#GUN METAL BUSH

[tanishqcorporationrajkot]

Manufacturing gun metal bronze metal parts according to drawing, size, and specification of any required grade compassion

[microcare-group]

We are a well-reputed gun metal bush manufacturers company. Our technicians and designers take care of each detail and specification you provide.

[josephquinnswhore]

replicate failure to protect - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel cannot bare to lose you, not the same way he lost Sarah. Through his own self declared failure to protect.

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: ptsd episode, panic attack, mention of past attempted suicide, reader gets fucked up ig, blood, murder, guns, violence, age gap- unspecified. Established relationship.

It feels euphoric, the numbness that spreads from your side up your arms, parts of your body are fizzing with a lightheaded tingle as the blood seeps out of your body. Past the point of pain, the searing sensation of a dull arrowhead being pulled forward, taut at the hands of a single raider camouflaging into the surrounding bush—whistled silently through the air. The metal savagely tears through your flesh and stops right below your bottom rib on the left side.

As you lie on the ground, you’re unable to make sense of the blurred shapes and colours of the overgrown foliage on the slanted buildings, the sound of explosive gunfire is muffled by the ringing in your ears—you feel something. A tugging sensation, one that vibrates through the arrowhead and emits a protestful rumble from your lungs.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

You can barely make him out, as he kneels above you, having snapped off the end of the arrow and tossed it behind him, knowing better than to take his eyes off of you for one moment. He’d looked away once, when he’d apprehensively watched you drop to the ground once the arrow had hit. In a moment of necessity to eliminate the enemy.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

He knew tearing his gaze off of you a second time was a death sentence.

It had happened once before—the split microsecond that his deep brown teary eyes had sought reassurance from his younger brother in a moment of pure desperation. Pleading for any kind of comfort his brother could promise that she would survive, but she’d slipped away in his arms. The life in her eyes had faded the moment he looked away. Missing the last moments of light in her eyes that solitudes life.

This could not happen to you.

His aching fingers tear off a segment off his flannel below the last button, bending down to manoeuvre your body to slide the fabric under your back, wrapping it around the arrow to keep it stable.

The crimson blood had begun to seep through the flannel before he had finished tying a knot in the shredded fabric, even the loose strands of twine were stained.

But the blood.. your blood covers his hands, the colour burns the back of his eyelids. A burning sensation rises up his throat at the recognition. As he leans over you, the blood makes contact with his flannel, smearing a messy, damp pattern onto his clothes. He was reliving hell all over again two decades later.

But he broke his own rule, tearing his focus gaze away from your face to finish this task, it had been mere seconds of the process. He looked away a second time.

Speaking to you absentmindedly, his gaze returns to your face, dread filling his chest when he sees that your lips are slightly parted. The stress line in your forehead has ceased as your head is lulled to the side, the supple skin of your cheeks is grazed on the surface of the dirt on the ground.

Those beautiful, teary orbs that had just been staring at him with an unfocused gaze were now clamped shut.

A part of Joel wants to give up, reliving the traumatic event that had torn apart his will to live two decades ago, and left him with physical and psychological scars.

“No.. no, no no!” The shout is primal, a clear denial of acceptance that this was your fate.

The sight of you sends a jostle of dread through his veins. All he could see was himself re-living through the devastation of losing Sarah. On the account that he had failed once again to protect someone he loves.

Gathering his thoughts and thinking fast, he intertwined his hands and placed them in the centre of your chest, ignoring the ache in his knees against the crackled rubble of the concrete ground. He positions himself above you, bringing a inhuman-like strength into pounding his hands against your chest as he begins his compressions.

“Not you, not you baby.” He utters desperately, voice thick with emotion.

Unaware of his little brother’s presence—Joel’s eyes darken, black in colour and exerting a burning gaze through your eyelids, prompting you to open them.

To look at him. To prove he hadn’t failed you too.

An exhausted, broken cry rolls between his lips into the stale air between you, spit flying from his mouth as his actions become less precise and more desperate and harmful. Ignoring the fact that he had heard a substantial crack vibrate through his palms.

The burning sensation is all over, his shoulders, arms, wrists, knees. His heart.

“You’re not doin’ this, y’hear me? You have’ta stay.. you stay f’me baby.”

All the while your body is unmoving, limbs shaking with each downward thrust of his hands. “Just open ‘em for me, just look at me.”

Tommy watches the horrific scene, unaware of what your state was like—but he had seen Joel live through this once before.

“I ain’t mad at’cha baby. Jus’ open ‘em for me.”

Joel is begging you—if you can hear him, he can’t will himself to bring his fingers to your neck or wrist to feel your pulse point, petrified of feeling nothing.

His resolve crumbles when he sees Tommy, unable to stop.

“Joel.. Joel stop. Let me check, alright?” His voice hadn’t been this soft and insistent since he had pried his niece's cold body from Joel’s arms to bury her.

Joel falls backward onto the ground out of exhaustion, the ache in his chest is pressing upward into his throat, squeezing the life out of his oesophagus making him feel dizzy.

“She’s alive.” Tommy murmurs, turning to look at his older brother.

FOLLOWING MORNING

“You look like shit, Joel. Have you moved since we’ve been back?” He hears Tommy’s scornful voice, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes off of you. Watching the subtle rise and fall of the blanket that covers your chest.

“I ain’t movin’.”

Not an inch, not once did he allow his gaze to tear away from your chest, the proof that you were still alive. Some semblance of hope he was clinging onto that you would make it.

“You see her chest movin’?” He utters to his younger brother, seeking reassurance.

Without so much as a wink of sleep, he had begun wondering if he was hallucinating the faint movement from sleep deprivation.

“Course I do. You’re just tired.” Tommy reassured, holding out a mug of warm, black coffee.

Joel’s movements are piloted, automatic. Stiff as his arm lifts the mug to his lips, swallowing coffee with a bitter aftertaste of anxiety. The same heavy feeling builds in his chest for the second time he’d returned with you.

The pressure of his anxiety escalates, unable to focus his vision of you, or Tommy’s concerns he speaks, lungs stuttering and struggling to inhale as his hand begins to tremble.

Just shy of his fifties, Joel Miller was having a fucking panic attack. Again.

“Joel,” the weight of his younger brother’s hand digging into his shoulder with a firm grasp, withdraws him from his dissociative state, lying on his bed.

Tommy was staring down at Joel with a knowing expression. “She’s wakin’ up.” He repeats a second time.

Tommy and the coffee are long forgotten, set aside as Joel rises to his feet, looming over you in heavyset silence of anticipation and exigency.

His hands grasp onto your cheeks, cradling them as he lets out a long exhale of relief, staring into the familiar colour of your irises.

“Baby I thought you’d left me..” he utters shakily between the two of you, thick tears fall from his wet eyes down his face.

He watches as your dry lips part, a hoarse croak rolls off of your tongue in an attempt to speak.

“Don’t say nothin’, save your strength.”

His hands tighten around the small mug, tucking his thumb into the handle instead of four of his fingers, for the reason that his hands were too large to navigate the small curated gap.

Thoughtfully, he’d filled it only halfway with water and left it by your shared bed the previous evening, in the expectation of you regaining consciousness.

“Here,” he murmurs, with his free hand he urges you to tilt your head backwards. “There you go.”

Bringing the rim of his mug to your lips, he slowly tilts it upward until a small amount of water has seeped into your lips, allowing a small relief for the uncomfortably dry surface of your mouth.

The second time he encourages a little more, brushing the single few strands of hair from your face as you begin to sip on the water with a loud slurp.

When he’s satisfied you’ve had enough, he pulls the mug away and sets it back on the bedside table.

Your lips are tugged upward in a small smirk, the smallest huff of a laugh vibrates through your nose, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Straight back to annoyin’ me huh? Seems like my girl is feelin’ more like herself already.”

The coo sends your heart through an extra murmur, pulse erratically causing the flesh in your neck to pulsate.

“Know.. you..” your voice is strained, and hoarse from lack of water. “Love it.”

A hum reverberated through his throat in agreeance. Placing his hand on top of your own, clasping his fingers in between your own.

“I do love you.”

For a first confession, the words linger heavily in the air between you. An intense gaze is shared before you could process the weight behind them.

“I love.. you.” Taking a wheezing breath, you continue, the attempt to squeeze his fingers albeit weak—conveys the message. “Even if you.. cracked my ribs.”

His golden complexion reinforces a bright pink hue across his cheeks and ears. “Y’heard that, huh? I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Blinking lazily, you nod once, waving off his apology. “That an’ everything else.”

Continuing on from a brief pause, you place your second hand on top of his, grounding him, offering him a sense of security and reassurance he didn’t often receive as self appointed protector.

“You saved me.”

The look in your eye expresses deep gratitude and understanding, promising him that you wouldn’t end up like Sarah, that he would never have to endure pain like that ever again.

Not as long as you lived.

“No, baby. You saved me.”

There are many things you’ve saved Joel from, but he leaves them unspoken, because you know, whether or not he’s mentioned it—you know.

“Get some sleep Joel..”

He obeys, sliding under the thick duvet beside you in the bed you shared, unwilling to break the hold of your hands.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Sixteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, straight up murder, gun/knife violence, drug use GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, all may not apply]

Info: Ghost is too pleased with you over something he really shouldn’t be. You say things, his feelings get hurt. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

The cool, end of summer winds blew over the bushes you crouched behind. The conversation between Ghost and Adam could be heard in choppy bits, mostly Adam’s side of the dialogue. His pained voice and sharp yelp carried loud and clear over to you. As you heard him shouting for his friends, you couldn’t help but pop your head up despite Ghost’s strict instructions to do the opposite. You couldn’t just ignore the possibility that a group of men might be charging at him any moment now. If you could help, even just a little bit, you would. Though it seemed to be an unneccesary fear, scanning the area quickly you noticed that the yard was devoid of any movement and the living room light in the cabin had been turned out. They’d abandoned their friend, no doubt barricading themselves inside the cabin at that very moment. Thinking quickly, you knew they all probably had their phones on them. If they hadn’t already called the cops, they would be calling them soon. 

Pulling out your phone, you hid it behind your jacket sleeve, turning the brightness down. Once you’d wriggled around enough to safely switch it on and do some quick googling, you discovered that unfortunately for anyone in the area, the average police response time was about forty five minutes. But, as you looked up the county maps, along with the address to your cabin… you realized it might take them much longer to arrive. The lake sat directly on the county line, the county to the left had a police department fifty seven minutes away. While the one on the right had a department closer, yet inaccessible during certain hours. 

A draw bridge along the river rose up and lowered manually, monitored twenty-four hours round the clock, seven days a week. It took five whole minutes to open, five whole minutes to close, and however long it took a large boat to chug along through the gap. If it were you, being tormented by Ghost and a boat was stopping help from getting to you… well, rightfully you’d be livid. Though you found yourself lacking the sympathy you should be experiencing for these boys. Of course they were horrible people, but violence wasn’t usually appealing to you in the least bit. You’d much rather Ghost confiscate their phones and drop them off anonymously at the police department on your way back to the city. Whatever they’ve done, there’s bound to be a shred of evidence on at least one of their cellphones. 

You might’ve yelled out to suggest it, but you realized that would be very unwise considering you’d already broken your promise to keep your head down. So you stayed down, your phone now shoved back into your pocket with a timer set to vibrate in thirty minutes. You took a moment to strategize in the event that you needed to get the hell out of dodge at the first sign of flashing lights. 

“Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!” Adam’s shrill voice rang out through the moonlit nightscape. Once again, unable to help yourself, you popped your head up, parting the leaves and twigs to peer through. You could barely make out a struggling figure on the ground, the large truck was obstructing most of the view, only allowing you to see beneath the vehicle.

You heard the unmistakable sound of metal singing, a sharp, shrill *schinggg*, followed by a shock-delayed roar of pain. The sounds weren’t quite right, the scream was in its place, but the blade and the squelch were in the wrong spots. You hadn’t heard the blade go in, you were only hearing it come out. You waited for a wet thud, but never heard one. Just rustling of clothes, Ghost’s unintelligible grumbling and footsteps heading away from you. Two sets of footsteps.

He hadn’t hurt him so badly that he couldn’t walk, just enough that he would be lightheaded from the blood loss within the next half hour. Adam stumbled in front of Ghost who directed his jerky, uncoordinated movements by his grip on the back of Adam’s shirt. You lost sight of them when their footsteps changed from soft thuds to louder *clunks*, they must’ve reached the porch.

“Say ‘Hi’ Adam.” Ghost shoved him toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Adam struggle to comprehend his simple order. “Can you fucking knock at least?”

“Shit, I guess.” Adam shook his head and cleared his throat, his arms still ziptied behind his back. He tapped the bottom of the door with his sneaker, kicking just loud enough for those inside to hear. “Hey! Brandon! Zach? Zachary! Zach I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door I’ll deny your membership!”

They could hear hushed, frantic voices behind the door as his frat brothers tried to decide their course of action. Adam was getting impatient, kicking at the door handle forcefully in hopes to break it off and gain entry by force. 

“Here, I’ll give it a try buddy.” Ghost said, patting his shoulder before gripping him by the hair and bashing his forehead into the solid redwood door. “It’s rude to leave a guest at the door!” Ghost shouted ‘knocking’ on the door repeatedly with the side of Adam’s head.

“Fuck! Open the fuckin’ door!” Adam breathed in short, shallow inhales as if he might hyperventilate from the stress. His lungs starting to constrict and make his face turn red, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as his breathing became labored.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Ghost asked with a slight laugh, “Breathing in all that frat boy bullshit caught up to you?” 

“I-I have asthma.” He wheezed, choosing to save his breath instead of wasting it by feeding into Ghost’s deliberate emotional jab. 

“Are you gonna die if you don't get it?” Ghost asked annoyedly, seemingly miffed that he wasn’t able to get a real reaction out of him.

“M-may… maybe.” He coughed, dry and raspy, from deep in his throat. Adam was instinctively trying to reach up to hold his neck, unable to because of the zip ties, realizing he couldn’t only made things worse. Being denied the simple instinctive human reaction caused his panic to flare up into a frenzy, the formerly sure footed, bull headed, asshole was reduced to a scared kid on his knees, choking on air as he fought against his own body to breathe.

“Shit.” Ghost sighed and rapped on the window with his leathered knuckles. “For real guys, get this little shit his inhaler. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust the window.” He yelled, smacking at the glass with his palm. 

“You come in first!” A voice from behind the door shouted as the doorknob jiggled loosely, practically hanging by a thread from the beating Adam had given it.

“Sure.” Ghost called out, certainly not planning to follow that demand. He grabbed Adam by his shoulders and lifted him up. Forcing him to stand on his own two feet before shouting for them to open the door again.

The door slowly opened just a crack, a fist holding a long knife used to filet fish lashed out wildly, aiming at everything and nothing at the same time. Ghost was thankful for his quick reflexes, as much as he wanted to ensure these guys didn’t live to see the morning sun, he promised he’d only scare them. So, he pulled Adam back and kicked the wrist connected to the hand holding the knife, causing the wielder to drop it with a hiss of pain. Ghost stomped on the blade, drawing his foot backward to slide it out of the way and out of reach.

“Great job, almost stabbed your buddy here.” He grunted, hefting Adam up and pushing him forward. “Somebody catch him, get him his inhaler.” He said in a firm voice, expecting nothing but compliance. 

Adam fell to his knees and a lamp flickered on before illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue, allowing Ghost to see what was waiting for him behind the door. What he saw made him laugh out loud: the couch flipped on its side, the kitchen table pushed against the couch as some kind of make shift ‘fort’ and four guys with pots and pans for weapons. 

“Where’s Gordon? Didn’t realize I was walking in to Hell’s Kitchen.” He chuckled, flipping out both his knives, making sure to flick Adam’s blood at his closest frat brother, just for fun.

“What do you want man? Why? His inhaler?” The youngest and most meek of the group, Zachary spoke up, “If you’re gonna kill us why get him his inhaler?”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?” He laughed, wiping the leftover blood on his jeans. “Get the guy his inhaler, please.” He gritted out.

“Alright.” Wyatt nodded, coming out from beneath the kitchen table, he warily made his way to one of the bedrooms and returned quickly with Adam’s rescue inhaler. 

“Great job,” Ghost rubbed the two blades together in a crisscross motion before turning one toward Zach. “Get me everyone’s phones… keys too.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded quickly, tossing his own phone on the floor at Ghost’s feet. “Brandon, please.” He breathed out, thrusting out his hand impatiently when his friend didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I’m not giving that psycho my goddamn phone!” He yelled, shoving Zachary away from him.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Ghost growled, stomping over to yank Zachary back to his feet after scooping up his phone from the floor. “Hand it over, like I said, I’m not gonna kill you. Just do what I say and I’ll leave.”

“Th-thanks?” Zachary scrambled back out of Ghosts grip, giving him Wyatts phone before he joined Adam and his other friend on the floor.

“Mhm.” Ghost nodded over his shoulder at him, watching him move to regroup with his friends. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun around, only getting clipped on the shoulder by the cast iron skillet Brandon was holding over his head as if preparing to bring it down on him again.

“Goddamnit!” Ghost yelled, rolling his shoulder and feeling the muscles pinch uncomfortably. Holding both knives in a back handed grip allowed him to swing them closed quickly, holding them in his palms tightly as he wound up to punch Brandon. “Tryin’ to be civil here.” He growled, connecting his fist to brandon’s chin in an upper cut hard enough to make Rocky cry.

His target dropped the skillet and it clamored to the ground in a loud crash, followed by the fool who thought it would be a good idea to hit Ghost with a frying pan. Once Brandon was on his knees, his mouth bloodied and split open, Ghost crouched in front of him and held his hand out. Instead of receiving Brandon's phone, Ghost was kindly gifted a spray of bloody spit over the white of his mask. He breathed in and let out a tired sigh, standing up he brought his knee up quickly and aimed at the same spot, this time getting a bigger, louder reaction from Brandon. 

The yowl Brandon let out was ear piercing, with shaking hands he tossed his phone to Ghost and cupped his palm beneath his chin, spitting out globs of blood and something… meaty.

“Yuh mad meh bighth ma tong ov.” He looked up at Ghost, a sniveling mess of red saliva and sobs, holding up his hand where he held the tip of his tongue in his palm.

“I didn’t make you do that. You made a stupid choice and you got a shitty result.” Ghost scoffed, and shouted to Zach, the easiest to deal with out of them all, he was the most impressionable. “Go put this on ice.” He gestured to the hunk of flesh dismissively, groaning in frustration when he heard very loud, very messy, alcohol tainted vomiting coming from the right of him. 

“You fuckin’ serious?” He half laughed, half barked. Shaking his head, he snatched the tongue and walked to the kitchen, thankful that all the cabins here had a practically identical floor plan. Muttering to himself he grabbed a clean solo cup and filled it with ice from the fridge, dropping the flesh into the cup and returning to thrust it into Brandons hand.

“Don’t lose it, they can sew that shit back on.” He sighed, gathering up the phones he took a seat in one of the kitchen table chairs, facing the group to keep an eye on them

“Not a single one of you called the cops?” He laughed, scrolling through call history on two phones at once. “Why’s that?” 

“W-”

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.” Adam coughed, glaring at Zachary.

“Let the boy speak.” Ghost waved off Adam, taking on the torch of authority over the group for the time being.

“I- well,” Zach swallowed hard, it was clear that the kid was in over his head. This wasn’t his normal friend group, he stuck out like a sore thumb, he was the lackey and being the lackey of the group is just about as well paying as being a doormat. “Adam, I have to. You know I have to.”

“No you don’t!” He lunged toward Zachary, with how they were all acting Ghost was almost positive if he left now they’d all end up killing each other anyway.

“Shut up.” Ghost barked, making a frisbee from one of the cellphones, catching Adam in the outer corner of his already bruised left eye. He hissed in pain, but gave no more complaints.

“Go on.” Ghost nodded to Zach, standing up so he could spin his chair around and straddle it, using the backrest to lean against comfortably as he listened.

“We didn’t rent this cabin.” Zachary spat out quickly, looking pale in the face as Adam smacked him in the back of the head, muttering something about ‘stupid freshies’.

“That’s it?” Ghost laughed, smacking both hands on his knees, rubbing his leather palms against his jeans.

“We broke in, it’s not ours.” Zachary nodded frantically, hoping the quicker he spilled his guts, the quicker the ordeal would be over with. “I’m supposed to be gettin-”

“Inducted into the frat, I know, I heard.” Ghost sighed, standing up and grabbing the back of Zachary’s shirt. “Look, take a good look. Do these idiots seem like the kind of people you want to be spending everyday of your life with for the foreseeable future?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, hands shaking with tremors of anxiety.

“Good choice. Did you drive here?” Ghost asked, getting a nod in response. “Great, it’s your car right?”

“Yes.” Zach nodded again, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with his ‘friends’. Ghost pulled out the phones, letting Zachary take his.

“Now, before you leave I want you to make a quick little post and send a few emails, okay?” Ghost said, pointing to the cellphone screen. “Can I trust you to do that Zach?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He nodded, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve airdropped a bunch of screenshots from their phones. Email them to the Dean and the head of your frat house. Probably should take a good look at them yourself. You should know what you were about to agree to partake in.” Ghost said, kicking his boot straight into Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to tackle him. “That’s enough!”

Ghost shoved him to the ground, wrestling with him until he could get his hands behind his back. Busy with the wad of zipties he was pulling from his pockets, he didn’t notice Adam had recovered enough to join in on the scuffle. Just as he was pulling the ziptie around Wyatts wrists, Adam’s foot landed on top of Ghost, connecting with the back of his neck. A blinding pain rippled through Ghost, so quickly, so intensely that a wave of nausea washed over him like a tsunami. He felt green as he rolled off of Wyatt and out from under Adam who still had his heel on his shoulder. Ghost stood up, stumbling to his feet he forced himself to swallow the bile that crept up his esophagus. While Adam fell to the floor, unable to catch himself due to his restraints.

Ghost saw nothing but crimson red when he caught his balance, flipping out both knives in a backhanded hold, giving him the use of his fists and the convenience of a downward slash of his blade if needed. With one fist in front of his face, his other shot out to pop Adam on the cheek, tilting his fist to drag the cold steel down his ‘assailant’s’ arm. Blooming ichor cropped up through the deep split in the flesh, the heat of the fresh wound warming the blade for its next mark. Adam screamed, his hands and arms wriggling in an attempt to hold his bicep instinctually as he took in the sight of the gushing blood, in his panicked state he did what came to his mind first, trying to squish the meat back together by shrugging his shoulder up, tucking his chin there and pressing his arm against the floor.

“Listen here you little shit.” Ghost said, crouching down over top of the wailing guy beneath him. “I promised I wouldn’t kill any of you, I don’t like breaking promises. But, I’m not above it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Adam yelled, thrashing around, spilling his blood across the floor. Wyatt whimpering near the two of them as he pushed himself away with his feet on the slick floor.

“I would.” Ghost said, standing up and resting his booted foot on Adam’s skull to apply enough pressure to solidify his threat while he turned his attention back to Zachary. “You done?”

“I think so.” He nodded, handing Ghost the phone so he could approve the email and facebook post.

“Perfect, you should major in journalism. They’ll be begging for more on this story, might as well cash out.” Ghost said with a dark, deep laugh. “Nice to meet you Zach, get the fuck out.” Ghost shoved the phone back into his chest along with the handful of car keys.

Zachary took his phone and his set of keys, dropping the rest on the ground. He stood awkardly as though he weren’t positive that Ghost had meant what he said. Scanning the floor he took in the mess of furniture, blood, beer cans, and the quaking forms of the three frat brothers that he would be leaving behind.

“Wait. Where’s Justin?” Zachary asked, spinning around to look about the room, noticing the last member of their group was missing.

“Do you always travel in a pack?” Ghost grumbled, shoving Brandon and Adam together, lacing two more zipties through theirs to connect them. Then he brought Wyatt over, attaching him to the other two in the same manner, “Walk.”

“How do you expect us to walk like this?” Wyatt asked, a scowl on his face while the huddle moved slowly toward the coat closet near the front door.

“Well you’re walkin’ aren’t you?” Ghost growled, opening the door and uncerimoniously pushing them into the closet. He shut the door and grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier, pushing it beneath the closet door handle to wedge it closed.

“Zach!” Ghost yelled, seeing the boy coming out of the kitchen with a large knife. “Seriously? I was starting to like you!”

“Wait!” Zachary screeched, throwing his hands up and dropping the knife to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, i- i was just grabbing it to pop their tires.”

“Huh.” Ghost said, letting his body relax ever so slightly. “Okay well, did you find the other one?”

The yelling, screams and thumping coming from inside the cabin were too much for you to sit back and allow to go on, unchecked. You had decided after the loudest, most pained scream you’d heard so far rang out into the night, that you could no longer obey Ghost’s strict orders. After shoving your small backpack into Ghost’s larger one, you put it on and pulled the straps tighter to fit your smaller frame. Once it was secure enough that it wouldn’t hinder your ability to move swiftly, you made your way to the truck closest to you, hoping to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet despite the ginger steps you took, occasionally glancing toward the window and the front door of the cabin, willing Ghost to come out so you wouldn’t have to get any closer. After passing the truck, you ducked behind the Mazda, using it as cover when you spotted the front door slowly opening.

Peering through the dark glass of the car window you were able to make out a figure heading your way. Immediately retracting your sigh of relief when you noticed the height of the approaching person wasn’t nearly as tall as what you were expecting. As the figure lifted its head, rounding the corner of the house, your worries were confirmed. It wasn’t Ghost.

The weight of the possibility that Ghost really was the one crying out in pain was a pressure on your chest that went far beyond suffocating. It was chest crushing, lung squeezing, and breath halting. Without thinking you spun quickly, the gravel being displaced under your heel made a noise loud enough to have you clapping your hands over your mouth as you panted in short breaths. The soft rustling of the grass from the stranger’s movements stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence blanketing the area. For a moment it was just you and your uncontrolled breathing, the adrenaline saturated blood rushing through you as your heart beat echoed in your ears.

The illusion of being in a bubble of silent safety was shattered in less than a second. A rough hand grabbed you by the handle of your backpack and pulled you up to your feet and against the side of the car.

”So it was you.” The male voice from behind you sneered, squishing your face against the hood of the car. “Where’s the other girl?”

”She’s not here, she left earlier. W-way before I came over here.” You lied, panicking as you swallowed the rest of your anxiety induced word vomit in hopes that he’d believe the shortened version.

“So it’s just you and the sissy-boy, huh?” He prodded, trying to unzip your back pack. “What ya got in here? You stealing shit too?”

”No!” You wormed your way out of one of the straps, turning uncomfortably in your attacker’s firm grasp to pry the bag from his hands. It’s one thing to disobey very clear and concise instructions. It’s a worse thing to get caught because of your disobedience. But it would be more than a metaphorical death sentence for Ghost’s gun to end up in the hands of someone else.

“No, I haven’t stolen anything.” Your voice evening out after being raised an octave from the initial startled ‘no’ from your lips.

”Then what’s in the bag?” He questioned aggressively.

In that moment, you knew you had two choices. You could give it up or have it forcibly taken from you. Though there was a third option tapping at the back of your head, the little devil on your shoulder pulling on your ear and hoping you’d take the chance.

”This.” With your decision made, no matter how poor, you followed through. Pulling out the pistol from the bag, pointing it directly at his chest.

”Whoa! Whoa, easy.” He laughed nervously, putting his hands up and backing off as his eyes darted around, looking for an out.

”The trunk.” Your voice stern in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Open the trunk, get in.”

You gestured to the back of the car with the gun, watching him closely while he moved with slow, calculated steps. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but by the time you noticed, it was too late. The very second he opened the trunk, he tried shoving you inside.

Wether it was an act of the gods or a a quick tug from your personal imp, you’ll never know, but somehow your finger pulled the trigger. A loud blast echoed through the trees around you, the man stumbled back, holding his chest. The recoil of the pistol startled you, though the realization that the gun really had been loaded this whole time, startled you even more.

“Shit.” Ghost’s body flew on autopilot when the crack of the gun reached the cabin. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, but only one stuck out clearly. Only one held his attention. You.

Zach hit the floor, his hands over his head when he registered the sound for what it was, his ‘friends’ shouting in panic behind the closet door. He made not effort to free them nor to move at all, simply frozen in fear as Ghost stepped over him, through the threshold of the front door. Jumping from the porch he hit the ground in a full sprint, only stopping when he caught sight of you, arms out in front of you with the gun still in your hands.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard muffled words as a gentle leather hand peeled the gun from your grasp. His hands searching you for any injuries, satisfied that the only wound you’d sustained was mental, he scooted you away, shoving his arms under the armpits of the corpse before hefting the body from the ground and into the open trunk behind you. After making sure he really was dead, Ghost wiped the blood off on the man’s jeans and carefully guided you to the side of the car, having you sit down.

”You’ve got good aim for such a little doe.” He said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a tiny bit. “Here I was thinkin’ it was deer season.”

”No?” He sighed, patting your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips before he straightened up. “Too soon?”

“Just a little bit.” You said, looking up at him from were you sat.

”Don’t cry, it’s okay.” He said, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about nothin’ okay?”

”Promise?”

“Promise.” He nodded, holding out his pinky finger and waggling it at you until you linked yours with his. “Good girl.” His voice was rough, but it was clear it wasn’t from anger. His body language was relaxed, like he was relieved.

He walked back to the trunk of the car and hummed to himself, a song that triggered a memory for you. It felt like years had passed since you’d heard it, but the beat came to the forefront of your mind with an image in tow. Followed by another, then another, and another. Ghost was humming the lyrics, but your mind was filling in the the missing instrumentals.

While you were busy trying to connect where and when you’d heard that tune, Ghost was busy cutting the shirt off the corpse of the frat boy you’d shot. With the blood soaked fabric out of the way the gaping wound in his flesh was easily visible. He let out a low whistle as he took in the damage from the close range shot. He shook his head with a little laugh and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, subtly giving his half-hard cock a bit more room.

He steeled himself for the next bit of his task, finding the bullet. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms to reposition his sleeves without having to touch them, before he sunk the middle and ring finger of both hands into the wound to pull it apart, lifting one side he dug around and pried open the rip in the muscle.

“Gross.” He whispered, making a gagging sound when he heard the wet tearing of the fascia, feeling the stringy substance snapping under his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice, trying to get your attention without startling you.

“Huh?” You turned your head, only registering you were being spoken to after he snapped his fingers at you.

“Can you get me some gloves from the little side zippy?” He asked, pointing to the backpack now at your feet. “And there’s a thingy of wipes in the big front zippy.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You nodded, moving slowly as you came down from the chemical rush you’d just experienced.

“No, no.” He quickly shook his head when you stood up to walk over to him. “Just set ‘em up there.” He gestured to the back windshield with his elbow, so you did as he asked, recognizing that he was doing something that was most definitely unpleasant to witness.

“Thanks doll.” He nodded, bending down and wiping the blood on his leather gloves onto the ground, dragging his fingers back and forth through the grass.

He stepped on the tip of each glove to pull them off his hands, quickly switching over to the latex gloves to continue the dirty work he shielded you from. You’d been through enough, he already felt immense guilt for what he’d brought you into, there was no need to add insult to injury. Ghost picked up where he left off, prodding around beneath the flesh, he realized he’d have to dig a bit deeper. Separating the tissue from the muscle he forced his flat hand underneath the left pectoral as far as possible.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his middle finger following the rippled meat until he lost the bullet’s path.

“Bad news bears.” He called out to you, popping his head around the side of the trunk. “I need you to look in the toolbox in the back of that truck. Put on some gloves first though.”

“What? Why?” You asked, snapping the latex into place on your fingers after pulling out a pair for yourself.

“See if he’s got some bolt cutters.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If he doesn’t have bolt cutters get me a hammer or crowbar. It’d be sweet if he has a crowbar.”

“A crowbar?” You asked out of curiosity, then thought better of it. “Actually, nevermind.”

You climbed up into the truckbed and lifted the toolbox lid. There were no bolt cutters, only small wire cutters. Two hammers, a plethora of screwdrivers and a random assortment of metal fittings and other equipment. Buried beneath a pile of ratchet straps you found the crowbar.

“Oh hell yeah.” Ghost chuckled, taking it from you as you held it out at a distance.

“Uh, probably should cover your ears.” He said apologetically.

He pulled the corpse from the trunk, letting it thump on the gravel so he could plant his foot firmly on the abdomen, leaning forward with the curved side of the crowbar in his hands, the flat side pressed into the space between his ribs, just beneath the left pec.

Ghost put his weight into the crowbar, sinking it in with one firm, downward shove. It was a difficult process, one that needed a balance between force and delicacy, Ghost was only experienced at one of those attributes. He pushed too hard, going through the connective tissue between the ribs as planned and down into the chest cavity.

A wet, goopy pop met his ears before the blood began to seep out of the punctured viscera hidden in the chest cavity.

“Oh, yum.” He muttered under his breath as he wiggled the crowbar back and forth as he pulled it up out of the soft substance he’d pierced. The noise was similar to the suction of pulling your fingers out of a jar of hair gel.

Ghost left the crowbar sticking up out of the wound to jog over to the stack of firewood lined up against the cabin, grabbing a thickly cut log. Passing it back and forth between his hands as he returned to the body.

Placing the log on the torso as he resumed humming the song from earlier. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder, seeing his bloody hand on the open lid of the trunk for balance as he stepped up onto the end of the crowbar sticking out of the corpse.

Pushing down on it with his body weight, using the firewood as leverage to crack open the rib cage. You felt sick to your stomach when you saw him jump on the crowbar, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of bone breaking under the force of his movements.

Grateful that you couldn’t see what was happening below the car, only having seen Ghost’s upper body’s part in the act. Nauseated, you pulled the pink silk from your face, gagging loudly as you held your stomach and bent over.

“Shit, baby you okay?” Ghost asked, coming around to check on you. He hesitated, knowing his hands were covered in… unsavory substances.

“Get back.” Your hand out behind you to stop him from coming closer. “Just do what you need to do and let me throw up in peace.”

“Oh, princess I’m sorry.” He said softly, unsure of what to do. He was in clean up mode, he’d never had company during this process before. So he did what he knew to be necessary.

He couldn’t have you throwing up and leaving any more evidence of your presence at this crime scene. He grimaced, wiping his latex gloves with a baby wipe from the pack you’d set out. Then unzipped a pocket on his backpack, pulling out a large ziploc bag filled with smaller ones. He dumped the smaller ones out, handing you the bigger, quart sized one.

“If you’re gonna upchuck, make sure it gets in the bag.” He said patting your back, nodding at your grunt of acknowledgment and leaving you to your own devices.

With the rib cage popped open, he wedged his hand beneath it, feeling the squishy, slippery surface of one of his your victim’s lungs. He braved it by clenching his teeth tightly to distract himself from the sound and sensation accompanying his methodical squeezing of the organ.

“Finally.” He sighed in satisfaction when he felt the hard lump of metal buried in the lung. He pinched it to keep the bullet from escaping his hand, not wanting to go through the disgusting process again.

Now with it between his fingers, he was able to dig around with his other fingers to pull the lung out of the chest cavity to access the area with both hands to dislodge the bullet.

“Got it!” He said proudly, dropping it into one of the small ziploc bags.

He dumped the body back into the trunk of the car, not bothering to removed the crowbar or slide the lung back where it belonged. Slamming the trunk shut he cleaned up his leather gloves until they were good as new, switching them out once more.

He disposed of his latex gloves in the same ziploc bag as the bullet, then made his way to you once again. He was pleased to see that you had not thrown up and the color was returning to your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, rubbing your back as he picked up the bag and started walking toward the woods with you.

“Hey what’s that song you-“ You started, thinking if you heard the name of it you might be able to place it with the memory attached.

“Zachary, buddy.” Ghost grumbled, hearing the boys panicked squeal as he emerged from the cabin with his phone flashlight training on the two of you.

“Who is that?” He pointed to you, causing you to turn fully to face him. “Oh my god, you’re that girl.”

Ghost threw up his hands in frustration, dragging one down the side of his mask. “This is my lovely lady.”

“Leaving?” Ghost asked, putting his left hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Y-yeah.” Zach nodded, moving slowly as he walked toward his car which just so happened to be the Mazda.

“We still cool?” Ghost asked, signaling you to stay put while he ‘escorted’ Zach to his vehicle.

“Oh, yeah of course.” Zach said nervously as Ghost opened up the driver side door for him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for all this.” Ghost said, sticking out his hand for a handshake as Zach climbed into the car.

“Right.” He cleared his throat accepting the handshake which gave Ghost the opportunity to pull out his gun from his hoodie pocket, pistol whipping him with his temple as the target.

“I was really hoping this kid wouldn’t get in the way, he was the only decent one out of them all.” Ghost grumbled, throwing the comment over his shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy in front of him.

He grabbed another zip tie, pressing Zachary’s finger tips against the plastic before placing his foot on the gas pedal and pulling the tie to secure it in place.

Ghost reached around, turning the key in the ignition and leaning over Zach to put the car in neutral.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said sternly, watching you to make sure you were listening. “Good. Turn around, stay there please.”

“Thank you baby,” He called over his shoulder as he started to push the car, getting it rolling toward the lake. Once it was close enough he put it in park and shouted out to you again. “Cover your ears!”

Taking Zach’s hand he wrapped his fingers around the grip, positioning his pointer finger on the trigger and putting his other limp hand in the left hand cut out in the steering wheel. He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through the soft flesh on the underside of his chin and straight through his brain, exiting at the top of his skull, lodging in the dented metal roof of the car.

Ghost let the gun fall along with Zach’s hand before throwing the car in drive and pushing down on his knee to put pressure on the gas pedal. Quickly jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut. Stumbling back and falling on his ass as the car sped through the yard and straight into the lake, sinking slowly.

Ghost stood up, dusting himself off before punching the air in a little victory celebration before he had to return to ‘caregiver to shell shocked girlfriend’.

Ghost approached you slowly, a soft hand on your shoulder to alert you to his presence. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a tight hug, squeezing you as he rocked side to side.

“I know this has been a long, really not so great night.” He said softly, resting his chin on your head. “But I need you to tell me something okay, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest, sniffling while you prepared for whatever it was he had in store for you this time.

“Did you touch anything with your bare hands?” He asked, loosening his tight grip around you. “Think hard. I need to know so I can take care of it.”

Your mind raced, you’d touched a lot of things. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind that you might’ve left fingerprints. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if it had just been your original plan. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if you had just listened to Ghost and stayed put.

“Chalk and spray cans.” You said, your eyes wide as if trying to see the various items you’d left evidence behind on. “The truck. The window. That car, in the lake.”

“Did you touch anything inside the car?” He asked, tilting your head back to look at you.

“Not with my hands. I bumped the inside of the trunk with my arm.” You said, crossing your arms to hug yourself while he held you.

“Did you keep your hood up? Touch your hair or anything?” He asked, swatting at your hand when your lifted it to touch your hair.

“No I don’t think so.” You shook your head, hearing him sigh.

“Okay.” He took a breath, “here’s the plan:”

“You, sit your ass right here.” He said, pushing down on your shoulder gently to make you sit. “I’m gonna go get the cans, and wipe down the window. The truck… do you remember where you touched it?”

“The side facing the woods, then I climbed up to get that stuff from the tool box.” You said, holding up your still gloved hands. “But I had on gloves for the toolbox.”

“Perfect. Keep those on.”

He patted your head and went about his tasks, making the clean up quick as he jogged through the yard and picked up the cans he’d tossed in a pile. Taking an alcohol wipe to the window and then using more than a handful as he roughly scrubbed the side of the truck.

Thankfully, it seemed that daddy’s money kept Adam’s car well maintained so he didn’t need to worry about leaving one side of the truck shiny and the other dirty. This trip was probably the only time that truck had ever seen dirt. He used what was left of the chalk spray on that side of the truck just to even it out, throwing everything away in a grocery bag to shove in his backpack.

Everything was in place, everything was handled, everything was fine. It was all fine.

Except for you.

Diary Entry: September 4th early morning

Okay, so here I am, in a goddamn tree, sitting outside your cabin, watching you walk outside every so often to vomit. Your sister and Luke think you’ve got food poisoning or some shit like that.

You’re mad because I made you strip naked before I would let you climb back in your window. You’re mad because I had to bag up your clothes to get rid of. You’re paranoid because there hasn’t been a peep from across the lake.

Luke made you cry because he was woken up by ‘really loud pops’ and he’s ’almost for certain it was a gun, how did you not wake up?’.

I made you cry because I asked if you were okay.

You made yourself cry because you just had to take one last look as we walked away and you of course thought you saw a few bubbles float to the surface of the lake. ‘Oh my god, what if they’re still alive?’

Baby. They’re beyond dead.

Speaking of, can I just say that it was fucking hot as hell to see you standing there with my gun like that? Holy shit.

Then realizing there was a whole person you blew to pieces in front of you? Lord have mercy, Lucifer take my soul.

I wish I could say it to your face. It’s a compliment, but I don’t think you’d take it that way. You’re just so perfect. You’re beautiful even in moments like that, with those fearful eyes and that pretty pout. The little blush creeping up your cheeks and the squeak you made when I took the gun from you.

If you weren’t so distraught I would’ve ravaged you right then and there.

I forget sometimes that you’re just a girl. You’re a girl that I love and that I just wanted to have a good time with. I just wanted you to have a little taste of danger. I didn’t want you to murder someone on accident. I didn’t want to kill Zach.

But they’re both at the bottom of the lake and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m sorry that I seemed insensitive. I really didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand why you’re grieving a person you didn’t know. The guy you killed was a gross, horrible, disgusting waste of space. Zach was okay, he’s just fucking stupid and had to come out and get a look at you.

You understand right? I couldn’t just let him walk off after he recognized you.

Maybe you’ve learned your lesson. When I say something, I mean it. When I tell you to listen, it’s for a reason.

When the little voice in my head says ‘hey that’s probably not a good idea’ I think I’ll start listening. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Diary Entry: September 7th

I’m picking up the vibe that you’re alittle bit upset with me. Like actually me, Anakin. You texted me that you got home but I was expecting you to come over or ask me to come over… since you’ve been gone the whole weekend. But you didn’t.

Are you just that freaked out by the whole thing? I told you it’s not your fault. I don’t know what else to do. People die. Sometimes they just die alittle earlier than they’re meant to. That’s just the way of things.

I was there. Yet I still feel out of the loop.

Cause there’s only so much information I have you know? I have my side of the story. But you’re keeping yours locked up in the Fort Knox of your mind.

You can’t just ignore me because of one little mistake on your part. Yeah, it’s not your fault but also it kind of is. You should’ve listened, but if I get back on that thought train I’ll be riding it for the next few stops.

So instead let’s focus on how I’m going absolutely insane because you won’t even let Ghost inside your apartment. I’ve never been mad at you but I’m so close to being pissed. A door stop? Really? New window latch?

If I didn’t have cameras in your place I’d be worried you found some other guy to do the window latch installation. I was pleasantly surprised (also proud) to see you putting it in all by yourself. If only it wasn’t simultaneously infuriating.

I think I’m going to have to do alittle research to see how I can worm my way inside without actually causing any damage to the door or window. If you’d just leave the apartment for even a few minutes I’d be able to go in through the door. But no, of course I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I totally considered throwing a brick through the glass of your living room window but then it’d be a few days before the super would ever even get around to fixing it, you’d have a gaping hole that anyone could climb in through and I’d be sleep deprived because I’d be sitting out there 24/7.

The only upside to that would be getting to see you. Although I have a feeling you’d be even more upset if I actually did do that… so I won’t, even though it’s very tempting.

Is it completely horrible of me to be driven by ulterior motives as well? Tempting… I’m all worked up and it’s really difficult to settle for my hand after having felt the flower of Eden between your pretty thighs.

I need you. I need you in a bad way. So bad I very briefly let myself wonder if it would be cheating if I bought a fleshlight and taped your picture on it.

Logically, duh I know it’s not cheating but it feels like it.

Maybe I can invent Clone-a-Coochie. You know like the make it yourself, at home dildo? Great business idea if we’re being honest. A perfect replica of your perfect pussy? Bitch, I’d put that on display.

‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Oh this? Yeah, this is my girl’s pussy.’

Seriously, it’s basically the same concept of the Roman and Greeks always putting flaccid dicks on their statues. It’s art.

Art that has more than one purpose! I love shit with more than one use. It’s pretty, it can be fucked, it’s pretty. Look at that. Three whole things.

But even if I did invent it, I’d still have to get into your apartment to make it in the first place and then I wouldn’t even need it anymore because you’d be there.

I’m rambling. This is what happens when I’m nervous. You’ve made me nervous. If I didn’t hate taking pages from notebooks I’d rip this out because I’m a fucking idiot and wrote it in ink so now the inner thoughts that should’ve been kept to myself are in permanent physical form.

Notebook law is that you can’t tear pages from a composition notebook. If there’s one law I’m not gonna break, it’s that one. Cause that’s just disgusting, vile.

Anyway, the B train has been tossing around some thoughts while the A train plowed through the brain car that gets rid of my bad ideas.

B train says I should figure out how to get in your bedroom window. There’s no fire escape under it. You’re on the second floor and there’s no way I’m rappelling down the side of an eight story building.

My need for instant gratification said I could commandeer a fire truck. They have really tall ladders. But then I’d have to worry about hiding a fire truck and that would be practically impossible so honestly, it’s for the best that A train ran that one over.

So I think my best bet is to violate every single safety protocol on ladders and push the dumpster over, stick a ladder on top and close my eyes and hope I make it to your window.

So, if I see you, I’ve succeeded. If I haven’t. Maybe don’t look out your bedroom window.

Ps.

I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t. This would be just so much easier if you’d flap your fucking jaws like you love to do. Just open your mouth and speak.

Date: September 7th

Anakin has called, texted, emailed, knocked, unlocked your door and been sent straight back across the hallway.

Unable to look him in the eye after what you’ve done, you’ve repeatedly ignored and pushed him away. You tell yourself it’s because you’re suspicious of his behavior, because he was spotted by your sister’s husband at that store. That’s why you’re ignoring him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that you killed someone and watched your other (stalker) boyfriend kill another man and stage the scene as a hostage-murder-suicide.

Ghost left those boys in the closet, zip tied together. You’ve watched the news everyday on a continuous loop for the last three days and you’ve not seen a single hint of information regarding the crime. They’ve not been reported missing. They’ve not escaped to your knowledge.

What was reported on however, was that a group of young men affiliated with the Alpha Sigma Psi Fraternity from the upstate university are under suspension pending investigation into their ‘hazing practices and illicit activities’. No names have been released, just ages.

It seems that Ghost really did think of everything.

How? How does he know what to do? How did he perfectly situate a very messy crime scene to fit the narrative of frat hazing gone wrong? How did he find the proof and get it to the university? Is there actual proof?

By the time those boys are found everything will have been taken care of and seen as a closed case before it’s even opened:

A young boy, a recruit, was taken out to the lake for a weekend hazing ritual. The last of his ‘trials’ to join Alpha Sigma Phi. All was well, drinking, drugs, strip pong. A bit of good natured, easy to clean up ‘vandalism’ to get him loosened up before they go into his final initiation phase. Recruit finds out what horrible things his soon to be frat brothers have done and now want him to do, then he attempts to escape, kills in self defense, ties others up and plans to dump the body. Recruit digs around in the corpse to get the bullet to get rid of the evidence, realizes it’s too late for him, feels guilty and kills himself.

The only loose ends are the other guys in the closet. Why not kill them too? And if you’re going to go through all the trouble of taking out the bullet, then shoot yourself… what’s the point of taking it out?

Maybe it just shows the panicked thought pattern of a scared kid who messed up, fell in with the wrong crowd and couldn’t get himself out of it without violence being involved. Maybe it shows that a girl and her masked secret boyfriend tried to have a little fun and ended up committing double murder.

Ghost explained that Zach saw you, would be able to identity you if he went to the police, there was no choice. He had to kill him to protect you.

When you questioned him about his gun and if it could be traced to him he told you it was bought third hand, unregistered and given as a gift. Not to mention he’s never handled it with his bare hands and he filed off the serial numbers after he received it.

Because ‘you never know’. What does that mean? You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to taint your image of him further.

There hasn’t been a linear pattern of thought since that night, thoughts, ideas, monologues, even fully fleshed out daydreams have been overlapping and going straight through each other at an alarming rate. Silence is a distant memory, the constant chatter of your inner voice has become your new normal.

A voice, a real one, called out to you for the umpteenth time today. Pounding on your front door, you didn’t even bother to look through the peephole. You didn’t get up and tell him to fuck off. You even turned the sound off on your phone hours ago, when you checked it you had over sixty messages. Some from Anakin, some from Ghost, Luke and your sister. Even Vigo from the diner. Everyone was concerned about your mysterious absence.

You just had too much going on at once to deal with answering any messages or questions. Too much happening to explain why you’ve called in for the past two days. Brain too full to comprehend the email from your English professor, wondering why you’ve not turned in your online quiz.

How can you be expected to lead your normal life after killing a living being with your own hands?

September 8th, 8:43 pm

Ghost got into position, feet firmly on the ground with both hands flat on the side of the dumpster, thankful it was on wheels as he pushed the heavy container toward your bedroom window. It scraped along the wall, metal on brick making a horrendous racket that he was relieved only lasted a few seconds.

He didn’t need a 20 foot ladder of his own. So naturally he swiped one from a construction site, planning to return if before the sunrise. After he precariously secured and balanced the ladder against the wall, atop the dumpster, he made his way up to your bedroom window.

Luckily this window also had an incredibly old style of latch and you hadn’t replaced it. So, he was able to use his heavy duty magnet to wiggle the curved latch out of the ring that held the window shut. The only difference from your living room window was that this one was smaller, still plenty big enough for him to fit through, and a bit higher off the ground as well.

The awkward position of the ladder, paired with his teeny tiny fear of heights made it the slightest bit terrifying to enter the window feet first. Head first was the only logical solution. He was long enough to hit the floor with his hands and ‘walk’ the rest of himself into your room without harming himself. So he did exactly that.

Bending at the waist he shimmied until his legs were bent at the knee to help him balance, both hands on the ground as he pulled himself forward enough to get away from the wall so that he could drop his feet down one at a time. It was awkward and uncomfortable, however worth it and necessary in his mind.

Once he gained entry and the window was shut and locked, Ghost walked out of your bedroom to hear your shower running. He was tired of waiting. Tired of attempting to give you a bit of space, alittle leeway for your healing and health. He did the only logical thing, pull out a bent paper clip to jimmy pinhole lock of your bathroom door knob.

He cheered for himself internally when he heard the faint *click* signaling he’d succeeded in popping the simple mechanism of the button lock on your side of the door. Carefully and quietly he entered the bathroom, making himself at home on the sink counter to wait until you were finished.

He closed his eyes, listening to the water pelting your soft skin and the sound of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, the product bubbling up to cleanse the day away. The sweet scent was soothing, he’d missed it, now that he was able to smell you, feel your presence again… he was a thousand times calmer. His mind clearing enough to think rationally.

You were living and breathing. You were okay.

You were tangible again. He hadn’t gone a single day without you in such a long time that he felt like an addict experiencing withdrawal during your time away. He was finally getting that first hit that soothed the hurt, steadied the shakes and warmed the ice of his veins.

Spotting your robe and towel sitting nearby, he picked up the robe and held it to his chest to transfer some of his warmth to it. It was a simple gesture, one that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but you were his everything and he’d been deprived of you for too long. He considered that maybe he needed to start doing more of these micro feel-good acts to keep you satisfied with him.

It wasn���t as good as tossing it in the dryer, but the dryer was at the laundromat and he really didn’t want to have to climb up that ladder again. Holding it to his chest was the best he could do and he hoped it was enough. He hoped he was enough.

The water shut off, the following sound was your hands wringing out your hair, the stream of water hitting the shower floor. Pushing back the curtain you looked down at the bath mat as you stepped out, nearly slipping when you lifted your head and saw Ghost sitting quietly. He gave an awkward, tiny wave and crossed his feet at the ankles, clasping his hands in his lap around your robe.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice quiet and distant.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said while you toweled off, holding up your robe for you to slip on.

You almost refused it. He wasn’t meant to be here, he hadn’t told you he was coming and you took precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get inside your home. Apparently, no amount of security could keep him away from you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him the right to treat you to such a simple gesture. Not when he looked at you the way he did. You could see it in your minds eye, the puppy dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip. He was sulking and his posture screamed it. Sighing, you turned around to insert your arms one at a time. The fabric was warm, a plush cotton hug that you didn’t expect but were glad to have.

Before you could turn around Ghost used a soft touch on your shoulder to make you stand still while he searched the drawer on his left for your hairbrush. The wet strands were plastered to the back of your neck beneath your robe, his leather finger separating it to lay it over the fabric and smooth it out just a bit before starting out at the very ends, working his way up slowly.

He was quiet, it was rare that he go so long without speaking. Almost seeming like he was waiting for you to speak first, but no words would come. What was there to say?

Once he finished with your hair he hopped down from the sink countertop, guiding you to sit atop the toilet lid. He kept a hand on you the whole time he set up your hair dryer and sprayed your leave in conditioner, like he was worried you’d vanish if you weren’t beneath his fingers.

The continuous droning flow of air from the hairdryer was warm and soothing. Like a cozy white noise machine. You could’ve fallen asleep with the way he was brushing through your hair as he dried it, the bristles massaging your scalp with every pass. He was taking his time, an occasional pause to separate and section off the next bit of your hair, a quick swipe of his thumb against your neck, leaning down to simulate a kiss to the top of your head with his mask’s cheek.

He didn’t poke and prod you for answers like you expected. He was patient, seemingly content to be in your presence even without the use of conversation. It was surprising when you factored in all the incessant texts and voicemails he’d left you since you arrived back home.

Taking both your hands he escorted you over to the sink, gripping your hips to boost you up onto the counter top.

“Open.” He tapped your cheek, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, scoffing like he was offended when you tried to take it from him.

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, shaking his head at you before carefully cupping your chin and pulling your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb so he could brush your teeth for you.

“Ready?” He asked, rinsing off your toothbrush and passing off the mouthwash to you. Ghost watched as you swished and spit, helping you down from the sink and walking behind you with a hand on the back of your neck.

He picked out your pajamas and helped you into them, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. It was unsettling to see him so gentle and caring. This wasn’t his normal behavior. He had his sweet moments but characteristically he was moody, broody, grumpy and cynical.

“Do you think you can talk to me now sweet girl?” He asked, holding your face in his hands and swiping his thrumbs just beneath your eyes.

“You lied to me.” You said accusingly.

“No? What?” He asked, shaking his head like he was shocked you’d say that.

“You lied. You said you’d never hurt me, you’d never put me in danger.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be so violent. I didn’t know they were that bad of people, I would’ve never-“ His voice was strained, his hands shifting so that one was on your neck, rubbing the column of your throat.

“Not that.” You scowled, “I’m talking about the gun.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I told you I had one, I told you it was in the bag! I even told you to use it if you had to. Where’s the lie?” He asked, getting upset at your accusations.

“It was loaded for real? Like you for real were playing Russian Roulette with my life? You could’ve killed me Ghost!” You smacked his chest angrily, shoving him away when he held out his arm to comfort you.

“No! No it wasn’t loaded I swear.” He said in a panic, standing up and going over to your still-packed bags from your weekend trip. He dug around in the pockets until he pulled out the bullet he’d carved your initials into. You noticed the last initial had been carved over in the shape of a heart.

“See? It never even touched the inside I swear.” He said, handing it to you. He’d saved it for you, tucking it away for you to see when you finally unpacked. You almost felt bad that you’d practically forced him to ruin the gift of the keepsake. An odd keepsake, but still.

“Then… then how do you explain the bullet in there? I never saw you load it.” You asked, confusion coloring your words.

Ghost sighed, trying to take your hand but you pulled it away. He grumbled, forcibly pulling it over by the wrist, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I haven’t and will never knowingly put you in harms way. You are my everything, without you I am nothing.” Ghost leaned in, testing the waters to see if you’d calmed enough for him to put his arms around you.

“I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something I’d done.” You let him wrap you up into his warmth, his large hand cradling your head to his chest. “My purpose in life is to love you, keep you safe and happy. You becoming mortally wounded isn’t included in that list, not even in the fine print. Quite the opposite actually.”

“I swear on my life that it wasn’t ever loaded, you weren’t in any danger.” He whispered, “I loaded it before we went out, just in case. I like to be prepared and I’m so glad I was.” His other hand no stroking your hair. “It was fully loaded, you don’t remember seeing me load in another bullet for Zach did you?”

“No.” You winced at the memory, the sound of the car reving and splashing into the lake replaying in your mind.

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hands fidgeting. “My little doe, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You should’ve said something instead of letting it fester up like this.”

“Ghost, this has been… I don’t know. It’s been overwhelming okay? I can’t think.” Rubbing your face and running a hand through your hair. “I ki- I hurt someone.” You choked out.

“You did so well.” He said softly “I’m very proud of you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t out there with you so you didn’t have to face it alone. I know it was scary.”

“Scary?” You scowled, “it was terrifying!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I- I was worried! You said you’d be quick and it felt like it was taking too long… the yellin’ and noise.” Your voice was shaking and you didn’t even notice it, still speaking passionately. “I was afraid you were hurt! I’m sorry I didn’t stay put like you wanted but I couldn’t just sit there and not know if it was you that I was hearing!”

”There was a whole group of them and your went in there all by yourself like an idiot!” You yelled at him in a way you hadn’t done before. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration, it was fear.

The concept of you being worried for him was foreign to him, he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to have you feel so strongly for him as Ghost. He knew it was definitely not the right time to push you down and let your sweet pussy milk his cock dry. But damn it all, if he wasn’t at least able to kiss you right now he may spontaneously combust.

“You were worried about me?” He asked so quietly his words dropped in and out of the vocoder. Ghost’s hands coming up to your neck, his thumbs under your chin to tilt your head up.

”God, you’re so stupid.” It came out much less angry than intended, more of whisper that trailed off into nothing more than a shallow breath.

There he was again, pouring out emotion without ever showing you his face. His eyes on you were comforting, like an embrace from the first sunny day in spring. The balance between you had always been a fragile thing, but it seemed that just like those sunny spring days encourage growth, something had begun to sprout roots.

There’s always been something so fascinating about flowers, one day they’re nothing more that a seedling, then in a blink of an eye they’ve bloomed and you missed it. The shock of waking up to discover the most beautiful rose carved from nature’s velvet had finally adorned the thorny landscape it had to endure on its path to life.

You’d failed to see something budding up and unfurling, now the bloom was staring into your soul, asking to be picked.

”Hey, I was jus-“ Ghost started, feeling a bit miffed by your words an the quick, almost eerie change in atmosphere.

”I was afraid.” A statement that could fit many situations you’d found yourself in with him, but it was being put to use in a different context now. “I was worried you’d be hurt so bad I couldn’t fix it.”

”Whoa.” Ghost shifted, bringing you closer, “Don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Just bruised up a little.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, the cold, hard plastic used to be somewhat of an uncomfortable feeling on your skin, though now it was one you realized you’d miss if it were taken from you.

“You should see the other guy.” The grin beneath his mask was so wide it could be felt in the way he tilted his head against your neck.

For the first time in days, you laughed. Tiny fairy bells making music that Ghost felt privileged to hear again, he felt honored to be the one to bring you the first bit of happiness, reprieve, after such a horrifying experience for you.

You pulled back, smiling and eyes shining with tears that you’d have no need to shed. Ghost watched, seeing the wheels turning behind your pretty eyes.

“Ghost, I lo-“ Just as you parted your lips to speak, sweet words on the tip of your tongue, the moment was shattered by flashing red on your bedroom TV screen. “Oh my god, they found it.”

Formerly blush pink cheeks quickly drained of color as the news camera panned over a serene lake, the still waters now rippling with movement as the image zoomed in on a car being towed from the depths, the reveal showed something hanging from the drivers side door was followed by a startled yelp of shock from the in-field reporter on the scene. The video paused, the image blurred as the in-office news anchors scrambled to collect themselves. The male cohost held a finger up to his ear, receiving information live from the scene.

”Apologies to our viewers, it seems that Rebecca, along with other press on site have been asked to return behind press lines. Investigators have a sensitive development in the case and are requesting all live newsfeed footage to be halted effective immediately.” The man nervously looked over to his female counterpart, sharing a nod she announced that they’d update as soon as officials allowed it, directing the camera to join the weatherman for the latest forecast.

”Alright, no. You’re not watching this.” GHost stood up, snatching the remote from the bed beside you and shutting the tv off. Going so far as to pop out the batteries and put them in his pocket.

”Ghost, this is what I’ve been waiting to see, you can’t just-“

”Oh yes i can.” He growled, holding up a hand to stop you. “I’ll monitor the news. Give me your phone.” He stuck his hand out in a ‘give it here’ motion as you reluctantly passed it over to him.

”What are you gonna do? Hold my phone hostage?”

“No, I’m going to seize your internet capabilities.” He snorted, pocketing your phone, gingerly pushing your head back and away like an annoyed father who’s had enough of his kid tugging on his shirt sleeve.

”What? What if i need-“

”To google when the Byzantine Empire collapsed?” He crossed his arms and chuckled when you gasped. “I’ve been paying extra close attention to your search history. I’m so glad you filled your time away from me with educational Roman lore rather than researching the est way to die.”

You couldn’t refute his statement, it’s true. You weren’t depressed so much as you were just bored during your self imposed isolation. “I think it’s completely normal to want a few quiet days after the weekend i had.” You huffed.

”Yes, it would be different if your weekend had been a drunken rager,” He said, swatting your hand away from his waist when you decievingly attempted to wrap your arm around him as a front to steal your phone back. “It’s highly concerning and i think i had a right to be worried considering your weekend involved double homocide.”

”I guess that’s fair.” You conceded, knowing you probably had done a real number on him. Everyone else was worried and they had no idea about the reasoning behind your temporary hermit-hood.

“If you desperately need to know anything else regarding Ancient Rome during your no internet time, call me.” He said, crossing his arms.

”Anakin has a phone and a laptop. I bet he’d let me use those.” You countered, raising an eyebrow to see if he’d budge.

”Oh I’m sure he would.” Ghost nodded, leaning back on your dresser with his arms still crossed. “But you aren’t going to ask him are you?”

”So what if i do?” Your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. You didn’t like the tone he was taking with you, it was so accusatory.

”Well I wouldn’t do anything to stop you if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Go ask him if you’d like.” He gestured to the bedroom door flippantly, challenging you.

”No.” You glared, frustrated that he was winning a game you weren’t prepared to play.

“Why not?” He asked, is hand on his masks chin as if he were stroking a beard in thought. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you ignoring the poor boy since you got back would it?”

”N-no.” You snapped back at him.”Even if it was, it’s not y-“

“Tell me your love life is not my buisness one more time.” He grabbed you by the upper arm, turning you to face the door. “And I’ll march my happy as over there and introduce myself.”

”You would’ve done that already if you really wanted to.” You wriggled free from his grip, rubbing your arm.

”Let’s go then.” He said, pushing you toward your bedroom door and opening it with a dramatic flourish just to pick at you a little more.

“Anakin’s not even home, he’s at work.” You lied, at least you thought you were lying.

”You’re right.” Ghost nodded, “My bad, I’ll wait til our schedule lines up.”

”Think he can pencil in… lunch on Wednesday?” He continued, pretending to seriously look at the desk top calendar on your bedroom desk. He missed the way your lips down turned in a frown as he teased you.

”What do you mean I’m right?” You asked, turning him by his shoulder to face you once more.

”Huh?” He he questioned, not having heard your question because he was distracted by the Rubix cube he’d swiped off your desk.

”Stop that, pay attention.” You scowled, taking it from him and rolling you eyes when he clearly seemed annoyed. “You’re worse than a child.”

”No, I’m actually pretty good at solving them, here let me-“

”Oh my god can you please just back track for a second?” You huffed, watching him reach for it again, this time your facial expression stopped him before he got half way.

”Sorry.” He mumbled, pulling out your desk chair to sit in, manspreading and leaning back. “What’s so important?”

”What’d you mean I’m right?” You asked, gesturing to the door. “About Anakin not being home.”

”Well, he’s not home. You said so yourself.” He shrugged, reaching back out for the rubix cube. You left his hand empty, crossing your arms and walking away for a moment.

”Do you know where he is?” You asked, not turning around.

”Um no.” He laughed, standing up and appearaing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Why? You afraid he’s gonna come barging in or something? We could give ‘em a little show.”

”Stop it. I’m serious.” You snapped at him and it took him back for a moment. He slowly released you, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Sorry doll, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said in a hurt tone, wondering what exactly he’d said that had went too far. He’s said much worse things about himself to you and he’d never gotten a reaction like that.

”You… you didn’t.” You sighed, turning around and glancing up at him for a moment before grumbling frustratedly. “I’ve just been thinking too much. I- I don’t know I’m just worried. I haven’t seen him, I don’t know if he’s home or… and I’ve been in my head… it’s been so much and-“

“Sweetheart.” His voice was low and warm as he addressed you, like a soothing balm.

“You know where I am.” He said softly, the weight of his words settled in your chest. You couldn’t put your finger on it, a strange tug pulled at your heart, telling you there was more to be said between those words.

Ghost sighed, returning to his spot behind you, tentatively reaching for you, giving you time to push him away again if you wanted. When you showed no signs of objection he pressed his half-hard cock against your ass, making you lean forward slightly to give himself better access to push up against your clothed cunt. A low grunt escaping him as he felt the warmth between your thighs.

“Feel that?” He asked, breathing raggedly, his hands coming to rest on your stomach before slipping one up under your shirt to settle in the valley of your breasts. “It’s me baby.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His voice soft and sweet, an odd comparison to the obvious upset in his voice just moments before.

“I can fuck it all better.” His gloved hand leaving your stomach in favor of honing in on the bundle of nerves hidden in your panties.

How could he expect anything other than enthusiastic consent when he spoke to you in that tone? The textured leather of his middle finger circling your clit in a feather light touch. His cock twitching, the rumble of the groan trapped in his chest resonated through you as he held you close. This wasn’t the normal experience with Ghost, this didn’t feel like a thrill or the promise of something new.

This felt meaningful and it scared you.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, too afraid to speak your thoughts and feelings into existence. He let out a sigh of relief that you agreed, though internally he was preparing himself to hold back. He’d been so pent up, so needy and now he was here and you were vulnerable in a different way than ever before… he couldn’t in good conscience fuck you like a sex doll. Not even if he really, really wanted to. (He did.)

“Sit, get comfy.” He promoted you, tapping your ass with two fingers to prod you along so that he could turn off the lights and close your curtains. “Uh, I got rid of your pink silk thingy…” he said apologetically, hating that he had to use the rough, black cotton bandana on you again.

You didn’t answer, it was too difficult to separate your inner voice from your flow of spoken dialogue, having the two mixing right now would be disastrous. You just nodded, keeping your lip tucked away behind your teeth.

Ghost gingerly tied on the blindfold so he could remove his gloves and touch you with his bare hands, warm palms and rough fingertips dancing across your flesh as he removed the pajamas he put on you earlier. He was taking his sweet time to put you at ease, but it only served to make you feel… anxiety.

“Can’t see nothing, right doll?” He asked, smoothing his palm over your thigh, rubbing the blunt point of the mask’s nose through your folds, making you jump at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, chewing your cheeks while a wave of nerves washed across your abdomen, feeling him lift up slightly to removed his mask.

Soft lips met yours after feeling his bare chest move up your body, settling his muscular body over yours. His pierced tongue sliding across your lips, clacking your teeth on its descent into your mouth to caress and lick the sweetness inside. His boxers barely containing the warm length pressed firmly against your wet core.

Rough, careful hands brushed over your tender flesh in the most sensual manner possible. It was nearly unbearable, the tingling heat that formed in the pit of your stomach from just the simple act. Ghost rutting his hips against you to give you the friction you so badly desired, his cock twitching when you moaned against his lips.

He hummed lowly, nodding in understanding as he kissed and nipped his way between your thighs to nestle his tongue into your sopping entrance, licking and slurping up the slick mess gathered there. The bridge of his nose bumping against your clit, the pressure deliciously fleeting. Those strong hands of his massaging and kneading your breasts, moving down your sides to your hips, one staying there to hold you in place while the other slowly twisted two fingers into your cunt, pumping them deep before withdrawing almost completely, just to do it all over again.

“Ghost?” You panted, mewling pitifully. He couldn’t answer verbally, not when you were so close, he didn’t want to risk losing his rhythm, he didn’t want to risk you identifying his voice without the mask. So instead he reached up his unoccupied hand to cup your cheek and brush his fingers over your lips.

“S’good.” The soft, slurred praise dripping with something more.

He smiled, wide and smug as he wrapped his lips around your clit and flicked his tongue rapidly, coaxing those warm and fuzzy tendrils to wrap around you just a little tighter before snapping and bringing you the rush of ecstasy he knew you needed. It took an unreasonable amount of self control for him not to poke fun at you for cumming so quickly, having to stifle his snicker in the fat of your thigh.

After you’d released him from the iron grip of your legs, he lifted up, not bothering to wipe his face before he put his mask back on. Forcing your legs back apart despite the quiver in them, he tugged down his boxers and nudged the tip against your clit, sliding it through your folds until he notched it in the dip of your cunt.

“Don’t whine darlin’.” He chuckled, hearing you squeak from the sensitivity as he pushed inside slowly. “I know it’s been a couple days since you’ve had a proper fuckin’. I’ll take care of you.”

With a shaky inhale he plunged into your depths, bottoming out just to circle his hips, making sure you felt him in every corner of your tight cunt. He leaned down, resting his mask’s forehead on your collarbone, moaning loudly at the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around his throbbing length.

Ghost had never fucked you like this before. He’d never been gentle, yet here he was, treating you with the utmost care and only the most tender touches. His calloused thumb finding its way between your bodies to circle and roll your clit just enough to have you bucking up against him.

“Why’re you bein’ so sweet t’me?” You breathed out, eyebrows pinched together and upturned.

“I wanna give you what you need.” He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask into the side of your neck, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper, to angle his cock perfectly.

“Yeah?” You whimpered, arching your back, your breasts pushing up against him.

“Course I do, my little doe.” He cooed, sliding an arm under you to press you even closer to him. “Always.”

He had you so needy, so willing. Wet and panting, a mess of sweet sweat and slick. There wasn’t a thought in your brain other than him. His hands, his cock, his voice, his lips. Ghost was drawing inhuman noises from your kiss bitten lips, each and every breath bringing a new form of praise to his ears.

Ghost had you so fucked out, so blissful and beautifully undone that it crept up your throat and clawed its way out. You’d thought it, over and over and over again, the lines between your inner and outer voice were crossed and was something that could never be taken back.

“Ghost… love you.” Your soft lilt reaching his ears, his movements halting in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” He asked, his voice cracking under the weight of your confession.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ You started, grabbing his wrist to stop his shaking hand from removing your blindfold. “N-no don’t.”

“But-“ He stuttered, unsure how to handle the fiery mix of emotions that rammed through his chest. “I want you to… don’t you want to see?”

“I want to.” You admitted softly, though you shook your head. “But I don’t think I can.” You whispered, feeling the hurt and confusion that filled him up and spilled over.

“I… I don’t-“ He seemed at a loss for words, stuttering over the syllables until it was a jumble.

You heard rustling, felt his weight lifting from the bed and the creak of leather as he put his gloves back on. His socked feet shuffled across the floor so he could retrieve his boots and stomp his feet back inside, not bothering to lace them or even tuck the laces inside. He tossed your clothes at you, the fabric landing on your stomach with a dull *thwack*. You heard something clatter against your nightstand and before you even had time to form a coherent thought, he had slammed your bedroom door shut. Leaving you naked, alone and in the unforgiving darkness behind your blindfold.

September 8th, 9:54 pm

Anakin was overly tired and much too distracted to pay attention to what was going on around him. He wasn’t expecting anything other than the droning of his bedroom fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards in the apartment above his.

Perhaps it was complacency, maybe it was his overconfidence, or it may have been that he was simply distraught; he failed to do his after Ghost routine. Yes the mask was under his dresser. Sure, the backpack and his boots were hiding in the top of his closet just beneath the crocheted monstrosity his mother called a blanket. But his hoodie and jeans were crumpled in the floor, inside out, but it didn’t really matter, after all they were black like rest of his wardrobe.

Even worse? He’d left on his socks. His long black socks with lime green toes and heels.

“What the fuck do you want man? I’m busy.” A male voice grumbled.

“Can you be un-busy? I’m out.”

Anakin heard a sigh, then the low din of the bar in the background as his friend conferred with someone else.

‘April? Can you be me for like 30 minutes?’ Trevor asked. ‘C’mon, it’s Anakin… No, you can’t take it to him. I don’t care! You owe me for yesterday and you know it. You’re sure? Thank you babe, I’ll be back quick I promise.’

“I can be un-busy with time constraints.” Trevor said with a slight laugh. “What are you wanting? I’m walking to my car right now.���

“A quarter.” Anakin’s voice was scratchy, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “What… what else have you got these days, huh Trev?”

“Anakin you better not be telling people that I-“

“No, you idiot I’m asking for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything other than smoke?” Trevor asked, the slightest hint of concern seeping past the curiousness in his tone. Anakin no longer heard the constant background noise of the bar, instead it was the crunch of gravel and the loud slam of a car door.

“I don’t!” Anakin snapped, quickly correcting his harshness. “I- I don’t. I was just curious that’s all.”

“Whatever.” Trevor snorted, starting up his car. “Well I’ll just bring my whole bag in case you’re more than ‘curious’.”

“Alright, yeah that’s… okay.” Anakin nodded to himself and cracked his knuckles, holding his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “When you get here I’m on the right side of the building, I’ll be out on the fire escape.”

Anakin opened up the large window and left it open, the cool air flowing in and clearing his apartment of the nervous energy he’d let build up. He paced the floor, talking to himself under his breath while running both hands through his hair. It was a short drive from the bar to the apartment building, Trevor dusted off his hands and climbed the drop-down ladder until he reached the landing, walking up the stairs to where Anakin sat.

“Damn. You look like shit.” Trevor scoffed, holding out his hand to clasp his with Anakin’s, pulling him up to his feet.

“I know.” Anakin grumbled, climbing in his window and standing with his hands on his hips.

“Huh,” Trevor looked around the living space, a tiny smirk in the corner of his lips. “Didn’t take you for a girly girl.” He snorted, picking up a large Kuromi Squishmallow.

“Fuck off.” Anakin snatched it back and held it in his crossed arms against his chest. “It’s a pillow.”

“Oh, sure.“ Trevor snorted, a big grin on his face while he unzipped and searched through his bag to pull out the correct ziploc bag with the quarter of weed Anakin asked for. “S’okay. I won’t tell.”

”I believe i deserve a discount for possible emotional scarring in the event I come to work tomorrow and your little girlfriend starts laughing at me.” Anakin snatched the baggie from him and laughed.

”I’ll let you have it for free if you let me take your picture with it.” Trevor grinned, pulling out his phone.

”Throw in some K and we’ll call it a deal.” Anakin said with a smirk.

”Done!” Trevor snapped the picture and cackled to himself, tossing his phone in is bag and doling out two pills, dropping them in the ziploc bag of weed Anakin opened.

”Get out before I kick you out.” Anakin snorted, shoving Trevor toward the window, watching him leave before he turned around and hurried to his bedroom. Grabbing his large glass bong from his dresser along with his cigarettes and a lighter, he returned to the fire escape to grind and pack a full bowl of pot. Packing it in with the butt of his lighter before lighting it and taking a long rip. Holding his breath for a moment, letting out a cloud of smoke as he leaned back on the rusted metal steps.

Rolling one of the pills between his forefinger and thumb. Anakin stopped for a moment crossing his feet at the ankles and looking up to the nighttime sky, light pollution in the city was alm,ost always too great to make out many of the dimmer stars. Though after the last few days it seemed luck had finally turned around, even if it was only just the clear sky, it was better than nothing. Hit after hit, Anakin let himnself melt into the warm fuzzy feeling while searching for constellations.

——————————————————————————

You tried to relax, to think rationally. It would do no good for anyone if you went looking for trouble. Life was already complicated enough, it was bubbling up day after day and you didn’t want to be the one who let it boil over. Your little devil was back and it’s whispers were louder than before. Rightfully, you felt you deserved the truth. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, you’d already ruined everything by not keeping your mouth shut.

Ghost did it all the time.

You moved quickly before your confidence ran out, finding him on the fire escape after using the key he’d entrusted you with long ago when you’d given him a key to your apartment. You were startled to see him, Ghost had said he was out and you hadn’t planned on him being home. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, a bit of snooping to put your mind at ease. The space reeked of weed even though he’d closed the window, or at least partially closed it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy relighting the bowl on taking another long rip. It was almost unfair how easily he distracted you. He always looked so pretty in everything he did. The way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he tilted his head back to blow out the smoke, his eyebrows pinching together with the deep inhale from the bong, his hands flexing as he struck the lighter and brought it to life.

He seemed… preoccupied enough. Sneaking around couldn’t be that difficult, could it? He’d never know if you did it quickly enough, you were already here, you may as well try it.

Staying closer to the wall you went to his kitchenette, you’d learned one of the best ways to tell if a man has been cheating is to check the fridge, trash and sink. If there’d been another woman in here, you’d most likely find evidence there and not have to venture any farther. Surprisingly, it seemed Anakin’s normally well kept space was seeing less attention than usual. You’d never seen more than a cup or two in his sink at once, now one whole side of the sink was stacked with dishes. You picked up the glasses, looking at the rims for any sign of lipgloss or lipstick, but found none.

You kept glancing over at the window, making sure Anakin wasn’t gathering his stuff to come back inside. There were no ‘girly’ drinks in his fridge, other than the ones you’d left there and none of them were missing. The wine bottle you’d gotten a week ago was still there, unopened. The trash showed no signs of anything suspicious, not even the dust from the vacuum held a clue to any wrongdoings.

It wasn’t enough. You knew in your gut that there was something going on, regardless of another woman being involved or not. The thought of Anakin cheating had given you plenty of time to reflect on things you would’ve otherwise not given a second glance to.

Another look toward the window proved that Anakin was still busy, engrossed in his own world. Swallowing your guilt with a thick gulp, you made a quick dash across the line of sight from the window. Once you safely reached the samll hallway, you stood between the two doors on either side of you. The courage you’d gathered up to sneak in was wearing out and fast, the bathroom would be the quickest, the bedroom would possibly hold more than you could bare to digest at the moment.

Taking a deep breath you opened the bathroom door and closed the door, standing in the dark for a moment before flipping on the light. After your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you got to work, nothing in the trash. No changes in the shower products, the cabinet hidden behind the mirror had been rerarranged but it seemed like it was only done to clean the shelves. The cabinet below the sink held it’s usual cleaning products, extra shower stuff and towels. Nothing seemed out of place and you were beginning to feel even more guilty than you were origionally. Closing the cabinets you moved on the two drawers along the side closest to the door. The top one opened up just fine, nothing but jewlery for his piercings and his cologne, along with other random bits and bobs.

Pulling out the bottom drawer you found that it stopped halfway, getting jammed by something and preventing you from pulling it all the way out. You wiggled it and shuffled through the items inside the drawer, feeling around to see if you could dislodge whatever it was that prevented it from being opened. You reached the back of the drawer, nothing inside seemed to be the cause, so you decided to reach a bit farther and feel along the back of the drawer and the walls. Thinking that maybe something had fallen from the top drawer and gotten jammed in the tracks for the bottom drawer.

Then, there was a noise. The window. Quietly shutting the drawer you listened, hearing Anakin muttering to himself and his footsteps stopping, the clunk of his bong hitting the coffee table and the sound of him plopping down on the couch. You had no choice but to pretend like you meant to be here, you were here to see him.

While you were busy preparing your ‘i missed you, I’m sorry’ speech, Anakin turned on his tv and Xbox, waiting for it to boot up and load Fallout. He wasn’t ready for bed, he wasn’t willing to be completely alone with his thoughts, so a distraction was in order. He jumped up from the couch and slunk into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and returning to the couch. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he used the beer bottle to crush up one of his pills, sliding his wallet over to him he pulled out his debit card and chopped it finely, lining it up on the edge of the table. He cracked open the beer bottle and took a swig, holding it in his mouth while leaning down to snort half the line. Swallowing the beer to help with the bitterness of the powdered pill, getting ready to start the process over again.

You slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out into the short hallway to see Anakin kneeled beside the couch, his head tilted back sniffing and wiping his nose like it itched. He swallowed, letting out a sigh and a hiccuped laugh, bring the bottle to his lips for another drink.

”Anakin?” You gasped. His head snapped over to the side, bloodshot eyes wide and confused as he stared at you, choking on his beer, coughing and spitting it out accidentally. He stood up slowly, keeping his balance by laying a hand on the couch’s armrest.

“H-hey sweetheart.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, eyes darting around from the embrassment of being caught. Caught doing something you didn’t ever expect to see. “I missed you baby, ‘mere.” His words slightly slurred and his actions not quite right as he beckoned you over.

”I-i had a whole apology speech planned out… i didn’t-“ You stuttered, looking him up and down, “You- are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.” He casually waved your concerns away as if it were silly of you to ask such a thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t reall thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? You’re here now and you’re all i need.”

”No, you can’t just brush this off Anakin.” You said, walking over to him and looking down on the coffee table and what was left of the white powdery substance. “What is that?”

”Baby,” Anakin sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry okay? I just needed something to… to take my mind off stuff.”

”What stuff?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation at his vagueness. “Us stuff?”

”Well, yeah.” He nodded, his jaw set in a hard line while he shifted on his feet. “Where’ve you been? You disappeared on me.” He whispered, reaching out to take your hands in his, though you swiftly shut down his attempt.

”Where have you been?” You turned the attention back where it belonged, on him.

”Home.” He said, gesturing to his living space. “Called Trevor.” He motioned to the coffee table and the various paraphernalia. He tried reaching out for you again and was rejected once more.

”What did i do?” He asked, his face scrunched up in pain from your reluctance to touch him.

”I don’t know. You tell me.” You crossed your arms and stared him down.

”Please, baby just talk to me.” He whined, gently grabbing your shoulders and making you sit down. “You left for your trip and you were fine, you come home and you treat me like I’ve got the plague.”

“What is that stuff?” You pointed to the table angrily.

”Ketamine. Your turn, tell me what’s going on.”

”oh my god, no you can’t just expect me to let that go so easily Anakin!” You huffed spotting the other pill in the ziploc bag. “More? Really?”

”Don’t judge me, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this kinda thing.” He said angrily, pulling it from your hands and fishing out the pill. “Look, I’ll get rid of it.”

He grumbled, standing up and dragging you by the arm along with him toward the bathroom where he held the pill in front of your face, dramatically lowering it down over the toilet and dropping it in.

“There, flush it.” He crossed his arms, nodding toward the plunger. You rolled your eyes and pushed down on it, watching the little white pill disappear. “See? No big deal, it’s not like I’m some kind of pill head.”

“Now. Your turn.” Anakin walked on jelly legs back into the living room, sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, manspreading in his boxers and tshirt.

“I’m… I don’t know I guess I’m mad at you.” ‘I’m mad at myself.’ You sighed, kicking off your shoes and sitting beside him.

“Me? What did I do?” He made a face, pulling up his bottom lip and licking one of the hoops in his snake bites.

“Did you go to a sex shop?” You asked flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“While you were gone? No.” He snorted, wincing when you smacked his shoulder. “Ow! Fuck.” He groaned, running his hand over it to roughly massage it.

“Crybaby.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Jesus someone shit in your cheerios didn’t they?” He grumbled, rolling his arm in a wide circle with his arm bent at the elbow.

“I meant like in the time we’ve been together. Have you been to a sex shop? Lauren’s husband swears he saw you at one.” You accused, watching him closely for any telling body language.

“Yeah I did.” He nodded, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Am I not allowed to buy stuff for our sweet love makin’?”

“What’d you buy? I haven’t seen anything new.” You asked, ignoring his ill-placed tease.

“Some lube, jewelry for my dick piercing. S’got a little vibrate-y thingy.” He gestured to his crotch.

“That’s it?” You asked, still uncertain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was a surprise! Gods what’s your deal baby?” He asked, getting up, steadying himself with a hand on your head before he walked off to his bedroom. You tracked his movements without following. Glancing down at the floor you did a double take.

“See look? Here.” He came back, holding up the two items and shaking them. The jewelry hadn’t even been taken out of the package yet.

“Did you get new socks?” You asked, looking from his feet to his face and back again.

“What are you the fucking FBI now?” He scoffed, obviously getting agitated at your insistence on questioning him. “Yeah they’re new. Would you like to see my receipt officer?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” You scowled.

“You don’t like my- oh, you know what?” Anakin stomped back over to you and grabbed you roughly by the jaw. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated by a bitch half my size.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You gasped, pushing his hand away. He’d never acted like that with you before, it was startling, confusing… could one pill have really made that big of a personality change so quickly?

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bit of a dick don’t you think?” He asked, staring you down as he pointed at your chest, poking you aggressively as he toward over where you sat on the couch. “You planned a trip without me, didn’t tell me until you were getting ready to leave. You’re gone all weekend, you’ve been back a few days and haven’t even spoken to me and then you show up to my place and start questioning me like I’ve done something wrong!”

“What about you huh?” Anakin yelled, getting upset in a way you’d never seen him do before. “I think I should be the one asking you questions!”

“Ani! Ani calm down it’s okay!” Frantically you tried to calm him down, standing up and putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry Anakin I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately and that’s no fault of yours.”

“Damn right it’s not.” He muttered. Walking the room in a quick back and forth line.

He breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he dropped both hands down to his sides and sat down on the couch. Leaning over with his head between his knees as if he felt nauseous.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin sighed, clearing his throat, clasping his hands together behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. “I’m really sorry princess. That was uncalled for.”

“Anakin, let’s just take a second okay?” You said quietly, making your way to the fridge to grab yourself a water. By the time you unscrewed the cap, Anakin had already chugged the rest of his beer.

“Can we… how about we just forget it? Let’s just pretend I got home today.” You suggested, a hopeful look on your face, your plan having been so horribly thrown askew that you knew there was no salvaging it.

“We can start over.” You suggested quietly. es, you were terribly upset with him but it was **so hard to stay that way. Especially when he had every right to be angry right back at you. “I’m sorry too. Please? Let me make it right…”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It should be me.” Anakin whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

“You gotta know that I love you princess. I love you so, so, so much.” He led you back to the couch, holding your hand and pulling you into his lap. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, never. I know that you’re disappointed in me…”

He looked up at you with glacier blue eyes, ones that had started to melt. Salty tears filling up to the brim and ready to flow over in a hot trail down his cheeks. He was holding his breath like he was scared to breathe, like he was afraid that if he did, he’d be pushed over the edge.

“I made a really bad choice and I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice small and fragile. “It was wrong of me. I know that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You frowned, carding your fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, it was just this once right? Only the one pill?”

“That’s not…” Anakin sniffled, hiccuping before he tilted his head back on the couch cushions,covering his face with his hands. He let out a few half-sobs, stopping himself by forcing them down and holding his breath. “I don’t, I didn’t mean to do it okay?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He spoke through short, shallow inhales, his head jerking with each labored breath. “It’s bad. I’m bad.”

“Anakin no, no you’re not bad! Why would you say that?” You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But it- I never should’ve… I shouldn’t have done it.” Anakin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He started to bounce the knee you weren’t sitting on, pressing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes and using his other fist to rhythmically pound on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I never will. You’re too good. You’re so good.”

His voice was squeaky, chopped up and uneven. The large, strong hands you’d come to love settled on your hips and waist, squeezing slowly, rubbing up and down as if he were trying to comfort you.

“C’mere.” He hiccuped, keeping his eyes closed as he wiped his cheek on his shoulder, pulling you flush to his chest. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better. I swear.” He whispered, his words hot and breathy against your skin as he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Anakin I’m not… I’m not leaving you over something so, well I don’t want to call it insignificant. Because it’s not, it’s serious.” You said calmly, your own tears threatening to break through. It was so difficult to see him so upset, it was clear he felt immense guilt for this. “But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’ll be just fine.”

“You won’t go?” He sniffled, squeezing you tighter. “You promise?”

“Course I promise.” You nodded, the guilt of your previous thoughts, your original plan for coming here, all the things you’ve done… it all came rushing to the forefront.

“Why don’t you take a shower, it’ll help you feel better.” You suggested, really only wanting a few minutes of peace to sulk alone. “Just shout if you need help.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my ass.” He snorted, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking in a stuttered breath.

“I don’t know Ani, you’re really wobbly.” You said sympathetically.

“You can shower with me as much as you want, but you will not be showering me.” He glared at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Sponge baths are the only exception.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was always able to lift the weight of heavy emotion off of any situation, with just a few words.

Anakin just smiled and ruffled up your hair before trudging off to the bathroom. You’d never seen him switch up emotions that quickly and so fiercely. His guilt ridden sadness was so intense you feared he may have went into a full fledged panic attack if you hadn’t have been able to de-escalate it fast enough. Then, not too long before that was his flip of the switch anger and aggression.

The moment the bathroom door shut you cleaned up the coffee table, wiping it down to make sure none of the pill powder was left behind. You moved to put away his bong but thought… maybe you deserved a hit after all the trouble you’ve had. So you had one, only one. Someone here needed to be sober and Anakin was obviously not the man for the job.

————————————————————————

“So what do you do there? When that happens?” You asked, pointing to the tv screen while Anakin was playing Fallout 76.

“What? Get rad poisoning?” He asked, sitting comfortably with his feet propped up while you laid your head in his lap. “I can find a doctor, eat some fungus.” He snorted. “But I’d have to find them first so I just use RadAway. This little thingy right there.”

He pointed, showing you what he was talking about, explaining it and the different functions of the Pip-Boy his character uses to track radiation, inventory and the like.

“Okay but you’re wearing a radiation suit right?” You asked confusedly. “So why do you still get poisoned?”

“Baby, it’s just like real life. The suits only withstand so much, plus mines already damaged so it’s not as effective.” He chuckled, looking down at you to play with your hair for a moment while he waited for the next room to load after picking a lock.

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.” You giggled at yourself, enjoying the way he gave you attention even when he was preoccupied.

“So what’s the quest?” You asked, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Uh gotta figure out what happened to this lady and her Order.” He said nonchalantly, “there’s supposed to be some kind of jewelry along the way some where. The Eye of Ra I think?”

“What’s that do?” You asked.

“That’s a great question. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.” Anakin hummed under his breath, practically trashing the room he was in while searching around.

“Y’know, this game is kinda cute.” You grinned, obviously trying to tease him.

“It’s not cute. It’s apocalyptic, how is that cute?” He laughed, looking down at you and tugging your hair playfully.

“It’s all the retro stuff! It’s cute.” You shrugged, pointing to a few different random items on the screen. “I like the music too.”

“I know you do.” He laughed, glancing down again before refocusing on his tasks.

You stayed quiet for a while, just listening to him self-commentate and curse under his breath, it was nice. Normal. The most normal interaction you’d had since before your trip to the cabin. Even after the argument… disagreement? You’d just had, Anakin still made you feel safe and secure, loved and cared for. Even when he was in his own little world, focused on something else, he was still doting on you with soft touches and quick glances of adoration. He was so easy to forgive, he made things easy to forget.

He made it easy to be at ease.

Curled up next to him with a comfy blanket tucked around you, his thigh for a pillow. The warm cedar scent of his soap and the soft scent of his laundry. It was all a big, cozy bundle of security.

While he waited on another load screen, you began drifting to sleep with his hand in your hair and his soft whispers of sweetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a blissful and serene peace lighting up your face; only to turn pale and ashen as your body jolted awake at a familiar tune.

You’d finally placed that song. You’d heard it here, right here.

Part Seventeen

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[paradiseprincesss]

Imagine Jackson Rippner with an innocent gf with Stockholm syndrome that just absolutely adores and loves him and trusts him completely and is very affectionate

human - jackson rippner x reader

masterlist

notes: im working diligently on all my other requests guys i promise!!

summary: you develop stockholm syndrome after you were kidnapped five months ago, and you become hopelessly devoted to your captor.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mdni 18+, [DUB-CON], smut, p in v, kidnapping, guns, knives, stockholm syndrome obviously

it had been nearly five months since you went missing. nobody knew where you had gone, and there had been a manhunt for you ever since you disappeared. your friends and family were grief stricken - everybody was. a young, promising, beautiful woman going missing after her morning jog; nobody saw it coming.

your city was a relatively safe place to live in, there was very little crime in that specific area. however, when jackson touched down in your city for a two day layover whilst he was heading home from a mission, you'd caught his eye. he didn't even think twice about it - he knew right then and there he wanted to keep you as his.

as soon as he got to his hotel, he grabbed a knife and shoved it into his pocket. he returned to the neighbourhood that he had passed on the way to his hotel; the same one he saw you jogging in. with high hopes that you were still there, he walked around the area with his eyes peeled. to his delight, he was correct - you were still going for your jog outside in the fresh, vibrant, morning sunlight.

it was a shame, though. the trail by your home that you were jogging in just happened to have a lot of greenery by it. trees, branches, tall bushes, you name it. luckily for jackson, this made what he was about to do a hell of a lot easier. you were oblivious - headphones in and jogging peacefully down the trail in broad sunlight. "what if someone were to ambush her?" he thought to himself, "she should really be more careful."

in just mere seconds, he pounced.

he grabbed your neck from behind, choking you with your back towards him. he slammed your neck onto his chest, fingers wrapped tightly around your throat, and he tore your phone and headphones away from you as he threw them into a nearby bush. steadily, he held his other hand up to your throat with the cold, metal blade of the knife pushing into the side of your neck - for good measure.

"don't fucking scream," he said lowly into your ear, "behave. if you don't, i'll slice your throat open right here, right now."

you could barely even whimper out a response, as the vice he had around your throat was strong enough to cut off your ventilation. you tried to respond, but you couldn't articulate any words due to the way he was choking you.

"scream and i'll kill you." he threatened once more, loosening his grip on your throat so that you could breathe again.

with heavy, gasping, heaving breaths, you slump your head against his shoulder as your vision became spotty and you started to experience severe vertigo. he chuckled lowly as he held you against his chest, the blade of the knife sitting right against your jugular vein. he could slice you open right now if he wanted to - and you'd have no choice but to lay there as you bled out and the blood supply to your atrium slowly stilled, leaving you lifeless and limp.

he thought about it, but he wasn't going to do that to you. how could he make you his little doll if you were dead? exactly.

he directed you to keep walking until you flagged down a cab together. he kept the knife out of sight, but you knew he wouldn't hesitate to stab you. he then brought you to his hotel, and you went up to his room with him where he proceeded to hold you at knifepoint and at gunpoint - just in case you got any ideas. this way, you knew even if he didn't have the knife in his hand, he could put a bullet in any one of your arteries at any given moment.

your fear silenced you as you boarded a plane back to his home state, and that is the story of how you ended up in his home in the suburbs. you learned all about what he did for a living from there on, and you couldn't believe that a highly trained assassin was just living in the suburbs amongst everybody else; blending in. i guess it's true what they say; that the average person walks past at least thirty-six murderers in their lifetime unknowingly - or whatever the statistic was.

he'd kept you in his house for months, never letting you step foot outside. sure, he let you open the windows for some fresh air after a few weeks of you sobbing and hyperventilating, but he kept a gun pointed at you the whole time. the first couple weeks were the worst - you were constantly having breakdowns, anxiety attacks, and you were suffering from major depression.

you missed your family, and jackson taunted you by showing you articles and news reports about your disappearance. you just sobbed for weeks after that, and you thought you might die from the anxiety and depression that was slowly eating away at you. then you hit the two month mark. things started to feel less real. you weren't sure if you were slowly dying or just losing touch with reality, perhaps both.

days went by quicker, and your mind was becoming numb. it stayed that way until around ten weeks ago. your behaviour did a 180, but jackson wasn't convinced at first. you started to become unhealthily attached to him, clinging to him every chance you got. you would breakdown if he left for even thirty minutes at a time, and you'd run into his arms every time he came back. you started to beg him to hold you at night and sleep in the same bed as you (of course he didn't say no to that).

he was still on the fence about the whole stockholm syndrome act until you started to beg him to fuck you. at that point, he knew you weren't faking. he wanted to ruin you for the last five months, but he couldn't do it because every time he tried to force himself onto you, you'd put up one hell of a fight. you would scratch him, bite him, hit him, thrash around - the list just goes on. as much as jackson wanted to tie you up and force you to take him as he fucked you senseless, he wasn't going to do that. you were too innocent for that...far too innocent. you deserved to be fucked properly.

so, when you started to beg him to, he jumped at the opportunity. he wanted to destroy you - and he did.

"i love you," you whimpered as jackson forced your head down into the pillows, "i love you so much."

"fuuuuck," he groaned as he pounded his cock deeper into your cunt as you were ass up face down in the bed for him, "such a tight pussy, mm, love you too."

it felt like you were suffocating in the pillows, but that was okay because as long as jackson was happy, you were happy. you don't know why you put up a fight for so long; he was clearly the one for you. you couldn't see it for a little while, but now you were seeing straight again. he fucked you good, fed you well, and treated you like a princess.

sure, at first he held you at gunpoint and threatened to stab you on multiple occasions, but that was your fault. you were the one who disobeyed him and wanted to leave him, so he had no choice. he was doing this all for you because he loved you. you understood that now, and you were determined to be the perfect girlfriend for him. jackson told you that you were his forever. he told you that you were his little angel and that he'd make you his wife soon.

"o-oh, mmph!" you moaned into the pillow as he plowed your soaking cunt.

"yeah, you like that baby?" he grunted as his cock brushed up against your cervix, "are you gonna cum?"

"y-yes, so close!" you whined as he continued to fuck your cunt at a deeper angle, rearranging your insides with every stroke.

you felt yourself leaking down your own thighs, and he groaned at the sight of your slick, glistening cunt as it sucked his cock in with ease. you felt yourself tip over the edge and he continued to pound that same spot inside you over and over. your legs trembled as the clear liquid poured onto the mattress, leaving you a shaking, moaning mess.

jackson continued to fuck you brutally, chasing his own release. "jesus, babygirl," he groaned, "did you just fucking squirt? fuck, that's so hot."

after a few more thrusts, he groaned lowly and you felt his cock pulsing inside of your aching core as he spilled his cum into you. after a moment, he pulled out, watching as his cum dripped out of your pussy.

"that's pretty, stay still for one second," he said softly, and you heard a click and saw a flash of bright light, "so hot, babygirl. you can lay down now."

you did as you were told, and you saw him holding up a camera in his hands. he did this more often then you'd liked, but you didn't complain. if he wanted to take pictures, you'd let him.

jackson did this so that if you ever got the idea to leave or escape, he would blackmail you into staying, but you didn't need to know that. you were too stupid and fucked out all the time to think too deeply about it.

and that's how he liked it. he would come home and fuck you good - so good that you would forget what you were thinking about, and he'd spoil you after he brutally pounded all your holes. he'd buy you expensive gifts and come home with dozens of roses because he loved you in his own twisted, fucked up way. he even started to take you travelling with him because at this point, he knew you were too far in. you were in way too deep, and you didn't want to leave him.

hell, he even threatened to leave you to see what you would do, but you threw a major fit and started to sob uncontrollably. he learned never to do that again because you'd cried for about forty-eight hours straight. jackson gave you everything you wanted, and in return, you gave him your mind, body, and soul.

sure, everyone thought you went missing from right outside your house and that you had most likely been murdered or that you were dead in a ditch somewhere. but you were happier than you ever were in your old life and jackson knew that. he was your home now - and there was no escaping it.

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[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Thirteen

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Allusions to panic attacks, excessive gore, fluff with Simon at the end <3

Taglist: @waves-against-a-cliff @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan @dlishus05

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I HATE THIS CHAPTER LIKE USUAL BUT I HOPE U ALL ENJOY IT

All you could feel was burning.

Your lungs were aflame, sucked into your ribs with every gruelling indent. Your thighs were worn down, almost skinned to the bone, oozing wounds of blood and puss pooling at your knees as you heaved, scraping past thorned bushes.

The trees felt alive, clawing at you with pointed wooden talons, the prickle of sharpened sticks tearing at exposed flesh. Swollen feet met tar, the eldritch smell of a metallic tang consumed you, rotting away in every sense as you panted.

Your skin was like leather, worn down and bleak as your body collided against the abandoned roads, the slaughtered sound of the walking dead nearing with every passing frame. The sight of them was familiar, only mangled now.

You weren’t sure what had happened.

All you remember is how it started.

The day was darker than usual, consumed by an epiphany of greying clouds. The rumble of thunder stalked your every move as you committed to your daily rounds, your heart smouldered by the grief that had caught up to you.

They had all smiled at you as they welcomed you with breakfast. Why did Gaz seem different? Was he ill? You shook it off with a smile.

Why did you shake it off with a smile?

Your stomach was hot now, a building sensation of nausea washing over you as you tended to your garden. You locked eyes with Soap, his own staring back with a darkened hue of blue, any surrounding white slowly turning into a bleak red. Was he tired? You would lecture him about sleeping earlier later.

You felt caged in as you entered the house once more, kicking off your over-worked shoes with a grunt as you headed for the sink, desperate to scrub off the caking dirt that stuck to your fingers.

Gaz was sweating now, droplets of milky residue working down his forehead as he coughed, spluttering into the palms of his hands. His skin turned a ghastlier shade by the time you faced him, his hands shaking before the rest of him followed suit, his body convulsing as it clattered onto the floor.

Your voice was mousy as you called out, your limbs plastered together as you overwatched Ghost press two fingers to his neck, chasing a pulse that wouldn’t come.

The timber that held the house felt weaker now, almost rotten, as it clattered under your feet.  It was crumbly, squeaking under you with every step as you heaved in what felt like mould.

Where was your gun?

You could hear Soap calling out to you, his voice nasally, almost inaudible as he choked on his accent before it turned to blood, his uvula dangling at the back of his throat with every metallic form of discharge from his lungs.

You were in your bathroom now, the tap running with what seemed like extra force as the drain clogged, murky water soon flooding the kitchen as you pounded at the door, rattling with the rusted knob. Your feet were drenched as you kicked in the wilted timber, the frame clattering under you as you climbed through the formed hole you had made, a wooden shard catching onto your forearm with a drag, a pained wince leaving your mouth as you clutched onto the wound.

Everything felt blurred, almost like you were stuck in slow-mo. You could feel Price’s shoulder under your fingers, his skin cold. Why was his neck bleeding? Your touch was soggy now, a familiar squelch sounding from under you as greying eyes met yours.

His grip was strong, holding you onto the breaking floorboards with every snarl, your skin tearing as you were pulled along wilted frames, the oak crumbling under your shoes as you cried. Price’s hands were at your stomach, clawing at the breaking skin with rotting claws.

You could hear your blood thumping as you kicked at his drooping frame, the bones in his legs tumbling into his ligaments as he clattered to the floor. You were dragging yourself to the door now, the grumble of corroding mouths swarming you as you trailed a bloodied path to your frame.

How did you make it to the forest?

The grass mocked you as you watched it die, the blades sphacelating with every step you took. Your hands were on your abdomen, clutching onto the open wound as blood spluttered, your grip pushing against the seeping organs that writhed against you.

Your vision had turned orange now, any welcoming colours forgotten as you pushed against a shrub with your shoulder. The sweet berries you used to eat now turned poisonous as you mewled into the air.

Your throat was closing in now, curling against your oesophagus as your hands pushed into your mouth, pressing into the back of it as you gagged, forcing bile across the ground as you heaved.

Why did you stop clutching your stomach?

You were on the road again. Your trail had gotten stronger as you skinned your knee against the blackened pavement. You felt your eyes close, fluttering to an abnormal silence as your lids ceased any light.

Everything was static now. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? Greedy hands pulled at your flesh, a searing pain moulting into your chest as festering digits tore at your insides, digging through your organs with a tug before holding them to degraded teeth.

You could feel them at your neck, tapping against your skin with uncertainty. Your mouth was parted open, the skin from your lips torn as you attempted to scream only to be consumed by one’s hand.

They were pushing down your throat now, scraping along sensitive walls. Your lungs were drowning, your nose heaving as you attempted to breathe before infested fingers held them closed.

Your eyes were open now, looking down in desperation. There was a strange indent against your chest, tugging and pulling at the veins that penetrated beneath the surface. You could see fingers now poking from inside you, rotting talons digging through the flesh before they pierced the exterior.

How were you still alive?

Greedy hands ripped at your ribcage, snapping your bones like measly twigs. It was red-hot pain everywhere. Your brain stopped thinking, overwritten by the intense agony that writhed through you.

You weren’t breathing. Your lungs were empty. They were mouthing something to you now, their lips consumed by gore. Why can’t you speak? Why can’t you hear? Hands were by your head, pressing along your scalp tenderly as bloodied fingers dyed your hair. Your eyes were wide, begging for sanity.

Your body was emptied now, the residue of beating organs trailed along the road. Your heart was spluttering inside someone’s stomach. Fingers toyed at your scalp, dragging along your forehead with a permanent indent.

You mourned the last of you, your brain repeating the words ‘you’re dead’ in a constant stream. Or was that your own voice? The faces around you were a blur now, their bodies melting into the tar as a swarm crowded you. Your eyes blurred as you took in the faces around you.

They were all you.

Your body was writhing against the sheets, a strum of sobs tearing through you as your teeth tucked into your lips, drawing blood. Simon was fast, his hands resting against the side of your head as he guided you back to reality.

Your voice cracked as you screamed out, shoving him away as you sucked in a breath.

“Sweet’art, you were having a nightmare, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

“S-Simon?”

Your voice was hoarse, stripped from all moisture as you pressed against your stomach, looking down at your perfectly fine frame.

“I’m sorry,” you mewled, finding your voice as you swiped the sweat against your forehead. The Lieutenant was harder to see in the dark, but you could make out the softness in his eyes.

“Don’t have to apologise. I get them too.”

Your brows raised momentarily before you smiled at him, holding your hand out as he grasped onto it. He paused for a moment before he held it to his chest. He was warm.

It was subtle but you could feel it. He could feel it too.

“When they used to get bad, I used to search for my heart and feel the beat. Reminded me that I was okay.”

“I can feel it,” you whispered, trailing your hand up his chest before it met with the apple of his cheek.

“I can feel you too.”

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

[kindaasrikal]

The strangest thing each ninja has used as a weapon:

Kai: a traffic light. He refuses to tell anyone how he got it. He always gets wide eyed with a traumatic look every time someone asks.

Jay: Zane.

Nya: a charging plug. Like, the plug. Not the wire. She keeps in on her shelf and each of the metal rods on it has a small tint of red. No one asks. I lied Zane asked and he smiled the entire time, and than Nya had to hold him because he had a nightmare about it later.

Cole: a paper straw. He somehow won.

Zane: a samosa. He now has monthly dinners with them and taught them how to be 5 star chefs.

Zane, again: a gun.

Lloyd: a milk bottle. The milk was expired.

Pixal: herself. She is the weapon. She made Zane help her put guns and weapons and more built into her.

Bonus+

Wu: a street lamp. Those really tall ones too.

Garmadon: a spork. He lost, and it was his favourite spork that the other broke. It was on that day that everyone learnt not to touch anything he likes.

Skylor: a railing. She lowkey just ripped it off.

Morro: a tree. Please, don’t EVER ask questions.

Vania: a window, plus its frame. Cole ripped it off and handed it to her, she was completely baffled on what to do with it.

Benthomaar: a floaty. One of those baby ones.

Harumi: the front of a bus.

Echo: a bush. Like, a whole bush.

Misako: one of her incredibly special, one of a kind antiques.

Mystake: a fan. You choose what kinda fan.

Edit: i did not mean to make this so Zane centric he just took over my mind for a second (like how the forbidden smth staff took over his)

[shooting-love-arrows]

How would yandere! Slavic groom react to reader being a hunter?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐂! 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 reacts to…a hunter! reader.

SYNOPSIS: Just when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 thought he knew everything about the love of his life, it turns out that it isn't case at all. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 x [Hunter!] Reader (gender not implied/mentioned) Tw. hunting, description of hunting but nothing drastic, cussing, delusional thinking, overprotective behavior.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

POW!

Yandere! Slavic! Groom flinched, when a gunshot rang from behind him. His eyes widened and a finger placed on a trigger, he watched in utter disbelief as the animal hit the ground with a dull thug. It was a matter of seconds, a moment of hesitation on his side, that has cost him a good catch. It took a moment for this revelation to fully sink in. Someone just stole his quarry right before his eyes! 

Yandere! Slavic! Groom clenched his teeth and snarled. Since all his primal instincts were active in that moment, his logical thinking was put aside. Instead, he let his anger take control. High on adrenaline, he swiftly lowered his gun and snapped his head in the direction from where the shot must have come from. Thick bushes blocked him from seeing the delinquent that was hiding in them and he only saw the end of a barrel peeking from it, metal glinting in the late autumn sun. 

“What the hell were you thinking, you bastard?!” He didn’t hesitate to insult the other hunter. The hold on his gun tightened, when he saw the barrel disappearing and heard bushes rustling. Oh, how he just couldn’t wait to punch this fuc –

“I shoot it first so shut up.” 

Words died in his throat when you emerged from the bushes instead. Eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he saw your adorable self clad in a colorful cloak, all covered in leaves, your braided hair messy, sweat could be seen gleaming from your forehead and a big stain of dirt on all of your front from where you were laying on the ground. Despite all of this, in his eyes you looked devine, like an angel but – but…

“W-what are you doing here?” Yandere! Slavic! Groom stuttered, quickly fumbling with the safety of his gun. He felt his face and the tip of his ears heating up until it felt like it was burning. He just embarrassed himself in front of you and…! Not to mention…

Throat dried up when he realized what he had called you. 

“Hm, unfortunately my father fell sick. So my mother sent me to at least try gathering some meat for the winter.” You scratch your head, remembering how your mother thrusted your fathers trusty gun in your arms and shoving you out of the house in the directions of the woods.

“O-oh…”

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

“I am so sorry for insulting you–!” Yandere! Slavic! Groom lowered his eyes until he was looking at his boots and being brave enough to only shyly peek up at you from time to time. His shoulders were still tense and he couldn’t help but to bite his bottom lip, drawing some blood in the process. He felt ashamed and embarrassed for acting brash towards you – love of his life. 

Would that make him a lesser candidate for your hand? Do you think now he'll be a bad husband? Will you find out what he did towards those other lads who proclaimed to be your future husband's? And worse of all: you’ll not want him to be your husband at all!

“Let’s just move past it.” You cut him off and strapped your fathers gun on your back again. “You didn’t know it was me in the first place.”

With that, you started making your way towards your quarry. Your mother will be proud of you and your father might even give you a set of beautiful beads you saw in the market last time…but most importantly, you’ll have delicious meat to feast on during winter. 

And while you were stuck in your happy thoughts, Yandere! Slavic! Groom breathed out in relief after hearing your sweet words. They were like honey soothing his bruised ego, soured mood and reasonable fears. For now, he decided to push back those nasty feelings and focus on the current.

Now that he was made aware that you can hunt, perhaps even hunted in the past, he couldn’t help but feel even more attracted towards you. Yandere! Slavic! Groom even found your hunting skills arousing. You were just so enticing, he began to believe you might be doing it on purpose just to show your interest in him (not like you have to).

A chain of poisonous thoughts began to fill his mind, once again, feeding him imagines of the future you’ll share together. 

Yandere! Slavic! Groom wouldn’t mind taking you to some of the hunting trips. But only after he'll be sure nothing…unexpectedly would take place. Like you wondering somewhere off where he couldn't find you or worse, you getting hurt (he shudders just thinking about it!). And definitely not as a hunter! No, no, no! You're to be his companion, who he can show off his hunting skills and protect.

It’ll be so exhilarating for sure! Both of you, in the wild, letting your primitive instincts take control. Maybe you could do more than hunting…?

Before his mind completely went into the gutter, he made a mental note that he’ll need to hide guns from you once he’ll officially become your husband and start to live together. He doesn’t want you to use it when unnecessary or better yet at all. Why would you need to? You'll have him! He can hunt you whatever you want! Better yet, he’ll do it without you asking.

You might think you are a hunter now but in the end, you’re still his prey.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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[romana-after-dark]

Joel and Sex Pollen... just imagine it...

dub con with both bc sex pollen and Joel is a tad intimidating but trust me, both are very in. Joel is apoligetic but reader begs for more. Tried to keep it all gender neutral as possible. Kinda objectification. Knife play, tiniest of blood play. Somno!!

Maybe he's a little grumpy when on patrol with you

He's hiding how desperatly he wants you but refuses to indulge.

Literally pick your poisen. You're too young is a classic in Jackson era Joel but maybe you're Tommy's friend or some connection to him.

Maybe he has authority over you... maybe you're new here

maybe you have authority over him

Maybe he just finds you annoying but also fuckable.

Or maybe it's joel "i've lost almost everything I ever loved" miller doesnt wanna risk it again

you go out on patrol, make it to the overnight cabin. After dinner you do another round around the general area even though you don't need to... what else is there to do?

Certainly not talk to you. Crazy to suggest that!!!

A clicker comes and almost gets you, knocking you into a bush where a weird powder comes out. Joel kills the clicker with his bare hands and you could come right there

He thinks it's the adrenaline rush at first, maybe he'll admit to himself he was just a tad bit scared of losing you. But only bc you patrol together sometimes and he's a decent guy.

Not bc your mouth pops up when he’s fucking his fist

But as you are both walking back to the cabin (coughing from the weird plant) he can't help stare.

At first Joel thinks it's bc he's watching, making sure you're okay, not hurt or bit as you walk ahead....

But when you both get to the cabin, that itch, that burn is just too much

He pounces on your, lips locked into yours, hard cock pressed up against you and just ferral. He's tugging at your body like his little play thing, groping and squeezing all the plush parts of you

"I'm sorry" he groans, but doesn't stop what hes doing. Joel's face is tucked into your neck like he's to ashamed to face what he's doing

"I'm so fucking sorry, I c- I can't stop… I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, shit, fuck, I’m sorry. Shit fuck"

What he doesn't know is you're burning alive, the whole walk back you'd barely held onto a thread of decensy... but you needed him. You needed him in a way that was tearing you apart from the inside.

Your hands go for his belt, quickly undoing it and tossing it, the holster, and the gun unsafetly to the side.

"Don't worry, I feel it too."

You swear to god, you heard Joel Miller whine.

The moment of passiviy is over and his massive hands are tearing off the shirt while your shove his pants down

You both end up on the floor, you on your stomach and Joel pinning your body down with his spread legs. You couldn't get away, but there was no way you wanted to.

Joel is using his pocket knife from his discarded pants and you feel the cool metal on your skin as he cuts open a hole in your jeans and underwear.

He absolutely nicks you a few times and you whimper, but it's neither his fault or yours. Niether can stay still or concentrait, neither can stay still.

No prep, he burries himself fully inside you. You scream, but push back to meet his thrusts.

It's dark, desperate and needy. You'd never felt anything more intoxicating than his cock filling your hole again and again.

You cum multiple times in a 10 minuet span, and so does Joel. He never softens, only seems to grow harder for you.

Joel takes you like a doll, like a fleshlite created for his pleaure and in that moment you felt like it. Like Joel was who you were created for, to be his cocksleeve, his fuck toy.

It didn't stop you from cumming again.

Joel puts his booted foot on your back, pressing your face into the muddy floor with your ass up, his hands playing with the little bit of blood on your ass.

He kept apoligizing, alternating from begging for forgiveness to ravaging you, pumping your hole with load after load after hot, stick load.

The apolgies weren't enough to make it stop. Especially not after you kept begging for more

He shoves his fingers in your mouth, and you taste the bits of blood.

Eventually, you pass out, and you have no idea how long he continued to use your limp body, whispering sweet praises and desperate apologies when he managed to get them out through the pain.

When he wakes up, he freaks out

You're still in your cut-up jeans. You never did take them off. There had never been time, the need too great to pause for even a second. Everything ached but... Christ, you felt good. Amazing, even. You hadn't been fucked, really properlyy fucked in a long as time

It takes a while to calm Joel down but you do it. The guilt in his eyes is real…

but you give him a blow job just to show you still want him even after the affects of the plant were off.

[nervousd]

DRABBLE — RUN RABBIT!

TW: blood, not very descriptive

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ where are you? Is there something happening?— If something happened, we can talk about it” Adrenaline courses through your veins as you pushed against the leaves and bushes that got in your way. The endless forest stretched out beyond your eyesight— in a way it was haunting. You ran as if a wolf was nipping at your heels— you supposed it wasn’t far from the truth. You leaped behind a tree, pressing your back against the rough bark.

“ You hiding from me? “ you could hear your name being screamed out as his hysteria grew. The wind wailed between the trees, Coriolanus swore he could hear your voice— taunting him. The leaves crunched under his foot— walking deeper into the forest. He was close— too close for comfort. You could run for it— you should run for it. But your legs felt like jelly and your knees were locking together.

However, the fear of getting caught by him and the fate that awaited you was terrifying— so with a racing heart, you ran like mad. The trees beside you blurred as you continued running. You had thrown away stealth and instead gone for speed. At the corner of your eye you swore you saw a glinting metal aiming at you.

There was a loud ‘ BANG! ‘ and your body had hit the floor. Blood was pooling beneath you as a scream ripped out of your lungs. You gripped onto your pant leg as you tried to hold your cries of pain. Tears leaked the corner of your eyes as pain coursed throughout your entire body. Through your blurry eyesight you saw him— Coriolanus Snow heading your way with a gun loosely held in his palms. He looked down at you, with eyes narrowing. Piercing through your very soul— “ you were running from me “

Terror washed over you, raising the fine hairs on your back. He shot you— now your bleeding out in the forest all because you had ran from him. Was he going to kill you now? Because of your disobedience? Or was it because you knew too much? The color quickly drained from your face. Oh god— he was going to kill you and leave you here to rot.

He raised the gun towards you, “ You’ll regret running from me’ “ he vowed.

[the-jade-jester27]

Decided to make another one of these cause the other one got buried so

✨ TF2 ship name list ✨

Engie

A little more gun, brokeback mountain, Hoe-Down, OSHA violation - Engie x engie

Science party, glasses and' goggles, genetic engineering, German engineering - Engie x medic

Heavy metal, brains n' brawns - Engie x heavy

Trucks n' vans, outback steakhouse - Engie x sniper

Quick study, scatterbrains, Texas two step - Engie x scout

Short fuse, brains n' bombs - Engie x demo

Helmet party, rocket science - Engie x soldier

Texas toast, three rubber gloves, firetrucks, fire forged - Engie x pyro

Napoleon complex, practical espionage, knives n' knowledge - Engie x spy

Medic

Science party, glasses and' goggles, genetic engineering, German engineering - Medic x engineer

Double dosage, emergency room - Medic x medic

Red Oktoberfest, birds n' bears - Medic x heavy

Bush medicine, vanbulance, hearts n' headshots, piss sample - Medic x sniper

Blunt trauma, quick fix - Medic x scout

Scotchtoberfest, jagerbomb - Medic x demo

Fruit scones, ethics violation, rabies shot - Medic x soldier

Burn ward, hot pocket - Medic x pyro

Gentle surgery, poison dagger - Medic x spy

Heavy

Heavy metal, brains n' brawns - Heavy x engineer

Red Oktoberfest, birds n' bears - Heavy x medic

Russian front - Heavy x heavy

Vegemite sandwich, vodka shots - Heavy x sniper

Heavy hitters, mice n' men - Heavy x scout

Big bang, red bombs - Heavy x demo

Cold war, red scare - Heavy x soldier

Hot n' heavy, roasted sandvich - Heavy x pyro

Iced wine, Russian roulette - Heavy x spy

Sniper

Trucks n' vans, outback steakhouse - Sniper x engineer

Bush medicine, vanbulance, hearts n' headshots, piss sample - Sniper x medic

Vegemite sandwich, vodka shots - Sniper x heavy

Necklace o' teeth, two Aussies one jar - Sniper x sniper

Speeding bullet, quick scope, coffee n' cola - Sniper x scout

Swordvan, bloody drunk, kaboomerang - Sniper x demo

American aviators, mutually assured destruction - Sniper x soldier

Bushfire, campfire, hot shots - Sniper x pyro

Knife party, bloody suit, French kisses, down under, great barrier thief - Sniper x spy

Missed shots, piss mauling - Sniper x miss pauling

Scout

Quick study, scatterbrains, Texas two step - Scout x engineer

Blunt trauma, quick fix - Scout x medic

Heavy hitters, mice n' men - Scout x heavy

Speeding bullet, quick scope, coffee n' cola - Scout x sniper

A headache, brats n' bats - Scout x scout

Hop scotch - Scout x demo

All American offense, batting helmet - Scout x soldier

Flash fire, weenie roast - Scout x pyro

Swing and a miss - Scout x miss pauling

Demo

Short fuse, brains n' bombs - Demo x engineer

Scotchtoberfest, jagerbomb - Demo x medic

Big bang, red bombs - Demo x heavy

Swordvan, bloody drunk, kaboomerang - Demo x sniper

Hop scotch - Demo x scout

Double dynamite, 2020 vision - Demo x demo

Boots n' bombs - Demo x soldier

Firebomb, Molotov cocktail - Demo x pyro

Bomb voyage, Scottish wine, detonators and daggers - Demo x spy

Soldier

Helmet party, rocket science - Soldier x engineer

Fruit scones, ethics violation, rabies shot - Soldier x medic

Cold war, red scare - Soldier x heavy

American aviators, mutually assured destruction - Soldier x sniper

All American offense, batting helmet - Soldier x scout

Boots n' bombs - Soldier x demo

Screaming eagles, rockethoppers - Soldier x soldier

Fireworks, fourth of July - Soldier x pyro

Freedom fries - Soldier x spy

Pyro

Texas toast, three rubber gloves, firetrucks, fire forged - Pyro x engineer

Burn ward, hot pocket - Pyro x medic

Hot n' heavy, roasted sandvich - Pyro x heavy

Bushfire, campfire, hot shots - Pyro x sniper

Flash fire, weenie roast - Pyro x scout

Firebomb, Molotov cocktail - Pyro x demo

Fireworks, fourth of July - Pyro x soldier

Twin flames - Pyro x pyro

French toast, French fries - Pyro x spy

Missfire, Cesium - Pyro x miss pauling

Spy

Napoleon complex, practical espionage, knives n' knowledge - Spy x engineer

Gentle surgery, poison dagger - Spy x medic

Iced wine, Russian roulette - Spy x heavy

Knife party, bloody suit, French kisses, down under, great barrier thief - Spy x sniper

Bomb voyage, Scottish wine, detonators and daggers - Spy x demo

Freedom fries - Spy x soldier

French toast, French fries - Spy x pyro

Double agent, cloak & dagger, double entendre - Spy x spy

Miss. Pauling

Missfire, Cesium - Miss Pauling x Pyro

Swing and a miss - Miss Pauling x scout

Missed shots, piss mauling - Miss Pauling x sniper

Kentucky fried femslash, hits and misses - Miss Pauling x fried chicken lady

This is an ongoing list that I will be adding to when I find more ship names/ whenever people give me names to add

As an extra note, I will likely not be putting poly ships on the list purely because of the fact that it would get even more difficult to find ship names within the list as it already is

In the future I might make a separate list or section of this post but not right now

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Preview...

"A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues"

(A Terry Richmond Vampire AU Fic)

Summary:

You thought the tattoo on his arm marked him as one of those Hoteps or Nation of Islam brothas that hawked bean pies on the corner with the Final Call. But little did you know it meant more than that. That's why you have to track him down and kill him... before the baby in your belly can turn into his kind.

(This fic will strictly be for the grown and sexy. Smut, Violence, Blood. Dropping October 30th at Midnight on All Hallow's Eve.)

“I don’t wanna wait for love

Every time I do

I don’t wanna wait for love

Waitin’ on him

Are you warm enough?

Coco blood

Are you warm enough?

Coco blood”

Celeste – “Coco Blood”

Celeste Profitt checked the GPS on her smartphone one more time before stepping out of her gun metal gray Dodge Charger.

She drove out to find the pale green double shotgun house, which was sequestered on the outskirts of St. Celestine Parish. Ten years previously, there had been flooding in the county her grandmother named Celeste after, and many families left the area when their insurance wouldn’t pay for water damage. The houses left behind looked like gaps in the teeth of someone with infected gums. It reeked of working class poverty, the kind of poverty Celeste ferociously clawed her way out of by holding down two jobs. One at the poultry factory, where she removed the putrid raw entrails of slaughtered chickens, and the other at a nursing home, where she cleaned shitty bed pans and kept company with neglected elders with no kinfolk nearby.

The shotgun houses left standing weren’t different from the Creole cottage she rented less than seven miles away, and she cut her eyes back to the one she needed. Damp air with the hint of rain coming caused her to sniffle. It smelled old around there, and something had definitely died in some bushes across the street. She zipped up her dark blue windbreaker and fingered the pepper spray she carried in the jacket’s pocket. Couldn’t be too careful around folks who chose to stay in a bad situation. It still smelled like floodwater and deep regrets.

She pulled a cigarette from her purse, but stuffed it back down to the bottom, reminding herself that she was pregnant now and couldn’t hurt the baby that rested in her womb. The urge to puff daily was a struggle, and she refused to toss a ten-dollar pack of nicotine in the garbage. Shit, she might sell a few loosies if she needed to. Her funds were getting low paying for all the high-priced gas she burned through looking for her baby daddy.

Terry Richmond.

That’s what he called himself, but now she wasn’t too sure if that was his real name or not since she couldn’t find his ass anymore once she decided to keep their baby. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She needed to stay calm and not think about the hurt and hate she carried in her heart for that man. Never trust a pretty boy with pretty eyes and a third leg. That should’ve been her motto from jump. But that was neither here nor there with the position she found herself in at the moment. Right now she needed some answers and the woman inside the pale green shotgun house was supposed to have the solution.

She fingered a plastic grocery bag she also carried in her purse. Inside it was a blood plasma bag she toted around every day that she fed from when the urge overtook her on some days. The cravings for blood grew worse, and the fetus inside her stayed absorbing every nutrient from her body. What it wanted most lately was the blood in her purse. The baby inherited fifty-fifty of its parent’s genes, and back when she thought things were cool between them, all lovey-dovey and real passionate in those early days…well, Celeste imagined their baby inheriting Terry’s pretty eyes and her thick wondrous hair. He was lighter than her and she figured the baby would come out a gorgeous brown that was a mix of their two different skin tones. The last thing she wanted was for her child to come out with Terry’s hunger.

For blood.

Celeste zipped her purse back up and concentrated on what she was there to do.

Talk to the Black witch of St. Celestine Parish.

The renowned Voodoo priestess down in Nawlins last weekend was a grand failure at solving her problem. That lady's Catholic ass made the sign of the cross several times throughout Celeste’s consultation, which was a bit much for her taste. Celeste grew up Catholic too, but found it irritating that a Voodoo priestess acted so scary about a bloodsucker, while also bragging about turning people who were made into zombies back into human beings. At least that’s what she claimed on her website. That phony bitch started whimpering and calling for Jesus when Celeste pulled back her shirt and lifted her bra to show the fang marks on her titties that Terry made that never healed properly. She explained how she became allergic to her silver jewelry, and fought with a three-inch bundle of developing cells over blood intake from the plasma bag.

She left the fake Madame Zeroni’s Curio shop disgusted and a hundred dollars broker.

Her homegirl Mercy texted the name of a woman who quietly practiced Hoodoo on her phone. Mercy believed everything Celeste told her because she had been there from jump, and without judgment, guided her to another root of the African diaspora tree.

Celeste lifted her foot onto the first creaky step of the shotgun house and the front door on the left opened. Behind the screen door she made out the face of a man with the skin-color of dark tobacco leaves.

“Yeah?” he said in a gruff tone.

Celeste glanced at the door on the right, which was her destination. She ignored the man and knocked on the glass window on the upper half of the wooden door. The neighbor opened his screen and stepped out.

“You sure you here to see her?” the man asked.

Without a screen barrier, his face looked younger and more handsome, his short locs pointing every which-way on his head like tiny black antennas. The front door on the right opened and a pretty, dark brown-skinned woman stuck her head out.

“Mind ya business, Bertrand. She ain’t here to see you.”

“Lynn?” Celeste asked.

“It’s me,” Lynn said.

She opened her door wider and glanced back at her neighbor.

“Come on inside before anymore noisy birds stick they heads out,” Lynn said.

Celeste stepped over the threshold and passed Lynn to get inside.

“Good Lord, gal, you got a head full of hair on you! How long you been growing it?”

Celeste touched her heavy and long bongo locs that fell down to her waist.

“Ten years now. Since I was a teenager.”

“So thick and pretty. Betcha when you go swimming it’s like fighting with an octopus, huh?”

Celeste grinned.

Lynn was much younger than she expected. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Out in the parish swamps, there was no telling how old melanated folks could be.

“Come on back here into my kitchen,” Lynn said.

Celeste waited for her to lead the way and they walked past two rooms straight to the neat kitchen.

“Hungry?” Lynn asked. “Got some beans and rice on the stove. Frying up some pork chops, too. Go ‘head and sit at the table.”

Celeste took a seat at a small table with a pink plastic covering. The savory odor of red beans and seasoned, fried meat made her mouth water. Her stomach grumbled.

“Oh, yeah, you hungry. I’ma fix you a plate.”

“Please, don’t go to any trouble for me.”

“Ain’t no trouble. Got plenty. I made extra for you, anyway. Pregnant women gotta eat good.”

Celeste stared at the woman. She wasn’t even showing yet and never mentioned being pregnant over their phone call consultation. Did Mercy tell her?

“Don’t get spooked, Celeste. I work as a mid-wife. I can smell a pregnant woman a mile away. Relax.”

Celeste watched the young Hoodoo woman fix a big plate of string beans, red beans & rice and a thick cut of pork chop fried to golden brown perfection. She plopped it down in front of Celeste and fixed herself a plate, too. Her close-cropped brown hair had a cute undercut, and both her ears had at least seven small gold hoops pierced through them. She wore an off-the-shoulder white t-shirt and booty shorts for the heat. Her eyes were small for her face and were the only thing on her that looked mature. Had she not known any better, Celeste would’ve thought she was chatting with a senior in high school.

Lynn sat down across from her and held out her hand toward Celeste.

“I like to say grace over my meals,” Lynn said.

Celeste clasped her hand, and a charge of energy seeped into her palm from Lynn. She closed her eyes as Lynn said a short, heartfelt prayer, then lifted a half loaf of Wonder Bread from her table. She unfastened it and handed Celeste two pieces.

“Ooh, wait, I forgot some libations.”

Lynn jumped up and brought back a large glass pitcher of fresh lemonade. She grabbed two plastic cups and poured them each a good fill.

“I don’t have no ice cubes for it, sorry,” Lynn said.

Celeste sipped and the sweet/tart taste was delicious and cold enough. Both women ate quietly for a few minutes, and after Celeste’s third bite of her pork chop, Lynn stared at her directly with fierce chocolate eyes.

“Did you bring the things I asked for?”

Celeste nodded and pulled out a bundle from her purse and slid it to Lynn.

“I got some hair from a brush he used at my place, and summa his semen. We made love the last time I saw him and he wiped himself with a washrag and threw it in my dirty clothes hamper.”

“Semen is good. Anything liquid from the body is good,” Lynn said, collecting the items that Celeste stuffed in a little sandwich baggie.

“Tell me everything about this man you’re looking for. From the beginning,” Lynn said. “In order for me to make a root powerful enough to find him and bring him back, I gotta know every detail.”

Those chocolate eyes stayed intense.

Celeste fought the urge to sip on the blood in her purse and took another healthy swig of lemonade from her cup before she told the tale, from top to bottom, of how Terry Richmond, a whole ass vampire, seduced her out of her panties, stole her heart, bit her, then left her with something growing in her belly that she was afraid of…

A.N.:

Reminder, this long fic is dropping All Hallow's Eve at Midnight! Comment below if you want to be tagged for a sexy, supernatural treat at the end of the month!

Tag List Thus Far:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

[hazbinshusk]

43 blitz pretty please

prompt #43: a bloody kiss. (warning for gratuitous violence that's still in the realm of the series content). also requested by the wonderful 🕰️ anon.

“Explain to me again why I’m takin’ a backseat to the bloody stuff while you get to have all the fun.” Blitzø says dryly, an eyebrow arched and his arms folded across his chest as he leans against a nearby tree.

“You want to kill someone, go ahead,” you tell him without taking your eyes away from the contraption you’re setting up. You’re sitting on a high branch above him, tail wrapped around the trunk of the tree for stability as you program the device for the desired height and speed. “Just don’t wander off.”

“Hey, who’s the boss here?”

You smile, still tapping away at the controls. “I thought you wanted to see how this works.”

“Sure, I do,” he shrugs. “But only because you using that brain of yours for murder makes me hard as a fuckin’ rock.”

“Such a gentleman,” you say with dry amusement, finalizing the settings before wrapping your tail around the branch you were sitting on and using it to swing yourself into a somersault and onto the ground. You landed on your feet in front of him. “Trust me, when you see this thing in action, you’re gonna be all like ‘Christ on a stick, that was so hot, I wanna fuck you so bad right now, holy shit.”

He raises a brow, trying to keep his delight at your terrible vocal impression off of his face. “Uh-huh.”

You wink, kissing his cheek before shoving him out into the open. “Trust me. And don’t linger once they spot you.”

“Spot me? The fuck?!” he shouts, offended. “Since when am I the bait? Do I fuckin’ look like Mox to—”

He cuts off as gunfire cracks the night air, ducking automatically before it sounds again.

“Oh, shii-IT!”

Blitzø dives for the bushes behind him, and you hear him scrabble towards you just as the mob of gun-wielding assholes you’d been sent to take out burst into the clearing. Blitzø is breathless as he crawls up beside you and looks supremely unimpressed.

“Y’know, next time you wanna—”

“Shh!” you hush him, smacking a hand over his open mouth. Your tail switches in anticipation behind you as you watch the yokels edge closer into range. Blitzø sighs against your palm impatiently. “Okay… three… two… one…”

You slam your other hand down onto the button in the centre of your controller, and the metal ball you’d suspended above them opens, expanding into a wire net that drops like a solid grate, shredding each and every one of the men beneath it like they were made of butter. Blood explodes out of them, drenching the two of you in hot, red wetness.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” you cheer, jumping up from where you crouched. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Blitzø stands, blinking blood out of his eyes and he stares at the massacre incredulously.

“Christ on a fucking stick, that was fucking hot.” he laughs. “Holy shit!”

“Close enough,” you grin, smile widening as Blitzø grabs you by the waist and pulls you into a torrid, hungry kiss.

He tastes of blood and you don’t care, still burning with adrenaline as his tongue tangles with yours messily, his hands clutching at your ass. You jump up against him to wrap your legs around his waist and Blitzø pushes you back against the nearest tree roughly, thrusting his hips up into yours. His tail wraps around yours tightly, pressing the spades of them together.

You laugh into his mouth as Blitzø moans, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. Blitzø’s mouth moves to your neck, heedless of the blood coating your skin as he licks and sucks at your flesh.

“Fucking knew you’d be turned on by this, you horny little freak,” you tease and Blitzø rewards the comment by sinking his teeth into your neck. “Shouldn’t we be meeting back up with M&M right about now?”

He scoffs against your skin, squeezing your ass. “Who?”

You roll your eyes, taking his face in your hands. The blood is warm and sticky under your palms, and he grins wolfishly up at you, grinding up against you tauntingly. Your eyes roll back at the sensation for a second before you sigh. “Fine. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, shit yeah!” he sneers, and you laugh again, the sound turning to a moan as he smashes his lips back to yours.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

Kinktober Day 6

predator/prey

short and sweet today

let's go

schlatt

gives you a head start but doesnt abide by it

a persistence hunter if ive ever met one

walks leisurely in the direction he knows you're going

finds you panting and exhausted in a pile very quickly

"how silly of you to spend all your energy so quickly, toots"

you feel cold metal against your forehead when your breathing finally evens out

he has to make sure you dont take off again before he's done with you

laughs orders at you and taps his gun against you when you arent fast enough

slow at first to work you up

breeds you a couple times before he finally puts his gun away

you had to be too exhausted to run away

but that doesnt mean he stopped fucking you, no no no

ted

a thinker, a planner, a man who plots

he's taking every shortcut you forgot about, keeping an eye on all obstacles that slow you down, will not let you out of his sight

finally gets close enough to tackle you

holds your arms behind your back and leans down to whisper to you

"looks like i won, babe"

think the sumo video, that's him

flips you over and holds your wrists above your head with one large hand

uses the other to shimmy your pants and underwear off (with minimal help from you)

kisses everywhere he can reach while he plays with your clit

dead set on having you cum on his fingers, his dick, and in his mouth when you two finally get home

charlie

an agile opponent for sure

maybe too agile

but not quite spatially aware enough to get away

trips over a bush root

you pounce and attack his neck with nips and hickies before he finally admits you won

"fuck- okay angel, you win, whatever you want"

you decide to ride him until he passed out

milking him even after you started getting sore

your reward was a fucked out charlie that you'll probably have to help carry to the car