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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

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Weapons Don't Weep, Part 9

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH

Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

I know almost nothing about the military, and that's how I like it. Any inaccuracies about rank or protocol or what have you should be handwaved away; please do not tell me. Please do tell me if I missed any tags, or if you would like to join the taglist.

CW: gun violence, possessive whumper, abuse of authority, (spoilers, rest of CW in tags)

Masterlist

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Dr. Evangeline Colman, known as Command, prided herself on her patience. She had been the one to develop the protocols that took an unknown danger to the nation and turned it into their finest weapon. The process had taken the better part of two decades, but the results had been well worth the wait.

She was rather protective of her Weapon. With all the work she’d put into creating and molding it, it wouldn’t do to have all that go to waste because someone got careless.

As such, her usual patience was in limited supply after hearing that the Weapon’s escort team was returning— without her Weapon.

Command met the team as they exited their vehicle into the compound built to house the Weapon. She noted that the two senior members, those that would have been in the car with the Weapon, were nowhere in evidence.

“Status report,” she barked at the remaining team members, who all snapped to attention.

“Sir,” one said. “There was an ambush. The terrorists set off a- a shape charge, of some kind, while our convoy was exiting the area. They separated the vehicle with the Weapon, and pinned the rest of us down with covering fire.”

She studied the group. They looked agitated and unnerved, standard enough post unexpected combat. They also looked intimidated, which was the standard reaction to her presence. Underneath those, though… There was a faint hint of guilt, as well.

Command narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “Who gave the order to retreat?”

None of them answered.

She turned to the person at the end of the line, the newest member of the group. “Private Harris.”

The man looked alarmed to be addressed personally. “Sir?”

“Who gave the order to retreat, Private?” she asked softly.

Private Harris visibly gulped. “Sir, I’m- I’m not—”

“Do you know the voices of your teammates, Private Harris?” Command asked, tone even.

“Yes, sir,” the private answered.

“So you would have recognized who gave the order. Is that not correct?” she asked.

“Yes, sir,” Private Harris answered. “I- I mean, no, sir! I- everything was so hectic, and—”

“Are you saying that you were not adequately trained to keep calm and respond as necessary in combat situations?” Command asked, raising her eyebrows. “Did you sleep through that day in basic training?”

“No; no sir,” he answered. The private was practically trembling with fear.

Good. He should be afraid. They all should be, for failing in such an important task. But the person who should be most afraid…

“It’s a simple question, Private. Who. Gave. The order,” Command repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

…was the one who made the decision to leave her Weapon behind.

Private Harris screwed up his courage and managed to say, “Corporal Miller, sir.”

She nodded sharply and turned to face the corporal. “Report.”

He, at least, hid his fear well. His voice was even and level as he spoke. “As stated in the initial report, Command, the convoy was separated via explosive device. Sergeants Lee and Thompson were incapacitated and taking heavy fire. I made the decision to retreat to protect the rest of the team and prevent further losses.”

Command looked him over, assessing him. She let the silence stretch uncomfortably in the wake of his words. Finally, she broke her stare. She took off her glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief.

“What type of sidearm do you carry as your service weapon, Corporal?” she said, not looking up from her glasses.

“A Sig Sauer M-17, sir,” he responded promptly.

She finished polishing her glasses and put them on again. “Do you know the cost of that weapon?”

A frown flickered across his face before he composed his expression again. “About $600, I believe?”

“That model is sold on the civilian market for approximately $650, Corporal,” she said. “We, of course, received a discounted rate. Step forward.”

He complied with her order, stepping out of line.

“Hand me your service weapon.”

The corporal retrieved the handgun and held it out to her, grip first.

Command took the weapon and checked it over. Full magazine, and one bullet in the chamber. She held the gun at her side, finger on the trigger guard, as she continued speaking.

“It is important to know the worth of one’s tools, Corporal,” she said. “For instance, I know that you are worth $[amount]. That is your projected pay over the course of your military career.”

She let another uncomfortable silence settle over the room.

“Of course, that number can change drastically. Tell me, Corporal, which is your dominant hand?”

He didn’t let his confusion stop him from answering, “I’m right-handed, sir.”

Command nodded and took a step to her left. “For example. That number changes if you were to die. At that point, the calculations would be based on what we would have to pay to your next of kin.”

She turned to face the corporal again. “Do you know how much my Weapon, the one you gave the order to abandon, is worth?”

He stayed at attention, not turning to face her as he said, “No, sir.”

Command allowed a grim smile to spread across her face. “Far, far more than you.”

With that, she pressed the gun to his temple, released the safety, and pulled the trigger.

The silence following her actions was almost as deafening as the gunshot.

She stepped away from the spreading puddle of blood as she removed her fingerprints from the weapon with her handkerchief. Then she turned to face the remaining team members.

“Tragedy has struck today,” she said, voice carrying through the whole room. “We have lost three good men. Sergeants Ryan Thompson and William Lee were killed in another act of violence from these brutal terrorists. Corporal Miller then committed suicide upon returning to base, after failing to keep our most valued weapon out of enemy hands. We will not allow these actions to go unpunished. We will find these terrorists and make them answer for their crimes.”

She set the cleaned gun down next to the corpse on the floor.

“Now, find me my Weapon.”

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

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Wondering if we could get a short fic of being dark justiciar shadowheart's pet following the short prompt you wrote earlier. Would be cool to see how she tortures prisoners and treats tav like her pet (dom and sexually) - Shadowheart anon

Pearly Collar | Shadowheart

[ dark content, smut, objectification, humiliation, exhibitionism, pet play, nb!reader ]

"Don't lag behind. We have a very busy schedule for today." The harsh tug on your leash made you whine against the gag on your mouth.

The cold stones of Shar's temple became a very familiar sight to you, crawling behind your mistress on your hands and knees. Put on full display for everyone's eyes to bear witness to your humiliation.

Well, not that they could dare to say a word, Shadowheart made a very clear example of the last person who dared to utter your name on their lips. Their screams echoed through these same halls for days.

Ever since she took over Viconia's position, ever since she was granted the favour of Shar, she made it her personal mission to reduce you to nothing but the perfect picture of an obedient pet.

The hero of Baldur's gate, her very own personal toy.

Something changed in her. The death of the immortal nightsong shifted Shadowheart's whole being.

Did you ever stop and consider the consequences when you stepped into that pool? When you didn't sway her hand away as she held the spear so close to the moon daughter herself.

You can't even remember what went through your brain at that time.

The passing of time was irrelevant down here. You don't get the luxury of natural sunlight this deep underground. Darkness needs to find a way to fester away from the surface.

And that darkness has become your own home whether you like it or not, your fate stopped being yours to command ever since Shadowheart entered your life.

While long ago, armours and magical artifacts cladded your body, weapons, and staffs of forgotten realms aiding you in battle. That reality ceased to exist with your new life in this temple.

Only allowing you to wear those sets of lacey black lingerie she handpicked for you. Adorned in black diamonds and dark pearls, much like your own collar.

Not that walking around naked would've been much different, really, your clothes left very little to the imagination. If anything, it was very generous wording to even call them clothes.

Like a doll almost, she had to have her hands on you whenever she wished. Toy with your most intimate parts and indulge her every whim.

You see, clothes were something reserved for actual people. You weren't any of that to her, not anymore.

After all, what do you even need clothes for? She told you, all you're good for is warming her bed.

As you arrived in front of the giant marble door, two masked guards stood watch. Opening the door for Shadowheart as they bowed in reverence, even as you were dragged behind her inside.

She took a seat on the throne-like chair in the middle of the room, parting her legs to make space for you between them.

And just like any good pet, you obeyed as you crawled between her knees, resting your head on her exposed soft thigh. Her hand coming down to pet your head, teasingly tugging at your gag before taking it off and watching you wipe your drool with amusement in her eyes.

The meeting started shortly after. You toned out the various voices of those dark justiciars and clerics that reported and answered to your mistress.

You knew her well enough, more than any of them could begin to imagine. You knew her before she was the powerful woman that sat above you.

Back when the two of you were equals, standing in battle together and watching each other's back. Back when a simple night orchid made her the happiest you've seen her.

She is never happy these days. Never satisfied with the marks and hickies she leaves upon your skin, nothing sating her deep hunger no matter how long she keeps you chained to her bed.

Today, she is especially pissed.

You buried your face more into the plush of her thigh, growing more and more bored.

Just like always, they shook and cowered in fear in front of her, trembling at the sight of her rage and knowing that displeasing her was akin to displeasing Shar herself.

You surpassed a yawn as they broke down, begging for mercy on their knees. Begging your mistress for a second chance to make up for their shortcomings.

Seeing powerful paladins and clerics breakdown does grow quite tiring after the tenth time.

Only after it ends does your attention come back to reality. After her judgement was passed.

You're pulled by your collar onto her lap, seated on the same thigh you had your head against a while ago. Having your legs spread, the flimsy fabric barely does anything to conceal your dignity. That is if you even had any dignity left.

She dressed you like this for moments like these, for easy access when her blood ran hot and she needed something to squeeze. Someone to squeal.

Were they watching you? Or did they leave the room? You weren't sure, and honestly, you couldn't care. Not when her hand worked so expertly between your legs, not when she slapped the inside of your thigh to get you to spread yourself even more, degrade yourself even more for her.

Your head was thrown back against her shoulder, your body spasming as she milked you dry. Pulling you over the edge with ruthlessness as your cum dripped down onto the floor.

Breathing deeply after being forced into such a strong orgasm so fast and sudden, you tried to steady your shaking limbs.

Somehow this, this is what you never got used to, no matter how many times she makes a public mess out of you.

"Clean your mess." Her fingers pressed against your lips, eyes daring you to disobey as you took them in your mouth. Sucking and licking your own cum from her hand.

She kept them there longer than necessary, making you choke on them and toying with your tongue.

"Good, your brain is still functional after all." She said, gleaming with sadism "Now the floor."

#♡shadowheart anon #♡shart #♡dark shart #shadowheart x reader #tw dark content #♡smut #smut #dead dove do not eat

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

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OCTOBER 22ND. HARLEY QUINN

“stupid bats! you're ruinin' date night!”

♱ — satoru gojo + weaponsplay.

♱ — synopsis; she was fearless, crazier than him and god help the poor soul who dared to cross satoru gojo’s harley quinn during her alone time with her beloved puddin’.

♱ —length; 5.5K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, mentions of smoking, strip clubs, toji being a slimeball, degradation, lingerie, praise, corruption, cockwarming, exhibitionism, power dynamics, weapons play, gun play, knife play, blood play, clothed sex, brief daddy!kink, fem!reader, harley quinn!reader, joker!gojo. not beta read !

♱ — notes; hello again cuties!! i cant believe its the fourth fic already omg, i hope you like this one!! idk how i feel about it but i hope you guys like it at least. mwah <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

may god help whoever pissed you the fuck off.

behind every great man, and all the power he may have, is an equally spectacular woman.

with the exception of satoru gojo, a man who ruled almost an entire city— a man but only a few steps behind the woman he loved. you’re part of the reason he’s even made it this far, surviving under the noses and the partnerships of dirty city cops and big bad crime bosses. he did use you, his pretty little play thing— your alluring eyes, your gorgeous body, your voice that made an itch run up and down his spine.

you were really what let the notorious satoru gojo stay in control.

stay being, the feared, the gruesome, joker.

maybe the relationship you had formed through the way gojo was obsessed with your obession over him—or because of how crazy you just might be. a murderer wrapped in a dazzling, sexy fucking mystery. at this point, the lines between love and lust were far too blurred to be distinguished— maybe satoru did love you, if he left himself fall just enough. he wouldn’t let anyone else have you, not in the same way he did. you’d claimed him far before he had a chance to claim you.

if there was a target on gojo’s back, you’d have taken care of it before he even knew he was at risk of death. not that he feared it…he was the most powerful man alive, but you were like a saftey net, having you made the man feel stronger— even if you weren’t weak. in exchange for every breath he took, every moment that you’d protected him, no crime boss in the city under gojo’s rule could put their hands on you— no matter how much havoc you wreaked or lives you ruined.

truth be told, for a man who commanded so much fear, who smiled at the sight of crimson blood— gojo couldn’t seem to figure out why you didn’t run for the hills at the first sight of him. but perhaps in the time you’d spent trying to fix the broken dancer in his jewellery box head, maybe he’d broken you down too and made you just like him. fearless and crazier than him.

“puddin’,” you drawl, dainty fingers trained to kill twirl a lock of gojo’s white hair between them. “‘m mad at’cha.”

you’d come to one of gojo’s clubs for the night— the weight of a business deal clinging to the sweaty air as bodies on bodies grinded and slid against one another. your role tonight, was to play consolation prize-on-a-strip-pole for the client, toji fushiguro. your man wanted his hands on that man’s money. the money he owed gojo, it was kinda funny, the loan toji had taken never even touched his son; and after that night the kid would probably never see his father again. gojo’d take his money and blow his brains out.

but that wasn’t a price high enough for the way the other man had touched you tonight, his scummy fingers nothing like the man you adored’s pulling at parts of you where your pretty baby doll blue lingerie showed the slightest slither of skin. you’d dressed like this for satoru only, glossed lips drawn into a heavy spout when he’d whistled you over to dance for his client.

it was clear you weren’t in any mood to toy with toji before his inevitable last moments while gojo talked his ear off about percentages and loans fushiguro’s was too dumb to understand. still, you did what your lover asked of you— desperate for ocean eyes to trace down the pearls and pretty lace that moulded to fit the curve of your breasts, the gems that glimmered and dangled just over your skimpy panties whenever you shook or twirled or bent over filthy toji fushiguro’s lap ( his obvious boner prodding into your bare thighs as you worked ).

of course the sight only served to rile gojo up, a cool fire in his heart spreading through his veins like his blood was gasoline whenever you giggled at toji’s half assed compliments. you were only ever meant to smile for satoru, to be this giddy over the strings of words that barely gave you the time of day. he was jealous, yes— unbelievably so but you both had a job to do.

that was until toji unceremoniously cups your covered cunt with a sleazy hand and asks satoru if “this pretty hunk of meat can be loaned as well.”

you lose your cool before gojo does and before anyone knows it, the knife concealed in your dainty baby blue garter belt is lodged deep enough into toji's hand, that it makes the grown man cry.

the reaction was perfectly within your right; bloodlust curling around the dilated pupil in your eye— but gojo had given you the cold shoulder ( no pun intended ) for supposedly messing up his deal— even though you’d done all of this for him. dressed pretty and danced all for him. you’re pissed, rightfully so, and drag your man by the tie into his back office, forcing him down onto the couch to take a seat and learn his lesson.

no one turns their back on you.

and that brings you both to now, blood red lipstick smeared along gojo’s silver moon skin— dragged up his jawline and right under his ear. the crime boss is a little high, running on the fumes of the party roaring outside while intoxicated with liquid lust and obsession directed towards you. his hands roam your blistering hot body, lips on yours despite the plasticky taste of fenty product glossing your own. he misses the metallic, binding down on the pink stained flesh to draw blood— groaning into your mouth as it lingers on his tongue before satoru forces it down your throat.

there are still people who work here in the room, either stuck in their places not knowing where to look or casting their gazes elsewhere as the two of you make out. “get the fuck out,” gojo hisses when he finally comes up for air, though his brain is fizzing like popping candy and he can’t quite think straight without his mind running right back to you. “d’aw… you mad at me princess?” his voice is strained in the base of his throat, since somewhere in the mix of sloppy kisses you’ve ripped through tight dress pants, slid your glistening baby blue panties to the side and have slid yourself down onto gojo’s pulsating cock, keeping it tucked away in your warmth.

even you’re out of breath, chest heaving as you adjust around the lengthy stretch of satoru gojo. “i dressed all pretty for you,” you state, ribbed walls kissing the fat blue vein that wrap around gojo. you drop down his balls, happy to take him into your walls. “and this,” you clench, sending a ripple of desire through the man at your mercy. “this is the thanks i get?” you look down at the silver haired crime boss, hair dishevelled and out of place, through your doe eyes and push your hands into his chest. “men are so useless puddin’.”

your hips peel from gojo’s clothed thighs, a sticky slap resounding in the back room when you thrust back down— watching your man splutter, reaching up to your chest to toy with the flimsy lace around your breasts. “fuck princess,” he heaves in a murky breath, nails digging into your soft mounds. “y’so right, ‘m useless. fucking useless.”

it’s illegal how warm and wet you are, gojo’s sensitive tip nudging against your silken walls as they ripple around him and you cockwarm him. there’s got to be some sort of criminal charge for this, one that’ll keep him locked up in your tightness for all of eternity. “want it off.” he demands, slender fingers poking underneath the material of your bra. “take it off baby, lemme see.” just as ice cold and ringed fingers brush over your nipples, the crime boss thrusts up into you— delirious with addiction and lust, sapphire eyes lost in the abyss of his skull just from feeling you.

“don’t think ya deserve it, mista ‘g!” with your eyes bright and crazed, you mock gojo, keeping yourself seated in his lap as he thrusts up into you again, working his hips into a steady rhythm— enough for the sound of his balls tapping against your ass to echo throughout the room accompanied by light breaths of exertion.

he’s in deep, tip brushing your gummy walls and satoru knows you’ll break soon, he can feel it in the shirt of your hips and how you suck him down nice and wetly. “c’mon baby, c’mon,” the man coos, looking up at you with big blue eyes— their silvering flecks begging you for mercy as if you’re a god. “you know you want it, that you can take it. you wanna be fucked so good, i know princess. let me take care of you.” a large hand reaches around the chub of your pretty hips, fingers spread over the expanse of your soft tummy to dip just over your folds, the finger tips brushing against your swelling clit from over the hole in your lingerie.

you tremble, sensitive and gojo’s eyes light up. “atta girl, give into daddy, lemme have you…” the man’s words are so softly spoken for someone who lives off the sound of screaming victims. “oh princess, ya hear that?” his blunt nails, blood caked underneath them sink into the globes of your ass— holding you just above his lap so you can listen to the lewd, squelch of your sex as he slips in and out of you with every slow roll of hips up into you, creamy strings of your arousal clinging to the blue forked veins decorating his cock. “that’s how much you need me, listen to that. you need me.”

satoru feeds you sweet lies that keeps you under his spell— keeps you under his possession and drowns you with obsession. he keeps you pacified with a lazy bump and grind, barely giving you a second to breathe or think outside of the way he fucks up into you just right. there’s a hand on the back of your neck that keeps you anchored down to your puddin’, your lips parted as gojo coaxes you into his realm of bloody sin and breathes desire into youropen mouth. the way you move with one another, sensual sticky grinds is a dance routine that only lovers know— fingertips and wandering hands alike able to touch and prod and pinch at the sensitive spots you’ve discovered on one another.

“fuck, ‘toru,” your whimper betrays your, just like your body does— you’re supposed to be mad at him, using him but your frame shakes and blossoms under satoru’s touch, blood coursing through your veins as it’s dotted with hormones of lust, stinging at your clit. “son of’a bitch,” is all you can manage when satoru’s lips attach to the valley between your bouncing breasts from over your clothes, sucking a mark into the gap with his tongue rolling saliva over the abused area. he gets you fucked up and dizzy on lust as if it were a drug— looking up at you with hooded sapphire eyes, clinging onto the reaction of his mouth working wonders across your hot flesh.

the crime boss abandons the cliffs of your collarbones, sloppily kissing down to your pebbled nipples as you grind down on his aching dick, back and forth and matching satoru’s toe curling pace— barely pulling out of your selfish little hole, dripping with liquid gold, adding a shine to his thighs under the dingy back light of his club and a wetness to your clothes. every stroke of his dick within the depths of your silken, ribbed walls earns you a lap from the tip of his tongue around your budding nipples and the same action rewards satoru with your arching back and a muffled whine.

“use me,” gojo let’s go of your saliva soaked breast with pop, before he near pleads as if he’s in court and insanity is the alibi to excuse all of his crimes— aching to be locked away in your pulsating warmth for all of time. there’s spit on his lips and chin, a fresh red tint glowing under his pale skin with the heat of his blood blush as he thrusts up and barely pulls back from the heaven between your thighs.

“wonderin’ how pretty you’ll look coming undone in this pretty little get up f’me, princess,” he pants, gaze dropping and fascinated by his milky cock disappearing into your fat pussy. “got all my attention now, don’t gotta fight someone over me— fuck,” drawling out his words, the man uses slender fingers to spread your netherlips apart, showing of the glaze of your arousal as it coats him to his hungry eyes.

he’s a powerfully pathetic man beneath you, grinding up against your salacious insides— jamming into your g-spot, and it makes you mad, it frustrates you how good gojo is able to make you feel even when he’s wounded your heart.

“use me baby, come on. work those pretty little hips, make yourself feel good.” satoru’s cheeks flush a pretty pink; tongue soaked in his own spit as he glances up at you once more— panting like a wet, dirty dog and fucking up into you to his hearts content. using you for his own pleasure even after how he treated you today. you look so good like this, fuck, and gojo thinks about how lucky he is to have a girl like you want a man like him— no one else gets to watch strings of drool break away from the roof of your mouth each time you moan, no one else has pleasure of brutally jackhammering into you, letting you adjust to the stretch of him all up against you.

bouncing in your lover’s lap, you clench down hard until there’s a hiccup in the way he pounds at your puffy mound, and he chokes on a deep whine, blue eyes flickering down to where he pulls himself inside of you.. “really, mista g?” you sigh dreamily, hearts dotted like sparkles in your eyes as you cup his cheeks with one hand to keep his gaze on you and yanking the gun from the holster on his taut waist at the same time. “you really are so pathetic puddin’,”

those same slender fingers on one of his large hands have bruising grip on your waist— the shape of satoru’s fingertips indented into your supple, blemished flesh before he lets go to flip a switch blade against your throat. “being in love with you makes me pathetic, angel?” there’s a gasp that lies wet on the seam of gojo’s lips, shaky as he peels his sweaty thighs away from yours and tugs his cock from your snugness of your oozing cunt before cantering forward and shoving it right up into your womb. the force makes both of you drool, the knife against your throat just nicking your smooth skin and your finger jumps to find the trigger of your gun.

“go ahead, shoot me.” he goads your through gritted teeth, eyes bright with adrenaline and temptation. so you press the barrel of you weapon against the crime boss’ shining forehead and between moonlight coloured locks, letting satoru pacify himself with licking the trail of crimson dripping from your neck in the meantime. blood should be freezing in his veins, not the temperate prickle of euphoria slipping through his veins. you’re a killer, and that excites him, who knows what you’ll do to gojo if given the chance… if you didn’t love him like this. “dead or alive, this pussy’s mine. you’re mine. i’m yours.”

you can hear the desperation caught in the ridges of gojo’s voice while he rocks himself into you feverishly, chest heaving as his pace turns erratic with excitement— and you’re the same, blood rushing through your your body carrying a stream of sex hormones and dopamine. “yeah?” you tilt your head with a sinister murmur, licking the salt from your lips, a murderously obsessed glint in your eye. “you’re mine, puddin’,”

maybe you’re crazy; but that doesn’t matter to satoru, not when his heart beats hard against his rib cage in anticipation. “filthy fucking boy,” you simper. “i could kill you and you’d still be cumming like a dirty slut, huh puddin’?” if he really were to die here, he’d be happy, covered in everything that is you, stuffed inside the woman he loves.

then, you pull the trigger, doe eyes closed adrenaline ceasing your pulse for just a second and—

click. the gun doesn’t go off.

the sick smile gojo gives you is enough to cloud your brain, make you dizzier as he leans upwards to catch your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss— tongue pressing into your mouth, transferring the taste of iron onto your own. “see baby,” he spits along the seam of your mouth, connecting you by saliva there and by fat beads of precum between your sore thighs. gojo’s cock practically fights your selfish pussy to pull out, digging into your g-spot as you fall into a tune of creamy, sensual sex. the blade is still ice cold between your bodies, the man grazing the tip down your middle, over the swell of your meaty thighs… breaking skin shallowly as gojo draws shapes of love, hearts and his name over the tops of them.

the red blood liquid seeps between your legs, leaking from your fresh wounds, joining the slick at clings to your sexes. “does that hurt good angel, can i cut you up some more?” gojo is close to losing it over the mess where your bodies join, getting dizzy, wanting to pull more juices and whines from your pussy and sweet lips.

“shut up, toru,” but you pay no mind to the slight sting as if you’re used to it and you’re wistful when you look at him again, tears caught in your lashes despite how estatic you are. “you trust me?” gojo watches you squeal, leaning back in his seat as you pull your ass off of him, squeezing down on his creamy tip and overwhelming each one of his senses— blue eyes sent back into his skull.

“mhm baby…with my life,” he slurs avidly, sounding like he’s barely there, clinging onto his existence for the ecstasy you have gojo in is driving him off of the walls. satoru pushes his head up against the barrel still in his face, with glinting eyes, keeping it there before he flops back against the couch, you nestle yourself on his chest— practically pounding yourself down on the curve of his girth, drooling honey down his shaft, juices catching on the purpling veins there. how can you not know? you are gojo’s life.

a jack of all trades, his ace… his lucky fixation.

there’s a knock at the door, barely heard over the chorus of skin slapping on skin, the pap of your swollen mound while the crime boss churns up your insides until he’s in heaven. everything is so obscene, unholy sounds from your precious parts

tingling passionately in the air between you due to the crude mix of your bodily fluids. “well ya shouldn’t,” you growl with a bright blood lust in your veins, cocking your gun again. there’s no hesitation in your next moves, putting a bullet in the leg of the person entering only to disrupt you both with practiced ease. “‘m dangerous, honey.”

the intruder hits the ground with a dull thud, which goes unheard under the sound of skin clapping against skin with no rhyme or rhythm— delirious and delectable moans bouncing off the walls.

seeing you effortlessly threaten someone’s life makes gojo’s dick throb deliciously inside of you. “don’t care angel. i’d let’cha fuck me up real pretty,” he laments dreamily over the weight of saliva pooling on his tongue, gaze honed in on where your bodies join, obsessing with how your puffy clit sticks to his pelvis every time he pulls out of your slick slit. “do anything you fucking want to me—“

with a roll of your eyes— you drag the gun back between your sex craved bodies and nudge it past satoru’s glossed lips, forcing it deeper into his mouth until it his uvula. “shut up, baby, ya talk way too much.” your voice is sweet, like honey running through the man’s ears but your expression is crazed, rabid as if hurting satoru only serves to turn you on more. or maybe it’s seeing a man so powerful, so feared just like him, sucking on a gun like he’s taking a cock down his throat— so obedient for someone so used to control. his pink tongue darts out to roll across the weapon, cool in gojo’s mouth despite how hot the air between your grinding, sweat slicked bodies pressed against one another. “you take it like a bitch, i know you can do better.”

letting your head roll to the side, you thrust the gun deep into the hazy heat of satoru’s mouth in tune with your hips slamming down on his aching dick— plunging him as deep as he can go, as much as he can take without passing out on you. “you’re such a mess toru, s’embarrasing h-how much you want this,” you grin, somewhat sadistic, pussy gripping the man for dear life— despite the crude mix of arousal that lets you slide up and down his length so easily. “big bad satoru. mista g. the joker… swallowing down my gun like s’my cock.” you giggle, the condescending tone of your words has gojo’s mind spinning, pushing whatever leaks from his tip further into your puckered hole.

gojo stubbles forward, gagging on the gun, coating it in his spit with his sapphire eyes crossed with a pink flush to his cheeks. “that’s it puddin’, fuck it.” you coo, hazy and impressed before you let your perfectly manicured finger slip over the trigger once more. “fuck me, this gun. like ya mean it, kay?”

he’d do whatever you want if you asked him to, he’d rip stars from the sky— burn cities to ashes, line everyone who’s ever hurt you or lead you to this fucked up life on their knees and kill them off one by one if you needed him too. there wasn’t a person or thing that could stop gojo’s heart from following after your every move, keeping you by his side for all of time.

keeping you stuffed full on his cock, your pussy frothing a bubbly white. between ravaging and feverish thrusts, the crime boss swipes a thumb over your pleasure nub, writing his name in calculated circles over it and smoothing obtuse globs of precum into it too. gojo barely flinches when the gun clicks with an empty shot, hardly breathing with his throat constricting around the barrel at your doing.

liquid lust oozes down his balls as you pull the weapon from his mouth— watching the string of saliva that connects satoru to it. “s’kinda disgustin’ puddin’,” rolling your hips tantalisingly, you wrap your arms around gojo’s head to hug him to your chest in comfort— smiling as he gasps for air desperately. “how much you’d so f’me, you’re a mess.”

“i love you,” satoru counters, trembling against your bosom, white ( though not pure ) hair sticking to your blistering skin. now it’s his turn. he whips his blade out once more; tearing through the sleeves of your pretty lingerie, making sure to pound you until his seed marks your insides and your swollen lips form that nice o-shape you make when you’re falling apart from pleasure. “told you angel, i’d do anything for you.” you gasp at the cold air hitting your skin, then mewl like a fucking pornstar at gojo’s mouth on your breast again— taking your puffy nipples between his teeth and rolling them. “make you feel good, make you see fuckin’ stars.” he looks up at you, so unlike the cool and collected mob boss he usually is and instead, a puppy desperate for your approval.

“if y-you’re that obsessed with m-me,” you squeal, wringing your hands in moonlight locks, every push and pull of satoru’s wet cock sending orgasmic shocks through his system. “then make me cum, s'humiliating how you haven’t yet, can’t you do anythin’. make yourself useful—“

the man doesn’t respond, using one hand to grab the fat at your ass to pull you up and down on him, holding you up so he can fuck you fast and hard— pressing close to your cervix while you gush like a river, face tingling with heat. “keep talkin’ like that baby,” he pleads, almost begging you for more…talking down on him only motivates satoru more, only makes him want to fuck you until he feels like he deserves the honour of bathing his dick in your juices. “makes me so fucking hard for you,”

spinning the blade between his fingers on the other hand, he lets it cut into your flesh with careful affection at your collarbones— growling into the skin on your chest with a trail of sloppy kisses, fixated on the droplets of ruby that ooze from your new wound. his eager tongue slips over it, sucking on the taste of your iron blood, moaning at the taboo flavour. “fuck ‘toru, fuck me good. y’can do better than this,” though he claws at your round ass to hold you in place, balls heavy with cum drumming against the peachy flesh, satoru slips out from just how fast he’s trying to pound you. “s’much cock ‘n ya don’t even know how t’fuckin’ use it.”

useless, he’s so fucking useless and he can barely breathe— using his hold on you to drag your sloppy pussy over his cockhead, struggling to slip it back into with how shaky you both are. close to the edge, close to falling apart. “work with me angel, lemme fuck you again. lemme in, want this angel cunt so bad. adore it.” satoru pleads, bulbous and red tip prodding at your entrance with desire brewing heavy between you both in the sex tainted air. the couch breaks beneath you with the weight of your bump and grind, smearing precum and blood about the place.

“that’s it… oh fuck me, open up f’me angel, pussy so good, you’re so fucking good to me,” the man drawls; listening to the way your pussy peels away from his soaked thighs with a sticky noise as he tries to sink back into your ribbed, silken walls. gojo flips the knife between hands, carving shapes of love into your blemished, soft skin. a heart against your ass, his initials under your breast— whatever you allow him to do, blood soiling through the pale blue of your darling outfit. and fuck if the crimson colour doesn’t make you shine. “s-shit! there we fuckin’ go.”

like a fallen angel, carrying the sins of satoru gojo’s crimes on tone blood soaked wings.

using two fingers, you gather the nasty mix of your mixed arousals and the droplets of your blood— pushing the digits into the crime boss’ mouth and pressing down on his tongue. “y’talk so much shit for someone who can barely make a girl cum, puddin’,” you stutter out, tail end of your words falling into a high pitched moan as gojo fills you up once more in one fail swoop. he bullies his way right up to your womb— clit grinding against your lover’s hip bone painted with your sweet scented juices. “oh baby, r-right there!” you exclaim, but the crime lord can’t tell if it’s from you being so full once more, or because of the cute heart he carves into your inner thigh.

but no matter how much you keep up the act, gojo knows your body like the back of his hand— he knows what you like, how you adore his tongue running between your two fingers like he’s slurping on your puffy folds, nudging it’s pink tip over your darling clit. you shove your digits deeper, lifting and dropping your abused, raw cunt down on the man like your life depends on it— light headed from blood loss and desire. satoru’s cockhead burns past your entrance in tune with your fingers in his mouth, sucking the taste of iron and honey from them— soaking himself in your warmth before he slams up into you.

he only lets you ruin him and his image because he loves you, because he can’t stand to picture you with another man like toji— because being a man of his calibre he knows that he needs to be brought down a notch. “you’re so pretty,” gojo heaves, building up the momentum inside you— pushing himself so deep that he brushes your cervix and the springs in the couch start to break. “don’t know what i was thinking lettin’ toji touch you. you’re so pretty, down here too— fuck!” he groans deep, when your fingers leave his mouth. his jaw is sore but he’s too fucked out to care.

the both of you are in a daze, and satoru is so sweet unlike his usual cruel self— blissed out beneath you. “am i pretty enough to die for, puddin’?” you ask him through ragged breaths— throwing your head back as gojo leans forward with a craving for the salt on your skin, licking a trail through the red that stains between your breaths. the lewd sucking bounces off the walls, harmonising with the squelch of your pussy that squirts copious amounts of nectar every time his balls clap against you. somehow, through the maze of your limbs you grab at the discarded gun and point it to the back of your skull— pressing your forehead against your lover’s. “are you scared baby? worried i might kill is both.”

gojo doesn’t fear death.

and of course you are— but gojo can’t find it in himself to answer you just yet; since your body jerks with stimulation and your cunt flutters around him, acting as the tell tale signs that your orgasm is approaching. he surges forward, sinful mouth locking with yours in a slow kiss— teeth and tongue clashing, his canines sinking into your lower lip enough to draw blood.

“angel… please,” gojo’s hips stutter, his heart rate skyrocketing, cock white with the creamy ring your pussy froths at the base. “please..” he loses his grip on the switch blade, the frosty feeling metal nestled between your throats, pressed up against vital veins and pressing into your skin just enough to draw more blood.

“c’mon mista ‘g? why so serious? smile a little,” you say hoarsely— forcing the man to grin with your fingers pulling at the corners of his bloody lips. “smile ‘n answer for me, my little joker. would you die for me?” you’re choking out his cock, milking it for dear life and threatening to put a bullet through both of your skulls and satoru gojo’s never been more turned on by it— sprinting towards his high.

he tears up, nodding his head, dropping his weapon to wrap his arms around your waist while pulling you down onto his cock and keeping you there— barely letting you off of it.

“i’d die for you; a million times over.”

and for the last time that night, you pull the trigger.

and again, it’s another blank.

fear and adrenaline sparks at your mind, only heightening the sensitivity of your bodies close to orgasm… and that’s all it takes to throw both of you over the edge, falling a limp mess of blood, cum and spit, smoke and knife wounds in one another’s arms as white flashes behind your eyes. the knots in your stomach snap, sloppy cunt streaming clear with your release as a loud, dirty moan tears in the ridges of your throat. “p-puddin’! s-satoru!” you cry out sinfully, and gojo follows suit, losing his words and all ties to any form of sanity.

“f-fuck angel, gonna cum. gonna finally fucking fill you up, just how you want— gonna be useful.” satoru mumbles, spilling into you as you squirm in his lap during your own comedown. “c-cummin’! fucking hell.” his seed coats your inner walls with thick white, so much of him flooding your womb that he’s forced out of you, smearing the rest of the opaque, viscous seed against your sore and fleshy thighs.

still releasing in spurts, satoru pulls out from your heat— both of you sighing in content while his cum pools in your tiny hole, his tip nudging against the heart on your inner, leaking against it sweetly. “i love you puddin’,” gojo hears you mumble over the static in his brain, your voice drowsy and sweet. “you’re mine, kay? no one else can have me but you.”

and just like you say, every little bit of the man is yours— because no matter who marks who, satoru gojo would put his life on the line for you no matter the situation.

it was his innate will, part and parcel of his obsession with you.

for who was the joker, without his harley quinn.

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akkivee · 8 months

Note

IM HEARING SO MUCH ABT THE NEW DRAMA TRACK ON HYPMICTWT BUT WHAT THE HELL EVEN HAPPENED IN IT....

a lot lol!!!! some spoilers below:

the most plot relevant stuff i can think of off the top of my head (i’m letting it stew before my next listen lol)

since the mics are offline and it’s causing issues gentaro takes initiative and goes to ichiro with his infamous documents and reveals he knew rei’s name was yamada rei this whole time

genbro was taken out by the special forces in some manner

even if we don’t know whether or not gentaro and his bro are twins as per the popular hc, gentaro refers to him as his older brother

the true hypnosis mic is the center of the drama so ichiro requests they take this info to jakurai as well

we get a nifty party of ichiro gentaro and jakurai investigating leads to find a way to turn the mics back on that eventually leads them to rei’s lab i think??? a facility of some sort that they need clearance for and jakurai calls hitoya to get said access

these four, as the block party is underway, find a computer guarantee to have info they’re looking for but it’s too secure for gentaro to hack into

ichiro says the password is 0123 and yep it sure was lol

we learn yamada mama’s name is nayuta

gentaro jakurai and hitoya are called away because the block party has been crashed and ichiro is left behind with whatever information is left on this computer

running practically simultaneously, rio learned that the chuuoku women have been arrested from kubiki and, rather regretfully, tells samatoki and juto he can’t participate running the block party

upon relaying why, samatoki is worried for nemu so he tags along with rio to infiltrate the prison where rio’s commander should be

in a wild coincidence, dice happened to have been hanging out with mtc during block party preparations to eat rio’s food and had passed out in a food coma lol. after rio and samatoki left for the special prison, dice, very sombrely, left to follow them

samatoki and rio successfully infiltrated the prison, with dice shadowing their every move, and find otome and ichijiku locked up

we see rio get very angry when they act cagey about iojaku’s whereabouts

samatoki and rio split up so samatoki can check if the cells house nemu and rio can find his commander

it’s after they’ve left that dice comes in and frees otome and ichijiku

nemu had been planning to break otome and ichijiku out this whole time and her mission just so happened to run at the same time as rio’s lol so samatoki and nemu run into each other

ofc samatoki’s happy to see her but samatoki questions is this really the path nemu wanted to make??? but samatoki softens up and is always ready to help if she needs it

rio finds iojaku in his cell and out of his mind. he’s banging his head against the cell when rio finds him and unresponsive to rio but he is secured

iojaku does seem to regain some consciousness as they leave the prison tho

and the block party, all’s fcked lol honobono showed up with her squad and brought the tobari bros and the men they amassed along for the extra fck this shit up goal she had lol

of those left at the party (2️⃣3️⃣🐰🍭🥂👔🎋🍮📿🌙) saburo, ramuda, dohifu, rosasa and jyushi were urged to get to safety. rosho tho, pissed that the party’s been ruined, charges into battle and sasara follows after him with a mic stand as his weapon

but it was a lot of people for five guys to contain so the damage done was great

the tobari bros wind up finding some of guys who escaped, one of which was ramuda, and the burly tobari actually starts choking ramuda for standing up to him

he’s saved by jakurai and co arriving at the scene and jakurai makes quick work of the thugs surrounding them

the frieza tobari got away from jakurai but kuukou was on his tail and he’s also shortly beat down

brave soul hifumi goes to confront honobono and upon hearing hifumi still sees her as a friend, she’s a little disturbed to hear it actually

she’s seen enough tho so she retreats and it must turn the tide as well since the bad guys are out commission as well

the party is ruined tho, as jiro and saburo lament, but kuukou gathers the crowd and makes the pro performers, sasara and jyushi, kick off the show

rosho too, gets up on stage with sasara and they perform a comedy skit together ;w;

it does become a stalling game as they split performances based on who’s here in order for ichiro to make it back to the party

said man has found rei at their old home where the five of them used to live

the confrontation leads to what sounded like an absolutely brutal fist fight as ichiro wants rei to turn the mics back on and rei refuses to do so

at some point rei i believe reveals the 2nd drb was a test to find someone who can use the true hypnosis mic

i didn’t catch all that was said but throughout the conversation rei expressed a very defeatist mentality, but ichiro beats (literally) his words into rei that changes his mind to reactivate the hypnosis mics

it is a reckoning bell for the 3rd drb tho

with the mics back on ichiro leaves rei behind to catch his slot in the performance and rei nurses his wounds watching the block party alone in this ruined house by their fight

ichiro goes on stage tho with the hypnosis mics online again and signalling a hope

and lastly, back with otome, ichijiku and nemu, as the three get their bearings and muse what’s the next phase, otome, moved by dice’s words to her as he freed her, tells them that she’s retiring from politics

#vee got an ask #this is a late night post from me so details are iffy rn lol i was going relisten to it when i got up tomorrow #but here’s a summary if you plan to listen to the tracks ig at midnight???? or if there’s just no summary/tl still #and i’m sorry i don’t think it’s very chronological to the way the tracks told the story lol #it’s the way i’ve sectioned the events in my head so gomenasorry 🙇‍♀️#but i plan on talking about the track tomorrow so even more spoilers ahead lol and hopefully there’s a tl out too

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casuallyimagining · 1 year

Text

When September Ends (Teaser)

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind. Teaser Word Count: 633 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to ???, angst, fluff Teaser Warnings: mentions of minor character death, mentions of weapons

Notes: Thank you to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for beta-ing this for me. you're both saints for listening to me complain about this fic for months.

“Thank you for coming, Captain Min,” one of the commanders says.

Didn’t really have a choice, Yoongi thinks. But it’s not like I had anything better to do.

“We’ve received your official request to return to duty,” the commander–Commander Vela, Yoongi notes, though he’s only seen the man a small handful of times. “All four of them. Given the circumstances, we wanted to give you the opportunity to discuss this in person.”

What is there to discuss? Yoongi wants back in. He’s bored, itching to get back out in the field. He’s exhausted, he’s not sleeping, but that’s nothing a little adrenaline can’t fix. If he stays here, sitting around, doing nothing, he’s going to go fucking insane. And truthfully, not doing anything feels like he’s letting the Empire win, like Kitt and Feeney and Jieun’s deaths meant nothing.

And he won’t let that happen.

But instead of saying all that, he says simply, “You need spies. I’m a spy. I don’t see where the issue is.”

Commander Vela hums, his attention falling to the data pad sitting on the table in front of him. “You’ve been through a lot, captain. Most men would, understandably, need to take time off to-”

“I don’t want time off.” Yoongi can tell his interruption isn’t taken well based on the grumbles that ripple through the room. But he can’t help it. If they would just listen to him, he could convince them that he was fine. Or, at least, that he would be fine if he could just get his life back to normal. “I’ve had time off. I want to get back out there. You need me back out there.”

It sounds cockier than he’d intended, but the sentiment is true. They’d just lost three of their best intelligence operatives. Yoongi knows they can’t afford to lose another.

“How can we guarantee you’ll perform to standard?” A Mon Calamari major pipes up from the corner, his gravelly, grumbly voice cutting through the rabble that Yoongi’s words have caused. “How do you know you’re ready?”

The question catches Yoongi off-guard. “I just do,” he answers, and though it feels like a feeble, desperate answer, his voice comes out cool and confident.

More of the committee speak up. Yoongi can feel his blood pressure rise as the questions come, both more probing and more asinine. How is he feeling? How is he processing? Is he still up to date on his marksmanship training (even though his marksmanship training was basically just here’s a blaster, go shoot stuff)?

He’s fine. He’s processing well. Why don’t you give him a blaster and stand at twenty paces, and you can check yourself if his training is up-to-date?

Yoongi feels like he’s being interrogated. Do they treat their Imperial prisoners like this? He can feel the heat on his skin, can feel the thrumming in his veins. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, forces himself to unclench his jaw. He can’t let them see how much the questioning has affected him, even if the effect is just to piss him off. If they think he’s anything less than perfectly collected, they’ll never let him back in the field.

A dark-skinned commander is halfway through a long-winded question about security protocols, and safety, and something else that Yoongi has lost track of when a voice rings out above the din of the room.

“This is ridiculous,” it says, and it takes Yoongi a moment to find the speaker.

His heart rate picks up, and he can feel his palms get clammy as he zeroes in on her. There, three seats to the left of Commander Vela. He’d know that voice anywhere. And when her eyes lock with his, the room stops, the rest of higher command doesn’t matter.

It’s you.

this fic has consumed 99% of my thoughts for several months now, and it's nowhere near completed, but I wanted to share what I've been working on and why I've not posted for a while.

I'd love to know your thoughts, whether you're excited, what you think so far. this fic is going to end up being massive, and I'd like to share more things along the way as I go, so I'd love to know if you're as excited about it as I am.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga x reader #suga #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #bts #bts au #star wars au #bts star wars au #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #min yoongi fic #suga fic #bts fic #bts x reader

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blackjackkent · 21 days

Text

Rakha and the others trail behind as Lae'zel makes a beeline for the githyanki officer and the enormous dragon flanking him.

"Rider! My time is short!" she bursts out. "Lead me to--"

"Shhhh-sh-shh..." The kith'rak puts up a hand, clicks his tongue sharply. "Such a familiar tone," he growls curtly. "Were I not merciful, I would slice the skin clean from your meat. Yet you are not bleeding - for I am *nothing* if not merciful. Your name, child!"

Rakha can see how Lae'zel is struck by these words as if by a whip. She goes completely still, ramrod straight, eyes widening. Rakha herself feels a surge of anger on the other woman's behalf, anger the beast in her mind immediately clings onto. How dare he--

Images flash through her - of this officer's head severed from his body and fed into his red dragon's gullet. She sets her jaw, pushes the thoughts back and keeps silent through a force of tremendous will.

Nod to Laezel. Go ahead.

(A/N: We get a specifically [HALF-ORC] option here to insist on speaking on Lae'zel's behalf. I can think of some types of characters who would demand to take the lead here, but neither Hector nor Rakha are the type to claim it. Hector because he was a good dude who trusted his friends and Rakha because she has zero confidence that she knows better about the right path through any given conversation.)

"Lae'zel," Lae'zel says crisply, her eyes staring past the officer's left shoulder.

The man looks her over thoughtfully, then nods. "Lae'zel," he echoes curtly. "Proud. Regal, even. You will call me Jhe'stil Kith'rak."

The githyanki words mean nothing to Rakha, but Lae'zel clearly recognizes them and their implication; her head dips deferentially. All of the dominant confidence which she has brought to their battles thus far seems for a moment lost; she is subordinate to this man, instantly and entirely.

"Voss. Knight Supreme," she says respectfully. "The queen's silver. The queen's sword."

"I am who you say," Voss answers coolly. "A ghaik vessel has fallen from the sky, Lae'zel. Thieves aboard have taken a weapon most precious. It is polyhedric in shape, and inscribed with the sacred runes of our people."

It is perhaps a good thing that he is focused on Lae'zel, because Rakha's eyebrows shoot up. She realizes what he is talking about half a moment before the tadpole connection burns suddenly in her brain.

Narrator: You feel Shadowheart's anxiety. The weapon that Voss seeks is the same one the Absolute's followers are hunting. It's the artifact that she carries. Her mind focuses - the giths' suspicion cannot be aroused. They cannot discover that the weapon they seek is right within their grasp.

Well. This is an interesting development.

The Absolutists' hunt for the artifact made sense enough - a weapon that prevented their god from speaking would need to be destroyed. But the gith, it seems, are searching for a more personal reason - Voss's words suggest that the artifact itself is gith in origin.

This makes some sense, as Rakha's brain chews through the available information. Lae'zel has told her that her people have fought illithids for eons, and that the cleansing they seek at the nearby creche is designed to purge a tadpole infection. It is not surprising, then, that a weapon of gith design might also interfere with this cult of the Absolute, since it operates with the use of modified mind flayer parasites.

Voss is still speaking. "Take word to your creche," he instructs Lae'zel firmly. "You are to join our search."

And Lae'zel, whom Rakha has never seen flinch from anything, hesitates.

"Speak up, child!" Voss commands. "Affirm your mandate."

(A/N: TBH Rakha's instinct here is actually to just hand over the artifact. She thinks that the worms will stop being an issue because obviously the zaith'isk is going to work, and if it's a gith artifact why shouldn't it go back to the gith? Gesture of good faith and all that.

Surprisingly, if you do this, Lae'zel gets SUPER pissed and yells at you (and then yells again after the fight), and I'm honestly not entirely sure why? And then Voss just assumes you were the thief in the first place and tells Baretha to kill you anyway. I straight-up can't figure out how to rationalize Lae'zel being so angry, because she doesn't think Voss is a traitor until later in the conversation, and once you get to the creche she gets mad if you DON'T turn over the artifact to W'wargaz.

However, we have another option which still works for Rakha's thought process so we'll just stick with that rather than turn my brain into a pretzel trying to make the other one work.)

Rakha can feel Lae'zel's sudden nervousness through the tadpole connection, an uncertainty that is very unlike her. What is she waiting for? She has said from the very beginning that their best chance of safety was to reach out to her people, to inform them of their plight and obtain their help. Why does she wait?

Mouth a silent command to Lae'zel: 'Truth.'

Lae'zel straightens sharply. "My mandate, Jhe'stil Kith'rak," she says crisply, "is to locate this creche. I was infected aboard a ghaik ship and need to be purified. Your mandate is to aid me!"

Rakha waits for the kith'rak's expected agreement, for him to direct them to the creche and the salvation that awaits there. But he does not move. His eyes narrow and he peers at Lae'zel with sudden attentive interest - and dismay. "Purified?" he says disdainfully. "Soon your skin will go grey and your blood will run silver. You will shed your skin to become ghaik. Only in death are the infected cleansed."

Lae'zel stiffens. Her eyes widen so far that Rakha can see the whites in them.

"Shit," she hears Wyll mutter under his breath.

"Baretha!" The kith'rak lifts a hand, directing his underling forward. His eyes don't leave Lae'zel; he seems to be memorizing her face, her bearing, everything about her. "See that her skull is split and the tadpole crushed! Then examine her corpse. I will take word to the Undying Queen - our search continues."

He pivots sharply, backpedaling as the other soldiers come forward. As he does, his eyes cross Rakha's line of sight and lock there for a moment, and a chill shoots through her, mixed with a flare of rage from the beast.

He is lying.

Narrator: A current of deception carries Voss's words. Wherever he flies - it is not to Vlaakith.

Her mind whirls. This doesn't make sense. The kith'rak has heard Lae'zel's request and denied the purification that she claims is standard procedure - and wants them dead instead. He says he travels to the queen and goes elsewhere. Why?

"Wait--" she starts to snap, but it is cut off into a cry of pain as Baretha's sword sinks into her arm. And then she has no further time to think of anything as the beast insists on revenge.

(A/N: And then I struggled for like an hour to complete this fight without cheesing it, and then I gave up and cheesed it. XD )

----

The githyanki are perhaps the fiercest enemies Rakha has yet fought in the time she has memory of. They move in lockstep, completely in sync, attacking so rapidly that it is hard to keep track of. But even they are no match for Rakha's mad, wild magic that bit by bit tears their regimented battle apart.

Baretha is the last to fall, shredded apart by a cloud of daggers summoned from Rakha's palms, and Rakha's mind slowly clears as she stands over the mutilated corpse and breathes in the scent of its blood.

Emptiness follows the blood-rage, and a distinct note of fear. Now what?

She looks towards Lae'zel. Her gith companion is vibrating with rage and disbelief; her skin is flushed a dark olive and her eyes are narrowed almost to slits.

"Dammit all!" she roars, lashing out with a sharp kick against the head of one of the fallen officers. "A kith'rak demanded my head! He'd deny me a cure!"

She takes a sharp few steps back and forth in agitated pacing. "Bah," She mutters harshly, taking a grip on herself with brutal discipline and coming to a halt dead still. "This is a distraction. The kith'rak deserves the whole of my scorn. How *dare* he speak my queen's name! How *dare* he dishonor her child!"

Rakha listens silently, waiting for the flow of words to stop before speaking.

Lae'zel is furious - but beneath the anger Rakha thinks she detects a hint of something else. Fear. Puzzlement. This has not gone as Lae'zel expected and she is afraid. There is more going on here than Rakha is able to understand, except that Lae'zel - her companion, her... friend - is more rattled than Rakha has ever seen her.

(A/N: I'm 90% sure this dialog has been updated since I played through this with Hector. There are a few more dialog options all expressing more clearly than I recall before that Lae'zel believes Voss is a traitor to Vlaakith because he denied the SOP of purification. In the particular state of things between Rakha and Lae'zel, however, I find one of them particularly interesting. >:) )

She thinks for a moment, and remembers a moment from the previous night with Wyll on the beach. There had been confusion, awkwardness between them, and he reached out a hand and rested it on her arm and held it there for just a moment. Soothing. Comforting.

Lae'zel needs comforting now.

She tilts her head pensively, then reaches out towards Lae'zel's arm cautiously.

Reach out to comfort her.

"SHKA'KETH!" Lae'zel roars. She bursts backwards away from Rakha, knocking the offered touch aside as if deflecting an enemy weapon. The tension that has sat between them for weeks now suddenly explodes, and Rakha realizes too late that she has seen the gesture as mocking given the abrupt ending of their physical relationship.

"I will remove the parasite," Lae'zel goes on, snarling like a wounded animal. "I will see the kith'rak dead and present his corpse to Vlaaktih herself!" She rips her greatsword from its sheathe and turns the point towards Rakha's throat in a quick, spasmodic movement. "Show me pity again and I will present *your* corpse instead!"

KILL, roars the beast in Rakha's head and for a moment she feels her control slip. Were Lae'zel to make another movement, perhaps the beast would take over after all, and Rakha would find her hands around her friend's throat and everything over between them in one great fountain of blood and pain.

But neither of them moves. The two of them - all four of them - are still as statues amid the corpses around them. Rakha is dimly conscious that Wyll has a hand on his sword hilt and an eldritch blast held in the opposite palm, ready to strike - at who she doesn't know.

Lae'zel's eyes search Rakha's, and in that gaze Rakha sees a depth of pain and fear in the other woman that she had not known existed until this moment. She does not understand it, not entirely - except that somehow it is partially her fault. Partially her, and partially this kith'rak who has turned his back on the foundations of Lae'zel's life.

She says nothing, but nods slowly in acknowledgment. And equally slowly, the point of Lae'zel's sword dips, until it falls back to her side.

"A creche is near. That much is certain," she mutters. "We follow the path forward and seek signs of githyanki settlers. No one - not even the ignoble Jhe'stil Kith'rak, will keep me from my purification."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #well this got very long and unexpectedly dramatic O.O #gonna leave it there for tonight - didn't make too much progress today cos i kept getting pulled away XD #more this week thooooo

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thefaithfulwriter1 · 2 years

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Her Serendipity || 3

✒ Summary - In which a woman with secrets happens to be the leader of a Mafia gang with the five loves of her life. But what happens when they soon come across two hybrids that they become very attached to.

✒ Pairing - OT7 x Mafia!Fem!reader

✒ Alternative Universe - Hybrid + Mafia

✒ Warnings - language, fluff, violence, gore, weapons, angst, poly. relationship, ???

✒ Characters - || Y/N, alpha, mafia leader || Yoongi, Beta, human, second in command || Namjoon, gamma, human, third in command || Seokjin, delta, human, fourth in command || Taehyung, hybrid, tiger || Jungkook, hybrid, black panther || Hoseok, hybrid. wolf || Jimin, hybrid, cheetah ||

✒ WC - 2189

✒ Taglist - @doublebunv

CHAPTER THREE

“Now Jungkook, go ahead and step back for me please,” I demanded softly but firmly of Jungkook. Jungkook had looked back at me with uncertainty but was soon bumped by Hobi with his head. Hobi was trying to tell him to listen to me.

Looking at the wolf Jungkook nodded and got off of James and went back to sitting on the sofa. James was on his front and was wiggling trying to get to Taehyung. I had soon stopped him by kicking him in the face. A muffled groan left him through the tape over his mouth.

“Now you can stop that James. You're not getting Taehyung nor Jungkook. And you know that.” I sighed, crossing my arms. I was so tired of this raid altogether. It was quiet as I looked down at James who was now shaking as I glared at him. I was thinking of what I was going to do with him. My thoughts were soon cut off by a clear of the throat. Turning to the noise I was met with Namjoon holding papers. He had a grim look on his face.

“The safe was there and the code was right. There was a load of money… but these papers were there too. There are others that are trying to overtake your territory.” Namjoon answered as he handed me the papers. Taking them from him I started going over them. Sighing, I handed them to Yoongi so he could take a look. Yoongi soon looked at them and sighed and shook his head, and he soon gave them to Jin. Shaking my head, lifting my hands to my head I rubbed my finger to my temples I closed my eyes for a second.

Thinking.

So much was happening and I was beginning to get mad no… I was getting pissed. Shaking my head and turning I looked over to Taehyung. He was curling into himself as he watched me scared but curious. Licking my lips I reached my hand out to him and he took it slowly and hesitantly. Pulling him up to stand I kept a hold of his hand and walked him over to Jungkook. Taehyung instantly went to him as he slowly released my hand. Both of them instantly took a hold of each other.

Looking at the two I smiled then turned my attention back on James. He was still faced down on the ground. A growl escaped me as I stalked over to him and kicked his ribs. A yelp continued to escape him as I kept kicking him, letting out my frustration. With one last kick I grunted. When I was done I sighed and then fixed my jacket. Turning I sent Yoongi a look to handle him. Which he gave me a nod back as he got off the sofa and walked over to grab James and drag him somewhere.

“Alright Hobi, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jin with me. Namjoon, please help Yoongi with this mess,” I ordered softly. Namjoon nodded and followed after Yoongi. The others of my gang began dragging struggling men in their grasp following Namjoon and Yoongi. As for the ones I ordered to follow me they followed behind me as I led them out the building. Walking out of the building I soon paused and took a deep breath of fresh air.

“How do you want to deal with these people Y/n?” Jin asked from beside me. He soon placed a hand on my back rubbing to comfort me and then guided me to move. We both soon walked to the car next to each other keeping pace with one another.

“To be honest Jin I really don’t know at the moment. I’ll have to really talk it over with everyone,” I sighed. I honestly didn’t know what to do at the moment with the knowledge I just found out. I knew for a fact that I wanted to get the others' opinion and their thoughts on what to do before I took action against these gangs trying to take over my territory.

“Well we’ll have to do something soon,” he informed me with a grim look. But he soon smiled at me which I returned with my own smile. My smile soon turned to a frown when I thought of the subject of our conversation.

“I know Jin,” I agreed with a sigh, sending a nod his way.

We finally made it to the car. Taehyung and Jungkook were still huddled up together when I turned around to check up on the hybrids. Hobi and Jimin were still in their animal forms behind the two. Seeming to be staying guarded and observing the area around us. This caused me to smile at the two.

“We’ll have to squeeze into this car. Just warning you guys. I’ll sit in Hobi’s or Jimin’s lap,” I voiced to the four hybrids. Turning I looked over to see Jin already getting into the driver seat. Walking past I opened the back door for Taehyung and Jungkook who went into the car hesitantly. I ignored their hesitants and gestured to Jimin and Hobi to follow me, which they did obediently. Once I was at the trunk of the car, I tapped on top of the trunk the rings on my fingers making a noise signaling to Jin. I soon was granted with it opening. Reaching into the trunk I took out some clothes from a bag. Turning I was met with Jimin and Hobi both in their human forms with big smiles. Smiling back with a chuckle, I gave them the extra clothes before turning and shutting the trunk.

“You two did good today.” I informed them as I turned to them.

“It was a difficult raid but it turned out okay,” Hobi explained to me as he buttoned up his pants. He had a wide smile as his tail wagged. Smiling at him I reached up to fix his hair causing his wolf ear to twitch. He soon hugged me which I returned happily. I giggled when I felt a growl come from him when I kissed his cheek close to his lips. I was soon sandwiched between the two hybrids. Because Jimin had joined into the hug wrapping his arms around me from behind. A purr left him as he hugged me and Hobi close to him.

“Yeah it seemed like it. I really hate that James guy. I was getting ready to jump him when talked nasty about you Y/n,” Jimin growled. Hobi soon nodded his head that was buried into my neck scenting me with his own growl. Chuckling I was about to comfort the two but was cut off by Jin shouting from the window.

“Come on you three we gotta get going!” Jin exclaimed from the open window. I chuckled once again hearing the two wrapped around me sigh with a pout. Shaking my head I took their hands and led them to the front of the car. Hobi walked to the front door of the car soon after I gave him a kiss on the cheek. Jimin kept a hold of my hand as I led him to the back door of the car. Opening the door I was met with Taehyung and Jungkook sitting in the middle and window seat. Jimin soon went and sat in the car. Then I was pulled onto his lap soon after. I chuckled at him when he hugged me close. Sitting sideways in his lap I then wrapped my arms around him. There was a long silence in the car, that is until Hobi turned around in his seat with a big smile. Looking at us, his tail wagging. I could feel Jimin chuckle against me.

“Hi, I’m sure you already know but I’m Hobi. I was the wolf that was there with you guys!” Hobi beamed at the two as he waved. I always loved and admired how welcoming and bright Hobi’s attitude was especially in our line of work. I found it enduring.

“H-Hi,”Jungkook stuttered from his seat near the window.

“Calm down Hobi. Sorry about him he can be a bit much. He means well though.” Jin reassured Jungkook and Taehyung who looked confused and still scared. I knew he saw this so he was trying to make sure they were comfortable. But as he said what he said Hobi’s ears fell flat on his head as he pouted.

“Oh don’t worry Hobi we love you the way you are,” I gushed. Leaning forward carefully with Jimin still holding me I reached forward and moved his hair from his eyes. This caused Hobi to blush as a smile came on his face again as he looked at me. After that it seemed everyone went quiet again. Smiling at Hobi and more so to myself I leaned back into Jimin who hugged me tightly. Turning I looked at the two next to me. Seeing them I watched as the two had looks of confusion.

They were watching the four of us with wonder.

I knew they had questions. But at the moment I was too tired to answer them. Sighing, I took off my heels and unbuttoned my coat. I proceeded to get comfortable and curled up into a ball in Jimin’s lap. Soon I placed my head on his shoulder. After a moment I closed my eyes and then felt Jimin place a kiss on my head. Smiling, I snuggled more into his hold. I knew I had a lot to do. I was just so tired at the moment. I really tried to stay up but the last I heard was a whisper near my ear.

“It’s okay go to sleep love,” Jimin soothed.

_____________________________________________________________

As Y/n slept the other five were silent. That is until Hobi turned around in his seat with a look blank of emotions. He looked at the two with seriousness. As Hobi looked at them Jimin soon shuffled with a sleeping Y/n in his hold and looked at the two with the same expression. Taehyung and Jungkook soon scooted closer together not knowing what was going on or what was happening. Jin knew though and kept his attention on the road. He knew the conversation the hybrids were about to have and would only join if necessary.

“I’m only going to say this once to the both of you. You hurt or put my pack in danger. I will hunt you down with Jimin and it won’t be pretty,” Hobi growled at the two hybrids who were cowered in the corner of the car. Jimin nodded in agreement. The two knew better than to challenge the wolf and what they guessed to be the cheetah hybrid. And they weren’t really surprised at the threat. This was their pack and they were wanting to keep it safe.

“I wouldn't take the threat lightly, it's not just them you have to worry about,” Jin threw in as he drove. Understanding the two nodded obediently as they looked at the others.

“Other than that we’re heading back to our home. There you can rest for the night we will provide you with the essentials you will need. We will keep our part of the deal… but you need to make a big decision. Join our gang or start anew. Take your time tonight, sit on it, discuss it whatever. We will send someone for you in the morning and you can meet with all of us, tell us your decision and ask your questions then. And things will be done according to your decision.” Jimin informed the two as he rubbed Y/n’s back as she slept. The two hybrids in the corner of the car gulped and sighed and looked into each other's eyes. Seeming to have a conversation of their own. They had so many questions but knew they needed to talk about what they were going to do with their life. But something was bothering the two and Jungkook couldn’t keep it to himself much longer.

“Will we be able to stay together with whatever choice we make?” Jungkook asked the others as he looked at Taehyung. Once hearing this question Hobi and Jimin looked at each other as Jin looked at the two as well. They understood their question and wanted to calm them. They knew the feeling of wanting to stay together.

“Yes, we will make sure to keep you together. Now that is all I wanted to let you know about. We still have a ways to get to our home. So go ahead and rest. You guys can ask more questions tomorrow.” Hobi was the first to answer with a soft smile for the first time since the beginning of the serious conversation. After that the car was silent. Taehyung and Jungkook cuddled close together and rested. Hobi watched as the scenery passed as reached over and he held Jin’s hand. Jimin was purring contentedly as he cuddled into Y/n. Y/n sighed happily in her sleep as she snuggled into Jimin’s arms.

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kiastirling-fanfic · 1 year

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happy dadwc friday Kia!! A prompt for Leda Aeducan (canon romance Fenris??? INTRIGUED), if that strikes your fancy: “they’re with me. and so long as they are, you’re never going to have anything to do with them again. clear?”

jhdvcdks that was supposed to say Zevran. But I'm still doing it. Welcome to a new AU I've just come up with, where Fenris went to Amaranthine instead of Kirkwall. (How that impacts Hawke's story I cannot say but I decided Anders didn't leave. So.)

I'm starting this AU with Danarius showing up in Amaranthine to take Fenris back because that's where that quote takes me.

@dadrunkwriting

Fenris had made many mistakes in his life, even if he couldn’t remember some of them. The lyrium tattoos that were carved into his flesh, the days of screaming pain that turned all that preceded them into a blank slurry, a vague fuzz that only gave him the impression that all he was had changed-

Whatever brought him to that point had certainly been the worst, but his decision to flee from Seheron and south to Ferelden certainly ranked up there. A different man might have hunted Danarius himself, or fortified a stronghold and killed his old master, but that was not who Fenris was.

He was a fearful wolf. Capable yes, undoubtedly, else the Wardens never would have taken him on, but in the face of all that he had once fled?

“Fenris is my property, little Warden,” Danarius sneered. It was no exaggeration to say he looked down his nose at the Warden Commander of Ferelden, and not only because she was a dwarf. When the Blight was declared, shortly before he’d been forced back from Seheron and left Fenris to rot, he’d made his disdain for the Wardens known.

“Fools who see what they do not understand and destroy it. We could capture the old gods, study them, but they’re so blinded by their honor- pah!”

It was not as though Danarius had ever taken steps towards such a goal, he’d never seen a darkspawn Fenris was sure, not as Fenris now had. If Danarius had met the Architect, would he have tried to understand the talking darkspawn? Or would he have pissed himself and fainted? Fenris was fairly certain it was the latter.

Fenris was fearful, yes, but he’d been a Warden for years now. He’d found a home not even Danarius could take from him, not without treaties tying each nation to the independence of the Wardens triggering and sending the world to war with his former master.

Only a Magister could be so arrogant as to ignore that, and Danarius was among the most arrogant of them all. Who else would attempt to stand toe to toe with the Warden Commander, the renowned Hero of Ferelden, in her own keep?

“And I told you, he’s with me,” Leda ground out, her feet planted firmly, hands primed to send an arrow straight into Danarius’ neck. It didn’t matter her weapon was sheathed, she could put an arrow through his eye before Danarius could get more than halfway through summoning energy for a spell great enough to deal them sufficient harm. “And so long as he is, you’re never going to have anything to do with him again. Are we clear, Magister?”

Someone so small should not have been intimidating, but then many would say the same of Fenris and his wiry muscle. Had that not been part of the appeal to Danarius? Well, Fenris couldn’t say. He remembered so little, even after the Joining had crashed into his broken memories like a wave.

With what few scraps of memories that he clung to, Fenris knew exactly how much time he’d spent hiding behind others. He rested one gauntleted hand on Leda’s shoulder as he stepped around her, the same that had a gold ribbon tied around his wrist the precise color of her hair. He would not hide behind her today.

“Danarius,” Fenris said before his old master could enrage the rest of the Wardens assembled. “I am a Grey Warden. I have been one for years. By the edicts Tevinter signed with Weisshaupt, that makes me a free man. Do you mean to press your claim on me?”

Danarius’ twitching fingers were answer enough. It was a shame for him that Fenris had gained so much experience slaying far more frightening creatures than a mere Magister. His fist was embedded in the Magister’s chest before more than the slightest spark could coalesce.

“Your candor is appreciated.” Fenris’ voice was level even as his companions clashed with Danarius’ minions, keeping master and slave safely away from those who would interfere. Even Anders joined the fray despite their constant bickering. Later, Fenris might feel touched. “Your remains will be returned to Minrathous, though I doubt there’s anyone there who would mourn you.”

What else Danarius might have wished to say was only blood pouring from his lips once Fenris pulled back his fist.

When all was quiet and the bodies were away, Fenris and Leda curled together in her chambers. Some might think he was shackled to the Wardens, tainted, doomed to die when his Calling inevitably came, but he had never felt so free.

#dadwc #Fenris/Aeducan adjacent #Warden Fenris AU #no idea if that tag will continue to exist but it's fun to think about #dragon age drunk writing

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year

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THE FOX AND THE HOUND™︎

fem!oc x kyle “gaz” garrick

in which a sardonic, cunning, freakishly independent irish girl with a dark past and questionable future finally finds someone that she doesn’t want to push away… and she’s absolutely horrified

parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

TW: light cursing, violence, blood & gore, death

❝ A BLIND BETRAYAL ❞

Dallas, TX, USA

12 Nov 2022, 0400

— VIXEN CHUCKLED LIGHTLY, THE WARM BLOOD THAT WAS LEAKING FROM HER RIGHT TEMPLE NOT PHASING HER IN THE SLIGHTEST AS SHE SMILED A CROOKED SMILE. The man ahead of her in a full military uniform, complete with a helmet and balaclava, pulled a chair closer to the one she was tied to. His knuckles were littered with blood spatters that weren’t his own.

“Gonna take a little more than a few hits to make me squeal like a pig, ya’ gobshite,” She snickered, spitting a small spray of blood on the concrete floor beside her. Vixen’s platinum hair was stained red in a few places, but her amber eyes were just as alert and amused as ever. The man in front of her, the one that had so kindly been using her as a human punching bag, shifted, spinning the chair under him backwards and straddling it.

Let’s just say… her transfer from the ARW to Task Force 141 hadn’t been the smoothest. Of course, there was a mix up with her transportation, and her entire squad was practically pissed to no end that she was leaving, but the largest, glaring problem was the fact that her transport vehicle had been run off the highway and intercepted by a masked militia she didn’t even recognize. She knew leaving Ireland was a bloody bad idea. She just couldn’t seem to get it through the thick skull of her former commanding officer, who completed her transfer like he just couldn’t wait for her to be out of there, no matter how hard she tried.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” The helmeted man started, rapping his fingers against the backrest of the chair. He had a gravelly voice and a thick southern drawl. She hated stupid American drawls. “We know you’re on your way to join up with Task Force 141. We’ve observed private military contractors moving toward their home base. We just want to know what they’re planning, and then all of this can be over.”

“And put a stop to all the fun? We just got started!” Vixen feigned a pout, smirking mockingly. “Why don’t we do a little tit-for-tat, aye? You tell me what your interest is in Task Force 141, and then, maybe, I’ll let a few details slip.”

He huffed behind his helmet. “That’s not how this works, darlin’. I’m the one asking the questions.”

“Don’t darlin’ me, cowboy,” She ordered, raking her irises across his figure, complete by combat armor and a gun sitting off to the side. There were four other men in identical uniforms stationed around the empty room. Two by the door, two against the wall behind her. One single lightbulb hung right above her head, putting a coincidental spotlight on her. Little did they know, she loved to be in the spotlight.

“Farris, got any intel yet?” A man’s voice echoed from behind the door. It was the first time she’d heard a voice other than her interrogator and her own since she’d drifted into consciousness in that dreaded place. Since she’d woken up, wrists and ankles hog-tied to an old metal chair, completely devoid of every weapon she’d previously been carrying.

“Negative, sir, this one’s a deflective little slut!” He shouted toward the door.

Vixen snorted. “You should write a course on how to woo women. You’re a natural!”

That statement earned her a hard punch to the face. The chair tipped to the side and rocked back into place from the force of the strike. She felt a stinging, tingling pain ripple through her left cheek, and the ever-so-familiar warmth of blood beginning to leak from her nose made its expected debut.

“Get that info and end things, Farris, she has friends in high places,” The voice came from beyond the door. “We’re running out of time.”

Helmet man, or Farris, chuckled. “Don’t worry, sir. If she doesn’t speak up soon, I know how to make her scream.”

Vixen’s eyebrows shot sky high, and she ignored the blood dripping down towards her lips. “Hate to break it to you, buddy, but I’m not a do-it-on-the-first-date kind of gal.”

Another strike came, this one from the right, and harder. The chair would’ve fallen over if Farris hadn’t have grabbed her by the vest and yanked her toward him. “You’re gonna tell us what 141 is doing, you condescending little dick, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it,” She replied blankly. He let go of her collar and stood up, shoving his chair across the room in a fit of anger. She was about to ask him what the chair ever did to him, but that was when he reached for his hip and unholstered a pistol, flicking the safety off with a glare of satisfaction.

“Tell us what the 141 is up to,” He ordered, switching the firearm from hand to hand. “Or die.”

She scowled, the familiar tension of life-or-death lurking in the air. A tension she was unfathomably familiar with. “You won’t shoot me. I’m your only source of information.”

“No?” He questioned. As quickly as lightning, he lifted the firearm and pulled the trigger, a sickening boom emanating through the small room. Vixen let out a shrill shout when she felt an exploding pain in her right leg, and for a moment, she thought her knee might’ve been detached. She glanced down. Her leg was still there, yes, but the thigh of her tan cargo pants was turning red at an alarming rate. “There are plenty of places I can shoot where you’ll still live to give me answers.”

Vixen was breathing heavily, swallowing down every ounce of panic and weakness that threatened to well up in her and forcing him a condescending smile instead. “I’ll still live, sure. Give you answers? Unlikely.” She muttered, trying her best to decipher without looking if she’d been hit in an artery. She noticed the faint lightheadedness that was trying to creep in, ignoring it with every cell in her body.

Farris stepped forward, aiming the gun at her torso. “What is the 141 recruiting for?”

A soft, distant shuffling noise caught her attention. She glanced up at the door. In the reflection of the concrete beneath it, she saw the shadows of two pairs of feet. They shuffled around for a moment, and a second after, there was a soft thud.

She glanced up at the helmeted man with a small smile, glancing at the firearm like it was a water gun he was threatening her with. “What’re they recruiting for? Isn’t it obvious? Fun.”

At that very moment, the wooden door was slung open from the outside. Vixen hunkered down in her chair as gunshots rang from every direction. The constant boom went on for a few moments, almost like a systematic rhythm playing over her own heartbeat in her ears, until finally, it quieted.

“Get ‘er out of the chair. Tell Price we’re gonna need medical when we get back to base,” A low, growly voice with a thick Manchester accent barked. Vixen glanced up, eyes locking on the black-clad mountain of a man in the doorway. His face was hidden behind a very real looking skull mask, and not an inch of skin was exposed on his entire body, not even his hands. He had a sniper rifle hanging around his back an automatic one in his gloved hands. Vixen glanced at the floor, eyes meeting the exact image she thought she’d see. The militia’s guards were rotting in puddles of crimson.

She flinched when something cold landed on her wrists. Glancing behind her, she spotted two more bodies and another man, kneeling, picking at the ropes that bound her hands to the chair. He had a carefully buzzed mohawk and a deadly focused expression as he loosened the knot.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. The one in the doorway had said Price.

John Price was the name the captain she was transferring to.

This was Task Force 141?

“Bit late for the party,” She stated, bringing her hands forward and shaking out her wrists as soon as she man behind her got the rope untied.

“Fashionably late,” He muttered, thick Scottish accent floating through the air like a refreshing breeze.

“Thank God. With the little bit I heard about you, I was afraid you’d all be brits,” She sighed in relief, rubbing her eyes. “I hate the British.”

The scot patted her shoulder, bending down and untying her ankles. “Me, too.”

Someone was suddenly latched onto her vest, hoisting her out of the chair. It took her a solid ten seconds to realize the big man with the mask had made his way over. She hadn’t seen nor heard him. How could a man that big move like that? Like he wasn’t even there? Like a ghost?

“You shot anywhere else?” He asked. Only then did she spot the cold, distant gray eyes sitting behind his mask, carefully taking in every detail of her being.

“No, just the leg. Doesn’t feel critical,” She replied, although it did hurt like an absolute mother.

“No, not shot anywhere else,” He said into his radio, obviously updating whoever was on the other end of the line about her status. The big man swooped her off of her feet and threw her over his shoulder, prompting her to squeak.

“What the bloody hell?! Put me down, you eejit! I can walk!”

He dropped her straight onto her feet again. A shooting pain ripped all the way from her leg to her head, and she didn’t know she was falling until he grabbed the back of her vest to keep her from hitting the concrete.

“Is that so?”

She pulled her mouth into a thin line as she struggled out of his grip, standing on her single uninjured leg like a flamingo. “Yes, it is so, big man.”

“You gonna hop on one leg up the stairs and out the door, too?” The scot joked. Vixen’s face fell. Stairs? She didn’t know there were stairs.

Without another word, the big man picked her up again, tossing her over his shoulder like a rag doll. They proceeded out of the building, which turned out to be a tiny shanty with a massive torture basement? Vixen didn’t pay much attention because she was too busy telling that bloke to put her down. But he only did so when they climbed into a military vehicle parked outside. He dropped her on one of the bench seats in the back, posting up across from her as the scot climbed in the drivers seat and roared the engine to life. The headlights made everything glow, and that was the first time she saw the bodies outside. A dozen, maybe more, in the same uniform as Farris, all dead with their blood decorating the shack’s yard.

“This place needed some new decor,” She hummed, wincing lightly as she brought her injured leg up to rest on the seat. “There a medkit in here?”

The big man stayed silent, reaching under his seat and retracting his hand with a white box. She took it and placed it beside her. She rolled up her pant leg, grimacing at the nasty bullet wound in her right thigh. There was no exit hole. But, then again, it wasn’t squirting blood every time her heart beat, and it looked a good few inches off of her femoral artery. Probably just ripped through the skin and muscle on the inside of her leg.

“You got a blade?” She questioned, bouncing lightly as the car rolled along. After a quiet moment, the man across from her handed her a small knife. It was thin and long. It would do nicely.

“Thanks,” She continued. She grabbed a long wooden stick out of the medkit and placed it between her teeth. And, after a mental count of three, shoved the knife into the hole in her leg.

The adrenaline pumping through her veins kept her from feeling most of the pain as she weaseled the blade around inside of her leg, dragging it back out. She did that a few times more, in, out, in, out, dragging it against each side until finally, a bullet clanked against the metal seat under her. With a satisfied sigh, she grabbed some wipes from the medkit and ripped them open, cleaning the seat where her blood had dripped all over it. After, she bandaged and gauzed up her leg, pulling her pants back down over it all.

The man across from her watched in silence as she cleaned up the medkit mess, closing up the case and leaving it to sit on the seat next to her. Her amber eyes locked onto his gray ones, each displaying a deep, dark coldness that looked eerily similar, yet, utterly different.

“I like your eyes,” Vixen stated, shifting in her seat. She wasn’t saying it to acknowledge the fact that it was the only part of him she could see… she was saying it because she really did like his eyes. She liked the way the distant glint in his irises made her feel. Like she wasn’t the only completely detached soldier in the car. And while their coldness manifested in different ways — the man staying physically distanced, and Vixen, burying the broken pieces of her real self under layers and layers of sarcasm and cynicism — it made her feel something. Even if she didn’t know what, it relaxed her buzzing adrenaline and allowed the rocking vehicle enough leeway to lull her to sleep.

— ☘︎ —

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reddus-sideblog · 2 years

Text

M.E.R.C.s - Crossfire (Part 1)

7-21-890 AR

The alarm buzzed. The masked mercenary looked at his wrist watch, before turning off the alarm. 11:00 AM. The first team should be moving in soon. He leaned back against the squat stairwell hut and keyed his radio twice, and within moments he received two sets of confirming clicks from the other teams. Even with their encryption chips it paid to be secretive with communications, especially in a corporate sector like Naperton that was a stone’s throw away from a federal police precinct.

Bones hazarded a glance out from the cover he sat in, peeking out at the Power Motors Incorporated building that was half a city block away. It all looked like business as usual, no high alert lights, no lockdown shutters, no sign of security guards or corporate soldiers. Things were going right for once. The ex-soldier developed a little smirk beneath the skull-emblazoned balaclava. Maybe today wouldn’t be a horrible mess.

“All good?” asked the rookie to his right. Her tone was only half-interested, as she was occupied with assembling the anti-material rifle that she was kneeling in front of.

“Nothin’ out of the ordinary, anyways,” Bones replied, trying his best to sound like a responsible team leader.

Cash, the young lady next to him, was one of the M.E.R.C.s he had hired on for this mission. The girl had been with the Mercenary-Contractor Association for a few years now, and had been a part of the M-CA’s Youth Program before becoming a full member.

This hit on the PMI building needed a bit more manpower than the handler usually had at his command, so he had brought on some additional help. The rookie was a bit of a gamble, but she had a reputation as a half-decent sharpshooter, and Bones couldn’t afford to be too picky. Even though Cash was a bit rough around the edges, she listened to the older M.E.R.C. and did as she was told.

Bones remembered when he was a young buck in the Newland City Self Defense Force, listening to his commanding officer and patrolling through the civil war-wracked Souther Bay. It really had been a different time. Now he was back in Newland, sitting on top of some building in Illigan, in the act of executing an attack against one of the city-states largest heavy industry corporations.

Under the pretext of checking his own rifle over, Bones surreptitiously watched Cash assemble the anti-materiel rifle he’d purchased for the mission. He hadn’t even had a chance to put the weapon together himself, as it had been delivered just before Bones had left for the team’s meeting place. From behind his sunglasses Bones watched Cash’s sharp eyes go over each piece before slotting it into the weapon. The blonde girl had an intense look about her face that never seemed to go away, as though everything that she looked at was actively pissing her off. The fierce appearance was only added to by the eye shadow she had smudged under her eyes to reduce glare. The golden hair on Cash’s scalp was pulled back into a small ponytail to keep it from getting into her eyes as she worked, while the short hair on either side of the ponytail was left to hang.

The two of them were dressed to differing standards, with Cash just wearing an open flak vest over her tanktop and short shorts. She didn’t carry much more than the huge rifle and a good number of extra magazines for it. Bones on the other hand was clad in body armor from the neck down, and as the day wore on he was beginning to regret it. The sun was approaching its zenith, and he was going to start cooking in his armor soon.

Still, he thought to himself, better to suffer a bit of heat exhaustion than terminal lead poisoning.

The last parts of the AMR clacked into place as Cash finished putting the weapon together. She racked the bolt, throwing a high-velocity round into the chamber before turning towards Bones, a smug look on her face.

“Ready to fuck.”

Bones nodded, checking his watch. 11:03AM. Ariadne and Karsyn should be at the server room within the next seven minutes, then the real mission would start.

***

The sergeant paced back and forth up the starboard side of the monitor’s length. The light breeze was fluttering her shin-length white coat with each of her lengthy strides, and tousling her long hair that was tied in an elaborate, net-like braid along the left side of her face. Her face was screwed up in a look of concentration that made her look like the ship’s deck had offended her somehow, as she bore down on it with her sideways-slitted, blue eyes. She drummed her fingers on her shotgun’s barrel as she went over the mission’s outline like a litany.

Take the prisoner from the private holding cell in the Bergell security building. Take the prisoner aboard the Seabrisket and transport them to the Haysau Sector dock. Give him over to Tech-Seer Ilos at the parish the next sector over.

It wasn’t a hard job, really, but Sergeant Maisie Stone couldn’t stop pinning her ears back and flicking her braided tail. The equine chimera wasn’t convinced that the mission would be that simple. Something always happened along to make a cakewalk into a miserable scramble for life and limb.

The Holy Mercenary Brigade hardly ever had easy jobs thrust upon them, but the sergeant felt like she always ended up picking the shortest straw when missions were up for grabs. This one was seemingly easy, but a pessimistic attitude usually paid off in her experience. More than that, though, sticking to the plan she had constructed for the operation would surely see them through.

Sergeant Stone stopped her pacing to make her way to the back of the vessel. The Seabrisket was a well-armed canal monitor, with a faded red paint job giving way to similarly colored rust all along her length. Despite the rust the ship was still solidly armored, and her quartet of guns did inspire some confidence in the handler.

Stepping over the starboard machine gun nest, the mercenary continued aft towards the Seabrisket’s engine compartment. Maisie banged on the upwards-facing shutter a few times, announcing herself in her standard Arkgomery drawl.

“Open up private, it’s just me.”

The latch on the shutter clicked from inside the engine compartment and one of the doors swung open. The white-clad chimera was met by a similarly dressed human youth. The iconic kevlar-padded coat of the Holy Mercenary Brigade was a bit large on Private Evan Theos, but he wore it with some dignity (though he had rolled up the sleeves). When the scrawny boy had shown up that morning to join the mission he had looked well-groomed, but his nice, combed hair was actively becoming messier by the hour, despite how much the brigade’s hat hid most of it.

Like the other members of the 3rd Illigan Brigade of the Holy Mercenary Brigades, Theos wore a white cowboy hat with a brim that was upturned on either side, with a cord to tighten it around one’s head and the holy symbol of the Divine Church emblazoned on its brow. Hats varied from brigade to brigade, with some using berets, some others even using caps. It was a way to keep organized while en masse, and it allowed different brigades to identify each other easily enough.

Sergeant Stone straightened the private’s hat wordlessly, making the young man’s face flush with embarrassment. She looked past the young mercenary into the engine compartment, looking over the captive that was being stowed in the armored box.

“He hasn’t been any trouble, ma’am. He’s stayed out like a light for most of the trip,” said Theos, saluting a bit too late. He was raising his voice to speak over the rumbling engine he stood next to.

The sergeant returned the late salute, continuing to look at the tied up man. The devilkin was gagged, had his limbs bound, and was blindfolded on top of having been dosed with anesthetic before the M.E.R.C.s had picked him up. He was a bit battered and probably hadn’t been treated particularly well since being captured, but he was still holding on. The drab gray colors of the NCSDF’s urban camouflage nearly made the captive officer blend in with the metallic tones of the engine room, but his silvery-white hair and black horns made him stand out well enough, especially among the rest of the Seabrisket’s Divinist crew.

The soldier that the Holy Mercenaries were transporting was a highly valuable asset to the Divine Church, and Sergeant Stone was ready to go to extreme lengths to ensure that he was brought into their custody. While the rest of her squad would go along with the operation unquestioningly, the sergeant was very aware of just how much was riding on their successful delivery. The prisoner, Captain Steffanson, was a member of the Newland City Self Defense Force’s 4th Subterranean Division, and was part of a patrol group which had happened upon a monumental discovery. While hunting down some underground smugglers a squad under the captain’s command had found some long-buried ruins that held a large quantity of unidentified oldtech.

While the NCSDF had little interest in the ruins, they had a number of corporate bidders lining up to put in an offer on the location. Each of those corporations certainly had their own designs on the cache, but the Divine Church wanted it even more. Last night when Captain Steffanson was walking home alone he was arrested on trumped up charges by the Bergell sector’s private security force, and held in the station, at the request of one of the Church’s higher ups. In short, it was shady business as usual.

The chimera, however, wasn’t afraid to take on jobs with questionable morality; she'd left behind such qualms when she had joined the brigade ten years back. Along with that she truly believed that technology was the domain of the Divine faith, and Newland’s corporate scavengers were being presumptuous at best in taking ownership of the dig site. At worst it was nothing other than outright heresy.

The hatch to the engine room opened, and another one of the sergeant’s subordinates poked his head in. Private Mills looked up through the rumbling engine room at the sergeant, while giving a quick salute that ruffled his curly black hair.

��Hey ma’am, we’re almost at the docks but uh… there’s a bit of a complication up ahead. Corporal Accion sent me to get you.”

“Of fucking course there is,” Sergeant Stone said mostly to herself before closing the shutter to the engine compartment.

Striding to the prow of the Seabrisket the squad’s handler joined one of her two corporals, the huge android one. The chimera crossed her arms as she looked at the pair of NCSDF boats that were blockading the canal up ahead. None of the Holy Mercenaries had been able to see the cordon as they were sitting just around a curve in the high-walled, concrete canal. It was also too late to reverse, as the sudden retreat would look far too conspicuous to the waiting military personnel. A number of SDF marines were milling about the deck of a tugboat that was ahead of the mercenary’s own ship, idly poking around.

“Got a plan, ma’am?” asked Corporal Accion, glancing at the sergeant with his camera “eye” sidelong.

In a previous life Accion had been a labor android, and it showed. He stood well above Maisie’s decent height, and was at least twice as broad. He barely fit into the standard Holy Mercenary white coat, and opted to wear it tied around his waist, rather than shred the coat’s arms with his enormous synthmuscled limbs. Otherwise he wore gear usually utilized by the heavy androids United Zones Machine Corps, bleached white and gray, as few other articles of clothing could fit his hefty form. The construction of his head was simple, though he had added additional armor plating to it in the past. The plate that formed his “brow” sat directly above his single camera, giving him the appearance of a permanent look of consternation.

The sergeant scowled for a few moments. It was only natural that something like this would come up. She pushed her black and white hair behind her shoulder as a smile crept onto her face.

“It’s a bad one, but you better believe I do.”

***

The elevator dinged before the doors slid open. A devilkin and an android stepped out onto the fourteenth floor of the Power Motors Incorporated Illigan central headquarters. Before they could walk any further a PMI corpsec was trotting towards them.

“Hey hey, you two have your security badges ri-”

A staccato of noise came from the elevator as the squad of drones unleashed a quiet fusilade on the security officer from their suppressed SMGs. He was dead before he tumbled down to the laminate floor.

The android stepped over the man’s body, carefully avoiding the spreading pool of blood. With the distraction removed she mentally commanded her A-5 drones out of the elevator. Each one of them was humanoid, though less so than their android commander. While Ariadne had synthflesh to cover and aid her more mechanical components, the drones were skeletal, with boxy, forward-facing rectangular heads that made their mechanical nature evident. While no one could mistake the android for a human, her faceplate and general assembly were quite human, even if she did have four cameras.

Without turning, Ariadne noted that Karsyn, her devilkin ally, had stopped over the dead security officer. The android kept walking and watched through one of her drones as the devilkin ran her blade through the deadman’s chest. As she withdrew her lustrous silver blade it was coated in blood, which she quickly wiped off with a filthy rag attached to her belt.

She looked at the observing drone’s camera with her scarred face, “Making sure he’s dead. Some people have a nasty habit of getting up just when you think they’re dead.”

“Fine,” replied Ariadne through the drone’s vocoder, “Just don’t fall behind.”

The android continued deeper into the mostly empty floor, moving towards the server wall that held the files she had been sent to obtain. She only had a few scant minutes to get into position and start downloading the engine design files into the heavy duty data drive that she had brought along. The drive was the size of a large encyclopedia, and about as heavy. The device’s case was designed to keep any digital information within safe from bullets, blasts, and submersion, and it had cost a good few bullion.

The android cradled the drive in her arms, holding it against the plate carrier strapped to her lavender frame. She didn’t need to keep her hands free to order the drones under her mental control around, all of that was managed by the cybernetic systems that connected to her main processor and the radio control pack she carried on her back. In short she was bedecked in wires, after-market parts, and armor. Karsyn was also armored, though her chest piece looked more like some piece of metal forged in the depths of Hell, as it was a uniform charred black with Infernal sigils engraved across it. The plating, alongside her longsword and shrapnel-scarred face, made the devilkin appear like some warrior from the Age of Chaos, while Ariadne looked like the ultimate, cutting edge development in drone controlling.

Finally finding her quarry the android honed in on a particular server rack, and unspooled her hardwire line as she squatted down in front of the dense, humming stack of computers. Ariadne quickly identified the necessary ports and readied her connections, hooking herself and the datadrive up. Before wholly commiting to the hacking she sent two of her drones to move the dead body and prepared the other three to ambush anyone from the Power Motors company who happened along. Karsyn stalked between the server rows, getting rid of any remaining security staff and unlucky IT workers.

Once she had her mechanical servants in place the android opened her mental link to the server and began searching for the file. The jobs given to the rest of the team were more dangerous, to be sure, but the success or failure of the mission hinged on Ariadne finding the classified engine specifications and stealing the information. Everything else was just protection and set dressing.

Finding the file was none too hard. Decrypting it, though, would take time, and that had to be done before it could be copied onto the drive, which would also take a bit of time. Time that she hoped the other team would be able to provide with their “distraction”.

***

Chaplain Eckord prepared himself mentally for the inspection. The sergeant’s plan wasn’t great, but it would buy them a few seconds to get past the blockade. He did wish that Stone’s plans relied less on murder and brute force, though.

The android would have sighed if he had lungs. The tech-overseer had said that serving with the Holy Mercenary Brigades would be trying, but he didn’t mention that it would be trying him every single day of work with the brigade. For better or for worse he was saddled with this lot of mercenaries, and in doing so had become very familiar with performing last rites.

The sound of additional bootsteps on the Seabrisket’s deck, only audible as the engine slowed down to a light chug, indicated they had been boarded by the SDF soldiers. As he listened Eckord glanced at the captive officer he was sharing the engine room with. This man was simply a victim of circumstance, and a pawn in the church’s grander schemes. While Eckord did certainly believe that the oldtech the Self Defense Force captain knew about was the property of the church, he lacked the conviction that would lead him to capture and interrogate a person in this manner. The android did not imagine himself timid, but he hardly had the zeal and conviction Sergeant Stone could muster at the most difficult of times.

The stark white android recomposed himself, adjusting his admittedly ill-fitting robes and tried to keep track of what was happening outside of the cramped engine room. The young man across from Eckord, Private Theos, had been minding the prisoner alone before the chaplain had moved to the ship’s rear.

The actual fighters in the squad were preparing in the fore section of the ship, and Eckord preferred to keep his head down when the lead was about to start flying. No one really expected the android to use a weapon, either. He had originally been constructed as an accountant android, and while that station was many lifetimes ago, it still meant that he had a mind for numbers rather than violence. His vertically-oriented eyes were not ideally suited for using a weapon’s sights, or keeping aware in the middle of combat to boot.

There was talking outside. He couldn’t make out just what was being said, but he could certainly make out Sergeant Stone talking to some men. The private and the chaplain exchanged a look, neither one being overly sure of how things were going, and neither wanting to comment on the situation. The young man drew the machine pistol from his holster, but didn’t hold it at the ready. Neither Eckord nor Evan knew where a threat would come from, but having a gun in hand certainly soothed one’s nerves.

The armored door to the main crew compartment from the outside deck opened. More people moved around. Eckord and Private Theos looked towards the source of the sounds. The door closed quickly. There was a brief sound of struggle and fighting just beyond the door to the engine room. Some horrific crunching noises, a gurgle. And then it went quiet again.

The two Divinists in the engine room felt a wave of ease wash over them. The monitor would be underway in a moment, and its armor would shrug off the machine guns that the barricade would bring to bear. Now understaffed from the men that the M.E.R.C.s had slain, the patrol boats would be much less of a threat, and the getaway would be that much easier.

Then there were footsteps, and the hatch above Evan opened. He had forgotten to lock it after talking with the sergeant, and it seemed like one of the soldiers hadn’t gone inside the Seabrisket’s crew cabin. Eckord looked in surprise that turned to horror as he saw the SDF soldier looking down the hatch into the engine room. The android froze, utterly unsure of what to do.

The soldier grabbed his radio with one hand, his SMG pointing down into the room as he began talking quickly, “Priority one, priority one, this boat has a captive soldier. I think I’ve found the captai-”

The marine’s message was cut short by a burst of gunfire, which was answered in kind. The NCSDF soldier and the Holy Mercenary across from the chaplain both fell limp. The private’s unworn body armor fell off the bench he was sitting on as he fell forwards, now well beyond useless. Eckord leapt across the small room to grab Evan. The young mercenary was gushing blood from a dense cluster of gunshot wounds through his chest, staining his white coat red at an alarming pace. Eckord tried to stop the bleeding, but only coated his synthetic hands in the young man’s blood.

The door to the crew compartment flew open as Corporal Accion’s huge frame blocked the doorway for a moment. His single camera went wide as surveyed the situation.

“Medic! MEDIC! HELP EVAN NOW!” Accion bellowed, pulling back from the doorframe to let the team’s medic through.

“”We need to go! They know we have the captain now!” Eckord proclaimed, still clinging to the horrendously injured private.

A sudden rain of lead began as one of the patrol boats fired on the Seabrisket. The shells smashed into the monitor’s armor, but had little effect. The armor would hold, at least.

“Riley, get back there dammit! Schneider, get the engine into gear, we need to move!”

The engine roared to thunderous life as Eckord laid the private on the floor to let the medic go to work. Private Riley arrived, throwing a large, backpack sized medical kit onto the greasy deck of the engine room. The chaplain helped as best he could, following every instruction that Private Riley gave him.

Nothing worked. The extra blood, the biofoam, the sutures, all of it only prolonged the inevitable. The soldier’s burst of close-ranged fire had simply obliterated the boy’s heart, ripping his spine apart, and reducing his chest cavity to a heterogenous mixture of bone, organ meat, and blood. He was already dead before Private Riley began working on him.

Eckord bowed his head as watched another human life slip away before his optics. Riley seemed unable to let the death go, and he simply began sobbing, the tears streaming out of his eyes into his thick beard. The chaplain knew the pain of losing comrades and friends much younger than himself, and he would have shed tears at this point as well if he were physically capable of doing it.

Eckord began rehearsing the Final Rite of Shutdown over his young friend’s body.

“Almighty Machine-Lord, See you the end of this unit’s mortal service, And let him now reside in your heavenly domain hereafter. Let there be succor to those who survive him, that they too may know your love.”

Having intoned the prayer the chaplain pulled his blood-slicked hands apart from their praying position. He had done all he could for the deceased private, and it was all in the hand of the Machina thereafter. Eckord rose and withdrew to the crew compartment to inform the sergeant of Private Theos’ passing.

The crew compartment of the Seabrisket was cramped, and made only more so by the bodies of the murdered SDF soldiers lain against the rear wall. The cabin was filled with the rattling of machine guns as the Holy Mercenaries unleashed fire onto the NCSDF ship off the starboard side. It seemed that at least one of the patrol boats was keeping pace as the M.E.R.C.s broke the cordon. Keeping up with the monitor was no real feat, as the armor and weapons on the ship made its top speed well below a patrol boat’s limit.

Eckord barely kept his footing, as the motion of the moving boat, the rattle of gunfire, and the pangs of impacting rounds filled the bunker-like cabin. He moved towards the central, raised helmsman’s seat, in which sat Corporal Schneider, with Sergeant Stone holding on to the seat’s frame.

“Sergeant Stone, ma’am?” asked Eckord, loudly.

“What’s Private Theos’ status, chaplain?”

“D-deceased, ma’am.”

The chimera didn’t turn to face the android, rather she bowed her head for a moment before inhaling deeply like she always did. Eckord had seen Sergeant Stone given the news of her subordinates and comrades deaths at least a dozen times now, she never let it slow her down. The chaplain wasn’t sure if he should admire her composure or be worried about her being able to keep it at times like this.

“Fine,” she said eventually, through gritted teeth, “We have bigger problems right now. We’ve gotta ditch the SDF guys and get our prisoner to the drop off point.”

Eckord nodded. At the moment the sergeant’s focus helped him keep his mind on the mission. It wasn’t comforting, but moping in an active combat area was far less healthy than being focused on a goal.

“Shit!” proclaimed Schneider as surveyed the canal ahead.

The android and the chimera both looked over the dark-skinned, blonde human’s shoulders, through the armored slit that was the monitor’s front window. A massive, mechanical silhouette was wading into the canal a couple of blocks away. The machine was armored like a tank, but stood upright on two heavily armored legs. The body supported by the legs was hefty, almost shaped like a more conventional armored vehicle. It mounted a large cannon on one side of its chassis, supplemented by a pair of machine guns on the forefront “chin” of the vehicle, and a rack of rockets on the opposite side from the cannon. It, much like the patrol boat that had begun falling back from the Seabrisket, was adorned in the unmistakable blue and gold of the Newland City Self Defense Force.

“A fucking stand tank. Just our luck,” said Sergeant Stone from between gritted teeth.

#Ashlands RPG #M.E.R.C.s

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moonlight-cp · 2 years

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Proxy in Command (Creepypasta x Reader) Chapter 46

Series Masterlist

Zalgo sat on his throne as he smirked at the pastas who were standing in the throne room. His plan has worked and soon everyone will be killed including Slenderman. He couldn't wait to see their reactions when Y/N arrives to kill them. There was nothing they could do to stop them. He would finally win the war.

"Slenderman, I'm surprised to see you and your so-called army here. Although I have to admit, it took you long enough to figure out you could teleport here."

Slenderman stood in front while his pastas were behind him. "Enough with that Zalgo. We wish for you to give us Y/N back now that we know she's alive and had asked us for help."

"To be exact, Dark Link is the one who asked for support. That traitor used my wife's name to make sure you would arrive."

"W-Wife?" Toby asked.

"Y/N and I wedded just yesterday," Zalgo lied. "But we had to delay our honeymoon because I saw this exact vision. Trust me when I say, you don't want to see her because she's pissed off that our plans had to be changed."

"Y/N wouldn't do that!" Ben yelled. "I saw her a few days ago and she looked the same! She would never marry someone like you!"

Zalgo's smirk disappeared. "You witnessed how she protected me when you were about to fight me. If that doesn't convince you then I don't know what will."

"Geez, I don't know, maybe by seeing her you son of a bitch!" Puppeteer yelled out.

Zalgo grinned as he stood up. The pastas got their weapons out for a possible attack.

"Alright then, may I present to you all my beautiful wife!" Zalgo announced as he pointed at the doors with his hand. The pastas all turned around to see a horrible sight after the doors had opened.

Y/N was walking on the carpet with her gaze directed on Zalgo while Dark Link walked behind her. The pastas looked at her as if she was a different version. Her e/c eyes were now replaced with the same shade as Zalgo's. Her kind smile was now turned into a sinister one.

The pastas were speechless as they moved to the side to let her walk by. Toby, who was excited to see her, walked up to her. "Y/N!" He smiled as he tried to hug her.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled as she grabbed his arm and knocked him off his feet, twisting his arm in the process. She threw him to the ground before proceeding to walk up the stairs to the throne. Dark Link looked at him with sympathy seeing as he couldn't do anything.

Masky was the first one to help him stand up.

"Wh-what's wrong with h-her?"

"I don't know," Masky whispered before he glanced at Jeff who was looking at Toby. "But we're about to find out."

Zalgo raised her left hand and kissed it, making sure the ruby on her ring was angled where it shined in their view. Dark Link stood beside Zalgo on his right.

"Zalgo, you should have told me they already arrived so we could get this over with." She spoke out.

Zalgo chuckled as they both sat on their thrones. She leaned her head on his shoulder. He adored how powerful he felt now that she was with him.

"Darling, I warned them you weren't happy about delaying our honeymoon."

"You bet I'm not," she turned around to glare at them.

"She didn't look like this when I saw her!" Ben claimed to the others as he looked at her with horror.

"My eyes turned red as soon as I married Zalgo. I turned into the queen of the under realm after all." She informed them.

"But you insisted on joining us to the battle a few weeks ago. You tried to kill him!" Slenderman pointed out. "So what changed?"

"Zalgo told me the truth about everything while you kept lying. He treated me like a queen while you treated me as a slave for years! He told me about my ancestors unlike you who kept it hidden. It wasn't difficult to realize he was the one."

"Zalgo is the enemy!" He exclaimed.

"Is he?" She yelled as she stood up before grinning. "Tell them what you wanted to do with us once the battle was over."

Slenderman kept quiet as the attention was on him. The pastas looked at him, waiting patiently for an answer.

"What is she talking about?" Masky broke the silence.

"He wanted to kill us all after we killed Zalgo. He was just using us." Y/N answered for him as she sat down. "You even sent me on suicide missions. Isn't that right, Slenderman?"

"That's not true." He shook his head. "I wasn't going to kill you."

Zalgo butted in, "Slenderman, I can read your mind. It's no use in lying."

"N-No! H-He wouldn't do that!" Toby defended him. "H-He cares for us!" The others chimed in as they insisted Slenderman wouldn't do it.

Both Zalgo and Y/N smirked at the oblivious crowd. They both looked at each other before Zalgo grabbed her left hand and pressed a kiss on her wedding ring again.

"My king, I think they overstayed their visit, don't you think?" Y/N announced.

"I also agree, my queen. Will you do the honors in exterminating them?"

Y/N stood up as she grinned at the crowd. "This is the perfect wedding gift."

"Y/N please!" Liu yelled out. "This isn't you!"

"Come back to us, doll," Puppeteer begged her.

"I'll handle our dearest friend Slenderman while you and Dark handle the others." Zalgo held her cheeks as he pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips had barely touched when a knife was thrown at them. Y/N held the knife a couple of inches away from them in the air with her magic as they shared a tender kiss. They pulled back before Y/N death glared at Jeff.

"You're going to regret that," she warned him before throwing the knife back at him with an inhumane speed with her magic. Jeff had managed to dodge it. "Make sure to save some fun for me," she smiled at Zalgo as she went downstairs.

"Of course, I will, my love," Zalgo grinned as he walked toward Slenderman who was holding his silver dagger with rubies.

"I'll take Ben, if you want," Dark Link offered as he stood next to her.

She studied Ben who was on the side before nodding. "Be careful of his wires." She warned him as she walked towards the group that was backing away.

"Y/N, we don't want to hurt you!" E.J exclaimed.

"Here I was thinking you were afraid of me." She chuckled as fire appeared on her palms.

"Hey, you have powers! That's not fair!" L.J yelled.

"But I won whenever I fought you all individually despite whether you had powers or not. I think this is a fair game considering it is nine versus one not counting Ben." She smirked "You can just admit you know you stand no chance against me!" She threw a fireball at them with her right hand. The others were able to dodge it.

"Alright, that's it!" Jeff yelled as he charged toward her.

"Bring it on Jeffery!"

Jeff swung his knife at her but she teleported behind him in time. She kicked his back before turning her attention towards Liu who was about to attack her. Grabbing his wrist, she kicked him in the stomach with her knee. She threw him on top of Jeff before elbowing Masky in the face.

"Y/N, stop this!" He grunted as he tried dodging her attacks.

She ignored him as Hoodie was coming from behind her. She made Masky fall by kicking him in the legs before she focused on Hoodie. He kept trying to swing at her but failed. She punched him in the stomach, throwing him to the side.

She turned around as she heard footsteps on her other side. Helen was about to stab her but she grabbed his wrist in time. A shiny metal on the floor gleamed in the corner of her eye. Using her hand, she summoned the knife before stabbing Helen in the shoulder. Helen closed his eyes as he screamed in pain.

Their immortality was nonexistent in the underworld.

Y/N was about to stab him again until a string caught her wrist.

"Ugh, it's you," she groaned before kicking Helen to the side.

"Y/N, I don't want to fight you, but I won't stand here and watch you hurt the others." Puppeteer warned her.

"Suit yourself," she chuckled as she pulled the string with her hand and cut it with her other.

Puppeteer fell on his knees in pain as he let out more stings in an attempt to hold her. Y/N swiftly dodged them while she cut a few strings along the way. She teleported in front of Puppeteer before choking him with her hand.

E.J then teleported beside her and threw a punch at her face. Y/N grabbed her cheek before turning around to glare at him, still choking Puppeteer.

Meanwhile Ben and Dark had secretly exited from the throne room to the hallway, killing the guards once they were out.

"Dude what the fuck is wrong with her!" Ben exclaimed as he pointed behind him.

"I don't know! When I returned from my 'mission' Zalgo took her to her room and when I arrived, she was already turned!" Dark answered him.

"How do we reverse the spell?"

"Y/N told me you can't reverse it!" He recalled. "That's why she wanted Slenderman to hurry and prevent the spell from happening because Zalgo warned her she would kill you guys! She told me if she was turned, she wants us to kill her before she could hurt or possibly kill us."

Ben bit his lip in distress. His friend was hurting the others while there was nothing he could do to save her besides fighting her. "Yeah, there's no way we're doing that. What if we kill Zalgo?" He suggested.

Dark scoffed. "Are you joking? We're powerless against him. For now, we can just try to defend our friends. Let's hope Slenderman can kill him."

They both nodded before entering the throne room again. For once they weren't enemies, but allies with a shared goal.

Meanwhile, Zalgo kept throwing fireballs at Slenderman who kept dodging them. Zalgo kept teleporting to the side whenever Slenderman wanted to stab him.

"What did you actually do to her!" Slenderman exclaimed.

Zalgo hummed. "I only told her the truth, gave her a warm welcome, and treated her well. The opposite of what you did really."

"She would never betray me!"

Zalgo rolled his eyes. "This is why she left you, you have a big ego. You first believed you were the most powerful immortal, resulting in fearing her. It's safe to say you're becoming weaker, Slenderman, while I'm getting stronger."

"You're only using her, aren't you?" Slenderman lowered his dagger. "Because marrying her gave you more power. You're trying to change the future!"

Zalgo turned to look at her for a few seconds before returning his gaze to his enemy. "I must confess that was my intention at first, but it all changed one special night."

Slenderman glanced at Y/N, who had an arm wrapped by Puppeteer's strings.

"If we break the spell she becomes immune to your power, doesn't she?"

"The hell did you hear that from!" Zalgo growled. "She's not under my spell!"

"That has yet to be determined. I have faith the pastas will figure out a way to break it."

Zalgo chuckled. "The spell is unbreakable, old man. There is no way to bring her back."

"So she is under your spell?" Slenderman caught his lie.

Zalgo stood still before secretly hitting him with a fireball behind him. Slenderman fell to the ground as he felt his back was on fire.

"This is giving us déjà vu, isn't it, Slenderman?"

Y/N was trapped in E.J's chokehold until she stepped on his foot and stabbed him in the shoulder. Toby stood there twitching as he witnessed her attacking his friends. She ignored him knowing he wouldn't hurt her.

She turned around, surveying the area until her eyes spotted L.J who was hiding someone on his back. It wasn't hard to tell who it was based on the small legs and pink dress.

"Is that Sally?" She smiled evilly as she slowly walked toward them.

"Stay away from her," L.J warned her, using his body to shield Sally.

"I wasn't asking," she smirked.

Strings wrapped her wrists from behind while another set was wrapped around her ankles, causing her to fall to her knees.

She groaned in annoyance before turning around to glare at Puppeteer.

"What's the matter, doll?" He teased her as he walked in front of her. "Is this still kinky enough for you?"

She yelled in annoyance as she used her magic to break free from her retrains. Puppeteer fell in pain before being lifted in the air by Y/N with her magic.

"You're the annoying one so I'll give you the privilege of dying first!"

Wires were wrapped on her wrists again causing Puppeteer to fall to the ground.

She snapped her head towards Ben, who was standing in front of L.J. She glared at him as fire came out of her hands, causing the wires to burn. Ben made his wires disappear before they caught on fire. Dark Link stood by Ben, aiming his sword toward her.

"It's a shame you decided to betray us Dark Link because now I have to kill you too."

"Y/N, snap out of it! You were the one who told me to get them to prevent the spell from happening, remember? You deeply care about them!"

Y/N ignored him as her gaze was on L.J. The pastas got up and used themselves as shields to protect L.J and the girl.

"My patience is running thin." She whispered before raising her hands. The pastas all dropped their weapons as they were raised in the air, choking.

She glanced back at L.J, who was standing on the ground as she threw the pastas behind her.

"Let her death be the symbol of a new beginning."

She raised L.J in the air before turning her gaze to Sally. Once their eyes met, Y/N's smirk had disappeared.

"Sally," she whispered as her memories with the child flooded in. She couldn't believe she was about to kill the one she was bound to protect. As if she was in a trance, she didn't move her gaze away from her, causing one of her eyes to turn back E/C. She subconsciously dropped L.J down before she felt a stinging sensation on her stomach.

"Y/N!" She heard the child scream.

She slowly looked down and saw she had been stabbed with a knife. Her mouth was open as she tried to process what had happened.

Jeff realized too late what he had done. She was back to her usual self and he had just stabbed her.

"Y/N," he whispered as he stepped back, the knife still inside her stomach. "I-I didn't know you were-" he stopped as he saw the red blood coming out, something he had only seen with his victims. "Y-You're actually mortal?"

The proxies glanced at each other as they got reminded of the time Y/N took a bullet for Toby. She had almost died when that occurred.

Y/N ignored Jeff as she turned her attention towards Zalgo and Slenderman. Slenderman was on the floor on his knees, facing down.

Zalgo stood a few feet away from him as he was summoning a ball of energy in his hands.

"Don't worry, this is going to hurt," he yelled.

Y/N closed her eyes as a random memory flooded in.

The almost seven-year-old stood by the door as she watched the horrible sight outside of the mansion in the middle of the night. Zalgo had attacked Slenderman, his brothers, and Zen. Currently, Zalgo was aiming a ball of energy in his hand directly toward Slenderman.

Y/N widened her eyes as she realized what Zalgo was about to do. She had promised herself she would protect him no matter what.

It was the only way to prove herself to him.

She threw the door open and sprinted where Zalgo was. Zen who could barely lift himself, screamed at the top of his lungs, "Y/N no!"

"Don't worry, this is going to hurt," Zalgo chuckled before throwing the energy ball at Slenderman.

"No!" Y/N screamed, taking the hit for Slenderman.

"I swore to protect him," she whispered before she furrowed her eyebrows in anger. "To prove my loyalty."

With the remaining power she had left, she teleported in front of Slenderman. As Zalgo threw the ball, she attempted to throw another one out. Her power was completely gone, resulting in her getting the hit.

Slenderman was helpless on the floor as he stood there in shock. It took him a few seconds to realize history was repeating itself.

Sally tried to run towards her, but L.J carried her before she got the chance.

The pastas were horrified by the sight. Their friend laid lifeless on the floor with a knife still inside her stomach.

Slenderman was about to teleport to her but Zalgo beat him first. "Y/N!" He yelled as he inspected the wound.

Y/N paid no attention to him as she searched for Slenderman. Once she noticed him, she whispered, "Go, take Dark."

Slenderman nodded before teleporting to the others, using an independent tendril to grab each of the pastas including Dark Link.

"Remember that you're completely immune to his powers. They will no longer work on you. I'll be back for you."

A small smile formed on Y/N's lips not only because Dark was going to escape, but because the pastas were safe. Her eyes slowly closed as her head dropped to the side.

"YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS!" Zalgo fumed as he got up to form the biggest energy orb he had ever made.

Slenderman teleported away with the others before Zalgo's orb could hit them, resulting in the glass-stained windows shattering into pieces.

He tried to catch his breath before remembering Y/N's life was at stake. He got down at his knees to feel her weak pulse.

"I'm not letting you die, at least not now."

Series Masterlist---Next Chapter -> (Chapter 47)

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zydrateacademy · 3 months

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Current Activities in Gaming #229

So the Crimson Fleet in Starfield is actually very well worth doing on most playthroughs assuming you're not trying to burn through another run at Unity (main story skip or not). It rewards a whopping quarter-mil, regardless of what side you choose and near the corpse of an old pirate lord is a legendary named Magshear. Now legendary effects in this game seem to be fairly random across the board (not sure if that's an effect of mods or not), the first time I got it, it had a double clip. So 150 bullets on a Magshear is huge. An absolute beast of a weapon.

I want to try the Fleet again but as an actual criminal and I'm curious about how pissed the companions get. Or just make sure everyone is off my ship and goes home before doing that questline in its entirety.

The interesting thing I found about the Fleet is that it's basically significantly better at stealth design than Ryujin is. I know big games like this have a multitude of teams, so it's very clear there were different teams. In the Fleet, you have to literally wear disguises or you'll be stopped by NPCs. Multiple missions have you duck and weave, generally without even overtly going stealth mode, like you don't have to crouch around and stuff. But more like you just need to do the mission "correctly" and you undergo multiple full blown heists. An early one has you steal some kind of award trophy, in front of an NPC sitting at a chair. But if you dive behind her, pickpocket the key, you can open the door without her making a fuss. Like an actual stealth game. It... is a bit odd how she can basically just watch you pilfer that entire room. Glass wall and all. I think it is marked as stolen, the whole room, but not trespassing. So you do need to sneak but not like, the entire time.

I enjoyed it.

I also did the Rangers and I had an impression that it was YET ANOTHER "no-kill" ruleset but man they didn't give a FUCK. Right away I blast some mercenaries trying to take someone's farm and no shits were given. At the very end of the questline, turns out some very highly ranked asshole arranged the whole thing. It was either take his 20k offer (50k if you have the Negotiation perk) or fight. I was doing an ethical run at first so I refused and it led to combat, killed the guy, and was later congratulated for it. This is long after the Marshal told me to toe the line and be careful when speaking to him. There's even a moment late in the questline where you have a sit-down and they basically review all your actions up to that point. I was playing it pretty aggressively, blasting my way through mercs, and was extolled for it.

I'm not sure where that impression I had came from. But once again as long as you're not a braindead murderhobo and only shoot when you need to (even if you initiate [Attack] dialogs), you come out of that questline pretty clean.

For the Fleet, I know the commander has some words for you if you go in those missions and start blasting but if you end up betraying them anyway then who cares. I'm gonna try it on my current playthrough.

Not saying my current playthrough is my "last", but I will be holding off on Unity for a while. Got a bunch of mining outposts set up, will do a couple of the questlines off-camera and will eventually record for my Youtube... all the various side quests and odd jobs that pop up just by travelling around. Often NPC's you are sprinting by will mention "hey this guy's looking for some work" and a side quest or activity will pop up in your log. So that will be the subject of my later episodes.

I might not have much left to say after that point.

I'm visiting the nexus every day, because I'm always picking up Quality of Life stuff. I keep my eyes out for weapons and armor, which this game sorely needs to let loose in the coming modding tools. So much that's available is just reskins and recolors. A lot of replacers too. I don't want to replace all that much, I want to add onto what's there.

But at 140 hours I'm not in "cooldown" mode quite yet because there's still a bunch of side stuff I want to experience. But I'm getting there.

#Starfield #Bethesda #bethesda softworks #gaming #pc gaming

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justinewt · 2 years

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Out of the Ashes, Into the Fire - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Sixteen

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Finn's actions had sown discord in Camp Jaha, not only among the people of the Ark, who didn't want to risk their lives for him and because of him but also between Michelle and Clarke whose opinions of him clashed, straining their close sisters-lilke relationship... and Michelle found solace and support in someone she never thought she would become so infatuated with one day, and her relationship with Murphy was also disapproved of by Clarke, which certainly didn't help strenghtening their bond.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: The 100 season 2 spoilers (episode 8 “Spacewalker”), arguments, Finn being the dumb motherfucker he is and Raven is pissing me off I swear, angst, guns, blood, death, grief, little fluff, public execution

It had been a moment since Clarke left Camp Jaha to go and meet with the commander and the Grounders. Everyone was a little tensed, waiting for her return but what most of them were really waiting for was to know if they were going to be killed by the Grounders, like their Commander threatened when Jaha turned up to camp when everyone thought he was dead already. Michelle was anxious for her best friend and sister to come back safe and sound, and when the camp’s guards, including Belamy and Michelle herself though she didn’t have a gun as she wasn’t a member of the guard, saw figures move in the fog of the night, approaching the main gate and holding up flaming torches, they raised their weapons, narrowing their eyes trying to determine who it was. After a second, Bellamy and Michelle saw Clarke, walking in between a couple of Grounders mounted on horses. The two looked at each other, and he lowered his gun.

“Hold your fire. She’s back.” He spoke. They powered up the gate and opened the gate. Michelle took a step forward, to go meet her first but when she saw Finn jogging towards her, she clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes with a silent sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Shut the gate.” Clarke instructed and while a guard closed it behind her, she dragged Finn away with her and Michelle just stood there next to Bellamy, glancing at the two quite scary-looking Grounders stil outside the camp. She eventually walked away, followed by Bellamy, catching up with Finn and Clarke who were met by Abby. She hugged her daughter. A crowd gathered around them as everyone was curious upon seeing Clarke return. Raven arrived as well.

“What did she say?” Abby inquired. “Is there a chance for a truce?”

“Yes.” She said faintly and Finn and Michelle started at her, both noticing that something else was on her mind.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and she slowly turned her face to him, preoccupied.

“They want you. If we want a truce, we have to give them Finn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Raven obviously didn’t want to believe this, and Michelle looked away, annoyed that she was still acting like her dear boyfriend didn’t actually slaughter an entire Grounder village for nothing, but she just bit her lips and kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to start a fight just now but if Raven kept getting her nerves, she wouldn’t be so quiet.

“That’s their offer.”

“That’s not an offer. It’s a punishment.”

“For what happened at the village.” Finn put two and two together. Michelle shot up her eyebrows; Finn was getting on her nerves too. “Blood for blood.”

“That’s insane.”

“Not as much as what happened to the village.” Michelle spoke, granting her a look from literally all five of them, with Raven giving her a death stare but she just held her gaze. She wasn’t scared of Raven and didn’t really care if she was hurting her feelings. She wasn’t completely crazy for thinking he deserved some kind of punishment for such gruesome wanton killings. Abby turned her face back to her daughter.

“If we refuse…”

“They attack.” Clarke declared.

“I say we give him up.” Someone yelled in the crowd, and others agreed, saying to get rid of him. The people had no desire to get into a war with the Grounder that would result in them being butchered by said Grounder.

“Give him to the Grounders.” A man threateningly approached the group in the middle of the crowd while Officer Byrne tried to calm everyone down.

“Back off.” Raven strongly pushed him away, protecting Finn and Michelle stepped back, watching Bellamy and Clarke intervened, separating the two.

“Raven, listen to me.” Clarke tried to get her to focus on her. “Nothing is gonna happen to him. I promise, okay?”

“I’m not dying for him.” Another chimed in, infuriated. “Spacewalker burned three months of oxygen from The Ark. He should’ve floated a long time ago. Throw him out.” Raven almost jumped at him, punching him hard in the face. Byrne put her hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stop and she received a punch as well. Michelle crossed her arms, not intervening in any way and she observed two camp guards getting a hold of Raven, grabbing her arms and dragging her away while she struggled. Everyone was shouting, angry and enraged and this girl didn’t want to even understand the seriousness of what Finn had done, continuously treating him like a victim, as if he didn’t lose it and murdered around a dozen people. Finn went to isolate himself behind the Ark’s ring and Bellamy, Michelle and Clarke went to find him, seeing Murphy seated next to him.

“Hey.” Bellamy greeted Finn. “We’re reinforcing our defenses. Doubles on the perimeter. No one’s getting past that wire.”

“I’ll where they’re thin.” Finn said, standing up. Michelle looked at them before glancing around, listening to the conversation. She didn’t want to say something and get into a fight with Clarke; that was what she was trying to avoid, because she didn’t care to have anyone else mad at her but as of late, she found herself disagreeing a lot more with whom she would have once stood up for no matter what could happen and she still would, but she didn't support how badly they all wanted to protect a crazy murderer. She wasn't a huge fan of Finn's before, but after what happened, she clearly didn't trust him at all and would certainly never defend him.

“You should head inside. B Corridor would be easier to defend, if it comes to that.”

“I’m not gonna hide.”

“Right now, we have to think about keeping you safe. I’m going to talk to Lincoln.” Clarke stated.

“Come on. Finn.” Bellamy urged him to come with him and the latter eventually gave in, reluctantly following him. As Clarke was about to tag along, Murphy stood up and addressed her.

“Hey. Any orders for me, princess?”

“Stay away from me.” She shrugged with a straight face.

“I was just trying to be helpful.” He added softly.

“You were with him at the village.”

“I tried to stop him.”

“Not hard enough.” Michelle frowned, staring at Clarke as she took a few steps away and Murphy rose his voice sightly.

“You know what? You wanna start blaming people, Clarke? He was out there looking for you.” She very briefly stopped in her tracks, listening before leaving without even a gance at Michelle and the latter lightly shook her head in disbelief. She felt a rift was growing between her and Clarke, putting a distance between the two of them, all because of what happened with Finn and the fact that their opinions diverged. Clarke wanted to keep him safe from any harm and Michelle didn't value his life as much, thinking that the Grounder deserved whatever revenged they asked for. And she was saddened by it. She had never thought she and the one she grew up with, who was her best friend and like her sister, woud be opposed on something like this. And meanwhile, everyone was blaming Murphy, because it was so easy to just take someone you don't like and make a scapegoat out of them but now everyone thought the same. They weren't going to fight for Finn.

“I just wish Finn would give himself up already.” Michelle groaned, taking a small turn and sitting down, her arms clutched to one another, and she slumped against the station wall, staring into space. Murphy slowly joined her and sat beside her, leaning on his kness, the weapon he had been given in his hand. “And they’re acting like because you couldn’t stop him, you’re worse than him? I mean, come on. How can they be acting like Finn is to be protected at all costs? Anyway, if they think they can protect him forever, they’re fooling themselves.”

“Well, I couldn’t agree more.”

“I never thought I’d be at loggerheads with Clarke one day.”

“You’ll be besties again, don’t worry.” He teased her and she rolled her eyes with a smirk, giving him a fake laugh.

“You know,” She straightened up, turning to Murphy. “she said that, you see, she thinks you’re rubbing off on me, and she doesn’t like that very much apparently.”

“She said that?” He seemed amused and Michelle continued, letting out a chuckle.

“Yeah. You’re a bad influence on me, John Murphy.” They both sketched a cheeky smile and laughed at the whole situation. Michelle definitely appreciated to have someone like Murphy by her side, whom she could just talk about everything with and without restraint and he wouldn’t criticize her unlike some. She woud never have thought that she would feel closer to Murphy than to Clarke, ever.

The next day, Michelle was walking around the camp. Byrne had given her a machine gun too as she was a good shooter and apparently, they needed anyone that could help in case of an attack from the Grounder. She didn’t really know what to do though, because she didn’t talk to Clarke since last night and she stayed with Murphy the whole time afterwards. He seemed to be the only to really get her lately. She dwelled on her thoughts, walking in circles just looking around until she was bored of doing nothing and the stitched arrow wound on her thigh hurting a little made her stop and sit down, the strap of the gun hanging from her shoulder, she stared into the void. As always, her mind lingered on subjects, she would rather not think of at all but here she was, thinking of Kane. She understood now that he was her father, but she had a hard time realizing it, she had in mind that if it was her father she should have as close a relationship with him as she had with her mother, and he still seemed like a stranger to her, just councilman Kane who had her locked up a year ago and whom she despised. And because she wasn’t running around camp with Clarke, she felt like Murphy must have felt for so long, like she was being put to the side and somewhat ignored. From where she was seated, she could see all the guards standing by the Ark station’s front door and taking cover near the main gate and she stayed there, looking from afar. She straightened up, frowning in confusion, when she saw Abby, followed by Bellamy and Clarke walking up to the gate. The gate was opened, and Michelle decided to approach but didn’t come as near as to stand by Bellamy and Clarke’s side.

“Where’s the boy?” The Grounder inquired. They had stayed right in front of the camp’s gate all night long.

“We are not giving him up. We’re ready to fight, if that’s what it comes to.” Abby declared, and Michelle rolled her eyes. Clarke glanced at her, and she held her gaze and only looked away when a horn blew in the distance and the Grounders rode away.

“Watch the woods. Watch for movement.” Bellamy ordered as they left. Michelle was even more confused and rose her arm, looking through the rifle scope to look around the woods and when this familiar voice rose, she parted her lips in surprise, lowering the gun and staring straight ahead, taking a few steps forward. She remembered wondering where he had gone a few days ago and there he was. Kane crossed the edge of the forest and marched toward camp, yelling at the guards not to shoot. She found herself a little unsettled when she thought of him as “dad” but just shook it off. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself and not seem too affected by his return, keeping a straight face as she looked at him. She ignored the glance Clarke gave her, not taking her eyes off the two adults at the gate. Now, her best friend knew who he was supposed to be to her.

“You can’t be out in the open.” Bellamy said, walking up to Abby and Kane, along with Clarke. “We need to get somewhere safe.”

“It’s safe, for the moment.” He gave them a reassuring smile and as they walked in the camp, he noticed Michelle and as she simply walked away, turning her back to him, he let his smile fade for a second and both Clarke and Bellamy couldn’t help but look at her quickly, except that only Clarke knew what was up. With all that was going on, Michelle really just needed to isolate a little for the moment. When Murphy ran into her and told her Raven had asked her to join them at the dropship where they were smuggling Finn the dropship where they were bringing Finn after sneaking him out of camp to take him away from the Grounders. Michelle therefore left camp with him and walked through the forest. She had a gun as well, but she obviously didn’t come to protect Finn as she didn’t care much about him. She came because Murphy asked her to and because Clarke would be there, and she wanted to try and maybe make it less awkward but really, she came mainly because of and for Murphy and she would rather be far away from Kane than stay in camp.

“Are you going to talk to Kane?”

“No. I don’t care that he’s my father, he’ll never feel like it to me.” She replied bitterly, looking around them as they approached the dropship’s site. They walked across the burned Groundes’s bodies decaying on the floor, among the leaves and when they entered the dropship, they were welcomed by Bellamy’s gun aiming at them. Raven frowned when she saw Michelle accompanying Murphy. The latter raised his hands at Bellamy holding them at gun point.

“Murphy. Michelle.” He lowered his gun, confused as to why they were here. “What are you two doing here?”

“I believe I was invited.”

“I thought we could use an extra gun.” Raven told Bellamy, and she then stared at Michelle.

“Might be a good idea.” Bellamy agreed.

“But I never asked her to come.” The tone of her voice showed how disepleased she was to see her here with them.

“Hey, I told her to come. You need an extra gun? She’s a better shooter than I am so here she is.”

“And I'm not just gonna kill Finn because I don't like him, I'm bored so I'm gonna help you.” She wasn’t bored at all actually, but none of needed to know of the inner struggle she was put through by the news of who her father was and her and Clarke drifting away from each other because of the whole Finn situation.

“Finn should’ve been right behind you.” Raven then observed as Murphy and Michelle walked past Bellamy and her.

“Don’t worry. The spacewalker’s gonna be fine.” Murphy retorted. About a minute later, Finn barged in, carrying a passed-out Clarke in his arms. Both Michelle and Bellamy rushed towards them.

“What happened?” Bellamy inquired.

“A Grounder hit her on the head.”

“Put her here.” Murphy put a soft bag for her head and Finn settled her on the floor carefully.

“I need a, uh, bandage, a wrap, anything.” Bellamy kneeled next to Clarke and Murphy looked around the room and found what he was asking for.

“Here.” He handed it to him. Michelle kneeled in turn, worried for her childhood best friend. Clarke had the side of her head covered in blood.

“Hold her head.” Michelle obliged and put her hands beneath her head, slightly lifting it from the bag she was resting on. He tried to call out to her, but she remained unresponsive for a short moment, until her eyes blinked. Murphy placed a gentle hand on Michelle’s shoulder and he and Bellamy attempted to reassure her as she was visibly worried and upset about her closest friend being in that state and she just nodded. She would get better, it was just a hit on the head with some blood but especially right now, when their relationship wasn’t at its best, it was even more disquieting for her. She just wished Clarke never got so infatuated with Finn in the first place and right now she wouldn’t be actively fighting to protect him from the Grounders’s wrath, when he was totally at fault and desired to be punished by the people he wronged so deeply. Michelle was even more annoyed with him because he played it out like he was the victim and certainly didn’t care that Murphy was taking all the blame for it. They all raised their heads when Finn stormed out of the dropship, saying that he got her killed. He didn’t because she was still very much breathing, but it was time he blamed himself for something that was totally his fault.

“I’ll watch her, you can go stand guard outside.” Raven’s tone of voice was soft as she addressed Bellamy, Michelle and Murphy caring for Clarke. The young woman was reluctant to leave her best friend’s side but ultimately, they were at better odds if the three shooters were guarding outside and she knew Raven would indeed watch and care for her, they weren’t friends themselves, but she seemed to appreciate Clarke and vice versa. The three walked outside the dropship and Finn went back inside after a brief moment pouting. Bellamy went to one side and Michelle and Murphy went the opposite, trying to cover as much ground as possible, remaining on the former camp’s grounds.

“Do you think I should go and talk to him?” Michelle asked, thoughtful as she carefully watched the surroundings like a hawk. Murphy glanced at her, raising his eyebrows at the question and shrugged.

“Do you want to give him a shot at being your dad?”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” She sighed.

“Hey.” He turned to her, and she stopped in her tracks, facing him. “I’m not a genius but if you’re thinking about it so hard, maybe you want to give him a chance. You lost your mom. You’ve got only one parent left.”

“He used to be such a douchebag though. I’ve always hated him.”

“Maybe try talking about to Abby, and then to him, and see where it goes. You got to try to know if it’ll work or not.” She looked up at the sky, exhaling heavily. In not even two months yet, she had been sent to her death -along other teenagers- to the ground, she lost her mom tragically, she lashed out at Kane, blaming him for it, some boy got her and her childhood best friend to grow distant and she found out Kane was the father her mom never wanted to tell her about. She was just 18 years old and was kind of overwhelmed by everything she had to deal with. They circled around the dropship and noticed movements in the distance and his behind two large, burned tree trunks in the front of the dropship.

“We got company. Get out here.” Bellamy yelled at the three inside the dropship. Finn was the first one to step outside, followed by Clarke, who Michelle was glad to see standing and walking, seemingly well but she didn’t look at her for long, feeling awkward. “Hey, get down. Grounders.”

They found themselves surrounded by Grounders in a place they thought they could hide Finn and eventually had to fell back inside the dropship instead of staying in cover outside. Murphy and Bellamy both stood near the drapes covering the entrance and peeked outside.

“They’re not moving any closer.” Murphy observed.

“They’re staying out of range. They’ll be waiting until it’s dark.” Bellamy said, stepping away, looking at the others.

“If we hit them now, we take them by surprise.”

“We don’t even know how many of them are there.” Clarke retorted to Murphy.

“I’m not hearing any better ideas, Clarke.”

“We’ll give them something.” Raven figured, looking into the void, thinking.

“All they want is Finn.” Bellamy spoke.

“Finn wasn’t the only one at the village.” She declared and, looking at her with straight faces, Michelle and Murphy both started to feel that something was off. He frowned, speaking up.

“Whoa. Raven, I came here to protect him. You were the one who wanted me to come. You—” She stared at him as he connected the dots not even trying to hide the fact that she only wanted him to come in case the Grounders came so she could give him off to them and keep a little boyfriend, who wasn't even actually her boyfriend anymore, safe. Murphy glanced at Finn and then back at Raven, smirking. “That’s why you asked me to come along?”

“Enough Grounders saw him. They’d believe he was the shooter.”

“You sick bitch.”

“Fuck you.” Michelle vehemently spats at Raven, almost stepping towards her to push her against the wall, but she chose to hold herself back because she had a paralized leg and she didn’t want to be responsible for any more damage. She clenched her jaw and fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hands.

“Raven, you don’t mean this.” Clarke shook her head.

“You know what they do to people.”

“They want a murderer. We’ll give them one. Drop your gun.” As she aimed her gun, Michelle was about to instantly aim back at her with hers, but she watched Murphy walk up to her, staring into her eyes, with loathing. Michelle brought her gun to her shoulder anyway and standing by Murphy’s side, she held Raven at gun point and would remain in that position until she put down her gun. She was done with Raven’s bullshit.

“Put it down, Raven. Like it or not, he’s one of us.” Clarke insisted on trying to make her change her mind.

“I said, drop it.” She meancingly stepped forward, almost getting the gun right against Murphy’s chest when Finn intervened and forced her to put down her gun and stood in front of her, distancing her from Murphy. Michelle let out a heavy sigh and put down her gun in turn, glaring at her. Murphy stepped back, and Michelle glanced at him, her gaze going from a death stare to a softer expression. “We’re not doing this. They’s ve got us surrounded. The only thing we can do… is stay and defend this place.”

“I’m with you.” Bellamy nodded, imitated by Clarke and as Finn went to look at Raven, she nodded as well. He then turned his face to Murphy and Michelle.

“Michelle? Murphy?”

“Yeah?” He replied bitterly, biting his lips, keeping it together in front of the others but Michelle noticed he had teary eyes, and he wasn’t only angry and frustrated with Raven, he was also hurt that she though of using him for her own gain and Michelle really just wanted to beat the shit out of her, but she controlled herself.

“Go upstairs, watch the rear.” Murphy quietly nodded, looking down. “I’ll take the lower level. You three, take the front gate. That’s the plan, all right?”

“Clarke.” The latter looked at Michelle when she called out to her as she walked past, following Murphy up the ladder. “I hope you’re having fun with your new best friends.”

“Michelle… wait. Please.” The latter ignored her and disappeared through the hatch, joining Murphy upstairs. She somewhat regretted this little passive-aggressive comment she made but she was so worked up by what Raven had tried to do, having literally no consideration for Murphy. Even Bellamy and Clarke who didn’t like him very much, never pulled something like that.

“Hey, John… You okay?” She asked softly, coming up behind him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and he sighed, his lips sucked into his mouth as he looked out the whole he blew when he escaped the dropship a month ago and he very swiftly brought his hand to his face to wipe his eyes and nodded, clearing his throat.

“Yeah. Living the dream.” He said sarcastically. Michelle then drew him into a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his face on her shoulder. She was practically the same height as him, so he didn’t have to bent over. They remained in that position for a while instead of watching the rear as requested until they heard Finn climb up the ladder and join them on the upper floor. They let go of each other, breaking the embrace and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve thought about it. I have to surrender myself to the Grounders.”

“Glad you’ve finally come to your senses.” Michelle retorted and he glanced down, almost looking ashamed and regretful. They then helped him out through the hole in the wall and watched him discreetly walk to the front of the dropship, going around it. It didn’t take long to heard someone scream his name when he was taken by the Grounders; and the voice was Clarke’s.

Night had fallen, everyone was gathered outside the gates of Camp Jaha, watching in the distance with apprehension as the Grounders prepared for Finn's upcoming execution, hundreds of torches lit like flaming stars on the ground, thousands of those Grounders swarming in the tents set up around a log he was setting up just in front of them, so that he could watch their friend die. Well, not everyone’s friend. Michelle was in the middle of the crowd, standing close to Murphy, a little further away from Clarke, Raven, Bellamy, Abby and Kane standing at the front line but she could see him and when she saw the two young women step away with Bellamy, she frowned, wondering what they were going to try now. They certainly couldn’t get him out of this mess, it was too late, and Clarke wasn’t stupid enough to try something so reckless and get herself killed in the process, even for Finn. Sher instinctively made her way through the crowd, getting closer the enclosure barbed wire fence, finding herself next to Abby and Kane and she watched Clarke walk through the Grounders, her mouth opened, frowning.

“What is she doing?” She anxiously asked to herself but spoke outloud. She twitched slightly when she felt a hand and looked up at Kane as he gently squeezed her shoulder, trying to reassure her. For some reason, she didn’t push him away and it brought a little comfort as she watched Clarke far off, with bated breath. A moment later, Finn was brought by a few Grounders to meet his end and he was tied to the wooden pole they put up and after talking to the commander, the blonde slowly walked to Finn, kissed him and hugged him tightly for a long minute, probably speaking to him. When she stepped away, Finn’s head fell forward and his t-shirt was entirely soaked in blood. The Grounders were stopped by the commander from attacking Clarke and in Camp Jaha, Raven let out a gut-wrenching scream at the sight of Finn’s dead body, caught by Bellamy as she fell to her knees, crying her eyes out. Despite the distance, Michelle could tell Clarke was crying too but now, she was kind of relieved, with Finn gone, she could maybe try to patch things up with Clarke and get her sister and best friend back. She wouldn’t be the same but of course, none of them had been the same since they landed to the ground and had to fight for survival on their own. Being at risk of dying literally everyday transformed them all, and the fact that they were almost still children and they had to grow in these circumstances, didn’t make it any easier for any of them.

[To be continued…]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Published (10/14/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @kika64

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gauntsghostsfieldguide · 2 years

Text

The Warmaster- Part 9

Twelve: A Place Of Safety

"A man like him, a mine worker from the skirtlands of the superhive, seldom had reason or permission to visit such a commanding vantage. But he remembered the view well. His wife had loved it. When they had first been together, he had sometimes saved up bonus pay to afford a pass to the Panorama Walk, as a treat for her." That's sweet. And nice that people could get passes, even if they were expensive.

"Ten whole years since the voice had told him he was a conduit for daemons, and that he had to fetch the eagle stones or his child would perish." Clearly good things are ahead for Gol Kolea.

Oh hey, the shipmaster survived, somehow.

"Sar Af glanced at him briefly, then finished instructing the servitor teams handling the equipment crates of the Adeptus Astartes. There was no sign in the hold of Eadwine or Holofurnace." He's been left to deal with their luggage, apparently.

"The White Scar nodded. With a twist, he uncoupled the lock of his right gauntlet and pulled the glove off to expose his bare hand." Man, he's a really nice guy. Especially for a Space Marine.

"You can show me the paperwork all you like,’ said Rawne, ‘S Company isn’t handing him over until I get word from my commanding officer.’

‘Your tone is borderline insolent, major,’ said Interrogator Sindre of the Ordo Hereticus. A heavy detail of Urdeshi storm troops filled the brig hatchway behind him.

‘Not for him,’ Varl told the interrogator. ‘There was definitely a silent “fething” before the word “paperwork”.’" Yeah, that's pretty polite for Rawne. He's usually meaner.

"Gaunt didn’t signal anyone that the prisoner was still with us,’ said Rawne. He spoke slowly and sounded reasonable. His men knew that was always a warning sign. ‘I know for a fact,’ he said, ‘that the information he broadcast on approach in-system was extremely limited and contained no confidential information.’" Yeah, he's pissed.

"‘Oh, but they are,’ said Varl. ‘He’s no use any more. He’s done what he was supposed to do. They won’t let him live, not a thing like him. They’ll burn him.’" Varl is right, though he's saying it in his usual bordering on disobedient way. Lucky he doesn't get killed.

"Varl had gone into the etogaur’s cell and reappeared holding a sheaf of cheap, tatty pamphlets and chapbooks." Oh, Varl, you're so nice about him.

GDI, now I ship Varl and Mabbon.

"She possessed the sort of attenuated, sculptural beauty he imagined of the fabled aeldari." The Eldar are fabled now? (I assume that's who they're talking about.)

"The entire upper part of her head that had been facing away from them was gone, from the philtrum up, replaced by intricate silver and gold augmetics, fashioned like some master-crafted weapon." Well, that's weird.

"‘Which last war?’ he asked, unhelpfully. He glanced at her. ‘Urdesh has been at war for decades. Conquest, occupation, liberation, reconquest. The whole system, contested since forever. One war followed by another, followed by another.’" Something something, always war.

"‘From time to time,’ the man nodded. ‘The Archenemy is everywhere. Not so much here these days. The main fighting is in the south and the east. Those are whole different kinds of kill-zones. But the enemy sneaks in sometimes. Insurgents, suicide packs, infiltration units, sometimes bastards who have laid low in the bomb-wastes or the sewers since the last occupation. They like to cause trouble.’" That's very paranoia inducing.

#gaunt's ghosts #wh40k #warhammer40k #the warmaster

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Note

what about doing a steve x reader? maybe where the reader gets hurt during a mission by hydra?? just an idea!! xx

He’s Like a Brother to Me

Summary: Pretending to be a couple for a mission is normal, so why is your Captain so upset?

Warnings: being injured on a mission, kissing, a swear word or two

Word Count: 2202

a/n: My first request!! To the anon that requested this, thank you! I hope you like it :) Sorry if it's not angsty enough! I really tried, but once I got this idea in my head I ran with it.

Also! I didn't do my normal tag list since y'all requested to be tagged when I was only writing Criminal Minds fics. Just lmk if you want to be tagged in marvel or CM or both!

"The mission is simple. You two will go to the gala as newly weds, pretend to be interested in more than the charitable events of the evening, figure out the chain of command for the weapons dealing, and put a stop to the weapons dealing assholes." Tony laid out the plan as if nothing could go wrong.

You turned to the super soldier on your left, relieved to find a matching grimace on his face.

"We have to pretend to be a couple?" You asked, turning back to Tony.

"Yes. The invites we secured are for Mr. and Mrs. Farley, so you two will be Mr. and Mrs. Farley for the evening. Any other questions?" Before you could chime in with the 17 questions in your head, Tony kept talking. "I didn't think so. Your clothes have already been dropped off to your rooms, so get ready. You'll have Rogers and Wilson doing surveillance in case anything goes wrong." Without another word, Tony forced you and Bucky out of the room.

"I guess I'll see in an hour, husband." You tried to joke, but your smile didn't meet your eyes.

"Same to you, wife." Bucky's face held a similar expression as you both turned your separate ways to get ready for the gala, trying to put the awkwardness behind you.

You and Bucky have been incredibly close ever since he first came back from Wakanda. You became fast friends since you are both so close with Steve.

It was easier for Bucky to open up to you than he anticipated, and in part it's because you remind him of his sister. Similarly, Bucky is like the older brother you never had. The two of you mesh, in the most platonic of ways.

He is there to tease you about your not-so-secret crush on Steve, and your there to help Sam come up with more annoying nicknames (starBucks being one of your favorite to date).

When it comes down to it though, you look out for each other. Of course, that won't make pretending to be a couple any less awkward.

You and Bucky enter the gala just after 8:00 pm. The large hotel ballroom is lit up by three enormous chandeliers, spaced throughout the room, with small sconces lining the outside walls. There are round tables around the outside of the room, framing a large open space for dancing.

People are mingling in small groups scattered throughout the room, waitstaff wondering around the room in precise lines to ensure anyone who wants a drink has access to one.

With a deep breath, you link your arm with Bucky's, laughing at the surprised look on his face.

"We have to at least try to sell it." You whispered in his ear, trying to play it off as a cute couple-y thing. "Even if we'd both rather be anywhere else." That comment earned a laugh, easing the tension from his shoulders.

Steve's voice in your ears refocuses you on the mission. "We just got video feed from the security cameras, so we have eyes on you now." You would have sworn you could hear an unfamiliar strain in Steve's voice as he spoke, but you chalked it up to just being nervous for the mission. "Try to mingle, figure out who's in charge."

Mingling was easier said than done. Every time the two of you tried to talk to anyone, the conversation was awkward and tense. You just didn't know how to answer questions about falling in love with each other. Ultimately, you decided eavesdropping was your best bet. Bucky pulled you to the dance floor, whispering in your ear as he held you, "dancing is the perfect cover for moving around the room."

You nodded your head in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What are you doing? I said to mingle, not dance." Steve's voice in your ears surprised you. Normally, he'd stay quiet unless he received intel that could help with the mission or noticed something for you to look into.

"We're listening to other conversations, relax punk." Bucky's voice was light as he spun you around, closer to the most suspicious people you've found thus far.

"What time is it happening?" The woman seemed nervous as she checked her watch.

"A few minutes. Relax, we'll meet them down the hall at 8:45." The man was calm and collected as he took her hand, leading her across the dance floor and out of the room.

"Guess that's our cue." You stated the obvious as you and Bucky went to follow them out of the ballroom. The couple turned down a side hallway, pulled out a key card, and entered a room, about halfway down.

You and Bucky made quick work to reach the room, pausing outside to listen in. You heard the couple, along with an unfamiliar voice.

"Do you have them?" The unfamiliar voice asked.

"We do. They're hidden in another room down the hall." the woman again sounded nervous.

"You" the unfamiliar voice must have pointed at someone, "go get them. Your wife will stay here to keep me company. Make it quick, Hydra has more important things to do."

Yours and Bucky's eyes went wide at the mention of Hydra. This mission wasn't supposed to have anything to do with them. Before you could react, footsteps could be heard coming toward the door. You had a few seconds max to figure out a way to hide.

With no other options in sight, you pulled Bucky across the hallway into the world's most awkward kiss. When the door swung open, you pretended not to notice, too lost in your "relationship" to care.

The man you saw earlier walked a few doors down before entering another room. You pulled back from Bucky, wincing slightly at the expression on his face. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't think of anything else to do to make it look like we weren't listening..." You trailed off.

"No, no it's fine. It was the only option." Bucky cleared his throat, still slightly dazed and very thrown off.

"Could the two of you stop staring at each other and get back to work?' Steve's voice was again present in your ears, and this time he was definitely angry.

"Right! Right, of course. Let's go." You awkwardly pushed off the wall, moving down the hallway to the room you saw the man enter. On the count of three, you burst into the room together. It was easy enough to over power the lone man in the room, but you and Bucky were still a little shaken up after the kiss. You handcuffed him to the bedpost, taking the key card he used earlier and moving back down the hallway.

After a brief, awkward eye contact, Bucky opened the door with you rushing in behind him. The only two people in the room were the two you heard earlier, making for a fairly easy take down.

"Cap, we got 'em. Two in room 217 and one in room 223." You started to fill him and Sam in, unsure if they still had eyes on you. At that exact moment, three more Hydra agents ran in from an adjoining room, catching you off guard.

You yelped when the gun went off, surprised at the sudden noise after thinking the mission was over. You and Bucky managed to take down the three agents without much more difficulty.

"Scratch that Cap, five in room 217." You again began filling him in, but the room started spinning. Your voice was wavering when you collapsed, the last thing you heard a mixture of Steve's voice in your ear and Bucky's in person calling your name.

"Y/N!" Then everything faded to black.

"What the hell happened in there?" Steve and Bucky were standing just outside of the med bay. After you collapsed, Bucky realized you had been shot in the stomach. While other Shield agents came to collect the men you had stopped, Bucky carried you to the quinjet, meeting a pissed looking Steve at the door.

The two didn't talk at all during the short flight back to the compound. It wasn't until you were in the med bay receiving medical attention that Steve rounded on Bucky.

"There was never any indication that more agents were there. They caught us off guard! I didn't even realize she had been shot until after we had them contained." Bucky was beating himself up. He let his guard down, still trying to get over the lingering weirdness of you kissing him.

"Caught you off guard? Buck-" Before Steve could yell anymore, Dr. Cho came out to talk to them.

"Y/N will be fine. She lost a lot of blood, but she should recover relatively quickly. She'll likely wake up in the next half hour." Dr. Cho got straight to the point, trying to ease the nerves of the two super soldiers.

"Thank you so much. Thank you!" Bucky called over his shoulder as he ran into the room, planting himself by your side. He may be weirded out by the kiss, but he knows you were too. You're still like a little sister to him, nothing could stop him from being there for you when you wake up.

Steve followed Bucky into the room after thanking Dr. Cho and briefly discussing the timeline for your recovery.

"As I was saying. Caught you off guard? I've never seen you caught off guard before." Although he was whispering so as not to disturb you, his words were nearly venomous. "The two of you let your feelings get in the way of this mission."

The look of guilt already present on Bucky's face multiplied tenfold. "You think I don't know that? I should've seen it coming. If I wasn't distracted I could've stopped them before Y/N got hurt."

You woke up at some point, hearing Bucky blame himself. Instantly, you wanted to ease his worries. "Hey," the two men turned to you, concern clear on their faces. "It wasn't your fault, Buck. I was just as distracted. Neither of us saw it coming, even though both of us should have. It doesn't matter though, because we got them, and I'll be fine." You sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in your abdomen.

"How can you say that? Of course it matters! You could have died, all because Bucky was too busy making heart eyes at you to-" Steve's words were cut off by identical sounds of laughter from you and Bucky.

"Heart eyes?! Oh my god, that's hilarious." You stuttered out the words between laughs. Steve look so confused, you couldn't help but laugh at his cute expression.

Every time you thought you were done, one look at either Bucky or Steve had you laughing again. "Oh god, make it stop! It hurts to laugh!" You pouted slightly, begging Bucky to stop laughing and Steve to change his expression.

Finally, Bucky reined it in enough to speak. "I was distracted because Y/N like a little sister. It's definitely a bit distracting to feel like you just kissed your sister" You and Bucky each made a face of disgust as you looked at each other.

Meanwhile, Steve had a look of complete shock on his face. "Wh-what? You two aren't ... ya know?”

Again, you and Bucky share looks of disgust. "God, no. He's like a brother to me."

"Yeah, I love Y/N like a sister. I'm definitely not in love with her." Bucky agrees.

Steve's expression is sheepish as he tries to explain himself, "but, but after the kiss you were staring into his eyes like you were in love!"

"We most definitely were not." Mumbling under your breath, you kept talking "his aren't the blue eyes I'd like to lovingly stare into."

Steve was shocked into silence by your statement.

"I think that's my cue to leave." Bucky wore a smug grin as he slapped Steve on the back, uttering a quick "good luck, punk" before leaving.

It was quiet for a minute, neither of you quite sure what to say.

"Who's blue eyes do you want to stare into?" Steve broke the silence, shuffling closer to sit on the side of your bed.

"What?" It took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you said that sentence out loud. "I said that out loud?" You threw your hands up to cover your face, mumbling about being an idiot to delay having to answer.

"You did. So... who's blue eyes?" Steve's demeanor quickly shifted from shy to confident. He slowly moved your hands off your face, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes. One look had you confessing all your secrets.

"Yours. It always been yours." He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, leaning in closer to you until your foreheads were touching.

"Let me take you on a date." His words were barely a whisper, the warm air from his breath sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded in response, not trusting your voice.

He leaned in closer, barely brushing his lips over yours. "I need words, sweetheart."

You pushed forward, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss.

"Yes."

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #requests #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #captain america x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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spnsisterimagines · 3 years

Text

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday.

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch.

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously.

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim.

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him.

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed.

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first.

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked.

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own.

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!"

He selected Toad.

"Why him, Jack?" she asked.

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap.

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him.

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads.

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map.

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang.

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now.

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened.

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered.

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself.

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet.

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front.

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred.

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably.

"We lost..." Sam mumbled.

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller.

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed.

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping.

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

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