#( bleach blonde baby threatens you with a gun and a good time )

[polarnoid]

you’re not going to shoot me . ( for joe! )

okay. that draws a cackle out of him, raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. he has to hand it to jack, the guy had guts. he liked that about him. hated mostly everything else. he keeps the pistol aimed at him. "-you sure about that?" grins, cat like almost. it's this funny game they tended to play, kept things exciting. intriguing. he wasn't going to let the bastard get the better of him. "-i mean, i do not partake in the sins of alcohol, but you know, slippery fingers." it would be stupid. shooting him. when they both had a better chance to get off this situation if they worked together. he hated that too, when jack was right. didn't mean he couldn't push his luck. shake him up a bit. keep him on his toes. he didn't like this. he wasn't going to let him off the hook as easy. no joe was going to make this every bit as hard as he could. joe didn't have that many bad habits. but this one, this particular one. well it just kept coming back.

@trickstercaptain

[jesytr]

the train moved at a teetering pace , one brought on by the lightening and the thundering that crackled against the belly of the sky above. the echo boomed against the sky towers and caused the train to hum. slowing down to conserve both speed as well as caution as the tires wettened and squealed. the sky melted into a pool that was the pivotal point of most calamities. opening up and throwing down lightening that hissed against the clouds. it was a time to find shelter and luckily as the train came to another stop they found themselves compacted with even more people. all pulling in and pushing. causing harleen to squeeze between an older woman and a young child. the child was holding a red balloon. one shiny and bulbous. the balloon swayed and bobbed against the ceiling. seemingly gaining more rhythm as the trained began to escalate forwards. the rain increased , shattering against the top of the train as it followed it's course. the rails grinding as they winded around a corner. it took time to adjust but eventually the compartment found it's speed before settling into a rhythm of movement and reputation.

harleen stood up then , putting her hand on the hooks that hung above her. wrapping red chipped fingernails tightly around the hanging dexters. her hands folded nearly around her paperwork. once attached at the hips , now following suit in her arms , sitting across a large brown bag that was belted in the front. She pushed her elbows down , sitting her arms across her bag before speaking, " harlequin?? got a funny ring to it. " she settled on the idea that she'd be safer finding her name pushed out of her lips in a tight 'o' as she exclaimed, " I've never considered my name something special. just anotha' Quinn. " truthfully , she never considered much of herself to be that way. it was apparent that the girl was somewhat cleptic as she gathered up her papers , neatly folding them in her arms. looking down through her thick shaded brown glasses. the frames threatening to spill down her nose. she carried her eyeglasses everywhere she went , truthfully more for style then a need to see. she didn't exactly find them to be the most exciting part of her face. her baby blues always shining against doe eyed exteriors. she preferred her eyes and her bleached blonde hair.

she grabbed for her pen before proceeding to jot down what it meant to her to become a psychiatrist , feeling inspired by the words that Arthur had to say. her pen clicked once as she fermented her words into the white sheet of paper. her handiwork completely in childish cursive. she sucked on her bottom lip before asking, " metropolis isn't the easiest place to live in. would ya' suggest I instead moved ta' gotham downtown ?? they got good sushi there and plenty of arkham interns. " she wasn't about ready to move in with her sister just yet. up in Gotham heights where it was expensive and too fancy for the likes of her, " I've thought about moving in ta' downtown alley for awhile now , but I heard the rates there are scary when it comes ta' crime. " she smiled. her ruby red lips pulling tightly into a makeshift curve. crime never appealed to her , especially in Gotham where it ran rampant. she preferred safer neighborhoods, but it seemed a gun was shot in any where that you threw a coin those days. jeopardy was just another day in Gotham.

she held out her hand and pulled a small watch from her wrist. turning it over so she could examine the side of it. staring at the clock, " looks like I'll be running late. the bus was supposed to stop one full hour ago. " she breathed then , her lungs expanding before pressing a hand to her glasses and adjusting the frames, " I'll need a good excuse. first day and for an interview. doesn't look good in the eyes of the government system. " she peered at him then. noticing his small dog as if for the first time, " he's got a cute vest. is he working now ?? " she asked. giving him a small wave. absorbing his features and memorizing his face. a small habit she did with all animals, " he looks like a total sweetheart. what's his name ?? " she thought the question was innocent enough. with a quick nod she lowered her paperwork into her bag and threw it over her shoulder then, " looks like we'll be here for awhile longer. " she started in, " I've been meaning to say it , but I haven't so far. ya' got an impressive reputation, arthur. I bet ya'd make a million bucks doing stand up. " she half smiled, " even though ya think you're not funny , you've definitely got what it takes. "

☻ 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ⋆˚✩

AS THE TRAIN REACHES IT’S FIRST STOP A THUNDERING COULD BE HEARD. bellowing in the air. as if the skies throat had ripped open, and out stepped lighting. streaking across the sky. it had yet to rain, but they were looking at a downpour. the trains doors slide open, and a couple late to board quickly squeeze through. they were giggling in the excitement. bringing a sense of life to those already boarded. another crackle of lighting, and harleen is talking. lights above flickering off, and on. being disturbed by the change in weather. ARKHAM WAS ABOUT A COUPLE MORE STOPS OUT.

“ I mean yeah — ” she adjusted. bending in her nice outfit. the red, and black colors mixed, and matched with something to make her look like she was prepared for the interview. however, she had to borrow the burgundy coat from her sister in uppertown Gotham heights. she didn’t really visit her sibling often as it was clear that she was missed. a note left behind in her coat encouraging her to do her best at the interview. it was harleen’s fifth, and last place to try, and make a career from, “I’ve always had a thing for extreme personalities. Ya’ can’t deny, there’s an element of glamour ta’ these super-criminals. “ SHE HAD HER CASE STUDIES SURE, BUT NOTHING WAS LIKE GETTING A SESSION ONE ON ONE.

” harleen. “ she added. giving her face a name. she reached to the floor, and scooped up some of her paperwork. handing over her resume for him to see, ” friends just call me harley though. “ she smiled. she had worn ruby red as a shade of lipstick today even though her sister told her not to. ’ it won’t look right. ’ baby sister had commented, ’ you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. ’

the resume itself was enough to consider. it read about her stay as an on call therapist for two local prisons, her grads from Harvard, and follow up PhD. it even mentioned a recommendation from doctor Johnathon Crane back when she was his understudy aboard.

” I’m applying for the high risk ward. “ a place where they sent the more violent prone, and considered to be clinically insane inmates. harleen had a LOVE for those TYPES though. with the way they thought, and the way they behaved. she was over the moon.

she looked up at @jokethur then. her spot on the packed bench on the train becoming wider, and wider. NOT MANY WERE HEADING TO ARKHAM. at least not through the substations, ” guess I’ll see your face when I’m there. “ she stifled a laugh at the mention of bulletin boards. already guessing he was RIGHT and she would see some, ” maybe they got brochures on ya’ … somethin’ to hand out ta’ new recruits. “

QUESTIONS WERE PLAGUING HER. this job was her last shot. she’d need it now, or she had no more tomorrow. at least not in Gotham city. she had been offered a flat out in New York with her roommate. if she got in she’d stay, but if not .. ” ya’ think I got what it takes ?? “ she asked him, ” I mean , what do ya’ think ?? “ she vaguely gestured, ” I only got one more chance at this gig … n’ if it doesn’t work out , then what ?? “ she sighed , ” what would ya’ do in MY shoes ?? “

A black wolf-hybrid puppy wearing a ‘SERVICE DOG IN TRAINING’ vest leers at Harley from between Joker’s feet. Hawk’s paws are too large for his body still. He teeters on them as the old rails lose traction and the car careens through Gotham’s veins. Joker is well-adjusted to such turbulence. He leans and sways as if he anticipates every sharp turn. 

Antiquated fluorescent bulbs flicker. Each time they do, he could swear those three Wayne Investments clowns are parked in the back of the car. One hangs from the grab-pole and smirks at him, a bullet in his head and blood streaming down his face. Two hangs by one’s side. The exit wound in that one’s back sprays an entire door. Three’s a cork board. His dark curls bounce with the subway car’s momentum. Their victim collects every filament of light that he can in his pupils and lowers from the opposite end of the car. 

Harmonized laughter from the spectral trio sends a chill up his spine. Joker bares his misaligned teeth and twitches at the shoulder from it. He’s forgotten that a cigarette hangs from his teeth and near-strikes Hawk when raining ash. 

Joker yanks the filter from his mouth and balances Harley’s resumé in that same hand while tucking a hand in his jacket to produce a violet overlay. He flaps it once, then transfers her resumé back to that hand and slots it under the clear plastic sheet. Without any verbal cue, Werewolf stalks toward one of the windows and lays both sheets on top of it so he can lean forward and squint as he strains to read. The letters still vibrate, but it might be from the car. Hawk displaces most of his weight into Joker’s left calf to keep him level as the train rocks again. 

“If it isn’t overwhelmingly apparent,” he salts the air with that disclaimer, then touches his chin to his shoulder to quasi-make eye contact, “I can’t read.” Nor does he know what he’s looking at. Her name, for starters. “Har-leen Quin-zel…” each syllable is over enunciated. He chews on them for a moment, flicks the cigarette back in his mouth, then muses, “Kind of sounds like Harlequin.” He rears back. Green wavelets slip over his shoulders as he asks, “Is that your real name?!” with a pinched brow. Joker bats his lashes and shakes his head almost as if he’s misread. “You’ve got creative parents.” 

He can stare at her resumé for hours and the extent of her academic background won’t make anymore sense to a high school dropout. He strains to read even as the car jerks and jostles. He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out at his side, too, so he doesn’t set Hawk aflame. Joker’s eyebrows lift to convey she definitely has an impressive background especially to a layman. The comma-like cartoonish set painted on his forehead vanish when he wrinkles it. Joker then slides the overlay back into his jacket’s inseam and returns her resume before he drops ashes onto it. 

“I-if I knew what I was looking at,” he’s quick to flick a wrist and warn her, “—and I don’t…” Two silent steps guide him back to the pole. Musician’s fingers wrap around the steel and tether him. “I’d think you’re overqualified for that shithole. Then again…” After a theatrical frown, he shrugs. “At this point, I’m overqualified. Why don’t you go for New York Presbyterian? It’s right over the river,” Joker throws a thumb over his shoulder, “Going to Arkham for psychiatry is like heading to Gotham Metropolitan for life-saving surgery.” He breaks to laugh. It’s dry and smoky. “When they say that they ‘practice medicine’…” jade eyes blow twice as wide as he nods, “They really mean they ‘practice’ medicine!” He makes himself laugh. Joker throws his shoulders into the softer, grainier response to his own terrible joke, then sighs, “This is why I failed at standup. But really…” 

The conductor grumbles something about McKean Island. Joker stays stiff even as the signs for Arkham State Hospital appear in the sallow station. 

“If I were you,” he clears his throat, “I’d take my over-educated ass across the river and apply to Columbia Presbyterian.” 

[boplee]

Choices 🖤

Yuta x reader

Angst💔

"You know what you have to do." Those words replayed over and over in your head. It was like that one song you swore you hated but still found yourself singing. You hated the feeling in your chest. You felt like someone sat a weight on it and refused to let it up.

Your entire life you've made choices. Some good and some you weren't too proud to admit to. One of them is the day you decided to join this life. Accepting Hoonhee's job offer. Moving up so quickly in the ranks. It was all too much too soon. But you didn't care, none of them could compare to this. Your biggest regret, the worse choice you could've ever made. This wouldn't be happening if you had never gone to that stupid club. If you had never accepted that drink. If you had never gone to VIP. If you had never met him. Had you never fallen in love.

Love. That is whom you blamed for this. Not Hoonhee, not yourself, no one but love. You hated the way he played his game. You hated the way he made you a player without your permission. You hated how he made you feel. You just hated him completely. Love was the only thing you could blame. Just when you trusted him and decided to accept him, he betrayed you.

Your heart felt heavy and your hand felt almost numb. You forced your feet to move up the path you trailed. With each passing step, you regretted them. You paused momentarily and tried to calm your breathing. You felt like your heart was about to beat out your chest. You began moving again and you hated yourself more and more the closer you got to the door. Your feet stopped. Your heart paused. And your breathing hitch in your throat. "You know what you have to do." You said to yourself as you knocked on the door.

That short moment felt like a century. Everything passed in slow motion. The quick flicker of the porch light. The soft thud of feet on the floor. The click of the deadbolt. And finally the slow creaking of the door opening. You felt nauseous as you began slowly lifting your head. "Y/n? Is... it's you?" There he stood. Him in all his glory. Just as beautiful as you remember him. You took in his appearance, running your eyes over every dip and curve of him. His soft tone abdomen rising with each breath he took. His silver jewelry reflecting the lighting on the porch. His bleach blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Long time no see" you joke softly "uh...mind if I come in." You dropped your head as Yuta made way for you to pass.

It had been a month since you left. You left him with nothing. No contact information, no clue as to where you went to, and not even a proper goodbye. You just. Left. You couldn't tell him why you were leaving, it would only complicate things even more. You couldn't bring yourself to sit so you just stood as Yuta eyed you from the door. The tension between the two of you was so thick you were sure you could reach out and touch it. You took a deep breath as you rose your head to look at him. "Where have you been." Yuta was never one to hold in his curiosity and you knew it. "Why haven't you contacted me? Why did you just leave?" You felt your heart drop with each and every question he asked. Somehow you just couldn't bring yourself to answer them. "Well. Answer me." You sat silently as you tried to think of your response. "ANSWER ME!" You jumped at the loud request. Yuta never raised his voice unless he was angry, or in this case, hurt. "Yuta, i-i I had to." Yuta scuffed in disbelief as he began to make his way to you. "Why? What are you running from? Why did you have to?" You rested a hand in your pocket. "You wouldn't understand." He paused in his tracks at the statement. "I wouldn't understand. I WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND?! YOU KNOW NO ONE UNDERSTANDS YOU LIKE I DO." He began moving forward again but stopped cold in his tracks.

"Yuta, I know what I'm talking about." The loud click echoed off the walls in the room. You could see Yuta's eyes widen as he looked at you. The soft whisper of your name floated off Yuta's tongue and into the air. He stood there staring into the barrel of your gun. The metal felt hot in your cold hands. Your slick fingers held tightly to the handle as your index finger rested on the trigger. "What are you doing?" Your nose burned at the sound of Yuta's quivering voice. "Yuta please don't make this harder than it already is." You squeezed your eyes shut as you prepared to pull the trigger. "You don't have to do this, please put the gun away. Baby let's talk about this." Your eyes watered at the pet name. You were Yuta's baby, and he promised to never let anyone ever hurt you. He promised to take care of you, protect you, and love you. You knew he meant every word and now they burned themselves into your brain. "Yuta I have to, you don't understand." Tears pricked at your eyes and threatened to fall with each passing second. "Hoonhee. Did he put you up to this? Is it him? FUCK Y/N ANSWER ME." Your brain felt like it was about to blow and you just couldn't take it. "YES, YES, yes. Yes. Yes." That was all you could say. You look off to avoid the look in Yuta's eyes. You could only imagine how he was feeling at this moment. "You don't have to do this. You said you love me, remember. You swore on it. Remember." As much as you wanted to forget it you couldn't.

"It was all a setup Yuta okay. All of it." You began crying as you looked at him. "That night in the club Hoonhee sent me to you. He wanted me to get close to you. He wanted me to kill you in the end. It was all planned. The dates. The late-night rendezvous. Me and you being together. It was all planned." You had only seen Yuta cry once and you promised to never see it again but here you were watching his tears flow freely. "What." He ran his hand over his face shaking away the strands of hair from his face. "Yuta please." You swallowed hard as you looked at him. "What do you mean, please. Please nothing. You mean to tell me it was all lies." Your eyes began producing more tears as Yuta's words threw knives into your heart. "What about all those times you said you love me. All those promises we made. Y/n what about all those times we made love."

This is why you hated Mr. Love. You see in the beginning it was all fun and games. It was to help Hoonhee. It was to hurt Yuta and the rest of NCT. But slowly you found yourself becoming a part of the Love game. He was the master and you were his puppet. Going along with all of his demands. "Huh. Remember. Here in my bedroom. That night at your apartment. What about that night on your hotel room balcony."

Your mind flashed short moments from each night he mentioned. All you could think about was him on top of you pleasing you. Holding you. Kissing you. Loving you. Each time he made sure he poured his all into it. And you felt it. With every thrust, every dip, and every touch. But the night on that balcony was something different. He just held you in his arms as he rocked into you. But the moment his tear-filled eyes locked with yours, you knew you were in love. "I saw that look in your eyes. I saw how you looked at me when you said you loved me. I felt how you held onto me. How your tears hit my skin when you finished." He was right. You still remember how you screamed your love for him as he took you on the most amazing love high you had ever experienced, and you knew he was the only person who could make you feel this way. "I-" you found yourself choking on your words as you tried to speak. "Y/n please don't tell me those were lies too." Yuta's eyes searched your's and you just couldn't take it. "Lord knows your right Yuta. All that was planned, but falling in love with you was never planned. I meant it that night I said I love you. And Yuta I promise you I do, but Hoonhee has me. I'll try to make this quick and painless." You straightened back in your stance and aimed the gun. "You can't let him control you anymore. Just join us. We can take him down together. Baby please." "YUTA STOP, JUST LET ME GET THIS OVER WITH." you cried out. You just stood there looking at him. Slowly you found yourself collapsing. You knew Yuta was right. "Yuta, I don't wanna choose between the two of you." You pulled yourself into a ball there on the floor and just cried. "And I don't want to force you to, but now you have to." You felt Yuta's arms wrapping around you. "But I can't, and you know that." You sat there and cried into Yuta's chest as he removed the gun from your hands.

Your problem with love wasn't that he made you play his game. It was just how twisted his game could be. Everyone knows better than to resist him, cause he'll find you in the end. You never liked how low and unfair love played. The things he could do. You just hated it. Who was he to make you choose between your one love and your family? But if there was one person who played their game way dirtier than love and you hated him as well. Yet you always found yourself willingly and almost naive about playing along with. Was hate. The coldest, cruelest, most heartless game show host of all time. But you couldn't help but admire how he ran his game. Unlike love, he never forced you to choose, he only drove you to choose. And the hate for your uncle ran deeper than the love you had for him.

"When can I talk to Taeyong?" The way the words rolled off your tongue sent shivers into Yuta's spine. "He'll be here in the morning." And just like that, you made another choice. You were sure you'd be adding this to your list of regrets soon, but the way Yuta held you made you think otherwise. The same way you were making choices in your head so was Yuta. And when he finally laid you down in the bed beside him, he made his final decision. He'd get rid of Hoonhee even if he died trying.

_______________________________________________

Yeah so this is my first story on here so um, please don't roast me on this guys 😭. anyway hope you enjoyed reading this

[ktheist]

| the wrong star

warnings: mentions of gun, death, too much dick shoutouts and implied smut.

jimin isn’t exactly someone you’re supposed to get attached to. not that you were planning to in the first place. but things... things happen.

at first, it’s a trip to some island that’s supposed to be famous for its volcanic clay produce. the chalet they got you was nice. a single room with the bed facing the sea and almost translucent curtains covering a clear wall-sized sliding door that could let a sniper put a bullet in your head in your sleep.

but you tend to be more lax. it’s a hard-earned vacation and if someone is going to assassinate you in your sleep, they’re gonna wish they hadn’t.

after leading the devilishly handsome man you had a few too many drinks with at the bar, you find yourself in your room. articles of clothing falling onto the ground faster than you can register. it’s when the back of your calves hit the edge of the bed, do you wedge a foot around his ankle and swiftly step to the side, sending him tumbling down into the silken sheets.

a groan escapes his lips and you wonder if it’s made up. if he meant to sound like he’s caught off guard by your sudden movement, but you don’t have the time to ponder on it as you pull out a gun from beneath the gap between the bed and the floor.

“who sent you?” your voice is as cold as steel, hands groping around his chiseled body for a wire.

“easy, sweetheart,” his tone becomes more calculated when he feels the cold barrel against the back of his neck, hands coming up to his head, “believe it or not, i’m here for a vacation - well, or was.”

“oh, isn’t that just a big fat coincidence,” you mock, “two assassins, in the same island, at the same resort.”

as the odds stack up, you feel the muscles in jimin’s back tense up, “it’s got the best view of the beach and if you’re as good as you seem to be - which you are, judging from how you noticed i’m an assassin too - you probably earned as much as me which explains why you got the most expensive room they have.”

“even a child can come up with-” your words get lodged in your throat as the world spins for a split second before you’re slammed into the mattress.

your grip on the gun remains still but a larger hand seems to press on your wrist so it’s pointing in the direction of the sliding door and away from his veins. his thighs lock your hips down and his free hand holds a knife to your throat.

“is ___ even your real name?” he cocks his head to the side, as though giving you a once over before deciding whether you look like a ___.

“jimin can’t be yours,” you scoff. who would be foolish enough to-

“it is.” he cuts your train of thoughts, “you can check my social security number,” his offer seems a bit too willing, “i told you i’m here for a strictly non-working matter.”

all of a sudden, flashes of jimin’s - you’re not a hundred percent convinced, but let’s just call him that for now - suave smile, his hungry eyes and far too carefree hand plays at the back of your mind.

“to get laid.” you offer a better term for him, to which he rolls his eyes.

“yeah, okay,” he huffs, “it’s been sixteen months, don’t judge me.”

at the unsolicited information, you can’t help but narrow your eyes, “if you can’t get laid in the city, what makes you think you can get laid in some island with lesser population?”

“you must never had a girl you met at a club - and yes, from said city - try to cut your dick off when you thought you were getting some,” he says plainly, the moonlight pouring through the clear sliding door providing barely enough light to allow you to see the distorted expression he’s making. as though he hasn’t emotionally recovered from that yet.

“well, second time’s the charm, right?” the littlest gap between his crotch and your hips allows you to root your feet into the mattress and force yourself up, sending his balance off so you’d have enough time to slip your legs over his hips, switch your positions and point your gun against his sharp jawline.

but that also means his hand was free to secure his life by pressing the cold blade of the knife against your neck. and yes, again.

“you don’t look like you’re on a mission to kill either,” he asserts, eyes glinting with a sort of bloodthirsty desire you didn’t notice before - well, to be fair, before he was cracking jokes and wasn’t taking this life threatening situation seriously, “how bout we just... part ways and never speak of this to our organization ever again?”

you take the longest moment to weigh out the pros and cons. pros: you get to enjoy the rest of your vacation without being called back to or ordered to kill jimin. cons: you might have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of this vacation.

the answer teeters on the tip of your tongue but the tangibility of the tension seems to clasp against your lips, forbidding you from uttering-

“yeah, okay,” as soon as the words hit the air, it’s as though a thick blanket of haze has lifted.

you roll off the man at the same time he lets out an audible sigh, the knife falling off his hands and echoing in three thuds before the room goes silent again, save for your breathings.

“god,” jimin heaves out, “i thought i was gonna get my head blown off instead of my dick.”

“how is that better than getting a vasectomy... with a bullet... and on your dick?” you ask into the darkness, the gun lying a few inches from your hand after you let it slip away and fall against the mattress.

“trust me, sweetheart,” you catch him shooting a look at you, “anything is better than living a life without a dick.”

you don’t quite understand how an assassin would be so scared of pain, regardless if it’s around the genital area but you’re just glad your vacation doesn’t have to be cut short just because you cross the wrong star at the wrong time.

after the... incident, you’ve managed to avoid each other successfully. until your last night at the island. some big shot was throwing a pool party and everyone’s invited. jimin was surrounded with three girls with the prettiest faces and curviest bodies, hands trailing up his sculpted abdomen which he lets out to the world as his floral blue shirt hangs on his shoulders, unbuttoned.

guess, his sixteen month dry spell ends tonight.

“you,” an obnoxious voice calls - you have half the mind to slam him against the ground and make him beg for forgiveness for addressing a lady as ‘you’ but you twirl around with a smile and a certain roll in your hips. the host, a young man with a proportionate body and golden blond hair bites down on his lips as he undress you with his eyes, “you came.”

you met him while you were tanning - or rather, the sun seemed to have suddenly been covered by the clouds so you pried one eye open, only to see a man with too much ego and too small a dick standing over you.

taehyung - unfortunately, you don’t forget names that easily - tried to chat you up but after your third rejection, he’d left with a, “i’m having a pool party tonight - you should come and see what you’re missing out on.”

“thought i’d see what i’m missing out on,” you give him a once over, noticing how he’s looking at you with eyes full of anticipation before it darkens with devastation at your next words, “not much though.”

but that baby face instantly lights up when you take a step into the jacuzzi, one hand hovering over the water as you sip the tequila before finally closing the distance. the woman and men who were latching onto him began to leave the warmth of the tub one by one until you’re setting the flute glass on the edge.

“so, where you from?” taehyung begins, only to suck in a deep breath as you press your body up against him.

“less talking, more making out, yeah?” you murmur against his lips, your own curling into a pleased smirk when his hands cup your ass and he devours your lips.

it takes about five shots of jaeger for him to pass out on the suede long couch somewhere in a more private part near the pool. you asked for it because you weren’t drunk enough to ignore the eyes that seem to follow your every move and they aren’t taehyung’s.

with a dejected sigh, you tie the line of your bikini bra around your neck and back before slipping through the white curtain that hung around the gazebo, fully intending to call it a night... until a silhouette step into the pathway to your room.

“thought you were getting your dick blown,” you comment despite knowing that he was probably too busy trying to see through the gaps of the curtains around the gazebo to actually have his dick inside someone.

“thought you were getting one in you,” his tone bears more mockery than yours - dare you say, personal.

“i’m leaving tomorrow,” you brush past him, the sound of the waves crashing becoming louder as you tread further down the path.

“oh,” is all he says - not that you’re expecting much.

yet your chest still aches with a sort of disappointment much heavier than taehyung’s sleeping form and limp dick.

when you come to a stop in front of the wooden door, you finally break the silence, “___ is my real name, by the way.”

it doesn’t take long for jimin to soak in your words. barely more than a second. and before you know it, your lips are melding with a pair of luscious ones. they’re as soft and sweet as the words that come out of them the day you first started talking.

it should feel deja vu, how you’re backing up against nothing and how the two piece clothing you have on is easier to slip off your body than the tank top and skirt from the first time. and jimin’s shirt only needs being pushed off his shoulder - his trunks need a bit more attention because it got stuck around his hardening dick.

but the struggle is worth the wait because you woke up with black and blue bruises and a sort of soreness in your legs that could only mean one thing: that the sex was out of this world.

when you brush the man’s bleached hair out of his face, you half-expect him to grasp your hand like it’s some gun aimed at him while he’s at his most vulnerable. but his eyes flutter open a little too belatedly. they curve into crescents when they see you as does his lips.

“morning,” he murmurs ever so gently - you wonder how he does that with a groggy voice.

you order breakfast in bed and eat them together, laughing and messing around like you’ve known each other for longer than a week. but neither of you disclose what organization you work for. you just... cuddle on the bed until it’s time for you to pack, it isn’t much since you know not to bring too many thins in case you needed to leave quickly. perhaps in the middle of the night.

you part with kisses and hugs like you’re never going to see each other again.

well, you don’t because the organization sends you for jobs all around the country, sometimes even to neighboring ones until you hit your third month of coming back after the vacation. 

you’re decked in a fake diamond encrusted lingerie with thighs gripping the pole better than your wig. the person who requested you had company and among them is none other than jimin. his hair is dyed into a deep brown shade, giving him a mysterious air as he watches you put a bullet in your target’s mouth. a proud smile plastered over his face.

“please, don’t shoot me or my dick,” he holds his hands up in a playful manner once you discard the gun somewhere next to the bodies.

“i’m not even going to ask how you found me,” you trust him enough to know there isn’t any assassins you need to be wary of in the club until at least three minutes before you have to report to your own. his lips tastes like peppermint and beer.

and so it goes your little rendezvous. from tokyo to milan all the way to egypt, you’d somehow find a way to coordinate your jobs in the same city and spend the rest of the nights and days with each other after you’re done with your target. 

“i wanna quit,” jimin announces, one fine night in the hot summer air of the philippines.

“what? us?” it’s just your wishful thinking, because there’s no other reason for him to leave his job unless he wants a death wish.

he sits up despite having your head on his arm - and when he does that, you know he means business. or resignation, really.

“i’m only doing this because i had nothing to lose back then,” his callous thumb rubs the back of your hand - more specifically, the knuckle of your ring finger, “but i have everything to lose right now and i rather not second guess myself until it’s too late.”

“jimin,” you only ever say his name when you want to snap him out of his ludicrous thoughts - and the last time, he proposed getting into a cartel just and staging your deaths, “you do know they’re not going to let you go that easy - you’re an asset.”

it didn’t take too long for you to realize that. and it took you a shorter period of time to let it sink in that jimin had known you were an assassin all along that day but chose to place his bet on you not killing him so he flirted with you anyway.

“which is why i should go over to your organization - they’ll accept me for the information i have on mine,” he pulls out a hard drive from the drawer he kept his guns in.

“and what makes you think you won’t be killed once they got all the information they need from you?” you refute.

“well,” he squeezes your hand, eyes coming up to meet you, “that’ll probably take them six months to realize i have nothing more to give them - and by then, i’m hoping we’d be gone.”

he means dead. legally.

“i don’t know...” and for the first time since you were eighteen, you couldn’t draw up the best course of action to take to get yourself out of a sticky situation, but you do know one thing, “i don’t think of you as just a fling and if this is some heat-of-the-moment thing-”

“i want us to get married,” he cuts you off, or so he thought he got it right.

“not exactly what i was trying to say,” you can’t help but giggle, but you don’t oppose proposition.

it’s been an arduous process since then. scraping for information, risking your identities and suspicion of your own organization when you started to highly recommend jimin to the board. but your supervisor and trainer had backed you up - only because he personally went against jimin and it’d left him with a in his back that disallowed him from taking on jobs and subdued into a trainer for the newbies.

“how long?” the moment those words slip out of namjoon’s lips, you don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that your heart quite literally dropped.

“how long what?” yet you still manage to school your face into a stoic one - they make you take classes for that too.

“look, kid, i’ve known you since you were fifteen with snot running out of your nose every time you have to come in for shooting lessons,” those sharp eyes that seem to peel every layer of your lies with just a glance. he brings up one hand, cigarette in between his middle and ring finger while his index finger points at you, “and i know a look that screams i’ll die for the person i thought is the love of my life but really is just some hot flame i met while i’m in my 20′s, when i see one.”

“he’s not just some guy,” is all you say and hear.

but namjoon begs to differ, head shaking as he lowers his gaze - as though he couldn’t bear to look at a disappointment before he sucks in a breath and meets your eyes, “i don’t wanna see your face bloodied and bruised in that interrogation room,” he waves his index finger in the direction of the hallway where the infamous interrogation room lays, the smoke from the bud forming a circle before it disappears into the air, “or so help me god, i will kill you myself.”

“thank you, namjoon.” the gratitude scrapes against your throat like a knife, because this is him saying he’ll help you - both you and jimin get out of this god forsaken place and that means putting his life on the line for it.

then so begins jimin’s double agency, going back and forth, supplying every drop of information he can for yours until his organization caught wind of his betrayal. but by then, he’s already halfway across the world, taking a job as an assassin from your organization and under its protection.

you don’t talk even though you see each other in the hallway. pretend like neither existed while you fuck like you’ve never had a drop of water in the toilet of some club in the country you manage to coordinate your jobs in.

but that was rare. two assassins in the same country, taking a job.

then comes the ratchet moment. when jimin’s six months are up and they find him more of a liability than an opportunity. the better the agent, the high likely he’ll stab you in the back like he did with his last organization.

something like the saying if he cheats with you, he’ll cheat on you.

but in a way, you’re both cheaters. of life. of death. of everything that you were thrust into in a guise for a better life than the slumps you come from.

“get out of the way, ___,” jimin could have convinced you that he truly, honestly betrayed you as he holds the gun and points it at you.

“jimin, think about it, if you put your gun down, i shoot you, you die an instant death,” it’s not much of an offer but he’s in no position to refuse as the siren ring throughout the building and red lights begin to replace the bright luminescent ones.

it is in that moment, when namjoon slips through the vents and kicks takes your brown haired lover off guard, do you rush in to wrestle the gun out of his hands. someway, somehow, the struggle ended with a bullet in you and you’re like fish gasping for air, your vision slowly blurring as you watch namjoon run after jimin two seconds into hesitating whether to save you or abandon you because the others would come for you.

the chase continues until jimin slips into the sewer - possibly his planned escape route which he thought would be the last step to escaping his pursuers. only to meet his death. they found his body a good one hour later but he’s almost bloated from having been left in the cold water by namjoon who barely made it back to call for back up and sent people to get jimin’s body.

it’s exactly one year later, after going through rehab and barely managing to do menial, daily tasks do they discharge you. the bullet hit your spine and you had to go through multiple surgeries just to be able to feel your legs. it takes you longer than six months to be able to walk properly.

“i almost lost my life defending this very organization and even if you can’t relocate me to some nice, five star apartment,” tears fill your eyes as you speak in front of the board members, “at least let me live the rest of it without having to check my back if i have a red dot aimed at my heart.”

guess that speech was moving.

they never really let anyone go just like that but you’ve proved your loyalty by jumping in front of a volatile assassin and trying to tackle the gun out of his grasp with the help of namjoon.

oh and namjoon? he got promoted as a board member. he’d also been a major influence in your honorable discharge - as honorable as an assassin’s discharge can be.

now, you live somewhere on the outskirts of town. a tiny little house with a lawn and a one dog and one cat. you get by with writing articles and promotional posts for products.

it’s harder to write for longer hours than you remember it but you like it.

sometimes you get parcels every few days. sometimes they’re energy drinks, sometimes snack packs, and sometimes a pack of bullet for your guns in the most unlikely places.

today, moon, your doberman barks at from his special little area at the front yard, signaling the arrival of yet another package. it takes a moment for you to get to the door but when you do, it’s the the usual white and blue uniform wearing man.

“jimin,” you whisper his name like you’re afraid people from your organization is going to pop out of nowhere at the mention of him.

“hey sweetheart,” his smile still makes his eyes close, “i came to pick up my bride.”

you shake your head at his antics, tears filling your eyes as your own smile stretch across your face, “you’re just in time.”

x

note. check out my #excerpt from a fic i’ll never write for more excerpt-from-a-fic-i’ll-never-write-esque fics!

[stvckoncarisi]

Faith - Sonny Carisi

THIS IS EXTREMELY SAD AND TWISTED AND I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SO SORRY.

Dominick never planned to put you and jamie into danger. He should’ve known not to bring work home, not this case. Now he was stuck, somewhere on the state highway, traveling at a steady 80 miles per hour, with your daughter sleeping in the backseat. 

“Baby, you’re scaring me what is going on..” You almost whispered. His knuckles were wrapped tightly around the wheel of the squad car.

“Dammit!” Dominick yelled out as the van caught back up behind him, his fist slammed against the door beside him. 

“Daddy..” Jamie’s innocent little voice cracked. 

It was rare for Sonny to ever yell around her, let alone punch things. He was putty in your daughters hands, he truly treated her like a princess. 

You walked back into the nursery to check on your six week old daughter to hear the gentle humming of Dominick. “I will throw away my faith just to keep you and your mother safe, my little princess. You guys are everything I have. I love you both so so much.” His finger ran gently over her tiny cheek before he kissed her forehead gently. 

“Jamie, princess i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you. It’s, it’s just daddy forgot his lucky tie at home.” He choked on his words as he looked back at your beautiful creation. 

Her eyes were a deep navy blue, bone straight bleach blonde hair with his dimples. It was only three years ago, you and sonny welcomed her into the family. 

“Dom, please. What is going on!” You placed your hand on the back of his neck. “Please talk to me. If we are going this start a war here, i need to know what i’m fighting for. Who is it?” 

“In brooklyn, I arrested this guy for a rape murder. His name is Jeremy. We couldn’t get enough evidence on the murder but he was convicted of the rape of a different girl who came foreword. But, he didn’t do time. The bastard had a great attorney. He lost his job, his wife, his home, his family basically disowned him. He told me he would come after me one day. Which is part of the reason they sent me to Manhattan. Y/N, he found me. He found us and I have to protect you and Jamie. I refuse to let anything happen to either of you.” His voice just rambled as he lifted his phone to his ear.

“Carisi?” He answered. “Liv, meet me at the spot i told you in ten okay? See you then.” He ran his fingers through his hair before quickly glancing at you. “Are you ready?” 

He gave you no time to answer, he just swiftly flicked on the sirens and put his car through the grass dividing the two sides of the highway. He was definitely not ignoring the gas peddle now that he has time to get out of the vans sight. 

He cut the sirens and lights after a few minutes. Jamie was now asleep again. 

“Please stay with us, please don’t go by yourself.” Your hands rested on Dominick’s chest as Liv put Jamie into her car. “We need you to keep us safe. Our tall, handsome, dorky, caring, thoughtful police officer.” You expressed a soft laugh between each word before you looked up into those beautiful eyes. “Promise me you will come home.” 

“Sweetheart, I will throw away my faith just to keep the both of you safe. And if that means i have to leave, doll, i’m going to leave. I cannot have the two of you in danger because of me.” He moved his hand to rest on top of yours. Lightly tapping it against his chest as he expressed a laugh to hide the tears pushing in his eyes. “I love you so much, you have no idea.” His lips pressed gently against yours for a few moments before he pulled you into his chest. 

The tears ran down his stubbly cheeks before you wipe them away, your lips pressing against his once more. “You better go talk to Jamie.” 

Dominick made his way over to your daughter, waking her gently. “Princess, daddy has to leave for a few days. I need you to keep this for me.” He took off his wedding ring and his cross that hung from his neck and handed them to the three year old. “Promise me that you won’t let mommy cry too much? You know how she gets, you need to make sure she gets out of bed in the morning, make sure she eats, and if she isn’t. You remember uncle rafael’s phone number right?” She gave him a small nod, tears forming in her eyes. “Shh, don’t cry baby, don’t cry. You have all the cute videos of us playing, singing and dancing, and all of the pictures of us on mommy’s phone. They will always be there when you miss me. I’ll see you later princess. I love you, so so much. Please do not ever forget that.” He presses a long, slow kiss to his daughters forehead before he wiped his cheeks, then Jamie’s. 

“Carisi.” Liv spoke up. “Please be safe.” 

“I know, thank you for this. Thank you so much.” As Dominick turned to head to his squad car, the familiar black van pulled up to block the entrance. “Y/N, get in Liv’s car. Right now, go!” He yelled out to his wife. 

Jeremy stepped out of the van, followed by two larger men behind him. 

“Ahh, Detective Dominick Carisi.” He laughed out softly, pulling the gun from his side. “I told you i would find you.” 

“Listen, Jeremy. You don’t have to do this.” Dominick raised his hands as he backed away from the man. 

“Shut up. You took everything from me. My job, my wife, my kids, my family.” He hissed at the tall detective. 

Dominick looked back at Liv who also had he hands raised trying to back into her car slowly. Then to his wife who stood inches from the car door, frozen. 

“Who is the beaut?” Jeremy made his way over to your body, lifting the gun to your cheek, running it down your soft skin. You flinched as the cool metal met the skin. “Is this one yours?” He nodded towards Carisi. “She’s pretty, beautiful lips.” He lifted the gun to your mouth, and pressed. “Open!” He commanded. You followed. You wrapped your lips around the disgusting weapon. “Look at that, a good listener. How cute.” You sighed out as the gun left your mouth. You spit out the taste from your mouth. 

“Jeremy, leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.” Sonny called out, and with that Jeremy let the gun smack your cheek. You yelled out and looked towards Dominick, his eyes swollen, his fists clenched.

Jamie yelled out from the backseat, she was screaming out for her mother and father. 

“Jamie no, jamie.” Dominick was now in full blown tears, he reached for his gun and pulled it out of his holster. Lifting it towards the two men behind him. “I will kill you, i swear to god. Let Liv calm her down.” Dominick pled. The two men nodded towards Olivia who walked to the backseat to calm down Jamie. 

“Drop the gun. I said drop it!” Jeremy stood behind Sonny with his gun to the back of your husbands head. “Now turn and look at me” Dominick slowly turned to the man, and swallowed whatever was in his throat as he made one glance over to you and mouthed I love you Doll. 

“I said me, not her.” Jeremy pressed the gun flesh against the skin of Sonny’s forehead. “I would take you from them, but what fun would that be?” He laughed. “You get to suffer just like i did.” 

Dominick tried to get the gun from Jeremy, but that just pissed him off.

“Oh, so you want to try to be slick?” He raised the gun towards you and fired at your leg. 

It was fast and sudden. There was no warning, you always pictured it would be in slow motion like in the movies. But it was an excruciating pain that ran up your entire body. The bullet hit your upper thigh. 

Jeremy just stared for a second, but for that second Dominick grabbed his gun from behind him and aimed at jeremy. 

“Drop the gun jeremy.” Dominick threatened. “I said fucking drop the gun.” He pressed the gun against Jeremy’s back, pushing him towards his squad car. “I swear to god, if you don’t drop it. I will kill you right here.” 

Within seconds there were two gun shots. One from Dominick’s gun, the other, from Jeremy’s. 

You couldn’t help but to scream out again as the second bullet rips through your stomach. 

Dominick turned toward the two men who he had threatened to help him get you to the hospital fast. 

“Baby, come on. You’re going to be okay, it’s going to be fine. You’ll be okay.” Sonny lifted you to carry you into the back of his squad car. “Shit.” He mumbled at all of the blood on the ground where you laid. “Alright beautiful, you’re doing great. I promise you’re going to fine.” 

The entire way to the hospital, Dominick prayed. 

The entire time you were in surgery, Dominick prayed. 

The entire time your daughter grew up without her mother, Dominick prayed. 

The entire time he visited your grave, Dominick prayed. 

He prayed for one more minute, one more second to tell you how much he adored your smile, your laugh, your hair, your annoying snoring, how loud you were in the mornings trying to make breakfast, how smart you were, how crazy beautiful you looked in his Fordham hoodie. He prayed for one more chance to hold you close and kiss your lips. He prayed for every once of you to be placed into his daughter. 

He prayed for one more day with you.

[cjgw312]

Random Musings

Yeah, I know it has been a while but work has been a complete beast.  So, I had this image of Four and Zeke venturing out into the fringe to meet some of the people outside Chicago and the Bureau.

“There it is,” Zeke commented, pointing at the faint outlines of the tents just off in the distance. Tobias nodded and Zeke glanced over at him. “So, I figure we can’t just drive up and knock on the door.”

Tobias chuckled a little. “Yeah no. We’ll have to get them to take us to whomever is in charge. And convince them we aren’t a threat.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “No pressure.” He rolled his neck from side to side.

“I could have done this by myself,” Tobias pointed out, amused.

Zeke gave a full bellied laugh. “And have Tris gut me? No way, man. You do not cross Dauntless girls. Even if they didn’t start off in Dauntless.”

Tobias chucked again and had to agree. Tris was plenty pissed enough that she couldn’t refute his arguments for her not going. To have Zeke drop out and Tobias venture out into the Fringe alone would have sent her through the stratosphere.

“How do we play this?” Zeke asked, his eyes scanning the area as they approached the camp. “We should probably ditch the vehicle,” he mused, “I don’t see any signs of any others and it may be a bit much to just drive up to the nearest tent and say what’s up.”

Tobias nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” He turned the ATV towards a hill and parked. “We should be good here. Not too far to walk.” Tobias glanced at the rifles. “We should probably leave the rifles too.”

Zeke nodded his agreement. “Good call. Less threatening. But we take the knives.”

“Hell yeah.”

Tobias and Zeke climbed out of each side of the vehicle. Tobias opened the trunk, uncoded the lock on the built-in storage locker and Zeke handed him the two rifles and two handguns they’d brought along. They stowed the guns but armed themselves with knives, strapped to their arms, thighs and ankle holsters. Zeke secured his knives then looked at his best friend. “You realize they’re going to search us and probably disarm us, right?”

Tobias sighed, “Yeah.” He reached for two small flashlights, handing one to Zeke and storing the others in one of the side leg pockets of his black utility pants. Zeke followed suit then grinned almost maniacally.

“Let’s do this!” He yelled, slapping Tobias on the back. Together, they hiked the remainder of the way to the Fringe camp. There were at least twenty tents set up around what remained of a house. The tents were made of scrap cloth of all colors, bleached pale by the sun. As they approached, they saw a woman digging into the reddish brown dirt, a basket of small bones next to her. She dumped the bones into the hole, covering it back up with dirt. She patted down the dirt, filling in the hole, glancing up. She looked back down then her head shot back up when she realized it wasn’t an illusion, there really were two men in black approaching her. She reached next to her and grabbed a wicked looking machete, scrambling to her feet and holding it ready.

“Who the fuck are you?” She snarled, “Raiders?” She was skinny, clearly undernourished, her blond hair faded to a dull yellow, but the fierce expression on her face made it clear she would fight to the death to protect herself and her encampment.

Tobias held up his hands to show that he held nothing in them, Zeke copying the motion. “We aren’t a threat,” Tobias said clearly. “We aren’t raiders.”

The woman nodded, her bright blue eyes still glowing with mistrust and determination even as she realized that it was just the two of them. “Well, you aren’t Bureau. They come in air ships. So, where did you come from?”

“We’re from the city, from Chicago.”

“Chicago?” The machete dropped a bit as the woman stared at them in confusion. In a second, she re-gripped the machete and held it aloft again. “Bullshit,” she spat, “nobody ever leaves the city. The Bureau controls it.”

Zeke shrugged. “Not anymore,” he said. “This is the first camp we’ve visited.”

“We’d like to talk to whomever is in charge,” Tobias continued. “We’re looking to make some allies against the Bureau.”

One blond eyebrow raised. “You actually want to go against the Bureau?” She asked, her voice heavy with skepticism.

Tobias nodded. “Yeah. If you could just take us to somebody who speaks for the camp, we’ll explain everything. Unless that’s you…”

She snorted so Zeke and Tobias took that to mean she wasn’t in charge. She stood, staring at them for a moment, weighing her opinions, then she gave a sharp nod. “All right. I’ll take you to Anson.” Without taking her eyes off them and still holding the knife at the ready, she bent and picked up the basket. She made a sharp gesture with her head. “Go on. I’ll be behind you.”

Zeke and Tobias glanced at each other and moved in the direction she indicated. Zeke glanced over his shoulder to see her following them with the knife poised at their backs. They made their way through alleyways created between tents. The camp wasn’t large but it was neatly laid out, resembling a grid. A few people glanced at them as they walked, one woman clutching her baby close to her chest and pulling down a cloth, effectively slamming a door. As they approached the remainder of the cabin they’d spied earlier, they noticed an old stone well, a small green patch of grass next to it.

“In here.” The blond woman said, coming around them and gesturing them to a tent next to the dilapidated porch of the house. Zeke and Tobias bent to enter the tent and sat down on cushions scattered on the floor. “Tru! Sam! Watch these two!”

Outside of the tent, two shadows appeared. “What’s happening, Liz?” A female voice, her tone strong and sure, asked.

Tobias and Zeke glanced at each other. “Security?” Zeke murmured, his tone low.

Tobias nodded, glancing around at the tent. The flap in front of them was the only one. The bottom of the tent was firmly staked into the ground so if they had to make a fast exit, getting through the rough cloth was going to be a challenge. “Yeah, makes sense. Getting out of here would be tough,” he said, voicing his thoughts in the same low tone.

“If we have to, you throw a knife and I’ll attack straight ahead. They’ll have to come in one at a time. While I’m attacking, you can cut the cloth, then we go left.” Tobias nodded in agreement.

Outside, Liz continued to speak to the two security guards. “We’ve got…visitors.”

“What the fuck?” A second voice, this time male, said. “Visitors?”

“Yeah, they want to speak to someone in charge. Where’s Anson?”

“Inside.”

“I’ll go get him.”

Zeke looked at Tobias. “What do you think?” he asked quietly.

“They didn’t kill us on sight.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You’re such a comfort.”

[a-wolf-among-men]

Modern/Mafia au

pretty much just me going into extreme detail

Name: Diedrich Thresh Laires

Alias’: Thresh, Viper

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Birthdate: 10/24/1994

Country of Origin: Germany

Birthplace: Cottbus, Brandenburg

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Occupation: hired gun, but masquerades by pretending to work as a night guard for his employer.

Language(s): English, German

Religion: Atheist though that’s not a religion

----

Education: Never finished High school

Weapons/Offensive equipment: Various knives that he keeps on him when he’s out doing his job and several modified needles that work to make the death’s seem more like a snake bite from a native species rather than a murder.

-Funds (On person): around 500$

-Funds (In bank): 300k (he doesn’t really use it)

Transportation: Typically walks or takes the bus, drives if it’s an out of town job

---

Blood type: Type O

Height: 5’8

Eye Color: Blue

Hair: Bleached white, but its naturally light blonde and ends just below his shoulder blades.

Skin: somewhat pale, since he’s mostly active during the night time

Figure/build: pretty muscular, but still overall pretty average.

---

Distinguishing marks:

-Tattoo(s): one on his side

-Scars: one going down from his left eye, one on his right breast, one on his left shoulder, on on his right thigh, one on his let collarbone, and one on his left hip right over the bone.

-Piercings: snake bites, and two on his right ear.

-Clothing style: Typically wears high end clothing under his trench coat, Wears mostly long coats, but will sometimes wears peacoats no matter what the weather is. Sometimes he pulls his hair back into a loose ponytail, but he normally wears it down. He also wears jeans and combat boots.

---

Living Arrangements: Currently lives alone in a house in a rural area.

Description of daily surroundings: Living room Bedroom Kitchen

---

Hobbies: Knife throwing and hunting.

Talents/Skills: He’s an excellent knife thrower, he hits his target every time.

Strengths: He’s very cunning, intelligent, manipulative, charming, and charismatic.

Weaknesses: He’s quick to anger, very impatient when it comes to mundane things, isn’t the best when it comes to cheering people up, and heavily emotive people weird him out.

---

Love interest(s): Has had a few, but they all have died either his hands or their own.

Sexual Orientation: bisexual

---

Dominant Hand: Right

Virgin?: *casual laughter* let’s just say he has more notches in his bedpost than he can remember

Drinker?: Yep.

Smoker?: Yep.

Drug user?: Sometimes depends on what drug and if he’s at a party or not

Other addictions?: Nope not if you count killing people, cuz that’s his job

Pet peeves: People asking questions he’s already said the answer to, working with other people during his job, and being called kid or son.

---

Personality: Projects himself as this charming outgoing guy who generally seems very nice, but truly he’s very manipulative and obsessive. Often uncaring towards others feelings or getting angry when they feel a certain way and he’s very arrogant, but he tends to hide this. He’s gotten every good at it only ever really showing that side of him to the lovers he’s kidnapped or bosses he’s had.

Morals: He has few few. He won’t harm a child, but everyone else i fair game. Other than that lovers well being are typically put above his if he actually cares about them.

Fears/Phobias: Death is a huge one. Messing up and getting caught is another one. Though it isn’t really a fear it’s more of a dull unease that drives him to conquer it. Hes nearly died once or twice, but he wasn’t afraid more so sort of uneasy, but he could ignore i same with getting caught. His boss has had to cover his ass multiple times just to keep their organization in check, did he care, no. Not until his job was threatened even then it was more for convenience that he complied. He could’ve just as easily gone solo, but it was easier having someone else find you work than looking for it.

---

Family:

-Parents: Camilla, father is unknown

-Siblings: Lucy younger sister (middle child, 16) and Dominick (youngest, 12)

-Other close relatives: John (stepfather), Diedrich (Uncle)

Offspring: None

Enemies: A few people who are rivals in his trade

Pet(s): A caucasian Ovcharka named Ekkehard.

---

History:

A mother gave birth to a baby boy in the dead of night. She looked down at him wearily and yet his father was not there to see him. She named the boy after his uncle, Diedrich, as she laid in her bathtub cradling the baby in her arms. They lived in a bad neighborhood and the mother’s rather sexual occupation brought unusual visitors most of the time. As the child grew he would be instructed to stay out of their shared room every time a stranger came over. While growing up without a father, his uncle soon filled that role for him once he moved in to help support the small family of two.

When Diedrich turned six they left their town in Germany with the hope that they could forge a better life in America. His mother got a part time job at a cafe and his uncle worked his way up to be a warden. The young boy, despite usuallybeing shy, somehow managed to make three friends at the public school he went to. He’d get bullied and teased for his thick accent and yet his friends were always there to stick up for him as he eventually learned to stand up for himself. The only thing that really affected his childhood was seeing his uncle brutally murdered in front of him at age 7. He was quite shaken up after this incident. Something changed in the once bright eyes young boy he became more closed off and shy as opposed to his outward and open nature he previously had.

His friends were there to support him of course, but during high school he became more violent. Dragging his friends down a rather odd path with him. He would start fights, piss off teachers, and generally all around be ansshole, but every other student loved him for it. He wouldn’t come home for days at a time leading to heated arguments with his mother, he moved in with his friend’s brother at age 16 where he learned the illegal trade that is drug dealing. From that he worked his way up the path of being a hired gun, which he still is today. He’s known for the quick and easy way he goes about things. His main employer who gives him his contracts allows him to pose as a night guard to give an excuse to the various scars and cuts that’ll show up on his body.

A small hatred of his mother began to brew inside of him as he grew. He would refuse to answer her calls and threaten to call the police on her every time she showed up at his door to check up on him. He blamed her for every problem he had and avoided her so much he didn’t even know he had siblings or a stepfather until he was forced to meet them when his mother died unexpectedly and he was forced to take his siblings into his care. His sister utterly hated him, while his younger brother was utterly fascinated by him, since he’d always wanted a brother.

He of course only supported them because he had to, nothing more, nothing less. He kept his basement locked and kept the key on him at all times. After all how was he going to explain the various lovers he kept locked in there to them if they were to ever escape. He wouldn’t. After a heated argument with his sister moved out as soon as she turned 18 taking her brother with her. He hasn’t seen them since. Nor does he want to. Those two years of constantly being on edge were enough. He spent the rest of his life focusing on his work until the entire organization his employer worked for got exposed and he was arrested. He died at age 40 by being hung by one of his cell mates.