#and be able to boot up the chapter and just run through it without having to make a whole new character

[sheyshen]

i gotta say i do miss the chapter format from kotfe/kotet, i wish they kept up with that to kinda give players a way to navigate or revisit parts of the story easily

[fawnwilde]

What Comes After II ⋆˚࿔

charles smith x reader

previous | request

rating: explicit (18+)

You and Charles have arrived in Canada, beginning the next chapter of your life together.

Everything couldn't be going better, until you witness a working girl taking a fancy to your man

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, fluff, charles being a sweetheart, idiots in love, jealousy, unprotected piv, bit of a breeding kink dont @ me, happy ending :>

word count: 4.0k

Five months have passed in the blink of an eye, and your perfect future is closer than ever.

The morning after yours and Charles’ first night, the two of you decided to head north to Canada. The journey would take a while, but you both knew it would be worth it for a fresh start.

The harsh summer heat in the mid west became freezing winter’s making your way to the Canadian border. Before you knew it, you and Charles had found yourself in a whole new country.

Full of new opportunities.

Along the way, you both worked to build up a decent amount of cash. Hunting game to sell to towns along the way, accepting jobs from strangers in dire need.

No matter what your days consisted of, your nights were always spent wrapped up together, beneath the stars when the weather was warm, or in your wagon when the winds blew cold.

Whatever the day brought, you faced it with a smile having Charles at your side.

The day you crossed the border, you did so hand in hand. A merchant took your American money and exchanged it for Canadian currency.

You found an area of Canada you liked, in the western edge of Alberta. A widow sold her husband's properties throughout the province, and Charles spent a good amount of money on a perfect piece of land that would be the empty canvas for your home.

The property was large even for what you spent, a green field nestled amongst mountains and snowy forest trees.

A town has been built not too far away, two hours by horse. It overlooked a lake that brought all kinds of wildlife to drink.

When you first arrived, you spent a good while just looking out at the wondrous views your new home offered. And behind you, Charles admired your awed expression, a smile on his face.

The first morning, the two of you sit on a log overlooking the view of the distant lake and the surrounding peaks.

“We’re home.” You sighed, smiling up at your man.

Charles smiled back, taking your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “We’re home.”

Only a few weeks in, and Charles had taken making your home in stride.

You and he drew up a plan, and he went into the town to buy supplies. The house would take a long time to built by yourselves, but Charles didn't seem worried.

After the initial planning, a few young men make the journey from the nearby town to help with building, for reasonable pay.

Charles had his guard up when they approached, but when the men descended from their horses, you saw the men were dark skinned like your man. They had been looking for work, and heard about the two of you.

You were just happy to be surrounded by people without questions, without judgment. It was almost like being with the gang again.

With your husband's strength, the assistance of half a dozen able-bodied men, and your own help in planning and menial work, a strong foundation was in place within a month.

Tonight, you sleep in your wagon, wrapped up in blankets as you read a book in the glow of the lamplight.

The wagon steps creak, and Charles crawls in. He smiles tiredly, tugging off his boots before sliding in next to you. His solid weight behind you makes you purr like a cat, snuggling against him.

“Going well?” You ask.

“Mhm.” Charles murmurs, “Tired now.”

You turn to kiss him gently on the lips, before blowing out the lantern and settling against him to rest. Before long, you hear him snore softly, and it lulls you into your own sleep.

You awake to the sound of birds and the harsh bite of the Canadian cold.

A shiver runs through you, your eyes opening slowly and adjusting to the sun poking through the cracks of your wagons curtain.

It’s far too early for you. Gone are the days where you woke up with the sunrise to work with the girls in camp, or sometimes joined the men with a job.

You’re domesticated now, and utterly spoiled by your partner.

Charles always lets you sleep in, waking you with coffee and food. And, inadvertently, treating you to the sight of him sweaty and smiling after working on the house since dawn.

You’re truly the luckiest woman ever.

This morning, however, the winter has no sympathy for you. Snow has fallen on your mountain side hideaway, and the wind drags its fingernails over your exposed cheeks and neck.

Squirming, you snuggle further into blankets, growing frustrated when the cold persists, slithering through the edges of your cocoon.

With a sigh, you decide to get up and face the day.

Leaving the confines of your wagon, you look over the now snowy landscape, shocked at how much snow had fallen while you slept. The foundation of the house had been covered by a large canvas, and a few of the men were already banging hammers and cutting up wood.

You spot Charles across the open field of your home, bundled up in his own coats while he secures a wooden beam. His strength knows no bounds, the biting temperature not getting in the way of his efforts.

And despite the temperature, you smile when you look at him.

“Morning, miss.” One of the men greets you as you pass, waving before going back to warming his cupped hands. The others nod at you as you pass.

“Morning, Ira.” You say, your breath forming a cloud in front of you, “Gentlemen."

As you approach the house-in-progress, you’re hit with another gust of wind. It makes you audibly shiver, coming up to Charles’ side to try and steal some of his natural warmth.

“It’s a cold one today, my love.” You say through chattering teeth.

Charles smiles when he turns and sees you at his side, placing his tools down to wrap his arms around you. His body is a furnace, melting the icicles on your skin.

“You’re not too cold, are you?” He asks against your hair, “I can chop more firewood and make you another fire.”

“Ah, I've survived worse.” You laugh, tucking yourself into him like a burrowing critter.

Charles hums, tucking you under his chin, “Reminds me of Colter.”

“Ugh, don't remind me.” You laugh, shaking your head at the memory.

“It’s better here. Happier.” You can feel Charles smile, “Better company when I sleep too.”

“Very high praise. I’m better than Bill Williamson and Micah Bell.”

The two of you share a laugh. A few snowflakes flurry past you, sighs of another wave of snowfall to come. You’re looking forward to the house being done, days ahead where you can sit in front of a fire and watch the snow through glass windows.

“I need to go into town to get more wood, maybe something else to reinforce the house.” Charles says, “Raymond and Paul will come with me, need them to load the scraps.”

Raymond and Paul Hislop are two brothers who have been building the barn, and the two you both are closest too. They’re young and kind, far too enthusiastic for the circumstances they’ve lived in.

You try not to think about how they remind you of Lenny.

They don't have a home, so they camp alongside the two of you, unlike the other men who return to their homes at the end of the day. You hope that when you and Charles have an operating cattle farm, as Charles dreams, they will continue to work for you.

“Could I come into town with you?” You ask, hopeful, “I’d like to see a bit of civilisation.”

You don't travel there often, preferring to socially interact with the men who help around camp, and travel around with Charles through the woods to get your fill of nature.

What can you say? You love your new home too much to leave it often. Even if it’s just a scrap of land and the bones of a house.

“Of course, my love.” He smiles, “We’ll find somewhere warm for you to stay for a while, wait out the coming storm. Wouldn't want my future wife freezing before I can finally make an honest woman of her.”

You laugh with a roll of your eyes, letting him take your hand as he leads you both to the Hislop brothers and the horses.

The four of you travel quickly, wanting out of the cold as soon as possible.

You’re sat in the cargo wagon, wrapped up in two coats to fight the chill as Charles drives and the brothers ride alongside you.

Paul tells you stories from his and his brothers travels around Canada, and you listen aptly. He’s a good storyteller, and you need the distraction from the biting chill. Raymond and Charles discuss plans for the house, and the barn they plan on building for the cattle farm.

By the time you’re in town, the men have a good plan in mind, swiftly securing the materials and tools they need, and then going to a saloon for warmth and a drink.

The saloon is quite bustling for such a small town. As you take in the various patrons milling about the well decorated room, you realise many travellers must come through this town to get to the rest of Alberta.

You can't find it in you to hate it, enjoying the white noise of eager chatter and music coming from the piano and it’s elderly player.

“That’s Mr Ellis.” Charles points to an older man across the bar, with a big handlebar moustache and one cloudy eye, “He’s the farmer I plan to buy our cattle from. Do you mind if I go and talk to him for a bit?”

“I'm a big girl, Charles.” You laugh, “Raymond and Paul will keep me company while you’re gone.”

With that, Charles kisses your forehead, before heading off to talk to Mr Ellis.

The brothers find the three of you a table, lining up shots before you even register what's happening.

They’re eager to take some time away from working, talking and laughing together and incorporating you into the conversation eagerly.

An hour has gone by in the flash of light, and you’re laughing around your drink at Paul’s retelling of an incident a few weeks ago, making it more humorous instead of terrifying when a bear tried to move into camp while you and Charles were hunting.

It’s easy being around them. But you’re starting to miss your man, so you look to the bar to try to find him.

He's still talking to Mr Ellis, but there's a big smile on his handsome face, making you smile in turn.

Until your smile drops.

A working girl has approached Charles, sidling up beside him wordlessly. She seems overly familiar with both men, edging into the conversation without a beat wasted.

Seeing your expression, Raymond turns in his seat to see what has soured your mood. His eyes widen, and he shakes his head before nudging his brother.

“Elsie’s back.” He whispers to Paul, grimacing.

Paul sighs, knocking back his whiskey, “She just won't quit, that one.”

“Who?” You ask, staring at the woman.

Elsie, as they’ve called her, is pretty. Startling so. Dark hair and eyes, a full figure with long legs. Like a damn amazon, and her attention is all on Charles.

The sight of her throwing her head back, exposing her elegant neck as she laughs flirtatiously, makes your stomach turn.

Raymond and Paul give you a look, before looking at each other.

“Well-” Paul begins, “Elsie is one of the working girls. She heard talk about Mr Smith coming to town with full pockets and thinks he’d be a good client.”

Absolutely not, you think as you grind your teeth.

“Your Charles only comes in here to talk to Mister Ellis. But Elsie keeps approaching him, taken a real liking to him.” Raymond says.

You flinch, confused by his phrasing. You know damn well Charles would never be unfaithful to you. Especially not spending money on affections that he's getting at home.

In excess.

Raymond notices your look, and is quick to explain, “Mr Smith ain't doing nothing behind your back.”

“Yeah.” Paul nods, “The lord knows he ain’t that kind of man, and me and Paul wouldn't let him be taken advantage of when Elsie approaches him after a couple drinks.”

“She does what?!” You’re sure there’s steam coming out of your ears at this point.

“Miss, really- Mr Smith hasn't ever spared her a second glance.” Paul tries.

“She once tried to ‘slip’ and fall into his lap, but Mr Smith just set her right and excused himself from her presence.”

They're right. Charles is deep in conversation with Mr Ellis at the bar, his eyes never straying to the woman latched to his side.

But that doesn't deter Elsie from leaning into him trying to get his attention, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger and batting her eyes at Charles.

You’re reminded of a time, long before you and Charles were together, being with the gang in a dusty saloon. The men had working girls surrounding them, Javier and Sean drunkenly dancing with a few, and Charles disappeared upstairs with one.

He wouldn't do that to you, be unfaithful and spend hard earned money on a night with a stranger… but the fact that he wasn't averse to a working girls touch makes your skin prickle with unease.

Another twinkling laugh from Elise, her smile hungry and her hand on Charles’ arm as she giggles at a joke, and you've had enough.

Pushing yourself up from the table, you storm towards the bar.

Raymond and Paul watch you leave. The younger of the two gets up to try to stop you, but Raymond grabs his wrist.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” You hear him mutter, before his voice disappears amongst the symphony of the saloon.

During your walk towards the bar, you think of a thousand ways you could handle this.

You could go over and scream bloody murder, stake your claim in front of everyone. But Charles is a very private man, surely he wouldn't want attention being brought to the situation.

You could calmly tell Elsie to back off, but how many working girls are approached by enraged wives, only to slide back into their husbands laps when they leave?

You could leave it be- no, you’re not doing that, that's for damn sure.

You sidle up to the bar before you have a plan in mind. There are a few patrons sitting and drinking, and the thought of causing a scene now seems almost selfish, causing drama where people are just trying to have a good night.

Although you know full well a fight in a bar is about as rare as a priest in a church. Sean always said, “Nothing livens up a night out like a good scrap.”

Looking to your right, you can see Charles’ broad back while he converses with Mr Ellis.

There are a few drinks between you, but you can see that the conversation seems to be going well, with the older gentleman raising his glass to your man as he chuckles.

Elsie leans against the bar, her back arched in an attempt to draw Charles’ attention to her ample chest. Mr Ellis looks down at her, but you cannot tell if Charles has taken notice.

It makes you feel sick with envy and rage, a powerful possessive urge inside you, a primal desire to make your territory.

Watching her, you remember a conversation you shared with Abigail, a lifetime ago. How prostitutes had unspoken rules, how they wouldn't listen to civilian women staking their claim.

But cat fights amongst working girls were not uncommon. See a man you want, and it’s all fair game amongst other women of the night.

A smirk forms on your mouth as an idea strikes you, turning to the bartender to ask for a room for the night.

Time to play Elsie at her own game.

Moving past the patrons in between you and the trio, you catch the attention of the bartender, ordering a shot of whiskey. Charles turns at the sound of your voice, and his face lights up seeing you.

He bids Mr Everett a good night before turning his attention to you, his eyes soft as he tilts his head at you.

Leaning your hip against the bar, you bat your eyelashes at Charles, “What's a handsome fella like you doing in a place like this?”

Charles' eyebrows furrow in confusion. Beside him, Elsie scoffs, narrowing her eyes at you.

The look between you and her makes Charles raise his eyebrows, but he gives you a befuddled smile.

“Just looking to have a good time, miss.” Charles says, leaning closer towards you, playing along despite his confusion at your behaviour.

“Well, that I can certainly provide.” You flirt, dragging your fingers along his thick forearms.

Elsie makes a disgruntled noise, taking a step into Charles’ side, causing his eyes to widen and lean away from her.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. Don’t waste your time and money on her.” She says to charles before turning to you, glaring “This isn't your territory, girly.”

“He ain't your sweetheart,, so why don't you back up a bit.”

Elsie scowls, opening her painted mouth to continue arguing, but you hold a hand up to her face, silencing her as you lean into Charles.

“How about I show you how a real woman fucks?” You breath, turning up the flirtations to a hundred.

Charles’ eyes darken, but purses his lips to keep his face neutral, extending his elbow to you. You link his arm, leading him towards the rooms upstairs.

You can hear Elsie call you something unsightly as you leave, but you pay her no mind. As you ascend the stairs, Raymond and Paul lift their glasses to you.

Walking away from the chaos of the saloon feels like a victory lap, despite the lingering jealousy in your veins.

Once in the hotel room, you swiftly push Charles onto the bed, climbing into his lap.

You kiss him hurriedly, before he wraps his strong hands around your waist and pulls you back slightly.

He looks into your eyes, searching them. You try to hide your prior jealousy and aggravation, but he can see right through it.

“What's going on, my love?” Charles asks, “Not that I don't mind what happened, but you seem upset.”

You sigh through your nose, “Elsie.”

Charles blinks at you, “Who? The working girl?”

“The whore, yes.”

“What did she do?” He chuckles, eyebrows furrowed.

“What did she- what did she do?” You parrot, “Trying her hardest to get you into bed? Every time you're here?

“Oh…” Charles’ blinks, his head cocked,, “To be perfectly honest, I thought she was after Mr Ellis.”

You huff out a laugh, “I can't believe you. Why would you think that?”

Charles just shrugs, “I paid no mind to her. Is that what all this was about?”

You sit silently, your eyes drifting down as you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly embarrassed about how jealous you were of a woman who had no chance of turning Charles’ head.

Your silence answers Charles’ question, and he chuckles.

“Was my girl jealous?” He asks, a small smile on his face, “I have no interest in her, my hummingbird, you know that right?”

“You’re mine.”

“That I am.” Charles smiles, pulling you close.

The next kiss is passionate, full of every words left unsaid and every emotion you both feel. Charles wraps his arms around you, pulling your body taunt against his, his firm muscles rippling below his clothes.

You lean back only enough to pull at his shirt, indifferent to the buttons that pop off and fly across the room.

Charles growls low in his throat, his own hands gripping the hem of your dress to pull it over your head with startling ferocity.

In a flash, you're lying on your back, the clothes hastily shredded from your body, naked for Charles’ heated eyes. He groans at the sight of you, biting his plush lower lip.

Hooking your knees under his arms, he spreads you out. You moan as he pushes himself between your legs, rutting his hardened length against you.

“Feel that, my love?” He groans, “Feel how much I want you? Need you?”

You keen, body jolting as you try to match his thrusts. He gives you a look, and you nod, “I feel it. I feel you.”

“No woman will ever make me like this. No woman ever has.”

His lips descend on yours again, as he reaches between you to push his trousers down his hips. They stay at his thighs, his need too strong to wait any longer.

The pressure of his head against you makes you mewl against his lips, your body stretching to accommodate his girth. Charles hums kissing your neck as he begins sinking into your tight heat.

“God, love… always so tight for me.” Charles sighs, “I can’t believe you would've thought I’d ever consider wanting someone else, when I have you. My other half, my love, my world.”

You sob in pleasured agony, wrapping your arms around him to pull his body even closer as he fills you to the brim.

His hips are flush against your own, harmonious moans escaping you both. Charles kisses you sloppily, beginning to fuck you at a slow but hard pace.

“Can't wait to put a ring on your finger.” Charles murmurs against your neck, “Marry you proper, make everyone know you're mine. And I'm yours.”

You mumble out incoherent noises of affirmation, nodding as you look up at him with bleary eyes.

Charles looks down at you heatedly, his fingers gripping into the sheets beside your head as he pounds into you, sending your body jolting against the bed sheets.

It’s driving you insane, and Charles is no better…

“Once our house is done, we’ll get to filling it.” He grits out, pupils blown, “I'll spend every night fucking you until there's a baby in your belly. You want that, dove? Walking around all swollen with my child? Everyone will know just how much I love you-”

He’s rambling now, words becoming incoherent as he picks up his pace, the thought of getting you pregnant making him throb and keen.

You’re desperate for it, clenching around him, your body aching for him to stuff you full of him.

“Come on, darling, cum for me. Need to feel it, before I fill you up.”

“Oh my god, Charles- fuck, I’m gonna- gonna cum-” You cry, throwing your head back.

“Give it to me, my dove.” Charles demands, “Let me feel you.”

With a silent scream, you cum, biting on Charles’ shoulder as pleasure sends feral moans through you. Not a moment later, Charles falters, pressing his length into you fully as he pumps you full. With a groan of your name, he collapses on top of you, breathless and sated.

You lie there, catching your breaths, caressing each others heated skin and exchanging soft kisses.

Charles remains inside you, keeping his seed where it belongs, the both of you hoping it will take.

“I think I like it when you get all possessive.” Charles murmurs against your neck, kissing along the marks he left behind.

You huff out a breathless laugh, “Good, because you’ll be seeing it a lot. You’re mine, Mr Smith.”

“Damn right I am, Mrs Smith.”

AN/ good god I've finally gotten this out!! It's been a weird time but I absolutely love this and want to get back into writing again <3 hopefully ill post regularly again now xoxo

for the lovely @illbecanon who wanted a part two to their ask <3

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (2/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Reader finds her footing as the servant to her new draconic master. Just like there is much of the mountain to explore, so there is much more to learn about the dragon.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

The following morning you woke up and sat with the reality that you were indeed still inside a dragon’s lair. You were now employed to a dragon that looked far more human than you expected a dragon to look. That did not make him any less dangerous. In some ways, you worried that it made him more so.

Without much other choice you slid out of bed and found the clothes that you had worn yesterday. Such finery was not meant for the day to day work of cleaning and cooking. You decided to makeshift one of the layers into a simple working dress and pulled your boots back on. Your first task of the day was going to be finding a bathing room or something.

As you walked about the tunnels you realized that in the years since the mine had closed down nature had taken back over immensely. There was an entire ecosystem in this mountain. Some poking around you found a room with a fresh water spring running through it so you knew you had a place to get drinking water. You took the time to get a drink and wipe some of the grime from your person before moving on.

You eventually found the dragon in one of the tunnels. He was carving a large X into the stone above an archway. He turned his head to look at you. “Morning, you slept late.”

“I don’t really know what time it is. There aren’t exactly windows in here or clocks.” you shrugged. “What are you doing?”

He gave you a look and you held back a groan. “Will you tell me what you are doing, master?”

He smirked and turned back to the arch. “I’m marking the rooms you aren’t to enter. Simple enough for you to understand?”

“Very.”

“Good.” he turned to you fully, his gaze raking you up and down much like it did yesterday. “Is that what you are wearing?”

You looked down at your makeshift dress and shrugged. “I didn’t exactly pack to stay. This is the best I could do.”

“I see. Follow me.” he started walking off without bothering to see if you were actually following.

You had to rush to keep up with his long strides. “Where are we going?”

“To find you something suitable to wear hopefully.”

“Oh…alright.” you kept behind him. “Um, master?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a bathing room in here? Somewhere I can relieve myself? I haven’t come across anything like that yet.”

“There is one down the tunnel to where your room is. I’ll show it to you after we are done here.” he kept walking.

You were led through the tunnels until you saw a bright golden light shining from around one of the corners. Upon turning the corner your jaw dropped as you took in the splendor before you. This was the largest room you had seen in the mountain so far and almost every square inch of it was covered in gold and jewels. It shined so brilliantly it was practically blinding. You guessed you���d be able to buy the entire country with just a quarter of this amount of treasure.

The dragon had stopped and was watching you with an amused smile. “Never seen a proper hoard, have you?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen more than a sackful of gold before. This is…intense.” your foot slipped on some of the gold coins and you slid forward.

Without blinking the dragon had whipped out his tail and steadied you once more. “Watch where you step.” he let go and moved further into the room.

Among all the jewels and gold there was a plain stone dais in the center of the room. There was no treasure on it which was strange considering that the wealth was so overflowing it trickled out into the tunnel. Why leave the dais untouched?

The dragon was rifling through the mountains of gold until he uncovered a chest hidden underneath it all. He pulled it out, sending an avalanche of jewels tumbling away. The chest itself was ornately decorated, inlaid with rubies and emeralds the size of your fist. He opened it and sighed, finding more jewels inside. “Wrong one.” he shoved the chest aside and started sifting through the piles of riches again.

“What are you looking for, master?”

“There is a chest in here somewhere.” he said, pulling out another chest from underneath an expensive looking carpet. He opened the lid and slammed it down again. “I can’t remember which one, but it had clothes in it.”

“Dragons hoard clothes?”

“Dragons take whatever they feel like taking. And I felt like taking a rather large chest that I thought would be full of jewelry but was instead filled with women’s clothing. Ah, found it.” he lifted the chest lid and inside was indeed a pile of clothes in nothing but black.

“Mourning attire,” you picked up one of the dresses. “Good fabric though. It should work.”

“So, what do we say?” the dragon leaned closer with a sharp smile.

“Thank you, master.” you slung the dress over your arm. “I will go get changed and start making breakfast if it is well with you.”

“Go on.” he shooed you away. You took one last look around the room and fled back to your room. You changed into the black dress, relieved that it fit as well as it did. The dragon came by a few minutes later lugging the chest over his shoulder and dropped it in the room for you. You thanked him again before going about your work.

The next couple of days you started to fall into a routine. You woke up, got changed, made breakfast, then started cleaning. You had made the kitchen your first priority. Back when this was a mine this must have been the place miners would rest and cook meals between shifts. Most of the meals you made involved just cooking meat but over time you had been able to find some edible plants around the mountain to help supplement your diet. The dragon could live as a carnivore but you could not.

Your other constant task was trying to find your way around the mountain. It was a labyrinth of tunnels and more than once you got hopelessly lost trying to explore. It was embarrassing to say the least when you ended up in some dark corner of the mountain unable to remember which way you had come from. In those moments you had to call out for the dragon to come find you to escort you back to more familiar sections.

“I’m going to have to put a bell on you one of these days.” he said after you had managed to get yourself lost again. What you really needed was a map.

One day you were exploring once again and came across a shaft of sunlight. You rushed towards it and came out onto the side of the mountain. There was a outcropping of a flat patch of land where a series of hot springs descended down the side of the mountain face, leading to the largest one at the bottom.

The dragon was lounging inside the spring, steam billowing up around him. “Exploring again I see.” he said when he noticed you standing there.

“You didn’t tell me there was a hot spring here!” you huffed. “I’ve been heating water over a campfire for days to bathe and these have been here the entire time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You found it eventually, didn’t you?” he shrugged. “Besides, you never asked.”

“How was I supposed to know to ask?”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you. “You’re awfully haughty today. What has got a bee in your skirt?”

You straightened. “Nothing. Sorry for intruding, master.” you turned to leave.

“No need to scamper off.” he called you back. “Your appearance is actually well timed. Come closer.”

You took a deep breath and turned around to face him, walking to the edge of the hot spring. “Yes, master?”

“Wash my hair for me.”

“Really?” you had been doing a lot of work but none of it pertained to the dragon himself outside of cooking meals.

“Believe it or not but claws do not help a lot with grooming.” he crooked a finger at you. “Now stop procrastinating and get over here.”

You walked around to the edge of the hot spring where he was reclining and took up the soap he handed you. You hesitated for a moment unsure where to start or how to work around the horns. You decided to just go for it and started lathering his hair, taking care to avoid touching his horns. To your surprise he reclined into your touch, his eyes closed.

Any time you had come across the dragon in the days you’d been in the mountain he always looked bored or was grinning like a hungry mountain lion. You had never seen him look so peaceful before. There was something delicate about it, like it was an emotion he wasn’t used to. You started massaging his scalp as you lathered his hair and a content sigh left him. With those claws he probably wasn’t used to soft hands touching him, let alone being able to properly massage anything.

You could have stopped and rinsed his hair already but there was something soothing about it all. You kept going, enjoying the motion of washing his silvery hair, the suds sponging over your fingers and the small satisfied hums that left the dragon.

One of your hands got a little too close to where his horns sprouted though and you swore he growled at you. Your hands immediately sprang away and his eyes opened. “What are you doing?” he asked, his gaze intense. The black of his pupil almost overtook the red.

“Sorry.” you said, “I uh…should I be steering clear of your horns? I didn’t mean to touch them.”

“No. It’s fine.” he closed his eyes again, his chest heaved a deep breath. “They are…sensitive.”

“Oh.” You wouldn’t have guessed that dragon horns would be sensitive. You figured they were more like deer antlers or something like that. “So do I need to avoid them or not?”

“You do not. If anything, they probably need cleaning but I don’t usually take care of them.”

“Oh alright.” Carefully you went back to massaging his scalp, taking the time to actually massage the area around his horns. When you did more small growls escaped him but didn’t make it past his lips, more like a rumbling in his chest. They sent a shiver down your spine and you had to wonder. Were his horns sensitive like a bruise or were they sensitive like the center of a palm? If it was the latter you couldn’t understand why he wanted you to keep massaging them, if it was the former could he be enjoying it? And if so, how much?

You suddenly found yourself glad the steam concealed the fact that a new rush of warmth filled your face. You tilted his head back more to rinse out the suds finally. “There, all done.”

His eyes opened again and before you could step back he shook his head furiously like a dog trying to get dry. “Hey!”

He grinned again, the peaceful dragon you had seen once more gone. “Oh, did I get you wet?”

“You know you did.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Do you not have a towel?”

“Not out here.” he said.

“Would you like me to fetch you one?”

“If you would.”

You nodded and took off back into the mountain to find a towel or something for him to dry off with. If he knew he was going to be getting in the hot spring why hadn’t he brought one with him? Was he just going to drip dry? And what about modesty? Was he going to walk around without anything on until he was dry? Was that what he usually did?

The more you thought about it the more flustered you got. You were no stranger to nudity. In the past you had lovers so it was not as if you were an innocent naive virgin. But you also weren’t comfortable just going about your chores knowing that your dragon master might be strutting around the mountain naked. For goodness sake, you didn’t even know the man’s name! You didn’t want to see him walking around in the nude. Not that you thought he would look bad but it was the principle of the thing.

You found a towel and made your way back out to the hot springs. Thankfully he was still in the spring so you didn’t need to worry about that. You left the towel next to him and made to leave again when something occurred to you.

“Master?” you turned around. “May I ask a question?”

“What is it?”

“Do you have a name?”

Curiosity lighted his face. “Of course I have a name.”

“May I know it?”

“Why do you need to know it? You already have something to call me.”

Your insides tightened. “I know, but a servant would still like to know their master’s name even if they don’t use it. It’s a common courtesy.”

“Human ways are interesting little things.” he tapped his claws against the side of the spring. “Very well, if you want to know you have to give me some information in return.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Do you miss your village?”

Not what you were expecting. “Yes. Of course I do.”

“Anyone in particular that you are missing? Should I be worried about someone coming up here to try and slay me to bring you back?”

“The only person I can think of doing something like that would be my father but he is old so I do not expect him to scale a mountain and face a dragon just to save me.”

“No lovers back home that may try to play the hero knight to save the damsel in distress?”

“No. I had past courtships but nothing ever serious. I certainly had no affiliations when I left the village.” Besides, anyone that you had feelings for in the past were off fighting in the war now. “Now, I’ve answered a lot of questions from you and you have yet to answer one.”

“Yes. Well, you may call me Sylus.”

“Call you Sylus? Is that your name?” It sounded far too human to be the name of a dragon. Was he lying perhaps?

He shook his head, bored once more. “My full draconic name does not translate well to the human tongue. So if you must address me by name, you may call me Sylus.”

“Thank you, master Sylus.” It felt nice to have a name to put to his face instead of just referring to him as the dragon or master the entire time. He felt a little less intimidating with a name.

Then, as if to punish you for having a quiet moment of gratitude he decided to stand up. You quickly averted your gaze but not quick enough to avoid getting an eyeful of his dick as he stood out of the water.

He chuckled, stepping out of the spring. “Such an adorable reaction.” he stepped closer, wrapping the towel around his hips. The heat of his body and the coolness of the air caused steam to rise off of him. You weren’t sure if it was the steam or his breath that dampened the back of your neck though as he leaned in close. “How much of a maiden are you, exactly?”

“Not that much.” you balled your hands into fists, “I just don’t appreciate being flashed.”

“Fair, I suppose.” he straightened to his full height. “Now that you’ve found the springs feel free to use them as much as you wish.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, trying to not think about how close your legs were to giving out on you.

Sylus left and the moment he was gone you relaxed, leaning against the wall for support. You had really hoped you were getting used to him and then he went and did stuff like that! Did the man enjoy tormenting you? You closed your eyes, trying to center yourself and his dick popped back up in your memory.

“Fuck me!” you groaned. “Get out of my head! I am not dealing with this!”

It was moments like this where you wished that he had just been a normal dragon that ate you instead.

Although, that did bring up something that you had been wondering about. Everyone had bid you farewell as you left the village and probably assumed you had died. You had no way to let them know that you were alive or that the dragon had agreed to protect them. What if they sent another woman up the mountain.

“Shit!”

You ran back into the mountain, determined to find Sylus. You needed to find a way to send a message to the village and do it fast. You were sprinting through the tunnels and eventually found him in your room.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked, out of breath.

“Getting some pants.” he said, tightening the drawstring that closed over the top of his tail.

“Why do keep pants in my room?”

“I need to keep them somewhere. Now why are you running about?”

“Right. I’m worried about the village.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “I promised I would defend them and defend them I shall. The bandits you are worried about are still far off so it will be some time before they are upon your village and you will actually need any defending. Why the concern?”

“I’m worried that because I haven’t been able to send word to the village that you accepted our deal that they may try to send another maiden.”

“Another?” his eye lighted, “That could be interesting.”

“No! You already agreed. You do not need more women!” you protested, forgetting for a moment that you were addressing a dragon.

“No? Are you worried about your position?” he stalked closer, pinning you against the wall with his presence alone. “Worried your master will not have use for you if another woman wandered these tunnels?” He tapped a claw under your chin, forcing your head up so you were staring straight into his eyes. The tip of claw stayed pointed on your chin, not breaking the skin but could be if a little more pressure was exerted.

The air around you was sweltering, you couldn’t suck in more than a wisp of a breath. The corner of his mouth cocked up in that damn half smile that you had become so familiar with over the last couple of days. “There’s nothing for you to fret over, my little wildfire. There’s far too little work to actually be done around here to justify having two servants. It would just make you both idle and then I may as well be letting you live here for nothing.”

“So you don’t want to accumulate a harem of beautiful young women to with as you please?” You were somewhat serious with the question.

He scoffed, “One of you humans is trouble enough. I don’t need more getting lost in the tunnels every other day.”

You wanted to argue that you didn’t get lost that often but you both knew it was a lie. “Rest assured, if someone comes they will be sent away. Does that please you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” When he stepped away his claw dragged lightly against the underside of your chin leaving a thin line of red that welled and dripped with blood and goosebumps that shivered down your arms.

[pastafossa]

"From A Squirt Gun, With Love" (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 5's prompt: water gun fight. It's also been a while since I've written for my favorite super soldier, so today's prompt is for Bucky Barnes! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! Side note, once I've got more these will all be edited a bit more and placed on my AO3, so if you lose one, just keep an eye out over there!

Ship: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: some suggestive dialogue and innuendo

You couldn’t afford another mistake. 

He’d been hunting you for at least an hour now, stalking you determinedly through the corridors of the compound and the manicured gardens outside. He’d already nailed you half a dozen times. And much to your disbelief, one of those times was because he’d somehow managed to find his way up into the air vents where he could track you unseen. You’d done your best to at least make it a challenge for him, relying on a variety of traps you’d managed to set up ahead of time, but it hadn’t done you as much good as you’d hoped, your hit count a measly two against his six. And now? Now you were running low on ammunition, and just as low on workable options. What was worse, he’d cornered you in the garage. You’d been able to tuck yourself beneath an SUV before he could see you, but there was only one exit—one currently being monitored by your annoyingly precise marksman of a boyfriend. 

You held your breath at the quiet scrape of heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete floor. If you had to guess, he was wandering around about two rows over and off to your left. He could have bent over and just scanned beneath the cars immediately, but he was enjoying this far too much to let it end that easily. He was toying with you, dragging things out now that he had you boxed in. 

“I know you’re in here, doll,” came his low chuckle. “Come on out, and I’ll go easy on you. Besides, you gotta be soaked by now, and not in the fun way. But I can change that for you if you want. All you gotta do is pop that pretty head up for me.”

Not a chance. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. 

You clutched your water gun tighter, checking the glowing tactical display—you hadn’t even known high-tech water guns existed until Bucky had dropped one into your hands with a grin. “If my girl wants a water gun fight, we’re gettin’ a water gun fight.” 

And what you saw wasn’t good. 

Shit. 

You were down to eighteen percent tank capacity. Anywhere else in the compound, you might have had a chance to reload with one of the buckets you’d both scattered around, but you’d forgotten to put one in the garage. If you didn’t get him with your next shot, you were done. 

“The fact that you’re not out here shootin’ at me like before tells me you’re low.” His voice sounded different now: higher up, and a bit more distant. Had he… climbed on top of the cars? “You need more practice. I’ll admit, I was proud of you when you got that ass shot in, but that ain’t happenin’ again. My turn to get your ass now, darlin’. You gonna give me what’s mine?”

You sucked your lower lip for a moment before carefully edging your way forward, water gun held in front of you just in case he decided to pull a horror movie move and drop into view. It wasn’t easy. The goddamn water gun was shaped more like a shotgun than a super soaker, clunky and a bitch to drag around. The upside was it had an automatic reload so you didn’t have to worry about making any noise while pumping the gun. Its range was good for a water gun, around twenty feet, but not good enough that you could shoot Bucky at distance. You’d need to get close.

One of the cars down the row creaked, tires groaning, presumably as your massive super soldier of a boyfriend strolled along the top of the cars like they were paving stones. That he wasn’t bothering to be silent was… unusual.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he purred, his voice growing fainter as he wandered down towards the other end of the garage. “Where’s my pretty girl gone?”

On the one hand, you enjoyed hearing that tone from him, playful and relaxed, warm and content. He’d grown pretty comfortable with you, open and affectionate, over the time you’d known him. That comfort, that openness with you had only blossomed further as your relationship had morphed into something romantic. But even so, it was still unusual for him to let go like this just so he could have fun. It was progress, and that knowledge filled your heart with a sparkling warmth. 

But you also couldn’t help but be the least bit suspicious, because it would be absolutely like him to use his voice and playful tone to distract you from something. 

You froze again when a pair of boots suddenly appeared on the concrete in front of you, landing without a sound—you’d been right; all the sound a minute ago had been to try to lure you out, make you think he was farther away than he really was. You didn’t dare move, not when the slightest sound might give you away. Slowly, the boots shifted on the concrete as he turned one way, and then the other. Waiting for you to make a run for it. 

But he’d taught you better than that. 

There was the softest, quietest little huff of amusement, or maybe pride, instead. But instead of heading off, he began to kneel. 

Shit, shit, shit—

He was going to duck down and look under the car. He knew you were here, he had to. He had to. Could you shift the angle of your water gun before he leaned down and saw you—

Fortunately for you, it became clear a second later that he was only lowering himself into a crouch. You stilled again in the shadows beneath the SUV, your gun still aimed cautiously at his legs.

Speaking of which, you had a really good view of his thighs at this angle. With him crouched the way he was, his thighs looked even thicker than usual, deliciously hard muscle covered in old denim. The round curve of his ass looked just as good where he filled out his jeans, though the dark splotch on the tight fabric made you grin. It was a testament to one of the only two shots you’d managed to hit him with. Sure, he’d shot you twice in the ass in retaliation, but it had been absolutely worth it. 

He settled onto the balls of his feet, rocking a little back and forth. You heard a soft whir, before his metal hand appeared in your view. Your heart skipped a beat, a droplet of maybe-water-maybe-sweat rolling down your temple. Only… his hand didn’t appear to be going for you like you’d expected. Instead, it slipped down to the concrete. One metal fingertip gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, it brushed lightly at the droplets of water drying on the concrete. 

Fresh droplets. 

From you. 

Crap. 

His head appeared beneath the SUV as he leaned over to meet your eye. Then he flashed you a feral grin. “Hi doll,” he said smugly. “Hi Bucky. I love you,” you said fondly, and shot him in the face. 

His head reared back as he spat out a curse, frantically swiping the water away from his face. It gave you just enough time for you to squirm out from under the SUV and take off down row between the cars, your sneakers slapping against the concrete, the wind blowing your hair back. If you could get to the door before he did, you could turn around and lock him in. It wouldn’t keep him here forever, but it might buy you a few minutes to reload. 

Based on the rapidly pounding footsteps behind you, though, you weren’t even going to get close. Not when it sounded like he was charging after you with every last bit of super-soldier-powered speed he had. You needed another plan, or else—

Something slammed hard against one of the cars behind you, startling you enough to make you stumble. In that brief moment of distraction, Bucky had vaulted himself up off the car and over your head. 

His broad form landed smoothly in front of you in one easy motion, dropping into a crouch. He rose slowly, powerful muscle gradually uncoiling inch by inch, until finally he loomed up over you, water gun held ominously in one hand. His pale eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils blown wide as he fixated on you: his prey. He took one prowling step forward, a flash of pink from his tongue as he lazily licked the droplets of water away from his mouth.

“You shot me,” he rumbled hungrily. “I should be mad. But damn, doll. That was hot.” “Hot enough to stop you from shooting me back?” you asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smirk, before firing a blast of cold water directly at your abdomen. You let out another shriek, turning to sprint away from him, a trail of damp footprints left behind. And if your shriek was half laughter, well, his playful growl was just as full of joy as he took off after you. 

[sweetimpurity]

Robin Hood: A quest for love and freedom

A Miguel O'hara Fairytale Chapter 1

Ever since the war started, the kingdom is in ruin and the King is far away. With no-one to protect them from the evil Sheriff taking over the throne. Who will save them? Will he be able to do it and preserve his love with the girl he's been dreaming about for a decade?

w.c. 5k masterlist

“It’s that Hood!” “Don’t let the Bastard get away!” The guards shout, chasing him through the castle halls and corridors. All this for a small sack of gold coin. A small sum that could change a poor village family’s life around. He’s been doing this for months. Since he got back from the war, the crusade. The seemingly endless trek with the promise of fortune only to be confronted with the stunning reality that the grail might not even be real in the first place. His loyalty to his king and country blinding him to harrowing truth. 

But he’s back now. Back in Nottingham. With a new mission, a new war. A determination to change the times. To steal from the rich and give to the poor!!

“Agh!” He grunts, climbing up into a castle window, overlooking the castle grounds, the ground far below coming into dizzying focus, his eyes on the towers across the way. It's a longshot but he’s made further jumps before in higher stakes than this. He can make the jump if he just- just-

“Stop him!!” A guard yells and they ascend on him like hounds running down the corridor from both ends. Their boots stomping and metal clanging. Armor and swords and a furious desperation to finally get their hands on him. Without a chance to think it through any further, he’s leaping across the open space, everything almost slowed, his long legs extending as if to push him further. To get him there. Guards watching in awe and horror as he makes it across. Like a flash of dark green, a shadow in the night, his silhouette whispering over the cobblestone in the moonlight. The top of the castle wall catching under his arms. He holds on with a grunt of pain at the stress on his muscles, grabbing onto the other side with all his might. His boots sliding over the stone and shoulders aching from the strain. Hanging onto the ledge of the opposing wall and pulling himself up. “You won’t get away so easily Robin!” One of them shouts through the window, watching him climb over the castle wall. He only chuckles, glancing back over his shoulder while still keeping his face concealed in shadow under his hat. No one’s seen his face, they only know the name. Robin Hood. If that’s even his real name at all. 

Then he’s gone. From what they can tell. Gone into the night of Sherwood forest most likely. “Send the dogs out! I want him caught tonight! Have them search the grounds!” The Captain shouts in anger. The guards rushing around, metal clanging and boots thumping on the stone floors. A mess of incoordination and desperation. And yet no Hood to present his ‘majesty’. The guards disperse, with the determination to find Robin in the edges of the forest. Even in the dark of night, they won’t give up, they know what happens if they don’t find the infamous outlaw soon.

…

“That could’ve been bad…” Miguel mumbles softly to himself, his usual sarcastic manner coming out even in the aftermath of trouble. Still hanging onto the edge of the wall. Staying up in the darkness where the light from their torches below doesn’t even reach the soles of his boots. He looks down, watching the hounds scouring the grass and the tree line. Countless guards fanning the area. Miguel shakes his head at their stupidity, their utter foolishness. Just waiting until the guards think he’s gone into the forest. Pulling himself up, looking over the edge of the wall and seeing it’s clear. Hoisting himself back over, he balances on the edge of the castle wall. His nimbleness and flexibility allowed him to walk across the stone like a tightrope. He walks carefully to the end, where the wall connects to the next tower over, stabilizing himself with his hands. Grabbing an arrow from his quiver and jabbing it into a crack in the stonework. Making sure it’s stable before pushing himself up and using it as a step to the windowsill. Holding onto the stone that outlines the opening in the wall. He pops his head in, looking both ways. 

If he can just get to the top of the east tower then he’ll have a clear shot to climb down to the forest and hopefully avoid all that mess down there. He’ll spend less time on the castle green where the hounds might be searching and guards lurking. And the castle seems much less crowded with all the guards looking for him outside. He stealthily climbs stairs and walks down hallways, admiring the portraits on the walls, the treasures lining the place, so lavish, so rich. 

He walks to the end of a corridor, catching a portrait of King Richard on the wall. The rightful King. Not that greedy Sheriff who thinks he’s royalty. The Sheriff who’s raising taxes every chance he gets and bleeding this kingdom dry. He looks down at the sack of gold pieces in his hand. It’s the first time he’s managed to steal directly from the castle. He’s been stealing from that blasted old Sheriff for months. Taking from his wagons as they travel through the woods, distracting his men and trapping them in the forest, taking the gold and riches that were stolen with the intent of giving it back to the victim it was taken from. The King would never let his kingdom go to ruin. But the King isn’t here. If he were, these people wouldn’t be starving and dying in the village. He’s seen children, the elderly, pregnant desperate women needing food, needing clothes. Many of their husbands, fathers, and brothers died in the war. He’s one of the lucky ones that managed to come back home. Many never made it back. But he’s come back to this. A dying kingdom, a greedy bastard thinking he can take the throne just because it’s empty. His actions have earned him the title of wanted criminal. A bounty on his head and a poster with his alias on it. 

There’s noise at the other end of the hallway. Without a second thought, he’s gone. Flipping up the dark hood of his phthalo cloak, turning the corner, he’s out of view. And he’s got to get out of here while he still can. Moving faster now. Not wanting to spend a minute longer in this trap. He climbs some stairs to a new hallway and finds a door. Feeling the breeze of air through the crack with his fingers, knowing there must be an open window or something inside. He quietly sneaks his way through and finds open doors on the other side of the room, open to a balcony. Drapes billowing in the breeze. The forest thereafter. A clean escape. 

He doesn’t even look around the bedroom he's passing through as he rushes through to the balcony doors. Pushing them open more and the night air hits his face. The smell of the forest, so familiar, and not those perfumes and oils that castle is pumped full of. He marches across the balcony and to the edge, hoping he’ll get down and back to camp in one piece. He happens to glance back and he-

“Miguel…?”

Across the balcony. 

Time seems to stop as he sees you. Hears you. Is his heart that hopeful? Is his mind so tortured by your memory that it would taunt him with visions? Are his senses so depleted of your presence that his ears make up the song of your voice? But there you stand, the light of the moon glowing through the fabric of your nightgown, through the abundance of your hair. Across your cheek. Is this a memory? Is this a cruel joke? He’s dreamt of nothing but you and now here you are at last.

But you’re different now. You’re not the little girl he remembers. When he too was a young boy. Two kids together. No. You’re grown. You’re all grown up and stunningly beautiful. The kind of beauty that would bring a mourning dove to song if only for your ears to enjoy. The kind of beauty that brings angels to sweet sugary tears. 

He takes a tentative step forward, as if you make sure you’re not a puff of smoke, a figment of his desperate imagination. But you start walking closer too. One step, then another, two more and you’ve crossed the distance into his arms. He’s stunned, shocked by the warmth of your embrace. He’s thought of only you for a decade. “Hah…” He sighs in relief, melting into your arms. Could this really be happening?

“You’re alive…” Your voice is a heavy hushing whisper next to his ear. 

“You’re beautiful…” He whispers into your shoulder, his lips pressing to the bare skin there. His dark eyes watching his fingertips graze over your skin. So soft, so warm, so here and real; holding you like a most precious perfect specimen. Like pure beauty blown in glass. 

He pulls back to look in your eyes. Only now does he really believe this is real. That he’s seeing you again after all this time. His arms around you, fingers coming to caress your cheek and he just can’t help himself. He’s dreamt of this for so long, too long. His lips meet yours. Crashing into you with the need of a man deprived. A man starved and thirsty. A kiss that would erupt over many kingdoms and countries, it would shake the ground with its passion, its connection, its need, desperation. A kiss that would be felt around the Earth five times over. His arms slide down your back, pulling you in more, only slightly off the ground with your toes just touching the floor, his eager tongue delving into your soft perfect mouth. Is he even worthy of tasting such precious perfection? Yet you taste so sweet, sweeter than any of the times he dreamt of you. He swallows down your gasps, your hitched needy breaths, feeling your delicate fingers digging into his back; soothing you, holding you. He’ll never let you go again. 

“I want him dead!” The Sheriff shouts from his throne. Well it’s not actually his but he’s sitting in it. His death black robes clinging to his calves, a pout on his face, gems decorating his fingers cast in gold. Gold and jewels that don’t belong to him. “I want his head and I want it warm!” 

“I know sir, we’ll get the Hood next time for you, sir, we just need a bit more time.” The guard Captain bows his head in fear and reverence. “-I’ve given you enough time. He dares to defy me- steal from me and you do what? Nothing!” He growls, pacing across the throne room floor. “I have enough to do as it is, I don’t need some… some ghost stealing what’s rightfully mine! And making a damn fool of me!!” He frowns almost like a child. His robes hitting his feet as he huffs, sitting back down in his throne. Crossing his arms and pouting. “And the bastard won’t even show his face! Some phantom determined to ruin my plans!” He knocks a pitcher of wine off the table next to him. The crimson liquid pooling on the stone floor, like spilled blood swirling and dribbling down the uneven cobblestone. 

“Don’t force me to make an example out of you. Captain.” He drawls, pointing his finger at the man, an evil glint in his eye. The Captain gulps, feeling an uneasy sense of dread. “I have no issue with public execution. Unlike our good old King.” He glares at the stained glass decorating the throne room. The red and purple hues, oranges and yellows glowing in the moonlight. Greens, blues, teals, cascading on the floor like water in the stream. An image depicting King Richard, who is at this moment halfway across the continent still on a hunt for the evading holy grail as the war rages on, shown with his family. His siblings, his parents, his cousins. You. His last living cousin. The Sheriff’s only option. An evil one at that. 

The Sheriff bellows, grabbing his gauntlet of wine and throwing it at the stained glass window. Glass shards shattering and clinking on the cobblestone. Echoing off the walls, ringing loud against everyone’s eardrums. Breaking the glass to bits, blowing a big hole in the image. The guards in the room gasp and the Captain takes cover from the falling glass overhead. Purified moonlight streams in through the shatter, lighting the Sheriff's face in an evil white light.

“JUST GET ME THAT ROBIN HOOD AND GET HIM NOW!!!”

“Th-this… you-” You stutter and sigh, unable to believe what you’re seeing. What you’re feeling. The last time you saw him he was 15. You were 14 and tearfully saying goodbye as you were sent away for schooling across the continent. You wanted to stay. You wanted to marry him. As a teenager you knew. Even as a little girl you knew in your heart. From running in the blackberry fields to swimming in the nearby streams, spending everyday with each other growing up, even if you're parents may have disapproved of you spending so much time with a peasant boy, as a lady of royal blood. To be separated from him was like ripping the sun of its warmth. By the time you returned at 18 he had already gone off to the war. He was expected to be a man. Fight for King and country. You were the King’s cousin and expected to be a lady, go to church, continue the royal bloodline. But you’d both taken pieces of each other’s hearts. Your heart was broken those long 10 years ago. “I know…” He whispers, keeping his hands on your shoulders, your cheeks. Any place he can keep touching you. Feeling you.

“I thought you were dead” You practically sob and his heart snaps at the sound of your voice. The look in your eyes. “I-I thought… I mourned you” You could cry. You’re nearly crying already. “I know- I know, I’m sorry…” He whispers, fearing anything louder than a hush would rupture your aching heart, wanting to explain, it wasn’t his intention to keep his return a secret. And he wanted to find you but wasn’t sure you’d still be here. That you’d remember him like he remembers you. 

“I’ve been back just a few months now… I’m back, I'm here now…” He whispers, trying to soothe your broken heart.  “This… is what you’ve been doing? Robin Hood…” You cry, tears brimming and threatening to spill over. He’s been back and you’ve thought him dead for years. Mostly everyone died in the war. Or was taken prisoner. You take a look at what he’s wearing, the quiver on his back. He’s the outlaw that everyone has been talking about. The criminal the Sheriff is hellbent on putting down. “I-I had to… the kingdom. It’s in ruin, my love… it’s all ruined, people are dying and it’s all his fault…” He explains, wiping your tears away with his thumb, looking right in your eyes, his words like a prophecy. “I can’t just stand by and watch. And once the Sheriff caught onto me I… I had to disappear. That’s when the alias arose…” He whispers, watching your face contort in emotion at his explanation. He wishes things could be different. 

“It’s been so long…” You whimper, leaning into his hand on your cheek. “Why didn’t you come for me?” 

“I wanted to, my love, mi amor, but I... didn’t know you’d be here, I thought you’d be… far from this place.” He whispers. He thought you’d be gone and married by now. With children and a husband for him to envy. Your children should be his children, your husband, he should be. 

“I thought you’d forgotten me” He admits, an urgency in his voice, met with the despair and heartbreak written all over your beautiful features. “I’d never have forgotten you!” You cry, more of a protest than anything, shaking your head as if to refuse reality. “I’ve thought of only you in your absence…” You confess, taking his breath away. 

“The Sheriff he- he’s after the throne, he’s taking over the castle.”

“I know… I know.” He nods, trying earnestly to understand your desperate ramblings. “But the King-” 

“My cousin is too far… too unreachable…” You sigh, speaking through the tears. “The Sheriff has too much power already. The guards listen to everything he says. I even think the priest is on his side.” 

He listens to you explain. All that’s gone on. All you’ve been through.

“I’ve been locking myself away in here. Only leaving when I must. He’s kept some distance and my ladies in waiting have been keeping me safe for some time but… I fear he’ll get too comfortable. He thinks he’s King already.”

“Oh, my love…” Miguel wraps you up in his arms, holding you close and listening to every word, wanting to wipe away every tear, take away every ounce of pain. To think the Sheriff’s has been practically keeping you prisoner in your own home, weaponizing your fear. It makes his blood boil with anger and hatred. His heart hammer with the need to protect you, defend you from this abuse. That must be why he hasn’t heard one peep about you. He’d have known you were in Nottingham. If he’d known sooner, he would have come. “It’s okay now… I’ll help you, we’ll do whatever necessary.” He whispers into your hair, his arms wrapping you up in such a safe and secure embrace.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you…” He whispers, his hand running up your back and gently holding the back of your neck. Your body seems to mold to his like soft fine clay, his fingers brushing against your warm skin, arms wrapping around your body. It’s amazing for him to see you this way. A woman. All grown up now.

“You’re so tall…” You smile and pull back to take a look at him, a sight that takes his breath away once more. He looks down at you, smiling himself. “You’ve grown more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.” 

Your heart soars at his words. To know that he’s remembered the pure, innocent, yet true love you shared as kids, then teenagers, only to be ripped apart. To have found one another again and feel the same way. Only love true as this could last. 

You pull back a bit to look up at him. He’s grown. He’s a man now. Not the boy you once loved, but a man. He’s still got that boyish smile, a lopsided one with those soft brown eyes, so familiar. As if the sight is ingrained into your very heart. It’s almost as if no time has passed at all. You still feel just as comfortable, just as familiar. He feels like home. 

His shoulders have broadened, his jaw, chin and nose sharp and handsome. His arms feel thick and strong around your back, his chest feels firm under your hands. His hair curling up slightly by his ears, just like it was when he was 15. 

“Oh, won’t you stay? I don’t… I don’t want to be apart from you…” You whisper, leaning into him again, looking up into those eyes. The eyes that have you fawning all over again. “I don’t want to be apart from you either, love. I don’t think my heart could withstand it.” He says.

Your hands slip into his, fingers intertwining, like your souls lacing back up. Like the stars aligning in the sky, everything in their rightful place once again. “I can’t bear your heart being far from mine…” He whispers, his nose brushing up against yours, the night breeze rustling through the trees off the balcony and through your hair. 

He kisses you once more. The little girl inside of you squealing with glee. This is the boy you fell in love with and he’s alive. He’s back after all this time. 

��

“...so I escaped and somehow made my way back home…” He finishes explaining. The two sitting on the balcony floor, side by side on the stone, under the moonlight. Discussing his time in the war, then as a prisoner and his efforts to return in one piece. Going over all that's happened since you've seen each other last. “How did you ever bear it? I can’t imagine how hard that must have been…” 

“We lost many good men… A few of them managed to come back with me. The battle was hard but dreaming of you was much more difficult to bear. I always wanted to return. I always knew I needed to be with you.” He says, making you smile, his fingertips gently stroking the back of your hand. “Then I saw what the Sheriff was doing in the King’s absence and I couldn’t just stand by. I knew the villagers would have no one to protect them with half the army and the King still away searching for that damned grail.”

“I begged my cousin not to leave. I told him the kingdom would be in ruin. That we needed him more than ever. But he thought the grail would be the answer to our prayers.” He listens to you explain, his eyes scanning over your pretty face. A small smile on his lips as he admires your features. A feeling of nostalgia deep in his heart. His fingers coming up to brush some hair behind your ear. “He thought it would end the war, it would end disease and illness, and it would bring back peace. But all this has brought is pain and suffering.” You say, thinking back on the past year. When your cousin left to find the grail and hopefully end the war. Then the Sheriff got too comfortable in the empty role. 

“The Sheriff thinks he can be King. I don’t know how he’ll do it but he’ll find a way.” You sigh. Miguel’s expression hardens. Knowing they have to be careful. If the Sheriff is going around Nottingham with some twisted plan, he won’t just stop if asked nicely. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.” He nods, squeezing your hand gently. 

It’s quiet for a moment. The breeze in the sway of the trees. The sounds of the night in the forest. It’s like the first moment of peace for both of you in years. Holding each other. Sitting beside each other once more. “So… Robin Hood? What’s the meaning behind that name?” You smile, leaning in closer.

“Oh…well…” He chuckles, smiling bashfully. “I must say it is an impressive hood.” You tease, reaching over his shoulders and lifting the dark green material over his head. Watching the shadow cascade over his smiling face. “Thank you…” He grins, his hands coming to your wrists as you hold onto the edges of his cowl. “And I suppose you are robbing… Robin.” You figure out. Pulling back the hood just a bit so you can see his eyes, the way they sparkle in the moonlight. “Robin Hood.” You whisper, his thumbs caressing the inside of your palms, his eyes completely captivated by your beautiful face and your smile. This still feels like a dream. Like he’ll wake up any minute and be back on the battlefield thousands of miles away. 

“I am in love with you…” He sighs, a half hum, leaning forward slightly with that same boyish grin on his face. Watching your face as you giggle and blush at his sudden confession. Although you already knew it to be true. “You are?” You tease, pulling on his hood just slightly to bring him closer. “Yes… hopelessly… helplessly.” He whispers.

His nose brushes yours, lips ghosting just across yours too, so soft and gentle. “Wonderfully… desperately…” He whispers against your lips, turning his head and tilting it, as if to find the perfect angle to kiss your perfect lips. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling so calm and peaceful, allowing his lips to find yours at the exact right moment, not a second later or before. His lips pressing to yours with the smallest amount of pressure, a whisper of a kiss. That sends a chill down your arms and your back, a flush to your cheeks, heat through your body. From then on, he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, moving down to your jaw. It’s the first time you’ve ever been kissed in such a way. His head tilting slowly into your neck and leaving chaste kisses below your ear. The night breeze blowing past your cheek, feeling so weakened by his touch, desperate for more. For all of him.

One of his hands comes to the other side of your face, cradling your cheek and tilting your chin back with his nose, pressing kisses up the column of your throat. The girl of his dreams, in his arms again. 

“Maid y/n…” A voice calls from inside the room, beyond the curtains that billow in the breeze, the only cover the two of you have. Miguel instantly draws back from your neck, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of your neck protectively, his eyes trained on the curtains, the candlelight behind them. “Are you alright? You’re not in bed…” It’s one of your ladies. Someone you trust but not enough to see Miguel here. For someone to find out the Hood's true identity. “Yes, I’m fine. Just fine, thank you… just breathing in some fresh air…” You say before she can come out onto the balcony to check. You both watch the light flickering inside. The flame from the candle she’s holding. Hoping by God’s will she won’t venture onto the balcony to check. After a moment, the light flickers and disappears as the woman leaves your room. His arms relaxing from their tense and coiled position. He looks back at you. 

“Won’t you come with me? I have a safe place… in the forest. Completely safe for you… for us…” He whispers, knowing he’s risking everything to stay here longer. His fingers caress the side of your face with pure love and affection. He wants to keep that promise to himself and to you. That he won’t allow you into danger if he can help it. He’ll protect you from harm. He’ll get you out of here. He’ll marry you. You’ll run away, find a safe place far from here. He’ll fill you up with so much love and care, you’ll both be bursting with true love and children. Symbols of your everlasting love. This is his promise to you.

“I don’t think it's wise. If I go, the Sheriff will notice and we’ll lose what little control we still have. I don’t want to leave the people with him. They deserve more.” You explain and he nods, fully understanding and admiring your nurturing soul and courage to do the right thing even if it proves difficult or painful. Your loyalty to the kingdom and her citizens matches his own. “But I will come to you tomorrow night… I promise.” He whispers, nodding in sincerity. Cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll be here…” You smile, heart overflowing. You both rise off the floor.

“Stay safe, my love…” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then a slow soft peck on your lips. His arms wrap around your waist, slowly walking backwards towards the edge of the balcony with you in his arms. “Just a little while longer and everything will be right again.” He wants nothing more than to take you away from this place. Sleep with you in his arms, finally make love to you for the very first time after years of desperation. But soon everything will be right once more. He has to keep believing that. 

“Stay safe yourself… please.” You whisper, feeling him let go and sit on the edge of the balcony, getting ready to climb down and return to the forest. He turns around, expertly finding his footing and starting to climb down the edge of the balcony. His hands and feet lodged in the stones, ready to climb down. But his heart doesn’t want to leave yet. “Sweet dreams, my love… mi amor…” He whispers with a smile. You lean down to kiss him. The big, golden, low hanging moon shining right through the space between your lips until it’s smothered out by their union. Each kiss you share feels as if it could shake the ground, level this corrupted castle in an instant. You don’t want to but you pull back, smiling down at him and seeing that lopsided grin once more. He’s a dream come true in every sense of the saying. 

“I love you…” You hum, watching him start to climb down. “I love you too…” He says, getting a bit further down but still looking up at you, watching your figure back lit by the light of the moon. “I love you unconditionally…” You say, teasing him lovingly. “I love you endlessly…” He says, climbing further down the tower wall and playing into your little competition. 

“I love you breathlessly…”

“I love you absolutely…” 

“I love you infinitely…” 

“I love you perpetually…” 

“I love you forever…” You say and see him finally reach the ground. Watching him step back across the grass below. He can only just barely hear your voice now but he caught every word. “I love you forever.” He echos, looking up at you. Pretty, perfect you all the way up in that tower. He walks backwards towards the tree line, keeping his eyes on you the whole way, blowing you a kiss before he disappears into the shadows of Sherwood forest. Only love true as this could last. 

to be continued...

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter let me know! thanks for reading! 🍬❤︎ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 15

FIFTEEN: Test of a Broken Heart

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x READER

Summary: You return to the row house for something that you forgot, but find more than what you bargained for.

cw: MDNI- 18+ ONLY, dark themes, profanity, angst, violence, descriptions of violent acts, allusions to sex trafficking and SA- threatened not committed, blood/gore, implied death of a character

(Notes: MIND THE TAGS! 🚨☝️☝️☝️🚨 You've been warned. Read at your own risk!)

mdni banner: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER 15

-

"You never know what's in a person's heart until they're tested, do you?”

― Fannie Flagg, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

-

Your bags banging against Simon's front gate, you hold tight to Fiona's hand as she hurries down the walk.

Your heart is a flailing, mangled thing that seems determined to break free of its cage. You clutch at it as you stumble along after her, too shell-shocked to muster a coherent thought. Tears welling, you allow yourself to be led, not really caring where she takes you now.

Fiona mutters curses under her breath all the way back to her car, then circles you both 'round to the boot to toss in your bags.

"Don't worry, Dee. We'll come back for the rest of your stuff later."

You nod, complacent, until you recall that there is something that you can't leave without.

"Nan's recipe box," you mutter, eyes darting back to Simon's open front door.

Fiona glances up, frowning. "Wha's that, ya say?"

Anxious, you grip her forearm. "I have to go back. I left my nan's recipe box."

Fi shakes her head. "'S not a good idea, luv. We'll come back for it tom—"

"No! I don't care about the rest of my stuff, but I can't leave that behind. It's all I've got left of Nan."

Before Fi can stop you, you turn and run back to the row house, ignoring her urgent pleas for you to come back. Entering the dark foyer, you chance a quick glimpse up the stairs as you hurry towards the kitchen, trying and failing not to think about what Simon and Peach are doing up there. It feels like an axe cleaving your heart in two, the sense of betrayal weighing heavy, slowing you down.

You thought you meant something to him. Maybe not like a girlfriend, but something more significant than a bloody housekeeper!

The thought gets your ire up, gets your blood pumping.

"You and your slag can both fuck off," you mutter to yourself as you reach for the old chocolate tin that holds all of your nan's hand-written recipes.

You keep it atop the refrigerator, so you have to stand on your tippy-toes to reach it. Ri used to—no, sorry for the mistake—Simon used to get it down for you, but he's too busy shagging his American tart to be bothered with the likes of you. The heartless prick.

Grr! For a little bit you'd march upstairs and bang on his bedroom door to interrupt them, just to be a petty bitch. Of course, you won't; couldn't bear it, to be honest. From the thumping and bumping going on above your head right now, they probably wouldn't hear you anyway, the manky twats.

With a strained grunt, you finally scoot the tin close enough to the edge to grab hold and pull it down. Huffing out an angry breath, you turn and stomp back to the kitchen door, shoving your way through it, not caring if they hear you anymore.

Another thump sounds above your head and you cast a venomous glare at the ceiling. What the bloody hell are they doing up there? Are they shagging or beating the shite out of each other? Ugh! You hope they get stuck together like a couple of humping dogs. Would serve them both right!

Feeling nauseous, you hurry past the staircase, grimacing in disgust. It's when you reach the front door that you are finally able to hear Peach screeching. She must be putting on a hell of a show. However, it's what she screams that brings you up short. You only catch the tail end of it, but it's enough to stop you in your tracks.

"...gutted him like a fuckin' pig!"

What the fuck?!

You literally jump when you hear another loud thud as Simon roars something back that's unintelligible. You stare, agape, up the flight of stairs.

Christ, are they actually trying to kill each other?

There's more loud thumping and banging about, while Peach shrieks like a banshee. The sound turns your blood to ice water in your veins, chilling you to the bone. Simon bellows again, then you hear a heavy thud that literally rattles the house.

Oh, Jesus!

Scurrying up the stairs, you can hear Peach talking and Simon grunting, but not in a sexy, getting shagged sort of way. No, he definitely sounds like he's in pain. A lot of pain. Frozen in shock, you stand outside his closed bedroom door and listen.

"...knew ya were playin' me. Ya think I'm stupid?! I heard ya on the phone, ya dipshit. Poor Si, all worried over his pathetic little doll."

You jerk back, shocked at her words. There's a pause of silence after, followed by another pained grunt from Simon, then Peach let's out an evil chuckle.

"Ooh! That's gotta hurt, huh?" A maniacal cackle bursts out. "Oops! Think I might'a nicked an artery, big guy. You're makin' such an awful bloody mess. Maybe I'll go get Deedee to clean it up. Think she could stomach it?"

You feel every hair on your body stand on end. You're too afraid to even breathe.

"You... stay away... from her!" Simon pants out in a furious but pained growl.

"Or what? You gonna try and stop me?" She scoffs out a derisive laugh. "I'm gonna watch you bleed out like the fuckin' pig you are, then I'm gonna hunt your little bitch down and bleed her dry, too! But I'm gonna take my time with her."

"I'll fuckin' kill ya... if ya... touch her!"

Terrified, you hear what sounds like someone using a side of meat as a punching bag, accompanied by more of Simon's pained grunts.

She's hurting him! She said he's bleeding! You've got to do something before she kills him!

Your eyes rove around the hallway, but there's nothing of use but some framed art prints hanging on the walls. You could bash her over the head with one, but you doubt it would do much damage. You need something more lethal than a cheap Van Gogh print in a plastic frame.

Darting into your room, you feverishly glance around in search of some sort of weapon.

A book? No.

A potted plant? Better, but still not good enough...

Aha! A pair of scissors on your desk catches your eye, and you snatch them up. You can't think about what you'll have to do with them in order to save Simon. If you do, you'll hesitate, then you and Simon both are doomed. Peach is a soldier just like Simon—a trained killer. You'll get only one shot at this. You fail, you both will probably die.

Not paying attention, you're hurry towards the hallway, only to catch your toe on an antique door stop sitting next to the open doorway. Pain radiates out from your stubbed toe as you hobble sideways, biting your tongue to hold in the curse words ready to burst out of your mouth.

Christ, that hurt!

You glare down at the offending hunk of iron, wanting to pick it up and hurl it at the wall, at least until a better idea of what to do with it suddenly pops into your head.

Picking it up, you heft it in your hand to test its weight, then creep out into the hallway and slowly open Simon's door.

-

Simon is barely conscious, his blood pooling in an ever-widening circle underneath him.

Peach got him good, stabbing him first in the shoulder, which incapacitated his dominant arm, then landed a jab on his inner thigh when he charged at her. She's given him several more little pokes with his blade since he went down, but those two are the worst. From the amount of blood he losing, she may very well have nicked his femoral artery, just as she suspected, which means it won't take long for him to bleed out.

Ironically, it's the drugs she roofied him with that probably slowed down his heart rate enough to slow down the flow of blood. That's not going to save him, though. He needs to take her down, before he's too weak to move at all. He blinks, shakes his head like a wet dog. He's got to stay awake.

Peach is standing over him, admiring her handiwork after flipping on the overhead light. She's taunting him, babbling out insults that he ignores, at least until she mentions you. A new burst of adrenaline floods his system, but it's too little, too late. His limbs feel like they're made of lead. He can only manage a fumbling swipe that misses its mark. Seething, he slumps back against the wall.

"You... stay away... from her!"

Eyes that shine with madness squint down to glittering slits as she smirks at him.

"Aww," she pouts in mock sympathy. "Still tryin' to fight, even to your last breath. How heroic. It must be tearin' ya up inside, imagining what I'm gonna do to her, huh?"

Simon shuts his eyes to block her out. She won't get to you. Price and Ollie will see to that.

"She's got ya all tied up in knots, doesn't she? Who'd uh thunk it, you fallin' for a pathetic little thing like her." She shakes her head and giggles. "Maybe I'll sell her to the Russian mafia instead of slitting her throat, like I planned. She can be their new sex toy. Bet they'd enjoy eatin' up a sweet little piece of meat like her. Wish you weren't dyin', big guy. I'd love to make you watch what they'll do to her."

Sick fuckin' bitch. If he could, he'd crush her fuckin' skull like a walnut and enjoy the fuck out of it. Simon grits his teeth and keeps his eyes closed, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

A hard slap sets his bare cheek on fire, waking up his deadened senses. He glares up at her and snarls.

Peach scoffs out a laugh. "Come off it, big guy. I've been watchin' you two for awhile. Ya went soft for her, didn't ya? And you're not even gettin' any pussy from her!" She giggles. "Thought that ya were bangin' her until I trailed ya to that whore in Soho. Gotta say, big guy, it's kinda fucked up that ya pay to fuck a whore that looks like her."

Simon's ready to end this. He's getting weaker by the second and soon he won't be able to move at all. He'll go for her legs, take her down and hope he's got the strength to snap her fuckin' neck. If not, he'll have to rely on Price to take her down. He sends up a silent prayer to whatever god or demon is listening that Ollie keeps his doll safe until Price gets the job done.

Damn, I wasted so much time. I coulda been wiff her, but 'm a bloody coward. Give anythin' just t'see her again. My pretty li'l doll...

Simon thinks his dying brain must be conjuring up hallucinations of his sweet girl, because there you are, standing right behind Peach and fuck! Do you look pissed.

"Think ya've about had it, big guy. You're startin' to fade out on me." She leans down and pats his pale cheek. "Don't worry, though. I'll make sure you're good and dead before you're buried this time. No more do-overs, asshole."

Simon smiles, oblivious to her. He only has eyes for his doll. He wishes you'd smile at him, too. He loves your smile...

He tilts his head, confused, when he sees you raise your arm above your head and draw it back. You've got something in your hand. It looks like that butt ugly door stop you found at an estate auction a few weeks ago. He made fun of it the whole way home, told you it looked like some sort of deranged toad with those ridiculous googly eyes glued onto its face.

Peach sneers at his amused expression. "What's the matter, Ghost man? No last words? Cat got your tongue?"

He grunts out a raspy laugh. "Not a... cat," he chuckles, barely above a whisper. "It's a... deranged... toad."

Peach draws back, a look of confusion puckering her forehead. "Deranged toad?" she giggles. "What the fu—?"

Simon let's his eyes drift shut. That's when he hears it, a sound like an egg shell cracking under a boot heel. Crunch! He twitches when he feels warm, sticky drops splatter across his face. Peach makes a weird gurgle in the back of her throat then goes blessedly silent as her body crumples to the floor. Distantly, he hears you grunt, then the soft, wet squelch of penetration.

That's my girl. Your perfume wafts up his nose like a sweet breath of heaven as you fall to your knees beside him, panting.

"Ri? Open your eyes!"

(thump-thump)

Ahh! That sweet voice. Fuckin' love the sound of your voice, even when you're yellin' at me. You must still be pissed at him. 'M so sorry, doll, but I did it to protect ya...

"Ri! Wake up!"

(thump-thump)

He relishes the feel of your soft hands on his scarred skin. They're soft as petals and so warm. Feels like sunshine on my face. Christ, when did it get so bloody cold?

"Ri—love, please..."

(thump-thump)

Shh... Why you cryin', sweet'art? Please don't cry...

"Don't leave me, Ri! Oh, God! Please... SOMEBODY HELP!!!"

(thump... thump)

Hate it...

(thump... ... thump)

when you...

(thump... ... thump)

cry...

(thump... ... ... thump)

doll...

(... thump—)

-

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[ivysprophecy]

Am I Okay? Chapter Three

summary: in part twelve rafe mentions a work party and i took that as an invitation to dive into how they interact and think about each other a bit more from rafes perspective!

word count: 1295

a/n: I KNOW I POSTED THIS CHAPTER PREVIOUSLY, it had some mistakes i wanted to fix that i just relaized. also im not saying this is the most accurate portrayal of rafe however its how im using it for the story and i really hope this doesnt suck as much as i think it does! also im so sorry for how long its been since ive written, i shouldve put out a hiatus notice but tbh im not entirely sure im back. well see how it goes lol. thank you for reading!

this shouldnt feel as daunting as it does right now. shes just a friend. its just a dinner party, theres no commitments attached or technicalities to worry over. its just me and her making a boring evening more exciting.

thats all.

i knock on the door and wait patiently for her to answer. i did come a bit early so i wouldnt be surprised if she was still getting ready. she has a tendency to get swept up in the music shes listening to when shes at her vanity.

but as soon as she opens that door and i turn to see her... i suddenly forgot all the convincing i was doing, cause i know after tonight theres gonna be no more hiding just how into her i am. she looks incredible.

it does something to me knowing its the dress i bought her.

"hi," thats all she says and i swear i forgot how to breathe. how does she do this to me?

"hey," my smile widens, "you look... gorgeous. really, you look great."

"cant take all the credit, the dress was all your doing. im just wearing it."

"and you wear it beautifully," just like that, a natural blush replaces the artificial pink on her cheeks "we should get going, are you ready or do you need more time? i can wait."

"i think im ready..." she searches through her purse, going over its contents making sure she has everything. "yep, im ready."

"perfect," i close the door behind her as she walks out, "its a little jarring to see you without your boots."

she chuckles as i open  the car door for her, "i tried to clean up as nice as i could."

"you clean up just fine cowgirl," i cant hide my smile.

the drive to the event was that comfortable kind of quiet. i always let her take aux when we drive together. country music definitely isnt my favorite but she could play a lot worse. besides she throws in the occasional kid cudi or metro boomin for me.

shes thoughtful like that. 

"oh theres valet? how fancy," the valet opens her door for her before i can even get out of the car. i suppose thats his job.

"thats kinda how these things go. theyre a bit much."

"well i think its refreshing being so spoiled. dads done a lot of fancy business but nothing like this. its fun."

taking her hand, i lead her up the stairs into the building, "ill spoil you as much as you want cowgirl. all you have to do is ask."

"youre such a sweet talker city boy. for someone who, supposedly, is a serial bachelor youre an absolute flirt."

"nah, i only flirt with you," i tell her, truthfully. part of me said it to see her all flustered but really there isnt a point in lying about it.

i know everyones got me figured out already, the guys and their girls are better gossipers than the real housewives. not that id know anything about the real housewives. i definitely dont watch that shit. 

"thats exactly what im talking about," shes giggling as we walk into the giant room filled to the brim with investors, partners, staff, clients, a bunch of people i really want to avoid. i was about to lead her over to the bar when we run into someone conveniently.

her father. that i work with. awesome. i knew hed be here, but i thought it might be possible to avoid him.

"cameron! thought i wouldnt be able to catch you tonig- y/n? pumpkin what are you doing here?"

"dad! were in public could you maybe not call me that-"

i let a smile peak through, "pumpkin?" its just too easy to tease her.

"rafe," she sends me a warning, and you know she means business when she uses my ‘government name’ as she likes to call it. i throw my hands up in defense jokingly.

"its good to see you y/l/n," i reach out to shake her dads hand, "i invited her, hoping a friendly face would make the night more barrable. i hope thats alright with you."

"nah its good for her. she needs to get out more. i trust youll take care of her."

"dad!" she raises her tone while keeping a hushed voice, "dont talk about me like im not here. please."

"you kids have fun tonight," her dad wraps an arm around her before pressing a small kiss to her temple before shaking my hand again, "good to see you rafe. take care of my little girl."

i nod with a smile as he walks away, heading over to a table of some other clients i recognize.

"unbelievable! rafe im so sorry that was embarrassing. he doesnt know how to act normal. i shouldnt let him out of the house. i need to put him in a home."

"cowgirl, youre rambling. its fine, i get it. hes a dad its his job to embarrass you a little. besides, pumpkin, i thought it was endearing," theres a smirk on my face as i mention the nickname.

she rolls her eyes leading the way back to the bar like we intended in the first place. leaning against the bar she tells the bartender her order and mine, already knowing id like a whiskey.

how am i not supposed to like this girl so much when she knows me so well? i dont care if we come from two completely different backgrounds. a part of me knows this is the girl for me. if im deserving? thats a different conversation…

taking our drinks off the counter i lead her over to our table for the night, pulling out her seat for her to sit when suddenly i see some investors walking my way.

i knew id have to work a little tonight but it doesnt stop me being disappointed from being pulled away from her. 

the night goes on, i introduce her to a few of the people i know better than others, but i give her the chance to mingle when she wants too. shes so well spoken and holds her own well.

shes mesmerizing.

at one point, i return from the restroom, and when i come back i see that one of the investors sons is making conversation with her. a particularly annoying one at that. hes far too close to her for my liking, touching her arm subtly, desperately trying to make her laugh. but i can see shes only doing it to be polite.

i step up right beside her, my hand naturally falling to the small of her back, innocently of course.

"jared! good to see you man, your dad let you come?"

theres nothing i love to see more than his confidence falter. he needed to be put in his place, what can i say? im just happy i was the one to get to do it.

"something like that. it was good seeing you rafe. nice meeting you...?" he smiled in her direction, asking for one more chance silently, i couldnt contain my laughter.

"have a nice night jared. tell your dad ill see him at mondays meeting," and with that i lead her away in the direction of our table.

"you didnt have to be so rude to him you know?"

"cowgirl, that was hardly rude of me. i was doing him a favor."

she plasters on an offended face, pretending to clutch her pearls, "how dare you, im a catch. hed be so lucky to have me, and so would you."

god, shes such a tease.

believe me gorgeous girl, i know id be so lucky to have you. its all i think about nowadays.

[ masterlist ]

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Seven

Summary: Taehyung catches you coming home late and makes you regret it Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 5.3K~ (kinda got carried away with this one lmao) Warnings: Smuuuuutttt, Domestic abuse (physical and mental), explicit language and yändere behaviors a/n: Sorry it's taken me a while to come back around to this story but I hope you guys like it 🥰 Start from the beginning

After watching as Jungkook rounds the corner and out of sight I turn around and unlock the door, noticing that only the bottom lock is locked. 'That's strange, I could've sworn I locked both of them' I think to myself but don't let my thoughts wander farther than that before walking in. 

Taking off my boots and starting to strip out of my clothes just as quickly as I did the last time I went out I'm met with one of our table lamps turning on in the living room making me freeze in place. 

"Have a nice night?" I hear Taehyung say, totally void of emotion, knowing full well there's anger hidden just behind it. "Tae I can explain" I start off, walking towards where he's sitting on the armchair that faces the door but I stop in my tracks when he stands up and slowly walk towards me. 

"You can explain? What is there to explain y/n? Did you do something that needs explaining?" he continues to ask, deepening his voice as I slowly retreat, trying to maintain some distance between us. "No, I didn't do anything wrong" I say, standing my ground and knowing that it's the truth. 

"Is that so? Then why was it that I heard not only your voice but a man's voice as well right outside our door y/n? Care to explain that?" he asks, continuing to stalk towards me and in my need to escape I stupidly bump into a wall behind me leaving him a chance to lunge at me and trap me against it. 

"He's a friend" I breath out, my voice getting smaller and smaller, dissociating and pulling my consciousness out of the situation, only being able to watch from above. "A friend? Huh, didn't remember you having any friends. Where, pray tell, did you meet this friend? Or better yet, where were you tonight?" he ask, getting up in my face and taking a deep breath. 

"You smell sweet, seems like you might've been drinking tonight huh? Is that what you did? Met a man at a bar behind my back? Then you have the audacity to tell me you did nothing wrong!" he says, raising his voice as he continues to stare me down. 

"We didn't do anything. We just had a few drinks and he walked me home, that's it" I explain, giving him the facts and the facts alone because that's exactly what happened. He pushes off the wall and walks away from me, letting out a sigh with curses attached to it, trying but failing to calm his temper. 

“Are you cheating on me?" he asks and my jaw drops. "No! You do not get to play the victim card with me like I'm the one that did something wrong! This has nothing to do with you" which in reality it doesn't. My intention was to talk about what happened this morning but I decided to focus on Jungkook instead. 

I'm not lying and I'm not the one who's in the wrong here. I have to keep reminding myself of these things because otherwise if I start blaming myself again then he wins. 

"This has everything to do with me! I am your husband and last time I checked my wife isn't supposed to be going out for drinks by herself and picking up men to bring them home!" he yells, his anger building by the second but I'm not backing down this time. 

"I did not pick him up or bring him home. He was a friend that was walking me home so I wouldn't have to pay for a cab or walk in the dark on my own. I didn't cheat on you and you know that" I say, continuing to defend myself and Jungkook. 

"Well you might as well have" he mumbles while running his fingers through his hair. 

"I can't say the same for you" I say without a second thought but throw my hand over my mouth, knowing that I've made a terrible mistake. "Excuse me?" he growls out, rearing his head toward me, his eyes narrowed and waiting for my response, seconds away from losing control... 

But I press on anyway.

"You heard me! You had the audacity to not bother coming home last night and then when you show up bright and early this morning you didn't even give me any sort of pitiful excuse as to why. Then when you get a call from your mistress, the one you probably just left, you let her not only interrupt what we were doing but you also left and ran back to her right away" I say, raising my voice and holding my chin high, summoning all the confidence and strength I'll need to deal with this conversation. 

"My mistress huh?" he chuckles dryly, shaking his head and stalking towards me before grabbing me by the throat and pulling me towards him before slamming me up against the wall, squeezing so hard that he cuts off my cries of pain.

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that huh? What makes you think that you can disrespect me in my own house? You dare accusing me of stepping out on you when you were just with a man tonight. From the looks of your hair and makeup alone I know you're lying" he says squeezing harder for a second before letting loose just enough for me to choke out a response. "I'm not lyin-" 

"Don't you fucking dare! I know he fucked you! Your messy sweaty hair and you smeared makeup is proof enough. Although looks like he didn't do a very good job of it since you still have some lipstick left huh?" he says through gritted teeth. 

I start to see black dots in my vision and just as I'm about to lose consciousness he lets go, letting me fall to my knees. 

I cough and wheeze, trying to flood some oxygen to my lungs while he cracks his neck, getting rid of some tension before saying another word. He glares down at me before crouching down and lifting my chin up, making eye contact while he smiles at me with a look that says he's gonna make sure I regret what I said to him. 

"You're gonna tell me exactly what he did to you" he starts and I shake my head but he cuts me off "No see, you will. You'll show me exactly what he did to you and I'm going to show you that I'll do it better. Remind you who you belong to" he says, taking off his belt and I continue to shake my head, letting my tears start to fall, silently begging for him to stop. 

"You think tears are gonna work on me? Don't you realize that that's exactly why I stay with you? Seeing you cry and beg for mercy even though you body is screaming for more. Watching the tears stream down your face while your makeup is fucked up beyond belief from it all. Fuck baby you're the reason I'm like this. You go around, purposefully getting in trouble and giving me a  reason to treat you like this" he says, caressing my face and giving me a disgusting grin while he watches my face as I fall apart. 

"I don't want this" I sob, begging for all of this to stop. "No see that's where you're wrong. You were so upset that we got interrupted that you went out and did something that you knew would make me want to hurt you because that's exactly what you wanted. You're a slut for pain and you love it when I do this to you" he says while grabbing onto my bicep and dragging me up by it, making me wince in pain. 

"Taehyung stop, please" I sob, "Taehyung stop" he mimics me in a high pitched voice, making fun of my cries for help. "All I hear when you say that is you begging me to go harder, you're begging me to use you like the worthless whore you are" he says while dragging me into our bedroom all while I'm pulling and pushing and fighting my way out of his hold.

Right before he throws me on the bed I'm able to break free and run into the bathroom, him chasing after me but right at the last second I'm able to close and lock it behind me. 

I take shallow breaths in and out, hyperventilating as he bangs on the door and screams for me to open in. I scream back and tell him to leave me alone but it only makes him furious. 

"I'll break this fucking door down you whiny bitch! Open up!" he yells as he throws his body up against the door, the wood slamming into the door frame and I pray to whatever higher power there is out there to send someone here to save me. 

As soon as I finish my prayer I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Reaching for it I let out a sob when I realize it's Jungkook's email that he said he would send me and I click on the number right away, not bothering to read the message and hold my breath as I listen to it ring and ring and ring until I hear him pick up.

"Noo-" "Jungkook please, please come back please Taehyung's here and he-" I cut him off but before I'm able to get much more out Taehyung cuts me off as well with another one of his yells. "Who the fuck are you talking to in there? You better not be calling your little boyfriend you whor-" "Jungkook please" I whimper. 

"I'm already on my way I'll be there in 5 minutes, I just pulled out of The Blue Pearl and I'm at the light about to turn onto your street. Just stay on the phone with me okay? Do you have a spare key anywhere?" he asks, talking me through it all and assures me he'll be here soon. 

"It's under the mat" I let out, trying to keep my voice as low as I can so Taehyung doesn't know what's happening. "Okay where are you in the house?" he continues and I tell him exactly where I am and what's going on and he keeps me talking, making sure that Taehyung hasn't gotten a hold of me and that I'll be safe until he gets here. 

"Okay Noona I just pulled up, I'm parking my car, I'm running upstairs" he lists off  and while I hear the sounds that match his claims my breathing gets a little deeper with each word, calming me down and knowing that no matter what Jungkook will protect me with everything he's got. 

"I'm at the door and I'm grabbing the key, I'm turning the lock okay I'm inside" he says and hangs up the phone as soon as he starts walking down the hallway. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Taehyung yells out as soon as he notices Jungkook's form stalking towards him but the next thing I hear is the sound of Taehyung grunting in pain and feeling the thud of him hitting the floor. 

"What the fuck?" he yells out and at that sound I open the bathroom door. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" Jungkook says sternly, barely glancing at me as to keep his eyes on Taehyung to block any movement he might make to harm me.  "You know this guy?" Taehyung says, wiping the corner of his mouth and looking at the blood caused from his busted lip.

"I was the guy she went out with tonight" Jungkook say, throwing my friends argument right out the window. "Jungkook please" I say, my voice strained from the pressure Tae had put on my throat. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" he growls out again, balling up his fists and ready to throw another punch. 

"Maybe you should listen baby. Don't wanna watch while I beat up your little boyfriend here" Tae grits out and while Jungkook is still turned to face me he punches him straight in the jaw, leaving him stumbling back a few step but stays standing. "Jungkook!" I scream, rushing towards him to check on him but he ignores my efforts to do so and puts me behind his back to keep me out of reach.

"That's a bit cruel now isn't it? Worrying about him over your own husband? I guess you really are a slut" "You shut your mouth" Jungkook growls, squaring his shoulder and I can tell just from his back how he'd be willing to kill Taehyung if I asked him to. 

"Taehyung get out!" I say as loud as I can, the pain on my larynx worse than it's ever been before. If Jungkook hadn't gotten here I really think Taehyung would've gone too far this time.

"You heard her! Get the fuck out" Jungkook says getting ready to grab him but after Tae takes in Jungkook's figure he steps back and starts to leave on his own. "Fine, you can have her. She's worthless to me anyways" he says over his shoulder and I have to grab Jungkook by the arm to keep him from lunging at him again. 

"Jungkook please stop, just let him go" I say, holding on with all my might and at my voice he relaxes a bit but still keeps his guard up. "Keep your bitch on a leash y/n. We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt" is Tae's last sentiment and at that I let go of Jungkook, letting him do as he sees fit.

"What'd you fucking call me?" Jungkook asks, holding onto Taehyung's neck just like he had done to me and all Tae can do is claw at his hand and gasp for breath, letting out choked curses as he does. 

"Huh? Sorry? Didn't catch that" he says, squeezing even harder but I place my hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality again and at that he stares Taehyung down before letting go of his neck and shoving him out of the apartment. 

Before Tae is able to say another word Jungkook slams the door in his face locking it and putting on the chain lock in an effort to make sure he won't be able to get in too easily.

Jungkook leans his forehead against the door, hand rested against it in the form of a fist before he turns around and as soon as I try to say something he wraps his arms around my torso and holds me tight, wordlessly showing me that he's here and he will protect me from anything and everything if I let him. 

After a few minutes of standing like that I lean back and look at him, tracing my hand gently along the swollen area on his jaw. "I'm sorry" I choke back, letting the emotions of the moment hit me again. He brings his hand up just like I had, tracing it along my neck where the skin is red and showing signs of bruising that I'm sure will be there tomorrow. 

"Don't" is all he says as he runs his thumb along my lips, the bottom one spilt in the corner from where I had bitten it nervously at some point. 

"But I-" "No, don't. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here" he says, tucking my hair behind my ear and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "I would've done a lot more if you hadn't stopped me" he says, studying my features before he pull back and assesses my body 

"Did he touch you anywhere else? Are you in any pain?" he starts, pestering me with more and more questions before I can even answer one and all I can do in response is smile, watching as his eyes dart all over me. "Jungkook I'm fine" I say but he scrunches his brows and tongues his cheek. "You're obviously not fine now tell me what he did to you" he says sternly, not backing down from this. 

I take in a shaky breath before relaying everything that happened and he pulls me in for a hug once I've finished, making sure to be a lot more gentle this time but still, no less full of comfort and promises of protection. 

Now sitting on the couch together he keep a hold of one of my hands, playing with my fingers as we sit there, neither of us knowing what to say. I look up at him and notice that he's been staring at me, waiting for me to say or not say anything, just wanting to show me that he's here and is focused solely on me. 

"Thank you for coming" I mumble and he smiles, nodding his head while he rubs circles into my palm. "I wish I could've been here under different circumstances but thank you for calling me and letting me be there for you" he says and I nod my head as well, both of us going back to sitting in a comfortable silence for a while.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up" I say, taking note of his busted lip and the blood that had started to drip down his chin. "What? This? This is nothing" he smile, making light of the subject but I nevertheless lead him into the bathroom. 

I close the lid of the toilet before having him sit down, him obeying and letting me take care of him with little to no protest.

"This might sting a little" I say before using some rubbing alcohol to clean up the surrounding area. He flinches and grabs my wrist in response, his eyes narrowed in pain from the sting. "I'm sorry" I apologize but he doesn't bother saying anything, his eyes now focused on my lips.

My eyes flitter down to his as well, feeling as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and before I can stop myself I'm already leaning down and kissing him. 

The kiss is soft, chased and so full of longing from the both of us but I pull away, scared that I might've crossed a line that he might want to keep drawn until we figure things out.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that" I say but before I have the chance to open my eyes he's pulling me in by my hips and guiding me down to kiss him again, a hand on my jaw trying to keep me close. 

We kiss for what feels like only moments but when we pull away all we can manage to do is try to stop our racing hearts as we slow our panting breaths. 

"Are you going to leave him" he lets out before taking in another breath, the patterns slowly going back to normal.

"I- What?" I ask, caught off guard from the straightforward question and it takes my brain a second to catch up. "Are you going to leave him? Because if we do this I don't think I'll be able to go back to what we were before" he says, his thumb rubbing circles against my hip as he still has me pulled in close. 

I look down at him for a moment, studying his features and notice his parted lips, now swollen from my doing. His brows pinched in concentration and just bellow are his eyes, pleading for me to say something, full of those same galaxies that continue to pull me in. 

"I'll leave him" I let out in a hushed tone, words that I had only hoped I would say one day. His eyes trace all of my features making sure that I truly mean what I say and as soon as he's satisfied with my answer he stands up, picks me up by my hips and places me on the bathroom counter, our roles reversed with him now towering above me. 

"If you want me to stop then tell me to stop" he says and I blink up at him for a second before nodding my head in response. "Use your words Noona" he says, caressing my cheek and my jaw drops before regaining composure seconds later. 

"I'll tell you" I respond and at that he leans in and kisses me, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter and wedging his knee between my parted legs, letting me use him if I want to. I place my arm around his neck and place my other hand on his jaw, keeping him close and wordlessly asking him for more. 

When he pulls away a bit I chase his lips, scooting closer to the edge and let out a breathy moan, getting friction when I wasn't expecting it yet. "Use me to get yourself off Noona" Jungkook says against my lips, pleading for me to keep going but letting me take control. 

I do as he say and chase after his lips while I throw both arms around his neck to anchor myself as I rock my hips back and forth, moaning at the feeling of my clit rubbing up against his thigh, my thin leggings and his jeans the only barriers between us. 

I pull away to catch a breath but my hips never stop as he's now holding onto them and guiding me, keeping the pace just right. I let out breathy moans, not being able to hold back enough to hide what this is doing to me.

"You make such pretty noises for me. So responsive" he says, pulling me further up his thigh and making me gasp at the feeling before letting out an unrestrained moan. 

"There we go, let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm making you feel" he rasps out in a deep voice before pressing his lips against mine, swallowing those noises he just asked for. 

I swear I could cum from just listening to him. 

"Shit Jungkook" I curse, pulling back and gasping for breath, so close to release already. "Tell me what you need" he says, hands still dragging my hips at a steady pace. "Fuck touch me please" I whine out, the sensations on a whole other level when he's the one doing this to me. 

"I am touching you" he taunts, forcing me to tell him exactly what I want. "I need your fingers. Please fuck" I groan out, feeling as he drags me harder along his thigh. 

"Noona wants my fingers yeah? You want them down here?" he pauses his motions, tracing the wet stain on my legging and I moan out a 'yes' before he slips his hand under my waistband and gently draws a stripe up between my folds with his middle finger before just barely ghosting it against my clit. 

"Jungkook please" I beg, my hips chasing after his hand. "Patience Noona. I promise I'll make you feel good" he whispers in my ear before pulling his hand out of my pants, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to my bed. 

"Wanna eat you out" he says after making both of us fall on the bed. "Is that okay?" he questions and I nod my head before saying 'yes'. He kisses me for a little bit again, making my brain get even foggier than before, giving me that same fluttering feeling he always does but this time lower and accompanied by a pulsing need for his touch. 

He notices how I start to squirm and takes mercy on me, chuckling dryly as he pulls away and sits back, looking at my leggings and then up at me and when I try to take them off on my own he pulls my hands away and kisses my palms instead. 

"No this is about you. Let me take care of you yeah?" he asks and I nod my head, trying to keep myself from moaning at his words, his fiery gaze locked on me before placing my hands on either side of me and getting up off the bed while slowly sliding down my pants. 

"No panties huh? No wonder I could feel how wet you were" he teases and I cover my face in embarrassment when I look down and see the wet stain I caused on his jeans. "Don't hide from me" he says while he comes down to hover over me, making me want to do it even more. 

"Come on pretty, let me see you" he rasps out and at that I take my hands off my face, him not having used any pet names with me before leaving me caught off guard.

"There she is" he says with a crooked smile letting my jaw drop. He laughs and kisses my open mouth before trailing his lips down my neck, paying close attention to it, wanting to kiss away the pain. 

I hiss at the feeling of his middle finger drawing lazy patterns along my clit, caught off guard by the sudden touch. "You gonna let me take care of you?" he asks, his words dripping with promises of ecstasy and I only whimper in response, his finger now drawing circles around my entrance.

He watches my reactions as he dips it inside of me, feeling all my senses heightened from the sensation of being with someone other than my husband. Someone who truly wants to take his time with me. 

"You're already acting like this and I've only put in one finger. Let's see what kind of pretty noises you make when I add another huh?" he taunts, slowly dragging his finger out of me before adding another one. 

My hips buck up at the feeling, chasing his touch and he chuckles, enjoying the fact that my body is not ashamed in show my desire for him even if my mouth can't say it.

"Just like that, ride my fingers Noona, use me" he says and I moan at his word, something primal stirring up in me at the sound of them. My hips buck up into his hand without remorse and I gasp when he adds another one. 

He takes his hand away when he feels me tightening around his fingers and I groan at the loss of touch. "It's okay, I'm right here. Just want the first time you cum to be on my tongue" he says, leaning down to whisper it in my ear making me melt into the mattress, completely at his mercy. 

"Can you take this off for me?" he asks, playing with the hem of my shirt and I nod my head, sitting up and taking it off and as I go to take off my bra his eyes widen at the thin black lace wrapped perfectly around my breasts. "Keep it on" he husk out and I close my legs at the sound, needing some sort of friction but he pulls my legs apart thinking that I was trying to close myself off from him. 

"None of that" he says and takes time to really look at me, making eye contact before studying my features and taking in how fucked out I already look. "Lay down for me" he says, leaning in to kiss me and guiding me down on my back again. 

He takes his time kissing me, trailing his hands up and down my torso before replacing them with his lip, tongue and teeth, leaving no inch of skin untouched. "God you're so beautiful" he groans, taking time to worship my body, reminding me of how I'm meant to be loved. 

He pulls down on the lace covering my breast and latches his lips around my sensitive bud, hardening from the arousal coursing through my veins. He switches to the other one and gives it the same time and attention, his brows furrowed together in concentration, finding pleasure in this act as well.

"I can't get enough of you" he growls out, trailing his lips down my torso and kissing my waist, sucking marks into it as a reminder of what I let him do to me.

He looks up at me before focusing his gaze on my glistening folds and how I'm clenching around nothing, begging to be full. 

He leans in and licks a hard stripe from my entrance to my clit, sucking it in gently and moaning into me, making my hips buck into his face, chasing more of that sensation. 

"Fuck you taste like candy" he moans, making out with my cunt, leaving me grasping onto his locks with one hand to keep him close and placing the other over my mouth to hold back the moans I'm bound to let out. 

"Take your hand off your mouth or I'll stop" he commands, looking up at me with a fiery gaze that tells me he'll make good on his word. 

I lower my hand slowly and keep my eyes on him and watch as he become hungrier at the sight of my flushed cheeks and rising and falling of my chest. "You're such a good listener" he grins and before I'm able to say something in response I'm cut off by the moan I let out when he dips his tongue inside me. Now alternating between kissing, sucking and fucking me with his tongue, moaning into me all along. 

I can tell I'll never be able to find anyone as skilled as he is with his fucking mouth. 

I'm seeing stars already from the build up alone and I buck my hips up into him, begging for more. He pulls back and looks up at me, his chin glistening with my arousal and his eyes full of hunger, begging me to give him everything I have to offer. 

"You gonna cum Pretty?" and at that I arch my back, moaning and feeling so close to cumming like I knew I would. His fucking mouth making me weak for him in more ways than one. He grabs my hips and presses them down into the mattress to keep me in place for him. "Stay nice and still for me yeah?" he says, coaching me through it and making me hang onto every word. 

"Good girl" he says, kissing the inside of my thigh before going back to eating me out, going even harder and faster than before if even possible, never letting up on giving me anything and everything I need and all I can do is let out a slur of unintelligible moan and whimpers, motivation for him to keep going. 

Before I'm able to get anything out he takes his mouth off of me only for a second, looking up and savoring my reactions before growling out "Cum" leaving me cumming on his tongue, just like he said he wanted me to.

He continues his ministrations, licking and kissing and sucking up everything I've given him, slowing his pace but keeping his mouth on me still, obsessed with the way I taste. 

I try to pull back and wiggle my way away from him but he pulls me back in by my hips keeping me in place. "Stop running" he growls out and when I whine in overstimulation he looks up at me with a devilish glint in his eyes, telling me he's no where near done with me.

"I know you can give me another one" he taunts, kissing and sucking marks on the inside of my thigh and my vision goes blurry with lust, desire flooding my senses all over again and I nod my head before laying it back down on the pillow, him pulling away only to grab another one. 

"Lift your hips for me love" he says while caressing the outside of my thigh and I do as he says and he places a pillow under them, angling me just how he wants me and giving him a better angle this time. 

Fuck I'm in trouble...     

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[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch14: Through The Ice

Me at 11pm in my time zone: I wonder if I can get through a second chapter before @flaming-thing wakes up in their morning. I've got like four hours?

Me three hours later:

Runaan could curse himself for being this foolish.  He should have been keeping a closer eye on their surroundings, a better control over his assassins.  Shame burned in his chest at the thought that a child had been the one to shush them successfully, and even that had come too late to actually save them.  He couldn’t shelter them all as they fled down the slope, the rushing snow forcing him to just trust they would all listen to his instructions.  The closest shelter was nearly down to the frozen lakeside, and he bodily dragged the elf nearest him into the lee side of the rock formation, only able to see once there that it was Ram at his side.

He had no real time to process what he was seeing when he turned towards the path before Prince Callum shouted “Aspero!” and began to blow back at the avalanche coming down on him, his brother, Rayla, and Andromeda.

What the hell had happened to Skor, then?  Ezran had been on his shoulders.

“He’ll never make it,” Ram said tensely. “No one’s got that kind of lung capacity, who knows how long the avalanche will last.”

The snow had blocked their path almost as soon as the spell was cast, and it was still rushing, spilling to the sides so quickly Runaan was already knee-deep in it. “We can’t get to them to stop it,” He said woodenly. “We will just have to hope he runs out slowly and they have time to move.”

Under the roar of the snow and how quickly their vision was obscured, he had no idea if it were true.  The minutes stretched on like hours until the sound receded, and he and Ram were able to dig themselves out and back to the surface of the snow.  Skor was clawing his way out of a drift on the other side of the path, past another rock.  He shook his head with his teeth bared when Runaan looked at him. 

“What happened to the prince?” Runaan demanded.

“Tripped.” Skor replied shortly. “Both went slidin’, Rayla had him.”

Rayla.  Where was she?  Where was the egg?  Skor was tugging Callisto out of the drift behind him, but there was no way the children had reached that shelter without leaving some sort of mark in the snow.  Runaan scanned frantically down the slope and spotted Rayla wrestling herself out of another drift and onto her feet.

Thank the Moon she was all right.  

“Is everyone okay?” Prince Callum wheezed from a little lower down. 

“Where’s that hiccupin’ juice thief frog?” Rayla snarled.

The toad appeared from the snow just before Runaan took a step down on the spot, and he just managed to pull his boot back and pick the little creature up.  

“He’s right there, and he’s okay!” Ezran said from even further out - on the ice. “We made it!”

Runaan let Bait down as they got to the edge of the ice, and he, Ram, and Ezran all seemed to notice the egg further out on the lake at the same time.

“I’ll go get the egg!” Ezran volunteered, and as he scurried to get it, Callisto grabbed Runaan’s bruised arm firmly enough to make him flinch.

Before he could ask what that was about, Callisto hissed, “Where’s Andromeda?”

Fuck.  Runaan glanced up the slope and saw no sign of her.  She’d been closest to the children when they began to run.  Had she been with them when the prince tried that spell to hold back the avalanche?  He had hardly been able to see.

“Runaan, over there.” Ram pointed out a hole in the ice, large enough for a grown woman to have fallen through. “The ice is thinning with spring.  Do you think -?”

An ominous crack brought all their attention back over to Prince Ezran, who was frozen with the egg in his arms as the ice began to crack under his feet.

Rarely had Runaan felt quite this helpless.  He glanced down at the ice near the bank, judging quickly that there was no way it would hold his weight, nor Skor’s.  Even Callisto would be terribly risky, and they couldn’t spread their weight out as much with one arm bound to their chest like it was. 

“Hold on Ez, we’re comin’ to get you.” Callum said firmly, and then glanced back at Runaan.

Something in him wanted to protest when the two teenagers - Callum and his daughter - began to scoot their way onto the ice, but it was the right choice.  They were the only ones light enough to maybe make it work, alongside Ram. “Help them.” He ordered the younger man. “All of you, stay low, spread your weight across the ice as much as you can!” He called out to them. “Callisto, Skor and I can’t cross at all, it won’t hold us, so be careful, because we cannot come get you.”

“We’ve got this.” Rayla promised over her shoulder. 

He really hoped they did.  A loud splash made him flinch and brought his attention back to the hole in the ice, where Andromeda had just burst from the water.  She gasped for breath and tried to grasp the edge of the ice, only for it to crumble in her hands.  Even her sickle, when she pulled it out, simply cut through the ice and continued to dunk her back in.

“If we don’t get her out of there fast she’ll freeze,” Callisto snapped at his elbow.

Runaan glanced over at the children, who were carefully getting into position to pass the egg hand to hand back to Ram and get it closer to shore.  Ram had them.  He dug in his packs for a rope and tied it to one of his arrows.  He would have to shoot near enough to Andromeda for her to see it and grab the rope, and then even if the ice continued to break, they could reel her in without continuously fighting the surface as she was doing now. 

When he raised his bow, his folly became clear, as his arm twinged and he nearly dropped it.  The moment he tried to draw the bowblade it became clear his purpose was impossible.  Runaan grit his teeth and switched hands - he wasn’t as precise a shot aiming with his right, but it didn’t matter as long as he could draw it.

He couldn’t.  His left arm simply did not have the strength. “Ram!” He barked, alarm rising in his core as he watched Andromeda continue to struggle to stay afloat. “Slide your bow back across the ice!  The binding is too tight, I can’t draw mine.”

Ram obediently rolled onto his side on the ice, carefully unfolding his bow from its place across his lower back, and slid it back towards shore.  Skor was standing closer and reached out to catch it with his sword, bringing it in closer range, and picked it up to hand it over.

Rayla cried out in the next moment and another terrifying crack split the air.  Runaan’s heart leaped to his throat for a moment.

Relief, for a second, that his daughter was okay.

Terror when he realized the egg wasn’t.

Guilt that he had noticed his own child before the one that might save the world.

Rising horror that it was underwater.

“How could you drop it!” Callum was shouting.

“You know my hand is messed up, I told ye not to throw it!”

“I just tossed it!”

“Runaan, Andromeda.” Callisto shoved him. “Ram has the children, focus on her!” 

How could he ignore this?  Runaan grit his teeth and nocked his arrow to Ram’s bow instead, and even that his arm failed to draw with actual aim. “Andromeda!” He shouted to her, praying she could hear him, though her movements were becoming frantic. “Hold steady, I can’t aim like this.”

Another burst of snow.  A splash of water.  On one side, a human man in a hunter’s clothes ran from the trees to join them on the lakeside.  On the other, Prince Ezran dove into the icy lake.

Focus on what he could handle.

Skor went for the human on the bank, and Callisto barked, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m helping her, since it seems like you guys are all injured somehow,” The hunter said boldly, swinging a unique chained weapon around.

“It could reach her.” Callisto admitted, low and aside to Runaan.

Every second they were underwater was a countdown.  Andromeda had been in it the longest.  She needed help, but he couldn’t save her in favor of the egg; the Dragon Queen would kill them all anyway and the efforts would be in vain if it died.

“Skor, keep him honest.” Runaan ordered, and pointed to the hunter. “Do it.  Callum!” He called across the ice, turning his attention back to the children. “Your wind spell - clear the snow from the surface of the ice!  Maybe then we can see something useful!”

“The wind - oh, the wind spell!” Callum straightened up abruptly. “I can do that!”

He blew the snow off the ice as the hunter threw his chain weapon to the ice near Andromeda.  She couldn’t quite reach it, and no one saw Ezran at first.  As she clumsily twirled one of her sickles out to tangle it in the chain, Rayla and Callum bolted to another spot and Ram reported, “I see them!  Ezran has the egg!”

They weren’t out of danger yet.  Rayla and Callum darted to another unbroken patch of ice and she cut her way through it.  If she missed even a little, she could collapse the ice under herself as well, and Runaan felt sick in his core at the very idea of it.  He didn’t realize he was praying out loud until Callisto rumbled, “She’ll be fine, Runaan.  She’s a grown woman.”

She helped Callum tug Ezran and the egg out of the water and just collapsed there, lying down as he’d warned, her whole body heaving with exertion and anxiety and Runaan’s heart cracked in two as he saw it. “No.” He rasped. “She isn’t.”

Andromeda, across the ice from them, also managed to make it to the surface, and she coughed up water, shaking visibly, as the human stopped pulling on her to let her try and get her breath back.  She collapsed onto the ice once she could breathe again, visibly trembling. 

“Get her to shore.” Runaan snapped at the human and Skor. “Rayla, Callum, Ezran!  You three need to get to safety.  Stick to the ice that’s hardest to see through, that’s where it will be thickest.  How is Ezran?”

“He’s okay,” Callum reported. “A little sleepy, and really cold, but he’s breathing, not coughing up any water.”

“Keep him awake,” Callisto shouted. “Whatever happens he has to stay awake.  We need his body temperature up.” They were already shrugging off their jacket and packs and rummaging through them. “Ram, we’ll need your spare clothes!”

“I thought so.” Ram said as he tried to shuffle his way back to shore.

“Ram, wait!” Rayla called. “I’m gonna roll the egg to you, you need tae roll it to shore.  It’s too heavy to take with us, the ice keeps cracking more.”

At least that handoff went smoothly enough.  Callisto’s jacket was wrapped around the egg in place of the prince’s pack, and they pulled it away from the shore, tucked it into a small alcove of piled snow where it would hopefully remain above freezing.  Runaan shrugged off his own jacket - it was the largest one they had, and the prince would need a covering to change out of his wet clothes into Ram’s spares.

Andromeda made it to shore first.  She didn’t even try to stand upon being dragged onto solid ground, just let her sickle fall from her death grip and lay shivering for a moment.  Skor abandoned the tracker, kneeling beside her to help her sit up and wrap his jacket around her shoulders.

Ezran, Callum, and Rayla made it at the same time, and Runaan wrapped both boys in his coat. “Here, we need to get you two warm again.” He rumbled. “Callum, I need you to strip your brother out of those wet clothes.”

“You want to make him colder?” Callum protested.

“Water holds the freeze more than air,” Callisto explained urgently. “I promise ye, lad, the wet clothes will make him much colder than bein’ bare for a second will be.  Ram’s got a spare change of clothes for him.”

“It’ll be too big,” Ram said even as he handed it under the coat Runaan had wrapped around them. 

Callisto grunted. “Too big is better than wet in these temperatures.”

“Okay.” Callum said, after looking from Callisto to Runaan, and he set to work.  

Runaan left the boys in Callisto’s capable hands - well, hand - and turned to his daughter. “Rayla-”

He didn’t even get through her name before she burst out, “I’m sorry.  This was all ma fault, I knew my hand was messed up.  Callum’s right, I should ha’ just caught it with my other arm, but I didn’t, and now Ezran’s hurt and this all -”

“Rayla!” He cut her off, and felt the despondent look she gave him like a knife in his chest. “This was just the most recent in a string of bad luck,” He said firmly. “You were just the latest victim.  I’m not angry with you.” She was a child.  Her eyes were welling up with tears she so rarely shed.  She was a child. “We will talk more later,” He settled for saying, as there were far more urgent things to worry about than his decision. “For now, I’m just glad you’re safe.” He opened his arms and she leaned forward tentatively, and when he wrapped her in a hug she burrowed into his chest.  He crushed her tight to his body and closed his eyes for a moment.

He should never have brought her here.  The vitriol of the village against her for her parents’ betrayal wouldn’t have been worse than what he had put her through here in Katolis.  This was too much to ask of her - of any of these children.

“What about the egg?” Rayla asked quietly into his shirt.

Runaan glanced over his shoulder, blood running cold at how dim the egg shone. “I don’t know, darling.  I don’t know yet.”

“Andromeda?” She suddenly lurched a little away from him, still clinging but far enough she could look around for her friend. “Andromeda, is she okay?”

“Andromeda?” He prompted, and looked over to where Skor was holding a blanket up for the woman’s privacy, mostly from the children and the human.  They’d all been on the road together long enough that physical privacy was a bit of a pipe dream.

Skor frowned too and looked over the blanket at her. “Andromeda,” He rasped, and then abruptly dropped to one knee, draping the blanket over her. “Andromeda, talk tae me.  Stay awake.”

Fuck. “We need shelter, and a fire,” Runaan said firmly, glancing about at the group. “Ram, scout something out for us.”

“I’ll help him,” The human volunteered, cutting him off before he could even begin to voice anything else.

“You will stay where I can see you,” Runaan snapped back, hackles rising at the stranger moving too quickly near his wounded family. 

The hunter squared his shoulders and stared him down. “I can help.  Right now, we have the same goal in mind, right?  We both want the princes safe, and that means shelter, and a fire.”

“Humans lie,” Runaan spat, eyes narrowing, shifting to put Rayla behind him. “Why should we trust you?”

“I just saved your friend!” The human pointed at Andromeda, frustration making his movements jerky.

“Which is why you aren’t dead yet.” Runaan snapped back. “I don’t know why you saved her, which means it’s far from a reason to trust you.”

“You have my word,” The human argued. 

“Your word means nothing to me.”

“Runaan.” Callisto said sharply, and he looked over at his friend at the tone. “Skor and I are needed here, and so’s Rayla, for her packs at least - any extra clothes we can salvage for these two are somethin’.  Ram will need help.  Either he goes, or there’s no one left here to watch him anyway.  Ram can take care of himself against one man.”

As much as Runaan hated to admit it, with every nerve in his body screaming to eliminate the stranger from the situation to keep his family safe, he had to concede Callisto’s logic. “Fine.” He growled, glowering distrustfully at the hunter. “Go.” To Ram, he added, “Defend yourself by whatever means necessary.”

“I will.” Ram promised, and looked over at the hunter to arch a brow. “Come on then, pretty boy.”

“My name is Corvus.” The human said roughly as he began to follow Ram away, his boots crunching so much further into the snow than Ram’s.  Humans were so heavy-footed.

“It’s cute that you think I care about that.” Ram said blandly. “Come.  We have work to do.”

To the side, Skor was still urging Andromeda to talk.  Young Ezran was almost dressed again.  Callisto bared their teeth anxiously as Rayla dug through her packs, and Runaan kept his blades at the ready in case of anything else that might want to take advantage of their wounded.

Luckily, nothing did, and by the time Ram returned, both Andromeda and Ezran were somewhat back on their feet.  Andromeda leaned heavily on Skor, and Runaan simply carried Ezran to the cave their scouts had found.  The human had lit a fire while Ram reported to them.

As the child and the woman and all their clothes and the contents of her pack were settled around the fire to dry, Runaan finally took a moment to rub the stress from his face, arm aching, and wonder how much worse things were going to get.  If they failed here - if his mistakes led to the egg’s death before it could make it home - the best case scenario was that they all disappeared.  They could never go home.  That was the best solution and it felt like his heart ripping from his chest as he thought of Ethari, left alone in the Silvergrove.

The worst, though, was that they did return, or news of the egg did.  News of his failure did.  The dragon queen would raze Moonshadow Forest to the ground as the price for his crimes.

Even if the egg survived, he still carried the guilt for bringing Rayla along on this mission.  He had been trying to spare her a lifetime of pain and shame brought on by her parents’ abandonment.  It had been misguided.  Ethari had tried to tell him.  She was too young.

They were all too young to have the world riding on their shoulders, and yet, no matter how hard he tried to shelter them, the concept of a peaceful future truly did ride upon them.

He would not let this human fuck it up any more than he himself already had.  He narrowed his eyes at the tracker. 

Somehow, he had to make sure the egg survived, and the princes delivered it to Xadia - and that Rayla returned to the Silvergrove alive.  Andromeda deserved to go home alive, too - she’d been so looking forward to this season’s heat, to trying for a baby this year.  He had to try and get her that chance.

Everything really had gone to shit over and over.  As Callisto sent Rayla out to search for moonberries, sootheberries, and bogey berries, Runaan just watched her go and prayed that just one fucking thing could go right this time.

[enhastars]

THE RED ROOM જ⁀➴  CHAPTER THREE

AT THE WAREHOUSE, OCT 13TH ✦ (TW: GRAPHIC)

Blood painted the walls in messy strokes, the feathered splatter of arterial spray. It dripped down in dark streaks, pooling ominously into the carpet. As Jake approached the scene, the floor squelched beneath his boots, the sound damp and sickening, like water being wrung from a sponge. A thick crimson liquid welled up under his soles, staining them irreparably.

Jake lifted his foot, his face twisted in disgust. This sight had become far too familiar, yet he never grew accustomed to it. The stench alone was enough to turn most stomachs, and it was precisely why he never committed these heinous acts with his own two hands. 

Jay was already at the scene, crouched beside the mangled corpse—or what remained of them. He jabbed a stick into the flesh, prodding it like one might poke at roadkill. The chunk of tissue rolled lifelessly, smearing against the floor. Jay smirked, seemingly satisfied. Jake couldn’t understand how the other could get so close to the carnage, with guts and viscera splayed across the room, and then go on to eat meat with relish. 

“This one’s messy,” Jay remarked, his tone almost lighthearted.

“No kidding. It’s disgusting,” Jake shot back, rolling his eyes at the obvious observation.

Jay grinned and spun on his heel, his gaze catching another gruesome fragment on the floor. He knelt to inspect it, jabbing at the flesh with morbid curiosity. “Hey, doesn’t this look like lasagna?”

Jake didn’t need to look long to see the resemblance. A chunk of what could only be brain matter lay in a lumpy, tangled heap on the ground. The sight made his stomach churn. 

“God, you’re so gross, you know that?” Jake groaned, running a hand through his chesnut-colored hair in exasperation. He swore he wouldn’t be able to eat Italian food for weeks now.

Ignoring him, Jay rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing as they caught sight of a maroon file on a nearby table. He grabbed it and casually brushed off the debris clinging to its surface. Curious despite himself, Jake carefully stepped around the carnage to join him.

Jay flipped open the file, his expression darkening as his eyes scanned the pages. His lips pressed into a thin line as he handed it over to Jake without a word. One glance at the contents was enough for Jake to understand.

“What a sick bastard,” Jay muttered, running a hand through his blue-toned hair. Jake frowned at the realization that Jay’s hands were likely far from clean. Still, he nodded grimly in agreement. 

The file detailed the heinous acts of Choi Jeongwu, 27, who had been convicted of manslaughter, theft, and sexual assault. The list of his crimes was sickeningly long. Even if he had pleaded guilty, Jake thought, he would’ve ended up on death row. 

“I’d say he deserved it, don’t you think?” Jay spoke as if reading Jake’s mind, his tone devoid of any sympathy.

Jake offered a strained smile. A part of him agreed—men like Jeongwu didn’t deserve mercy. But another part of him, a deeper, more human part, struggled to process the violence that had just unfolded. Jay had always been better at compartmentalizing. Jake suspected Sunghoon had something to do with that. 

Sensing the shift in Jake’s mood, Jay nudged him lightly with an elbow. “I bet he’d taste disgusting,” Jay joked, breaking the tension.

Jake looked up, his bangs falling over his face. “I can’t wait to see Mr. Choi’s face when he finds out what his favorite steak was made of.”

The mental image made Jake laugh despite himself, the sound easing the weight in his chest. Jay grinned, glad to have lifted Jake’s spirits. It had always been like this between the two of them—each other’s lifeline in a world that seemed bent on swallowing them whole.

When Sunghoon had entered their lives, Jake had just turned 20. He remembered it so vividly, as if it were yesterday. Back then, he and Jay were nothing more than rogues, living on the edge of life and death. Jay, his childhood friend, had dropped out of school when college funds proved unattainable, and he’d urged Jake to do the same. Jake couldn’t imagine life without Jay by his side, so he followed suit.

They scavenged the streets for ways to make a quick buck, eventually stumbling into the dark, violent world of narcotics. Selling drugs and conning the wealthy had been dangerous and morally dubious, but it paid well. It had also given them a rush they couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Now, standing in the aftermath of yet another grisly scene, Jake couldn’t help but wonder if this life would ever truly let them go.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up!” Jay, who was much younger and sporting his natural jet black hair, yelled over his shoulder at the man lagging behind him. His arms were weighed down with plastic bags, each stuffed with illegal substances ranging from cocaine to LSD. The load was heavy, but the stakes were heavier.

Jake, younger and far less experienced, was frozen in place. His hands trembled, and his knees felt glued to the ground. Fear coursed through him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Jay couldn’t see what was happening behind him—he was too focused on making their escape after their hideout had been mysteriously tipped off to the police.

“Hyung...” Jake whispered, his voice shaky and his chest tight. He felt as though even the smallest breath could spell his doom. His dry lips quivered as the terror of the moment overwhelmed him for the first time in months.

“I suggest you tell your buddy to put the bags down before I shoot him through the chest,” a new voice cut through the tension like a knife. The words were cold, sharp, and commanding.

Jay whipped his head around, and in that moment, he understood why the other had been paralyzed. Standing just a foot away was a lanky man with a gun pressed firmly against Jake’s back. His long blonde hair was wild and unkempt, falling over his pale, porcelain skin. A black leather jacket clung to his frame, layered over a matching black polo shirt. A gold chain glinted against his chest, a stark contrast to his otherwise shadowy appearance. His face was hard, his gaze boring into the back of Jake’s head, but his lips curved into a maniacal smile.

Jay had seen his fair share of vicious people, but there was something about this man—his cold confidence, his eerie smirk—that left him petrified.

Slowly, Jay dropped to his knees and set the plastic bags on the ground. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his breath shallow as his body tensed. He couldn’t even muster the strength to reassure Jake, who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

The stranger let out a low, mocking laugh, his voice dripping with condescension. “I never thought you’d actually listen.”

Jay’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as anger simmered beneath his fear. He hated feeling humiliated, especially during what was supposed to be a clean getaway.

Without warning, the man tossed the gun to the ground at Jay’s feet. Jake exhaled sharply in relief, suddenly aware that he’d been holding his breath the entire time. Jay arched an eyebrow, his confusion plain.

“It’s empty anyway,” the man said casually, shrugging. “I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“It... it was empty?” Jake’s voice cracked, the adrenaline still coursing through him.

“Of course it was. It’s illegal to carry a loaded firearm in Korea, you know,” the man said with a sly grin. Brushing past Jake, he crouched beside the bags of drugs and began rummaging through them like he was inspecting merchandise.

Jay, still on edge, was flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to toy with them like this. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t bring himself to lash out. Whether it was lingering fear or sheer exhaustion, he wasn’t sure.

Jake hesitated, then inched closer to Jay, careful not to provoke the stranger. The sound of sirens began to grow louder in the distance, snapping them both back to reality.

“Hey,” Jay said, his voice sharp and urgent. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but we need to get the fuck out of here.”

The man didn’t even glance at him, waving him off with the back of his hand. “Relax,” he muttered, still digging through the bags.

The sirens drew closer, and panic began to rise in Jay. He clenched his fists, ready to drag Jake out of there if he had to.

After a few seconds, the man sighed in disappointment and stood up, dusting off his hands. He turned to face them, his sinister smirk returning. Jake instinctively moved behind Jay, but Jay stood his ground.

“How about you two work for me?” the man asked, his tone unnervingly casual.

“Are you crazy? Why the hell would we do that?” Jay snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He wasn’t about to let himself be treated like a pawn.

The man tilted his head, his expression calm and calculating. “Because, I can promise you’ll make more money with me than you ever could in this rat’s nest you call a hideout,” he said, gesturing around the grimy room with a look of distaste.

Jay’s jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, but Jake grabbed his arm to hold him back. The sirens were closing in, the red and blue lights beginning to paint the room in fractured colors.

“What do we get out of this?” Jay questioned defensively. 

“I can help you out of this debacle you got yourselves in.” 

The sirens were inching towards where the three were, making the panic rise in Jay. He didn’t have time to argue with this stranger, unless he wanted to be locked up for the rest of his life. 

“Hyung,” Jake whispered, his voice urgent. “I think we should listen to him.”

“How do you know we can trust this random guy?” Jay spat, growing increasingly frustrated.

Deep down though, he knew he had to come up with a decision quickly.

“The odds are stacked against us, Jay! Look around us.” Jake yelled, surprising both of them with the outburst. 

Jay glanced back at the younger, startled by the seriousness in his tone. It wasn’t often that Jake called him by name, and it only happened when he was dead serious. He gritted his teeth, torn between his pride and the reality of their situation.

The man grinned, sensing victory. “So, what do you say, Mr. Jay?”

The sirens were now deafening, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows across the room. Jay swallowed hard, then nodded begrudgingly. He didn’t like it, but he knew they had no other choice. The stranger seemed satisfied with that. 

“We don’t even know your name,” Jake said, stepping forward cautiously.

The man cocked an eyebrow, then reached into his pocket and handed Jake a small slip of paper—what appeared to be a business card. Jay’s eyes widened as the man turned around and climbed onto the windowsill, clearly preparing to jump. “Are you insane?” Jay shouted, realizing the his spontaneous plan. 

The stranger turned back with a smirk, silencing him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding. “Just worry about keeping up.”

Before he jumped out, he glanced back one more time at the duo expectedly, who were staring back at him stunned. 

“It’s Sunghoon, by the way. Park Sunghoon.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Sunghoon, I got the body.”  

Back in the present, Jake was pulled from his flashback as Jay’s voice broke through the silence. Jay was speaking into his cellphone—a special kind of burner phone designed to prevent any calls from being traced back to them. Keeping the cops off their trail was always a top priority.  

As expected, the call went straight to voicemail. It always did. Jay left a message anyway, confident Sunghoon would get back to them quickly, as usual. The waiting rarely lasted long, and it wasn’t much of a hassle.  

The process of transferring the goods was routine by now. Ever since Sunghoon had purchased a trucking company under a shell corporation, transportation had become significantly easier. The only annoyance was waiting for the trucks to arrive. Sometimes it could take hours, but today, they were quicker than expected. Jake guessed the hitman they’d hired must’ve called the trucks ahead of time, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want to spend another minute in that warehouse if he could help it.  

“What about the cleaning service? Did they get back to you?” Jake asked, glancing at Jay as they finished packaging the goods.  

Jake never dealt with the cleanup—he avoided it like the plague. Blood and guts weren’t his thing, and Sunghoon had thankfully hired a private cleaning service for these kinds of "specialized" messes.  

“No, but they should be here soon,” a worker nearby replied, his voice muffled by the hazmat mask covering his face. His gloved hands moved efficiently, stacking sealed evidence bags.  

Jake tsked in annoyance, partly because he was tired of waiting but mostly because he’d forgotten to wear protective gear. His clothes were ruined, and now he’d need to replace them.  

With a nod from the worker, Jay gestured toward their car, signaling that it was time to leave. The rest of the cleanup would be handled by the hired crew. Jay and Jake only stuck around to grab any files or critical evidence worth salvaging.  

“I need new shoes,” Jake muttered with a pout as he climbed into the passenger seat of Jay’s gray Mercedes-Benz.  

Jay, sliding into the driver’s seat, smirked knowingly. “It was a birthday gift,” he always said about the car. But Jake wasn’t buying it. He was pretty sure Jay had stolen it—being a thief was practically written into his DNA at this point.  

Jay turned the ignition, and the car roared to life, the radio blasting an ear-piercing burst of heavy rock music. Jake flinched, letting out an undignified yelp before launching into a fit of rage, smacking Jay’s shoulder repeatedly.  

“Turn it down, you idiot!” Jake yelled, while Jay doubled over laughing.  

As the music settled to a tolerable level, Jake crossed his arms and sank into the seat. “I heard there’s a new recruit. Can’t wait to meet them,” Jay said, a grin playing on his lips as he focused on the road.  

Jake perked up, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. He’d overheard something about it on the phone but hadn’t caught the details.  

Jay nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t seen Sunghoon in a while either, so I’ll get to check in with him too.”  

Jake grinned to himself, excitement bubbling under his skin. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was also looking forward to seeing Heeseung. Not that anyone needed to know that.  

“Off to L’Atelier Rouge we go,” Jay announced, his voice dripping with an exaggerated, fake French accent. Without warning, he slammed down on the gas pedal, sending the car hurtling toward Seoul, their home.  

Jake grabbed the edge of his seat, glaring at Jay as the car shot forward like a bullet. “You’re such a reckless driver!”  

Jay only laughed harder, the city lights of Seoul shimmering in the distance as they sped toward their next destination.  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

authors note: hey lol this was kinda short but !! i start university again on tuesday so updates might be less frequent but ill try my best!! :D sorry its kind of dark and gruesome lol its definitely not my usual but i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3

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taglist: @rebeccaaaaaaaa, @strxwbloody, @shuichi-sama , @pshbites

[madewithlove-sophie]

Chapter III | Beneath the Mask | Simon Ghost Riley Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Capture or Kill

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The first light of dawn filtered through the small window of Y/N’s quarters, casting a soft glow across the room. The silence was broken only by the low hum of the base’s electric fan and the distant sounds of soldiers moving through the halls. Y/N’s eyes flickered open, the adrenaline of the upcoming mission already buzzing beneath her skin, despite the stillness of the early morning.

She lay still for a moment, letting the quiet wash over her before swinging her legs off the bed, the coolness of the concrete floor sending a jolt of alertness through her body. The mission was only hours away, and she knew that once the briefing started, the clock would be ticking. She had to be ready—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Without a word, she moved toward the small bathroom, the familiar routine helping her center herself. 

The sound of water running as she splashed her face was soothing, and as she looked at her reflection, she saw a woman who had seen far more than her years should have allowed. Yet, in the mirror, she saw only resolve, no room for doubt. Today, she couldn’t afford to let anything slip—especially not now, not with everything on the line.

After dressing in her tactical gear, she checked her weapons—each one precise, each one ready. The weight of the rifle felt familiar in her hands, comforting almost, despite the tension that seemed to seep into her bones. She couldn’t afford to overthink. The mission had to be executed flawlessly. She could hear Ghost’s words echoing in her head: “Focus on the mission. We get in, we get out. Simple.”

Once ready, Y/N checked the time. It was still early—too early for most of the team—but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep any longer. She grabbed her gear, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and headed out.

The base was still quiet as she made her way to the briefing room, the hallways empty save for the occasional soldier preparing for the day ahead. As she approached the door, she noted the stillness in the air—a sense of calm before the storm. She made to sure to always arrive early. There was something about the stillness of a room before everyone else showed up, the anticipation of what was to come. It gave her a moment to mentally prepare, to ground herself before the chaos of the mission fully kicked in.

When she entered the briefing room, the fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead, casting a sterile light across the walls. The mission board was already up, a detailed map of Al Mazrah sprawled across the surface, red markers showing key locations, objectives, and possible threats. Tactical plans were carefully laid out, and in the center of it all, Y/N stood, absorbing every detail.

She wasn’t just looking at the map, though. She was already mentally running through the strategies, planning each movement in her head. She’d memorized every piece of intel, every possible outcome. Her thoughts raced ahead, predicting enemy movements, thinking through the best possible ways to neutralize threats.

The sound of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Ghost moved in like a shadow, his boots heavy but silent on the floor. As usual, he didn’t speak right away, instead just studying her for a moment, noting the tension in her posture, the readiness in her stance.

“Surprised to see you this early,” Ghost said, his voice low, carrying its usual calm authority but with a faint undercurrent of amusement.

Y/N didn’t turn, though a fleeting smile ghosted across her lips. “Someone’s gotta make sure we’re squared away.”

Ghost leaned against the wall, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Overachiever, are we?”

“Just thorough,” she replied, her tone light but tinged with focus.

Ghost grunted, a noncommittal sound, and folded his arms across his chest. He leaned against the wall, still watching her, but his presence was steadying, like a weight anchoring her down when the mission details tried to pull her in every direction at once.

Y/N’s gaze remained locked on the mission board, but her thoughts were anything but focused. The reality of the mission weighed heavily on her shoulders, and despite the grounding presence of the man behind her, a knot of nerves began to form in her chest. This is it, she thought, the magnitude of the operation settling in like a cold, heavy weight. The intel, the lives at stake—it all hinged on their success.

Soap’s voice broke through her internal monologue. “Oi, you good there, Falcon?” His teasing tone had a more genuine edge now, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her still form as he enters the room. “You’re lookin’ a little too focused.”

Falcon, huh? she thought to herself, the call sign still feeling more like a joke than a badge of honor. It hadn’t taken long for the other recruits to slap it on her, a not-so-subtle jab at her connection to her father’s infamous call sign. They’d smirk and say it like it was some great honor, but she could hear the undertones—the mocking edge, the way it hinted she’d only gotten this far because of her name. Falcon was meant to remind her that no matter how hard she worked, she’d always be flying in someone else’s shadow.

Y/N shifted, the tension in her shoulders evident, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she spoke without missing a beat. “Just going over the plan. We need to get Hassan.”

Ghost, who had been silently observing the exchange, pushed off the wall and approached her. His presence was steady, a calm contrast to the buzz of uncertainty that was beginning to take root in Y/N’s mind. He knew what she was feeling—he could see it in the subtle way her hands flexed, the way her jaw tightened as if she were holding something back.

“Hey,” Ghost said, his voice low but steady, a reminder of the grounding force he always seemed to be. 

She still didn’t meet his gaze, her mind too far ahead of the present moment. But he didn’t press. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence close enough that she could feel his steadying influence without even having to look at him.

A pause, before-

“How much do you trust yourself right now?” Ghost’s voice was low, purposeful, cutting through the quiet like a challenge.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

A heavy silence followed. Ghost didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze bore into her, unreadable behind the mask but heavy with scrutiny. 

Y/N shifted on her feet, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence.

Finally, Ghost spoke, his tone blunt but without malice. “We don’t get the luxury of ‘what if.’ That’s not how this works.” As if he knew the raging thoughts in Y/N’s mind. 

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she glanced at the map again, her mind racing. She wanted to push back, to explain the pressure that knotted her stomach, but Ghost wasn’t the type to entertain doubts.

He stepped closer, just enough for his presence to loom. “You’re thinking too much,” he said flatly. “This isn’t about fixing everything in one mission. It’s about doing your job, staying sharp, and trusting the team.”

Her jaw tightened. “I trust the team. I just—”

“Then trust yourself,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through her protest like a blade. “You’ve got the skills. Use them. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

Y/N clenched her fists tighter, forcing herself to meet his gaze. She didn’t need to see his face to know his expression hadn’t softened. “I just don’t want to be the one who screws this up.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his tone still distant but laced with finality. “If this goes south, it won’t be on one person. It’ll be because we all missed something. That’s why it’s a team.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but she didn’t respond right away. Ghost, true to form, didn’t wait for thanks or acknowledgment. He turned, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder as he passed. It wasn’t a comforting gesture—it was grounding, a quiet reminder to pull herself together.

“Focus, Falcon. We’ve got a job to do,” he said, his tone softening just enough to pull her back from the spiral in her mind. “The rest will fall into place.”

Y/N stared at the map a moment longer, his words circling in her head. By the time she turned to follow him, the tightness in her chest had dulled, replaced by a sharper resolve. Ghost didn’t offer reassurances for the sake of it, and that made his words stick.

Soap was still watching them, clearly having caught the shift in the air. “Alright, you two, enough of the sweet talk,” he said with a grin. “We’ve got a manhunt to start. Let’sb save the romance for later.”

Y/N chuckled, the sound light and genuine, before straightening and turning back to the mission board. The plan hadn’t changed. They were still going after Hassan, but now, there was a new layer of confidence in her movements. She knew what she had to do—and more importantly, she knew the team had her back.

“Let’s get it done,” Y/N said, her voice steady once again.

Soap slapped her on the back with a grin. “That’s the spirit.”

Ghost gave a small nod, as the rest of the team enter the briefing room. 

-

The landscape of Al Mazrah had shifted from tense stillness to chaotic urgency. Dust swirled in the air, kicked up by the sounds of distant gunfire, and the constant hum of helicopters was almost deafening. As the team moved through the rugged terrain, the harsh, arid environment contrasted sharply with the pressure mounting on their shoulders. The sun had long set, and the only light came from the soft glow of their night vision goggles, which painted the world in varying shades of green.

The air felt thick, as if it held the weight of every decision, every order. Y/N’s senses were on high alert as she scanned the horizon, trying to anticipate the next move. Ghost’s voice was calm over the comms, but there was no mistaking the urgency in his tone. They had no time to waste.

"Airstrikes are hitting enemy positions, and intel confirms a concentration of AQ fighters in the valley," Laswell's voice crackled over the comms, sharp and efficient, cutting through the tension like a knife. 

"They’re guarding three structures. Hassan may be holed up inside. You’ll be leading a Marine Special Operations unit to kill or capture him. All shooters have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation. Be advised—Hassan is AQ’s lifeline. If he’s there, they will die for him. Good hunting." Laswell’s briefing echoed through Y/N’s mind over and over. 

This was a critical mission. They had to bring Hassan in alive—or they would have to kill him to prevent a catastrophic threat from being unleashed.

Ghost's voice sliced through the air again, directing the team’s movements. "Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill." 

The roar of the helicopter blades was deafening, vibrating through Y/N’s bones as the aircraft descended into the valley. Her gaze was fixed forward, her grip tight on her weapon, her breath shallow. 

As Soap fist-bumped one of the Marines beside him, Y/N stood rigid, the anticipation of what was to come settling in like a weight. The thrill of combat coursed through her veins, but she also felt the burden of responsibility. This wasn’t just about taking down terrorists. This was about stopping something much larger—something that could have global repercussions.

The chopper touched down a kilometer from the target structures, kicking up dust and debris. The world outside was dark, shrouded in a blanket of night, but their night vision cut through the darkness. 

Ghost’s voice came through the comms, steady as always. “Keep up, Falcon.”

Her name was a steady reminder to stay focused, and Y/N nodded, pushing herself forward. There was no time for doubt. They had a job to do. The team moved as one, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth, and their weapons at the ready as they advanced through the valley. The ground was uneven, and the scent of dry desert air filled her lungs, sharp and bitter.

They approached the first structure cautiously, the night stretching out in every direction. The air was thick with tension, each of them scanning for movement, for any sign of enemy presence. The only sound was the subtle crunch of gravel beneath their boots and the occasional crackle of the comms.

Then, without warning, the silence was shattered.

“Razor 1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit,” the chopper pilot’s voice cut through the comms, frantic. Gunfire erupted from the distance, sharp and aggressive, punctuated by the screaming whistle of a missile cutting through the air. 

Y/N’s body went rigid as she recognized the sound of an incoming missile—a weapon designed to tear through the sky with terrifying precision. The missile whistled by, narrowly missing the chopper, its tail of smoke a clear sign of just how close the strike had been. All seemed well until-

“Second Missile!” 

"Razor 1 going down! We’re going down!" The pilot’s voice was ragged now, the fear evident. The sound of the chopper crashing was deafening, an explosion that rattled the ground beneath their feet, sending plumes of smoke and dust billowing into the air.

“Hold up,” Ghost barked, raising his fist. The team froze in their tracks. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as they watched the wreckage of Razor 1 spiral to the ground, the violent explosion a cruel reminder of how quickly things could go wrong.

The air grew thick with smoke, and shots rang out from the structure ahead. Ghost’s voice snapped through the comms again. “Alpha, what’s your status?”

The response was immediate, but it was far from reassuring. “Alpha’s immobile. Multiple critical!” came the reply. “We’re taking effective fire!”

Y/N’s gaze shifted from the downed chopper to Ghost, a sense of urgency building in her chest. “Ghost, we need to secure that crash site now!” she urged, her voice tight with frustration.

Ghost’s expression didn’t change, though his voice softened. “We clear for Hassan first. That takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?”

Y/N hesitated, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. There was no time to waste. But Hassan could be the key, she thought. Still, she nodded, her voice steady as she replied, “Clear, Lieutenant.”

The team advanced with precision, their movements calculated, but the weight of the situation felt like a crushing pressure against her chest.

As they neared the structure, the sound of gunfire intensified, and the faint glow of explosions flickered on the horizon. They stormed the building, weapons raised, ready to clear whatever was inside.

Y/N’s heart raced as she sprinted up the stairs, scanning each corner. The building was eerily silent except for the muffled sound of her own breathing and the rush of adrenaline that was pushing her forward. “Second deck clear! Negative on Hassan,” she reported into the comms, her voice tight.

Ghost's voice came through again, cold and commanding. “Move to building two.” The tension in the air was palpable, each of them aware that Hassan could be holed up somewhere in the complex, waiting to be found—or waiting to be eliminated.

The rest of the night unfolded in a blur of chaos. Gunfire, explosions, close calls. The realization that they were not just fighting AQ fighters, but an entrenched, organized enemy that was willing to die for Hassan, only made the mission more perilous.

The battlefield was chaos, but Y/N’s mind was clear as Alpha 0-2’s frantic voice crackled through her comms.

“Alpha, crash site is taking RPGs from building two, second deck!”

“Falcon, clear the second floor while we clear the first deck!” Ghost barked, his voice calm despite the urgency.

“Roger that, sir!” Y/N replied, adjusting her grip on her rifle. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she sprinted across the debris-littered field, Soap flanking her. They moved in tandem, practiced and precise.

The second floor loomed ahead, its windows dark and foreboding. Y/N scanned for movement, her pulse quickening as she and Soap breached the stairwell. They moved quietly, boots crunching against broken glass as they advanced.

“Keep moving!” Soap urged, his voice pulling her back to the task at hand.

They cleared the floor quickly, their movements synchronized like clockwork. As they pushed down the next corridor, rapid gunfire erupted ahead.

The sharp cry from Bravo 7-2 over the comms pierced through the chaos. “I’m hit!”

Y/N’s heart jumped, but her training took over. In one swift motion, she grabbed a flash bang from her vest, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the room ahead. The deafening explosion of light and sound disoriented the enemies inside, giving her the opening she needed.

She moved in fast, her weapon sweeping left and right. Each shot was precise, neutralizing targets with cold efficiency. Her gaze locked on the RPG-wielding soldier at the far end of the room. Without hesitation, she squeezed the trigger. The soldier fell, the RPG clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Enemy rocket’s down,” she reported, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Good work,” Ghost’s voice came over the comms. “Clear the deck” 

Instead of moving on, Y/N turned toward Bravo 7-2, who was slumped against a wall, clutching his side. Blood seeped between his fingers, staining the fabric of his uniform.

“Hold tight,” Y/N said, rushing to his side. She dropped to one knee, her medical training kicking in. “You good?”

He grimaced, shaking his head. “Took one to the side. Can’t tell how bad it is.”

Y/N’s hands moved with practiced precision as she assessed the wound. She peeled back the blood-soaked fabric to inspect the injury. The bullet had gone clean through, missing any vital organs. Relief flickered through her, but there was no time to waste.

“You’re lucky,” she said, her tone brisk but reassuring. “It’s a through-and-through. Painful, but you’ll live.”

From her med kit, she pulled out gauze and a hemostatic bandage. Working quickly, she applied pressure to stem the bleeding, then secured the bandage tightly around his torso.

“Hold that in place,” she instructed, guiding his hand to the makeshift dressing. “You’ll need proper treatment when we’re out, but this’ll keep you stable for now.”

Bravo 7-2 grunted, his face pale but determined. “Thanks, Falcon. You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/N gave him a tight nod, her focus already shifting back to the mission. She stood, scanning the room once more to ensure all threats were neutralized before switching back to comms.

“Bravo 7-2 is stable for now. Injured but good to move,” she reported.

“Copy,” Ghost replied. “Bravo 7-3, get him out of there. Falcon regroup on me.”

Y/N helped Bravo 7-2 to his feet, slinging his arm over her shoulder for support. As they moved toward the rendezvous point, her mind stayed sharp, scanning their surroundings for any lingering threats.

Behind the calm exterior, a small sense of pride bubbled. Her expertise had made the difference here, saving a teammate’s life. But there was no time to dwell—there was still a mission to complete.

They regrouped outside, the team on edge. Ghost assessed the situation quickly, nodding toward the crash site.

“Soap and I will move to the site. Falcon, hold here and cover us,” he instructed.

“Roger that.” Y/N took up a defensive position, her eyes scanning the horizon. Her grip on her rifle tightened as the rumble of approaching engines filled the air.

“Ghost, you’ve got four armored vehicles coming your way!” she warned, her heart pounding.

Before the rows of armored vehicles begin to fire, “Kilo 0-1 is inbound hot. Danger close,” came the pilot’s response over comms.

“Copy,” Ghost said. “Falcon, clear your position and meet us at the third building.”

“Roger!” Y/N responded, her voice steady, though her pulse quickened. She moved swiftly, darting across the open terrain, every step calculated to avoid enemy sightlines. The air crackled with the distant roar of missiles and the sharp staccato of gunfire.

Sliding behind a large boulder near the rendezvous point, Y/N crouched low, her rifle at the ready. The tension was palpable as she adjusted her goggles and scanned the perimeter. Through the green haze of her optics, she spotted four hostiles guarding the front entrance of the building.

Too exposed, she thought, her fingers tightening on her weapon as she shifted slightly to stay out of sight. Her scan moved upward, toward the rooftop—

A crunch of dried grass behind her.

The sound hit her like a gunshot, adrenaline flooding her veins. She whirled around, rifle raised, her finger pressing against the trigger—

“Check fire!” Ghost’s bark shattered the moment, his voice sharp and unyielding.

Her breathing was ragged as her eyes locked onto him, his imposing figure partially shrouded in shadow. He didn’t flinch, his gaze fixed on her.

“You’re twitchy, Falcon,” he remarked, his tone as calm as it was cutting. “Keep your focus, or next time it won’t be me stepping on a twig.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her grip loosening slightly on the rifle. “Noted,” she muttered, forcing herself to steady her breathing.

“Good. Now stay sharp,” Ghost said curtly before stepping past her, his presence a reminder of the razor-thin margin between control and chaos.

Soap clapped his shoulder as he caught up. “Come on, let’s get this bastard!”

The team pressed forward, ready to breach the third building with military precision. 

But before they could reach the stone fence, the crack of a sniper's rifle cut through the air, and Bravo 7-6 crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Sniper on the roof! Get down!" Ghost’s sharp order rang out as the team scrambled for cover.

Y/N darted behind a stack of crates, her breathing steady despite the rush of adrenaline. She peeked out, scanning the rooftop through her gun’s scope. 

The glint of the sniper’s scope gave him away, and she didn’t hesitate. One precise shot, and the enemy dropped.

"Sniper down," she reported, her voice calm but firm.

"Good shot," Ghost replied, already strategizing. "Soap, keep us covered; we’re moving up. Falcon, check on the wounded. Let’s regroup after.”

Y/N nodded, holstering her weapon as she sprinted to Bravo 7-6’s side. He was sprawled on the ground, clutching his chest. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and ominous, soaking into the dirt. Her heart sank, but she forced herself to stay focused.

“Can you hear me?” she asked, dropping to her knees beside him.

He groaned weakly, his breaths shallow and labored. Y/N’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, pulling her med kit from her vest. She tore open his shirt to expose the wound—a clean entry point, but the exit wound on his back was ragged and bleeding heavily.

“Fuck-,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing gauze and applying firm pressure to stem the bleeding. “Hold on, you’re going to be fine.”

The man’s eyes fluttered, his grip on her arm weak. “Am I…?”

“Don’t talk,” Y/N interrupted, her voice steady but urgent. “Save your strength.”

She worked quickly, applying a hemostatic agent to slow the blood loss and securing a pressure bandage over the wound. But the more she worked, the clearer it became. The amount of blood he was losing—it was too much.

Y/N glanced at his vitals, her jaw tightening. His breathing was becoming erratic, his pulse faint.

“Come on, stay with me,” she urged, her voice soft but firm.

Bravo 7-6’s eyes met hers, filled with pain and something else—resignation. “Tell…my family…” His words were a whisper, fading fast.

“No,” Y/N cut in, her hands pressing harder against the bandage. “You’ll tell them yourself. Stay with me.”

Suddenly-

His body went still, the faint rise and fall of his chest ceasing. Y/N froze, staring at him as the reality settled over her like a crushing weight.

She bowed her head for a moment, her blood-streaked hands trembling before she forced herself to move. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her comms. “Bravo 7-6 is KIA,” she reported, her voice tight but steady.

A heavy silence followed on the line before Ghost responded. “Understood. Regroup when ready.”

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, her jaw clenched as she fought back the sting of failure. She reached out, gently closing Bravo 7-6’s eyes before standing and grabbing her rifle.

War didn’t allow for mourning, not now. She pushed the emotions down, compartmentalizing as she always did.

As Y/N reached the group, the team pushed through the building, clearing each floor with careful precision. The first deck yielded no sign of Hassan.

“Move to second deck,” Ghost directed, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

As they ascended, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the room next door. Y/N’s heart pounded as she instinctively raised her rifle, her eyes locking onto the figure that appeared at the top of the stairs—an AQ soldier.

In a flash, his weapon swung toward her, the muzzle glinting in the dim light. Y/N froze for a fraction of a second, her breath catching as she prepared to pull the trigger—

Bang. Bang.

Ghost’s pistol barked twice, the sharp reports ringing in her ears. The AQ soldier crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly beside him.

Y/N exhaled sharply, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she glanced back at Ghost. “Thanks, LT,” she muttered, her voice tight.

Ghost’s gaze was steady, his tone colder than the air around them. “Pay attention, Falcon. Hesitation gets you killed.”

Her jaw tightened, the sting of his words hitting harder than she expected. “Won’t happen again,” she replied, her focus snapping back to the mission as they moved forward.

They pressed on, moving deeper into the building, each corner turned with meticulous caution. The air grew heavier as the minutes stretched on, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t until Y/N’s eyes caught something—a discarded uniform—Hassan’s.

“Look Hassan’s uniform,” Soap says as he throws the garment towards Y/N.

“He was here,” Y/N said quietly, her fingers gripping the garment tight, her chest tight with frustration.

Ghost’s jaw tightened at the sight, his gaze flicking over the fabric before he spoke, his voice sharp. “We lost him at the crash site.”

The frustration that had been simmering inside Y/N finally boiled over. “Are you saying we shouldn’t have helped?” she shot back, her words sharp, her pulse quickening as anger mixed with doubt.

Ghost’s gaze snapped to hers, his expression hardening like stone. “Choices have consequences,” he said, his voice low but commanding, a warning that cut through the air between them. 

The tension was cut short by Bravo 7-2’s urgent call. “All Bravo, we’ve got movement out here!”

The team quickly regrouped, weapons raised, and made their way to the warehouse. The large metal doors groaned as Soap pushed them open, revealing pitch-black darkness inside.

“Stay sharp,” Ghost ordered, his voice low but commanding.

They stepped in cautiously, their boots crunching against debris-strewn floors. The faint smell of oil and metal hung in the air. Y/N’s grip on her rifle tightened, her eyes scanning every shadow.

Suddenly, a series of bright lights blazed to life, blinding the team.

“Contact!” Ghost shouted as the warehouse erupted into chaos.

Gunfire burst from every direction as AQ soldiers emerged from hidden positions. Bullets ricocheted off metal walls, the deafening sound of the ambush overwhelming. Y/N dropped to one knee, her vision still adjusting, and returned fire, taking down two attackers with quick, precise shots.

“Cover! Find cover!” Soap yelled, diving behind a stack of crates and opening fire.

Y/N scrambled behind a steel column, her heart pounding. The AQ soldiers were relentless, pushing the team hard. Ghost’s voice cut through the comms, calm but firm.

“Soap, flank left! Falcon, with me—clear the center!”

“On it!” Y/N replied, her voice steady despite the chaos.

She moved in sync with Ghost, the two of them working as a seamless unit. Ghost provided suppressing fire as Y/N advanced, picking off enemies with deadly accuracy. The soldiers were well-trained, but their ambush had flaws. Y/N exploited their lack of coordination, taking out one after another with calculated shots.

An enemy darted toward her from the shadows, a knife glinting in his hand. Y/N reacted instinctively, sidestepping and slamming the butt of her rifle into his face. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Across the room, Soap let out a triumphant shout. “Got ‘em on the run!”

The tide began to turn as the team pressed forward, clearing one section of the warehouse after another. The last of the AQ soldiers fell, and the room fell eerily silent, save for the team’s heavy breathing.

“Clear!” Soap called, his voice echoing in the vast space.

“Clear,” Y/N confirmed, scanning the room one final time.

Ghost’s voice was firm as he assessed the aftermath. “Good work. Let’s secure the area.”

As the team converged, the tension gave way to another discovery. In the far corner of the warehouse sat a series of large metal crate.

Her voice was low but sharp. “This… this doesn’t feel right.”

Ghost moved closer, his tone grim. “No, it’s not.”

Soap swore under his breath. “What the hell are they protecting here if Hassan’s gone?”

Y/N’s stomach churned as the reality of their discovery set in. “We’re about to find out.”

As the team moved circled the warehouse, finding any clues a discovery made the blood drain from Y/N’s face. The three entered the large blue metal crate only to be met with… missile controls, bearing English writing.

“What the hell” Soap says as he looks around. 

“It’s all in English…,” Ghost muttered darkly.

“Ballistic Missiles” Ghost says as examines the room. “It’s a mobile launcher” Soap responds 

“These’ll go a thousand miles,” Y/N whispered, her stomach twisting.

“At least,” Ghost confirmed grimly.

Soap cursed under his breath. “How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?” He says, as the two men exit the crate. 

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the missile controls, her mind racing. The discovery sent a cold chill through her veins. The implications were catastrophic. Hassan wasn’t just hiding here. He was orchestrating something much bigger, she thought, her gaze shifting from the missile controls to the other members of the team. They had stumbled upon something far beyond a simple terror cell.

Ghost’s voice came through her earpiece, low and deliberate, as if he could sense the same growing dread creeping through the team. “Bravo 7-6, get us through to Laswell. Now.”

“Roger. Stand by,” came Bravo 7-6’s reply, his voice calm but tense.

“This is Watcher-1, send traffic,” Laswell’s voice crackled through the comms, clear and sharp.

“Laswell, this is Ghost. We got something.” Ghost followed Soap as they circled the metal crate, both of them eyeing the missile perched above it. Soap climbed the plastic weapons crate for a better view, his eyes scanning for anything unusual.

“Ghost, tell me you found Hassan,” Laswell added, the urgency in her voice unmistakable.

“Ghost, take a look at this,” Soap’s voice was grim as he stepped aside, revealing an American symbol etched onto the missile. The sight made the air in the room grow thick with tension.

“Ghost, do you have Hassan?” Laswell’s voice came through again, a little more insistent this time.

Ghost looked up, his expression turning grim as he absorbed the gravity of the discovery. He responded with barely a pause. “Negative. We found a weapons cache. Hassan’s got missiles… they’re American.”

The comms crackled before General Shepherd’s voice cut through, cutting the tension like a knife. “Zero-Seven, this is Gold Eagle Actual. Repeat your last.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the crate once more before answering with unwavering clarity. “I’ll say again… Hassan’s got American missiles.” His voice was steady, but the weight of his words hung in the air, each syllable carrying the gravity of the situation.

She was still processing the situation at hand when General Shepherd’s voice cut through the comms, sharp and authoritative. “Gold Eagle Actual to Ghost—move your team and call for fire. I want those weapons destroyed.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the order. Destroy it? Everything they’d uncovered—American-made missiles in enemy hands, a lead that could unravel Hassan’s network—was about to go up in flames. The frustration boiled over, and before she could stop herself, she turned to Ghost, grabbing his arm.

“But sir,” she said urgently, her voice firm despite the chaos in her mind. “This is valuable intel. We’ve got proof right here! If we destroy this, we lose our chance to figure out where Hassan is. We lose answers!”

Ghost stopped mid-step, his gaze dropping to her hand gripping his arm before shifting to her face. His expression was unreadable, but his tone was sharp. “And if we leave it, they’ll use it. This isn’t leverage if it costs lives.”

Y/N’s grip tightened, her desperation spilling into her voice. “This could lead us to Hassan, Ghost. Isn’t that the bigger picture? We’ve been chasing ghosts—no pun intended—for weeks. This is our chance to get ahead of him!”

For a moment, his gaze softened, just enough to show he understood her frustration. But it vanished as quickly as it came. “The bigger picture,” he said evenly, “is making sure those missiles never see the light of day. We’ve got our orders, and orders don’t leave room for debate.”

She stared at him, heart pounding, unwilling to let go. Ghost’s tone shifted, quieter but no less firm. “Y/N, I get it. But this isn’t about what we want—it’s about what needs to be done.”

Y/N released his arm, her frustration tangible in the way her jaw clenched. “Understood,” she muttered, her voice tinged with bitterness.

“Good,” Ghost said curtly, turning back toward the cache. “Now, let’s finish this.”

“Roger that,” Ghost answers General Shepherd as he starts ordering the men to destroy the weapons cache. 

The finality in his words hit her like a punch to the gut. Y/N couldn’t argue with that. The mission had gone sideways in too many ways, and now they were being forced to destroy the very thing that could unravel everything.

The team began to set up the explosives, moving with practiced efficiency, but Y/N remained still, her mind running in circles. Her eyes were fixed on the crate, still open in front of her, the missiles and their controls lying in front of her as though mocking her inability to do anything about it.

As the team prepared for the final stages of the mission, Ghost moved closer to her. His steps were quiet, but his presence felt heavier with each passing second. 

She didn’t look at him as he stopped next to her, her gaze fixed on the intel right in front of her. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but when he did, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Snoop around with whatever you can find inside the crate while the others are distracted. Collect all the intel you can. This mission might be a bust, but that information could be a game-changer.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her frustration barely contained. His hand came down on her shoulder, a reassuring squeeze that felt almost out of place given the gravity of the situation. She met his eyes, but the tension between them was thick, unspoken, and heavy.

“Keep it discreet,” He says before walking over to help Soap move a large crate. 

With a fueled determination, Y/N turned back to the crate. She wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip. Not when the stakes were this high.

She methodically began collecting every piece of information she could find—encrypted files, military documents, a set of coordinates that made her heart race. The intel was even more crucial than she had first realized. It was the key to understanding what Hassan had been up to and what the AQ forces were planning.

Y/N didn’t waste time. 

She stuffed everything into her pockets, her movements quick and precise, her focus razor-sharp despite the chaos unfolding around her. With every document she gathered, the gravity of the situation pressed harder against her chest. This intel wasn’t just valuable—it was vital.

As she finished collecting the last of it, she stood up, the weight of the vest and pockets now resting heavily on her back. She glanced around, hearing the faint crackle of comms and the sound of distant explosions. 

Ghost was from afar, watching her closely, his face unreadable as always. She met his gaze for a moment, her breath steadying. She could feel the tension in the air, but there was something else, something unspoken. She could feel it between them, this heavy weight, this understanding that neither of them had wanted to address.

The moment passed quickly, and Ghost stepped forward, inspecting her eyes. His voice was a low murmur. “Good work, Falcon.” 

She nodded in response, but her mind was still reeling. She looked at the intel in her hands, her mind running through the possibilities. This could change everything—if they could get it back to Laswell, if they could make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. The consequences were too big to ignore.

“We need to get this back to Laswell,” Ghost said, his tone softer now, though still carrying that same weight of authority. “Stay sharp.”

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. She knew how important this moment was, how important the mission still was, despite the setbacks. She tucked the documents safely into her gear, ready to move out with the team.

The mission wasn’t over. It might have been a failure in some respects, but they still had a chance to turn it around. They had the intel. Now, all they had to do was make sure it got to the right hands before it was too late.

As they left the site, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was only the beginning. The real questions were just starting to surface, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face them. But with Ghost and the team at her back, she knew she had no choice but to push forward. The stakes had never been higher.

-

The shooting range was dimly lit, the scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Y/N stood at the far end, her focus razor-sharp as she emptied her magazine into the target. Each shot was a desperate attempt to channel her frustration, but the tension in her chest refused to dissipate.

The mission had been a failure. Hassan had slipped through their fingers, and now the fallout loomed large. The discovery of American missiles in enemy hands made it worse—a complication that left her questioning every decision made that day.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reloaded, the memory of the mission replaying on an endless loop in her mind.

She didn’t hear him at first-

“Your form’s off,” Ghost’s voice cut through the quiet, low and calm but carrying that edge that made her hackles rise.

Y/N turned sharply, glaring at him. “I don’t need your critiques right now, Ghost.”

He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “I’m not critiquing. I’m pointing out the obvious—you’re not focused. Which is quiet dangerous for someone holding a gun”

Her grip on the pistol tightened, knuckles whitening. “I am focused. Maybe I just can’t let today’s mess slide like you can.”

Ghost’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t back off, his tall frame and quiet intensity filling the space between them. “You think this was easy for me?”

Y/N’s voice cracked under the weight of her anger. “We lost Hassan! We had one job—to get him—and now we’re dealing with a goddamn nightmare. This is on me. I should’ve pushed harder, fought for better options—”

Ghost stepped closer, cutting her off. “Stop.” His voice was low, commanding, but with an edge of something softer. “It wasn’t your call. It was mine.”

She shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “Doesn’t matter. I should’ve seen it coming, done something—”

“Enough,” Ghost said, his tone firm as he stepped into her space. “You’re blaming yourself for something that was out of your hands.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but Ghost’s hands were suddenly on her arms, grounding her. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was steady enough to make her pause. His eyes locked onto hers, his voice quieter now, deliberate.

“Listen to me, Y/N. We make the best call we can with the intel we’ve got. That’s all we can do. Blaming yourself won’t bring Hassan back, and it sure as hell won’t help us move forward.”

Her breath hitched. His touch, his closeness—it was too much and not enough all at once. She didn’t pull away, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze fully either. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the anger inside her colliding with an overwhelming vulnerability she didn’t want to face.

“I—” Her voice faltered, her words caught somewhere between defiance and defeat.

“Breathe,” Ghost said softly. His voice was almost a whisper now, but it carried the weight of a command. 

“We’ll get another chance. But right now, you need to let this go.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was heavy, charged with unspoken emotions that neither seemed willing to address.

Finally, Ghost released her, stepping back with deliberate slowness. The space between them felt like a chasm, though the tension still clung to the air, thick and unresolved, suffocating in its silence.

Y/N fought to steady her breath, her pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with the shooting. The intensity of the moment pressed in on her from all sides. She could still feel the heat of his hands, the weight of his presence like a heavy coat wrapped around her shoulders.

“Take a break,” Ghost said, his voice steady but carrying an undertone that made her pause, making her heart stutter. “Clear your head. You’ll need it for what’s coming next.”

“Thanks for the advice, Lieutenant,” Y/N grunted, her words cutting through the tension, though her voice was tighter than she intended. She turned away, desperate to put some distance between them, but it didn’t help. Her heart was beating louder now, faster than usual, and her fingers trembled as she picked up the gun she'd left behind.

She raised it to the target, trying to center her focus, but the tension in her chest wouldn’t fade. Every shot felt like a misplaced action, the weight of her failure pressing down harder with each pull of the trigger.

But Ghost didn’t move away.

She felt his gaze on her—sharp, calculating, like he was dissecting every inch of her stance, analyzing every shift in her body. She could almost feel the weight of his eyes boring into her back.

“You’re overcompensating,” he said suddenly, his voice low and cutting through the air like a blade. The weight of his scrutiny settled on her like a thick fog.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her body instinctively stiffening as she glanced over her shoulder, startled. 

The words, the presence—they hit her like a gut punch. “Excuse me?”

Ghost didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved closer once more, each step measured, deliberate, his presence like a shadow that closed in, making her breath hitch. His proximity was suffocating.

Her fingers twitched around the rifle, but she refused to let her guard drop. She was too aware of him now, the tension between them palpable, suffocating.

His voice cut through the silence again, this time lower, almost too close. “You’re too tense. Your grip’s too tight. You’re not focused.”

Her chest tightened. She wasn’t sure if it was from the frustration or the growing awareness of how close he was. She didn’t need this right now—not this, not him, not the heat of his presence lingering in the space around her.

“I’m focused,” she shot back, her voice coming out harsher than she intended. She turned fully to face him, her stance defensive, as if bracing for something more.

Ghost’s gaze never wavered. He stepped even closer, until the space between them was almost nonexistent, his eyes never leaving hers, scrutinizing, analyzing. The air was thick, almost too thick to breathe.

“You think you can just muscle through this?” His voice dropped even lower, the gravel in it sending a shiver down her spine. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Her pulse was pounding in her ears now, every word, every movement magnified. His proximity made her feel exposed—vulnerable—and the tension between them was undeniable. His voice, his touch—everything about this was too much.

Y/N’s chest tightened, her grip on the rifle faltering for the briefest moment. Her breath caught, a flicker of hesitation crossing her mind before she steadied herself again. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice strained.

Ghost remained silent, but his gaze never left her. He reached forward, his gloved hand brushing against her arm once more, the contact sending an involuntary jolt through her.

"You're not fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, but it was enough to unsettle her. "And you’re not listening.”

Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. Every part of her screamed to break the silence, to pull away, but something about the way he stood there, so close, so unwavering, kept her rooted in place.

"Relax," Ghost murmured, his voice soft but commanding, and she felt the pressure on her shoulder again, grounding her in the moment. "This isn’t a fight you win by forcing it."

His touch lingered too long, enough to make her heart race even faster. And for a brief, unbearable second, she was caught in the pull between wanting to step back and being drawn closer to him.

He released her finally, but the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. It hung between them, thick and unresolved.

Y/N exhaled sharply, trying to regain some composure, but she was still reeling from the exchange. She shifted uncomfortably, keeping her eyes away from him. “You always this hands-on with everyone?” she asked, her voice forced, trying to mask the discomfort she felt.

Ghost didn’t answer right away. His gaze was unreadable, his posture still tense. His lips barely twitched beneath the mask—half smirk, half something deeper, something harder to decipher.

“Only when they need it,” he finally said, his tone unreadable.

Before he left, he patted her back once more, his hand firm, deliberate. It lingered there for a moment too long, enough to make her skin prickle, enough to leave a lingering sense of unease.

“Keep practicing, Falcon,” he said, his voice steady, but the words left a strange weight hanging in the air. “You’ll get there.”

And with that, he turned, his footsteps fading, but the energy he left behind refused to dissipate.

Y/N’s grip on the rifle tightened again, her heart still thudding in her chest. She stood there for a long moment, feeling the weight of his absence just as much as his presence. Whatever had passed between them—it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

As the door closed behind him, she stood there, gripping the edge of the shooting stall for support. Whatever had just passed between them—it was far from over.

[dixonsdarkelf]

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Vec’s legs moved at their own will, carrying her down the hall at a speed she would never be able to achieve on her own. The sound of her boots pounding the pavement echoed off the walls of West Georgia Correctional as she navigated her way toward Cell Block C, frantically trying to find the woman she called “Gin.” And as luck would have it, all she needed to do was round one more corner.

Georgie was returning to her cell, likely from the bathroom, given the towel in her hand. Vec didn’t know, and quite frankly, she didn’t care. This was no time to be asking questions.

The Hawkins woman picked her head up at the sound, half-expecting to see a group running in her direction with how loud it was. As her gaze met her best friend’s, her smile quickly faded, the look on her face conveying that whatever she was rushing to Georgie for was urgent. She wouldn’t have to wonder for long; though, as Vec’s words were flying off her tongue before Georgie could think to open her mouth.

“Gin, you need to come with me right now,” she demanded, panting through her words as she brought herself to a stop outside the cell. At the speed she’d been traveling, even Vec was surprised at her ability to slow herself to a stop without crashing.

Georgie nodded, already beginning to make her way inside her cell. “Of course. Give me just a minute to—“

Before she could finish with “put this towel down,” she was cut off, both by Vec grabbing her arm, ready to drag her away, and by her words. “Oh that’s funny. You think this can wait.” She began to pull Georgie behind her, the towel that was previously in her arms falling to the dirty concrete floor with a soft thud. “C’mon.”

She knew she was being more persistent than usual, but the circumstances called for it. There was no time to waste.

“Dia, slow down. What is going on?” Georgie pleaded, her bestie dragging her down hallway after hallway.

“We have a problem,” Vec explained. Her tone was desperate, almost panicked. Maybe cusping on the edge of frightened, but Georgie couldn’t be sure. The sound of their feet nearly drowned out their conversation.

“I figured as much,” Georgie replied, “what kind of problem?”

She ended their conversation with two simple words. “You’ll see.”

Pulling the teacher out into the afternoon Georgia heat, Vec directed her attention toward the front gate. They’d barely gotten outside before she started rattling off instructions. “Look.”

She took a moment to gain her footing as Vec released her, balancing against the railing in front of them. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Georgie peered out into the field before them. From their spot against the building, she saw Rick returning from his afternoon run. And he wasn’t alone. “Okay…so Rick’s got—“

“No, Gin,” the doctor interjected, crossing her arms over her chest, “I need you to really look.”

With a sigh, she squinted in an attempt to get a better look at them. After a few seconds, their familiar features became more clear, sending Georgie’s heart plummeting into her already-churning stomach. Now, she understood why this was so urgent. Why her best friend was moving faster than an Olympic sprinter through the prison to find her.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

We’re trying something new where we post little snippets of future fics while we’re between chapters. If you only want to be tagged in fics, please let us know.

Vec belongs to me, Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

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[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

FIFTEEN: STARTING FRESH.

“A little more, sugar,” Geto pants. “C’mon, you can do it. Just give me one more.”  “Deeper,” Gojo whispers to you. “Don’t fight it, darlin’.” 

Sweat gathers on your brow and you grip the nightstand beside you as you press your foot flat onto the ground. “Ow, shit!” you shout, your entire ankle burning. With your other hand, you grip Geto’s hand who gives you moral support while Gojo sits in front of you, ready to catch you in case you fall. 

“And time,” Nanami says, looking away from the clock hanging up on the wall. “You broke your record for last week. Nicely done.” He jots something down in his notes, standing near the door in his coat and glasses. 

Gojo claps his gloved hands while you finally sit down on the edge of the hospital bed, panting. Geto passes you a glass of water which you greedily slurp. “Who would’ve thought a damn snake bite would knock my whole foot out of commission?” you sigh. 

You stare down at your wrapped foot, glad to see your toenails looking less icky, but your foot still burns like a bitch. However, it isn’t as bad as when you first woke up since Nanami has been giving you antibiotics, infusions, and physical therapy. 

It’s been almost two weeks since you awakened in Nanami’s infirmary. Two weeks in Willow Springs. Two weeks of quietness and living life without being on the run or paranoid. Since then, Nanami, the Gunslingers, and your parents have been here to check on you every single day. You appreciate it more than words can express. 

The Gunslingers have been especially supportive for the past two weeks: bringing you fresh clothes; sneaking in late a night to tell you jokes; sitting with you while you sleep, etc. You try not to let these little things mean so much to you.

Gojo smirks at you from his chair, his hair slightly flat from his cowboy that. You think it’s cute. “Not bad, little darlin’,” he chuckles. “Soon you’ll be able to ditch this and get back to wearin’ those sexy boots.” He lightly taps your wrapped-up foot with his, making you swat him away. 

“Please,” you scoff. “But yes, they are sexy.” 

Geto gives a big, bellied laugh at this, the sound filling you with butterflies. You are now at the point in your “relationship” where that easiness and comfort feel so natural. It’s kind of frightening but you also like it. 

Luckily, these thoughts are pushed aside for the time being when there is a knock on the open door. There, in the doorway, stand your parents. “Knock, knock!” Yuri calls. “We come bearin’ gifts!” She carries a pan inside the room, Eren walking in behind her carrying a gift bag. 

Yuri pecks you on the forehead first before greeting the Gunslingers by uncovering the pan, revealing a batch of her famous oven-baked lemon custard pastries. Gojo jumps up immediately, ogling at the delicious goods. “You bought ‘em!” he giddily shouts. “And these are homemade, right?” 

Yuri tosses her head back and laughs. “Why, I’d hope so,” she cackles. “I was the one who made ‘em!” Geto knocks Gojo out of the way, bowing as he takes the pan. “Ignore him,” he sighs. “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Tokiyami.” 

Your mom just about swoons and you resist the urge to roll your eyes while Eren kisses you on the cheek. “And we have somethin’ for you, Dr. Nanami,” he says, smiling at the stoic doctor. He passes him the gift bag, much to his shock. “It’s just somethin’ small to show our appreciation to you,” he explains. “Y/N insisted on helpin’ us pay for it.” 

Nanami looks at you, shocked. “Seriously?” he asks. “You didn’t have to.” You shrug, smiling pridefully at doing something good. “I know I didn’t, but you deserve it for takin’ care of me.” 

You had planned it in secret with your parents during their visits, thinking of a good gif for he doctor. You finally decided on a glass plaque titled with his name and Number #1 Doctor. Nanami peers down at the plaque before looking up at you, touched and bashful. “This really wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” 

Your smile brightens and unbeknown to you, it causes Nanami to blush. “You’re very welcome, Kento.” Your parents share a look while Gojo glares at his partner. “They on first name basis now?” he asks before getting shushed by Geto. 

“So what brings you two here?” you giggle, your attention now on your parents. Yuri helps Gojo open the pan and passes you a pastry. “Well, me and your father been talkin’,” she explains, “and we figured that now you’re recoverin’ and you’ll be stayin’ here for a while, maybe you’d want to be more comfortable in our home instead of an infirmary…no offense, Doctor.” 

Nanami shakes his head, holding the plaque near his chest. “None taken,” he chuckles. “I would say yes too.” You slowly bite and chew into the sugary, lemony pastry. “You want me to come stay with y’all?” you ask. Eren nods, groaning from his old knees as he akes a sea on your bedside. “And your friends too, if they accept.” 

You blink at him, shocked by his willingness to let outlaws in his house considering how he feels about them. “Us?” the Gunslingers ask in unison, both shocked. Gojo beams, crumbs from the pasty all over his mouth. “Sure, we’d love–” 

Geto stops him, placing a hand on his mouth. “What my partner meant to say, ma’am, is that we’re so honored and grateful for the offer, but we should let Y/N spend time with y’all alone and enjoy her recovery. We wouldn’t wanna bring no trouble.” 

“Me either,” you agree. “Mama, Papa, as much as I want to say yes, I think I’d be best if I stayed here.” 

Eten looks at his wife, then at Nanami, and then at you, his expression darkening. “Is someone after you?” he asks, his eyes serious.

You bite your lip, struggling to answer. Even though Benji and his people haven’t shown themselves in weeks and Nanami told you no one outside of Willow Springs knows of your whereabouts, you are still weary. You can’t get your family involved. 

“Who isn’t after us?” Gojo wryly chuckles. “Sherriffs, police, rival outlaws…we’re walkin’ targets basically.” 

“Here, you aren’t,” Nanami replies, placing the plaque in his gift bag. “As I said before, this county is fairly quiet, but only because the sheriff chose to be quiet about your whereabouts. He and the people here respect your work despite the violence.” He locks eyes with you, holding them. “Trust me; no one knows you’re here.” And you believe him. 

Eren takes your hand in his, encasing it in his calloused, aged ones. “After all these years, we want to have you back with us again,” he softly says. “And we’d like to invite the men who protected you and saved your life to join. It’s the least we can do.” 

You gape at him, shocked at his kindness, and then look at the duo for their opinion. “We’ll pay you back,” Geto offers. “I can cook and Gojo can clean.” Gojo side-eyes him, still chomping on his snacks. 

“Oh, the money won’t be necessary,” Yuri chuckles. “But the help will be needed for us old folk.” And so the decision is made. You can’t believe how easy it is, feeling like you’re dreaming. 

An hour later, you are discharged from the hospital and using a cane for the time being. “At least for a week,” Nanami explained as he handed you the medicine for your bite. “Make sure you take two twice a day, morning and night, with water. I’ll give you some ointment to help clear it up.” 

You hold all of your snake bite medication in a little paper bag while you stand outside of Nanami’s infirmary with him. Eren is packing your things in the backseat of his automobile while Geto and Gojo are busy getting their horses so they can get their items and meet you at your parents’ house later. 

“So this is it,” you laugh. “I know you’re probably happy to get me outta your hair.” Nanami cracks a smile and shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says and again, you believe him. 

You awkwardly shift on your cane, still getting used to it. You can’t wait until you can finally walk and stand on your own without feeling any pain. “Thank you again for your help.” 

The doctor clears his throat, probably not used to receiving such gratefulness. “Don’t mention it,” he says. “And…” He pauses, his eyes quickly flitting over your parents and the Gunslingers. He leans in, his green eyes soft. “You know that if you need anything, you’re welcome here at any time…for your wound, that is.” 

His cheeks tun a light pink that you pass off as being an effect of the heat. You smile, touched by his kindness. “Thank you, Kento,” you whisper. “You’re a great man.” You lay a hand on his atm and gently squeeze it. Nanami looks down at yout hand, taken aback by the slight, fiendly touch. 

You then release him and begin to slowly walk away, leaning on your cane for support. “Y/N,” he says, stopping you short. You turn around, noticing how fitm his expression is, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Be careful with them.” 

You have no idea what he’s talking about at first until you hear a horse whiny from behind you. You turn, watching the Gunslingers gallop on their horses down the road and you see Nanami watch them, his mouth fixed. You realize instantly that he doesn’t trust Geto and Gojo. Not to the extent you do anyway. He probably still sees them as your father does: nothing but no-good outlaws. 

You immediately feel the need to defend your friends and so you do. “They should be careful with me,” you chuckle, “but thanks, I will.” You give Nanami a wink before you head towards your parents. 

Eren takes your cane to put in the back while Yuri helps you into the backseat, looking back at Nanami who stands there still watching you. “Oh, my,” she swoons. “You’ve got gunslingers and a doctor wrapped around your finger? I taught ya well, my dear.” 

“Mama,” you whine. 

********** 

That sunny afternoon, you venture out of your parents’ house to go looking for the horses in their stable. 

It is a pleasant, sun-filled midday, about 82 degrees with blue skies and fluffy, white clouds that look soft to the touch. A perfect day for riding. You haven’t been riding since your snake bite and have been itching to do so since your father told you that there are pastures just beyond the farm. 

You just finished unpacking your items and settling into your new home…for the time being, that is. Your parents’ home is a fifteen-minute drive away from town square which makes going for errands, supplies, and emergencies very convenient. Your parents live on a 500-acre farm in a cozy house with a brick roof, chimney, a fireplace in the living room and bedrooms, and a porch for warm evenings such as this one. 

The farm comes with a barn full of animals and a vegetable garden that Eren is very proud of, each separated by a wired fence. Each neighbor’s home is a couple feet away from each other, serving for privacy but also community, and a forest behind the farm that stretches on for yards that Eren often walks to stay limber. 

Yuri had fixed you and the Gunslingers lemonade and ginger snap cookies to celebrate you moving in while Eren put your horses out in the stable where the barn is so they would be more comfortable. You took your lemonade and cookies up to your bedroom located on the left side of the hallway. It is quaint and small with cherrywood furniture, a private bathroom, and horse plushies sitting up a flannel quilt. The plushies were Yuri’s idea, apparently. 

It truly is a cozy, wonderful little life that your folks live. One that you’ve been craving for. One that you hope to get later in your more seasoned years. 

You realize just how much you wish for it when you were given your own bedroom with your own bathroom and vanity for “lady things” as Yuri calls them. When you unpacked your things for your drawers, took a hot bubble bath, and dressed in the fancy sundress Yuri bought you, you felt normal. Human, even. 

You feel it now in your bones as you wobble on your cane with a book to the horse stables near the fire-engine red barn housing all of the farm animals. The sun warms the skin exposed by your sundress that sways slightly against your legs in the cool breeze. You paired the dress with riding boots and your cowgirl hat, panting from the effort it takes to travel with your cane.

You don’t know if horseback riding is allowed with your injury, but you’ll take an earful from Nanami and your parents later. You need to enjoy this moment while it lasts. So you wobble into he horse stable and immediately spo your girl in her own clean sall between Geto and Gojo’s huge Brancos. Your parents already own three horses, one of them much too old for riding or racing, so she’s used as a petting animal for kids who visit. 

You say hello to the three horses–Charlotte, Johnson, and Mable The Old Lady–before you make it to Reneigh. She knows your presence immediately and begins flapping her ears. “Hey, girl,” you whisper, gently patting her behind. “Whatdya say we take a ride, huh?” 

“I’d say you’re not supposed to be doin’ that,” a familiar, deep, velvety voice replies. 

You let out a terrified shriek and jump, nearly dropping your cane. You turn sound, finding Geto and Gojo standing off in the corner like two serial killers with cowboy boots and hats. Geto is sitting on a sool, his big, sexy thighs sptead wide while he dusts off a riding seat while Gojo is feeding his horse some oats from the front of the stall. No wonder you missed him with horse ass in your face. “Jeez!” you gasp. “You two come with a bell or somethin’?” 

Gojo full on laughs while Geto stifles his. “Sorry for the scare,” he chuckles, though he doesn’t seem too apologetic. “We were just tendin’ to our rides. They’re fittin’ in quite nicely here.” 

“Have we introduced you to ‘em?” Gojo questions. Then he gasps like you just murdered somebody. Dramatic ass. “We didn’t! Y/N, this is Goro”–he pats his horse's side–"and this is Riku! Say hi, fellas!”

The horses flap their tails as if to say ‘hello’. “So what brings you out here, little miss?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be followin’ the doc’s orders and layin’ that pretty little ankle on a pillow?” 

He raises a brow at you over his shades, a knowing smirk on his face. You ignore the way your stomach flips at him calling your ankle pretty. “I’ve done enough of that,” you scoff. “Besides, he didn’t say anything about horseback ridin’. I haven’t taken Reneigh for a while in a minute, so I feel guilty for that.” 

You gently stroke your darling horse’s side, pouting at her. You know she’s been just as eager to have the wind in her mane and the world whistling in her ears as you have been. You crave it: the warm sun on your face; the wind in your hair; your heart pounding along with your blood as you feel your horse’s body move beneath yours. 

Gojo pouts at you, feeding reneigh and riku oats before lowering the bucket down. “Aw, you ain’t the only one, darlin’,” he tuts. “Actually, that’s a great idea! Your papa said the pastures here are beautiful and the fields make ya feel like you’ve entered heaven.” 

You can just picture those rolling hills and endless fields now. “So you’re sayin’ y’all are comin’ with me?” you ask.

You don’t why this makes you feel so weird. Your head is pounding like a migraine is coming on and your stomach is fluttering with annoying butterflies. You can’t understand why. You’ve been horse riding with duo plenty of times before! But then again, those times were for traveling and survival purposes. 

Geto passively shrugs as he stands up with his saddle and moves to strap it on riku’s back. “If ya want. Besides, what if you need the help if your ankle starts givin’ you trouble?” He gives you a megawatt smile that makes him look so boyish and cute. “We’re just bein’ good partners.” Gojo eagerly nods, agreeing with his partner's reasoning. 

Despite wanting this time for yourself, he does have a point. Feeling cornered by the two cute idiots, you give in. “Alright,” you sigh. “But I have to be back in time to help my mama with supper.” Gojo excitedly claps and you damn near laugh. “I’ll get the snacks!” he shouts and quickly runs back to the house. 

Silence falls upon you and Geto, but neither one of you try to fill it as he positions Gojo’s saddle on his horse too. You don’t attempt to do yours or ask Geto to do it for you. You should be fine without a saddle, right? Quickly, you realize how wrong and how stubborn you are when you attempt to mount Reneigh once you coax her out of her stall. You have to awkwardly put your cane in the crook of your armpit while you grab Reneigh’s side. 

You go to hook one leg over her back, grunting as you do. You flinch at the sharp throb of pain, emitting a slight gasp from you. You try to bite it back, but Geto hears you anyway and immediately comes over. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone “no nonsense”. If it wasn’t for the pain, you’d find it kinda of hot. 

“Just my ankle,” you sigh, rolling your ankle around. “S’fine, Geto. I just forgot the saddle and I need to use my other foot.” You give him a reassuring smile, but it fades when you get a look at his pursed lips. He isn’t happy. 

Without a word, he finds your saddle sitting on a stool and hooks it carefully on Reneigh’s back along with her reins. Then he turns to you and wraps his arms around you, bending his knees slightly to reach your height. “Whoa, hey!” you shout. You step away from him, putting your cane between his body and yours. “W-What are you—“ 

“Puttin’ you on your horse,” he replies as if it should be obvious. You scowl at him, suspicious, and he rolls his eyes. “You obviously need the help or you’re gonna mess your progress up. I’m sure Nanami wouldn’t be too happy with that.” 

Though he looks sick of your shit, you see a glimmer of something in his eyes. You aren’t sure what it is, but it doesn’t make you feel the least bit unsafe or concerned…and that makes you feel unsafe and concerned. What is it about these men that makes you feel so unarmed? 

Despite still being hesitant, you lean your cane against the wooden stall and let Geto take hold of you. He is gentle in the way he wraps an arm around the small of your back and the other hooking under your legs, bridal style. You go as stiff as a board, your heart pounding madly in your chest. His scent of sweat, mint, and wilderness—the sun, the trees, the grass—are tattooed on his skin and clothes, invading your nostrils. 

You unconsciously turn your head and breathe in the scent of his hair. It smells so sweet, like crisp apples, yet twinged with evergreen leaves. “Are you…smellin’ me?” Geto laughingly asks. 

You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. “I smelled somethin’ bad,” you reply, bite in your tone. “Thought it was you, but it’s just the horse stalls.” The outlaw chuckles in response to your retort, his broad chest rumbling. It makes your stomach flip. 

You’re so glad to finally be away from him when he carefully places you on Reneigh’s back, securely holding your hips as you place one leg over each side of the horse. Once you’re finally settled, he steps back and smirks up at you. “Comfy?” he asks. 

Even with you finally on your horse, he doesn’t immediately step away. It’s as if he’s making absolutely sure that you’re okay. Such a gentleman. “Yeah,” you grumble, gripping Reneigh’s reins a little too hard. “Thanks.” 

Geto nods, fixing you with a rather intense gaze that makes you feel uneasy. Luckily, Gojo comes back so you don’t have to spend too long alone with him, completely oblivious to the chemistry exploding between his two partners. 

“I’ve got the snacks!” he happily announces, waving a brown picnic basket around. “Ginger snap cookies, Granny Smith apples, and sweet tea. Now let’s head out, kids, before the sun leaves us.” 

Once all horses are mounted, you all ride them out of the barn and into the beaming sunlight. You ride in silence away from your parents’ arm, traveling up the small hills of rolling grass blades that sway softly in the summer breeze. The only sounds are from the rustling leaves of the trees, the buzzing of bees, and Gojo’s soft whistling. 

As you get farther away from the farm, you get closer to the pastures. The sight is beautiful and glorious enough for a painting: green hills and wheat fields grace your eyes as far as they can see, stretching to meet the blue sky coated in fluffy, white clouds that make you think of cotton candy. The breeze is cool against your face, sweetened by the scent of grass and distant flowers. 

Reneigh’s back shifts underneath you as she walks among the pastures, her main waving softly in the wind. Feeling her muscles and soft fur under your hands makes you feel somewhat emotional. You think about if you had died from those train tracks or that snake bite, you would never be here to experience this beautiful day that others may take for granted. You’re so happy to be sharing this peaceful moment with her. 

The Gunslingers too. You look over to them, catching them ride their horses slowly and lazily, their hats pulled low to block out the sun. As if sensing your eyes on him, Gojo turns to you, wearing his shades, and smiles. “Isn’t this perfect?” he asks. 

‘Yes,’ you think. ‘This is perfect.’ 

For the first time in a while, you feel a sobering sense of peace and happiness. It makes you feel warm and giddy all over like a kid on Christmas Day. Suddenly, everything is perfect and you can’t stop the smile that stretches across your face. 

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you gently snap Reneigh’s reins twice. She knows the drill. She picks up speed and takes off in front of Geto and Gojo who look on in confusion as you speed off through the rolling glades. ”What are you doing?” Geto calls after you. 

You turn to look at them over your shoulder, your hair in your face and your hand gripping your hat so it stays on your head. “Race me!” you laughingly shout. “Whoever’s last up that hill is a rotten egg!” You point to the biggest hill in the distance where the wheat fields are. 

Gojo and Geto share a bewildered look before breaking out into a smile. Gojo whoops and sends his horse running after you while Geto tosses his head back and laughs. “You’re so childish,” he cackles, but snaps the leather reins on his horse and follows after you. 

The outlaws chase after you, hot on your fields as your horses bound through the grass, up and down the slopes of hillsides. The only sounds are of the horses’ hooves pounding against the ground, your pants, and the wind rushing through your ears. All the sounds, tastes, and feelings mix inside of you, creating a high and a rush that zips through your fingertips and toes; splashes warmth all over your brain; makes your heart pump. 

This is life. This is what living is about. Not running from the law or murderous criminals. Not survival. You can’t help but laugh and scream, raising one hand up to let the wind slip through your fingers. “Woooo!” you shout, your joyful scream carried among the wind. 

You tilt your head back, close your eyes, and laugh at the sun, letting it warm your face, basking in its light. When Reneigh finally slows to a stop, you open your eyes and find Gojo already at the top of the hill. “I win!” he laughs. “Guess you’re the rotten egg today, little miss.”

Geto makes a close second, telling Gojo that he cheated. You’re too happy and content to be sour about losing, breathing heavily and still in the high that nature and good company gave you. 

You walk with Reneigh the rest of the way up until you meet the outlaws and scout the fields for a good spot. “Here’s a good spot,” Geto says, nodding at the quaint area beneath a canopy of trees to block out the sun. “Let’s give those hooves a rest.” 

You leave the horses to graze while you set up for lunch. You sit beneath one of the trees, your legs folded carefully underneath you so as to not irritate your ankle. Geto and Gojo sit an arm’s length from you, enjoying the weather and the food. Gojo lounges on his side, chomping down on the cookies and downing a bottle of sweet tea while Geto sits against a tree, his hat sitting on his lap as he chomps into an apple, creating a crunch sound every time his teeth sink into the flesh. 

It is silent, but it’s a peaceful, content silence. You don’t need to try to talk or make any unnecessary noises to make you all feel comfortable. The sounds of nature do that for you—the buzzing of bees; the chirp of birds; the slight chuffing of the horses. 

To anyone who may venture across you three, they would simply pass it off as three friends having a picnic. 

Or a date. 

Gojo is suddenly beside you, nearly scaring you to death because you didn’t sense him fast enough. “Whatcha readin’?” He asks, poking his head over your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet. It must be good.” 

You roll your eyes and show him the cover of the book you got from Eren’s study. He’s been letting you have free range of his book collection since you moved in. “It’s about a pirate who stored away a prized treasure that everyone is after,” you explain. “The ‘One Piece’, it’s called, and it’s apparently based on a true story.” 

Gojo nods, looking interested or at least pretending to be so. He peers up at you from over his sunglasses, his blue eyes twinkling with sunbeams. The sight is almost devastatingly beautiful. “I never took ya as a bookworm,” he says, humorously, smirking. “It’s cute.” 

Geto chuckles from his spot, still chomping on his apple. You turn away from Gojo, shooing him away like he’s a bug. “Is flattery embedded in your DNA?” you scoff before going back to your book. You try to follow the words on the page, but the feeling of some damn eyes on you makes your brain short circuit.

Fed up, you turn, finding both men staring at you. “What?” you demand, raising an eyebrow at them. 

Gojo puts a hand up in defense, quickly looking away. Geto, however, doesn’t, his dark eyes soft as they regard you. “You just seem so…relaxed,” he says. “It’s a nice change, y’know? I like seein’ you like this.” 

The corner of his mouth peers up into a half-smile. Gojo agrees, nodding like a bobblehead. Butterflies flap around in your stomach at Geto’s sweet and genuine (and almost intimate) words. But isn’t this what friends are like? They like seeing each other happy, don’t they? And you do consider Geto and Gojo your friends, despite everything.

“Well, I like it too,” you quietly admit as if the very realization just came to you. 

Gojo puts his hands behind his head, settling into the wheat stalks below him. “Me too,” he yawns. “I could get used to this kinda life. The easy-like-Sunday-mornin’ life, y’know? No fuss, no muss, no runnin’ for our lives…” He tilts his head up to look up at the sky. “That would be a pretty sweet future.” 

You look at him and then at the sky, wondering what he sees in it. “What about you, Y/N?” he asks, smiling at you. “What does your future look like? You wanted to come to Willow Springs for a better one, right?” 

You blink at him and Geto who also looks interested in your answer. “My future…” You take a moment to truly think about it. You weren’t expecting that question. Though it’s so simple, it seems to take you forever to answer it. What does your future look like? 

“You said before that this place meant freedom to you,” Geto says, gently coaxing you to think. “Is it still that?” The two patiently wait for you to respond. 

So you think. Really think. You try to picture yourself in five, ten, twenty years from now. What would you be like? What would life be like for you? Would you still live in Willow Springs after wanting to come here for so long? Finally, after a moment of silence, you nod and lower your book. 

“Yeah,” you answer after some consideration. “I want my future to be…freedom, peace and happiness. To be able to walk around without hidin’ my identity. To have a real, honest job that doesn’t involve lyin’ and killin’ to survive. To own my own home with a red brick roof near a lake and a bunch of land for horse ridin’. To…I dunno, fall in love, have a family…” 

You trail off, flushing when you realize you’ve been rambling. But the two don’t look at all bored or uncomfortable by it. In fact, they look genuinely interested like you’re a movie they want to see the end of.

“That’s beautiful, Y/N,” Geto says and there isn’t anything teasing about it. He is genuine, his smile and eyes warm like a toasty fire. “I’d want that too.” 

You can’t help but smile back. “Hey,” Gojo suddenly says as if a thought just popped into his head. “Can we be in your future then?” 

You blink at him, your brain slowly processing his words. Even when they successfully do, you’re still confused. Is this a proposal or something? “Huh?” you ask, voicing your confusion. 

Gojo sits up, the sunlight turning his silver hair into spun gold and illuminating his handsome face. “Well, it seems to me that we both want the same future—peaceful, content, and super boring. So maybe we can achieve that together.” He turns to you, his smile damn near blinding you. “Ya think?” He asks. 

He sounds so hopeful. So sure that you’ll say yes and that everything will be fine. You sit there quietly, unable to speak or to think. You never even thought about the Gunslingers staying in your life longer than now. Could it be possible? Would they even stick around? 

Sensing your conflict, Geto jumps in. “Well, you think about it,” he says with a comforting smile. “And for the record, that kinda life ain’t boring. Gojo’s just a whore for action.” The white-haired outlaw pegs an apple at him that Geto catches with ease in his big hands. 

You close your book, suddenly not interested in what’s in it anymore.

Finally, you answer: “I’ll think about it” is all you say, but it’s enough for them....

For now.

[xiiithhazard]

The Grim - Chapter 1

I didn’t like the fact that an amazing setting like The Grim was sidelined and turned into a glorified battle arena. So, this is what The Grim should have been. (Sonic Prime Universe.)

…

Word Prompt 11 – Adventure

@year-of-the-echidna

…

Chapter 1:

“Not agaaaaaaain!” Sonic screamed, frustration tearing through him as he found himself falling into yet another new world. This one just as different as the last three he had been dragged into through unknown magical means. But something was off this time. Something was missing. Something important.

Land

And not in the same way as No Place, heck he might have even preferred the water at this point. As this world appeared devoid of – well – a world. It was just night skies and clouds, for as far as he could see.

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic.” He told himself, trying to flip around in the air, to control his movement. And searched in every direction for – something – anything. And he found it. However, it came in the form of a massive cyclone of angry-looking clouds, and he was falling right into the eye of it.

“Oh, come on.” He grumped, but the sound was ripped away by the howling winds, that were quick to throw him around like a BB in a can. It only took a couple seconds before he had no idea if he was even going down anymore. Until he smacked face first into something very real and solid.

“Ow.” He muttered into the object, as the rest of his body collapsed. But let out a sigh of relief, glad to be on solid ground again.

Or – was it?

He opened his eyes, as he heard rock music playing nearby, and noticed that themetal thing he’d landed on was moving. Pushing himself up, he looked around, growing more apprehensive by the second, as he realized that he was on the deck of an airship.   

“Uh oh.” He whispered for the only people he knew with ‘airships’ would be the council or Eggman. “Da!” He gasped when a sleek, metal arrow hit the deck, not an inch from his face, and proceeded to explode with electricity. Prompting him to bolt to his feet, and dart across the deck, as another flew past his ear.

“Uh – I come in peace.” He tried, when he ran straight into a wall and turned toward the source of the arrows. Only for three more to lodge themselves in the metal surface. Forcing him to stand at an awkward angle to avoid them all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He cried out in a panic. Running in zig zags, trying to find a way off the ship without having to go through the sharpshooter from hell.

Fate had other ideas, however, as a bolt of lightning proceeded to strike the ship. Sending the whole thing careening to one side. And, seeing as he wasn’t fortunate enough to be bolted down, Sonic was also sent sliding across the deck, until he splatted against the railing wall again. Though he was glad to see a huge piece of machinery sucking up the electricity, he wasn’t burned to a nice black crisp.

“I hate walls.” He complained, rubbing at his repeatedly abused face, before a pair of feet landed directly in front of him. Forcing him to backpedal, managing to escape the crossbow shoved in his face by inches, before he got back on his feet. Only for the ship to right itself and he promptly fell on his face. While his attacker just descended the rotating walls with effortless control, each step secured by their magnetic boots.

“Hey, look I’m not –” Sonic tried again, holding his hands up, only to freeze when he got a look at the sharpshooter. Though they were clad in an outfit reminiscence of a ninja’s, complete with a hood that covered the face, he was able to catch a glimpse of their crossbow, which was attached directly to their right arm, which was robotic.

“Well, that makes this easier.” He whispered to himself grinning, as he no longer had reason to hold back and flipped backward, catching the robot’s weapon on the upward kick, while also getting him back to his feet all last. Thus, he was able to get back up to speed. Though keeping ahead of the insane marksman proved harder than he would have liked, as the slick floor, constant winds, and lack of space to run made the whole process rather difficult. So, he decided to just use it to his advantage instead.

With the wind at his back, he took a chance and ran at the robot, allowing himself to slide across the deck and under its legs, to get into its blind spot. However, before he could even manage a sassy remark, the air in his lungs was expelled, when something wrapped around his arms and chest. He hit the deck a second later, hard enough to leave him counting the little birdies, before he was unceremoniously yanked across the floor. Coming to rest at the feet of yet another of the ship’s residents. But, after taking a peek, Sonic realized that he recognized this one.

"Knuckles?" The name left his mouth before he could stop it. And the echidna paused for a moment, as he curled the other end of the rope around his hand, slight recognition on his face. And, for the first time since arriving, Sonic felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe—just maybe—he was finally home.

But Knuckles planted a firm foot against the closest section of rope, keeping Sonic pinned in place and allowing the hedgehog a clear view of his face. Which made it very clear that this was not in home world, or any of the others for that matter.

Not only was this Knuckles wearing a cowboy hat and leather jacket, but he was also quite a bit older. His was taller, his dreads were longer, and he now had one normal and one mechanical eye.

“Don’t move.” He ordered, his tone was calm, but there was an underlying level of warning, that made Sonic obey out of pure fear. Only for the ninja he’d been fighting earlier to run over as well, causing the hood to be caught by the wind and thrown away, revealing yet another of his friends – that were not actually his friends.

“Amy?” He whispered in horror. Realizing that he had almost attacked her without restraint. If Knuckles hadn’t been there, he might have hurt her – or worse.

“Quick little nuisance, isn’t he?” She stated with annoyance. Before leveling her crossbow arm at him again. But he only found himself deflating at the realization that this was yet another version of her that had been robotized. Well, at least it was just her arm this time. But still. “Now how did you get on the ship?”

“I – fell.” Sonic answered, trying to get away from the point of her arrow, but the rope made it impossible.

“From where?” She countered and he snapped his mouth shut, realizing that even from the little he’d seen of the sky, there was nothing that he could have fallen from. “Are you an Aparoid?” She snarled, her bow ready to fire, if he so much as blinked the wrong way. That is until Knuckles reached over to put his hand on the weapon, forcing her to lower it. However, Sonic found himself almost preferring the bow, as he now had to deal with that scary red laser of an eye narrowing in on him instead. But it didn’t linger this time. As the echidna reached up to touch his ear instead.

“Yes Captain.” He spoke into what had to be a com-link, his tone displaying a great deal of respect for whoever was on the other end of the line. “Uncertain.” He admitted, looking back at Sonic from the corner of his eye, then paused again. “Contained.” He answered, before his attention shifted to the sky, as lightning struck the ship and everything shifted again. But neither Knuckles nor Amy appeared to notice, as their boots kept them attached to the deck.

Sonic was about to ask where he could get himself a pair of those, when a shadow flew through the clouds behind his two other-dimensional friends. Causing them both to turn, as if instinct alone had informed them of its presence.

“What was that?” The hedgehog squeaked. As the thing hadn’t looked like any living creature he’d ever encountered. It had been too disproportionate – too sharp.

Not-Amy didn’t bother to answer him. As she readied her crossbow again and moved to stand back to back with Not-Knuckles. Guarding their position, while he continued to talk to his com-link, as if nothing was amiss.

“Looks like we have a swarm, Captain.” He spoke over the wind. Pulling a gun from the holster at his side, and casually examined the clouds, as more and more of the shadow things swept through the storm. Then at random and without even looking, he fired off a round of what looked to be pure light. The sound it made it return was nothing short of actual thunder, causing Sonic to duck despite knowing he wasn’t the target. Only to look up again, when something large and squishy smashed into the deck.

He couldn’t get a good look at it, as he was still wrapped up in rope and the storm was only getting worse, making it so dark that he could no longer see his own feet. But that didn’t stop him from bolting when the cry of some kind of animal screeched from the clouds, like something straight out of his worst nightmares. But Not-Knuckles yanked him back with the rope, causing the hedgehog to face plant with the metal floor once again.

“They’re starting to land, Admiral.” Not-Amy spoke from the darkness. The sound of her crossbow coming every couple of seconds, which was followed by more screams or thunks of impact, as creatures fell to her skill.

“Noted.” Not-Knuckles declared, somehow still keeping calm, as he fired off a couple more rounds from his gun. Then he yanked on the rope again and Sonic found himself flung up to be carried like a bag under the guy’s arm.

“Hey, I can walk.” He complained. Only for the gun to be fired again, right over his head this time. And he made an undignified noise of shock, before a creature splattered into the deck and slid through the water, until it stopped mere inches away. ‘Okay, I’ll admit it. This Knuckles is kind-a cool.’ Sonic thought to himself. Though there was no way he would concede that fact out loud.

Not-Knuckles didn’t even register the danger, as he took off running. Hopping over the body of the thing he’d killed. And began navigating the deck of the ship, like he could see in the dark. In the end, all he had to find was a wall. Where he dropped Sonic again, giving the hedgehog only a second to realize that he’d been untied, before something was slapped around his wrist, which beeped, as he found himself magnetized to the metal wall.

“Oh, come on, I can help.” Sonic complained, trying to pull free, but the cuff wasn’t having it.

“No.” Not-Knuckles declared. Before turning back around and shot another thing in the dark, which cried out with more anger than pain, prompting the echidna to adjust his aim ever so slightly and fire again. This time earning himself a thud, as the creature collapsed on the deck. “Captain, we could use a little light down here.” He spoke into his com, giving his fancy railgun thing a rest, as it appeared to reload itself on the electric charges in the air.

As he watched it, Sonic realized something. The thing didn’t even have a trigger. Instead, the echidna’s metal eye reacted a split second before the gun went off. Which explained how he was making such amazing shots, in near pitch darkness.

All of this made it pretty clear to Sonic that there was a Tails in this dimension as well. And he, if Knuckles’ eye was any indication, he on par with his own best friend. Maybe even Nine. Which meant all was not lost. If he could just convince someone to let him talk to the fox.

Of course, before he could even make the attempt, a large shadow flew over his head, heading straight at his friend’s back. “Knucks!” He called out, trying to go to his aid, but was pulled back by the cuff. But the echidna had it covered.

With a simple step to the side, he let the creature fly past. Then, in a single motion, he unraveled his rope, now revealed to be steel cable, and lashed it out like a whip, striking the nightmare from the sky with a crack of thunder and a flash of electricity.

Sonic winced as the violent light sparked and snapped from the darkness. Leaving the thing a smoldering husk on the ground. And he found himself grateful Knuckles hadn’t used that particular setting on him when he’d been captured.

He jumped again, when a loud *pop* sounded overhead, then a bright blue flare erupted in the sky. Setting the storming clouds around them ablaze and allowing Sonic to see the creatures they were fighting. He wished he hadn’t.

There were hundreds of them. Though they took the general shape of animals, that was about the only thing they shared, If he had to guess, they looked something like a sentient, insectoid, virus, with a pension for spikes and the color black, that had taken over the bodies of either bats, birds or flying dinosaurs. They were so warped it was hard to tell which.

The good news though, they hated the new light source. It wasn’t hard to see why either, as they started to smoke, as if they were being burned from the inside out. This left them sitting ducks, allowing Knuckles and Amy to pick them off like flies. But no matter how many they killed; it seemed like seven more would just take their place. And any they didn’t focus on right away, fell out of the sky and started – eating the ship.

Well, Sonic wasn’t sure what they were doing, just that the metal would begin showing signs of a blue, green, and purple corrosion that pulsed with phosphorescent light, after it was touched. But it seemed the sky pirates had this covered, as well. For when the ship was once again struck by lightning, the creatures were electrocuted, until they were burnt to a smoldering crisp.

“Preparing lattice.” The commanding presence of a female voice spoke over a speaker somewhere. Prompting Amy to retreat behind an unseen line. While Knuckles strolled back at a easier pace, recharging his gun again, as if this were a mere walk in the park for him. Only deviating from his task, when one of the creatures flew at him with a hideous screech. But he just raised a fist and allowed it to run directly into him. Not so much as breaking his stride, as the creature crumbled like a sheet of tinfoil going up against a bowling ball.

A second later, he too crossed some invisible line, just as the whole deck of the ship unfolded behind him. Whipping out four long devices, that soon extended three more times. Then fanned out to lay four massive metal nets on either side of the ship.

Within moments, all four were struck by lightning and the power was siphoned off in a beautiful effect that made them look more like wings, as they beat up and down, pulling in even more lightning from every direction. Until an unknown limit was reached, and they raised up to meet each other at the tips, causing a spark and then the world exploded with light.

It only lasted a second, but as Sonic blinked away his temporary blindness. He looked up to find bits of smoldering and blackened pieces of body parts falling all around them, as the entire swarm was culled. Leaving nothing alive to retreat.

“Whoa.” He whispered in awe, as the rain broke through their little pocket of vaporized water and started falling again.

“Report.” The female voice, whom he guessed was the Captain, commanded over the speaker. Prompting Not-Knuckles to walk out over the deck, kicking the remains of nightmare fuel away, as he went.

“No serious damage.” He stated. Though he appeared concerned about a part of the railing wall, where the corrosion seemed to be spreading. “Feel free to Parse, Captain.”

“Parse?” Sonic repeated, looking at Not-Amy for an explanation. But she just lifted her metal arm, allowing the crossbow to fold away and give her better use of her hand. Other than that, she ignored him, instead addressing Knuckles again.

“Admiral, you’re infected.” She pointed out, prompting him to check his right hand, which he had used to bludgeon the creature before. It was now showing signs of that same strange, pulsating corrosion as the ship. But he didn’t look that concerned. As he just flipped his gun back into its holster and tapped a small glowing device strapped around his chest. Something Sonic realized they both had.

A moment later, the echidna winced, as he was shocked with a brutal display of electricity. And, for a moment, Sonic thought they had all gone nuts. But then Knuckles whipped his infected hand through the air, flicking the now dead and burned corrosion away, before going about his business.

Sonic pulled his eyes from this weirdness, when the nets lifted again, fanning overhead like twin pairs of protective angel wings, before releasing the captured electricity directly into the ship’s hull. Causing Sonic to cringe as it came for him as well. However, it didn’t appear to have any effect on anything other than the persistent corruption, which was burned away along with most of the creature remains on the deck. Then, with one last flick of the wings, they folded back into the floor, and everything was normal again.

Well, aside from the fact that they were still sitting in the eye of a giant hurricane.

A few more flares were shot into the sky, as the light from the wings faded. Allowing Amy and Knuckles to walk around the ship, checking for anything of concern.

“All good, Captain.” Knuckles reported, as he returned to where he’d left Sonic. “What should I do with the stowaway?” He waited a moment for the answer to come over his com. Then leaned down to grab Sonic’s free hand.

The hedgehog tried to protest, but the guy’s grip was like a steel vice. And in the end, all it took to end his struggle was another sharp glare from his mechanical eye.

“Wow man, who or what got a good shot on you?” Sonic found himself asking, without checking in with the smart side of his brain. So, he wasn’t all that surprised when he didn’t get an answer. Instead, Knuckles just slapped another magnetic cuff over his other wrist. Then released his trapped hand, allowing the two to magnetize to each other instead. “Oh, come on Dude. There’s no need to be like this. You can trust me.” Not-Knuckles gave him a look, that just said ‘No I can’t.’ Which – okay, that was fair.

With this, the echidna stood up again, attaching something to his belt, as he walked away. And, for a moment, Sonic thought that maybe he’d been given some kind of freedom. But then his cuffs activated, and he was pulled off the floor by his wrists.

“Is this really necessary?” He complained over the storm.

“Yes.” Knuckles stated matter-a-factly, and Sonic glared at his, but he was once again ignored, as the echidna turned back to address Not-Amy. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Don’t insult me.” She countered, raising her metal arm in warning. “Unless you’d like a second fancy hole in the head, to go with the first.” Sonic blinked at that and took a step to the right, so he was standing behind the echidna. ‘Gees, she was a little intense.’

Not-Knuckles only laughed and tilted his hat in a respectful manner. “Apologies, my lady.” He offered, then walked across the deck. Forcing Sonic to follow along, as the key on his belt insisted.

Of course, he did not appreciate the idea of being led around like a dog on a leash. So, the hedgehog zeroed in on the key and smiled. His hands being bound didn’t stop him from going fast. Therefore, it only took a split second for him to reach his goal, and had the key in his hand, just before an electric force blew him back, like he’d been hit with a giant invisible fist.

He whined in pain, as he found himself once again on his back, with everything hurting. Then Not-Knuckles leaned over him, his smile indicating he was more than just a little amused. “Don’t do that.” He warned and Sonic lifted his bound hands to give a thumbs up of agreement.

Expecting to be dragged back to his feet, despite the fact that he was pretty sure his legs had stopped working after that. He was instead shocked, when the echidna gave him a few minutes to recover, before helping him up, in a rare of gentleness.

His brain began to hurt, as he tried to reconcile this action with Knuckles the Echidna, as he received some much-needed walking assistance, until they reached a door, and escaped the downpour of rain at last.

Once inside, Knuckles gave him another couple of minutes to recover, as he removed his hat and squeezed the water from his dreadlocks. Which made Sonic’s rattled brain focus on the strange fact that it hadn’t blown away in the wind.

“So – uh. You got a name?” He asked, as they traversed a barren, metal hall. Lit with a line of soft blue light at the bottom of one wall. “Knucks?” He tried when he didn’t receive an answer, even though he already knew he’d be wrong. But that didn’t stop him from trying. “Gnarly? Dread?” He guessed. That wasn’t unreasonable, they were both pirates, right?

In the end, the hedgehog was just left to pout when he didn’t so much as receive a grunt of response. “Admiral it is, I guess.” He muttered. Only to think about it a bit more. “Hang on. I don’t know all that much about the Navy. But – isn’t an Admiral the same thing as a Captain?” In fact, he was pretty sure that Admiral indicated he commanded more than one ship. Which would give him an even higher rank.

Again, Not-Knuckles didn’t answer and just continued to navigate the corridors, ignoring him all the while. “You don’t talk much, do you?” Sonic went on, walking up a little closer to the guy. Trying to gauge his reaction. “You know, you remind me of a friend of mine.” He continued. “Though he can be a real hot head. I’ll bet you can too.” Despite his better judgement, he reached out to poke the echidna in the shoulder, before zipping away, expecting to be swat at. But – nothing. “Oh, come on, I know it’s in there.”

Instead of an answer, the Admiral just turned a corner, forcing Sonic’s cuffs to follow at a sharp angle. And he had to struggle to readjust himself. As they started up some narrow stairs. “See – told ya.” He quailed, though he wasn’t sure why that made him so happy. “I could always get under Knuckles’ skin. It’s kind of my thing.” He bragged as they took a corner on the staircase, allowing the echidna to look at him, without turning around. Causing Sonic to snap his mouth shut, as the glare he got from that silver eye was just downright scary.

However, yet again, this was the only form of hostility he received. Which was just plan jarring. All the other versions of Knuckles had been easy to rile up and quick to anger. Just like the original. It had been almost comforting in a way. The one constant between the worlds. But this one was almost unnaturally calm and collected. Without it he was just reminded that this was not his world, and this was not his friend.

“I miss Knuckles.” He muttered to himself, then cringed away from the statement. “I can’t believe I just said that.” Distracted by this revelation, he ran straight into the Admiral when he stopped moving. And proceeded to rub his abused nose, before peaking around the roadblock, to find that they had arrived at what could only be the bridge of the ship.

Here he found yet another non-friend, this one a copy of Big, who stood working at a high-tech looking table of maps, compasses, and schematics, his constant companion Froggy, asleep on his head. Both of which were, once again, older. Big was even showing signs of gray hair.

And on other side of the room, stormed the brooding, furious form of yet another version of Rouge. This one much more – mature. Her hair was quite a bit longer too, and she was clad in a stylish pirate-looking getup, with a long frilly coat. However, yet again, there was one thing that made it very clear that she was not Rouge the Bat. Her wings – which had been replaced with a fully mechanical set.

“Damn bugs!” She swore in a tone so full of promised death, he started to feel bad for any nightmare creature that stumbled into her line of sight. “Eat my ship, will you? Next time I’ll blast your brains right out through your –”

“Captain.” Not-Knuckles interrupted, smirking with amusement at her rant. Which earned himself a glare of disapproval. But he was spared the fate of being spontaneously combusted, as her attention soon turned to Sonic. Causing him to stand at attention for – some reason.

“And what are you supposed to be?” She asked like he was a surprise tax audit.

“Uh – a hedgehog.” He answered, trying to offer a smile as well. But she just turned back to Knuckles.

“It speaks?” She noted.

“Almost constantly.” The echidna reported earning a glare from Sonic.

“And how did this stowaway get on my ship?” She raged. Though this time it was directed at Knuckles. Prompting Sonic to become defensive.

“Hey, hold on. It’s not his fault. I just – kind of – landed here. That’s all.” He tried. Though it sounded stupid even to him. And Not-Rouge appeared to agree, as she just glowered at him again. Gees, and he thought Knuckles was scary. This lady had a look that could shave the fur off a cat.

“Aparoid?” She asked, turning back to the Admiral, who just shrugged.

“Not that I can see.”

“What is an Aparoid?” Sonic insisted. Realizing that was the second time he’d been called that. But, as usual, he was ignored, as Rouge just beat her wings in an irritated manner, forcing both Sonic and Knuckles to shift out of the way or be cut in half by the razor-sharp metal.

“Whatever it is, if you’re going to let it on my ship, it’s your responsibility.” She proclaimed, glaring at Knuckles again before storming away to stand next to the wheel.

“Yes Captain.” The Admiral muttered in an irritated tone of voice, lowering the brim of his hat to hide the unhappiness in his expression.

“Hey, I said it wasn’t his fault.” Sonic tried again. Only for the Pirate Queen to turn on him in with some much fury, that he could have sworn he felt his soul leave his body for a moment.

“Knox.” She growled, her voice calm despite the radiating waves of eternal torment she was directing their way. Which did more to silence Sonic then the fact that Knuckles had slapped a mitt over his mouth and held him in a death lock, keeping the hedgehog from speaking again. “I don’t care if you have to throw it overboard. But get this nuisance off my Bridge.” She whispered, causing Sonic to recover from the shock.

Though, despite gripping the echidna’s arm with both hands and fighting to escape, he didn’t even cause a disturbance in his stance, as the Admiral bowed. “Aye Captain.” He agreed. Causing the hedgehog to make some uncouth and unmanly noises, as he was hauled from the room without another word. But he could do nothing to escape the promise of certain death that was now coming for him.

…

Please share some reviews and comments, I’d love to hear what people think of my work.

[imtrashraccoon]

Whew! I didn't think I'd get this one done today! I have been busy the past couple days but had managed to get a few chapters written back in December. Hopefully, I can get a few more written so I'm not as late again.

TW: Death and descriptions of death.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Dust - Missed

Word Count: 1,931

At least it wasn't raining as hard as it had been during the day. The constant pitter patter of raindrops was also a rather soothing background noise. Unfortunately, you had been trudging through puddles all night and now you were really regretting not bringing a pair of boots.

Most soldiers wore sabatons or some form of sturdy footwear, but unless the terrain or weather conditions were really bad, you preferred to go without. Your paw pads were tough and much quieter than a pair of clunky boots could ever be. You felt more maneuverable, like you could more easily grip the ground when running, and you also preferred the overall freedom. Going barefoot meant you felt like you could let loose no matter where you were.

Although, there were downsides to not wearing boots. There was no relief from extreme heat or cold and you were more prone to injuries from stepping on something sharp. Right now, your fur was soaked through to at least halfway up your calves and every step made a soft squishing sound that made you cringe.

You were trying to stick to the overhangs again, but it wasn't easy to do so while avoiding being seen. Despite the weather, there seemed to be the same amount of guards patrolling the streets as last night. Your armour was damp, but not completely soaked through just yet. You would survive at least.

Your ears perked up at the sound of slow footsteps. Who could be out on a night like this? Slowly, you crept out of the alley, keeping behind cover so as to not be spotted. Your eyes strained to make out anything in the inky darkness. What you would give to see in the dark like your partner could. Maybe you should ask Donovan if he could make you some Night Eye potions?

Thankfully, the streets weren't completely devoid of light as some lamplight would occasionally leak out from the interior of the buildings and the patrols always carried either a torch or a lantern, so it was relatively easy to know when they were passing by. While not on every street, there were also lanterns hung up on posts at major intersections.

Whoever was out tonight certainly wasn't a guard as their footsteps sounded softer and they had no light, save for a small lantern. Even though they had the hood closed, the dim light it emitted was just bright enough to make them stand out from the black. They wore a dark cloak that obscured their body so that you couldn't tell if they were human or monster. What drew your attention was the large eye painted over the chest and shoulders of the garment.

You waited until they passed by your hiding place before creeping out after them. You had to make sure to keep a safe distance away to remain undetected, but the figure seemed to be in no hurry and you were easily able to keep track of them.

You followed the cloaked figure through the streets for a little while. Thankfully, your keen hearing and smell prevented you from losing track of them for longer than a few seconds at a time. You weren't more talented than most dog monsters, but you liked to think that your heightened senses were a valuable addition to the team. Of the four, Maul was the only one who could even hold a candle to your abilities and, while he was impressive, he was no bloodhound.

You were starting to wonder if you had been right about there being occult activity in the city. Why else would there be a person in creepy robes roaming through the streets? It couldn't be just a cultural thing. If it came down to it, you were pretty sure you could handle a couple of cultists, although it was a different story if they happened to be mages. Maybe if you could get the drop on them, you would have a fighting chance, but if they spotted you first, you knew you couldn't match their magic output.

Suddenly, a purple bone bullet whizzed past the cloaked figure, embedding itself in the cobblestone. The figure turned to flee but before they could do so, a shadowy figure materialized next to them brandishing a shortsword.

It took you a moment to realize Reven had been tracking your quarry as well, but when you did, you felt a wave of anger well up in your chest. This was supposed to be a clean infiltration mission. No killing random citizens, since it would draw unwanted attention from the authorities. So why had Reven, who was normally the more level-headed one, mess it all up?

The cloaked figure managed to dodge what your partner had likely intended to be a finishing blow. The moment they raised their hands, possibly to cast a spell, you sprang into action. You leaped over a crate, clearing the distance in a second, and simultaneously casting one of the few spells you knew.

A spectral chain took shape in your paws, lengthening and forming two weights at the end, taking on the familiar shape of your preferred weapon: a meteor hammer. Swinging one end around, you brought the weight down on the figure's head, dropping them to the ground in an instant.

You paused for a moment in case they might try to get up, but the figure remained prone. They didn't immediately turn to dust, so you knew they either weren't dead or weren't a monster. You were admittedly a little disappointed that you didn't receive any exp, but you didn't have time to check.

The moment you looked up, Reven raised his blade and let out a growl of frustration. You responded by mirroring his aggressive stance, although you didn't start swinging your weapon right away, instead intending to defend yourself if he followed through.

"What's gotten into you?!" you snarled, baring your teeth at him.

"you stole my kill..." he muttered. His mismatched eyelights were practically blazing with fury and you noted that his hands were shaking, but you weren't sure if he was just that angry or if it was something else.

"Stand down, they're still alive." You tightened your grip on the spectral chain and took a step forward. "I only knocked them out, okay?"

He stared at you for a moment longer before slowly sheathing his shortsword. He still looked angry, but at least he had enough sense not to try killing you as well.

You responded by dispelling your meteor hammer, although you still kept a close eye on him. Reven may have changed his mind, but you knew from past experience that he could snap at any moment and could also easily overpower you. The last time you had fought had been the day you joined the Dark Fortress and found your soulmate. If you hadn't been fighting alongside Sir Draco, you wouldn't have survived for more than a minute against him.

When Reven broke eye contact, you took a moment to assess the situation. You were both standing over a body in the middle of the street and a guard could come by at any moment, if you hadn't already been spotted that is.

You bent down, hooking your paws through the cloaked figures armpits and started to drag them into a nearby alley. "Come on, help me get them out of sight," you called out to your comrade in a loud whisper.

Your request seemed to light a fire under the spellsword and he quickly grabbed ahold of the figure's ankles. Together, you half dragged, half carried them into the alley and behind some debris. Once done, you turned to your comrade and crossed your arms.

"You rarely miss strikes. Are you doing alright?"

Reven leaned against the brick wall and let out a shaky sigh. "no..." he hissed through clenched teeth. "i'm desperate... just need some exp..."

Your eyes widened as you moved to stand in front of him. Not only were his hands shaking, but his whole body was trembling and you noticed he was sweating as well. Without really thinking, you pressed a paw to his skull, immediately registering that he was burning up, before he jerked away and gave you a sour look.

"Ah, sorry, I should've asked first." You gave him an apologetic look but he didn't respond. "You've got it really bad... How long has it been?"

"...too long." He pulled his hood further over his skull as if he was trying to hide his face from you. "i... i acted without thinking..." he muttered, running his gauntlets down his face.

You opened your mouth to respond when a shuffling noise drew your attention back to the cloaked figure. Realizing they were awake, you began to move, only to freeze in place when they let out a scream for help. Before you could even begin to silence them, a purple bone suddenly pierced through the figure's chest.

The figure let out a strangled cry mixed with a sickening gurgle before collapsing against the cobblestones. Their muscles twitched once and then that was it. A dark puddle began to slowly seep out from their body and your nose twitched with the metallic scent of blood.

"Reven..." you started to whisper, turning to your partner with a look of horror.

He met your gaze with a blank stare and neither of you said anything for a moment. "they were going to give us away," he finally said.

Before you could respond, your ears picked up the sound of multiple hurried footsteps and you turned sharply towards the street, only to see the glow of at least two torches. Reven grabbed your arm, nearly dragging you deeper into the alley until your brain caught up a moment later.

"Stop!" one of the guards shouted, but it only served to spur you on.

That is, until you came to a screeching halt at the end of the alley. Your escape was blocked by a brick wall with nowhere to go. There was nowhere to hide either and a quick glance around proved that there were no windows or ledges within reach.

"the wall..." Reven hissed. "we'll have to climb over, c'mon!"

He moved next to the wall and folded his hands together, creating a foothold so he could boost you up. You didn't hesitate for a moment. With a bit of a running start and help from your partner, you sprang up and got a good grip on the top of the wall. Thankfully, you managed to haul yourself up and get a solid perch.

You turned around, spotting the guards rapidly closing in and reached down to Reven. "Come on!" you called out.

He jumped up, grabbing your hand in an effort to haul himself up as well. You strained to keep yourself from losing your balance while also supporting his weight.

You didn't know if you lost your grip or if Reven did, but he suddenly slipped and fell. The momentary delay was all it took for the two guards to catch up and corner your comrade against the wall.

"run!" he shouted. You hesitated for a moment before he looked up, making direct eye contact with you. "forget about me and save yourself!"

"No soldier gets left behind!"

As the guards overpowered your comrade, the words of your former mentor echoed through your mind. Still, you forced yourself to move, leaping to the ground on the other side of the wall and running off into the night with your tail between your legs.