#gage bullet head

[icarus-star]

seriously why don't we talk about gage more :( he's such a sad boy, i'd expect u all to lov him!!!

[miniisunshine]

🖤𝕽𝖔𝖗𝖞'𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝕾𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘❤️

I've decided to combine both of my hyperfixations together! I loved doing this and i thought about doing 5sos or Avenged Sevenfold next, what do you think?

[angelsnkisses]

they cropped me out but im in every single one of these pictures

[zxuiitz]

What should I draw??? (Any role of Rory suits me) I want to draw so much but I have no idea 😞😞😞 PLEASE

[blueberrypancakesworld]

~Rory Culkin's Character - Masterlist~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scream 4-Charlie Walker

°Forced move -> fem reader, dark themes, obsession, kissing, making out, yandere behaviour

°Perv!Charlie Walker headcanon->fem reader, perverted behavior, yandere, obsession, clueless reader

°Perv!Charlie Walker headcanon 2->fem reader, obsession, touching without consent, drugging, kidnapping

°Perv!Charlie Walker headcanon 3->fem reader, somnophilia, masturabtion, obsession

°Perv!Charlie Walker headcanon4->fem reader, angst, hurt/comfort, knife play, touching without consent, obsession

°7-Minutes in Heaven with Charlie Walker->fem reader, fluff, kissing, friends to lovers, making out

°Tear you apart->gn reader, murder, blood, obsession, mutual love, kissing, angst

°Heady biscuits->fem reader, weed, fluff, comfort, implied smut

°Charlie Walker in a relationship->fem reader, sfw/nsfw

°Unspoken words->fem reader, angst, emotional, hurt/comfort, kiss, blood, wounds

°NSFW Alphabet-Charlie Walker

°Fluff Alphabet-Charlie Walker

°In Love with you->fem reader, smut, sub Charlie

°Charlie Walker - Sinner in the store->fem reader, heavy smutish, kissing, handjob

°Charlie Walker - Something new to wear->fem reader, fluff

°The nurse and the nerd->fem reader, smut (handjob), some fluff

I'm gonna miss this place->fem reader, fluff, comfort, kiss

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lords of Chaos 2018-Euronymous

°Flower in hell->fem reader, fluff, tiny hurt, comfort, no use of Y/n

°Music, beer and touch->fem reader, fluff, kissing, making out

°NSFW Alphabet-Euronymous

°Princess and the Vampire->fem reader, big fluff

°Fluff Alphabet - Euronymous

°All the best in pink (sequel to Princess and the Vanpire)->fem reader, fluff

°Eyes on you in the short skirt->fem reader, tiny fluff, making out, kissing

°Guitar and bands->fem reader, fluff

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Under The Banner of Heaven-Samuel Lafferty

°His will->fem reader, fluff, smutish, making out

°His doings->fem reader, smut, fluff

°Strawberry field->fem reader, fluff

°Baking without god->male reader, fluff, cuddling

°I'm your god->fem reader, hurt, smut, non-con, religion, abuse

°Broken will->fem reader, hurt, emotional, smut

°It was his will->fem reader, smutish, religion abuse

°Rough Samuel Lafferty->afab, smut, kinda public

°Hidden relationship->smut

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Black mirror - Kappa

°My flower->fem reader, flirting, fluff, kiss

°My natural drug (Sequel to My flower)->fem reader, smut, fluff, shibari

°My Goddess->fem reader, smut, sub!Kappa/dom!femreader, bondage, humiliation, mommy kink, handcuffs, sm

°Brighten up the flowers->prequel to My Goddess (but can be read as a stand alone), sub!Kappa/dom!femreader, smut, chocking, mommy kink

°Wake Up-> fem reader (afab), smut, somnophilia, kissing, knife play, blood kink, druged sex, dark theme

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bullet Head - Gage

°My broken Angel - fem!reader, smutish, kissing, blood, hurt/comfort, emotional, use of drugs (heroin)

°From now on you are mine - Part.1

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Swarm - Marcus

°Pervert Marcus

°Stalker Marcus

°Valentine's Day with Marcus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I received another absolutely delicious Clay Roach request and I'm thinking about getting a little crossover situation going. Have y'all seen Bullethead? If not, and you like dogs don't do that to yourself, really.

Anyhow, I watched that movie once bcs I'm collecting Rory characters like Infinity Stones, and Gage is just baby-Clay to me if that makes any sense. So, don't be confused when you see an image of Gage and not immediately Clay as my thumbnail or something like that, okay? 🫶🏻

Love you all tremendous amounts and I'll be back with a fresh fic next week! Have a great weekend 🖤

[bbugsy]

anyone in this thread sell blow ?

[misstrashchan]

So... Please tell me I'm not the only who has Thoughts. About Hayward's plan to recruit Shrue and specifically Carpenter's involvement in it because. Adjudicator Shrue has been working to legalise the Trawler-Man's people and was working with Mason and the current Katabasions. Before that they were trying to eradicate them, being the one to hire and send out Mercer and Gage with their own platoon of soldiers.

Which brings us to Faulkner and his murder of Mason and Thurrocks, his opposition to the Katabasions plans to legalise them and let the Withermark and their people be used as a weapon of war, and the story he spins pinning the murders on Carpenter, painting her as a traitor who was working with the legal authorities (aka Shrue) and undermining them:

FAULKNER:

I could never have imagined that the Legislatures could have won her over to their cause.

It was Sister Carpenter who alerted the government’s forces to the location of the Paraclete’s Gulch. 

(With a weary finality)

But they had, and of course her return was no coincidence at all.

It was Sister Carpenter who attempted to undermine our defences from within.

And after their attack failed, thanks to the combined strength of our disciples…it was Sister Carpenter who waited for a moment when the entire Gulch was gathered below in joyful celebration, and she assassinated Katabasian Mason and poor Sister Thurrocks.

(3x01 Something Dreadful Shall Arise)

And we know how strongly Carpenter feels about the idea that she would ever work with the government legislatures against the people who were once her family, how angry she is that Faulkner has written a story that has made that lie true:

CARPENTER:

You think I’d ever make peace with the people who did it? You think I’d work with them against my own family? 

Against my brother, my parents, my grandmother?

You think I wouldn’t have put a bullet in my own skull already if I had that weight pulling me down?

And I think it's important to point out that Carpenter has no idea why Faulkner killed Mason and Thurrocks. She doesn't know anything about Mason and the other Katabasisons plans to legalise their god by proving themselves useful as a tool in the war. But we do know that in the past, when the idea of legalising the Trawler-Man was brought up before in S1 by Paige as a more peaceful way forward, she loathed the idea as much as Faulkner:

PAIGE:

But this is what's absurd, isn't it? We're talking about ancient history. Laws from 50 years back, long dead legislatures.

They're accepting new faiths back into the canon all the time now. You just need to get your god's name on a petition and-

CARPENTER:

Listen to her, Faulkner. "Our god's name, on a petition". Well. Why shouldn't we be reasonable about all this? Now that the Peninsula is ready to hear our case?

Why shouldn't we go through the proper channels? Why shouldn't they be allowed to get away with it?

FAULKNER:

Carpenter, let's keep this quiet...

CARPENTER:

My parents were dragged in shackles to the Saints hydroelectric dam, a year after I was born. They were dragged there, they were sentenced, and they were tossed off the side into the churning waters.

And the last words that they ever heard were that they were to be devoured by something that they did not understand. Because the dam was new, and on unconsecrated, and because a god must feed, and because these false faith renegades from deep in the fens made for the easiest sacrifices.

I will not hear that the world is a better place than it was because there is process. I won't and I can't.

(1x12 And To Fight Is Just to Choke)

And now Carpenter is with Hayward, and are headed towards Adjudicator Shrue to try and work with them so they can help the Woundtree seem more sympathetic and have someone who can better tell their story, as it were.

Carpenter is still being hunted by Faulkner's schism, only being given a break by being in a no man's land, only now she won't be, as she's heading into Glottage.

CARPENTER:

(Staring out of the window)

If we stayed on this road heading south, we’d make it down to Marcel’s Crossing by nightfall.

Another day’s driving, and we’d be at the Paraclete’s Gulch.

(3x06 The Wise Man Knows the Taste of Rot)

So the next time Faulkner hears about Carpenter, it's going to be about how gosh, you were right all along Katabasion Faulkner, that devious Carpenter is working with the same government official who tried to eradicate us and who is now trying to legalize us to use as a tool in their war! (that's not even mentioning she'll be seen with Hayward as well, who as far as Faulkner is aware is the cop who was hunting them down back in S1) And Faulkner is just gonna be like

Wondering if he told his lie about Carpenter working with the legal authorities undermine the Parish of Tide and Flesh so convicingly that he made it into the truth and what's that? IT'S THE FOILING TO VAL AND THE LAST WORD WITH A STEEL CHAIR READY TO BEAT ME SENSELESS-

[virginsexgod69]

5| Rebuilding

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary You and Daryl get started on removing the tree that fell through the window, but your mind wanders elsewhere.

cw descriptions of killing walkers, sexy thoughts, female masturbation

note heehee things are spicing up a bit

1.6k words

Series Masterlist

“Daryl, you don’t have to stay jus’ for me. I’ll be fine on my own like I was before.” You really did want him to stay, but you knew he had people to look for. You’d hate to be the reason he never finds them again, so you convinced yourself that you were ready to let him go. 

“You want help fixing’ yer cabin?” He asked. You looked at him, confused. Normally, you’d just call a window repairman to come fix it, but nothing was normal about the times you were living in. You didn’t think it was salvageable, and even if it was, you didn’t have the first clue on how to fix it. 

“Uh- I..yes?” 

“Then I’ma stay an’ help you.” His tone had a sense of finality to it, closing any doors to an argument, so you kept your mouth shut and nodded your head in agreement. You wanted to let him know that he didn’t owe you anything and that was free to go, but then again, it’d be idiotic to turn down such an offer. 

You and Daryl stood at the side of your cabin where the tree fell, watching as the undead mindlessly stumbled around in that area, some even tripping over the fallen tree. He nodded his head in their direction as if to say it was time to kill them, so you nodded your head in agreement. Hearing crack after crack of their skulls shattering beneath your sledgehammer was gratifying. You weren’t even phased by the blood that splattered on you. It was almost therapeutic, the way you channeled all your anger into each swing of the tool. The anger from your husband leaving you alone with a child and a baby during a fucking apocalypse so he could live out his fantasies with your best friend. The anger from a tree crashing into your house, destroying some of the little memories you had left of your babies. The feeling of Daryl’s warm hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your rage filled haze. You looked around to see all of the bodies dead on the ground. Your eyes focused in on the sight in front of you, the corpse before you’s head was obliterated into an unrecognizable pulp. Pieces of bloody brain fragments decorated the lush, green grass and partially your clothing, too. You glanced away from it and looked into Daryl’s concerned baby blues instead. 

“I’m great!” you promised, stepping away from him and the carcass at your feet. You really were feeling a lot better. Maybe it was because you were finally out in the sunshine after days of stormy weather or because Daryl stayed to help you, or because killing all those undead helped you release a lot of steam. 

“How should we get started!?” You asked with cheerily with a wide smile splitting your face in half. You were sure you looked something out of a horror movie, covered in blood and brains, smiling almost psychotically. Slightly perturbed, Daryl glanced away before looking back at you. 

“Got any axes or anythin’? We gotta get this tree outta here,” he explained. 

 You left and came back with two axes after searching your house for a moment or two. The tingle you felt in your spine from brushing fingers with Daryl as you handed him an axe lifted your spirits even more. You followed his lead as he hacked at pieces of the tree. Piece by piece, there was less and less tree protruding through the window. 

 The hot, Georgia sun beaming on your skin was increasingly uncomfortable. You were sweating bullets and desperately needed a break, but as long as Daryl was working you would, too. You glanced over at Daryl to gage how he was doing only to have your breath taken from you. The sunlight glistened off his tanned, sweaty arms, only accentuating the way his muscular biceps flexed with every swing of the axe. His chocolate brown hair dripped with sweat, making him look downright delicious. You needed to focus on the task at hand! You ripped your eyes away from him and got back to chopping wood, this time, more ferociously as you tried to force those thoughts of Daryl out of your head. He must’ve gotten to a particularly difficult piece, because you heard him grunt each time he forced the axe out from being lodged into the wood. The sound made your mind wonder, imagining if those were the noises he made in bed. The pulsating throb you felt in your core forced you to drop the axe and step away. 

“I’ma get us some waters,” you rushed out before hurrying off into the cabin. You gulped down your bottle of water as if it would cleanse your mind of those previous thoughts. Seeing Daryl like that made you realize it had been a small eternity since you’ve had sex, even before the world turned upside down. It felt weird to have this side of you awakened again, but a good weird. But nothing good lasts, especially not these days, so you buried those thoughts and desires deep down within. You polished off the water and grabbed a bottle for Daryl before heading back out. 

  When you came back outside, Daryl was tossing the some of the last parts of the tree out of your window. He wiped the sweat from his forehead before gratefully accepting the water from you. He uncapped the plastic bottle before bringing it to his lips and chugging it. You watched as streams of water escaped the corners of his mouth and leaked down his chin and dripped onto his chest, sliding down until it met the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. The thoughts came flooding back tenfold and you and to had turn away. 

"Sun's settin'. We can finish tomorrow," he said as he stretched his sore arms. 

"I thought we did finish?" you questioned. Your whole body was a sore, sweaty, bloody mess. The thought of more work made your back hurt. You stretched your sore limbs as you stared at the orangey sky, enjoying the cool evening breeze against your damp skin. 

"Gotta board it up, unless you want walkers gettin' in," he said as if it were obvious, which it kind of was, but your brain was tired. 

"You call them things walkers?" you asked, laughter hidden in your voice. 

"Yeah? Wha's wrong with tha?" he asked suspiciously. 

"Nothin', but I mean they do a whole hell of a lot more than walk..." 

"Well wha' do you call 'em, then?" 

You shrugged your shoulders. "Never thought to name 'em, just call them 'the undead'." You glanced back up at the sky, admiring the beauty that had been hidden behind thick storm clouds for the past week. You glanced over at Daryl and saw him quickly turn away from you and look at the sunset too. 

"I'm gonna go in and take a shower. You're free to use it when I'm done, if you'd like." And with that, you were off to the cabin. 

Once you locked the bathroom door behind you, you quickly shed off your disgusting, bloody, sweaty clothes and hopped in the shower, turning on the cold water. Without electricity, cold water was the only option, but you were grateful to have running water at all. You stared at the floor, watching as the dried blood was rinsed off your body, staining the water pink until it finally faded to clear again. The thoughts of Daryl from earlier resurfaced, making you want to bang your head against the wall. You felt guilty for thinking of him in such a way. Here he was, a guest in your home who was kind enough to stick around to help fix the damage to your cabin. And here you were, thirsting over him like a cat in heat. You splashed the cold water over your face, but it did nothing to cool your thoughts. You were sure you were only feeling like this because it had been almost two years since you've gotten any. Maybe, you thought, if you just touched yourself the thoughts would calm down. 

 Your hand slipped down between your thighs and you slid a finger between your folds, feeling how wet you were. You were almost embarrassed at how soaked you were, but there was no going back now. Your fingers began rubbing slow circles on your neglected clit. Pleasure shot throughout your body, urging you to keep going. You increased your pace, simultaneously increasing your pleasure as you continued those circular motions. You bit back a moan at the same time you swallowed your guilt. The coil in your tummy was building up, waiting to explode. Images of Daryl painted your eyelids causing your cunt to clench over nothing. You slipped a finger into your slick hole, wishing it was Daryl's instead. You slipped another one in once the sting from the first subsided, but it still didn't feel like enough. You grew frustrated at how your own fingers couldn't quite reach that spot, so instead you focused on your clit, applying more pressure and chasing that orgasm that was so close to coming. You thought of the way Daryl's tanned arms flexed as he was chopping the wood earlier and that coil burst, making you see stars as you came. But once you came down from that high and realized what you just did, shame washed over you like a bucket of ice water, colder than the shower's spray that was currently splashing you.

Next Chapter►

sorry, it took me a minute to finish this, but i did it, yaaay! Thank you for reading =]

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[slocumjoe]

Can you do a companions react to a sole with poor fine motor skills that is really skilled in battle but can't do stuff like open can tabs or walk in a straight line or has trouble lile tying their shoes?

- Leaf anon 🌱

Cait; Wouldn't think much of it. She was an addict, she's known lots of other addicts, she's known raiders. People who's heads get messed with, either with substance or by getting hit too much. Fighting and shit like grabbing a door handle are different. Her worry is that they'd need their motor skills in a fight, or in a retreat...Cait would gripe about helping them with anything if they ask, but she can respect someone who's useful when it matters.

Codsworth; Would offer a hand whenever they looked like they needed it, but otherwise wouldn't comment or acknowledge it. It would feel very improper. They've got things handled most of the time, and if they aren't in pain, he doesn't need to worry. Would consult wasteland doctors if he felt they were legit, get their opinion, but Codsworth isn't the type to micromanage.

Curie; Worried mama hen. Curie would hover and possibly overstep. She means well, but if you don't want help with something, and don't need it, someone insisting they help is very 🙃🙃🙃. This is the first time I've used emojis in a react, only because I cannot describe the emotion those ones convey. Anyway. Curie would look into motor skills disabilities/in general in hopes of finding a way to remedy their struggles, make things easier. Some people might appreciate it, others would feel really patronized.

Danse; Would send them to Cade every time they returned to the Prydwen, just to check up on things. Obviously can't so that post BB. Danse has probably seen this before as well, but since he'd be traveling with them, he'd see it more and in different ways. Small corridor and they can't walk straight? His power armor is huge and lacks agility. They're bumping into each other. This would be an exercise in spacial awareness for him.

Deacon; one of the more worried ones. They're both spies. They need to be sneaking. You need to be able to move straight, pick locks, quickly type on keyboards. He's pleasantly surprised to see that Sole is still good at what they do, but there's always a little part of him waiting for that Chekov's Gun to go off. Also tends to hover around them, especially in hostile areas.

Gage; Don't let anyone know they have this issue and Gage is fine. Raiders will sniff that kind of thing out and get dollar signs for eyes. Walk straight the best you can, or play it off as a personality eccentricity. Don't say shit, don't go for soda in public. Very confused how they beat the Gaunlet. Very confused how they have such a high kill count. Will only help them out if its time-sensitive.

Hancock; Takes him...so long to notice. Not because he's high, he just fully doesn't realize it. He spends time around alcoholics and chemheads. Like Cait, that's just...normal for him? Hancock will offer help with some things, and still not notice what kind of help he's actually providing. He'll realize out of the blue one day and barge into the room asking if they have problems, just to make sure he's right.

MacCready; As long as he's the sniper, there's no reason to worry. If they start eyeing scopes to add to their guns, he might sweat a little. If they're a pickpocket type, he's just sweating. Pickpocket, sweating bullets. This would turn MacCready off crime, watching them try to sneak whatever from someone's pocket, when just three minutes ago, they had to bite their bag's zipper. Leave the precision stuff to him. Please. Please for the love of god.

Nick; Look at either of his hands. He probably doesn't have such great motor skills there, either, purely because he's just so old and banged up. This is a major source of bonding. Nick is the least likely to have any worry or concern for them; he gets around fine, so can they.

Preston; Second longest to notice. Faster than Hancock, but it still long enough for him to wonder if they were always like that, or if they're injured in some way. His concern comes before combat—they fight just fine, its the getting ready. Flicking their safety off, getting the gun out, reloading. Preston tends to go in front, so they have some time to prepare before they get into the action.

Piper; Like Preston, worries about transitional periods. Downtime, they're fine, firefight, they're fine. But those little moments in between, oooh, does Piper worry. Piper will keep count of how many bullets they use and let them know to reload, switch to something else, etc. Basically tracks all the info around, gets it to them so they have a few extra seconds to think and fiddle with whatever they have to.

X6-88; They are forbidden from heights. They are to remain at least ten feet away from more than a three-foot drop. Area too small? Understood, we're not going there, we're leaving. No, I don't care who asked for what. X6-88 hates heights as is. Someone pirouetteing their way off an edge is not happening. He truly does not care about anything else. Can't open things? Whatever. Bad with precision? Whatever. You can't walk straight, you are not going near ladders, bridges, scaffolding, cliffs, maybe even stairs if he thinks they're too tall.

[icarus-star]

need this gang bang

[angelsnkisses]

gage was such a sad character.

like his story about the dog wrecked me, and then the scene after that? bro :(.

[zxuiitz]

I have a headache from drawing on my tablet, I feel like there is a fire in my brain... I'm gonna rip my clothes off but not in a good way

But I have to feed Rory's fans with my drawings (I say that as if I've been posting for months when not at all)

[blueberrypancakesworld]

My broken Angel - Gage x fem!reader

warning : drug use, use of mommy/ma'm, emotional, angst, hurt/comfort, smutish, blood, emotional breakdown, no use of Y/n, afab reader

Summary : A call that had saved him and his colleague Gage was free. But free from the old building did not mean free from the addiction and the day. He needed someone, he needed his girlfriend to take care of him and relieve him of any pain.

Info : It's been far to long since I have wrote something for Rory's characters and today say hello to Gage from Bullet Head a newcomer in my masterlist but my sweet angel. No seriously he is so inspirational just by looking at him OMG. So anyways have fun reading and I hope you Rory lovers have found your way back here ;)

Ps : I tried to look the movie online obviously not illegal but somehow my internet was like ,,No-No-No we don't do that here". So I only had a scene pack on youtube, edits and trailer of the movie to get his charcter/personality. I hope despite it I wrote him good.

masterlist

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Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. A break-in, it was just a damn break-in, a robbery and not something that should scale. At least that's what the three of them thought, it was supposed to be simple and not the possible end of their careers.

But in the end it was a nightmare the dog was not the man's friend the dog who tried to kill them the police and the men from the illegal dog fight they all tried to get them. If a call hadn't gone through, if one more thing hadn't happened.

If Gage hadn't been successful in calling his girlfriend, they would never have gotten out of here. She could tell by the trembling of his voice that he was stammering slightly and was nervous that something was wrong.

,,Just wait as best you can, I'll be right there," she had exclaimed into the cell phone for fear he wouldn't hear before she had rushed into the car to drive to the place. Her fear grew by the minute.

She didn't approve of his robbery, didn't approve of his secret, didn't approve of what he was doing. And yet her own job was not enough with his to pay any bills.

It was necessary, and although he was so fragile when you broke him, he sacrificed himself for her. ,,I'll-I'll take any job for you," he had once said as he gently pulled her into his arms.

His blue eyes showed truth and yet she saw the fear that he knew was dangerous. Saw that he was full of fear of the world, he would stay with her and would prefer to stay in her arms.

Ever since they had met, she had given him a bowl of soup at the food bank, something like dependency had developed between them. She was his anchor, his everything. And he would do anything for her so as not to lose her, but he would do just as much for his addiction.

She had seen it at first, the twitching, the nervousness, his diminished eye contact. But the worst was when she found him in her bathroom with the needle next to him, the oozing blood flowing from his arm and the tear-stained look on his face.

She didn't feel disgust or revulsion, she felt devotion. She called him angel from then on. Since then he was the image of a broken angel. The black hair, the bright blue eyes, the self-harm in the form of addiction.

He was so fragile that she believed that if she left him he would kill himself, that he saw no point in giving up, that he was so scarred by life. And yet she let him do his business, relying on his colleagues to make sure everything went well. Until now.

Now she raced through the streets in her car towards the building, knowing that all she had to do was open the door and get out, but she didn't know what she would find. 

Please just be complete,she pleaded inwardly, thinking back to that evening. As she slowly knelt down to him, she picked up the needle and looked at it.

Saw the drop of the drug, saw how the heroin had to go through his body. ,,I'm...so-sorry," she had heard him murmur as he opened his eyes, saw him looking at her and felt her heart beat faster.

She knew it was wrong that she wasn't disgusted and angry. But she wasn't angry like she should be, her anger came from the worry that he would die one day.

But before she let this coldness of punishment out on him or even let it get to him, she felt his cold, slightly trembling hand on hers. How he tried powerlessly to move up slightly to get closer to her. ,,You're just so... helpless," she replied, making it sound like a statement she was right to make.

He didn't speak back, just nodded silently and cuddled her almost pleadingly in her arms. He knew that she would always take him in and catch him. That she wouldn't leave him, wouldn't hit him, wouldn't be brutal like his father.

She was almost like a mother and was only too willing to blur this reality. ,,My helpless Gage, you'll never do it for me again, will you?" she asked, putting her arms around him. She could feel him looking at her, taking his head off her shoulder and moving closer to her.

He wanted to kiss her but she used her hand to gently grip his jaw. ,,I promise, I'm sorry...Mommy," he said, tears gathering in his blue eyes before she released him and he gave her a sloppy kiss before he fell limply back into her arms.

And all this while the little trickle of blood ran from his arm. The first time he had called her that she had accepted that he needed it.

She would not let him fall apart in this world. That was the first time she had ever seen him so ready. And now? ,,How do I find you now?" she asked into the car when she finally arrived at the building.

Getting out of the car and trying to find an entrance, the situation soon revealed itself, a dead getaway driver, Gage's colleagues suspiciously quiet, the sound of a dog barking what almost seemed like a farewell and then she saw him. ,,Gage! You're alive!" she shouted when she saw the black-haired man who seemed to be hiding behind the two older men.

,,Hello dear," he mumbled and lowered his gaze, not wanting her to see him like this, but the blood that had flowed from his nose was already dripping and he couldn't get rid of it without water. Besides, the pain and the smell of metal distracted him from the addiction that was raging inside him.

,,Your nose is bleeding," she realized with fear and carefully grasped his face, looking left and right to see if he still had anything. Every further bruise and every scratch and scrape made her heart ache even more.

,,It's...nothing," he said, mumbling, knowing that the other two wanted to go home, away from this place, that his friend was the thing that separated them from freedom. He gently took her hand, it was cold, and she saw his smile, saw through it, knew he was suffering.

The sigh that left her lips made him slightly sincere. Wordlessly, she squeezed his hand and gave him a look that could best be interpreted as one of concern before she opened the car and they all got in.

The engine started and they drove away from this terrible place. It was quiet between the four of them, no one said anything, no one dared or wanted to.

They had all experienced too much to want to dwell on it. She saw in the rear-view mirror that the two older ones were looking out of the window, their thoughts still completely elsewhere.

If he had died, I would have blamed you, she thought, her hands tightening around the leather of the steering wheel. His colleagues were the reason why he was now almost slumped over in the passenger seat.

His hands folded on his lap, she saw him trying to rub off the excess skin on the sides. The blood was still on him and he just looked completely wiped out. ,,It's going to be okay," she said softly and put her hand on his thigh for a moment. She felt him flinch and his gaze went to her.

The broken angel. She saw again the angel she loved and cared for. ,,It will be," he replied almost appathetically and squeezed her hand lightly, a touch that could almost have been an illusion. But she had felt it, she was there. He was with her again.

The car journey, which dragged on for a few minutes, only ended when the two of them were no longer in the car. The colleagues had been gone for a long time and they had closed the front door of the apartment behind them.

When she heard his almost vulnerable sounds as they walked up the stairs to the apartment. She saw him getting more and more lost and as the front door closed, tears flowed down his cheeks. ,,Gage...it's okay, I'm here...it's over," she said instantly and put the front door key aside, taking him by the hand, hearing him try to say something but it came out slurred under his crying.

She pulled him behind her on the way to the bathroom, the white streams in contrast to his blood and the blue of his eyes standing out against the dark charcoal black hair.

,,Don't...don't go," he said clearly, holding her firmly by the wrist as she sat him on the edge of the bath. He seemed completely out of it, distraught, traumatized, and partly because of the drugs, at least that much she guessed.

Leaning down to him, she gently stroked his dark hair and heard his suppressed whimper as his blue eyes turned to her. ,,I'm not going Mommy is just getting a towel okay?" she asked knowing it wasn't really a question. Gage knew inside himself that she was the one in control.

But he should still give his understanding to his inner self. Because a dangerous angel on earth could break at any time. Her gaze met his and her eyes detached themselves from the blood.

Showing him that she wasn't lying, she felt his grip tighten for a moment, he didn't want to be without her. Before he nodded slightly and gave a soft, ,,Okay ma'm" before letting go of her, his hand landed powerlessly on his leg and he remained sitting on the edge of the tub.

She calmly moved away from him, knowing that nothing would happen, and walked with unerring steps into the kitchen to fetch a towel and return as promised.

Saw how he exhaled shakily with relief when he saw her again, that she hadn't left him, that he wasn't just imagining her through the heroin. ,,Don't be alarmed, I'll wipe the blood off. Everything will be all right again in a minute," she said gently and gave him a small, warm smile.

She knew that he needed her, that she was everything to him, that her angel was everything to her. She took the cloth and held it under lukewarm water before she carefully began to dab away the blood and then rub it.

What at first only led to a wince became a plea and whimper after she rubbed it. ,,Shhh I know I know," she said slightly warningly, feeling his hands on her side as he held on almost convulsively, seemingly unable to bear the pain.

She knew exactly what pain. ,,I just need you - I need you," he stammered, she knew what he meant and, above all, what he wanted.

By the time she had wiped the rest of the blood from his chin and cheek, there was hardly anything left of the injuries. He pulled her close and leaned his head against her stomach, hugging her, wanting to be closer to her.

She put her hand on his head as she did every time, stroking his black hair and holding him. ,,I know...I know Gage and you can do it too...but no drug...for today," she replied slowly, feeling him almost flinch as if she had hit him. But they both knew what it meant for the black-haired man.

More hours, another day without his drug. She knew he was screaming and raging inside that he needed it and yet he was so pathetically handsome to look at.

She placed a hand on his cheek and watched him lay his head against it, snuggling against her before he rose, powerless and surrendered. His hand was entwined with hers and he slowly led her into the bedroom.

The big bed they shared had seen better days, but that wasn't the point. What was between them was something completely different.

She saw him sit down on the bed, almost about to fall asleep, he didn't seem to know what he wanted to do for a moment. ,,Wait, let me help...everything will be better in a minute," she said and squeezed his hand before letting go of his.

She went to the window and drew the curtains, closed the door and undressed slightly. Folding her jeans and putting them aside, she had long since taken off her shoes and removed her top.

When she saw his gaze go to her, he almost seemed to be asking permission to look at her body. ",,The night is all yours," she murmured and opened her bra before it fell to the floor and she took her large T-shirt.

Hiding her body underneath, the shirt went up to her thighs. She saw him scrambling over to her as she lay down on her side of the bed.

Leaned against the pillow and opened her arms to him. ,,That's it," she said and Gage lay down between her legs. His upper body leaned against hers, his head on her shoulder, his hands on her legs.

She felt his tension, felt the slight trembling as his fingers traced small circles on her thighs again and again. ,,I-I'm not getting anything, am I?" he asked, she knew he was looking at her through the built-in mirror in the closet door. She saw his blue eyes closely. She slowly let her hands go of his hair.

What had started as a light stroke became a distraction. ,,No, you got me Gage...that'll have to do for today," she admonished him but didn't raise her voice, letting her hand wander over his neck.

She could feel the rapid pulse underneath and wanted to make it clear to him that he should pull himself together. That she would give him something.

But his protesting whimper was little resistance. Instead, she felt his fingers lightly draw the small circles further up to her center. ,,I know what you want, my angel," she murmured and let her hand wander down over his top.

Went under his shirt and felt the soft, cold skin of his upper body. Heard him exhale shakily as he pressed against her, he knew what she was getting at.

She lightly scratched his cold skin the lack of pain wasn't enough he wanted more instead the red strands were burning him. ,,Please-Please...I need you," he murmured, his gaze going to hers and she gave a knowing grin.

,,I know, my angel," she replied and gave him a soft kiss on his black head of hair before running her fingers over the waistband of his trousers. She felt his tension move around the silver button, wanting to finally be distracted with something else.

If it wasn't lust for addiction then it was always lust for love. For her. She slowly saw the bulge forming in his pants as she stroked the heavy fabric of his jeans.

The coldness that always seemed to emanate from him slowly mingled with the warmth of devotion. ,,Please-please Mommy," he murmured, pushing his hip against her hand, trying to get more of the feeling.

,,You were so strong today...I want you to have it all," she whispered and undid the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper and seeing his cheeks turn pink at the sound. Before she stroked his hardness, she saw the clear bulge in his shorts.

She gave him another kiss on the head before she closed her fingers around his hardness and made a few strokes over the hardness of his pants, the fabric teasing him and asking him to give her everything.

,,Let me hear you," she reminded him and took care of him again. The room filled with his lustful noises, the use of heroin long gone.

But his search for her was something he needed even more than his drug. She only needed one thing. Her broken angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

@icarus-star , @romanroyapoligist , @kristennero-wallacewellsver , @spookyorchid , @roryculkinsgf

[warnersister]

Chapter 10 - Gifts from Sacramento

The Highwayman Series | Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

They’d managed to dig the bullet from your father’s stomach, cleaned it with the finest top-of-shelf whiskey. It was a horrible of thing, 'five-mil' gage and starting to rust, damn thing starting the oxidise while swimming around his guts. Doctor Bates sent him home with twenty-four stitches against his stomach, four bottles of the strongest liquor, courtesy of Penny; and strict instructions to stay on bed rest.

He’d been home four days now, Tuesday it was. And you hadn’t let him do much as lifted a finger. Coyote took over in the Sheriff’s office, and did as the job entailed. Your dad had never and would never admit it, but in a small and unassuming town such as Miramar, there wasn’t much crime; only a little thieving. So honestly there wasn’t much for Coyote to do so he picked up on his tasks very quickly.

But something was mulling over in your father’s mind and he just couldn’t get it out, couldn’t get rid of it. It was itching at him, biting, scratching, taunting. Jake Seresin should be six feet under the ground right about yesterday. Should’ve been hung, mocked and buried two days ago; but he still heard that damned voice outside his window, could still hear his laughs and his conversation flowing as he spoke with you. But Beau couldn’t kill him, not now. Not now him and his little highwayboys had saved his life, he was indebted to Bob and had to admit that fact.

His eyes searched the room, mind trying damn hard to deaden the sounds of your's and his conversations through the open shutters. He looked at the pills Bob had given him, of course they’d been helping. The bullet removal wasn’t half as painful as the one he’d had taken out of his left knee, and the stitches he could barely feel. He squinted and reached for the bottle, looking over the pills and reading the label twice over.

‘To be taken in small doses as instructed by a physician. Better taken with a shot of whiskey. No more than 6 pills to be taken in one 24 hour period. Not to leave the Sacramento area.’

He read it again ‘No more than 6 pills to be taken in one 24 hour period. Not to leave the Sacramento area.’ And again. ‘Not to leave the Sacramento area.’ His eyes widened as a realisation dawned on him. Either these pills were prescribed to Bob on his travels, or they’d been stolen from California state. Which meant these men, either way; were federal criminals. Bob was the suspect, and the other three were harbouring a wanted fugitive carrying illegal narcotics across the country.

He could hang all four of them, get the problem out of his way for good. Away from Texas. Away from Miramar. Away from him. And damn far away from his daughter: six feet below ought to be plenty. He lurched himself out of bed, looking at his stitched stomach; overly weary not to pop the string keeping him together as he headed to the window. “Boys!” He shouted to the grave diggers across the way, the two of them looked at the direction of the voice “Sheriff” the taller acknowledged. “Dig me another three. We gotta hangin’ on Sunday.” The two boys looked at each other and just nodded in response, knowing better than to doubt him, especially now being an injured sheriff.

Now, bob was indeed a physician in Sacramento. A good one at that. He'd helped plenty of folk when they were hurt or injured, but being acquainted with the other Daggers, they'd formulated the idea that Bob's marvellous medicine should be distributed across the US, perhaps even across different continents if they could find someone willing to hitch a ride on a ship over to Europe, hell Payback was in Mexico right now smuggling them across the boarder.

Before they'd made it to Miramar, Coyote and Bob had been North to try sell some of the pills to more secluded towns they'd only heard of in the Rockies. and boy, they were prepared to fork out a fortune for this promise of health but no matter how much they fed him, Bob's mare couldn't make it all the way - which is why they'd made their way south to Texas to try pick up a new horse from the sweet farmgirl they'd bought some carrots off on the way with no intention of returning.

That was all fun until they'd stayed in town too long, and Sheriff Simpson was a very ill man, but he sure as hell wasn't stupid and the fact that he'd caught on brought him some form of satisfaction, pushing aside the pain by clever use of adrenaline and instead, had full intention to have the whole dagger squad hung.

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

[jamietxrtt]

.

Jamie’s been holing himself up in Roy’s guest room, door shut decisively, and Roy’s trying to respect that, trying not to bother him, trying to give him the space he needs.

But as he’s walking down the hall, passing by the guest room door, he hears Jamie’s voice hiss: “Fuck!”

Roy pauses, listening to a string of muttered curses, and then—

“God fucking damn it!” Jamie’s voice cracks with frustration.

“Are you alright?” Roy speaks up before he can help himself, before he can consider if this is a good idea, if Jamie even wants him around right now.

“I’m fine.” Jamie’s response through the door is immediate, but Roy has to wait for him to follow up the curt response. “…it’s just, I’m trying to change my bandages, and this stupid fucking clasp keeps coming undone and I—” He sighs in frustration.

Roy shifts from foot to foot, gaging how likely Jamie is to bolt if Roy is too forward here. “Do you want help?” He asks finally.

A long moment of silence from the other side of the door. Roy shuts his eyes and waits it out, urging himself silently to let Jamie take his time.

“No,” Jamie says finally, but his voice is shaking. “No, it’s fine, I can do it myself, I just…”

Roy’s not convinced. “Can I come in?”

Another beat of silence, but shorter this time. “Sure. Whatever. Do what you want.”

Roy pushes the door open with a creak.

Jamie is sitting on the edge of the guest bed with a pile of bandages on his lap. The spool it was attached to lays on the bed next to him, but it’s clear that he’s had more than one attempt trying to wrap up his torso himself.

And his torso. Good god. Roy represses a shudder.

The doctors didn’t let him see Jamie in the hospital, and it infuriated Roy to no end at the time, but now he was grateful for it. If he had seen Jamie like this there, when Jamie was still trembling, when he had a line of blood trailing out of his mouth… well. Roy would’ve just about fucking lost it, wouldn’t he.

Jamie’s chest blooms with purples and greens. His side, where Roy had tried to help him up on the side of the road, is the center of the damage, the skin nearly black around the areas of his wounds. Roy had expected that. He expected Jamie’s side to be all torn up, like he’d been scraped against asphalt, thick dark blood hiding behind lines of scabs.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the bruising. All that horrible bruising, spreading across his stomach, up his chest, nearly reaching his collarbone. One injury couldn’t possibly have done all that— could it?

Jamie shifts, his eyes cast pointedly at the ground, not looking Roy in the face. His ears are bright red.

Roy shakes himself, trying to keep from staring any longer. The last thing he wants is to make Jamie even more uncomfortable here.

He walks slowly across the room, picking his way around the discarded bloody bandage on the ground, and settles on the bed next to Jamie. When the younger man doesn’t make any moves, Roy slowly holds his hand out.

Slowly, reluctantly, Jamie places the mess of clean bandage in Roy’s hand.

Roy stretches it out gently, shaking the tangles out, but pauses before he gets close to Jamie’s skin. Jamie’s face is turned away from him, eyes shut tightly, and Roy can see his hands balled into fists along the knees of his sweatpants.

“You sure this is okay?” Roy asks.

“Can you just do it already?” Jamie asks, voice thick with irritation. It’s not a yes, but Roy’s already gone this far, so there’s no turning back now.

Roy gingerly starts to wrap the bandage in large circles around Jamie’s torso. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“Just fucking do it, Roy,” Jamie snaps.

Roy doesn’t try to speak again. He finishes wrapping Jamie’s torso and fixes the clasp— Jamie was right, it’s a finicky little fucker— in place. “Done.”

Immediately, Jamie is tearing away from him like a bullet out of a gun, seizing his shirt tossed on the pillow and tugging it over his head— over the bandage, over the wounds, over those horrible bruises. He still seems embarrassed, so Roy decides not to look at him, choosing instead to study the discarded red old gauze on the floor next to his feet.

After a moment, Jamie settles down, and the two of them sit shoulder to shoulder, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, just to fill the silence, Roy says: “You should take some painkillers.”

Jamie’s quick to fight. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Jamie.”

“I told you, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Roy scoffs. “I don’t believe that for a fucking second.”

Jamie goes quiet again, and Roy sighs, biting his mischievous tongue.

“Sorry. You’re an adult. Do what you want.” But he’s already thinking about the back of his medicine cabinet, where he keeps the good stuff hidden, just in case any curious nieces decide to go poking around.

Roy hesitates in the silence, not wanting to push Jamie, but not ready to leave him alone yet, either.

“Do you want to watch something?” he blurts out.

Jamie looks up at him in confusion. “Watch something? Like what?”

“I dunno, whatever you want. You can pick it out. I just…” Roy shrugs. “I’m not tired yet.”

Jamie seems uncertain, eyeing Roy warily, so Roy tosses in, “I can make popcorn.”

That seems to do the trick.

.

While they’re settling on the couch, Jamie scrolling through previews of nature documentaries, Roy sets the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table between them.

He adds to it a bottle of pills, placed intentionally right in front of Jamie.

Jamie turns to glare at him, but Roy’s hands are already coming up in innocence. “I’m not gonna make you. I’m just saying, they’re there.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, snatching up the popcorn bowl and leaving the pills undisturbed, but he selects the first episode of some random space-themed docuseries.

Halfway through the first episode, Jamie leans forward and knocks two pills out of the bottle, tossing them in his mouth without looking at Roy. Roy makes sure to keep his expression schooled, knowing Jamie is daring him to say something and equally knowing that the reaction will not be positive if he does.

Jamie seems satisfied with his nonresponse, settling back into his corner of the couch. The popcorn bowl has been empty for twenty minutes.

By the time the second episode of the series ends, Jamie is snoring lightly, his head shoved into the armrest of the couch. He’s curled up on his side, his injured left side facing up, and his arms tucked protectively close to his chest. Roy shakes his head fondly as he shuts off the TV. Of course the pills would knock him out.

Roy cleans up the popcorn bowls and then stands over Jamie, debating whether to wake him or not. Moving him upstairs to the bed would be beneficial both for his injuries and his neck, but once he’s up who knows if he’ll go down again?

He’s saved from having to make a decision by the doorbell ringing. Forgetting Jamie for a moment, Roy goes to answer, already knowing who’s on the other side.

Ted looks like absolute utter shit. He’s wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt with a mysterious stain on one of the sleeves, and his hair looks like he just took a nap in a fucking bush. His eyes have dark circles pressed beneath them.

Still, despite his garbage appearance, Ted’s bright smile brings a wave of relief through Roy, and despite himself, he finds himself smiling back. “Hey, Ted.”

“Hiya, Royo!”

They hug quickly, but Roy shushes him when he starts talking at his usual boisterous volume. “He’s asleep,” Roy explains.

“Oh.” Ted hunches over slightly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he’s worried about getting caught by the teacher. “My apologies. I can come back later.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Well, you can be quiet, can’t you?” He studies Ted for another moment. “Actually— can you?”

“Oh, hush, you.” Ted shoves lightly at Roy’s shoulder, and Roy buckles into another smile, stepping aside to let Ted in.

They creep past the living room carefully, both of them watching Jamie’s sleeping figure as they pass. Ted lifts his suitcase a few inches off the ground to keep it from dragging.

Once in the kitchen, Roy shakes his head. “The only thing I can think about when I look at him is how much my neck would fucking hurt if I slept like that.”

Ted laughs, taking a heavy seat at the kitchen table. “Ah, I know. To be so young, right?”

Roy grunts, turning to the fridge. “You want something to eat? Drink?”

“Ah— a glass of water would be fine, thanks.”

Roy nods. “Still, right?”

“Uh— yes. Yes sir, definitely not that bubbly concoction y’all call water over here.”

Roy allows himself another smile, if only because his back to Ted. Even despite the circumstances, it’s good to have him back.

“How’s he doing?” Ted asks quietly, casting a glance back toward the living room. “Is he okay?”

Roy lets out a long breath. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

Ted nods sagely. “Mm, yeah.”

“He’s…” Roy sets the glass of water down in front of Ted and sinks into the chair next to him. “I dunno. I got him to take some painkillers today, so that’s good. He let me change his bandages, too. It’s… progress, I think.”

Ted looks much more encouraged by the details than Roy himself is, nodding enthusiastically. “Good. That’s great, Roy. I’m glad he trusts you.”

“Eh…” Roy shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Not sure I’d go that far.”

“I would.” Ted’s expression is deadly serious. “He called you, didn’t he?”

Roy wants to argue, but the reminder sets a lump lodging in Roy’s throat. He is very, very glad that Jamie called.

Roy concedes the point, nodding slowly. 

Ted stifles a yawn with the back of his hand, and Roy takes notice, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. “You must be jet lagged to hell and back, yeah?” 

“Yeah, well.” Ted shrugs. “Haven’t been sleeping much recently, so it doesn’t make that much of a difference anyway.”

The bags under his eyes say that clearly enough, but Roy is still taken aback at him admitting it so freely. “Yeah? You okay?”

Ted hides in his glass of water, downing half the cup, then finally takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Ah, y’know.” He waves a hand away at Roy’s concern. “Just life.”

“…Right.” Roy fiddles with the kettle just to have something to do with his hands. The atmosphere is suddenly awkward, so Roy clears his throat and changes the subject. “How’s your little lad, then?”

“Oh, Henry?” Ted immediately brightens. “Yeah, he’s great! He’s off to middle school now, believe it or not— hard to think he’s soon gonna be a teenager!” Ted shakes his head with a grin. “I took him to the mall the other day, and you know what store he couldn’t get enough of?”

Roy hums, happy to let Ted keep chattering.

“Hot. Topic.”

“Oh, lord.”

“I know! I fear many a ‘it’s not a phase, dad’ may be in my future.” Ted chuckles into his glass again. “And how’s, ah— how’s Phoebe?”

“Yeah, she’s good.” Roy shrugs. “She wants to be an artist now. Last month it was a marine biologist. The month before that, an astronaut. I can hardly keep up.”

Ted laughs easily. “Aw, yeah. Kids’ll be like that. Hell, I remember when Henry was a little younger, I would—”

“Ted?” A new voice interrupts him, and both Ted and Roy turn to the entryway of the kitchen, surprised. Jamie looks baffled, blinking at Ted like he’s seeing a ghost.

“Jamie! Hey, buddy!” Ted’s up in a second, turning towards Jamie with a grin on his face. “Sorry if I woke you there.”

“No, it’s— it’s fine.” He looks between Ted and Roy, still confused. “Why— why are you here?”

“Ah, I was in the neighborhood, y’know, thought I’d pop over for a little visit!” Ted smiles pleasantly.

Ted is obviously useless, so Jamie looks to Roy for an answer instead.

“He hopped on the first flight over when he heard you were in the hospital,” Roy explains.

Jamie is shaking his head before Roy has even finished speaking. “Oh, christ, Ted, you didn’t have to fucking—”

“I know, but I’m here now, ain’t I?”

That seems to bring Jamie to silence. He stares at Ted for another moment, his features twisting into something ugly, something almost like anger. For a moment, Roy is worried he’s going to start shouting.

Then suddenly Jamie’s whole body jolts forward, one simultaneous movement, and he launches forward into Ted’s chest. Ted’s arms come up around him immediately, as if he was expecting this, but they press into the spot on his side where Roy knows Jamie’s wounds are. Roy winces, but Jamie barely even seems to notice. The young man is shaking now, face ducking into Ted’s shoulder, as Ted reaches up to hold the back of his head.

“Oh, buddy, I know. I know.” Ted’s thumb runs across the nape of Jamie’s neck, and Roy hears something halfway between a sob and an apology bubble up from Jamie’s hunched form.

Ted shushes him. “Shhhh, It’s okay. It’s okay. I know.”

Roy stares down at the kitchen table, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his own home.