#<- for that glock in the corner . sorry Tumblr posts

[boxwinebaddie]

hard work being a single Motha

[quirkle2]

I was wondering if there are any rare happy ritsu moments in ur zombie au since hes always miserable I think,, like is he always miserable or is he happy/not miserable and feeling kinda good sometimes?

VWHDGDGD NO YEAH OFC HE'S HAPPY SOMETIMES im just horrible and enjoy putting him through misery

ive never been able to get a genuine smile to look right on his face in my art style either i think thats part of it. as ive said his face is just built to be mildly uncomfortable and bothered and i lean into it sm it's starting to get kinda funny

but yes ritsu is happy plenty! i think, canonically, he just seems like the type of person to me that tends to turn lemonade back into lemons. he's easy to scare and his first reaction to things is often Dread and Anxiety. he dwells on the negatives a lot and seems to be a "hope for the best, expect the worst," kinda guy, but there's a section in this post abt shigeo always loving the little things in life, and ritsu steadily learns throughout the journey on how to do that and how healing it can rly be. even if he had to grow up too fast during this whole thing and learn things a kid should never have to, the journey also gave him some good insight and lessons in other places! ritsu is smart, he figures it all out

in terms of little things here n there he's the happiest lil guy on the planet when he finds one of his favorite foods—swings his legs while he sits and munches on a kitkat bar like he's got absolutely nothin in the world to worry abt. sometimes mob does smth funny that he laughs at; for the longest time i've had this silly image in my head of mob accidentally knocking down a bucket from a store shelf and it lands on his head and he just kinda stands there and makes noises.when the noises continue out of pure curiosity about the weird echoey quality it's giving them ritsu cannot help but lose it

besides tiny things tho, when tome comes around ritsu in general is a lot happier, just cuz he has somebody to talk to that will actually respond in some way. they're sorta reluctant partners in crime at first (at least on ritsu's end) but over time and over bonding they grow to rly like each other's presence. they bicker constantly but it's almost always fond eventually, and they shove each other and playfight until mob gets antsy enough to get worked up about it. rly, tome is a godsend to ritsu's mental health—after months and months of being effectively alone with his thoughts, he finally has another person to converse with. a person His Age, too!

tome is rly good at knowing when ritsu is thinkin himself into oblivion and she's Also rly good at being the most annoying girl on the planet to yank him outta that and replace any misery with Oh My God Get Off Me You Freak. she doesn't even do this on purpose at first, but over time she learns how to tell when he's thinking too hard and, ofc, she's grown attached and she cares, so she's as obnoxious as possible to lighten the mood

when they find reigen n teru, ritsu gradually gets Much happier still. now that he knows they're safe and the gang is finally back together (and now that there's an Adult present and he can relax a lil and let himself be taken care of) his stress levels r exponentially lowered. having teru back is another instant lift to his mood—im always a big fan of teru and ritsu friendship, and i think adding tome to their dynamic simply makes it more chaotic. truly a trio of the 3 most normal teenagers in existence which will surely bring nothing but good (reigen sweats offscreen)

actually this makes me feel bad for forever torturing him im gonna go draw happy zau ritsus brb ,.,.ok imback <3

[madaqueue]

SUCK HIS...GLOCK?!

the sensationalized bullshit around some dangerous serial killer tormenting the city is honestly pathetic. so no, you don't see the point in changing your routine, because you aren't a coward like everyone else. that is, until one wrong turn brings you face to face with him.

pairing: serial killer!toji x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (gunplay, dubcon). smut. petnames (pretty, doll, slut), mentions of past murders, teasing, reader is kind of mean to toji lmao, begging, licking/deepthroating a gun, oral (m!receiving). 18+, MDNI (wk: 2.0k)

a/n: i would match his freak (he would literally kill me) (also sorry this title is so stupid but it made me laugh hahahaha)

quintober masterlist | sign up form

“There’s a serial killer on the loose!”

Everyday for the past week the message had been drilled into your mind - every news station, every text from your parents, every thought from the general public seemed to vibrate in sheer terror at the mere idea of some illusive murderer. And yet, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the theatrics.

A serial killer, seriously?

You thought everyone outgrew this overdramatic bullshit when they turned thirteen or something. The fact that not even fully grown adults dared to go outside out of fear just solidified how truly pathetic everyone had become.

So, you take the opportunity for what it is, boots echoing along the empty streets as you enjoy a barren town. Dead leaves blow along the sidewalk in front of you, scurrying out of your path. It’s a nice day, you think, the breeze tickling your skin and the sun warm despite the autumn chill settling in. Of course you weren’t going to miss it, your footsteps falling louder and more determined with each step.

Because you weren’t a coward.

A particularly cold wind brushes past you, the muscles in your legs shivering on instinct. Reaching into your jacket to check the time, you find your pockets empty save for a few hair ties and a small wad of cash. The image of your phone resting on your kitchen counter flashes across your memory for a moment as you silently grumble at your own forgetfulness.

But it’s no matter, you’ll just head straight home. Everything will be fine, you reassure yourself in an effort to shove down the growing nervousness in your stomach.

Rounding the corner, your vision catches an alleyway you’ve seen a few times on walks home with friends. Surely, that would get you home even faster, a real stroke of fate. Your feet stall for a second as you gaze down it, the darkness of surrounding buildings casting a haunting shadow. Taking a steadying breath, you will yourself forward.

Because you aren’t a coward.

Shoving your hands further into the worn material of your pockets, your shoes land heavily on the uneven cobblestone. A water droplet falls on your shoulder from one of the broken pipes overhead, and you grimace. This town gets shittier every year. That pit in your stomach is back, but sheer determination carries you onward.

Because you aren’t afraid.

In an instant, the sigh that had been building in your lungs is forced out as your cheek is shoved into the crumbling brick lining the alley.

Rough hands encircle your wrists, pinning them against your back.

The weight of someone much larger presses into you from behind.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ walkin’ all by yourself?” His voice is almost impossibly low, carrying the teasing lilt of thunder before lightning. “Haven’t you heard there’s a serial killer running around?”

The rock in your stomach lodges in your throat as he laughs, hot puffs of air hitting your neck.

Trying to gauge your odds, you crane your head to get a view of him, roughly scraping your skin against the reddened clay. Just as your eyes manage to catch the dark cloth of his shirt, something presses to your forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, doll,” he preempts. The gun in his hand trails lower, landing between your eyes, the cool metal making you shudder. “I would hate to have to hurt ya.”

Your mouth is dry as ideas course through your mind, running through scenarios to escape this fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in. “I-I have money! You can have it, if you let me go!”

He just chuckles again, and you swear you see a glimpse of a scar at the corner of his lips, adding it to a mental note of anything to help you identify him later. “Oh sweetheart, you can’t actually think I’m doing this for the money, do you?”

Your thoughts stall for a moment. “B-but…but why then…?”

Leaning towards you, his face is now only inches from your own. The scent of tobacco lingers on his breath. “Because I like to see the fear in someone’s eyes when they know they’re gonna die.”

You can’t stop the smirk spreading across your lips. You know it’s stupid - you shouldn’t taunt the fucking murderer holding a gun to your head - but you almost want to laugh.

“Seriously?” Your throat is scratchy as you stifle a chuckle. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you turn to face him.

“What, are you making eye contact with every single person you kill? You have a fucking gun, dude - are you really sitting there, this close, waiting for them to die? Or is that just some line you say to make people afraid, to try and make them beg for mercy?”

That scar shifts as his mouth twitches. Just as he inhales to respond, you continue.

“Oh, I get it! I bet that’s what you get off on, right? The begging?”

His eyebrows quirk, adjusting his position so green eyes stare back at you, mischief dancing behind them. “What if it is? Are you gonna beg me not to kill you if I tell ya that’s what it takes?”

The silver of his gun catches in the flickering sun as your gaze falls upon it. You look to it, then to him, then back to it.

Now, you know what it really takes to get you out of this. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some guy who got a weapon and a bit too much confidence. Sure, maybe he killed those people, but it’s only because they were too stupid to figure it out.

Men like him don’t want some pathetic little bug to crush under their shoe. If he did, he would’ve shot you already.

He wants someone to tell him ‘no,’ to shove around his ego a little. Someone to play with him.

Oh, and you’ll play.

Because you, unlike all those other scared little babies, aren’t a coward.

“I don’t have to fucking beg.”

Green eyes shine like poison as they watch your movements - your neck tilting, lips parting, tongue poking between them. Licking a slow stripe up the barrel of his gun, the taste of metal and dirt coats your senses.

When you reach the top, he lets out a groan, one that morphs into a breathy laugh.

“Well, isn’t today just my lucky day.” His scar delves into the creases of his mouth as he smirks. “Wonder what good deed I did to be rewarded with such a pretty little slut.”

Fucking pathetic.

You want to laugh at him, the predictability - it’s almost overused at this point, you think. The scary serial killer who just wants to get his dick wet, you’re practically quaking in your boots.

But instead of pointing out how boring his whole cliche is, you allow your eyelashes to flutter closed, taking the chamber further past your lips.

It’s cool against the heat of your mouth, tracing the crevices of it with your tongue.

You wonder if this is actually what he used to kill all those people - it almost tastes too clean to be a true murder weapon. Like he ran it through the mud on his way here to try and make his little act seem all the more convincing. Clearly, it didn’t work.

From behind, you feel something poke into your ass. Something hard. Using his weight to push you further into the bricks, his hips grind against you, his growing cock dragging along the curves of your body.

You gasp reflexively at the sensation, eyes shooting open only to be met with his locked on your face, dark hair falling over his forehead.

“Some fuckin’ mouth on you, heh.” It’s like you can watch the gears turning in his mind. “Let’s see what else it can do.”

Sensation begins returning to your wrists when they’re released from his bruising grip. It takes nothing more than a heavy palm on your head for you to land on your knees, rubble shifting beneath your jeans.

All too predictable.

With your newly freed hands, you make quick work of undoing his belt, tugging his waistband down to reveal his cock. It’s thick, flushed and hot in the cold autumn air.

From this angle, you can see the way he sparkles against the sky. Excitement vibrates his nerves as he leans forward, resting a forearm along the brick above your head. The muzzle’s cold metal presses into your temple, but it barely even phases you at this point, melting into the warmth of your skin.

You lick your lips at the way he twitches, watching you drag your palms up his thighs. One hand slowly wraps around his base as you place his tip between your lips, and the man above you moans.

You almost, almost, let a giggle slip.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one threatening to kill you?

And now, you’ve literally got his balls in one hand, the pistol in his fist dropped to his side.

Fucking hell, is this really all it took?

Some serial killer.

You continue pumping his length as you lightly lick the precum pooling along his slit, letting the salty taste linger on your tastebuds. Whatever, you’ll do what you have to do to get out of this.

But it’s not a crime to have a little fun with him, right?

Your tongue swirls around his tip before you take him further, pushing past the ring of muscles lining your throat. He lets out a choked gasp of, “Fuck,” and the rasp in his voice almost makes your pussy clench. Almost.

Taking him deeper and deeper, you can tell he’s getting close from the way he’s starting to thrust his hips forward, little by little.

But now, it’s your turn to play with him.

Pulling your mouth away, you admire the way his cock bounces as he whines at the loss of your warmth.

This time, you don’t stifle your smirk.

The palm wrapped around his base continues stroking him slowly, almost too slowly.

“W-what the fuck do you think yer-”

“Beg.”

His parted lips nearly fold into a frown, eyebrows furrowed in some mix of confusion and frustration. But you didn’t stutter.

“C’mon now, mister ‘serial killer.’ If you wanna cum, you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Sliding up and down his base, you pump him in pace with his ragged breaths.

Between his ribs, his heart races. “Y’know I could fucking kill you.”

And your eyes glimmer, your pace slowing. A silent challenge.

But you won’t.

He tosses his head back, the muscles in his thick neck contracting as he swallows.

“F-fucking - fine. Jesus, fine, whatever.”

Shifting your weight, your thighs rub together in excitement. The silver of his gun flashes as he raises it to his head, scratching the back of his scalp with the muzzle in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension inside him.

“Make me finish already, doll.”

“Aww,” you coo, squeezing his heavy balls in your free hand. A shiver runs up his spine. “That’s not exactly asking, now is it?”

He hides his pleasure behind annoyance as he groans. “Just - fucking, make me cum already.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he grumbles something under his breath. “Please.”

“See, was that so hard?” you hum, pleased. “Even serial killers can have some manners.”

Taking him back into your mouth, you trace the veins of his shaft with your tongue, just as you did with the barrel of his gun. Each ridge, following its path up and down.

Something metal clammors onto the ground behind you, but you pay it little mind. Two hands wrap around your head, holding you in place.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moans. “Fuckin’ take it.”

His balls twitch as he releases into you, hot liquid pouring down your throat.

As you swallow, the palms on your scalp release their tension. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth.

He rubs his face with his forearm, a smirk plastered across his lips, that cute little scar decorating the corner. Beside you, something reflective catches your eye - his gun, laying abandoned on the ground.

Some fucking serial killer.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chasing Smoke || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: canon fic based off season 2 ep 4 where Rafe and Barry visit John B's house while they were all hiding

Warnings: gun use, swearing, drinking, if theres anything else lmk

Word count: 1,423

A/n: boy do i love writing canon fics hehehehe. I’m also compiling a bunch of fics in my queue because I’m going to be busy w school so pls put in your requests!!!!!

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

You were sipping on your fruity drink as you conversed in conversations with a few of your girlfriends, Rafe standing just a few feet away animatedly chatting with his friends. “Bro, the kick on a Glock 17, man. You load it up, line it up, and it's like—" he mimed the motion enthusiastically. Before you could warn Rafe about the guy sitting close behind him, he had already backed into him. "It knocks you off your freakin' feet."

"Hey, excuse me," the guy interjected, his expression one of clear annoyance. "Yeah?" Rafe responded, completely unfazed. "Do you mind?" The man stared at Rafe in disbelief. "I'm so sor—" you began, trying to smooth things over, but Rafe cut you off. "Hey, hey, don't apologize. Let me handle it, yeah?"

Rafe turned his head around, leaning casually on the counter. "I'm sorry?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm. The man raised an eyebrow, his irritation clear. "I said, do you mind?" he repeated, his voice growing sharper.

Rafe took a moment before replying, "Yeah, I do mind, Bob." He smirked as the man scoffed in disbelief. "Take a shot with me, pussy," Rafe challenged, his voice dripping with mockery. You slapped his shoulder, "stop it," you hissed at him.

"Come on. Take a shot," Rafe continued, his voice steady as he poured his drink onto the man's hand. The man shot up from his seat, shoving Rafe hard. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone around. Your eyes widened in alarm as heads turned.

In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Kelce rushing towards you, his expression frantic and urgent. His footsteps echoed in the dimly lit bar as he approached, weaving through the tables and chairs.

"Take a seat. That's what you need to do," Rafe commanded firmly, his voice cutting through the tension as he pushed Bob back into his seat. The atmosphere was full of unease, the murmurs of other patrons now audible as they glanced over at the commotion.

“Whoa! Whoa!" Kelce interjected, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab Rafe's shoulders, attempting to calm him down. You exhaled a breath you didn't realise you were holding, grateful for Kelce's intervention. "Go get the manager. He's crazy!" Bob's voice rose above the murmurs.

"Eat shit," Rafe retorted sharply, his frustration palpable as he resisted Kelce's efforts to pull him away from the conflict. Kelce persisted, trying to redirect Rafe's attention. "Hey," he began, his tone soothing yet urgent. "What?" Rafe snapped, his gaze still locked on Bob with a mixture of defiance and irritation.

"Calm down, all right?" Kelce urged, his voice steadier now, trying to reason with his friend. Rafe rolled his eyes in exasperation, but the tension in his shoulders began to ease slightly. "I swear to God, 20 minutes ago, I just saw John B and your sister, bro."

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your lips parting as your mind struggles to process Kelce's words. "You're joking, right?" you managed to utter, searching Kelce's face. "I'm not kidding! They're alive," Kelce insisted.

Rafe and you exchanged a stunned glance. "Me and my girl are just tryin' to relax, and you're telling me this bullshit?" Rafe responded, disbelief and annoyance laced in his tone.

"I know you're trying to relax, bro, but I saw them buying beer at Geechie's!" Kelce pressed on. "That's bullshit," you interjected, not believing him. "Do you guys wanna go see for yourselves?" Kelce challenged, his eyes darting between you and Rafe. "I'm telling you, I saw them. Go sober up, man." Without waiting for a response, Kelce dragged both of you towards the exit. "Hey, put it on Cameron!" Rafe called out.

~

"I need to know who's over here at John B's spot," Barry's voice cuts through the tension in the car, his grip on the gun drawing your annoyance. "Barry, could you please not hold the gun like that? Seriously, I don't even know why I'm here!" you groan from the backseat, frustration evident in your voice.

Rafe turns around from the passenger seat, fixing you with a stern look. "You're here because I told you to be, alright? So just be quiet," he grumbles, turning back to Barry.

"Listen, I don't know if he's there, okay? I just know he's on the island," Rafe says, trying to reason with Barry. "That's a complete lack of discipline, man," Barry shakes his head, irritation coloring his tone.

"Then what's your suggestion? We're about two minutes from the fuckin’ place, alright?" Rafe snaps back. "We do some recon," Barry suggests firmly. "Why don't you just follow my lead for once and shut up? all right?" he adds, frustration clear in his eyes as he looks at Rafe.

"Recon, huh?" Rafe mutters under his breath, clearly not thrilled with Barry's suggestion. "This is ridiculous," you interject from the backseat. "Yeah, Princess here agrees. Why'd you bring your girl out here with us, Rafe?" Barry questions, prompting an eye-roll from Rafe. "She's here because I told her to be, alright? Just shut up and drive," Rafe retorts, his tone edged with impatience.

~

"Tranquillo. You feel me?" Barry says to Rafe as he pulls up just a few meters from John B's house. "Tranquillo?" Rafe repeats skeptically, his gaze fixed on the house ahead. "Tranquillo, baby," Barry reassures him as you roll your eyes at the two.

"Let's be smart," Barry advises as you all exit the car. "Rafe, just to be clear, the gun is just for show, right? You're not planning on shooting anyone," you whisper urgently to Rafe as he hums in affirmation, as you exchange a look with Barry.

You follow closely behind the two men, your senses heightened as you scan the surroundings. "Okay, check it," Rafe whispers as the three of you huddle behind some bins. "All right, I ain't see shit, what 'bout you?" Barry asks quietly.

"Nothing," you add nervously, your eyes darting around anxiously. "No. They can't be far though," Rafe whispers, his voice tense with anticipation. "Right, here's what we gon' do," Barry begins, and you lean in closer to hear him clearly. "I'm gonna go inside. I'm gonna flush them out if they're in there. I want you to flank left, meet me out there by the porch."

"And princess, well, you're gonna be with Rafe, aight'? Make sure he ain't gonna do something he'll go cry about later on to us," Barry instructs, loading his gun that you were unaware he was carrying. "You have a gun too?" you whisper sharply at him as Rafe quickly covers your mouth with his hand. "'Course I do. Now, let's go!" Barry commands, rising from the cover, and Rafe pulls you along with him.

You and Rafe step cautiously into the front yard, your hand gripping his arm for reassurance. You point silently to the recently extinguished fire pit, sharing a worried glance with him. Rafe clicks his tongue in frustration, muttering under his breath, "Where the hell are you?"

~

You flinch instinctively at the sharp sound of glass shattering nearby, turning with Rafe to see Barry angrily tossing aside a few bottles. "Yo!" Rafe calls out, his voice tense with frustration as Barry storms out of the house, slamming the door open. "Anything?" Rafe asks urgently.

Barry scoffs, his expression darkening. "No, ain't shit in there, bro," he replies curtly, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. Rafe closes his eyes briefly, disappointment evident on his face. "No? Nothing?" he presses, hoping for a different answer.

"No, nothing, Rafe," Barry responds firmly. "They were obviously just here though, judging by the smoke," Rafe points out, scanning the surroundings. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Great observation, boy scout!" Barry retorts mockingly, earning an eye-roll from you as you observe the banter between the two boys.

"They can't be far, you know?" Rafe continues, his voice tinged with determination. "Smokey the bear! Look at you, bro!" Barry laughs with sarcasm. "They gotta be around here somewhere," Rafe reassures himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration, while you sigh and settle onto a nearby log.

As the tension mounts, Rafe falls silent, his gaze shifting towards a massive tree nearby. Both you and Barry follow his gaze, noticing the initials carved into the bark. "P4L," Barry reads aloud with a chuckle, and Rafe joins in, shaking his head in disbelief. He makes eye contact with you as you stand up from your spot.

"So your sister's a pogue for life, huh, Rafe? Who would've thought?" you mutter under your breath, a hint of irony in your tone, prompting a laugh from Barry. Rafe remains quiet for a few seconds, shaking his head in frustration. You immediately regret your remark as his anger visibly simmers.

"Shit!" Rafe suddenly erupts in anger, causing you to flinch back instinctively. Barry moves swiftly to place a hand on your back, his expression shifting to concern. "Rafe, chill, man," he urges calmly, sensing Rafe's escalating temper. You gulp nervously, knowing Rafe was beyond furious right now.

Without warning, Rafe starts shooting his gun wildly at the tree, bullets whizzing dangerously close to you. The loud bangs echo in the quiet surroundings, and you instinctively cover your ears, fear gripping you. "Hey! Whoa! Hey, chill, bro! Rafe!" Barry intervenes, grabbing Rafe's shoulders in an attempt to restrain him.

Your hands tremble as you yank the gun out of Rafe's grip, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "What the fuck, Rafe! You're going to get us caught, you idiot!" you yell at him, adrenaline coursing through you.

Barry looks around anxiously, realizing the precariousness of the situation. "Let's bounce, let's bounce. Let's go!" he urges urgently, starting to move away quickly. You follow suit, grabbing Rafe's arm firmly. "Hurry up!" you plead, snapping him out of his daze, and together you rush back to the car.

[toxicanonymity]

I’d sacrifice my firstborn for another Raider!Joel fic….

Failed rescue

1.9k, raider!Joel x f!Reader | raider master

mood board by @milla-frenchy

A/N: Picks up after the first Raider but can be read alone. Next: Raider: Stash house

WARNINGS: 18+ very dubious consent unsafe P in V, victim guilt, dark!Joel, gun violence (against your bf), forced gun play, forced cuckolding, forced masturbation (bf), Joel can lift reader.

After Joel has his way with you, you’re locked in a room for hours while the raiders continue their pillaging.  Joel gets called outside, and the same rookies that captured you have a man on his knees. It's your boyfriend, Jack.  He's begging to go into the house.  This is unusual, and Joel wants to hear him out, telling the rookies to hold their fire.  One of them explains, “He says his girlfriend’s in there.  He just wants to make sure she’s safe.”  The other men laugh.  

“Is he armed?” Joel asks.  

“Not anymore,” one of them says, holding up a Glock.  

Joel reaches out for it. "I'll hang onto this."  Then he turns his attention to Jack.  “What’s she look like?”

He describes you. Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes darken.  He waits a beat before answering.  

“Oh, she’s fine . . .” Joel says.  

"Let her go," Jack pleads. 

"Let her go. . ."" Joel repeats, and nods slowly like he's thinking.  "C'mon, I'll take ya to her." The rookies look at each other hesitantly, then push Jack toward Joel.  On the walk to the house, he thanks Joel over and over for having mercy on you.

-

You hear Jack’s voice approaching the door with Joel.  Jack is thanking Joel, and you’re mostly relieved.  Joel lets him in the room then stands imposingly in the door with his gun.   Jack goes over to you on the mattress, looking you over, seeing if you’re okay.  You throw your arms around him and he says, “Come on honey, let's get out of here.”

Joel says, “Who said anything ‘bout leavin’?” and uses his boot to slam the door behind him without taking his eyes off the two of you. 

Jack’s face drains to white and you start to cry.  Jack doesn’t even know about what Joel did to you.  You feel a wave of guilt for the orgasm you had.  

Joel trains his gun on Jack and says in a low, firm voice, “In the corner.  Now.  And take off your clothes”

Jack hesitates, but when Joel points the gun at you instead, he complies.  He cowers in the corner naked while you sit crumpled up on the mattress.

“On your knees,” Joel tells you gently.  He palms himself and starts unbuckling his belt, and an unwanted arousal stirs between your legs.  

Jack begs “Please, no, no.”

“You’re gonna keep your mouth shut, understand?” Joel warns him, then looks at you and licks his lips. 

“Please,” Jack whispers.   

“What’samatter, don’t wanna see another cock in her mouth?,” Joel asks. "Fine." Joel points his rifle in your face.  He nudges your chin with the cold metal of the long barrel and makes you look up at him. 

“Open wide." 

You whimper and hesitate.  

"Sorry sweet pea, lover boy prefers it." 

Jack begs Joel to put down the gun.  

"I reckon you don't want another man's gun in her mouth either?"  Joel takes off his rifle and puts it out of reach. He pulls Jack's Glock out of the back of his pants.  

Joel nudges your lips with the muzzle. It's at least a little warmer from being in Joel's pants. Both you and Jack stop protesting.  

You take deep breaths trying to stop crying, then carefully wrap your lips around the barrel. 

"Now suck."

You're shaking like a leaf, your teeth chattering against the barrel, but you steel yourself and suck slowly.  It's terrifying having a gun in your mouth, but there's also a nagging voice at the back of your mind saying Joel would never physically hurt you and this display of dominance is all for Jack's benefit.  You wish Jack had stayed away once he saw the raiders. 

"This better, Romeo?"  Joel says, holding the gun in your mouth. 

"No, no," Jack says. 

You make eye contact with Joel, hoping it'll earn you some goodwill.  You remember he told you to look at him with his cock in your mouth. 

Joel looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. It sends a wave of arousal through you. He slides the gun out of your mouth. 

"Doin' great, sweet pea. Pants off, now. Just like before."  He looks at Jack.  

Joel palms his hard cock over his pants, still holding the gun in his other hand while you take your pants off and avoid looking anywhere near Jack.  

-

You don't realize how wet you are until the cool air hits your exposed pussy.  

"Same way as before?" Joel asks. Jack whimpers and you don't want to face him. 

"No," you say and turn around facing Joel. 

"Alright then," Joel nods in approval. "Let's see those titties."

Joel gets down on his knees on the mattress with you.  You sit up on your knees and he lifts your shirt and bra up with his free hand.  The way he looks at your body makes you hot. You help him take your clothes off entirely and you're sitting on your knees. He nudges your knees open to make room for his hand. 

"Good girl," he says. He gropes a breast while he rubs the barrel of the gun against your wet seam, sending a shiver through you.  Your nipple hardens against his palm.  "Mmmm," he says.  He twists his wrist to put the gun muzzle-up and notch it at your entrance. He rubs himself as he begins to push the gun into you. Your heart races. If he even flinches, you could be blown to bits.

"Wait," you say.  You reach for the bulge in his unbuttoned pants. His eyes widen. A smirk spreads across his face as he unzips himself.

"What, you want this?" He takes his big, hard cock in his hand, stroking it slowly. 

"Yes." There's no hesitancy in your response. You're telling yourself it's better than the gun, and it's best to get it over with. But at the same time, you're yearning to be filled by him.

"Well damn," Joel chuckles proudly. "Hear that? She wants the D," he says to Jack, then softens his voice to address you again.  "Any time, baby. All ya have to do is ask." 

You nod, “Please.”   You keep telling yourself it's just better than a gun, but the throbbing between your legs tells a different story.

"Attagirl, c'mere baby."

You're curious what Jack is doing in total silence, and you glance back at him one last time before you get on your back and spread your legs. Bad idea. The wet, sticky barrel of the gun presses onto your cheek and turns your head back toward Joel. His eyes darken.  “You look at me and only me, understand?" Joel says firmly. "Let me worry ‘bout him.”  You nod. His jaw clenches.

-

Joel looks Jack up and down and smiles, bemused.  "Turn you on? . . . Get to it, then."  You wonder if Jack was aroused.

Jack whimpers.  

"Go on. It's there, might as well jack it." You don't know what to think about Jack being aroused. "Hell, finish before me and I might let you live."

A pit forms in your stomach. You don't want Jack dead. 

Jack sobs and you begin to hear his hesitant strokes. 

-

Joel walks forward on his knees to get all the way between your legs, hand wrapped around his stiff length. His cock is so nice, you can't help but admire it. You feel sorry for Jack having to see such superior equipment. 

Joel leans over you, gun still in his hand, and rests the heel of his palm by your shoulder on the mattress.  He aligns himself between your legs, and you throb in anticipation.  He thumbs your clit. 

“Doin’ great, baby.  Now let’s show’m how good you take a real cock.”  He wets his lips. 

Joel closes his eyes and pushes his swollen tip inside with a grunt. You suppress a moan at the stretch of his girth.  Then, he slams his length as far into you as he can.  "C'mon baby, you can do it." His mouth hangs open as he backs up, then plunges into you more forcefully.  You gasp as your insides part, and Joel sighs loudly as he bottoms out. Joel hovers over you, completely inside you, and looks from your eyes to your mouth. 

"Good girl, just like that."

He slowly recedes then forcefully fills you up again, grunting "Mm." His girth is almost too much to handle.  Your inner thighs stretch with his torso heavy between them.  His pants rub against your skin.  You can't help but wonder what he looks like completely naked.  It's a shameful thought with a gun so close to your head. He begins to pound you at a regular rhythm.  His eyes briefly look past you to the corner, and you wish he wouldn't remind you. You can hear Jack breathing heavily as he jerks off for his life. 

Joel's voice is soft and low.  "You're doing so good, sweet pea."  He pounds your g-spot and you dread your orgasm. You try to resist it.

-

A guy outside the door says they're loaded up and ready to go.  Joel tells him one truck will have to wait.  

"Takin' you with me," Joel pants as he fucks you. Then he thrusts deep inside you and stays there.  "I'll take care of ya. Won't let anyone touch ya" He rolls his hips into you masterfully, staying mostly inside you, not letting up on that special spot, and you can't hold off any longer. You wince and clench around his cock.  You try not to moan as you ride your waves, but your back arches and the pressure builds in your face from holding your breath. 

"Let it out, baby," Joel says, and you release your moan.  He keeps thrusting into you slowly. As your climax wanes, you think about how Jack barely ever made you come. Not during sex. Not like this. It's terrible of you to think about, but even worse that you're thinking about Jack in past tense. 

Joel's brow furrows.  He breathes heavily.  He pulls out and groans as he comes all over you in a broken trail from your cleavage to your groin. He catches his breath for a moment, then he looks at Jack regretfully.

Jack pleads, "no," and keeps stroking himself. "I'm almost finished," he says. 

Joel closes his pants and holsters Jack's gun in the back of his waistband again. Then Joel puts his own rifle back on. 

"Sorry, buddy. Time's up," Joel tells Jack, then turns to you. "Cover your ears, baby." 

Joel calmly aims the gun at Jack and pulls the trigger without so much as blinking.  You jump and your ears ring.  You're in shock.  You don't look back at Jack's body. 

Joel swings his gun out of the way behind him, squats down, and takes you in his arms.  "It's ok, sweet pea." You collapse into him, sobbing.  "I know, baby, it's okay." He rubs your back. "I got you, baby."  How does any part of you feel safe in these arms after everything he's done? It doesn't make any sense at all.

Joel tells you, "There's some real bad guys out there, sweet pea.  My guys ain't the worst of 'em." You believe him. 

"C'mon, let's get dressed," Joel tells you and starts to help you put your clothes on.  "You want a ride again, or you gonna walk?"

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione

(A/N): if you like the forced-j/o-to-save-your-life thing, i originally did it in michael makes them watch which has a different set-up and the stranger lives, but at what cost? btw michael is just a buff man in a mask - I never describe his real face/head or made him talk, so in that way he's kind of a blank slate to HC how you want. and slasher smut rarely has detailed warnings so generally assume the worst.

[zorobraun]

sexual tension with ghost that leads to sex (but he’s not toxic anymore) part four

at one lonely night, simon thought that he just needed a distraction to stop thinking about you all the fucking time. yet… “you’re so big and strong.” ghost almost frowns when he hears the woman he was about to fuck — so he can think it’s you instead — whispering on his ear. fucking hell, this lady sounds pathetic; even though she’s not mocking him at all. however, he’d much rather hear you saying those words in your usual mocking tone, than her saying them in a seductive one. “actually, i have a girlfriend. sorry.” he lies, smiling politely. if he had been honest, he would’ve said: “actually, you’re not y/n, so i physically can’t get hard, even though you’re pretty fuckable. sorry.”

(…)

“jesus christ, maybe we should get him a dog.” konig says to alejandro and soap while they stare at their lieutenant’s miserable and lonely figure. ghost is taking a deep breath as he feels the sun on his not so exposed skin. “bro had to reconnect with mother nature to try to get over y/n.” soap jokes, making they burst out laugh. “y’all are mean. malos!” alejandro punches their arms, laughing. meanwhile, ghost decides that it’s enough mother nature for today and walks back to the base, just to find the three of them holding back a laugh. “morning, lt.” they all say together, looking quite suspicious. “get the fuck outta’ my face, bastards.”

(…)

after a few days suffering to get over you, the day has finally arrived — soap’s birthday. ghost sighs as he enters the downtown bar, the overwhelming noise of people talking loudly mixed with music invading his ears. “finally! i thought you wouldn’t come.” soap punches ghost’s arm, hugging him tight. “drunk already?” ghost chuckles, taking a look around. “you know me, lt.” he smirks, taking a long sip of his long neck beer. “come on, we’re all over there.” soap adds, pointing to the corner of the bar, where the pool table is.

they all greet ghost with sincere smiles and hugs, one thing about lieutenant ghost is that he’s very loved by people, somehow. he grabs a beer as he joins the team’s conversation, sitting on the edge of the pool table. “lt, that girl is staring. like, for real. i think she wants you.” konig discretely points to a blonde woman, making all of the boys look at her simultaneously. “fucking idiots, y’all don’t know how to fudge.” konig rolls his eyes, they all laugh.

“if you fumble her, i swear to god…” soap stares at his best friend. ghost grins, holding back a laugh. “i might, not gonna lie. i’m not in the mood.” simon shrugs, making them mock him with annoying sounds. “right, she’s not y/n!” alejandro mocks him again and ghost chuckles. “i’ll fucking kill you when we leave this place.” ghost jokes, pulling his jacket up to show his glock. “alejandro didn’t lie, though. you were always in the mood with her.” soap adds, they all laugh again, except for ghost.

“what did y’all expect?” obviously they all stay silent, or else simon would kill them. “i was on my knees for her.” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he is obsessed with you still. “literally.” konig points out, making them hold back a laugh. ghost sighs defeatedly when he notices the sudden silence, all of their dread faces, staring behind him. of course you had to come. “h-hey, y/n!” soap smiles nervously, walking towards you. ghost swallows hard, standing up. “happy birthday, soap.” you smile wholeheartedly, hugging him. “i bought you something, hope you like it.” you stroke his arm slightly, he kisses your cheek as he thanks you.

ghost turns his back to face you and the world stops. his heart skips a beat when you look back at him, you look so beautiful in this black short silk dress. you think he looks very handsome in all black too, but you’d rather die than say it out loud. they all clear their throat as they start talking to each other, pretending to not care about you and ghost at all.

“now what are you even doing here?” you finally say with some sort of disgust in your words. ghost is in shock with your bratty attitude, coming closer to you. “come again?” he frowns, your gaze on him suddenly getting on his nerves. “soap said you wouldn’t be able to make it, that’s why i’m here, obviously.” you roll your eyes, trying to ignore his perfume messing up all of your senses.

“well, sweetheart, soap fucking lied. now fix your attitude, we’re not together anymore.” he says in his usual bossy tone and you just hate it so much. you chuckle dryly, stepping in closer, so he can hear you very clearly. “have we ever been together, simon? i just remember being your sex toy, that’s all.” you force a smile, already getting mad at his stupid face. “you enjoyed every second of it, though. if you weren’t such a whiny bitch, i would’ve made us official.” he says straight to your face, just a few inches away from yours, actually.

you swallow hard, as if you were preparing yourself for something you’ve been wanting to do for a while now. you slap him in the face with such a force, that your palm stings. your breathing grows a bit faster, a part of you afraid of what he’s going to do about it. half of the people around you is staring at you and ghost, with curious but shocked eyes. suddenly, all you hear is the loud music; ‘closer���, by nine inch nails. you hold your breath for a while. simon has this hatred painted all over his face as everybody’s attention goes somewhere else, thank god.

ghost thinks you’re very lucky to be you and above all, a woman. he would never hurt a woman, specially you, of course. but oh god, he’s mad. he’s furious. he just wants to make you suffer so bad, he wants to absolutely ruin your entire life, make you feel humiliated in front of this entire bar, just like he’s feeling right now. he grabs your arm in a tight grip as his lips come closer to your ear. “you’ll fucking regret that.” his tone sounds deeper now that he’s seeing red.

before you could answer, simon’s grip obliges you to keep up with his wide steps. you’re following him like a puppy and it makes you try to get away from him, but he’s way stronger. and besides, you don’t really want to leave him. “hey you, let her go!” a random guy yells at simon, placing a hand on his chest. you frown, as if you’re telling the guy that he just made a huge mistake. “get the hell outta’ my face before i break your fucking nose.” simon says in a very annoyed tone, his grip on you never leaving.

“do it, asshole. you don’t have the b…” the poor guy suddenly falls onto the ground, his hand pressing against his bleeding nose. you widen your eyes, holding simon’s arm. for a moment, he realizes how much he missed your gentle hands on him. he doesn’t waste any more time as you both walk towards the exit. “u-um, i’m sorry, okay?” you mutter nervously as you both leave the bar. ghost is walking the two of you to his car, you notice.

“i wasn’t thinking straight.” you add when he pushes you against his car’s closed door. he’s looking into your eyes a bit differently than before; like his hatred just turned into something more powerful. simon grabs the sides of your neck so hard that you could almost choke. you start praying to god, maybe this is the day you’ll meet him in heaven. well, you’re indeed going to heaven tonight. just not to meet jesus. simon pulls you close by the grip on your neck, kissing you slowly. oh, so this is heaven…

the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth like he’s claiming you for the thousandth time makes you moan quietly against him. he swallows that one single sound of yours as if it was his favorite drink. you both hold back the urge to say that you’ve missed each other so bad as he eagerly bites your bottom lip. you breathe out as your hand goes to the small of his back, pulling his body closer to yours. he almost groans when he feels your tiny figure trying to get some friction against him.

“do you ever… think straight, when i’m around?” he finally says something as he stops kissing you, out of breath. your cheeks get red when you realize you’re already melting to the way his voice sounded firm, but calm and flirty at the same time. that burning hate of his seems to fade away when you chuckle. “not really.” he holds back a smile.

“as much as i want to fuck some decency in you…” he stares at your lips for a second. you press your thighs together. “i won’t do that.” he grabs your jaw, his face too close for your comfort. “‘cause i know this was your plan all along.” he places a suggestive kiss under your ear. “besides…” he pauses. his breathing on your sensitive area making you shiver. “i’m over you.” simon completes, knowing damn well that this statement will absolutely destroy you in so many ways. so you almost throw up when you notice that he sounds so sure of what he just said. little do you know, he’s a proud liar.

“no, you’re not.” you think out loud, wanting to punch yourself for sounding so desperate, so dependent of him, of his stupid affection for you. you just can’t bear the tought of him moving on so easily when you’re right where he left you. suddenly, you feel the urge to cry. you grab the hand that was on your face, placing it above your beating heart. “tell me you don’t feel a single thing for me and i swear to god, i’ll leave for good. you’ll never hear from me again.” you say with watery eyes staring into his. simon’s breathing grows erratic, his throat is so dry that he thinks you’ll be the death of him. he wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from you, honestly. maybe he wasn’t the only one that still didn’t move on.

“you let your fear of love win again and you’ll fucking lose me, simon.” you’re literally tearing up now, his hand might be shaking against you. “this is the last time i’m fighting for you, do you understand? i’m done fighting alone, when you don’t even move a single finger for me.” your heart misses a beat when you realize you can’t even get a reaction from him. “i want you to fucking say something, do something!” you let go of his hand as you hit his chest, pushing him away. simon stays silent and you close your eyes, tears running down your face as you take a defeated breath.

you look at him. “goodbye, simon.” you’re saying these words so many times that it’s becoming your tagline. you lick your lips and sigh, walking away. he’s paralyzed as his heart keeps screaming don’t let her go, don’t let her go, don’t let her go. he feels like having a panic attack when he tries to breathe deeply, but he can only breathe shallowly. don’t be a pussy, you’re embarassing. your family, they were never a good example of love. you can let it go, you can let them go. what you can’t let go, is her. do something. do something. do something.

simon swallows hard as your absence pulls him out of his messy thoughts. he takes a look around, but you’re already far away. it doesn’t matter, he’d follow you through hell. his steps are wide and fast as he doesn’t lose track of you. he shoves some people away on the sidewalk. he doesn’t care. then you feel it — his hand on your wrist. you stop walking, already knowing that he’ll say some nonsense shit to make you feel less worse, just like the other night. you turn your back to look at him with annoyed eyes. he takes a deep breath.

“y/n, i once said to soap that you’re too good for me… but i was wrong. it turns out that you’re the best part of me.” simon’s hands go to the back of your neck, looking into your bright eyes. “i realized that too late, when i lost you.” he pauses, licking his lips nervously. “i can’t lose you again, i don’t want to. all i want is you, by my side.” you swallow hard. “i’m sorry, love, for being so complicated. i’m a fucking prick but… i’ll try to be a better man, from now on.” his fingers caress your cheeks.

“i love you. i love you too fucking much. i wouldn’t even want to fall in love if the person i fell in love with wasn’t you.” he chuckles sweetly when he notices your shocked face. “i’m sincerely in love with you and it pisses me off, ‘cause i didn’t know i was able to love someone this much. so stay with me. stay with me today, tomorrow, and the day after that. the other ones too.” simon gives you sweet little kisses all over your face, making the both of you chuckle. “you’re my entire heart, dumbass.” he grins wholeheartedly, and…

you kiss him hard. god, you want to fucking kill him, then bring him back to life.

well, you kind of did.

(…)

“how’s the water temp?” simon looks at your flushed face as you let the water run down your body. “warm enough.” you smile, pulling him close so he can get under the shower with you. he chuckles, kissing your wet forehead. you try to push him away playfully when you notice his gaze on your body — he doesn’t even move. “stop looking at me like that!” you complain, laughing. “you do realize that i’ve already seen your entire body like, a hundred times, right?” he raises an eyebrow mockingly, laughing at your unnecessary shyness.

“i’m not complaining, though.” he smirks, caressing your arm. “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you hold back a smile, rolling your eyes. you give him a quick little kiss, holding onto his forearm, since he’s too tall for you. “aw, thanks. it’s a shame i can’t say the same for you.” you joke, he closes his eyes as he laughs. “you’re so dumb, i swear to god…” simon cups your face so he can kiss you again.

“okay, okay.” you pull away, lips still close to his. “i think you’re very handsome, no joke this time.” you smile, looking into his eyes. “and i might love your forearm’s tattoo more than i love you.” you joke, caressing the area you just mentioned as you stare at his toned forearm. your man is just so attractive. he raises an eyebrow. you both chuckle. “just say you ‘wanna fuck, dickhead.” simon teases, you slap his arm.

“i don’t, dumbass.” you roll your eyes playfully, smiling too. he’s looking at you as if he knows you’re lying, but you both choose to ignore that. “help me wash my hair, i’m done with you.” he laughs, grabbing the shampoo. you close your eyes when you feel his fingers rubbing your scalp gently. your relaxed sigh makes him hug you from behind, foam getting all over your stomach. “sleeping on me now, love?” he teases with a kiss on your cheek. you’re really feeling sleepy as his face goes to the crook of your neck, feeling your soft skin against his body.

“i like having you close to me.” you mumble, eyes still closed. simon smiles half heartedly, holding you tighter. you’re both too warm to the touch. he sighs lazily as he pulls away, letting you wash the shampoo out. simon takes a deep lovesick breath while watching you do your thing. he sighs, touching his face — your natural beauty makes him ask himself when did he get so lucky. the way the water runs down your wet soft skin, your perfectly balanced body proportions… you’ve got him on his knees.

“‘wanna know a secret?” simons smirks. you chuckle, nodding. “i’m really happy that i’ll get to sleep next to you for the first time, in my own bed, at my own house. it’s something i’ve been… dreaming about for a while now.” you pout as he caresses your arm, chuckling at your cute reaction. you love the fact that the two of you aren’t at the base tonight, making the intimacy much better. “i can’t wait to cuddle with my beautiful, breathtaking, sexy girl and wake up next to her.” simon says playfully, looking at you with those eyes. you raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “you’ll let me fuck you, right, baby?” he jokes and you both laugh out loud. he pulls you into a playful tight hug.

“i already told you.” you roll your eyes playfully as you push him slightly away. “we’re not fucking tonight. i need to know if you really love me for me and not for the way i suck your dick.” you mock at him, making him laugh too loud again, in disbelief. “you got me there, sweetheart.” he clicks his tongue. “i do love the way you suck me, that’s why i fell for you in the first place.” he mocks back with a grin, lying. he fell for you because your vulnerability picked his soul up from a very dark place.

“you’re insufferable, simon.” you chuckle as you kiss him, and…

you let simon riley fuck you in the shower.

(…)

when the two of you finally lay down on his bed, you hear simon’s heavy but relieved sigh. you smile half heartedly as you both look at each other. “i can’t believe i had to wait for so long to sleep next to you.” you mock at him, making him roll his eyes as he laughs; the fact that he came off as the one who played hard to get due to his trauma is embarassing. “don’t even fucking start.” he hugs you, giving messy kisses all over you as a way to shut you up. you’re both laughing like idiots as you feel his heavy body almost suffocating you.

“g-get away from me!” you chuckle, making him chuckle too as he pulls slightly away from you. “you’ll see that it was worth the wait.” he jokes, kissing your forehead. “oh, i know.” you smirk as your face goes to the crook of his neck, making yourself comfortable. you hug him as you put one leg around his. simon chuckles, pulling you even closer as his hand gently strokes the small of your back. your breathing is too calm now, maybe you’re already asleep.

“wake up, sleepyhead.” he says playfully, hugging you tight before pulling away from you. you sigh impatiently as you open your eyes. before you could punch him in the face, he starts. “i need to make us official.” you raise an eyebrow, holding back a smile. “is that so?” you chuckle, kissing him. you sit on the bed as he caresses your thigh, still laying next to you. “i’ve never been that much of a romantic, so this will have to do, i’m sorry, love.” you both chuckle as you nod. “i’d rather marry you already but let’s take it one step at a time.” he smirks, making you blush.

“i wanna’ do it right this time. i no longer can imagine myself without you, so…” simon clears his throat, frowning. you can see that he’s struggling, so you kiss him quickly. “yes, i’ll be your girlfriend, simon.” you get it over with, making him let out a relieved laugh. “thank you so much, gorgeous. i just felt weird to ask you that, ‘cause i feel like we’ve been dating since the night you knocked at my door.” he chuckles, you obviously agree with that. “true, i remember being loyal to you even though we were just fucking around.” you point out, making you both laugh at the statement.

“i was loyal too, you know? my cock was very loyal to you as well, it wouldn’t even get hard with anyone else.” he mocks with a loud laugh, getting embarrassed with the memories. you slap his arm. “babe, i’m not joking.” simon adds, now you laugh out loud. “you’re disgusting, i can’t believe i accepted you as my boyfriend.” you joke, laying your body on top of him. he hugs your waist with a playful grin on his lips. “fuck, i miss when you actually had some sort of respect for me.” he gives your ass a slap, making you chuckle against him.

“you know i love you.” you look at him with a playful smirk. his lovesick eyes, his caring smile. oh, you’re really in love. you both stay still and silent for a moment, just feeling each other’s warmth. “i almost forgot.” he breaks the silence as you frown, growing curious. he stretches his arm under the bed, making you even more confused. simon sits on the bed with you on his lap. “i bought you flowers.” you open your mouth in both surprise and excitement. did simon-heartless-riley bought you flowers? “no, you didn’t. when did you buy them? i was with you the whole time!” you chuckle in disbelief before smiling like a teenager in love.

“i bought ‘em a few minutes before heading to soap’s party, as a promise to myself.” he explains, caressing your thigh with his free hand. “a promise to yourself?” you ask, smiling curiously. “yeah, love. a promise to myself that…” he pauses as his hand finally appears again, this time with a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers. you pout softly as you caress his arm. “…that i would get the girl.” simon stares into your bright eyes. your reaction makes him chuckle quietly before kissing you in a very tender and meaningful way.

he certainly got the girl.

finally.

tags: @nijiru @ahleeyuh

[haakaan00502]

Old habits and new

Ghost treads carefully, one foot in front of the other, a handgun up and close to his chest as if it was protecting his heart. He stays near the wall, almost gliding through it, slow and fluid movements as his eyes dart from one corner to another, checking every angle his view allows him to.

He looks at the mirror, checking the reflection of the kitchen to see if there was anyone-

“Si?” a familiar voice asks.

Ghost feels like he was caught red handed, a feeling close to shame settles in his chest.

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh.

He releases the tension his back was holding before setting his bag on the side of their couch.

Ghost opens the pantry, checking for supplies, sufficient water and food. He checks some of the canned goods sell-by date, or if they still have enough detergents below the sink. He opens the fridge and counts the frozen meat and vegetables they still had, checking if the eggs are still fresh.

Soap eyes him from the side while he was sipping water, giving a concerned look.

“Simon,” Soap says, to which Ghost grumbled in response before reluctantly closing the fridge.

“Sorry.”

He throws his body to the couch while Soap busies himself in the other room.

He takes out a handgun, flicking the lights on and off before checking if the mag is empty. He pulls the slides and back before pulling the trigger, removing the slide off the gun revealing its innards.

He polishes the gun with a rag, barely smudging the towel.

With a quick spray of gun oil, he reassembles the gun back, placing the trigger and the spring where it belongs. Putting the slide back in its frame in one smooth fashion, nearly beating his personal speed record

Having done so hundreds of times, the glock looked like it shined, even more pristine than the day he first got it.

He taps his left leg as he clasps his hands together, feeling anxious for seemingly no reason at all, Ghost slightly grows irritated. He leans back to the couch, placing his head on top of the backrest as he closes his eyes.

He hates it whenever they go on leave, so much so they had to force Ghost on taking one. Only ever agreeing when Soap asked, three times. Though he was sure all it took was one for him to cave in.

Ghost never learned how to leave his shoes on the front door, always bringing his work even inside their home, muddying up the floors. He’s not opposed to learning how to “relax” or get a “day off,” it’s just that he was conditioned not to. He learned to live without doing so.

“You aight?” Soap asks, standing behind Ghost.

His eyes greeted by another pair owned by one dear to him, Soap looks down on Ghost giving a soft concerning look.

“Sorry,” Ghost sighs.

Soap replies with a hum through pieced lips, a habit he recently picked up and one that Ghost loves. Soap sits next to Ghost, placing a hand on Ghost’s tapping leg in an attempt to stop it.

Soap is patient, he understands it’s hard to adjust to a normal civilian life and he’s mentally prepared himself to guide Ghost through all of it, afterall he himself knows old habits die hard.

So it comes as a surprise to both of them when Ghost holds his hand out for Soap to grab, Ghost realizing that this is now ingrained to his very being, something he would be doing for years to come.

That thought felt nice.

When Soap took it, they held tight until every nook and corner touched, until no light could ever see the palms of their hand. The two held with the intention of never letting go, afraid that the love inside would slip out.

For now Ghost doubts his mind, his eyes, trusting only Soap’s hands.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Donnie US Marshall revenge 🤭

Well gaddam, my babes! So many of you asked for it that I've decided to just give you what I've got. 😆 Thank you @discoscoob , @scarlettspectra , and the lovely Nonnie who asked!

warnings: mention past underage abuse, domestic abuse, mention police violence (this is a donnie fic, i assume you're not faint of heart here) Not a pro-Donnie fic.

You have to go back to your small town for the first time since you graduated high school, to bury your mother. 

The first time Donnie Barksdale grabbed your ass, you were just 15. It was the first time he hit you too, because you were so startled you dumped hot fried chicken in his lap. He was your mom’s boyfriend, and he seemed to think that meant you came in the deal too.

There were times back then when you hated Donnie, and other times not so much. Like when he was kinda sweet, and would bring you a candy bar from the gas station, and you wished he wasn't so good looking because you knew what he was really like when he started drinking. 

It was hard to understand why your mama put up with him, the way he whooped on her. He didn’t have a job and didn’t do anything around the house. You supposed Donnie’s knowledge of the location of the clitoris put him in high demand in your small town. It also didn't hurt that he was good looking as the devil himself, with a silver tongue to match.

After the funeral, you find that night being alone in the house where you grew up unsettles you. You decide to put on jeans and an oversize flannel– to hide the Glock at the small of your back. You put your badge in your pocket, not on your belt, and head to the local watering hole. 

You sit by yourself for half an hour, nursing a vodka cranberry and watching the room out the corner of your eye, when he walks in. Tall and handsome as ever, shaggy in that mountain man way that still does not fail to make your treacherous pussy flutter, even while your head absolutely screams ‘danger!’ 

The sight of him just does something to you. Something unholy.

You’re not fifteen anymore, you have to remind yourself. He can’t bully you anymore, the way he’s bullied every woman in this town. 

He glances your way, that sly sideways look that always reminded you of a lion on the plain. You know he recognizes you, from the way he pauses, but he goes to join his friends by the pool table who are already 3 sheets to the wind.

It takes about half an hour for him to strut over to you, taking the bar stool on your left like you’re old friends, and you don't remember what it was like to take his fist to the side of your face when you were still practically a child. “Well, well. As I live and breathe. Y/n’s finally come home.” 

“Just here to bury Mama.” 

“Heard about that. Sorry.” 

You look him over. Your mother wasn’t much older than him, but drugs and alcohol had practically withered her to a husk until the last fix took her. Somehow, he looks fine as ever. Maybe he made a deal with the devil. 

Maybe he is the devil.

“Thanks.” 

You know he doesn’t mean it a lick. He was always more interested in her government draw check than your mother herself. Having a teenage girl at home didn’t hurt either. 

You’d just turned sixteen, when he took your virginity in his truck at the county fair. He’d been on the edge of thirty. 

You can hardly believe the balls on this man, when he pulls you in close with those long legs tangled in your barstool. 

“How long you gonna be in town?” 

“Just till tomorrow.” 

“Aww, that ain’t no time at all. You should stick around, sugar. Remember the fun we used to have?” 

It’s almost amusing to banter with him here, where you’re safe in a crowded room–and you’re armed. 

“I was a child then, Donnie. I’m a woman now.” 

He looks you up and down with those dark eyes that always could light a fire in your loins. 

“Honey, I noticed. So what you been doin’ with yourself out in the big world? Heard you run off to join the army or some shit.” 

He takes a sip of beer, and you clench your jaw. 

“Marines, actually.” 

He whistles at that. “Damn girl. You always were a tough cookie.” He leans in a little closer. “You ever think about me on a lonely night?” 

“I dream about you all the time,” you admit, and your heart has started pounding in your chest. You do not mention that he is the star of your nightmares. 

He gets that sly look that makes him look like a handsome snake. “Baby girl, do tell.” 

“I dream about giving you a set of bracelets.”

He looks puzzled at that, and you suppress the urge to laugh. “Huh?”

“Steel ones.” 

The look on his face is worth his weight in gold, when you take your badge from your pocket and set it on the bar between you. The silver star gleams in the low light, the embossed text proclaiming in a circle, UNITED STATES MARSHAL. 

You’ve never seen Donnie Barksdale look scared before. You never knew it could feel this good. 

“Are you threatening me?” 

“Not yet. But what’s the sentence for statutory rape in Georgia? 20 years? You should probably leave me the fuck alone now.” 

It’s possible this is the first time in his life that he’s been dismissed by a woman, and you can see in his eyes that he does not like it. 

“Go on,” you egg him further, wiggling your fingers. “Shoo.” 

He’s had enough to drink that he thinks it’s a good idea to grab you. But you’ve paid attention this whole time to the way he’s sitting on the edge of his stool, and it takes one good kick to send it out from under him, and Donnie sprawling on his back on the floor. Before he’s even pushed up on his elbows with murder in his eyes you are on your feet, and the Glock has materialized in your hand. 

“You crazy bitch!”

“Motherfucker, did you think we were going to arm wrestle?” He juts those bottom teeth, grinding them back and forth the way he does when he’s really seeing red. You remember that look, and you realize a part of you hopes he’ll do something stupid. 

“Second in my class at Glencoe, Donnie. You wanna try it?” 

Though you know it kills him to do so, he lays back down, his head thunking on the wooden floor. “No ma’am,” he growls.

“Good.” 

The whole room has gone quiet, staring at the two of you. The only sound is Waylon over the sound system, belting out about how there ain’t no good in an evil hearted woman. 

You have a theory now that most every bad woman has had a worse man that drove them to it.    

You lower your voice, even though you’re sure most everyone is straining to hear. “You wanna know what I learned out in the big world, Donnie?” You pause, but he gives no answer. “I learned there’s a whole ocean out there, and you are just one fucked up little fish in a tiny fucked up pond. Go to hell.” 

You throw some cash on the bar, and you leave, knowing you’ll be seeing him sooner than later. The whole town will have heard about this by noon tomorrow, and a man with an ego like Donnie Barksdale’s can’t let it slide. 

You’ll be ready. No man was ever more worth the paperwork for a justified homicide, than Donnie Barksdale.

[ctimenefic]

incredibly Intrigued with your second entry in the What if george russell was cruel and mean list!! i looooved imperator could i get a snippet or maybe something about this second entry 🥺

Ooooh yes nonny you may! This WIP is unfortunately sitting in the proving drawer at the moment in the hopes that it will somehow double in size without me having to do anything, but it is essentially a James Bond AU where Alex, frontline agent for His Majesty's Government, finds his missions going sideways and his comms interrupted by scathing criticism from his dead former partner. A man he watched die.

Then things get, unsurprisingly, worse.

(This one is some way from completion, sorry nonny. But I'm pretty sure one of my halloween fest fics should qualify for the cruel and mean George category I have come to love so much, if that's any consolation.)

Snippet from what little I do have written of The Name's Bon, Al-bon (I promise that's just the stupid Gdocs title) under the cut

There’s still blood bubbling out between his fingers when the message comes. Horner’s cursing in his ear, telling him to switch extraction point asap, even though Alex has taken down the two who caught him off-guard and they’ve politely finished dying. Headshots will do that. They weren’t so kind to Paul though, and his throat is still working under Alex’s palm against the warmth pouring into his stomach. 

It’s only the thought that letting him bleed out faster is a kindness at this point that persuades Alex to lift the pressure. He takes one of Paul’s hands in his own and squeezes. Clinical. Kind. Exceptionally selfish. It’s a particular skill he’s honed. Comforting the dying just enough to comfort himself. 

Horner’s swearing cuts off for a split second of silence that makes the hairs on the back of his neck lift, though he’s still secure in his exits. There’s a soft, low whistle on the fresh feed, and then:

“Crikey, bit of a mess there, Albono.”

Alex’s right hand spasms around his Glock. 

You can fake anything now, with enough raw material. Five minutes of audio, one of the techs had told him once, far too much enthusiasm in her voice, and she could sack half the Cabinet in the clear Harrovian tone of whichever prick they’d put in No 10 that month.  

They’d had George for three days before he died. They’d had cameras. They had five minutes, easy. 

Still, some animal part of him can’t recognise what he already knows. He should cut the line for being compromised, but he can’t bring his hand up all the way, caught on the too-loud breathing in his ear. 

“Silent treatment? Wearing a bit thin, mate.” 

It’s not quite right, the voice. Too smooth, Norfolk rock knocked off at the corners. Lower, too, like George is- was- older. Than he had been. But the words, the cadence - that’s good. Well-produced. Alex forces himself to think through the talent behind it, the intent and the work, as he takes the stairs three at a time. There’s a clatter below as the Hungarians make it through the back entrance and the hasty barricade the students had piled up before the gas got them. 

“Tough day at the office, I guess. I thought you’d be better at this by now.”

[sooniessoulmate]

𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝚌𝚑.𝟻 - 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝟶𝚝𝟾

♥️𝚌𝚑.𝟺 ♠️ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚌𝚑.𝟼♣️

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟻 - 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜

Wooyoung pulled Y/N into his bedroom and slammed the door behind them. He walked over to the closet, grabbing a sweatshirt and then retrieving a pair of sweatpants from the dresser. He glared at Y/N before throwing the clothing in her direction.

“Go get that fucking blood off of you and get dressed,” Wooyoung growled.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N started as she grabbed the clothing that was thrown at her.

“GOOOOOO” Wooyoung yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened, she didn’t dare to say another word as she exited the bedroom, going into the bathroom for a quick shower. Y/N locked the bathroom door behind her, knowing that locking the door doesn’t actually prevent anyone from entering, however, she still took that extra precaution for a little peace of mind.

Y/N turned the shower on, got undressed and entered the shower. She took the fastest shower that she could, not wanting to make Wooyoung even more angry for taking too long. After her shower, she put the new clothing on, gathered up the dirty clothing that she was wearing, and returned to Wooyoung’s bedroom. She slowly turned the door knob and opened the door, expecting to see him sitting at the desk, cleaning one of his many weapons like he was doing the previous night that she showered. To her dismay, the room was dark and Wooyoung appeared to already be laying in his bed. Y/N quietly closed the door behind her, she placed the dirty clothing in the corner of the room with the other dirty clothing that she was wearing the night she arrived, and she crawled into bed, careful not to disturb her angry captor. 

Y/N faced away from Wooyoung and pulled the covers up over herself. She closed her eyes, trying to find some peace, unsuccessfully. She didn’t like the fact that Wooyoung was as angry with her as he was.  But, she also didn’t understand why this bothered her as much as it did.  

She layed restless for the majority of the night, unable to sleep, but peacefully listened to Wooyoung’s breathing. She couldn’t help but smile when Wooyoung let out a slight moan as he rolled over, pressing his body against hers. She laid like that, her eyes becoming heavy and she fell into a deep slumber.

A few hours later, Wooyoung slowly opened his eyes and felt Y/N’s body pressed against his. He reached out and placed an arm onto her, until reality set in. His eyes got wide and he removed his arm as quickly as he placed it on her. He looked over at his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. Since it was 4:55 in the morning, he figured he would get up and start his day. 

Wooyoung crawled out of bed, got dressed and quietly left the bedroom without disturbing Y/N. He walked down the stairs and then down the other set of stairs in the back of the house. He walked through the den and went into the indoor shooting range, the only place that brings him any kind of serenity. 

Wooyoung grabbed his Glock G17 9MM out of a cabinet and put on earmuffs and goggles and walked over to the firing lane. He took aim at a target and began shooting.

He was finally able to gain some tranquility and could clear his mind. After a few hours of shooting, he placed his Glock back into the cabinet and left the shooting range.

The morning sun was shining through the windows onto Y/N, who was peacefully sleeping. She slowly opened her eyes, stretching and looking around. Surprisingly, disappointed when she realized Wooyoung was no longer in bed with her. She Rubbed her face with her hands and pushed the covers off of her.  She slowly crawled out of bed and walked out of the room. She made her way downstairs and went into the kitchen, seeing no one else along the way. She opened the refrigerator looking for something quick to eat.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” a man’s voice said from behind her.

Y/N jumped, quickly turning around, surprised that she didn’t recognize the man standing before her.

“Who are you?” Y/N asked with concern in her voice.

“I’m Minghao,” he responded, “and you must be the lovely Y/N that I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yea I’m her,” Y/N hesitantly responded. “I’m sorry but I have no idea who you are.”

“That’s ok, darling,” Minghao smiled. “But now that we met, I can guarantee that you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond so she just smiled then turned back to the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of orange juice and placed it onto the counter. She then started opening cabinets, looking for glassware to use.

“Do you live here too?” Y/N wondered.

“No,” Minghao said. “I’m just visiting.”

“By choice?” she asked.

“Of course by choice,” Minghao snapped. 

“Are you bothering my personal guest?” Seonghwa asked, walking into the kitchen.

Y/N examined both of the men while raising an eyebrow, “Ooooh I get it, this is your boyfriend,” she said.

Minghao bursted into laughter as Seonghwa defensively said, “No, we are not boyfriends!”

“So he’s just your lover?” Y/N inquired. “Hey whatever works for you guys. I never liked titles either.”

“I am not gay!” Seonghwa snapped.

“Ok ok, you’re not gay,” Y/N smiled turning around to continue to search for a glass. “Would you say you’re bisexual then?”

Seonghwa walked over behind Y/N, placing his hands around her waist. He leaned his face down so he could whisper into her ear, “do you need to prove to you how straight I actually am?” 

Y/N shivered when she felt Seonghwa’s breath touch her ear, “and how exactly do you want to prove that?” she smirked.

“Seonghwa, you gotta see this,” Mingi yelled running into the kitchen. “There’s something on the news about the shit from last night.”

Seonghwa released Y/N and they all followed Mingi out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The television was already on and most of the other guys were already in the living room watching the news.

News anchorman: “This morning the bodies of two men were discovered in an alleyway in Daegu. They were identified as Kim Woojin and Shin Hoseok. Kim Woojin appeared to be disemboweled and Shin Hoseok was executed by some kind of assault rifle. It appears to be gang related and police will continue their investigation into these events. If you have any information that could assist with the investigation please contact your local police agency. Stay tuned for more information.”

Seonghwa turned to San, “I thought you said, only Hoseok was there.”

“Yea that’s all that was there,” San argued. “Woo killed him then we left.”

“Why would Seven kill one of their own?” Mingi wondered.

“Probably to prove a point,” Y/N interjected. 

Jongho glared at her, “who told you that you may speak?” he asked.

“I’m a human, I don’t need permission to speak,” Y/N snapped.

“Stop it, Jongho,” Seonghwa ordered. “What do you mean it was done to prove a point?”

“Well I’m just saying, maybe Woojin was supposed to be there too and he was blamed for Hoseok’s failure in obtaining me,” Y/N suggested.

“That actually makes sense,” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, looking at Y/N. 

“I’m not as stupid as you thought I was,” Y/N smirked at Hongjoong.

“I never said you were stupid, you just have bad luck when thinking,” he smiled looking away.

Wooyoung entered the room, “what’s going on?” 

“Can they trace the bullets back to you?” Seonghwa asked.

“What?” Wooyoung wondered, confused. “Who?”

“Last night, did you use your ‘Devil’ bullets last night?” San elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Wooyoung smiled, proudly. “That’s my signature.”

“You fucking idiot,” Yeosang snapped.

“What did you call me?” Wooyoung gasped as a red glint flashed through his eyes.

“If the fucking shoe fits, wear it,” Yeosang retorted not intimidated in the least.

“They still don’t know who the Devil is,” Yunho pointed out.

“True but when they figure it out, they’ll be able to pin another murder on him,” San argued.

“That seems like a problem for another day,” Hongjoong announced.

“This is serious,” Seonghwa snapped. “They're gonna give this investigation their all since it is out in the media now.”

“Seven will probably do what they always do and kill the lead detectives on this one, since they are responsible for one of the murders themselves and don’t want it to get traced back to them,” Y/N said.

Everyone turned to look at her, surprised by the revelation.  

“How do you know so much about them?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know, I just know stuff,” Y/N sighed. “I really wish I could give you a better answer but I can’t.”

“If Seven was behind this then they must know we have Y/N again,” Wooyoung interrupted.

“They’re probably going to come here for her again,” Mingi added.

“And when they do, we will be ready,” Seonghwa smiled.

“I need to do something too,” Y/N demanded. “I can’t just wait like a sitting duck.”

“Ok,” Seonghwa smiled, “we’ll train you. San, you’re responsible for her fighting skills and Wooyoung, you can handle target practice.”

“What am I gonna do?” Yunho asked, disappointed that he was left out.

“You can teach her knife throwing,” Seonghwa said.

Yunho smiled at Y/N creepily, “oooh we’re going to have so much fun.”

“The training starts now,” San said standing up.

“Not yet,” Seonghwa announced. “We have some business to handle first.”

San sat back down on the sofa, slightly disappointed.

“As you all know, I brought a guest back with me,” Seonghwa started. “Have you all met Minghao?”

“That’s his boyfriend,” Y/N stated.

Everyone turned to look at her with wide eyes, shocked that she dared to say a comment like that.

Seonghwa snarled but before he had time to respond, Minghao spoke up, “oh honey, if he was my lover, he would never want to leave the bedroom.”

“I get that,” Y/N smiled at the response.

“Anyways, this is Minghao,” Seonghwa announced. “His family owns one of the largest arms dealers in China and we are discussing the options of expanding our arsonal.”

Yunho lit up with excitement, “So we’re getting new toys?”

“Possibly,” Seonghwa nodded while making eye contact with Minghao signaling for him to take over.

Minghao stood up and retrieved a stack of manila folders. He handed each boy a folder that had their name written on the tab on top. The boys immediately opened their personalized folders.

“Inside are a few options that Seonghwa and I were discussing for each of you. I included specific details on the weapon itself along with the care and uptake for each item. I would like to hear opinions after you have a chance to review your folders and we can go from there.”

“A-M20,” Yunho read out loud, “a fucking submachine gun!”

“Oh god,” Y/N sighed. “Should I be worried?”

Yunho looked up from his folder to make eye contact with Y/N and slowly nodded his head with wide eyes and a creepily evil smile on his lips.

“So if you have questions, feel free to ask me anything,” Minghao continued.

“I have a question,” Yunho blurted out. “When will my new toys be here?”

“Yunho!” Seonghwa snarled. “Calm down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited,” Yunho explained looking back down at the different weapons listed in his folder.  

“Alright guys,” Seonghwa smiled. “You have one week to look thoroughly through everything in your folders and we’ll discuss more later.”

“Are we excused?” Hongjoong asked, clearly uninterested.

“Is this boring you?” Jongho wondered, glaring at Hongjoong.

“I mean, I have other matters to attend to,” Hongjoong announced.

“Go,” Seonghwa snapped. 

San smiled standing up, he grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her up to a standing position.

“Come, little girl, training is in session,” San smirked, walking out of the room.

Y/N followed San down the stairs located in the back of the mansion. They walked through the den and entered a room at the end of a hall. Inside the room was some weight lifting equipment, a few heavy bags, some speed bags, focus training equipment, gym gloves, hand wraps, cardio equipment, and a boxing ring.

San climbed inside the boxing ring and turned around to look at Y/N. “Come on,” he said, waving her to climb inside.

“I don’t know about this,” she hesitated while climbing the ring.

“I’m not going to take it easy on you either,” San proclaimed, “Just because you’re a girl.”

“I don’t want you to take it easy on me,” Y/N snapped. “Being a girl has nothing to do with anything.”

San smiled, reaching out and grabbed onto Y/N’s shirt, aggressively. “I want to see what you got,” he said.

She moved in closer to San, staring into his eyes, she placed her foot close to his, grabbed him by the shirt pushing him backwards, then swept her leg around and behind his ankle, pushing at the same time. San lost his balance and fell backwards onto the mat.

San looked up at Y/N with a slight smile of approval on his face, “not bad,” he said.

San and Y/N continued to spar for the next few hours, taking a few breaks in between to talk and rest.

“Alright, I guess that’s enough for the day,” San said. 

“Did I do ok?” she asked.

“Yea not too bad, especially for your first day of training,” San smiled. “Did you have any form of training before?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “no training at all.”

“You did exceptional then,” San smirked. “You’re really picking things up quickly but you still need a lot more training.”

San was leaning against a wall wiping his face with a white towel. After he was done he threw the towel into a pile of dirty towels in the corner of the gym.

Y/N walked over to San and stared into his eyes, she brought her right hand up to San’s face and rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

“That towel must not have been cleaned, you had something black on your face,” Y/N explained. 

San continued to stare into her eyes, he slowly leaned in towards her, closing his eyes. She smirked and kissed San on the cheek, “thanks for everything, I really appreciate it,” she said.

Y/N quickly turned around and ran out of the gym leaving San behind, flabbergasted.

♥️♠️Later that evening♦️♣️

Wooyoung left the shooting range and headed up to his bedroom. He walked inside his room and saw Y/N sitting on his bed. She smiled as he walked in but he didn’t respond. He walked over and sat down at his desk and began taking his 9MM apart to clean.

Y/N sat up, facing him, “why haven’t you talked to me all day?” she asked.

Wooyoung didn’t respond, he didn’t even look in her direction.

“I’m so sorry, Woo,” Y/N sighed. “Please just talk to me.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” he snarled. 

“Why are you being like this?”Y/N asked.

Wooyoung slammed the gun down onto the desk and spun around in his chair, “you let me down. Now I can never trust you again.”

“I said I’m sorry,” she pleaded.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Wooyoung glared.

“I was trying to save your life,” Y/N said, looking down at the ground.

“What bullshit is that?” Wooyoung growled.

“They're not going to stop,” Y/N teared up. “They’re going to keep coming and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Wooyoung stared at Y/N blankly for a moment, evaluating her expressions, trying to sense if she’s being honest. He stood up and walked to the window to look outside without saying anything.

Y/N slowly walked up behind him, placing a hand on his upper arm. “Please, I don’t think I can handle you being mad at me any longer,” she pleaded.

A white glint flashed through his eyes, shortly followed by a glint of red. He quickly turned around grabbing y/n by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. He got inches from her face. She could feel Wooyoung’s hot breath stinging her lips. “Is this what you fucking want?” he asked.

Y/N’s breathing became more intense as she stood still staring into his eyes. 

“Tell me, Y/N, is this what you want to happen?” Wooyoung snarled again.

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, mainly because she didn’t know the answer to the question. A part of her wanted it, more than she wanted to admit. And the other part didn’t. She was fearful of the feelings she was having and didn’t fully understand them. Therefore, she just continued to stare, intently.

“ANSWER ME!” Wooyoung yelled. He backed up and punched the wall, missing Y/N’s head only by a few inches, “DAMN IT!!!”

He turned around, kicked the chair over, and stormed out of the room leaving Y/N alone in the bedroom, dazed.

♥️𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟 ♠️𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝♣️

♥️♠️𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽♦️♣️

@stayatinykatsy

[yes-divine-ruler]

𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐒

Part 4

pairing: kai anderson x fem!reader

Taglist/ @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud @laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence @simp4petermaximoff f @sultrysullen @evan4ever @paujmr @jangsuzchap

cw: dub-con, knife play, home invasion, vaginal sex, bondage

wc: 2.734k

all parts

Kai was cleaning his mask when Ivy walked in. She eyed him, seeing the combat boots on his feet, the black trench coat over his back, his hair long and draped around his face. She knew that that meant business, and that business was going to be carried out tonight.

"What's on tonight Kai?" Ivy asked quietly, scared to catch Kai at a bad time.

"We spoke about this a few hours ago, where were you by the way? It was an important meeting," Kai couldn't let the tardiness of one of his cult members distract him from his upcoming mission, he kept his eyes on his mask as he wiped it clean.

"I'm sorry Kai, I had to pick up Ozzy from school, I told Winter, I dont know if she told you," truth was, Ivy was at the Butchery on Main, catching you up on the plan for tonight.

"Don't do it again," Kai grumbled, finally settling his mask down on the table and getting up from his seat on the sofa. His boots thumped against the floor as he approached Ivy, looming over her like a dark, menacing shadow.

"You know what happens when someone snitches, don't you Ivy? When someone betrays me?"

Kai's tone suddenly switched, and his eyes shone darker.

Ivy swallowed thickly, not breaking eye contact in case it made her look as guilty as she felt. She nodded curtly, "yes, Divine Ruler," her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"Good," Kai's face lights up into a smile, and he places a warm hand on Ivy's cheek, "get ready, we're leaving in 20."

Ivy let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding in as her leader ascended the basement stairs behind her, knowing that to his knowledge, she was still a devoted follower and not someone who was trying to sabotage him.

You thought that if your heart beat any faster, you might fall into cardiac arrest. You had a glock-19 shoved into the waistband of your pants, and a knife strapped to your thigh. You weren't taking any chances tonight knowing what was about to come. You knew that Kai had taken this upon himself to do, and that it would be you versus him when he barged in through your front door at 1 am on the dot.

The clock ticked agonisingly slow, showing that the time was only 45 minutes past midnight. No amount of preparation would ever have you prepared for your alleged murder, nor more time. Your knee shook in a frenzied fashion and your hands that were clasped together in your lap began to drip with sweat. You'd practiced this, Kai's break in, Kai confronting you, Kai pulling the knife from behind his back. This particular scenario played over and over in your head like a broken record.

You were shaken from your thoughts when the phone rang. You watched it from the corner of your eye as it rung - 1,2,3 - times, just like you'd discussed with Ivy. He was downstairs.

Sucking in a deep breath and reaching for your adderall, you popped more than your recommended dose and swallowed it with a glass of water. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and stood from your seat. The heavy thud of boots reverberated off the walls in the hallway leading up to your apartment, and soon, there was a slow knock on your front door. Your hand shook as your fingers hooked around the trigger and grip of the glock rested against your hip. There was no turning and running now.

You stayed put, trying to even your breathing as another loud trio of knocks rung through your apartment.

"I know you're in there, I just wanna talk," the sound of Kai's voice sent a shiver down your spine. Who was he kidding, talk? You still questioned where he got your address to begin with knowing fair well it wasn't public information. The questions you were asking yourself would have to wait; there was a much bigger matter at hand.

"Come on baby, don't be like this. I'm sorry for leaking our sex tape," Kai continued to taunt you through the wooden panes of your front door, every minute you weren't face to face with him sparing you yours or his life.

“If it’s any consolation, you were the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of sex,” Kai spoke, followed by a tapping on the door with what seemed to be not his hand anymore, but something metal. It made your blood run cold.

When was he going to knock down the door so you could just end him? The sweat that beaded against your forehead began to drip onto your eyelashes, and your hands only shook more vigorously. Your eyes were glazing over in fear and soon you were worried a tear would fall.

“Let me in pretty, come on, it’s just me,” Kai didn’t let off, and it provoked words to spill from your throat.

“Fuck off Kai!” You covered your mouth with your shaking hand.

It goes silent, the only noise your heart feverishly beating in your ears. You wondered for a moment if he was still standing at your front door. Holding your breath, you tip-toe to the eye hole, and peek through it. No one. Your eye stays trained on the tiny glass pane for a few more minutes, before you finally let out your breath. Your body relaxes, and your fingers unwind from its tight grasp on your glock.

You wonder what made him change his mind while also wondering if he’s just playing games with you. What if he was just ducking out of sight? What if he was coming through your balcony? Your mind whirled with thoughts, so much so, you decided you’d just open the door and check for yourself.

You didn’t have time to scream, because a big hand wrapped itself around your mouth and pulled you back in through the ajar door into your apartment. Your eyes squeezed shut in fright; hot breath fanning your ear from behind you.

“You’re such a dumb bitch, did you really think I wouldn’t know? Didn’t think I’d see all the undercover cops waiting outside?” Kai’s angry tone coursed through your body and settles in the pit of your stomach.

You try and struggle out of his grip, your hands coming up to pry at his around your mouth. He fights back, pulling you down onto the floor and straddling your hips so that you can’t get away. The moment is tense, and soon you feel the cool metal that was knocking at your door against your throat.

“Make a fucking sound and I’ll slit your throat,” your eyes open to peer into the dark orbs belonging to Kai, his jaw locked and his lips in a tight straight line. Your eyes remain wide in shock, as he removes his hand for only a moment, bringing it back just as fast with a piece of duct tape.

He works at your wrists next, pulling rope from a backpack and bounding your wrists together. You don’t fight against him, knowing that you had now, definitely lost. What in your mind convinced you you could beat the master in mind games and trickery?

“Now,” he moves down your legs, bounding together your ankles. Nothing had ever made you feel more suffocated, “you’re going to call the cops and say it’s a false alarm, and I’m going to watch you with this knife against your throat.”

If your lips could move you’d be sobbing, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision as Kai gets off you to search for your mobile. He finds it almost instantly, and settles back down on top of you, the knife once again strategically placed at your jugular.

“The tape is coming off now,” Kai warns you, before ripping the tape from your lips. You gasp in pain and wonder if your skin had been taken with the tape.

Kai holds your phone up to your face, and unlocks it in an instant. He scrolls through what you suppose is your text messages, until his face lights up with content. He calls the number, and puts your phone on speaker. So badly did you want to scream for help, but ultimately you knew it would be the cause of your demise with the sharp blade already slightly piercing your skin.

“Everything okay?” Detective Wilson asks.

“Ye-yes, um-” Kai advises you to stop stuttering with the reminder that there is a knife to your neck, “I think it’s a false alarm detective, I’m so sorry to bother you, you can all go home.”

The detective pauses for a moment, as if he wasn’t convinced, until Kai urges you to speak again.

“Really, I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Alright miss, please, keep us in the loop.”

The line goes dead, and Kai immediately tosses your phone across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a loud crack.

“Now, tell me who my mole is.”

You suspected that Kai may already know who his mole was, if he was intelligent enough to work out you knew his plan. You restrained from saying anything, scared that it would cost another’s life. Right now, if he was to only take yours, at least everyone would know who did it.

“Just kill me instead, I know that’s what you really want,” you couldn’t believe those words were coming out of your mouth.

Kai’s facial expression remains unwavering, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, and his lips slightly parted with the exhale of small breaths.

Kai knew he didn’t want this. There was always something about you that attracted him to you, regardless of how different you were in every way. You weren’t scared of him, and were willing to kill another person to protect yourself. He admired your planning, your use of a mole from his cult, how you’d defended yourself after the sex tape was leaked. You were strong, and nobody could try and convince him otherwise.

He drops the knife and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Then he kisses you.

You’re still tied by the wrists and the ankles, but even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t try and move away. He had just tried to kill you, but you were still like putty in his hands. He was mean, condescending, downright evil, but the way his lips moved against yours sent butterflies free to fly around your stomach.

Maybe something inside you knew he wouldn’t go through with it, hence why you were so compliant. His lips felt like velvet against yours, his tongue soon to delve its way into your open and begging mouth. His big, warm hands cupped your cheeks, and when he finally pulled away, you didn’t want him to stop.

“What was that for?” Suddenly the adrenaline had worn off, and you were left wondering what all of this meant. His hands didn’t leave your face as he peered down into your soul.

“You need to admit to me who the mole is,” he spoke softly, and you noticed something glisten in his usually stone-cold eyes.

“Why would I tell you?” You fought back, but your voice was only just louder than a whisper.

“Do you want to stay tied up while I fuck you?”

The question startled you, but you didn’t have time to respond before Kai’s mouth was back on yours. He tilted his head to get better access to you, his dick twitching in his pants when he hears the moans vibrate from the back of your throat.

Every time you slept with Kai it felt like the circumstances couldn’t get any worse, but this definitely took the cake. His mouth felt warm and tasted like the smallest but perfect hint of mint toothpaste. His tongue slid over yours, massaging it softly, and when it was all becoming too much for him, he stopped. He needed to feel you again.

“Keep me tied up,” your mind was just as clouded by lust as his was, almost as if this totally fucked up situation never happened. Almost as if you were two people who weren’t at war with each other.

Kai chuckled, before reaching for the glock at your hip. He’d felt it pressed against his inner thigh this whole time but chose to ignore it; it wasn’t like you could do anything with it anyway. He tossed it to the side before checking if the safety was on, and then tore your pants down your legs.

When the cold air hit your skin, it pricked in small goosebumps. Kai ran his fingers down the length of your thighs, immersed in the way they looked and felt, like they were the most perfect things to exist. He left the knife strapped to your thigh when he rolled you over onto your stomach, and sucked in a breath when he saw the perfection of your ass.

You wiggled, and the tip of the knife pricked your thigh. It wasn’t painful, it actually felt good knowing now what was about to happen. Kai used his own knife to slice your panties down the middle and tear them off.

“How bad do you want it?” Kai was back to taunting you, your cheek pressed against the carpet of your living room floor as you heard his zipper unfasten.

“Please,” you pleaded, wanting to forget about everything else and feel him inside you.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Kai.”

You gasped at the feeling of Kai’s spit, as it landed directly on your cunt and dripped down onto your clit. He worked fast, reaching for your sensitive bud and toying with it between his fingers. You couldn’t hold back the pathetic whimpers as they forced their way out your lips.

The engorged tip of his cock was next, and all you could imagine was the veiny length and the way it pulsed in need. You were beginning to clench around nothing, until he finally sunk into you after spreading your pussy from behind.

He didn’t go easy, bottoming out inside you and groaning at how good it felt. His moans were like music to your ears now that the loud thumping of your heart had gone away. Your clit brushed against the carpet with every ravaging thrust, Kai’s skin hitting yours and making a blissful beat.

“Fuck,” Kai muttered, totally consumed by you and your sounds, loving the way you were tied up and at his disposal. You let out small whimpers, feeling the head of his cock almost brush your cervix with every piston of his hips.

“Oh my god that feels so good,” you almost cried, the way he was fucking you reaching every point you needed it to. No one had ever fucked you like this, or maybe it was all the danger mixed with the undeniable sexual tension.

“Your pussy feels amazing,” you’d never heard a nice thing come out of Kai’s mouth, but tonight he was full of compliments, “you get me so riled up, I can’t contain it.”

He was close, but he just wanted to fuck you forever. You were sure to be bleeding from your thigh now, but the thought didn’t stop the twist of an orgasm in your groin.

“Please Kai, I’m gonna cum,” you almost cried, tilting your hips upwards to feel the hit of his cock against your sweet spot. It unravelled you, releasing around his cock and clenching so tightly it made Kai lose control and come undone.

He pulled out, and spilled his cum across the perfect planes of your ass. You both panted in an attempt to get your breath back, and when his were finally even, he turned you back onto your back.

You looked up at him and he almost came again. You watched his cock as it leaked the remanence of his last load, swollen and pink in the best way possible.

“I’m going to fuck you, again and again, until you give in and tell me who the mole is,” Kai’s face showed he was serious, but his eyes glinted with a playfulness you could definitely get used to. Sensitive and fucked out, all you could do was nod.

[mangoshorthand]

Arrow of Time: Chapter 4 [Five Hargreeves/ F Reader]

(Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there?

On to Chapter 5 >> << Back to Chapter 3

Five makes plans to rescue you, but it's been far longer for you than for him.

Chapter 4: At Home With Reginald Hargreeves

Five chose a Glock 19 and filled his jacket pockets with as many spare pre-loaded magazines as he could carry. At 33 rounds each, he prepared to leave sitting on a respectable level of firepower; he just hoped he wouldn’t need it .With any luck, he thought, he’d arrive in something like the early 2000s and she’d be there waiting for him. He hoped for the best but prepared for the worst.

The heavy coat was a just-in-case choice. He knew from bitter experience: a decent coat was worth its weight in gold if you were stuck in some wasteland away from people. On the off-chance that Five wouldn’t be stuck in some wasteland away from people, some of Reginald’s gold antiques could be easily sold to help him get by. While Five was in the armory, Diego had searched him out a spyglass, what looked like a snuff-box and a pocket watch, all in gold or gold and enamel. 

“That should keep you going, hermano,” he said, giving Five’s shoulder a squeeze. Apparently, he’d chosen to forget Five’s meanness earlier. Despite Five’s favourite taunt, Diego wasn’t dumb: just then, he could see past his brother’s bluster of confident action to the just-veiled panic within. 

“You’ll find her.” he said, reassuringly, “she’ll probably be standing right on a street corner in 1970 or somewhere yelling about how Nixon’s a fascist.”

Five had cracked a smile at this before looking down again at his shoes.

“Diego…I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. And…”, he’d sighed fitfully, indecisively,  “what the hell am I doing? If I go, she could be losing both parents.”

Diego squeezed the hand still on his shoulder. 

“If you don’t go, she could die. We all could. You know it, Five.”

Green eyes met brown as Five looked up.

“If we don’t come back, then-” he couldn’t finish the request, voice squalling as he choked on the words. 

Diego shook his head, laughing softly at the fact Five thought he even had to ask. 

“Like she’s our own. Tu hija es mi hija .”

Five nodded, some of his worry removed and, in a move as rare as it was heartfelt, hugged Diego. They broke apart after much throat-clearing and back-slapping. 

“Come on, Number Two,” Five said then, throwing off gravity with as much irony as he could muster.

Back in the study, Lila was trying her best to extort a smile from Aoife- to keep her relaxed despite Uncle Luther’s grave expression.   

“Honestly, sweetie, that’s got to be the most epic teenage meltdown in history. Whacking your Mum through a rip in time? That’s genius : that’s the stuff of teenage dreams. I just wish I’d thought of it when I was your age.”

As Five and Diego walked in, her father dressed to leave, Aoife began to leak from the eyes again.

The others tactfully averted their eyes as Five beckoned her to him for one final hug, giving them a little privacy .Aoife whispered unintelligible apologies and Five loving reassurance. Though it was mostly in Italian, the tenderness in Five’s voice was enough to let them know that this was for his daughter’s ears alone.

Five tried to put as much as he could into that hug: years of love, guidance and comfort that he might now never be able to give her. 

“ Ti voglio bene. Tua madre ti ama.”

“Dad, I’m sorry!”

“Stai sempre al sicuro, sappi che ti amiamo e comportati bene. Sono orgoglioso e non smetterò mai di esserlo, ok?” 

He held her tight for a few more precious moments before letting her go and stepping backwards. He was nervous or, more accurately, terrified. He hadn’t wanted to suggest that Aoife may not be able to replicate what she did; he didn’t want to plant even a shred of doubt in her mind. He knew it was entirely possible that she wouldn’t be able to send him after his wife but he had to go on pretending: for himself as well as for their daughter.

“Go on, cara,” he said, mustering a grin as if this was just a game of soccer and she was preparing to take a penalty against him, “send me wherever you sent Mom. Just do exactly the same thing.”

“Okay.”

She took a couple of deep breaths and shook out her limbs, bracing herself against the floor.

“That’s my girl.”

She rubbed her hands together and he felt her power up. This was a good start. 

“Come on now,” he encouraged, buoyed himself, “just a big push and we’ll be back before you know it.”

She nodded, fervently, eyes still sparkling with tears. Did she believe him or was she nodding with the force of how much she wanted it to be true? She closed her eyes and sprang at him.

He breached the film-like seal easily. She’d done it: he spiralled into senseless static storm. He fell (or maybe falls?) through time, screwing up his eyes against the turmoil. 

And he lands, amazingly, on his feet. His knees buckle only slightly. Straightening his back, he looks over his shoulder at the tear, watching it disappear in a sag-like collapse. No problem: it’s still there, only invisible.

He hurries out of the alleyway, brain much cooler than he’d imagined it would be, and scans the crowded street for a glimpse of his wife. Nothing. A setback, but only a slight one. He calls her name experimentally. Nothing but a few haughty looks from passers-by. Okay: reconnaissance time.

It’s old-timey times, that much is clear. He doesn’t know much about fashion but if that woman’s hat is anything to go by, it’s certainly pre-20th century. Carriages on the road: definitely 19th century. There’s a chill in the air: so winter, maybe early spring? He’d be thankful for the warm coat were it not attracting so many stares. So where is he? 

He strolls into the street, still scanning the pedestrians for a glimpse of your face. The accents of the passers-by certainly sound American and this is clearly a city, so he decides to work on the assumption that he’s traveled further through time than he has space. Those accents weren’t precisely what he’d expect from local New Yorkers, but he knows enough about linguistic change to know that accents shift over centuries. If these people sound a little more Irish or English or Italian or whatever, it’s to be expected.

He takes off the coat and drapes it over his arm. In exposing his suit, he hopes to look slightly less out of place than he does in the coat with its obviously modern fabrics. At least a suit will be a recognizable garment to these people, even if he’s wearing one that looks completely bizarre to them.

Though Five doesn’t know it, his next move mirrors yours when you arrived here, although he has less care for being polite. Across the street, a man slightly more down-at-heel than the relatively affluent people around him carries a newspaper under his arm. Five blinks across to him, appearing directly in his eyeline and causing him and several others to call out in shock.

“Is that today’s newspaper?” Five says, abruptly. He’s unwilling to tread softly: he wants to find you and get the hell out of here.

The man nods and Five holds out his hand expectantly. He thrusts it towards him and hurries away. Five knows he and the others will already be trying to rationalize what he saw: of course that strangely dressed man didn’t appear out of nowhere, he just stepped out from behind that carriage extremely quickly.

Five shakes out the front page. It’s a copy of the New-York Evening Post, dated March 6th 1831. That answers two questions: yes, he is in the nineteenth century and yes, he is still in New York. But none of this answers the more important question of where the hell his wife is.

Stuffing the newspaper into his back pocket, he blinks back to the alleyway, checking the walls for the hope of some sign: some calling card you might have left. Nothing. 

Hell, is he in the right place? Did Aoife somehow send him somewhere else? He didn’t think it was possible but he would have expected to have seen something by now if you were here. You knew how things went down in Dallas: you knew how he’d had to find his siblings like a trail of more-or-less idiotic breadcrumbs. You’d leave him some way of finding you again, he knew it.

Tracking people down was never a huge part of his skill-set, either when Dad was training them or when working for the Commission. Indeed, the job that had made his name in the Commission, (Paris: 1938) had been notable because he’d had to improvise after being unable to track the target down in time. Nevertheless, he’d had enough experience with it to know how to begin in a situation like this. 

He walks back to the alley where he arrived and puts himself squarely in your shoes. Knowing you almost as well as he knows himself by now, he’s at an advantage: it’s time to reconstruct your first moments here.

You were a first time time-traveler without the aid of a briefcase and his supportive arm…you’d be disorientated. You’d have fallen onto the cobbles. He crouches down, trying to get to the level you’d be at. You’d be scared, obviously. He looks into the sky behind him, where the portal would have just disappeared: you’d be looking for help, looking for him… but clearly he wasn’t there.

Still immersed in your headspace, Five looks around into the street. You’d probably panic, maybe run into the street and cause a stir. People would stare at you like they’d stared at him…except you were in your pajamas and robe: braless and exposed…you probably wouldn’t get much help from people on the street. They’d think you were mad.

His stomach lurches at this. If there’s one thing he knows about the 1830s, it’s that mentally-ill people were not treated well. So that puts asylums firmly on his list, unless he can find a better lead. Shit, a woman on her own in 1831? 

The realization makes him pause, blood running cold; if you’re here, then you’re probably in serious danger. He needs to find you, and quickly. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if you’re here alone for even a few days. He bats away the thoughts for now and returns to his process. 

Vulnerable, unsure where (or when), you were and attracting stares from people dressed like a period drama. He crosses his arms over his chest as you would likely have done, to hide prominent nipples. Inside…you’d want to go inside and get off the street.

He hurries into all the establishments on the street: he blinks from church to pawnbroker and bookstore to butcher: neither the preacher nor the store’s clerks can recall a woman of your description. 

In the pawnbroker, he makes his first mistake. He’s so distracted by first enquiring after you and then selling the antique spyglass that he doesn’t notice something in the window: something that could lead him to you much more quickly. As it is, he walks straight past that item, folding the two hundred and ten dollars he got for the spyglass and placing the notes in his jacket pocket with two of the Glok’s spare clips.

If Five hadn’t been concerned with concealing the ammunition, he might have caught the sparkle of rubies and spotted your engagement ring in the window for sale. 

He’d initially overlooked the Milliner’s shop right beside the alley entrance. When he blinks inside unexpectedly, the two women comparing the shade of ribbon on two bonnets give little screams of surprise.

Ignoring them, Five focuses his attention purely on the shop’s startled proprietor:

“Did a woman come in here? She’d be dressed strangely. In a pair of pajamas and a robe?”

“Pajamas?” said the clerk, clearly not understanding the word.

Five tries to keep his frustration under the surface, “Like a cotton shirt and pants? With a floral pattern and a white robe on top? Probably panicking.”

There’s a spark of something like recognition in her eyes. Her disposition towards him, (already chilly), seems to cool even further on learning of his association with her.

“Yes sir, though it was a long time since.”

“How long?” 

“About a year now, I’d say.”

A year? Five rubs a hand down his face. A year? While he collects himself, the clerk looks him up and down.

“You wouldn’t be her husband, would you?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, heart leaping,

“Yes. What did she say?”

“As I say, it was a long while ago now and I’m afraid I shooed her out right quick. I can’t say I can remember all she said.”

Five leans threateningly over the counter.

“Well, think.”

The shop’s customers behind him whisper among themselves. He ignores them, eyes boring into the clerk’s. She stammers slightly as she responds,

“I didn’t set much store by it. She seemed mad to me, I’m sorry to say. She was raving about being separated from her husband.”

Five tries extremely hard not to snap, “She was separated from her husband. What else?”

She quails under his look, backing up towards the door to the back of the store. 

“S-she said to tell you where she was staying if you came enquiring for her.”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly. Why this woman can’t just get to the point , he has no idea.

“Yes, and where was she staying?”

“At the tavern,” the clerk said, as if this was evidence in itself of his wife’s ill-repute. “The Bull’s Head. It’s a block away and it’s got one or two rooms overhead.”

As the church clock strikes four, Five starts to lose his cool; he found the Bull’s Head and the owner had remembered a woman matching your description stayed a few nights until she could no longer pay and then vanished without a trace. He’d pressed the guy as much as possible, but that’s all he seems to know. Combing the immediate area had also yielded nothing. He has no leads: nothing, zilch.

…and after all the time he spent packing ammunition, he forgot his pills. No Zoloft or Prozac in this time period. He’ll need to go cold turkey.

He’s spent one of his dollars on a night’s room and board on the understanding that he may be staying longer. He’d asked specifically for the room you hired: he doubted it would help, but it makes him feel closer to you somehow. The bed is saggy, the mattress filled with some kind of husk and the thin feather-filled bolster on top does little to compensate. Sure, the room isn’t exactly the Ritz, but Five’s had worse accommodations in his time. He’s spent most of his life without plumbing; at one time, he’d have thought pissing into a chamber pot the height of luxury, and the latrine in the yard out back meant that he at least didn’t have to bury his shit. 

He was used to slumming it, but you weren’t. In your fifteen years together, Five had never known you to be anything other than prissy about your bathroom habits. The reflection made him feel a strange squirm of amusement and pity. How you’d cope in this environment, he had no idea…but you would have adapted; you’d have had to.

Now, he drums his fingers erratically on the bar, drinking beer that tastes like warm piss. He shifts uncomfortably, realizing that he’s sitting on the newspaper still in his back pocket. He’s exhausted all his options for today: it can’t hurt to scour the news for some sort of clue.

He’s surprised by how much of the paper is taken up by advertisements. The entire front page is full of bullshit like: ‘Doctor John Ashton’s most efficacious elixir for relief from ladies monthly courses’ and how ‘Miss S. Campbell is pleased to announce her opening of a store for the wholesale and retail of fine silks and muslins’ but Five scours through them all nevertheless, hopeful for anything, anything at all.

And then, when he gets to the ‘society’ page, his prayers are answered and his worst fears confirmed in one fell swoop:

As the church clock strikes four, Five starts to lose his cool; he found the Bull’s Head and the owner had remembered a woman matching your description stayed a few nights until she could no longer pay and then vanished without a trace. He’d pressed the guy as much as possible, but that’s all he seems to know. Combing the immediate area had also yielded nothing. He has no leads: nothing, zilch.

…and after all the time he spent packing ammunition, he forgot his pills. No Zoloft or Prozac in this time period. He’ll need to go cold turkey.

He’s spent one of his dollars on a night’s room and board on the understanding that he may be staying longer. He’d asked specifically for the room you hired: he doubted it would help, but it makes him feel closer to you somehow. The bed is saggy, the mattress filled with some kind of husk and the thin feather-filled bolster on top does little to compensate. Sure, the room isn’t exactly the Ritz, but Five’s had worse accommodations in his time. He’s spent most of his life without plumbing; at one time, he’d have thought pissing into a chamber pot the height of luxury, and the latrine in the yard out back meant that he at least didn’t have to bury his shit. 

He was used to slumming it, but you weren’t. In your fifteen years together, Five had never known you to be anything other than prissy about your bathroom habits. The reflection made him feel a strange squirm of amusement and pity. How you’d cope in this environment, he had no idea…but you would have adapted; you’d have had to.

Now, he drums his fingers erratically on the bar, drinking beer that tastes like warm piss. He shifts uncomfortably, realizing that he’s sitting on the newspaper still in his back pocket. He’s exhausted all his options for today: it can’t hurt to scour the news for some sort of clue.

He’s surprised by how much of the paper is taken up by advertisements. The entire front page is full of bullshit like: ‘Doctor John Ashton’s most efficacious elixir for relief from ladies monthly courses’ and how ‘Miss S. Campbell is pleased to announce her opening of a store for the wholesale and retail of fine silks and muslins’ but Five scours through them all nevertheless, hopeful for anything, anything at all.

And then, when he gets to the ‘society’ page, his prayers are answered and his worst fears confirmed in one fell swoop:

AT HOME WITH SIR REGINALD HARGREEVES Newcomer to the Manhattan set, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, will be entertaining to a select group of Ladies and Gentlemen on March 9 at his home in LeRoy Place. Though one of the latest of an increasing number of British arriviste, Sir Reginald has made quite the impact on Manhattan society, and is already acquainted with the finest people. The evening will be devoted to music, dancing and social chat and promises to be a most fashionable occasion...

It makes him double-take. He can practically feel the blood draining from his face and into his extremities. Dad? Here? Throwing a party!? It just seems too much of a coincidence to not be significant. And how? How old was he? He knew he’d been around in the 20s, but to be here nearly a century earlier? 

He knows time’s in a fragile state right now, and if there’s one place he shouldn't go, then it’s that party, (the last thing he needs is to kick off another Sparrow Academy scenario), but he also can’t not go to this party. His Dad and his wife, appearing in a timeframe where neither of them had any business being? This wasn’t a coincidence: it simply couldn’t be.

…but he couldn’t just burst in and scream: ‘Hey Dad, where’s my wife and what are you doing here?’ It was essential to travel under Hargreeves’ radar and if he was going to do that, he had to be disciplined. No blinking, no yelling, nothing that could make him stick out. He hoped this ‘select group of ladies and gentlemen’ wasn’t too small so he had half a chance of blending in.

And if he were even to have a quarter of a chance of blending in, he needs to look the part. 

Then, Number Five makes his second mistake: He tears the society page out of the newspaper, folds it and hurries to the bar to ask for the nearest tailors or gentleman’s outfitters.  When he hurries out of the door, he leaves the rest of the newspaper on the table. If he'd kept reading to the personals section, he would have seen something even more useful than the piece about Reginald.

NUMBER FIVE - If a certain gentleman wishes to correspond with an old acquaintance, then he might apply to the editor of this newspaper.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88, @nevillescomslut (sorry for double tag Nev this is just to aid with my creation of the next post!)

On to Chapter 5 >> Masterpost

[ask-the-usa-manor]

Michigan has just discovered that his city Grand Rapids has been running around the country and he has lost him and Ann Arbor. “Help me!” Michigan screamed. “What do you want?” Wyoming asked. “Ann arbor and grand rapids are missing!” He replied. “Oh no.” Indiana said. “How did you get in here?” Michigan and Wyoming asked. “Oh, I went through the door.” Indiana said slowly. *screaming in the hallway* “DAD” all three yelled, “are you okay?” When they emerged in the hall they saw America standing there and Russia in the corner screaming his head off. “Oh, was that Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids?” He whispered. “Yes?” They said. “Is Russia okay?” Michigan went over and hugged him “I’m sorry, are you okay Russia?”. “I-I think so” he said shakily.

“Woah— That is a… piece of fanfiction,” Michigan blinked, reading the piece of paper invisible-hidden handed him, “Interesting.”

America squinted at the page, “Why is Russia in my house?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’d panic if I couldn’t find Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids. They’re adults and can handle themselves. I’d call the police if I felt like they were missing missing, though—”

“Who the hell let Russia in my house?”

“I don’t know why I’d ever hug Russia either,” Michigan shrugged, “Maybe he’s nicer in your version, but right now… Y’know, with Ukraine, how much he hates us, and everything… He’s kind of a di—”

“Did he break in? Are there some illegal activities going on?? Am I allowed to use self defense??? Possibly a glock???”

“…Other than that, nice writing!”

[hotchxreid]

hotch being relieved when he comes home and finds his wife asleep on the couch because he was scared something had happened

HELLO LOVELY ANON THANK YOU

He had texted her that they were wrapping up at the station and would be wheels up in about and hour to come home and he hasn’t received a reply. Which is unusual since his wife usually had her phone nearby, especially when he was away on a case. Aaron felt like a school boy constantly checking his phone for a text from his crush, feeling an all too unpleasant anxiety grow. It started in his stomach. He felt it churn over as he packed up the conference room with the team. He was able to rationalize that maybe you were busy with something, but when he called her to let her know they were on the way to the airstrip and you didn’t answer that he began to full-on worry.

Taking a seat at the back of the plane, he sat and stared out the window, his paperwork that he usually so meticulously fills out on the flight home left forgotten on the table in front of him. He tried calling his wife again to let her know they were about an hour away from landing, and the phone once again rang until the sound of her voicemail filled his ear. For once, he didn’t end the call and instead listened to her warm and bubbly voice announce that she was “unavailable at the moment but will get back to you as soon as possible!” And he really hoped that voice recording was right.

With no text or call back from her by the time they land, Hotch hits the tarmac and doesn’t break stride. “Everyone go home and take the evening off. You’ve worked hard on this case and deserve a break,” he called over his shoulder to his team as he headed straight for their cars. His mind was now whirling with a hundred different scenarios, all good and bad. If they hadn’t gotten rid of their landline (stupid fucking cellphones, he’s definitely going to put one back in the house) than he would have just called to have Jack pick up.

Oh, Jack.

He sped home, only being sure to be mindful of the speed traps and red light cameras he knew were nearby. He parked in their driveway and quietly entered through the front door with one hand on his Glock. It was late now, and Jack and his wife should both be in bed, but the light was on in the den. He keeps forward silently, subtly clearing each room he passed by.

Once he entered the den, he felt his breath catch in his chest. He saw the top of her head laying on the armrest of the couch and quickly braced himself for the worst. As he rounded the couch on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action or collapse to the floor, he saw her.

His beautiful wife was laying on the couch with her hand tucked under her head and a blanket pulled up to her chin. Aaron didn’t shame himself when he felt tears well up in his eyes. He crouched down next to her head and gently pushed her hair back and petting her head. Her pulse best steadily against her neck, drawing Aaron ever closer to it before his lips were pressed against the warm skin.

His wife stirred at the soft kiss and began to stretch, making soft noises from sleep. “Aaron, honey. I’m sorry, l tried to stay up for you.” She sat up a bit to get closer to Aaron and had to pause to yawn deeply. She paused mid stretch when she noticed Aaron’s flushed cheeks and the tears in the corner of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I just,” he takes a shuddering sigh, “hadn’t heard from you and… I had started to worry.”

“I was meal prepping your lunches for the week and then I was doing laundry and tidying up. I just laid down to watch a show and must’ve forgotten to text you back first. I’m so sorry, honey. Come here.” She reached out her arms and wrapped them around Aaron’s neck, all but pulling him to her chest that he fell into willingly.

His arms snuck around her waist despite the awkward angle of him crouching on the floor and her on the couch. Aaron felt soft kisses being pressed to his forehead while gentle fingers scratched through his hair. A moment passed before his wife spoke again softly, with love and warmth in her voice.

“You wanna come lay down on the couch and I’ll lay on top of you?”

He smiled brightly at that and leant back to wipe a runaway tear from his cheek. While it may have sounded dirty, it was anything but. Feeling her warm body weight on him, pressing him into the couch made him feel so safe and loved. He didn’t even realize that’s what he was craving until she said it. She truly was perfect. Even if she made him worry sometimes.

[i-am-still-bb]

#5

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” | Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

Fili & Kili Rating: T Modern AU Ravenhill

910 words

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Warnings for: guns, GSW, ambiguous / unwritten ending, capture, fighting, inflicted knee injuries.

This one's more traditionally whumpy.

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A/N: Everything I write for Whumptober will get added to Ao3 eventually. Just the effort of doing all the tagging... right now that's too much.

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Fili held his Glock low; his other hand stretched out for balance and to stop him before he could slam face first into the rough cut stone walls. He could barely see and it was only getting darker. He strained to hear anything aside from his own breathing and Kili’s shuffling footsteps, soft rubber on stone. 

Fili stopped when he felt a solid wall less than three feet from his face. Kili bumped into him. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Fili hissed, his frustration and anxiety spilling over.

“Sorry,” Kili mumbled, a steadying hand on Fili’s low back, “Can’t fucking see.”

“Neither can I!”

Kili started to retort, but they both fell silent when they heard the sound moving in the passageway around the bend. Kili’s hand tightened. “Did you hear that?” 

Fili shushed him. “Stay here,” he ordered. 

But Kili was already on moving to peer around the corner where Fili could see the flickering of firelight.

“Kili!” he hissed, throwing up his  free hand to stop Kili.

Kili’s glance was sharp. “You think I’m letting you go alone?”

“Because I am.”

Kili shook his head. “I know what I’m doing. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Fili hesitated, his hand on Kili’s chest, took a deep breath, quickly weighing the odds. “Okay.” Kili started to move again but Fili stopped him. “But stay behind me.”

Kili rolled his eyes. But he did as Fili said. 

They could see where they were going now. The lights got brighter. And there were now voices, rough laughter, ahead of them. But they moved slower than ever. Fili alternated his focus from the floor, uneven and covered with bits of detritus that could easily make enough noise to get them noticed, and the light and voices ahead.

Floor.

Voices.

Floor.

Voices.

Flo—

—

“—t me go,” was the first thing that Fili remembered hearing. A sudden tunnel intersection, lights, voices, and then nothing until those words. He slowly gathered his hands under his shoulders and started to push himself up onto his hands and knees.

A foot slams down between his shoulder blades, shoving him back to the floor with an audible noise that reverberated through Fili’s body when his head hit the stone floor. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It,” a voice commanded. 

Fili started to relax. Quickly, or as quickly as he could manage, trying to think of ways to change the situation or at least survive it. 

“Fili!” Any thought for his own self preservation went out the window when Fili heard Kili’s voice. Remembered that Kili had been with him. 

Fili twisted onto his side. Grabbed the ankle of the man standing over him. Pulled the boot close to his chest and twisted back the other direction, Fili’s leg coming up and hooking around the leg that he was holding on to, knocking the man down the ground in a flash. A shout, surprised. Hooking the foot of his occupied leg under his free leg Fili was able to leverage his hips higher until he felt something give and he heard the man now shout in pain. 

There were shouted orders, people moving, but Fili didn’t expand his focus from his immediate vicinity. He fumbled for the soldier’s belt, searching for a gun, anything. 

“Fili, look out!” 

Fili spun instinctually catching the blow on his shoulder, buckling his knee, rather than the intended head. Fili lunged forward, blocking another blow, and landing some punches of his own before driving his boot into the side of the other man’s knee. Before Fili’s boot even hit the ground he was dragged backwards, an arm around his throat and a hand on the back of his head. Before the unseen person could clamp down though Fili got his hand in between his neck and the arm seeking to cut off his air supply. Fili shifted one way, then the other, looking for openings, but his opponent knew what Fili was doing. He kept his head ducked and close to Fili’s own, his hair was short, he kept his hips back, and his feet wide. 

A shot rang out, cracking and echoing in the stone chamber, and Fili dropped. His opponent now supported the bulk of Fili’s weight before adjusting to a kneeling position. 

“FILI!”

“I’m alright,” Fili panted. The grip around his neck loosened now that he was not fighting. His right leg was numb below the hip, blood seeping from the wound in his thigh. A wound that was mostly hidden by his fatigues and the blood. He tried to push himself to stand using his one good leg. But he was easily pulled off balance. His butt hit the ground hard and he grunted at the sudden pain of it.

Kili swallowed visibly. His captors and the chains on Kili’s hands had done a far better job containing him than Fili’s guards had been. 

“Now, can we all just be civilized?” Azog drawled. Fili recognized him immediately from Thorin’s description and from the mugshots they had all been shown.

“You better pray I don't get up this time around,” Fili growled.

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The End?

Select your own ending -

Our “orcs” are dumb and missed the flashbang that Fili and/or Kili had in their pocket.

Bilbo shows up (sneaking up behind the leader) with a k-bar and a silenced pistol

Thorin does something ill-advised, but it does get the “orcs’” attention

[insert movie-ish ending here]

Elves??

Other (share in the notes or a reblog!)

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Taglist: @silvermoon-scrolls

[descendent-of-the-sixth-heaven]

People: But Mr. Ieyasu! We don't have time!

*They all corner him and start to complain. After shaking him like a ragdoll for a good 10 minutes, the door opens. A beautiful young woman with black hair and chocolate brown eyes enters the room*

Oh my~ I'm late~ I'm sorry everyone. Ah, can we start with my makeup and hair first? Then I'll change into my clothes. I'll be reciting the speech in the meantime.

People: Yes Miss Mai!!

*They immediately let go of Ieyasu and glock Mai. Mai ignores Ieyasu's glare that was directed towards her*

Huhuhu. This is payback, Ieyasu~

Ieyasu: seriously, this girl is getting worse everyday.

*He angrily fixes his clothes, knowing that mai did that on purpose*