that, bastard!” zoro cursed, crossing his swords over one another and sending the three of them into the air.

from there, [name] grabbed ahold of vivi and allowed chopper to grasp onto the both of them with his large hands. the two were sent launched up into the air, [name] having his eyes trained in on the cannon that was hidden in the tower.

he pushed vivi forward, seeing as she was prepared to deal with the baroque workers inside. and he ignored their cries and instead focused on the fuse that was burning closer and closer to the cannon.

he flicked the top of his water jug open and quickly directed a splash of water to end the fuse, sighing in relief when he saw that the flame died down. just as he and vivi were about to rejoice and announce to the rest of the crew that they had stopped the bomb, there was a ticking noise that could be heard.

he stilled where he stood, his eyes scanning the room from where it could be coming from before he realized it was coming from inside of the cannon.

”you’re fucking with me…” he breathed out as he and vivi walked around the front of the cannon.

and right in front of them was the gigantic cannon that was strapped with a timed device. the fact they went through all that effort to get the cannon to stop itself from setting off meant nothing.

vivi was already crying beside him. and he pushed back the urge to comfort her, too busy trying to think of how they could stop the bomb from going off.

the only choice was something completely self-sacrificial.

but it seemed a ray of hope had shined down on them.

standing at the circular opening of the clock tower was pell, a guardian of alabasta. he smiled at vivi to ease her worries and just as he was about to turn into his devil fruit, a falcon, [name] stepped in front of him.

“you’ll die,” he said to the guard, moving ahead of him and picking up the bomb with his bare hands. “let’s go together, i’ll ensure we survive,”

“no, no, no!!” vivi cried out, slamming her hands into both [name] and pell’s chests, “there has to be another way!!”

[name] and pell moved in silence, the guardian accepting his offer wordlessly. the look of seriousness in [name]'s eyes was something he couldn't ignore. the guard watched as [name] picked the bomb up with his hands, supporting it with his shoulder over his head. then he transformed using his devil fruit, grunting when he felt the immense weight come onto his shoulders.

and with one final smile and wave to vivi, [name] and pell flew into the cloudy sky.

“y’know, i’ve always wanted to fly,” [name] said, breaking the silence. “what’s your name?”

“pell.” was the simple, quick reply.

[name] looked at the square below him, a smile on his face as he felt the wind beating into his skin. everything became so quiet so fast.

“so this is what it’s like to fly,” he said to himself. then he looked to the sky and stared at the sun with squinted eyes, “would you look at that, huh? the wings you gave me really did work!!”

pell looked up at [name] from the corner of his eye, wondering what on earth he was talking about. but then his eyes widened and the flapping of his wings almost stilled when he saw what [name] was doing.

the bomb was set to explode any second. and [name] was standing tall and upright on pell’s shoulders, balancing the bomb on his back.

“sorry, pell,” [name] breathed out, “but…i’ll just assume you’ll thank me later,”

the guard looked at [name] in confusion before water was splashed on his face. in an instant, his wings turned into his regular arms, his face formed back to the humanoid features, and his body began to shift into his normal form.

“i was gonna use that on crocodile,” [name] said, pocketing the clear tube of salt water, “but luffy’s got that taken care of,”

“what are you doing?!” pell desperately tried wiping the water off from his face and transforming back into a falcon, but it seemed that none of his efforts were working.

“no time to waste explaining, see you!!” [name] grinned, using geppo to get farther and farther away from the guard.

an unfamiliar humming rang in pell’s ears and it almost had him in a trance.

it was a soothing song. he had only heard it for a couple of brief seconds before the sound was immediately overtaken by the earth shattering sound of the bomb going off.

pell covered his eyes at the bright explosion before he stiffened up in trying to find [name]’s body.

right before the explosion, [name] had gotten as high up as he could. and he saw that the timer was just about done, only two seconds left, and with all the strength he could muster he had thrown it into the air.

“sorry,” he said to the sun once more, a sheepish grin on his face, “close your eyes or else it might hurt your vision,” he spoke to the sun, his arms outstretched as he welcomed the feeling of falling.

the tattoo on his back, of the wings expanding across his entire shoulders, looked as if they were outstretched. they looked like wings that were making him fly.

_

[ .ᐟ ] this chapters song is "you" by the 1975 and the song used in the last chapter was "me" by the 1975 woww the connections are being made 

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taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! + PLEASE LMK IF I FORGOT TO ADD U AND U REQUESTED TO BE ADDED) <3 :

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @haratatsu, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami, @disc0dild0s, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @kaulitzer

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

levi drabble? no. 12 please <3 ooh but flip the tables, its levi saying it or dont- okay i cannot decide-

I LOVE THIS???????

also i hope i characterized him okay enough lol. i'm writing this at work in between clients soooo

come torture me with this drabble challenge!

#12: "i wish you wanted me"

Want | Canonverse Fluff Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, captain!reader, mutual pining, this accidentally turned into a oneshot lol

"Captain? Captain, your orders?"

The scout's voice seemed muffled. All of Levi's senses seemed muffled. His gaze was only fixated on one side of the forest, desperately trying to pick up any visual or auditory cues.

"Captain?"

Levi finally got dragged back into reality with that third prompt from his subordinate. Having been fixated on only one thing, anything discussed within the past 5 minutes had been completely disregarded.

"What?"

"Your orders? There are Titans approaching from the left and right flanks," the scout said nervously.

It wasn't like Levi to be this scatter-brained. He always knew what it was that he had to do and he most certainly never missed out on vital information that was being told directly to him. He was overly distracted and it was affecting his ability on the field.

You were currently fighting on the left flank. Another newer squad was fighting on the right. He knew which side he had to go to for reinforcements.

He desperately wanted to go to yours. He wanted to make sure you were safe. He knew it wasn't anything other than a foolish, selfish emotional whim. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself and your squad. Strategically, he had to go to the right flank to maximize their chances of survival.

After clearing out the Titans, the Survey Corps formed a small fortified camp to rest and patch up any wounded before continuing the expedition.

You were currently in front of a campfire with your cloak and uniform jacket thrown off to the side. The only thing you kept wearing was the tank top that was usually underneath your uniform. The only reason for this was to expose your right bicep, which had gotten deeply scratched during your battle fending off the Titans. You had spent the last hour having Levi patch it up after he noticed you struggling to do it on your own.

He was awkwardly quiet the entire time, as if something was deeply on his mind.

"Did your squad do any better?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He grunted. "Not really, but at least no one died."

Simply being able to come out of an expedition without anyone dying was a miracle. Although no one on your squad died either, it was primarily because you had to go in multiple times to save them yourself. It probably would've been more efficient if you went in alone.

"You should really re-evaluate your squad," Levi said bluntly.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you scowled at him.

"Don't be so arrogant," you scolded. "Not everyone has the advantage of your bloodline."

"Tch," he responded in irritation. Every single time someone attributed his capabilities to his Ackerman heritage made him want to punch something.

"It's not that," he said, matching your tone. "My squad doesn't need me to constantly risk my own ass to save them."

You rolled your eyes.

"Well, good for you, Levi. I'm glad that you're satisfied with your subordinates," you said dryly. "Can you quit being dissatisfied with mine?"

He let your arm go and set the bandages off to the side, irritated by your unexpected commentary.

"I'm not joking around, _____. You shouldn't have to be constantly risking your life out there because of your subordinate's mistakes."

You groaned and slightly pushed him away now that he was no longer treating your arm.

"Why the hell do you even care so much?"

Deep down, you knew. Deep down, he knew. It was quite a while ago, but you both could recall a time in which you two were dancing around the concept of romantic feelings for each other.

Of course, it never progressed to anything. It wasn't appropriate and you didn't want to start a scandal. He was still your superior at the time.

Levi parted his lips to speak, but it took a few seconds for any words to come out.

"I can't stop thinking about you when you're on the field," he said quietly. "And it's a pain in the ass to not be able to focus."

You blinked at him, confused as to where he was going with his comments.

"Why?" you asked. "Am I doing something wrong? I'm not your subordinate anymore, remember?"

He exhaled in almost what seemed like a defeated fashion as he looked away.

"I just," he said with his voice barely audible, pausing as if he was unsure if he should mutter the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"I wish you wanted me."

Your eyes widened as those deeply buried thoughts and feelings were brought to the surface. You had assumed that he had moved on. After all, it has been some time that you had been promoted to a Captain yourself, yet it was never brought up.

You looked down and shuffled a bit, adjusting your position to be a bit more comfortable.

Finally, you looked up at him, seeing that he was now glancing at you too.

"Who says I don't?" you said quietly before shooting him a small smile.

You saw a sight that you never thought you'd see.

Levi Ackerman was paralyzed. He looked like he couldn't move. He looked like even if you reached out and pushed him off the seat that he'd remain unmoving.

Levi was not expecting your response. He had continuously told himself that you weren't interested and that anything resembling a confession would be a waste of time and would only bring him shame. He wasn't expecting anything good to come out of it.

"I'd be lying if I said that I never thought about how much I want you to want me too," you said, shifting a bit closer to him, placing your hand on his.

Feeling your touch oriented him back to reality as he looked into your eyes. He didn't know how to process this. He had held onto that feeling of rejection, telling himself that he never wanted to feel that way again and that he wouldn't put himself in that position again.

He never expected anything good to come out of those words that he had muttered—but it did, giving him something new, fresh, and hopeful to hold onto.

A/N: this is the pouty face i imagine him making as he says the line ;aljf;alksdf he's so cute i can't

[pink-november]

Slay the Princess Endings poorly summarized

warning big spoilers ahead

A New And Unending Dawn

you and the squad kill your gorgeous, divine, irreplaceable other half, the goddess of change and growth, containing death in her multitudes and everything that gives meaning to life and existence, in an attempt to birth a new reality where she doesn't exist any longer to prevent the heat death of the universe or something and definitely not because you got distracted of the philosophical debate you just had with her prior to going to her heart and especially not because you're a Narrator simp (Narrator route when????) or something, noooo sir. atleast you and the gang have each other, right? time heals all wounds after all, even one as irreversible as this.

Leave as Gods Ending

you awake as your greater self, cosmic wings spanning far and wide and shattering the construct you and her are trapped in. she tells you she loves you and though violence and conflict color your dance, you are now together for all eternity. a thousand sunsets and sunrises welcome you, worlds are born anew and worlds are torn asunder as you travel from reality to reality, universes blooming and dying, hand in many many many lovable hands, never to part as you continue the cycle that the Echo sought to tear apart due to His own hubris. you and her, forever.

Leave the Cabin Together

there is nothing but the two of you, once more at the beginning of everything, godhood a terrifying concept to grasp, everything that was once unknowable reduced to the shapes The Narrator gave and nurtured through the trials and pain and happiness you experienced throughout your journey. it is okay. she will be with you. uncertainty fills you both but your love triumphs still and you join hands once again, shadows of your former selves, lesser but enough, ready to face the future… together.

Loop Ending

you and the best boi ever (and other best boi if done right) take the pristine blade ready to confront the Princess once again but oh shit you don't wanna be alone again or become gods because the people outside the construct would just continue to suffer either way fucking hell who gave the birb of stasis and epitome of passiveness the capacity to make reality-altering choices and expect a good thing out of it??? gf seems to disagree with the sentiment (bless her kind and loving heart) and continues to accept everything about you and suggest another option: go back to the beginning, do everything all over again before you knew the truth, and trust that you might make the same choice once more if you find yourselves back here. seems reasonable. you confess to each other before the princess stabs you again and-

You're on a path in the woods-

Oblivion Ending

you deny and deny and deny and deny and deny, your rejection of your Other here hurts her more than any other routes you could have done. you starve your Other of her potential, shrinking yourself in the process of this endeavor. your Other is betrayed in such a way you cannot fathom yet and probably never will, do you even understand the magnitude of the pain you inflicted on her? can you even still? you are bliss. you are agony. there are no wrong decisions, only fresh perspectives. you are bliss. you are agony. you left her to wither. you are bliss. you are agony. hollowness fills the space that is once you, becomes you, and continues to be you. you are empty. you made the wrong choice. you are nothing. you are oblivion. you are together. you exist.

A New And Unending Dawn and Everything about this ending is fucking horrible it physically pains me inside to hear the littol guys be so angry and throwing curses at me. paranoid calling me torturer hurts my kokoro fuck fuck fuck nooooooo -100000/10 ending tbh you just killed your wonderful eldritch gf for this new reality and all your voices fucking hates you??? The Narrator isn't even here to tell you did a good job for doing what He wanted cuz you obliterated Him during your ascent to godhood *sighs* good fucking luck XP

[staycalmandhugaclone]

You'll Have to Go Through Me Pt 5

Part 5 of You'll Have to Go Through Me, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

It's come to my attention that my previous attempts at tagging through this arc were wildly unsuccessful. Here's to hoping it works this way, but, for those of you who are just learning about this arc, at least you have plenty to enjoy! (my bad, guys)

Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, reference to torture/gore, reference to murder/assassination, profanity

WC: 4,150

Waking from sedation isn’t the same as waking from sleep. There’s a long moment in which your body is awake – you can see and hear and recognize the world around you, but you aren’t really there. I felt the rumble of subtle snores vibrating against my cheek as I stared blindly toward the empty bunks across from us without granting them a moment’s thought as to why they were empty, vaguely noting how Wrecker held me tightly to his chest with his back resting against the rear wall of his bunk, that his head had tilted forward so his lips still just touched my temple.

My entire body shifted with each lazy rise and fall of his deep breaths as I listened to a distant, rhythmic hum that sounded nothing like the Marauder’s engine, and I remembered counting him through slowing his breaths, willing some trace of calm into him. That felt like months ago… maybe it had been months…

Thoughts drifted through my mind absent intent as that memory led to the first time I’d guided him through that simple exercise in the hopes of lulling him into a quiet that would let me work the tension from his muscles. I thought about those precious seconds that eased Hunter from that agony tearing through his head and the tears Echo shed in the quiet isolation of the storage room as he felt touch offered for the simple comfort it could bring void of expectation or necessity. I remembered how Tech had needed his datapad to distract himself initially, but then grew so relaxed that he managed to fall asleep in my arms. I remembered the note of surprise breaking through Crosshair’s rage as I pushed the inflammation from his injured hand, how long it had taken for him to finally begin relaxing into that gentle trance as I worked over each knuckle…

The sickening pop of wrenching those fingers from their sockets.

My chest jerked with a tiny gasp, eyes going wide as my body tensed, forcefully swallowing back the sudden rush of nausea from that wretched memory. I tried to keep myself still, reluctant to risk jarring the man behind me from his sleep even as the violent surge of panic left me shaking. He hadn’t noticed yet, unhurried breaths still dancing lazily through him.

Movements carefully mediated, I guided first one massive arm away from me, and then the other before slowly easing myself to my feet, tense sigh flowing past pursed lips upon finding no signs that Wrecker had noticed. I didn’t know how to feel upon waking in his arms, nor was I prepared yet to discuss why I’d needed such comfort at all, still mortified that, of all the members of the squad, it had been him to see the monstrous scene left in the wake of my desperation. That was something I couldn’t avoid for long, but I was eager to delay it for at least a short while more.

The ship was unnaturally still, and it didn’t take long to realize that the distant humming was ocean waves rather than the Marauder’s engines. I tread quietly toward the medbay to confirm that Echo was also gone, and dread pierced my chest. Had he been awake last night? Did he hear what I’d said? Maker, I hoped not… I didn’t want to risk him feeling even a whisper of guilt over what I’d done to save him…

Moving quickly passed Wrecker once more, I ducked into the main cabin and was surprised to note that most of the others’ armor had been left behind. Hunter and Tech had taken only their lower gear, while Echo didn’t bother even with that. Crosshair, however, took not only his full kit of armor, but his rifle as well…

Beyond the open ramp lay a blanket of tawny sand dappled beneath flickering shadows of palms dancing overhead. I could feel the ocean breeze, could taste the salt weighing down the damp air, and I wanted to let myself imagine what it might be like to be granted the freedom to enjoy the paradise awaiting me just outside the metal walls, to relish its beauty in the company of this incredible family free of impending horrors and inescapable regret that clung to every impossible step forward in this wretched war.

I wanted to hear Wrecker’s laugh and savor Hunter’s smile. I wanted to listen to the wonder in Tech’s voice as he spoke of the intricate secrets hidden beneath the waves. I wanted Echo to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s light. I wanted to watch Crosshair nap in the shade without fear of what dangers might lurk within the trees. As I began walking down that ramp, however, I knew I’d find none of those precious moments awaiting me in the deceptive beauty of this hidden land.

The crystalline sands were just hot enough to nearly burn my bare feet as I sunk a few inches in just that first step. Impatiently, I reached down to pull up the fabric about my ankles so the abrasive grit wouldn’t get trapped between the cloth and my skin but found myself wincing at the attempt to use my right hand. My jaw tensed at the memory of why that pain emphasized even subtle movements, and I forced myself to finish the task regardless, almost spiteful of the way that memory made my heart twist within my chest.

Arms wrapping around my waist, I glanced down to look over the collection of footsteps disturbing the wind-kissed grounds. While there was a clear trail leading away from the distant roar of waves, the path going slightly downhill was far more heavily traveled. Gently sloping dunes dusted with tall grasses that swayed elegantly in the winds obscured the ocean I found myself repeatedly assuming to be just over the next ridge, but it was several minutes before I saw anything beyond the picturesque landscape.

The instant we saw each other, Hunter went just as stiff as I did, wide eyes carefully studying me as though he’d come across some feral animal rather than the friend who’d held him when his headaches got bad, the squad member who’d spilt blood and tears to keep them safe, and a cruel whisper churned like poison in the back of my mind that maybe he was right to find himself so on edge around me.

He'd just crested a rather steep hill, wind lashing his hair about his face as he stared down at me, and I couldn’t help but loath the knowledge of what he was looking for, brows furrowing slightly as my hands tightened against the urge to turn and run, to flee before I could see those eyes tainted with pity or disgust from what I’d done, from what had done to me.

“Are… are you…” The words fell from his lips in an almost nervous whisper, and I found myself rebelling from the concern in his voice. I think I wanted him to be repelled by me, to justify my own self-revulsion even as I still couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

“Awake?” I offered in a mockery of the teasing lilt I once used so freely with him, and quickly looked away upon hearing how broken it sounded. “Yeah.” I added shortly. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Would we fall back into that rage-filled tension? Would he awkwardly strain for a gentleness that would never feel natural between us again? Or would he merely continue on silently as though neither of us had spoken at all?

When the hiss of falling sand voiced rushed movement before me, I looked up in surprise to find him quickly moving forward, heedless of how he stumbled and slid as the shifting ground latched around his feet with every step down the abrupt edge of the dune. There was no reservation to the urgency of his strides nor the heartbreak twisting his handsome face, and I couldn’t begin to react before his arms locked around me, wrenching me against his chest with a desperation that left me stunned.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed the strained words into my hair. “I…” A sharp breath escaped him in something too near a sob. “I’m sorry.” Finally, I remembered how to move, how to think as a relief so consuming it nearly broke me anew burst through my chest in a flurry of heat that sent tears clawing up my throat.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I whispered, tilting to press my cheek to his, lips nearly brushing against his ear. “What happened… It was a trap, Hunter. Nothing would have changed if I’d been with him from the start.” He shook his head, breath catching to voice some argument, but I didn’t wait for him to explain. Those soldiers had entered that room ready for a fight. If I’d been there, I probably would have been killed long before anyone even knew what was happening. Taking them by surprise was likely the only reason I’d been able to rescue Echo. “It wasn’t your fault.”

My hands slowly reached out, touch hesitant at first as it slipped over the nearly trembling muscles locked taut along the length of his back, his shoulders, before finally letting my fingers tangle into his hair, clinging to him with the full brunt of a need I’d forced myself to deny, that I’d buried and crushed beneath anger and fear and any other emotion that might let me hide from the agony of thinking I’d lost him forever, and he held me even tighter because of it. Still, I didn’t want him hurting beneath a guilt he didn’t deserve.

His shoulders crept forward, breath steadily losing its fleeting grasp of stability until he finally let his head fall, face nestling against my neck, and I wondered if he was listening to the too-quick beating of my heart, if he could smell the unshed tears burning my eyes. For a long while, he merely held me, and I shamelessly relished every passing second, fingers absently tracing meaningless lines atop his scalp.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.” When those hushed words fluttered over the sensitive skin just beneath my jaw, I couldn’t help but shiver as gooseflesh danced down my arms. Letting out a slow sigh, I shifted to press my lips to his brow.

“I think we both made some mistakes.” I murmured against him. “I shouldn’t have run off the instant we got to Kamino… and I shouldn’t have ignored your messages.” He let out a small scoff.

“Not like we were being very understanding of things.” He offered quietly, and a small chuckle shook through me.

“Probably should have done a better job breaking the news.” Hunter shook his head and, taking a final, deep breath, stepped back. I didn’t want to let him go, teeth quickly catching about my lip to force my arms back to my sides.

“It’s…” He glanced briefly away from me as he thought over his words. “It’s going to be hard… getting used to this.” He explained in something that almost sounded like a question, and I so nearly reached out for him all over again at the sorrow bleeding through the apology in his eyes. “But Wrecker’s right… you both deserve whatever happiness you can find.” I swallowed back the fresh surge of tears, swallowed back the words vying to be shouted from my lips telling him that he deserved that happiness, too… but that risked touching something I couldn’t let myself acknowledge, and I had to turn away from him to steel myself against the agony of forcing those thoughts into silence once more.

“Are… are Tech and Echo…” I started, both desperate for and loathing the need to offer us both some distraction.

“Yeah,” He murmured with the same resigned acceptable I felt sinking through my chest like ice. “They’re both on the beach.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he nodded over his shoulder, tongue absently slipping over his lips. “Tech’s been checking over Echo’s cybernetics practically since he woke up – hasn’t found any issues yet.” That, at least, granted me a relief I felt no need to hide, shoulders sinking in a rushed exhale.

“Good.” I breathed, but, when he offered nothing more, I couldn’t keep the note of guilt from my voice, “And…?” Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say his name, not when even that felt like it might rekindle the horrid tension between us, but Hunter didn’t hesitate.

“Cross went off on his own.” He looked past me, and I thought of the second trail that led away from the sound of crashing waves.

“‘Went off on his own’ to mope or to keep from shouting at everyone?” I asked, and my heart leapt at the earnest laugh that drew his lips into a grin.

“Might have been a bit of both.” There was a warning and an apology in those words, and I readily returned his smile with one of my own.

“Well, I’m either going to make it better or much, much worse.” I sighed. “Wish me luck.” Smirking, he reached out to let his hand trail down my hair before pulling away to let me leave.

“Hunter.” I called, freezing in my tracks after barely a handful of strides. He said nothing as I glanced back toward him, attention focused on me with that familiar attentiveness as he heard the sudden dread in my voice. “Don’t…” I started, stumbling over the effort to force myself to speak, to remember that fight and the nightmares it brought, “Don’t tell Echo…” His shoulders sank with understanding before giving a small nod, and I was so violently grateful that I didn’t have to explain what I meant. I didn’t want Echo to know what I’d done, nor how those actions had broken me, and I didn’t doubt that Hunter knew exactly why I was so eager to keep that knowledge from him.

“Thank you.” I whispered before continuing once more back toward the Marauder.

Wrecker’s snores still hummed steadily from within those metal walls as I continued past the ship deeper into the tropical forest garnishing the heart of the island. Brightly colored wings flashed between the dancing fronds, fleeing my presence with a chorus of offended cries. The air felt heavier the further I walked from the oceans, that luxurious breeze stifled by the trees, trapping the damp heat within their dancing canopy. Even the taste of salt faded beneath the oppressive humidity. This far from the beach, the sands steadily morphed into something more akin to soil, but I was still able to follow those tracks with little difficulty.

He didn’t move when I finally found him. His rifle lay forgotten at his feet, arms locked tightly across his chest as he leaned back against one of the swaying palms, body hidden by that darkened armor. Drawing a steadying breath, I stepped quietly toward him. Still, he wouldn’t look at me even as I leaned against that same tree, purposefully letting my shoulder gently bump against his.

“I’m sorry if I worried you.” I whispered, eyes turned blindly away from him. A silence hung between us, pressing me to say something more. “But I had to do it.” I continued, throat shifting uncomfortably over words I was still trying to force myself to believe. “We would have lost Echo if I hadn’t.”

“I didn’t know how to help you.” My gaze darted toward him, caught off-guard by the depth of remorse in those words he barely let himself whisper. The lower ridge of his helmet clicked against his chest plate, and I didn’t need to see him to know exactly how the muscles locked about his jaw, teeth grinding beneath the effort to force his voice steady. “You were…” His mic caught the slow breath he forced himself to release before he continued. “I had no karking idea what I was supposed to do.” His armor creaked from how tightly his hands clenched around his arms.

I wasn’t expected that. I’d half feared he was mad that Wrecker had comforted me through the night instead of him, or frustrated that I’d placed myself in such a dangerous position to save Echo… but this…

Movements hesitant, waiting for any sign of refusal, I stepped in front of him, hands tentatively reaching for his helm, but he made no effort to evade me as I gently eased it free. His brows were furrowed sharply above eyes glaring at the dirt beneath our feet. I set that delicately calibrated bucket down before reaching for him, hands whispering softly up the sharp line of his jaw as my thumbs danced lightly atop his cheeks.

“You did help me.” I murmured, but his frown only deepened. “You took care of me… You may not think that was important, but it was.” His shoulder tensed, and I could see the dismissal just pulling his lips into the beginnings of a scowl.

“Didn’t do a damn thing to keep you from breaking down last night.” He retorted, disdain dripping from every word.

“Yeah…” I breathed, that familiar guilt rekindling through my chest. “But there was nothing you could have done to stop that, Crosshair.” His scowl only deepened.

“Didn’t take Wrecker long to figure out how to help you.” That’s what I was expecting; the way he nearly snarled his brother’s name despite how clearly his anger was directed only toward himself.

“I didn’t come all the way out here looking for Wrecker.” I whispered, hands stilling against him in a silent plea, and I nearly sobbed when his eyes reluctantly met mine. I’d never seen him so full of doubt.

“I tortured him.” I whispered suddenly, and I told myself it was to break him free of the self-deprecating thoughts that tormented him, to rend myself open and reveal that raw, festering truth both as distraction and to alleviate those whispers of inferiority. This was something I hadn’t told his brothers, wouldn’t tell his brothers, and, as his attention darted fully to me, I knew he understood that.

“I broke his elbow so he couldn’t fight… and then I hit him… I hit him until he could barely speak…” My voice sounded… hollow, lips still frozen in that earlier smile though I was certain it looked wrong beneath the emptiness of my eyes. “Echo was trapped. I couldn’t get his scomp out of the terminal… He wouldn’t tell me how to get him out… so I broke his fingers… and then I shot them off.” There was an edge of horror darkening that gorgeous amber. He wasn’t horrified by what I’d done, but I wanted him to be. I wanted him to berate me for my monstrous actions so I wouldn’t be alone in my disgust, but I knew his horror was only for the way my own words ruined me.

“I broke him… and I got Echo free…” My voice dropped into a hoarse whisper, tears I’d barely noticed clawing up my throat finally slipping down my cheeks as I added, “And I killed him.”

Crosshair’s shoulders rocked beneath too-quick breaths, brows drawn together sharply enough to form a deep crease between them. My hands belatedly pulled away from him to return aimlessly to my sides.

“He’d already given up.” I whispered. “I’m a medic.” Finally, my voice broke. “I only wanted to help people.” His throat shifted stiffly, lips parting but unable to bring himself to speak. “The way he screamed…” My faltering breaths robbed those words of their clarity, but he understood, and whatever spell had held him still broke as his arms darted around me, clutching me against him for mere seconds before his hands frantically reached up to cradle my head, fingers burying themselves into my hair. His forehead pressed almost painfully against mine as he fought to steady himself before pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.

“Damn it.” The growled curse hissed through gritted teeth. “You should never have had to do that…” I stood unmoving before him, frozen by the rage in his voice despite knowing it wasn’t meant for me. “But you didn’t do a damn thing wrong!” He nearly snarled, straining to keep himself under control.

“I took an oath, Cross… and I-”

“Yeah, and I shot your damn brother, but you don’t blame me for it!” He snapped suddenly. The silence that followed forbade either of us from moving, from breathing. Neither had brought it up since that night. Whether that was because time simply hadn’t allowed it or due to some unspoken fear of what might happen if we breached that silence, I couldn’t bring myself to say, but he couldn’t take back those words regardless the regret that washed through him. They hung between us like poison; bombs waiting to see who might trigger the first explosion.

“That was different.” I listened to that vain effort to fight back the tension between us before even realizing I’d begun to speak.

“The only difference,” he argued quietly, “is that you knew why you were doing it… You knew that it would make a difference – that it would let you get Echo out of there.” That wretched darkness tainted the brilliant gold dancing through his eyes, and I wanted to sob at the sight of it. I remembered the emptiness he’d hid behind to mask the sorrow in his voice when he’d told me that it wasn’t his choice to become a sniper, that the choice was forced upon him purely due to the nature of his mutations.

“The only reason I had to pull that trigger… were orders from someone I’ve never met.” His hands fell away from me, and I had to fight to keep from reaching up in a desperate plea to keep him from pulling away.

“You’re right.” I said, almost shocked to hear the anger suddenly fueling my voice. His eyes widened in surprise before that heartbreaking resignation stole over him, as though he’d been awaiting this for days. “You had the choice to either follow that order or be chastised for failure. You had the choice to kill a soldier of the enemy army or risk whatever kriffed up punishment those damn long-necks have waiting for soldiers who refuse to thoughtlessly obey.”

Each word grew sharper, louder, emboldened with a rage all my own that he was placed into that position at all, and I was suddenly struck by the realization that we’d both been forced by circumstances beyond our control; that he was right in comparing how effortlessly I blamed myself with how adamantly I refused to blame him. That realization must have shown through in my expression because his eyes refocused intently on me.

I drew a slow, deep breath, gaze softening as I looked up at him. Without a word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He paused for only a beat before returning the embrace, hands slipping lightly over my shoulders.

“Thank you.” I breathed, and his touch instantly lost all hesitation. One hand slipped up my neck to again let his fingers tangle through my hair while the other wrapped around my lower back, locking me against him, the edges of his armor pressing unapologetically into me. “I really hate your armor sometimes.” I mumbled. He was quiet for a moment longer before letting a breathy chuckle escape him, and my heart leapt at the sound as he leaned over me.

“Can’t make it that easy for you to get me undressed.” He teased, lips dancing lightly atop my forehead.

“I haven’t gotten you undressed yet.” I reminded almost petulantly, brow hitching as I shifted just enough to glance up at him. He returned my glare with a quiet smirk that sent warmth fluttering through my chest.

The shrill chime of an incoming message drew a short sigh from him, attention reluctantly falling to his comm.

“Hunter’s asking if you found me. I’m tempted to say ‘no’, but apparently, he wants me to bring you back for lunch.” He droned in feigned annoyance, and I found myself biting back the threat of laughter as he tucked the comm away without replying. “Come on.” He muttered, stepping away to grab his rifle and helmet before looping his arm around my waist. “If we wait too long, he’ll come hunt us down himself.”

“Cross?” I called hesitantly after we’d begun walking back. His gaze shifted toward me, but I didn’t turn from the path stretching out before us. “Don’t tell Echo what I did.” I whispered the plea before glancing only briefly at him. His thumb brushed against my hip, fingers tightening so gently around me, I almost missed the comforting gesture as he continued forward in silence, but I didn’t doubt he understood.

Next Chapter

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[shippershipperyshippyship]

Enid Sinclair Werewolf Headcanons

Basic Understanding:

Strength: Enid is the physically strongest member of the squad (Bianca, Yoko, Xavier, Ajax, Eugene, Divina, and Wednesday) majority of the time she doesn’t get to show it as she has no interest in any form of fighting. Her muscles do expand a little more in her human body, more noticeable when she’s wearing sleeveless tops. She lands the designated jar opener of the group. Speed: While Yoko is still the fastest, Enid comes second (in human form.) She’s both a fast walker and fast runner - when she shares food with people, nobody sees how fast her swipes are from the bowl.   

Which is why sometimes she gets her own food bowl.

Endurance: Her athleticism is all thanks to both her love for moving and being a werewolf. Her cardio workouts have to be on the extreme end in order to make progress, like running in the woods in all fours for 5 hours straight instead of normal running. She spends all her energy to kpop dance tutorials. Noises: Growls, Grunts, whimpers, barks - They all exist in her vocabulary. Although she feels rather embarrassed whenever it slips up. Something about her emotions getting the best of her whenever one of those come out. Nobody in the squad teased her about it, lest they want to end up on Wednesday’s personally hit list. She whimpers a lot when watching horror movies.

Roomie Privileges: (These are special cases that only occur to Wednesday.)

Pets: Whenever Enid is in a particularly needy mood, she goes to Wednesday for pets. It could be on her hair, a rub on her back, the slight massage of the nape or even gentle scratches behind her ears. Enid patiently waited on Wednesday’s bed, scrolling on her phone mindlessly until the clicking of the typewriter comes to a halt. The blonde perked up as Wednesday sighs and move towards her. She didn’t hesitate to zoom in her head on Wednesday’s lap, looking up to those dead eyes.

“Same as last time?” Wednesday says stretching her fingers.

“Yep!” Enid’s eyes shutter to a gentle close. Cold fingers stroke and scratch her scalp, lulling her to a comfy nap. Scent Marking: Enid has subconsciously scent mark anything she and Wednesday have touched. From Wednesday’s blazer to her hand. For safety and her personal sanity she reasoned. Like to protect her from other furs. Then again, maybe it’s really because the furs needed to be protected from her instead.

“Enid. Hand it.” Wednesday crossed her arms. “I merely asked you to hold it for a minute.”

“Yeah I know but...” Enid looked down shyly. The blazer wrinkled under tightened hands. “It smelled uncomfortable!” Wednesday merely raised a brow. “... I am to assume you made it ‘smell comfortably?” Enid cringed. “Y-yeah?” Wednesday only blinked at her. She took the jacket and gave it a curious sniff. “Your cinnamon candles emanate a most nauseating scent, Enid.”

Enid perked up. She watched Wednesday slip it on with ease, straightened out perfectly well. “Suppose it’ll be efficient to strangle any passerby idiotic furs... Now, let’s return to the dorm. This ‘Bomb Time Haste’ show you speak of sounds torturous.” Enid’s smile reached to her ears. “Jeez, it’s Big Time Rush!” Biting: She gently bites or nips on Wednesday whether it be on her clothes or skin. It could be from a slew of reasons, but she mostly does it because she’s fond of her roommate. She bites the side of Wednesday’s hand usually not too hard but enough to leave a mark. On rare occasions, the collar of Wednesday’s clothes when they’re in the middle of some intense petting session. Enid took a deep breath while she leaned further into Wednesday. Her face to Wednesday’s neck as she practically laid on top of her. The pets from both her head and her back were driving her to bliss she’d never thought of having. To add on to it, their scent mixed together... “Enid, you’re biting.” Enid lazily opened an eye. She whimpered quietly. “I am not mad.” Wednesday sighed as Enid further dove onto her neck. A small huff and a grunt. “...It would seem I have spoiled you far too much recently.” Enid tightened her hold on Wednesday. More whimpers. “Don’t put words into my mouth. I simply said I have spoiled you.” Wednesday gently brushed her nape. “I did not say I’ll stop.”

Licking: Funny enough, it wasn’t Enid that started this habit. Rather a curious Wednesday. After studying more on werewolf culture, the goth learned licks from werewolves formed a way to calm down a pack member. Enid happened to be nervous for an upcoming test and well... “Wends! Did you just lick me?!” Enid’s voice rose to octaves she didn’t even know she could reach. Her wide eyes and a quick hand landed on the spot just below her ear. Wednesday merely nodded. “One of the encyclopedia’s of canine monsters mentions it is a therapeutic method: Heart rate returns to acceptable levels in a single lick.” “Actually I think cardiac arrest is far closer!” Enid huffs, “And that only works if we’re both werewolves!” Enid held her tongue when she saw Wednesday tighten her jaw. “W-wait you were researching...?” “Yes, for the past few days your distracting pacing around and whimpers during your studies have halted my writing time.” Enid processed the information as quick as she could. Before hastily standing up and putting Wednesday’s hand in hers. “You can be so sweet you know, that?” “I’ll skin you alive in your next wolf out, Sinclair.” There was no bite to it at all. Enid only smiled. “I’ll let you lick me... If you’re okay with me licking you?” Wednesday blinked. “I’m not a werewolf.” “And that didn’t stop you from licking me.” Enid teased. In the end, she gave a sigh. Wednesday’s space needs to be respected. “Okay - I get it you -” “You may.” Enid tilted her head to the side. “You may lick me, Enid.” There it is, another blinding smile. “Only in this room. Anywhere else, I will personally pack that wretched red bag of yours and hurl it at Yoko’s door. Are we clear?” Enid nods quickly and immediately leans in for a few licks on Wednesday’s cheek.

[skyfallscotland]

Question for you - what's the state of Liam and Violet's relationship currently? With Remi constantly being deployed all over the place/in a dungeon, we hardly get to see the rest of the squad.

Remi's comment about him rebuilding trust with Violet got me thinking - have that patched things up or are they dancing around each other? Is Violet making the same dumb ass communication mistakes she made in cannon, or is our favorite golden retriever boy a better influence?

Also, love your snippet about him throwing the door wide open the morning after the torture sequence!! Like "I won't tell her, but also I won't make the same mistake twice. My girl needs to know." lol!

They are dancing around each other, lmao

I wouldn’t say she’s making the same communication mistakes, she’s just hurt at this point. Like hers and Liam’s relationship was a lot longer than hers and Xaden’s in canon and you could also say deeper too, so she’s just hurt and taking a while to come around.

Is she completely avoiding him? No, he’s like a fly haha, but she is avoiding anything romantic right now while he tries to mend things.

I’ve considered writing a few snippets of them if I get the inspiration 💖 if I get around to writing some Sloane/Bodhi you’ll see more of them there too because she’s trying her best to look out for (a reluctant) Sloane as well 🥹

In Sloane’s eyes she’s the girl who broke her brother’s heart, so she is not amused or impressed, even though Vi saved her life. She’s very much closer to book-Sloane in that sense, or would be if it weren’t for Rem 💖

Liam letting Vi in on the secret is really more for Remi’s benefit, because he knows she needs support from her sister 🥹🥹

[talkintrashcann]

Wednesday characters playing Just Dance HCS

Summary: this is just a small post about how i think the wednesday characters would be at playing Just Dance

A/N: this one has been sitting in the drafts for a while now and figured now might be a good time to post since i have nothing else to release yet. thought of this while playing the new just dance game and wondered how the characters would play it, so i thought it would be fun to share my thoughts with you guys. feel free to give your own thoughts too, or request something <3

———————

Wednesday: There is no way she would willingly do this, there's only person that could possibly convince her to play just dance and that is Enid. She would not care about her score at all, nor would she even try following along with the little figurines in the corner of the screen. There would not he much energy, no emotion, not even a little sweaty either. I feel like she would somehow manage to get a great score without actually trying, and she would act like it was the easiest thing ever but not in a boasting manner. Would probably say that was pure torture afterwards, but we all know that's what she loves most.

———————

Enid: She's 100% the person that forced everyone to play the game, it also wouldn't surprise me if all the records were on her name as well considering she'd probably play this game so much. She would be so competitive with this, if anyone ever broke her record she would repeat that dance over and over until she had top score again. Girly gets superstar! and megastar!! on every single dance there is, probably having every move memorized including the extreme dances. Would definitely rub her win in everyone's face, doing a little happy dance too.

———————

Xavier: I don't think he would protest against playing the game, but he also wouldn't be the one to suggest it himself. It would mostly depend on his mood and who else would be playing, if it's with people he's close with i think he'd do it but if not there is no way you could convince him to join. This man has absolutely no control over his limbs and would look like an idiot, would also never be on beat either. He'd get angry about not getting a higher score since he's really competitive, but he's aware his talent lies elsewhere. Wouldn't stop him from trying again and again until he finally got more than 3 stars.

———————

Ajax: Im convinced he would ACE this, he definitely has a hidden dance talent that he was waiting for to show to everyone. Definitely playing this game with Enid every now and then, acting like he doesn't want to so she acts all cute trying to convince him and giving in at the end. He'd do that on purpose for sure, just so she would do that. And since she's so competitive he would make sure she always has a few more points than him.

———————

Tyler: I genuinely don't know how he would be at just dance, don't have very high expectations for this man though. He didn't even dance at the RaveN, like he just stood there staring at Wednesday without moving an inch of his body. So I don't expect him to dance anywhere else either. Would probably be there for the vibes, but wouldn't be the one dancing and stealing the show.

———————

Bianca: Would slay so hard, if there's someone breaking Enid's records it's definitely her. Would somehow manage to look cool doing every single dance, no matter how silly looking the choreo really is. Would have her own hype squad sitting in the couch, cheering for her on the sidelines. Queen B has never gotten a single 'X' on her screen for any move, and will never have one.

———————

Eugene: This dude is too precious for the world, he probably wouldn't have a clue about what's going on but he's just happy to be invited honestly. He's doing his best, but what's most important to him is just having fun. He doesn't really care about how many stars he gets or if he gets the top score, he would get average scores I think.

———————

Kent: Would give it his all, secretly loves playing this game but wouldn't admit it. Feel like this man would freestyle half the choreo, really putting in all his energy into the moves. Gets really excited for the 'yeah!'-moves, or any floor movements too.

———————

Yoko: She would do the bare minimum, couldn't be bothered to move her whole body just her right arm to get the point. Still getting lots of stars since she's only focusing on what will give her points instead of looking at the other movements too. Does she look like a badass though? Oh, absolutely.

———————

Divina: Would find it so unfair that Yoko isn't even trying her best, getting frustrated because she's getting more points than her. I think she would be a little competitive as well, but wouldn't rage out like some of the other do. Would mostly just enjoy having fun with her friends, laughing the entire time at how some of them really can't dance.

———————

Rowan: Don't think he'd play for long to be honest, he would try to join a couple dances but would eventually sit back on the couch looking at the others dancing. He doesn't really look like the dancer type, feel like he would be kinda shy to dance around others, feels unnatural for him to dance in the first place.

———————

[eddiemunsonmash]

part two: Baby You’re a Haunted House

summary: In the summer of 1985, your life is turned upside down when your family moves into the newly renovated Creel House in Hawkins, Indiana.

warnings: foul language, drug use (the devil’s lettuce), mentions of parental death, and, as always, mentions of Satan, cults, etc. | WC: 2138

Eddie didn’t care to absorb any of Mrs. Jenkins's lessons; instead, he found himself unabashedly staring at you from a few rows away.

As the bell rang, Eddie nearly stumbled over his own feet in his eagerness to close the distance between him and you. Having not spoken to you since your meeting in the attic, he was eager to have another encounter with you. You turned, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“You weren’t listening to a word she said, were you?” You asked, arching an eyebrow in mock disapproval.

“Nope.” Eddie flashed a goofy grin, his heart racing as you shook your head, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face.

“You cheering tonight?” He gestured toward your cheerleading uniform, watching as you seemed to fold inward, your expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“No,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I just love looking like a busted Sprite can.”

Eddie laughed, weaving through the sea of students in the hallway, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I take it you’re not a fan of the uniform?” He asked as you pushed through the double doors, stepping into the refreshing embrace of the outside air.

“I did gymnastics for years, but Hawkins High doesn’t offer that, so here I am,” you shrugged, a hint of resignation in your tone. “Plus, cheerleading makes colleges think I’m friendly and outgoing.”

“Which is a total lie, isn’t it?” Eddie teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yep,” you nodded, your laughter ringing like a bell as the both of you made your way toward the parking lot.

Riley bounded alongside you, reaching the passenger door of your car before pivoting to face Eddie. “You coming tonight?”

“Me?” Eddie pointed to his chest with exaggerated disbelief. “At a football game?”

Riley nodded eagerly.

“That’s the deal,” you chimed in, leaning against the driver’s side door with a mischievous grin. “I support Hellfire in my space, and Riley becomes the cheerleader’s cheerleader.” You shot a playful smile at your brother, who rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation.

Eddie discovered that the deal was a bit more nuanced than he’d anticipated, munching on concession stand popcorn with his hood pulled up, frizzy curls sticking out like a wild halo. Beside him, Riley stood by the concrete bleachers, his expression serious.

“Our mom works the night shift,” Riley explained, his voice earnest. “Honestly, I’d feel bad if no one was here to cheer her on.” There was a depth to his caring nature that surpassed that of a typical fifteen-year-old.

“Isn’t that a little redundant?” Eddie shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Cheering for a cheerleader?”

“‘Redundant’ is a big word for someone who rarely shows up to English class,” Riley teased, just as the band struck up Hawkins’ fight song, the sound reverberating through the crisp evening air.

In a dazzling swirl of yellow, white, and green, you and the rest of the squad cartwheeled and backflipped your way onto the field. Eddie watched intently, captivated by how effortlessly you turned on the charm, smiling and chanting as you pom-pommed your way up and down the sideline until halftime.

“This is ass,” you huffed as you sauntered over to them, snagging an unopened water bottle from your brother.

“Gymnastics was so much quieter and less sociopathic,” you added, chugging half the bottle in one go, your breath coming in quick bursts.

“Please, do not stay and watch this,” you urged, rolling your eyes. “I see now why it’s considered a form of torture.”

Eddie snorted, and Riley looked almost relieved at your words.

“I’ll see you at home then,” Riley waved, heading off toward where he had tossed his bike somewhere near the tree line.

“You staying for the torture?” You asked, a playful glint in your eyes as you turned back to Eddie.

“I am a sucker for pain,” he admitted, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, a grin spreading across his face.

_____________________________________________________

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” You said, striding up to Eddie, who was still rooted in the same spot where you had left him at halftime. The game had wrapped up nearly an hour ago, ending in a triumphant victory for Hawkins. You had quickly ditched your cheerleading uniform, emerging from the locker room in cozy sweats and a fitted tank top, your wet hair elegantly braided into two dutch braids.

Eddie glanced around the nearly deserted football field, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “What makes you think I was waiting for you?” he teased. “I’m actually here waiting for my friend, the, uh, quarterback.”

You hummed thoughtfully, a grin breaking across your face. “Right, of course. My mistake.”

As you walked together, the field lights flickered off, and the last few stragglers made their way toward the exit, the echoes of laughter fading into the night.

“They really shut the place down quickly, don’t they?” You observed, your brow raised.

Eddie stuffed his hands in his pockets, nodding. “If Hawkins wins, it’s like a stampede. They all rush out to Lover’s Lake for a massive bonfire—beer fest at one of the player’s parents’ lake house.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “That would explain why I was quite literally the last one left in the locker room.”

“They didn’t invite you?” Eddie asked, genuine curiosity glimmering in his eyes.

You sighed, your expression turning contemplative. “I’m only on the team because Veronica Miller broke her leg right before school started. The cheerleading coach reached out when she heard I was looking for a gymnastics studio in town. The girls are friendly enough, but I think they can tell my heart’s not in this, and honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

“Well, since you couldn’t care less and neither of us were invited to the bonfire…” Eddie grinned as he pulled a joint from his breast pocket. “How about we smoke this right here on the football field to celebrate your first night as a mindless, zombie cheerleader?”

You burst into laughter, the sound bright against the quiet night. “Do you just pull joints out of thin air?”

Eddie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you still smoke it if I said yes?”

“Honestly,” you sighed, a playful glint in your eye as you nodded, “I absolutely would.”

You sank to the ground, letting your duffle bag slide off your shoulder with a soft thud. Eddie settled beside you. You laid back, crossing your ankles and lacing your fingers across your stomach. Eddie mirrored your pose, both gazing up at the star-studded August sky.

Your voice cut through the quiet. "Seriously, thanks for staying."

Eddie turned his head, catching you still fixated on the heavens. "Your brother mentioned your mom works nights. Said she can't really support after-school stuff."

A snort escaped you. "Some people choose those hours to dodge things like this. Riley's got a bleeding heart. Always trying to compensate for everyone else's shortcomings."

You rolled onto your side, meeting Eddie's gaze. "But that's a story for another time."

"Is it?" Eddie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Because I've got nowhere to be and plenty of weed."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned closer, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "So, you want to hang out with a member of the satanic cultist family that’s trying to open a portal to hell in the murder house?"

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “You want to hang out with the town freak willingly?” His laughter was dry, laced with self-deprecation.

“You’re not a freak,” you replied with a sigh, your tone firm. “It’s this backwards-ass town and their backwards way of thinking.” You crossed your arms defiantly. “In Indy, you’d fit right in. You’re just in the wrong place.”

Eddie pondered your words, his mind drifting to the life you must have left behind. He imagined the bustling streets of Indianapolis, the vibrant energy, and how starkly different it must feel compared to the sleepy, judgmental aura of Hawkins.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” you continued, your voice steady, “people can be dicks everywhere. But in a city that big, no one cares how you look or what kind of music you’re into.”

He watched as you sat up, crossing your legs, and quickly mirrored your stance.

“So, why’d you guys leave?” Eddie asked, curiosity piqued.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “My dad died, and my mom got this huge life insurance check. She’s from Hawkins originally and wanted to move back. She snagged the murder house for a steal and has these big plans to turn it into a bed and breakfast.”

“A portal to hell and a bed and breakfast?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Aren’t they one and the same?” You shot back, laughter bubbling up as you nudged him playfully.

“I had no clue about its history until two days before we moved,” you confessed, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I literally refused to leave. I tried to stay with my aunt; I unpacked all my boxes and stood my ground.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t work out, considering you’re here with me,” Eddie pointed out, watching as you plucked at the tufts of turf grass beneath you, your fingers absentmindedly tugging at the green blades.

“My mom repacked them while I was sleeping and really gave me no choice,” you shrugged, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “Plus, Riley and I stick together.”

Eddie's smile morphed into a mischievous smirk as he sat up, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, let me formally welcome you to Hawkins," he drawled, holding out the joint like an offering.

You leaned in, the joint nestled between you lips. The flame from Eddie's lighter danced, casting flickering shadows across your faces as you inhaled.

"Sometimes," you began, your voice taking on an airy, almost sing-song quality as you held in the smoke, "I lie on the floor and pretend to be a dead body." You exhaled, sending a plume of smoke swirling above Eddie's head. "Just to be an asshole and remind my mom that she moved us into a literal crime scene."

Eddie snorted, accepting the joint back. "You're sick and twisted," he said, his tone a mix of admiration and disbelief.

Your laughter bubbled up from deep in your belly, genuine and infectious.

"You know," you admitted, your voice softening, "I was happy to see you in English class that first day. Happy to see someone real, not some cookie-cutter version of a person from a Sears catalog.”

“And I’m glad you waited for me tonight.” You admitted quietly. “It’s nice to have someone on my level to talk to.”

Eddie let the words settle, savoring them like the smoke in his lungs. Of all the things he'd been called, 'normal' had never made the list. Your confession made him feel almost vulnerable, and he wasn’t sure if he was feeling the vulnerability wafting off of you or a form of his own softness trying to seep out.

"I think your idea of normal is a little... off," he said, his eyes comically wide as he emphasized the word 'off'.

"Maybe you're right," you shrugged, accepting the joint. You took a long, thoughtful drag before continuing. "But at least you're brave enough to be yourself."

Your gaze grew distant, unfocused. "I've found myself turning into a chameleon since moving here," you confessed. "Keeping to myself, not letting anyone close enough to figure out that maybe I'm a freak too." Your eyes widened briefly, mirroring Eddie's earlier expression. "Though, moving into a murder house hasn't exactly helped my reputation. Wearing a stupid uniform and yelling in riddles has at least kept the pitchforks at bay."

You locked eyes as you passed the joint back, a silent understanding passing between the two of you.

The joint flickered, more paper than herb now. With a casual flick, Eddie tossed it behind him. The absurdity of the gesture broke through the moment, and your laughter rang out, Eddie's own chuckles joining in harmony.

His laugh echoed in the empty field as he stood, extending his hand to you. "Let's get the zombie cheerleader home before she starts eating my brain," he teased, pulling you to your feet.

Your eyes glinted with humor. "I don't think I'd eat your brain," you quipped as the two of you ambled towards the parking lot. "There's not much in it, so I can't imagine it would be very filling."

Eddie clutched his chest in mock offense before dissolving into laughter alongside you.

As you hung off the driver's side door, you glanced at Eddie, a hint of hope in your voice. "I guess I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah," Eddie smiled, his eyes soft in the dim light. "Monday."

[echoedcrosshairs]

Those Who Fight Together - part 5

Summary: Undescribed Jedi female continued story with The Bad Batch in 3rd person 🖤Smut with a Plot series🖤

Warning: NSFW, Crude language, Multi Partners, Echo’s doubt & self esteem issues, PiV Creampie, Toys, Cybernetics

Word Count: 4.3k

18+ NSFW NO MINORS

Part 4 Part 6

Story Master List

Your heart was finally starting to calm down, a cool sweat had danced across your body and your mind kept trailing to Crosshair, the tiny emotion that broke through. It was still rough yet tender, you don't expect that man to know what gentle is even if it smacked him across the face. You ran your fingers across the pillow, the smell of him lingered. It was calming, all of them smell so unique you could tell who was who just but the smell. You closed your eyes and wondering what you got yourself into, if it was worth the trouble it was going to cause and it definitely was going to cause a lot. The door opened and you peered over to see who it was, Tech who obviously was very flustered came walking over finicking with his goggles before kneeling front of you. Red hot embarrassment flashed across your face remembering all of the marks Crosshair left on you.

His fingers grazed near the marks on your neck watching you wince, "Those are very painful," letting his voice not show anything.

"He needed to it get it out of his system," you said wondering if it was more then that, a warning.

"I'm surprised you weren't intruded upon, a handful of Regs were taking about the noises coming out of this room. Do you need medical attention?" He said pulling his fingers away from you.

"A shower, and maybe a few patches but I might leave one of them."

"Why?"

"Because I do belong you boys, it would be fair if each of you left one."

Techs eyebrow shot up, "I'm not sure if that would be the best for Crosshair, as much as I enjoy it."

"You think these were meant for you all to see?" You said feeling the hesitation rolling off of him.

"It would align with his trail of thinking."

Echo walked it, wandering what was taking Tech so long. He found Tech bent over you, blocking his view.

"It looks like you got into a fight with a Quarren and lost," his eyes opened and his mouth turned down, "there is no way we're smuggling her out of this room looking like that."

"We're not, but you are. Perhaps even if a Reg saw you together they would pick on you less," doing his best to be optimistic, Tech fully agreed with that statement.

"Fine, they're still in the mess. Keep them busy, can't be in two places at once," Echo uttered shaking his head.

Echo noticed her wincing went to sat up and put her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing the bruises on the delicate parts of her body. Frustration coursed through his hardware. Crosshair had crossed a line, he was going to good piece of his mind later because being rough was one thing but this looked like torture.

"Your head is loud" You mumbled at him trying to distract him from whatever was troubling him.

"Crosshair held this back?" Gesturing to the sight of you, "What if he wanted another couple days, you would be in the tank again."

"Echo, I'm okay."

"He just crossed a line."

You kissed him catching him off guard, "I am okay," you said each word staring into those big gold eyes which he only had.

"Let's get you to the shower then I'll apply the patches," he said helping you up with your legs still partially wobbly under you, your arm up around his neck and his hand clutching your waist for dear life.

Of course Troopers were passing by, gawking at him and the blush over both of our faces. Echo's fingers dug a little more into you continuing forward.

"What's a girl like that doing with him?" "She looks like she had a good time" "Do you think his brothers joined him?" "They've been in the mess." "Damn, maybe when he's done I could have some fun with that."

The Bad had their own private showers around the corner, given they were one of the only squads that were actual base was on Kamino. Echo helped you into the shower and was trying to leave when you asked him to stay. He blinked but obligated staying on the outskirts of the wall trying to stare at your form as you undressed. You wagged your hips a little bit as a tease before hoping in the showering. Making sure to bend over to scrub foot to hip before standing up to finish washing your sore neck and shoulders. You turned out the water ringing your hair out the best you could before grabbing the towel Echo was holding for you.

"You know your head is very loud right," you joked patting off.

"You have no idea" he huffed turning his face away.

You finished drying off and putting on a pair of blacks that covered most of the bruises except for the dark one under your ear. You did a playful little spin for him, which got a little grin out of him. Walking back to the barracks the stares were lighter but the warmth still spread across your cross but when you looked at Echos his was only more sunken in.

"Hey, I like you the way you are Echo."

"Back when I was a reg, I would have believed it."

You pushed him up against the wall in perfect view of everyone, your hand flat against his chest "Listen here, most of these boys haven't even faced real combat. You are a WAR HERO, Echo. Their opinions shouldn't matter. You lived through hell's I couldn't imagine and came out still wanting to be a Trooper, choosing to serve in a suicide squad to protect the Republic and your brothers from having to do it. You got that Trooper?" you said letting your hand into a finger  digging into his chest.

"Yes, General," he said with a small smile.

You kissed his cheek, "Good. Now I'm starving."

Instead of getting changed into regular attire, you stayed in the blacks even when Echo tried to drag you back into the barracks to change because everyone was staring. You jumped out the way of his bear tackle, bouncing back and forth down the wall waiting for him to catch up. He muttered something about be a dead man before catching up.

"Feel better?" You asked smiling.

"Do you really think that highly of me?" He asked quietly.

"I do now it's just a matter of getting you to think that."

You watched Crosshair's eyes squint as you entered the mess, staring you up and down. Wrecker whistled. Hunter growled at a comment a reg said walking by and poor Tech was to engrossed in whatever he was reading to look up until Wrecker smacked him in the back of the head to get his attention. His jaw dropped as he fixed his twisted googled.

"Echo, I don't think is what I meant by Regs would pick on you less."

"She insisted."

"If their going to stare, it might as well be me instead of you guys."

"That is actually logical, I'm impressed."

"I didn't think she could get any hotter," Wrecker said staring.

"You have no idea," Hunter leered.

"Why are you wearing that?" Crosshair gritted out.

"Because of that," you smiled walking over to grab food.

"Succubus," he muttered.

You can tell all of them were watching as you swayed passed. Most of the Regs eyes were on you too.

"You know you're going to get someone in trouble for wearing that?" Wolffe said sneaking up on you.

You jumped a little, "I think you may get in trouble if you keep staring."

"Oh they already want to get a piece of me."

"What did you do?"

"I may have told them."

"You are sooo a dead man," you laughed, remember on the names slipped out after the fight.

"Might be a better option compared to Crosshair's glare," he said looking at him and then back at you, "Everyone has also heard about last night. You might want to head out soon to avoid the backlash."

"Me? Back down from a fight?-"

"-For their sake."

"Fine, well eat and head out. Thank you Wolffe."

"Just watching out for my pack, good luck out there."

You relayed the message back to the boys once you got to the table, opting to take the food to go instead. Echo and Wrecker stayed closer to you think time basically dancing a crossed your heels like two coiled snakes waiting to strike. The boys packed up their essentials and quickly restocked the armory. Still lounging in the blacks laying on your bed in the Marauder, Echo walked in rubbing his neck nervously staring at you.

"Can we talk for a minute?" He asked.

"What's on your mind?"

"You know I can't— well you know," he said waving his hand to his lower half.

"I know, I read your schematics before Cody introduced us."

"And you still like me?" He puzzled.

You pulled towards him towards you using the force, shocking his as you traced your fingers around this head implants down to his waist ones. You heard his breathing speed up which caused you to stop not knowing if it was torturing him.

"Even if you don't have a functional cock in that way, can you still...?"

"Yeah," he said this time more intensely rubbing his neck, "it just takes awhile."

"See there's options if it's something you really want too but we don't need too."

"Are you sure?"

"Echo-"

"I'm just messing with you, Mesh'la."

"How long exactly..?" You asked, the term of endearment making you pulsate.

"About an hour, usually" He paused to whispering something disgustingly delicious.

"You might be dirtier then your brothers."

"I could tell you stories."

"How about we make some stories," you said tugging the black shirt over your head.

Echo let out a yearning groan looking at you, everything he's ever wanted and more. He wished he still had both of both hands and lower extremities, his mind was absolutely filthy. He looked at the marks on you, before putting his own directly on the other side so they would match. He smiled knowing how annoyed someone was going to be but didn't care. His fingers danced up and down your spine letting his fingers find your hair playing with it.

He got distracted learning your body as much as it felt good you wanted time making him feel good about himself. You let your hands work his up shirt, letting your fingers trace trade around the mechanical ports stimulating his cyber connections. You brought his shirt letting the pale skin and bringing your mouth trade about the ports, causing him to let out a heavy groan. Every touch caused electrical signal to scatter along his body. You enjoyed watching his body twitch at the touches.

He pulled you up from his torso, moving you back back on the bed hot mouthed kissing you as he brought your hand to the back of his head. He moaned into your mouth shuttering.  You stroked under the implant faster. His breathing quickening and wild.

"I don't think it's going to take an hour," he said putting spreading your legs a little further apart for his hand.

He brought his fingers to the little spongy knot inside of you stroking and letting his thumb rub circle your clitoris. His strokes in you desperate to make you feel good, he noticed the change in your anatomy the slight pink swell being more noticeable.

"You really must really like my touch," he said removing his hand pulling down your pants down to your knees, moving down to taste you, "I think you'll like this more."

His fingers rushed back into you, stroking endlessly as he sucked on you and rested his other arm between your stomach and belly button applying pressure. His fingers were coated in your warm lubricant squishing down on him like your heart beat. You moaned his name pressing your head further down into the pillow your hips pushing more of yourself into his mouth. Your eyes half closed with lust as you looked down see what an orgasm for him looked like, full body twitching with his eyes shut and his hand clapped down on you stroking harder. He sucked harder on you pressing his tongue harder against you. You pulsated harder waiting for the release to come but Echo came again first, this time his body tightening down causing him to shrink down on himself. You squirmed on his face, moaning. No man had paid this amount attention to you, worshipped you this much paying attention to every single stroke and movement seeing how you reacted to every slight variation. After you came again, Echo carefully removed himself from you trying not to making the spasming worse or painful. He looked at the mild sweat beading across you, accomplishment coating his features as you twitched as he licked his satisfied fingers.

"Thank you," he said smiling.

"For what?"

"Making me still feel like a man who can still please."

You cupped his face with your hands, "You're a very very very handsome man who can make women melt."

"Woman, there's only one I'm interested in," He pulled himself up looking down at you, bright irises staring down at you, "You really are one of kind. Now do you want someone to take you while I play with you or do you need a break?"

"You weren't joking," your eyes widen him.

"Like I said I could tell your stories," he said stroking your face, "Who are you going to choose? Although you look like you could used some rest" He mused, curiously.

"I think I rather play with you again, but I think if I had to choose it would have been Tech or Hunter if that soothes your curiosity."

He stood to peel off his blacks, his confidence falling at his lack of self esteem. Even if it's been awhile since being trapped on Skako Minor his ribs still stuck out with his core still mildly concaved. He was thankful that Tech was mechanically inclined modifying his cyber connections so they were no longer bulky and protruding, every modification making him feel a step closer to his old self.

Your hands travelled along him seeing the extensive reconstruction they did of his body, the holes on his hips and back the reconstruction from the hips down. It was mostly accurate except for his genitals should have been when you noticed it he uncomfortably shifted. It wasn't a thing a lot of people knew about or understood.

"How does it work?" You asked sitting up.

"Like a normal persons but I don't need to eat or drink as often, it works it's way through and this long ovular port in the center opens to... empty waste," he said shifting again.

"Hey it's nothing to embarrassed of," you smiled grabbing his hips pulling him closer to you, "It doesn't bug me," noticing the uneasiness rolling off of himself.

"Just never thought human...-" he paused to look down at himself with a raised eyebrow, "-cyborg relationship could work."

"You are more then a cyborg, Echo. Now are you gonna get back to kissing me or let your self consciousness win?"

He laid back on the bed with you, "You can't be real," he whispered.

You started playing with his connections watching the stimulus distract him, a small moan escaped him. You moved on top of him straddling him. His hand found your breast, cupping it and slightly tugging at your nipple while you returned the favor with the mark on him.

"For having a cybernetic respiratory system, you're bad at controlling your breathing."

"What can I say? I'm defective," he chuckled while smiling at you, genuine confidence showing.

Tech looked at the empty copilot seat wondering where Echo was, even when he wasn't on shift he usually sat up here and kept him company even when it annoyed him. Tech set the ship on autopilot and went looking, which didn't take long to figure out it. He stood in front of the door listening a second to long when the door opened. He stared wide eye at the scene in front of him.

"I didn't even know THAT was possible," he said staring at Echo who was knuckles deep with a massive grin, "Being more machine then man, I mean."

"Either shut up and get in here and help or close the door."

His curiosity got the best of him, although he didn't want to intrude on a personal moment but give it was Echo's invitation he didn't think that was a problem. He looked down seeing the deep scarlet covering your face.

"Are you sure?" He said adjusting his googles looking down at you.

"We can try it," your voice betraying your embarrassment.

Echo was still under you with Tech behind you, playing with your thighs. Being between two hot men was every woman's fantasy but it seemed like an embarrassing nightmare.

Echo removed his fingers noticing how more wet you got, "You are drenched."

"This idea is still questionable but hopefully pleasurable,” taking off a glove to inspect where he would be going, he looked down to find your own wetness coating around your lips and even slightly down your inner thigh, “will be pleasurable,” he corrected.

Echo cupped your face with one hand, “Just enjoy it.”

Tech slowly sheathed himself into you his hands spreading you apart “Fark,” he moaned as soon as he was fully inserted himself.

He had to brace himself for a movement before moving, you were tight against him like you were subconsciously trying to hold onto him, keeping him pulled in. His first thrust are slow and long trying to gauge the speed he go with out incident. Without meaning to Tech lets out a sinfully delish moan of your name but be able to control picking up the speed. Tech abruptly grabbed your hips tilting them forward and causing your back to arch.

“F-a-r-k,” you gasped every letter as you felt the tip of his dick pound against the magic spot of nerves.

“That face your making is so hot,” Echo said rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip noticing the small amount of drool trying to escape, “He’s pounding you just right isn’t he?” He whispered.

You nodded not feeling you should speak, your hands tighten against the back of Echos implant. He lustfully groaned at the contact. Echo’s hand as at the back of your neck, trying to beg to be put how of stimulation misery. Doing your best to hold back an orgasm you stroked him harder moving around all of the easiest accessible implants. He grabbed your hand spotting you, panting and his eyes fluttering. You understood the message to stop to just enjoy yourself.

“May I?” Tech asked barely holding himself back from emptying himself into you.

“Please, please,” the moan was pitiful and full of desire but it still embarrassed you burying your face into Echos chest.

You convulsed around his cock causing him to still, your name falling from his lips and his hand grabbed as big of a handful of your love handles as he could. His cock pulsed in you spewing his warm cum into you, he was still gently thrusting letting his sweat drip off his forehead onto your back. You clenched around him, rocking yourself back on him causing his vision to cut out slightly. He adjusted grabbing one of the many rolled up towels he hide under the bed, he pulled his softening shaft out of you patting himself dry and putting the towel inbetween your legs so you wouldn’t leak every where. Echo still hadn’t quiet recovered, he was excessively tired he stayed his back but moved himself closer the the edge of the bed so you and Tech could have room. You let one hand lay on Echo’s chest and the other was in Tech’s hair, Echo’s hand laid over yours and Tech’s arm went around your waist pulling you tightly against him. Your core to you’re toes tingled with warmth.

“That was-“ Tech started.

“fun-?” Echo finished.

“Erotic?” You added.

“Yes.”

You’re core ached, hoping it will cool down but it still hurt but both of them looked like they needed to go in a tank for a bit. Tech did his best to composed himself quickly because he was technically on duty.

“Do you need anything” he asked getting up.

“No I’m okay. Where are we going?”

“It’s a waste of our skill set but we’re on our way to recover some herbs for medical uses the Kaminoans wanted to study. I need to get back to the helm,” he said getting up and fixing his armor.

“I would be willing to do this again,” he said guarding his voice from the odd sensation in his chest, it was warm but also empty.

“Tech… It’s going okay,” you mumbled, “you just have to acknowledge it before it’ll feel better.”

“Rest.”

“What was that about?” Echo asked.

“Tech has some feelings he has to deal with.”

“Did I ruin something-“

“No no not at all but keep looking at me like that and I might make you ruin me.. again.”

“I might anyway,” Echo said putting himself over you.

“Insatiable aren’t you?” You teased making your boobs jiggle a little bit to get his attention.

“It’s been about four complete orbitals.”

“You poor-poor man,” you smiled stroking the sides of his face, tracing the sharp sunken cheek bones and sharp jaw bone.

Echo always had this grumpiness about him, but it was different now his attitude lighter and more jovial. It made you wonder if this is a slice of who he use to be. Tech stuck his head back in, tossed a sealed box Echo who almost dropped it.

“It might be… uncomfortable but I’d been working on it for sometime. I want an analysis afterwards,” he shut the door and set the manual lock button.

You said up to look at the box, there was several tubes that looked like they would fit his ports, “What is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah… a black market retrofitted luxury-bot upgraded play part.”

“Echo you can just say cyber dick” you start uncomfortably laughing staring at it and the amount of wires, “Do you want to try it?”

Echo looked down at him and that at the art, anxiety riddling him again. What if it doesn’t work? What if it works and it breaks? What if it hurts you? He took a breath trying to push the thoughts aside and nodded. He very carefully started attaching it, feeling his programming starting to probe and testing the software with no sign of rejection. Half way having it attached it touching it slightly to gauge the feeling. It didn’t feel much different but the more he attached the port the more he felt. After connecting all six ports to him self, he barely put a finger on it before removing his hand and gritting his teeth.

“Are you okay Echo?” You asked panicking.

“Just need to turn it down,” he said trying to adjust the sensitivity levels on it, “because that was why to much,” he said touching it again, having it be a lot more tolerable.

He groaned at the sensation, feeling it through his thighs and hips. It wasn’t quiet how it use to feel, but it was definitely still an improvement. He touched it again, it was still a little much but it was on the lowest setting he could find. You place your hand around it, it was definitely hard with minimal padding but the blissful look on his face said it was worth it. You kissed his lilac lips, bringing your hand to his extension gently stroking it. He was very vocal about his pleasure, but reached for your hand, not exactly stopping you but but slowing it way down.

“It’s still really intense isn’t it?”

“It feels good, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I know it’s not-“

You cut him by sitting on him taking all of it at once, using your heels to bounce your self on it.

“Farking Sith’s hell” he groaned trying to keep his eyes on you, to see every bounce, jiggle and face you made.

You stopped to flex your cervix muscles to pulsated on him, it hurt a little to press down but the way his back pressed in the bed “Now let’s see how many times I can make you cum before you tap out,” you purred starting to bounce on him again.

“I thought I was pent up,” Crosshair said sitting upfront with Tech getting up as far away any from the moaning as possible.

“Given Echo’s ordeal, I am not surprised and I think the four of us will be here for while. Although I am fascinated by the concept that the damage he received didn’t destroy that area of basic human need and the fact his retained most of his deviant nature from when he was a reg.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that,” Crosshair muttered.

“Do you know that if it was at least safe to give it to him?” Hunter asked, doing his best to hide his jealousy.

“I’m proud of him,” Wrecker said crossing his arms.

“I did run diagnostics on the original software myself, deemed it inefficient and rewrote the code for it. I would say the design of the program is sound, however I can not speak of the shape or how hard it is. Their is a slim chance of anything going wrong.”

“TECH, it’s Echo.”

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Have a sleepover with the torture dance squad (Narancia and Mista stay up late watching youtube and you cant sleep) or listen to one of Giornos rants about bugs (lasts 10 hours and you cant stop him or sleep during said 10 hours)

I would choose Giornos rant about bugs! But this one is hard because spending time with Narancia and Mista sounds great! Even though I like to sleep. But I get overstimulated by having the TV on for too long so I’ll take the bug rant (and come out of it with some new bug facts!)