#PISTOL squat sorry

[doctormage]

I just want to know why zero of the medical professionals I saw abt my broken ankle warned me that there’s a chance my appetite could be increased after & not just due to stress. I was worried abt something being wrong w me for WEEKS before I finally googled it and found precisely two (2) old forum threads abt how it’s normal to be hungrier after an injury bc your body is working to heal itself (which makes sense when u think abt it). in other news I wish I’d kept a tally of how many packs of fig newtons I have demolished in the last month

[the-froschamethyst4]

Combat Woods

𖤐Pairing: Soap x Rookie! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, heavy language, slight piss kink, P in V, fingering, squirting, eating out, female masturation, kissing/making out, groping,

𖤐Summary: During a mission with her Sargent Soap, she needed to use the restroom, but he thinks she's taking to long and tries to see what's taking her so long

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She walks around with her Sargent. Sargent John Soap McTavish. They had a to secure the perimeter, but Y/n had a little feeling in her.

She started to walk funny, Soap finally turns to his rookie seeing her walking funny.

"What's wrong with you?" Soap asked, looking down at her.

"S-Sorry sir, I have to pee," she tells him.

"Pee? Pee where?" He asked, they looked around and there was were woods, nothing but trees.

"I can use the woods. I've used the woods as a bathroom before, I think you forget I did bootcamp, I'm not afraid of using the bathroom in the woods," she tells him.

"Right, make it fast," he says as she puts her pistol back into her holder and starts moving away from Soap and heading into the woods. "DON'T GET LOST!" He yells at her.

She walks deep into the woods and found a spot under a tall tree, she unbuckles her pants and pulls them down to her ankles along with her panties. She squats down relieving himself, she lets out a satisfied moan, once she was done, she had a thought. Since she's started to join the Military, her personal sexual needs were placed on hold.

She leans back against the tree, her hand moving down between her thighs, she moans when touching her wet folds, she shouldn't be touching herself after she peed, but she felt horny right now.

She starts to strip from her heavy jacket and pulling the end of her dark green shirt into her mouth muffling her moans, as her fingers were moving a bit faster but they weren't quite long enough to hit her spot, but she still felt good.

Soap stayed put were he was when Y/n had left to use the bathroom, he tapped his trigger patiently thinking about where the hell Y/n was and why was she taking so long?

"Did she poop too?" He asked himself, but shook his head, even if she did it's none of his business. But he was slightly worried, what if someone got her and no one knows.

He put his gun away and heads into the woods where Y/n went. Soap looks around even up in the trees just in case, no signs of Y/n. But he could hear something, whimpering and soft moaning.

"You better be wrapping up-" Soap pushed the bushes back seeing Y/n on her stomach ass in the air shirt scrunched at her shoulders exposing her breasts, and fingers stuck inside of her lower half.

"Sargent," she buried her face into the ground, embarrassed.

"You...disappeared to...touch yourself," he says, leaning against a tree.

"I did have to pee," she sits up, covering her lower half with her shirt embarrassed.

"Did you finish?"

"My pee? I did-"

"No...I meant...touching yourself, did you finish?"

"Oh...no...it...takes me a while, my fingers can't reach my spot," she tells him, hiding her face away.

Soap walks closer to her, she looks up at him, he was messing with his belt, pulling his pants off and removing his vest and shirt. He pulls her legs making her touch his crotch.

"You looked so cute trying to touch yourself, but you looked miserable when trying to finish yourself," he chuckles, leaning down kissing her neck.

"I-I-"

"Shhh~ don't talk...let me help you," he says, kissing her lips, cupping her face, his tip just barely grazing her wet folds, she moans into the kiss and he smirks thinking she sounded so cute.

Y/n moved from his lips, but he still kept kissing her neck and chin, he pumps himself a few times before slowly pushing himself inside of her, he was slow to where she didn't notice till he started to move a bit slow.

She threw her head back, moaning softly. She looks into his eyes, and then placed her head back.

"Fuck, go slow."

"I will, I'll go slow just for you...let me know when you want me to go faster," he teased. Kissing her chin again.

Her hands went around his neck, pulling him closer his hands went up her shirt squeezing her breasts, they fitted perfectly into his hands as he squeezed them, gently pinched her nipples, she softly moans and his kissed her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

She sucks on his tongue, earning some groans from him. He smirks and watched her eyes roll and he pulls away from the kiss.

"G-Go faster," she asked him and he picks up the pace just a bit more.

She moans and then felt the same feeling in her lower area, she was going to pee again.

"I-I have t-to pee," she warns him.

"Go ahead," he stays at the same speed, watching her moans, and she tightens around his dick, she moans and felt herself about to pee, which didn't take long.

Soap stops feeling something hot and wet surrounding his dick and lower stomach. He looks down seeing sprits of...pee.

He pulls out watching her pee rush out of her, she moans and he sees cum mixing into the pee. He smirks and waits for her to be done, she moans and then was finished. He smirks moving down and licking between her folds.

"H-Hey don't...t-that's fucking gross," she moans, gripping his hair.

"I've done worse, mo ghraidh (my love)," he says as he continues to lick between her folds and licking up the dripping cum.

"B-But."

"Shh~" he shushes her and keeps going, then he slips his fingers into her, moving them a bit faster and he was hitting her spot. She moans grabbing his wrist and squeezing around his fingers and tongue.

"S-Sargent-"

"Please, no talking," he says, kissing her inner thigh and earning yet another moan from her.

"T-That doesn't b-bother you?" She moans out.

"What, piss? No, like I said..." he kissed her thigh. "I've done worse, piss doesn't scare me," he says.

He starts to push himself back into her lower half, moving back at that same fast pace from before earning soft moans from her and feeling her tighten around him once more.

"You feel so fucking good," he mumbles into her ear, earning moans and soft mewls.

"Fuck," she curses. Her hands went to his lower stomach feeling his body, he wasn't muscular or anything, but he had that dad bod with a bit of muscles. His ripped arms resting next to her head as he moves a bit faster.

"Come on, cum again," he says as she gives out a breathy moan and ended up coming like he asked.

It was fast but they both enjoyed it.

----------

"Where the bloody hell have you two been?" Ghost asked, once Soap and Y/n came back to the base.

Y/n looks up at Soap a little scared.

"Toilet?" Y/n says, shrugging her shoulders.

"Toilet, what do you mean toilet? There's no bloody toilet out there-"

"She needed to go, that's what took us so long," Soap says.

"Right, get your asses inside now."

[tarabyte3]

I was only supposed to have 1 lifting session with my trainer this week, but he had an opening today last minute and offered it to me (first!!! 🥺 I'm going to get a good grade in personal training, etc) so I flew out the door to get my lower body day in. (What is this. What have I become.)

Joke's on me, though, because I regretted it immediately when he rubbed his hands together and went, "Alright, today's a weight increase on a couple of these!"

Me, standing in the middle of his studio: Actually, I already have a prior engagement so I won't make it after all. Sorry!

Him: Just for that you have 3 sets of pistol squats instead of 2

Me:

(I still kicked ass 😌)

[fakesmilesallaround]

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

ANDREA KNELT OVER HER SISTER, cupping her cheek, blood pooled around her body. Tears trickled down her cheeks and nose, dripping onto Amy.

"Andrea." Willow squatted down beside her, looking at Amy. "I'm so sorry."

Andrea's eyes didn't halter.

"She's gone." Willow said in barely a whisper. "You got to let us take her. I promise we'll be as gentle as we can."

Andrea blinked, but still didn't move or speak. Willow stood up with a soft hand on Andrea's back before walking back to the camp, looking for Dale. Maybe he can talk to her.

Daryl grunted, swinging a pickaxe over his head and plunging it into the head of one of the many walkers that occupied the camp grounds before T-Dog and Glenn helped drag it to a fire.

"She still won't move." Willow crept up beside Dale who had been watching. "She won't even talk to us. She's been there all night." She sat down on a tree stump beside the old man, adjusting Sienna against her body.

"We can't leave Amy like that. We need to deal with it." Shane spoke up, sitting on the other side of Dale.

"I'll tell her how it is." Rick looked at his feet before moving over to Andrea's side.

"Maybe Dale should talk to her?" Willow glanced up at Dale and Rick, squinting against the sun, but they didn't consider her opinion.

"Andrea." Rick began to crouch down beside her, but stumbled back a bit as Andrea cocked her pistol and aimed it at his face.

"I know how the safety works."

"All right." Rick nodded, slowly backing away. "Okay. I'm sorry."

She kept her gun pointed at him until he was at a better distance from her, Lori squirming on her log, eyeing Andrea and Rick.

"Y'all can't be serious."

The group turned their heads at Daryl walking up from the tents. "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time bomb." He flung his arm in Amy's direction.

"What do you suggest?" Rick asked, head tilted, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

Daryl stepped up to Rick. "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No." Willow's voice was harsh. "For God's sakes, let her be."

Daryl's eyes burned into her before he scoffed and walked away, holding the pickaxe over one shoulder. "Wake up Jimbo, we got some work to do."

Willow watched as Daryl and Morales started dragging a body towards the fire, but noticed it was one of their own people and not the dead.

"What are you doing, that's one of our people?" Glenn rushed over from the fire to Daryl.

"What's the difference, they all are infected." Daryl continued to drag the limp body.

"Our people go in that row over there." Glenn pointed at the line of bodies that laid against the grass. "We don't burn them!" He cried out, Willow shooting up from the tree stump. "We bury them. Understand?"

She walked over, placing a hand on Glenn's arm. "Come on." She gently pulled at him to remove him from the two men who finally started dragging the body of the man to the other line.

"You reap what you sow!" Daryl called out to their backs, Willow turning around, flipping him off.

Willow walked beside Glenn as they were going to sit down, hoping to comfort him from the losses, but they both overheard Jacqui.

"Are you bleeding?" She spoke up to Jim.

Glenn and Willow looked at the man, a blood stain in the center of his abdomen.

"I just got some on me from the bodies." He sighed, bending over to start dragging a body.

"That blood's fresh, Jim." Willow spoke out, walking over to him now. "Were you bit?"

"No." Jim responded harshly.

Willow narrowed her eyes. She'd be damned to have someone as reckless as him walking around with a bite, endangering her daughter. "Then show me." She was only inches away from him now as he grabbed her wrist, whispering to her.

"Don't tell them, please."

But Jacqui overheard.

"A walker got him. A walker bit Jim!" She stood up frantically, yelling out to the group.

Jim began to stumble backwards as the group surrounded him. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Show it to us." Daryl beckoned. "Now!"

Jim took one more step backwards before picking up a shovel, spinning around, nearly hitting Willow and her daughter.

"Grab him!" Daryl yelled out to the closest people.

T-Dog and Willow moved forward swiftly, both of them taking one of his arms into their grasps. Daryl stomped forward, jerking up the man's shirt. Just as they thought, a deep imprint of teeth was set on his abdomen, fresh blood pooling at the impalement and trickling down his stomach.

Rick directed T-Dog and Willow to sit him down at the back of the RV as the group gathered to speak about what to do with him. Daryl being the first to answer.

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head. And the dead girl's to be done with it."

"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane side eyed Daryl, leaning against a stump.

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

The group went quiet before Willow spoke out.

"I hate to say it, and I never thought I would, but maybe Daryl's right." She earned a look of disappointment from Rick.

"Jim's not a monster or some rabid dog."

"I'm not suggesting that-" Rick cut her off.

"He's a sick, sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

Daryl stepped up beside Willow. "The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be."

"I'm not having my daughter live around two people who are about to start walking again." Willow shook her head.

"What if we can get him help?" Rick glanced around at everyone. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

Willow scoffed. "I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"What if the CDC is still up and running?"

"Come on Rick. That's a stretch right there." She rocked Sienna in her arms, holding her a bit tighter than usual.

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs wouldn't they? I think it's out best shot- shelter, protection."

Willow looked down towards a small branch that rested at her feet, not feeling like arguing with the man again. Shane decided to do that for her.

"Okay, Rick. You want those things, alright? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

Lori shook her head. "That's 100 miles in the opposite direction."

"That's right, but it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there." Shane's eyes were desperate for people to listen to him and be on board with his Fort Benning plan.

"The military were on the front lines of this thing. They've got overrun. We've all seen that. The CDC is our best choice and Jim's only chance!" Rick pleaded the group.

"You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls and take care of this damn problem!" Daryl yelled, rushing towards Jim with his pickaxe in the air, Rick swiftly unholstering his gun and pointing it at his head.

"Rick!" Willow bellowed, standing next to him.

"We don't kill the living." His eyes were heavy, staring down the barrel at the back of Daryl's head.

Lowering his pickaxe, Daryl turned around with a twisted face. "That's funny, comin' from a man who just put a gun to my head."

"We may disagree on some things. Not on this. Put it down." Shane stood in front of Daryl, hands in his pockets just itching for him to make a move. Daryl did as he was told, jamming one end of the pickaxe into the dirt before pushing past Rick. Willow's eyes stayed on Rick as he helped Jim up, taking him to a better spot where people like Daryl wouldn't bother him.

Willow shifted her feet, heading back to her tent as she knew Sienna would be getting hungry in a bit, but stopped at a single gunshot. Looking back, she saw Andrea sobbing, holding Amy's head close with the gun in her hand.

-

At early sunrise, the group loaded up their belongings in every vehicle they had, readying for departure for the CDC. Morales and his family decided to head in their own direction to Birmingham to find their people, leaving us a couple people and a gun short.

Willow walked around the vehicles, looking for a good one to ride along in. Jim had occupied the RV with Jacqui, and she didn't want to risk being in there with Sienna. Jim was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

"You're ridin' with me."

Willow turned, looking at Daryl who had his head out a crappy pickup truck's window. She looked around, desperate to find someone else to ride with, but most of the vehicles were full of people or bags.

She sighed in defeat. "You going to crash and kill us?" She trekked over to the truck.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Just get in." He cranked up the truck, a slight sputtering coming from the hood until it started to rev.

They followed the RV for about 2 hours before coming to a stop along a highway.

"Stay here." Daryl glanced over at her from the driver seat, hopping out and holding his crossbow. She peeked out her window, looking ahead at some of the cars that were in front of them, seeing Jacqui exiting the RV in a rush, ushering Rick to come inside. The others stood around the outside of the RV, heads low, Lori hugging Carl and Carol holding Sophia's hand. It wasn't long until she saw Rick and Shane, helping Jim out of the RV and against a tree.

She stepped out of the truck, approaching the rest of them who watched as Jim panted with parted lips, looking up through the leaves of the tree he sat under.

"I told you to stay in the truck." Daryl shot over at Willow.

"It's fine." She shot back.

She walked over to a crying Jacqui, embracing her in a side hug as they both watched Rick and Shane adjust Jim comfortably. Jacqui removed herself from Willows arms, leaning down to Jim beneath the tree. "Just close your eyes, sweetie. Don't fight." She cupped the man's cheek, giving him a soft kiss on it before backing away and wiping her own cheek, returning to Willows arms.

"Jim," Rick knelt beside him, holding a revolver out. "do you want this?"

"No." Jim said quickly. "You'll need it. I'm okay."

Rick patted his shoulder before standing up again, letting Dale be by the man's side now.

"Thanks for uh," Dale removed his hat, twisting it in his hands. "Thanks for fighting for us."

Jim nodded weakly, taking in a sharp breath, sweating beading at his forehead. Glenn, not too far ahead of Willow, sniffled, his head hanging. She reached out and gave his hand a small squeeze, as if to tell him everything is okay, and he returned the gesture, squeezing her hand back.

Willow looked to Jacqui, holding Sienna out for her to hold. She walked over to Jim's side and knelt down.

"I'm sorry for the shovel." He said through his rough, dry lips.

She shook her head. "Don't apologize. You were scared."

He gave her a weak smile.

"Don't be afraid anymore." She rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand gently. "You've got a family to get to."

Though she didn't know the man well, it broke her heart to see another one of their people slipping through the cracks. A tear dripped down her cheek, catching in the crease of the small smile she had left to offer him.

She caught up to the rest of the group who dragged their feet back to their vehicles, Jacqui handing Sienna back to Willow before she went back to the spot in the RV that she sat in to tend Jim. As they drove away, they all looked out to Jim who sat patiently under the tree, staring up at the rays of sun that parted through the branches.

-

Word count: 2,034

[bestfrozenskittles]

Prologue

———————————————————————————— The night air felt warm on the less than sober man as he made his way from the motel room to quiet his car alarm that had randomly began to blare in the middle, he let out a sigh and thought of the booze waiting for him back in the crappy dirty room. He frowned when pressing the unlock button on his keys didn’t work “Stupid piece of shit” he mumbled under his breath and got into the car to manually turn the alarm off. 

Once it was off he let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. The thought of the men that were after him suddenly brought him great stress. The reminder of why he’s drinking so much tonight made him rub his entire face for a moment. When he looked back up he noticed that his rearview mirror was pointed towards him instead of the back window. 

He sighed again and fixed it, the sight of a black masked person made his blood run cold, the eyes of the girl in his back seat were a cold contrast to the hot bullet that left her silenced pistol and entered in between his own. With a click on her radio she began to speak “Crow to Gold Eagle Actual, your target has been eliminated” She slid out of the blood ridden car and put her weapon away before pulling the mouthless balaclava off her head. 

“This is Gold Eagle Actual, wonderful job Crow your pay is in the agreed spot” With that, F.N took her radio off and shoved it in her backpack with the rest of her stuff before walking away from the scene with her head held low. She walked down the empty streets of London before ducking into an alleyway.

F.N squatted down beside a pile of trash and picked up a brown handbag. A quick check of it revealed her money in cash, she closed it and walked out of the alleyway with the bag on her shoulder. The journey home was quiet and long, she looked at the people sitting on the bus alongside her. Hyper aware of the other humans that surrounded her.

Two people sat behind her while one sat in front of her. A child and a mother sat in the seats directly across from her. In total six people were on the first floor of the routemaster. When her stop came F.N stud from her seat and made her way to the exit. The driver bid her a farewell, distracted by the sudden human interaction she stuttered and ran into someone stepping onto the bus.

“Sorry sir” She looked up at the tall man who had a warm welcoming smile on his face “No worries, you’re alright?” The mutton chops combined with a mustache gave him a fatherly or grandfatherly appearance. F.N nodded “Yes..sorry” She mumbled and walked past him. John stepped to the side and watched the young woman walk off before stepping into the bus and taking his seat. 

After showering and eating something her work phone began to ring. The familiar number that belonged to the general with a sigh she picked up “Hello sir” she spoke first into the phone “Crow, I have another job for you, triple your last pay” Shepherd leaned back into his chair as he stared down Graves. “What is it?” Shepherd nodded “I’ll send a car for you, that car will take you to the airport, I’m afraid this isn’t a job I can explain over the phone.” 

“Understood, the usual agreed location will do sir” Shepherd shifted in his seat “See you soon Crow” F.N tossed the phone onto her bed and got dressed again. She picked up her backpack and stepped out of her hotel room to leave the building. It was already late and the last routemaster was on its last route for the night.

F.N managed to catch it and got on. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon” The older woman driving smiled at F.N only to receive an awkward smile and nod. She turned to find a seat in the mostly empty cart save for the familiar man who sat at the very back with his eyes closed. “He fell asleep and missed his stop” F.N whispered to herself before taking her seat behind the driver. 

When her stop came up F.N noticed the black car waiting for her. She got off the bus and walked over to the car, the man in the car quickly drove her to the airport. From there she was off back to America, where another car was waiting. Shepherd and Graves waited for her to show up “Crow, welcome, I’m glad you could make it all the way here on such short notice, this is Philip Graves your new partner if you accept the offer.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Crow, I’ve admired your work so far” The man extended his hand, F.N took a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. “What exactly will you have me be doing general, if I’m having to team up with another mercenary and tripling my last pay it must be more than important” Graves crossed his arms and looked over at Shepherd. “I need you to accompany and help Graves in a drop off of missiles to the Middle East” F.N frowned.

 “I’m sorry general but isn’t smuggling such dangerous weapons illegal?” Graves chuckled “Well I didn’t think a borderline assassin would be above that” Shepherd put a hand up to stop Philip from going any further. “Why exactly is it that you want to smuggle the weapons anyways? Why is the Middle East so in need of them” Shepherd shook his head “That isn’t information I can tell you Crow” F.N huffed. 

“How high are you willing to go with my pay general”

[drades-lair]

Cheater

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Pairing: Striker/female reader

Rating: M for sexual content and swearing

You smirked wide behind a flared set of cards, one nail tapping melodically on the round brown wooden table while glancing up at your opponent, gaze locking with a pair of piercing yellow eyes sat across the table from you. Your opponent was a pale imp who spoke with a southern drawl with the get up to match, you’d met him here in this smoke filled, crap booze saloon in the middle of the wrath ring and after a couple drinks he agreed to a couple rounds of poker. The imp was watching you carefully probably seeking any tells which you were not going to provide, laying your cards down you pushed all your money into the center of the table with an ‘all in’ declaration.

“I think you’ll regret that course of action,” The imp warned

“Maybe…maybe not…guess we’ll have to wait and see,” You teased picking your cards back up

“Very well, yer loss,” The imp smirked as he pushed his own money into the center of the table

You returned the smirk then revealed your cards at the same time as the imp, a royal flush to a four of a kind and for the first time that evening you saw the imp’s smirk faulter. Chuckling triumphantly, you gathered your winnings from the center of the table, downed the last of your drink then stood from the table elegantly to head for the saloon doors all the while feeling the imp’s gaze following you. Outside you casually counted your winnings when a familiar set of piercing yellow eyes cut through the dim light of sunset, shifting only your gaze in the direction of the imp you watched as he leaned against the bar wall, arms crossed over his chest still maintaining that smirk.

“That was pretty slick in there,” he commented casually

“I beg your pardon?” You asked arching an eyebrow as if confused.

“Don’t play dumb lil lady, I can spot a card cheat from 3 miles out on the back of a hell steed,” The imp chuckled.

“That’s a pretty severe accusation you’re making,” You retorted coyly, tucking away your money while turning to fully face the pale imp.  

“Now listen here, I’m not one ta strike a lady…” The imp began as he pushed off the bar’s wall to swagger over to you. You slowly backed up till your back bumped into the bar’s wall making certain to never take your eyes off the pale imp as he came to stand a mere foot from you.

“But I won’t tolerate one stealin’ my hard-earned money either,” The imp finished his thought with an edge to his voice that was a clear warning.

“And who exactly do you think you are? First you accuse me of cheating! And now you all but threaten me to give back the money?” You dramatically exclaimed

“Name’s Striker, now about that money,” Striker held out his hand as a prompt for you to hand over his cash. As if a switch was flicked your entire demeanour shifted, huge smirk spreading across your features while a deep sigh left your lips along with perhaps the hardest eye roll.

“What if I say no?” You quarried

“Well, there are other ways Ya could pay me back,” Striker suggested with a flirtatious wink

“Ha! Maybe in your dreams cowboy,” You retorted

“Then I suggest Ya give me the cash and get on yer way,” Striker persisted

“Sorry sweet thing, gonna have to pass on both those options,” You informed Striker who released an exasperated sigh.

“Nah, I’m sorry because now…things get messy,” Striker pulled his pistol from its holster

Striker got one shot off which you dodged by squatting to the ground followed by sweeping a leg out to trip the unexpecting cowboy. The pale imp gave a yelp of surprise as his ass hit the ground; you sprang back up managing to grab a steel bar you’d seen sticking from the bar’s wall above where you had been standing. Shoving off the wall with your feet you swung your body weight upwards with a flip to get to the roof where you landed in a squatting position, blowing a kiss with a wink to Striker before taking off along the roof tops leaving a very confused yet highly impressed imp in your wake.

 3 weeks later…

 (Y/N) found herself in a relatively nice hotel after winning another couple rounds of poker, walking into the hotel room she tossed her duffle onto the floor before shrugging off her jacket to hang on the coat rack. The lights were still off leaving only a faint glow from the windows as the sun was beginning to set just as she hung her coat up the hotel room door closed startling the demoness, turning around a pair of yellow eyes pierced through the darkness. The demoness’s eyes adjusted to the darkness revealing the familiar form of Striker leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

“You! How did you find me?” (Y/N) questioned slowly backing away

“It’s kinda what I do,” Striker stated, pushing off the wall to follow (Y/N).

“So, you break into my hotel room? That’s awful brazen of you,” (Y/N) accused as her legs hit the beds edge.

“Humph, Ya mean like how it was brazened of Ya ta cheat me outta my money?” Striker retorted stopping a foot from the demoness.

“Wow, you don’t hold a grudge do you,” (Y/N) sarcastically commented with an eyeroll

“Like a hell hound with a bone,” Striker confirmed

(Y/N) leaned back placing a hand on the bed as Striker got closer, leaning over the demoness with that massive smirk plastered on his features. Snarling angrily (Y/N) brought a hand up smacking Striker hard across the face eliciting a hiss from the imp as he cupped his cheek before firmly snatching the demoness’s wrist.

“Now, now, play nice,” Striker growled

“Yeah right, like I’m going to just allow you to do what you want with me!” (Y/N) exclaimed struggling against his grip.

“Hmm, impressive. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone with this kind of gumption,” Striker cooed continuing to move forwards, planting a knee on the bed next to (Y/N)’s hip.

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) snarled, bringing a foot up to Striker’s torso with a hefty heave easily flipping the imp onto his back on the opposite side of the bed allowing the demoness to get back on her feet.

“I like a feisty lil thang,” Striker chuckled breathlessly, flipping himself back onto his feet. Striker is about to jump over the bed, but the demoness beats him to it, lunging directly towards him to pin the imp to the far wall.

“I’m not your average female,” (Y/N) assured Striker firmly holding his hands to either side of his head.

“So, I gathered,” Striker agreed letting out a hefty chuckle as his smirk spread wider. (Y/N) panted softly, breath mingling with Striker’s as he too panted, her eyes looking the imp from head to toe. A curl of heat settled in her loins at the whole situation, she couldn’t deny the imp was handsome even at the poker game she’d thought the same thing the moment he walked into that bar. The demoness’ brain was desperately trying to tell her this was dangerous but at the same time…it had been so fucking long since she’d gotten any, and her aching loins were demanding more of the handsome imp pinned to the wall.

“Ugh! Fuck it!” The demoness growled irritably, pressing her lips to the imps which seemed to take him off guard for a moment as the imp’s body stiffened then relaxed as he pressed back into the kiss. (Y/N) slid their tongues together however as the kiss grew heated Striker pushed against the demoness’s grip only to find himself pinned harder to the wall with a knee firmly shoved between his legs causing him to release a guttural groan into the kiss.

“Nah-uh…this is my rodeo…cowboy,” (Y/N) breathed out upon parting from the kiss, dipping her head to Striker’s neck where she wrapped her jaws around the front of his throat. A deep growl came from Striker as she bite down just enough to leave surface teeth marks but not draw blood. Striker’s tail came around in an attempt to grab the demoness but in her heightened state of awareness she quickly entangled her own reptilian like tale with his, subduing it almost instantly making Striker give an irritable grunt that only made (Y/N) chuckle. Pulling off Striker’s neck (Y/N) licked her tongue along the mark all the way up to Striker’s chin before pulling back with a wide smirk.

“Fucking bitch! Let me go!” Striker snarled

“Oh? Isn’t this what you wanted? Let me guess…you wanted to be the big bad Alpha, right?” (Y/N) teased, her slight height difference making it easy to manipulate Striker in this position. Another gentle rock of her knee made the imp hiss as a pale pink started dusting his face and (Y/N) could feel the hard line of his manhood in his pants. Noting that this position was going to be impossible to maintain (Y/N) roughly yanked Striker off the wall while he was distracted, shoving him to the bed.

“What the-!” Striker yelped out as his back hit the mattress, (Y/N) straddling his torso with her hands tightly holding his wrists above his head before he even had a moment to recover. The demoness began trailing a hand down Striker’s torso using one hand to easily hold both of his own in place even as he struggled, stopping at his pants where she began undoing his belt. Leaning forwards (Y/N) trailed kisses along Striker’s neck to his nape where she latched on to suck vigorously making the imp squirm further beneath her. Finally, she pulled the pale imp’s belt free of his pants quickly pulling off his neck to tether his hands with said belt, wrapping it around the metal bars of the bed frame after all this was a nice hotel but not that nice thus a wire frame bed was standard. Striker yanked at the binds with a growl clearly this wasn’t what he’d had in mind although (Y/N) was certain if he’d been given the chance the imp would have had her trust up in a similar manner.

“Come now, Darlin’…this is unnecessary, I’ll only bite if Ya ask me ta,” Striker cooed clearly trying to charm the demoness into letting him go.

“Like I already said…this is my rodeo,” (Y/N) retorted unphased by the imp’s attempt, biting her bottom lip seductively as she sat back trailing delicate fingers down Striker’s covered chest.

Another huffed growl escaped Striker, but he appeared to finally surrender to the situation, watching as the demoness shifted further down his body to straddle his hips. Nimble fingers started undoing the buttons on his vest followed by both demoness’s hands caressing down the length of his torso before hooking her thumbs under the hem of his black long-sleeved shirt, pushing it up as her hands caressed back up over bare skin. Leaning down the demoness licked a strip from Striker’s stomach to his chest where she planted a couple kisses before moving to one of his nipples, swirling the nub with her tongue before sucking down onto it. Striker tipped his head back with a moan who ever this woman was she sure as fuck knew what she was doing because fuck! Striker had some good sex in his time, but this right now was quickly out doing all those times, he’d never gotten so hard so quick in his life! Even by his own hand. The demoness caressed claws down Striker’s ribs on the one side while flicking his other nipple using her thumb on the other hand, still sucking liberally on the original one she’d taken into her mouth.

Striker started unconsciously rocking his hips in an attempt for some kind of friction however it was almost painful as his jeans were far too tight by this point. Suddenly the abuse on his chest stopped as the demoness pulled back only lightly caressing her claws down the expanse of the imp’s torso to the waistband of his pants where finally she popped the button then pulled the zipper down before pulling his jeans down to his thighs. (Y/N) let out a chuckle as she lightly tapped the pad of her index finger to the drooling slit of Striker’s cock pulling away a small strand of the precum before looking up to see those yellow eyes watching her intently, half lidded as he panted deeply with a deep blush across his face. The demoness cupped her hand around Striker’s balls gently massaging her thumb over them while her fingers caressed along the backside of them eliciting another moan from Striker along with what sounded like metal bending. (Y/N) started sucking on the index finger of her other hand then moved it below Striker’s balls to his entrance immediately causing the imp to stiffen.

“Hey! What are…Ya…doin’?” Striker panted out

“Hush, I’m going to make it feel amazing,” (Y/N) assured the imp as she pressed the single digit into Striker.

“Ugh…fuck!” Striker cursed as his head fell back again with the sound of metal bending getting louder.

“That’s it…easy now…” The demoness cooed as she started thrusting her finger however the hand that had been on Striker’s balls suddenly moved to the base of his cock.

“Holy…fuck! Satan’s balls!” Striker cried out in surprise at the sudden contact to his overly sensitive dick.

Chuckling softly the demoness slowly stroked upwards then back down setting an agonizingly slow pace as she caressed along Striker’s insides seeking that one spot, she knew would make the cowboy reel in pleasure. A sharp inhale was all (Y/N) needed to know when she found the spot, she started rubbing along it while still stroking his cock although she did increase her pace slightly along with a twist of her wrist near the head. Striker started letting out grunting groans that mingled with the whining of the metal of the bed as it was bending from Striker’s straining, his teeth clenching as it appeared he might be trying to hold back.

“Come on cowboy…cum for me,” The demoness encouraged

“Fuck!” Striker exclaimed with a guttural groan as he released, spilling cum onto his own stomach as well as over (Y/N)’s fingers while she continued to stroke him through the waves of pleasure.

Pulling back the demoness began to strip revealing a lean muscular figure with that lavender skin glowing in the moonlight coming through the window. (Y/N)’s eyes began to glow bright yellow as her pupils turned to slits, pulling out a condom from her pants pocket she seductively ripped it open with her teeth then gingerly slipped it onto Striker’s still hard length. Tossing all her cloths to the floor (Y/N) crawled back up just passed Striker’s cock, sitting back on her haunches for a moment to caress her cunt. Slowly (Y/N) made a show of sliding her fingers along her wet folds before dipping briefly into her pussy then repeating the process again all while under that glowing yellow gaze. Satisfied (Y/N) repositioned by raising her hips then guiding Striker’s cock to her vaginal opening, slowly the demoness lowered herself onto Striker’s cock making them both moan in pleasure till she was sitting on Striker’s hips with both hands on his stomach just waiting to adjust.

A few moments passed before (Y/N) started moving, raising her hips up then lowering back down in a circular motion. Striker started thrusting his hips upwards in time to the demoness’s movements slowly increasing in speed till she was leaning back with her hands on his thighs, head tipped backwards with open mouthed moans. The demoness was so distracted she didn’t notice the sound of leather snapping however she did notice when Striker sat upright and firmly wrapped an arm around her back while supporting himself with the other, increasing his thrusting with a snarl into the demoness’s chest. (Y/N) didn’t care that the imp was loose at this point because the slight shift in position as well as speed was hitting all the right spots making her lower abdomen clench.

“T-Touch me…please…” (Y/N) panted out, hair falling messily around her face as she looked down at Striker.

Striker obliged moving his arm from the demoness’s back to slide his hand to her pussy, massaging two fingers in circles on her clit making her release a gasping moan. The duo were panting heavily with sweat beading along their skin when (Y/N)’s orgasm released causing her to clench around Striker quickly pulling the imp over the edge as well into his second orgasm of the night. Remaining still for a moment to regain their senses the two eventually started parting, (Y/N) pulling off Striker to lay on her back on the other side of the bed while he fell back. Silence filled the room for a long while as the euphoric high of a good fuck slowly started to clear.

“I gotta admit that was probably one of the best fucks I’ve had in a while,” Striker broke the silence glancing over to the demoness beside him.

“Well, glad I could oblige,” (Y/N) chuckled softly

“For my reputations sake I hope it was just as good for Ya,” Striker smirked

“It was…still want your money back?” (Y/N) asked sarcastically with another chuckle

“Nope, that was well worth it,” Striker chuckled back

Striker pushed up off the bed to strip his clothing off then head for the bathroom clearly heading to have a shower while (Y/N) continued to bask in the after glow, pulling the sheets up over her naked body before grabbing her pants with her tail to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Striker emerged from the bathroom about 20 minutes later with only a towel around his waist, white hair tussled from being dried briefly with a towel as it was still damp. (Y/N) exhaled a puff of smoke as she eyed the imp who’d begun getting dressed.

“A fuck and go huh?” (Y/N) inquired taking another drag of her cigarette

“Ha-ha, I’ve got a job in the mornin’ and only a few hours of sleep before then…luckily my room is on the top floor of this hotel,” Striker laughed shrugging on his jacket.

“Hmm, alright. Perhaps we could do this again sometime…or maybe you’d like another game of poker,” (Y/N) suggested with a small smirk

“Guess we’ll see now, won’t we,” Striker retorted with a smirk and a wink before heading out the door.

(Y/N) softly chuckled to herself as she finished her cigarette then headed for a shower herself.    

[swinging-from-my-cable]

your post with the sentence "and i kinda sorta have it worse because i'm on crutches i don't get the advantage of any kind of rolling" shows up right in the wheelchair tag on tumblr (i know you didn't tag it like that and i'm not saying you meant to i'm just trying to warn you) and i super understand the frustration with disability access but please be mindful of saying that sort of generalized thing when it can go right into the tag for something like that. i don't think it was meant maliciously at all and you should totally vent it out i'm really just trying to warn you how it's showing online to random wheelchair user passersby. i'm sorry your day was frustrating getting around and i hope your area gets better accessibility and that gundam is good

My blog, my posts, my opinions. I didn't tag it with anything even remotely relevant, so this is tumblr's fault, not mine. Take it up with them, not me. If someone hates me, they can debate off anon or, far more easily, just block me.

And yes, being on crutches is, in its own way, more difficult to get around. You're slower, just like you are with a cane. It's exhausting. Your weight is constantly in muscles it's not supposed to be in. I've hung out with folks in a wheelchair, not while I was on crutches, and yes, wheelchairs are hell to deal with. This building only has a ramp on the far side. The sidewalks only have cuts in the most inconvenient places. The lecture halls only have steps, so you're stuck in the back. You can't see the food in the cafeteria. You're in a bind during a tornado warning on the third floor of the building. Half or more of the time, you need a specialty chair but insurance sure won't pay for it.

But anyone who has any ability to use a rolling aid has the advantage of not being this slow (I was recommended a knee scooter, which would be way faster, but I basically can't go anywhere anyway), and not being totally off balance to the point of nearly falling over whenever they have to shift directions or certain positions. Their weight isn't being continually forced into their forearms and one leg. And I have strong arms and a decent pistol squat. Someone with a wheelchair doesn't have to go pick up meds at the pharmacy and hope the store has charged the cart. Sure, I can get up stairs sometimes, and I can go to the toilet without as much difficulty. Crutches have TONS of advantages over other situations. But I can't carry a popcorn bucket back to the theater. Everything is effectively three times as far for me, and I can't take advantage of momentum to keep moving. I can't ask someone to help move me unless they are willing to carry me the whole way.

Thanks for being respectful, but if someone in a wheelchair is offended by the fact that crutches are, in their own way, harder to use for the period we have to use them, I hope they can someday walk briefly enough to experience this unique hell.

[slootpoot]

Longhorn - Chapter Five

05 | Greywater Longhorn Masterlist

You’re sulking toward the wall of the sewer, refusing to touch it and refusing to look at the greywater beneath you. 

“I bet this runs to Zach’s place, too,” Sam says. 

“Nasty freak is using this vile place to move around,” you complain, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“Look at this.” Dean bends down, staring at a mushy, gooey pile of a mix of skin at blood. Their faces curl, and Dean hears you audibly gag. 

“Oh my God, I’m crawling out of the Arch window. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m quitting my job.” 

While Dean chuckles, Sam ignores you. “Is this… from his victims?” 

Dean shrugs, flicking out a pocket knife and squatting, using it to pick up a bit of the mush pile. You gag again, and he cringes. 

“Put it down, Dean, oh, God.” 

“What if…” Dean starts, frowning at the lump of skin on his knife. “What if this thing sheds its skin after shifting into someone.” 

“Jesus, someone get me out of here.” 

Dean sighs, shaking his head. He helps you out of the sewer, and you’re all soon standing at the trunk of the Impala. “One thing I learned from Dad?” 

“Silver bullet to the heart, cool. Someone get me some fucking ginger ale and crackers, I’m gonna throw up.” 

Sam’s phone rings, and he closes it as Dean closes the trunk. “This is Sam.” 

It’s on speaker. Dean hears Rebecca through the phone, and watches as you lean closer to nosily hear better. 

“Where are you?” 

“We’re near Zach’s. We’re just… checkin’ some things out.” 

“Well, look, Sam, just stop. I really don’t need your help anymore.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I told the lawyers that we went to the crime scene.” 

Sam scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Why would you do that?” 

“Well, I told them that we were with a police officer. And they checked it out, and they told me that there is no detective Dean Winchester.”

You visibly wince, giving Dean an awkward look. 

Sam continues. “Bec -” 

“No, Sam, I don’t understand why you would lie about something like that.” 

“Bec, I’m sorry, but -” 

“No. Goodbye, Sam.” 

The call dips with a beep, and Sam sighs, disappointed. 

“I hate to say it,” Dean starts. “But that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. They just - it’d be easier if -” 

“If I was like you.” 

“Hey, man,” Dean groans. His brother has a dejected look on his face, and he can see you gnawing on your lip, itching to end the conversation. “Like it or not, we are not like other people. But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig - it ain’t without perks.” 

You clear your throat, handing a gun to Sam before he tucks it in the waist of his jeans. 

“I think we’re close to its lair.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face.” 

Sam turns to see the aforementioned pile goobing off a pipe and jumps back, holding a fist to his mouth. “Oh, God.” 

You grumble, moving over to a pile of slightly-moist clothes in the corner. “Looks like the freak has lived here for a while.” 

“Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away with?” Sam whispers. 

He turns to Dean, eyes wide. “Dean!” 

Dean twists, seeing the same man that got escorted in the police, a sick, twisted smile on his face. “Sam!” 

Before Dean can react, the man’s fist collides with his face and Dean crumbles to the ground. 

Sam is quick to push you behind him, pistol in hand. The shifter is sprinting down the sewer drain and Sam lets a few bullets fly, but never once does he hit. 

“Get the son of the bitch!” Dean hollers. 

Dean is the first out of the manhole, pistol raised and ready. When it’s clear, you follow, Sam behind you. 

“Can’t see him,” Dean says. 

Sam nods. “Let’s split up.” 

You start walking away, unholstering the pistol on your hip and holding it with two hands. Dean hesitates, but starts walking down the alley opposite of yours. He doesn’t find anything in the alley, or on the street for that matter. 

He finally runs back into Sam on one of the street corners. People give them odd glances, but they merely keep walking. “Anything?” 

“No,” Sam sighs. “He’s gone.” 

They head toward the Impala, but Dean pauses before opening the door. “Think he found another way underground?” 

“Yeah, probably.” Sam tosses the Dean the keys, but freezes after. “Hey, where’s Y/N.”

Dean freezes, looking around frantically. He sees no sign of you; not your bobbed black hair or your trademark red lipstick. “Fuck, Sam.” 

Sam eyes his brother suspiciously. “Hey, didn’t Dad face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?” 

Dean scoffs. “What the hell does that have to do with where Y/N went?” 

“There’s gotta be something in his journal, right?” 

Pausing to think, Dean shakes his head. “Nah, man, that was Austin. It was a psychic projection though, remember? Turned out not to be a shapeshifter after all.” 

Dean moves to the trunk, popping it open. Sam withdraws his gun, pointing it at his brother. “Don’t. Move.” 

“Dude, chill,” he chuckles. “It’s me, alright?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Where’s Y/N? Where’s my brother?” 

The shapeshifter smirks, lips curling evilly before he swings the crowbar, and Sam’s vision goes black.

[stay-healthy-org]

Mobility Is Not Just About Stretching

Mobility Is Not Just About Stretching - Moving shouldn’t around hurt, at least not always. If you have what is considered a normal range of motion, you should be able to stand up, squat, walk, bend down, and reach over your head without any real effort or pain—and without having to warm up (LOL, sorry that made me giggle – reminded me of a scene from Zombie Land). Kelly Starrett is a Doctor of Physical Therapy co-author of the best-selling movement book, Becoming a Supple Leopard, and the founder of The Ready State, an online movement coaching service and gym in San Francisco. Starrett emphasizes the importance of movement and mobility to avoid pain and stiffness in the body. He discourages traditional static stretching and being “bendy” and instead prefers to talk about things in terms of mobility and mobilizing. He emphasizes that the body is “robust, tolerant, and anti-fragile,” and that the resting state of the human being is pain-free. However, the body has a “use-it-or-lose-it” policy. For example, if someone sits at a desk for hours each day, their hip flexors, hamstrings, and joints will stiffen, potentially leading to back or knee pain and trouble walking. Starrett explains that if someone doesn’t use their body in specific ways, they can lose the ability to do so. Too much typing or other computer use can impact the entire upper body.

Mobility Is Not Just About Stretching

Starrett breaks down the normal human range of motion into seven basic shapes: four shoulder shapes (arms straight overhead, straight out in front, tucked by the side of your body as if you’re about to do a press up, and by the side of your body with your elbows pulled high), and three hip shapes (a deep squat, a deep lunge, and a deep pistol squat). Every human movement is performed using some combination of these upper and lower body shapes.

Mobility Is Not Just About Stretching

If someone is struggling with everyday movements, these shapes should be considered pointers to the things that need work. If reaching overhead isn’t comfortable, they should spend time working on their shoulders. If they can’t reach down to the floor, they can target their hamstrings. When someone’s lower back or hips feel tight, the best thing they can do is spend ten minutes doing a couch stretch on each leg while watching TV.

This is NOT a couch stretch....

...more like THIS woman stretching while watching TV. Starrett believes that the body should be able to do the things someone wants it to do when they want to do them, whatever they happen to be. People shouldn’t have to warm up for two hours to go to the gym or play with their kids.

Pain Is Information

"Doctor, doctor, it hurts when I do this", Doctor: "Well, STOP doing that!" One of the most important things to know is that the body is fully interconnected. If someone has back pain, the problem might be in their back, but it could also be above or below. The back is a system that’s connected to the hips, so if someone is talking about back pain but not talking about how their hips move, they’re not actually talking about the back, they’re talking about 50% of the system. You remember the old children's song, The hip bone's connected to the back bone The back bone's connected to the neck bone, The neck bone's connected to the head bone, Now shake dem skeleton bones! ANYway.... The same is true for a lot of other problem areas. If someone’s neck is stiff, they also need to look at their shoulders, upper back, and ribs. If they’re having issues when they bend their knee, the problem could be in their calf or thigh muscles. People should not focus on one area but instead work everything around it. Pain is the body’s way of telling someone that something is up. The sensation can come from an injury or physical impairment, but it can also result from tissue stiffness, not moving enough, or sitting weirdly. People shouldn’t be walking around sore every day. Working in an office shouldn’t leave someone hurting. If it does, it’s a sign that they need to address something. They should locate the problem, figure out what system it’s a part of, and find an exercise that will help. People don’t need to leave home and dedicate their lives to yoga to start working on mobility. They can incorporate these movements into their everyday life. Starrett advises to stand up every 20 minutes if someone is sitting for a long period of time. They can do a couch stretch while watching TV. They can squat down when picking something up off the floor. That means simply moving more. “We suggest 10,000 steps as the first level, but some day you’ll only get 6,000 and some days you’ll get 15,000.” Just moving and using your body more, rather than staying seated at a desk or in front of a TV, is enough to mitigate a huge number of problems. If you aren’t getting up and wandering around every so often, start doing it now. Starrett also recommends people mobilize for 10 minutes before bed. This can be as simple as getting down in a deep squat or lying on your back and stretching out, or you can take a more active approach and use a tool like a lacrosse ball or foam roller to work over any areas that are giving you trouble. Your muscles shouldn’t hurt when you press down on them or stretch them out, and you should be able to breathe comfortably while you work on things, Starrett explains. If you’re lying on a foam roller and you’re in agony, stop—you’re doing something wrong.

Find What Works for You

Starrett is a big ole strong guy. He’s a former elite athlete, runs a CrossFit gym, and throws around heavy weights. If you’re a bit of a meathead, like me (I am a Giverik or a Kettlebeller, BIG bells), his approach might work well for you. But if you find Starrett’s stuff a bit too intense, you can also check out Jill Miller’s Tune Up fitness and Sue Hitzmann’s MELT Method. Both are pretty 'mild' and a great way to increase mobility or maintain your current state of good mobility. Or just go your own way entirely. It’s your body—do what works for you. Steve Maxwell, my fitness guru, often expresses that we need to create our own workouts and fitness routines. Not everyone can, or should, do the same thing.

You’re Not Trying to Win

Moving well and without pain isn’t a game you can win. At no point can you just declare victory and say you’re done; that your knee is totally fixed and you’ll be able to hop, skip, and jump into your 90s. Modern life is always going to throw you curve-balls and you’ll need to adapt. “You’ve just got to continue to play better and feel better,” says Starrett. “This is an infinite game.” How you play is up to you. Read the full article

[etdraconis]

As he watched Naela get into the car with her brothers, Jaime sighed softly. Lion whined, coming back to his owner with his ears drooped. He chuckled at the little dog, squatting down to scratch him behind the ears.

"Sorry, little one, but it looks like you'll have to wait a bit longer to get your pets from her," he joked. "Come on now, let's go get ready for the day. We'll see her again tonight."

-- Later that evening --

The day had been long and full of meetings between his classes - most of which could have easily been an email - and by the time Jaime locked up his office for the night, he was exhausted. He glanced at his watch as Lion all but dragged him excitedly and cursed to himself. Naela should already be gone by now; he very rarely missed her leaving campus and always worried when he did. With any luck, she would be with her brothers or at home by now.

Lion happily bounced along beside him as Jaime crossed campus to the staff parking garage, checking his messages. He smiled softly at his brother's messages; Tyrion had texted him with random book recs again, as well as an invitation for dinner. Another text Cersei contained a similar invite. Jaime ignored that one for now; his sister always seemed to have ulterior motives when she invited him over, and he didn't have the energy to deal with that.

He was halfway through his reply to Tyrion when he heard a commotion in one of the nearby parking garages. Jaime frowned as Lion started barking, looking up from his phone. That was when he heard it - a woman crying out. But not just any woman. He would know the sound of that voice anywhere. It lingered in all of his most vivid dreams. Naela.

Quickly tying Lion's leash to a nearby bench, Jaime sprinted toward the sound of the incident to find a group of men trying to kidnap her. Anger rushed through him, his hand going to the pistol holstered to his belt. He wasn't supposed to have it on campus, technically. But considering his role as protector he had managed to get special permission for it. And he would be damned if he wouldn't use it on these fuckers now for touching his girl.

Wait. No... Fuck he couldn't think about that right now.

"Hey! Let her go asshole!" he yelled out as he approached them.

"Who the hell are you? What do you think you'll do to stop us, pretty boy? " one of them sneered.

Jaime drew his weapon and pointed it the man, face dangerously calm.

"I am Her Highness's royal guard, and I will put a bullet in your skull if you don't step away from her now," he growled.

Naela was already looking at Jaime (of course), but she beamed when Lion began barking to say good morning to her. She'd played with the little guy a few times, usually when he was outside with Jaime on weekends (though it was a lot easier to pay attention to the corgi during a barbecue, as opposed to when his handsome owner was hand-washing his car 😍). Naela loved animals in general, but especially when they were fluffy ones that she could hug. She got ready to run across the street to say hello to Lion (& Jaime), but her brother stopped her.

"Uh-uh. I've got my 9:00," Jon huffed, barreling out of the house like a man on a mission. Naela was about to tell him that that was bullshit, because he was not a morning person & she knew that he was just trying to get to his girlfriend sooner, but then her dad appeared. She loved her father--he understood her more than anyone else in the house did--& yet, if he found out she had a crush on his colleague, he'd lose it. He wouldn't yell at her, but he would definitely give her one of his exasperated talks, which she could only sometimes get out of by pouting. Naela knew this from experience; when she was caught kissing her date as he dropped her off after prom, Ned Stark had come charging out of the house with a frown & a flashlight, asking the young man just what he thought he was doing. It was embarrassing. Also, Naela was pretty sure that if her current crush was revealed, her dad would get her removed from both Jaime's history class & his fencing group. So she wisely waited until her dad was in the front seat of the car, then she waved back at Jaime (smiling, of course) & ducked into the car, tossing her backpack between her legs once she was in.

Thank goodness he wasn't just some guy who lived across the street.

[raphsweapondealer]

I made another one 😅

Workout addition:

Sorry. My mind wanders in the morning in my humble little home gym, these are my little headcannons for the boys workout style.

Scenario: Turtles and their significant others working out, the calesthetic exercises/muscle group each turtle likes to watch their S/O do/work.

Mikey:

Basically everyone agrees he's a boob guy

Naturally he loves when you do chest day

You wear a low cut shirt and start doing push ups you'll leave him a drooling mess.

Triangle push ups? Um. Yes please

It's even better since chest exercises make your breast bigger/well shaped

He so loves that and definitely pays attention

But will love you and your boobies no matter what size and shape, of course. Your HIS babes!

If you're staying low and going fast with your push-ups He'll watch then bounce and gawk at you

If you go slow? Oh yeah. He'll watch your muscles flex. Very VERY nice!

Donnie:

Will sneak a peak at you when you do core exercises

Loves watching you do leg raises

Especially when you effortlessly weave your legs up gracefully.

Russian twists? Absolutely.

If you can get your legs up in the air while you do them he especially loves watching your body move!

Same with incline sit up, the curve as you come up.

He tries to be subtle but his brother and you catch him staring a lot. Not that you mind

How can he not? You're gorgous, and you got the perfect amount of sweat built up to compliment/bring out your features!

Wearing a belly shirt while you do this will actually end him

Leo:

Shoulders. Not so much because of the muscle group you're working, he loves the exercises you do

When you start practicing your hand stands he will definitely crane his neck

Dragon push ups.... Oh boy....

When you dip down, and move up, and repeat

He'll be watching your shoulders flex, but stare, well, more center of you When you finish coming up, it tende to flex your pecs.

When you back up He'll watch your ass go up in the air. Make him lick his lips.

He'll be staring so hard Splinter might need to raise his voice a little to get his attention

It's embarrassing. The cool, collected turtle can't help it when it comes to you.

You'll basically be hypnotizing him

He swears you do it on purpose!

LOVES seeing you get better, making progress, and being able to do more.

Raph

Infamous ass guy of the fandom

Naturally loves when you do leg day

Squats specifically

Nice and slow

Oh? You can do Pistol squats/1 legged squats?

He won't even hide the fact he's staring you down. He's shameless the, lug.

Bulgarian jump squats? Very nice, look at how grateful and balanced you've gotten.

More importantly look at how big your ass and legs have gotten?!

Or if you're just starting out? Doesn't make a difference to him. His attention is ALL yours

If he's weight lifting you'll probably notice him lifting more weight than he typically does. You have that effect on him. OR

He might stop his own work out, and not let you finish your workout

Just be prepared for that if you do leg day around him!

[cathedral-spires]

Introducing my GW2 Commanders

Long post with pictures under the cut. I took some liberties with the canon and I’m not sorry.

Ciela Marquis

Class/Specialization: Warrior/Berserker Wields: Greatsword, Mace/Axe

Growing up in Divinity’s Reach orphanage until she was of age, Ciela was no stranger to judgement and the terrible happenings to the world. She learned from a very young age that she could not rely on anyone. She also learned it is better to have thick skin and to have a tough exterior at all times. She watched her peers come and go, learned of awful circumstances that put them there, and grew to be sharp in the world. She was a fierce protector of the young children, and she was not the nicest person to strangers.

When she aged out, she joined the Lunatic Guard and served under Mad King Thorn. She was impressive with her fighting skills and her undying loyalty to the crown. The conflict between Oswald and Edrick became explosive and after some extremely traumatizing events, Ciela sided with Edrick. She swore to serve, protect, and die for the Prince if she had to.

Her unwavering loyalty to Edrick is frightening, and colors her morals as such.

(I consider her my only real “Commander.” Everyone else would not be able to handle the pressure of fighting Elder Dragons and taking down Liches.)

Phytalae

Class/Specialization: Necromancer/Reaper Wields: Greatsword, Axe/Warhorn

After a near-death run in with the Nightmare Court, Phyta started studying necromancy as a way to cope. If one can control death, they cannot be harmed by it. She excelled and made a name for herself with her skills. Necromancy is seen as a dark art, so it did not win her many friends. She left the Grove and joined the fight against Zhaitan and the other elder dragons. She eventually chose to specialize in power and became a Reaper. She looks fierce in her armor and with her large sword. Phyta is sweet and she’s more likely to feed someone rather than cut them down. She enjoys reading, jewelry making, and taking care of her minions.

She began her research on necromancy, Grenth, and funeral rites and culture during her time with the Priory. She made a name for herself with her research on the Awakened and Crystal Desert’s culture around the Dead.

Garret Hawkmaze

Class/Specialization: Thief/Deadeye Wields: Rifle, Sword/Pistol

Garret was the middle child of three boys. His parents ran Hawkmaze Farm. a Queensdale wheat farm that supplied grain to local bakeries and breweries. His farm was destroyed by Bandits. They robbed his family, killed his younger brother and parents, and took him and his older brother. He was about 11 years old at the time. He was a hostage and servant for the bandits for an unknown amount of time. During this period, his older brother was killed by the bandits after he tried to escape. Garret picked up his thieving skills from the bandits; he mostly taught himself. He escaped the bandits and lived on the streets of Destiny’s Reach during his teens.

He did anything he could to survive; Steal, fight, lie. He became a great pickpocket and squatted in abandoned buildings. He enjoyed whiskey, gambling, and cigarettes. He became very good at cheating in cards. He was a familiar face to the guards. He joined the Order of Whispers to get out of jail time. He became a skilled sniper and grew to have a shred of discipline.

He was forced to retire from the Whispers after being blown off a hillside in Drizzlewood. A bomb blew up near him and had severe wounds. He ended up losing his right eye from the incident. He returned to Destiny’s Reach, where he bought a home and adjusted to normal life. He took up raptor racing and is pretty successful. His raptor’s name is Rex and he only has two brain cells.

Garret is still a shit head. He still enjoys whiskey, gambling, and cigarettes. He’s gay as hell too.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

sinking

request: Helloo! 👋🏼 I really like your stories for Spencer Reid, they’re pretty detailed, creative and really interesting! So.. idk if you’ll see this but I was wondering if you’re willing to create a Reid x Reader where, the reader doesn’t know how to swim and so one day, an unsub who works around waters or something holds reader hostage and then shoves her into the ocean off the dock, in hopes to run away and no one knows she can’t swim besides Reid who jumps after her immediately? Sorry, thank u! :)

for: @tooweirdforyou 

word count: 2,600                                                                                     reading time aprox: 10 mins

masterlist

New York City, the land of naked cowgirls in the middle of Times Square, overpriced souvenirs, and home of Broadway shows. Unfortunately we didn’t have the privilege to be stationed in the heart of Manhattan, since our unsub had decided to execute his activities in the suburban neighborhoods of the city.  

We were seated in a police station in Rockaway. The neighborhood we were in was low on the socioeconomic spectrum, which offered a clue to the profile we’ve built. Me, Spencer, and Morgan sat around in the conference of the station, discussing our frivolous adventures of life as we waited for the rest of the team to head back from their tasks. 

“Wait so you’re telling me that you hate the ocean?” Morgan teased Reid, nudging him in the shoulder in a brotherly manner. “Why is that?” He continued, a smirk making its way onto his lips.

“Do you have any idea how many microbes are in the ocean” Spencer cringed, crunching up his nose in disgust. “In a single liter of seawater alone, there’s approximately a colony of one billion bacteria and ten billion virus-” He explained before getting cut off by Morgan. 

“Oka-okay germ boy, enough of that before you ruin my image of a perfect vacation” 

“Germ boy? That’s new” I interjected in amusement, laughing as Spencer squatted lower in his chair to hide the oncoming blush on his cheeks. “Oh come on Spence- hey everyone’s got some sort of phobia” I reassured, reaching over to ruffle his tangled hair. 

“Well actually, a phobia is-” 

“Don’t ruin it Spence” I joked, watching his lips curl up into an amused smile. 

On cue, the rest of the BAU entered the building in a hurry. Hotch and JJ ran side by side into the office where we held Raymund Celter, a relative of the suspected unsub, for questioning. Me, Spencer, and Morgan looked at each other in confusion, until Emily walked up to us with an embittered expression. 

“What’s up?” Morgan asked, directing the conversation to the suspenseful air that surrounded the four of us. 

Emily sighed, rubbing her forehead in frustration. “Our unsub...isn’t who we thought it was” She admitted, letting her eyes cast over the interrogation room where Hotch and JJ were.

“Wait- but our profile still fits right?” Morgan insisted with his eyebrows furrowed and his forehead etched with lines. 

“Yeah, but we’ve been looking at the wrong type of relationship” She sighed, her defeated expression indicating the exhaustion that all of us shared. “If the unsub isn’t a relative- and we ruled out employees since the victims aren’t necessarily affluent- who else has full invitation to the house, is comfortable enough with the family, and is particularly close to-” She paused mid sentence as all the cogs in our brains were turning until we all settled on the same idea. 

We looked at each other in revelation and it seemed like JJ and Hotch shared a similar idealization as they rushed out of the interrogation room. 

Emily was quick to get Garcia on the phone, witnessing the troubled looks she received from Hotch. “Garcia, can you see if there were any family friends or close neigh-” She requested, although she was abruptly cut off by Hotch informing her of the details that they’ve uncovered. 

“No need for that. The man we’re looking for is Henry Bennett, he grew up next door to the Celter’s residence- Garcia can you look for the last known address” Hotch commanded, chewing the inside of his mouth in anticipation. 

“Uh- we might have a problem, sir” Garcia sheepishly admitted. “Well I’ve looked at his DMV records and there are 4 possible locations where he can reside at” Garcia explained, sending the coordinates to our tablets. 

“Um okay, we’re going to have to split up. JJ and Morgan, Emily’s with Rossi, Reid you’re with me- Y/N are you okay doing this by yourself?” Hotch asked, concerning wavering in his eyes. I nodded in affirmation, already strapping on my gun and heading to the armory for FBI bullet proof vests. 

After everyone had situated themselves in the right attire, it was time to leave in separate cars. That’s when Spencer pulled me aside by the arm, clutching it with a tense hand. “Are you sure you’re fine going alone? I can tell Hot-” He rambled, his words laced with the same concern Hotch expressed previously. 

“Don’t worry germ boy, I think I can handle myself pretty well” I jokingly reassured. Although the lines etched across his forehead didn’t seem to lessen as I tried to lighten up the air. “Listen Spence...I’m going to be okay- I promise I’ll be extra careful” I expressed in the hopes that his doleful expression would vanish. 

He responded with a hesitant nod and a tight lipped smile, pulling me into a warm embrace. He smelled of pumpkin spice candles mixed in with a little sweat, which, oddly, made out to be a comforting aroma. 

“Hey germ boy, If it makes you feel any better about before, I’m absolutely terrified about the ocean too- well all types of large bodies of water” I sheepishly admitted, ruffling the top of his head as I went to open the front door of the SUV. 

“Wait what?” He replied, taken aback by my profession. “You are?” He continued with a smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, I don’t do well with the whole “deep water and the unknown thing” I expressed, staring at my twiddling thumbs. “I also, kinda, don’t know how to swim either” I blushed, climbing into the front seat of the vehicle, watching Spencer’s grin grow. Finally bidding a final adieu to all of my colleagues, I headed out to the coordinates I had been assigned to. 

-

With my luck, I was sent to a docking area near Rockaway beach. The coordinates that Garcia had sent me were of an old fishing hut near the coastline. I was in constant contact with the rest of the team, communicating whether the unsub was to be found at our locations.

I surveyed the area with my gun close to my chest, pointed down to the floor. My eyes flickered to the water numerous times, feeling my anxiety rile up in my veins as I attempted to keep my focus on finding unsub.  I was essentially on high alert, every creek and every sound triggering my flight or fight response. 

It wasn't until I had gotten to the fishing hut that my anxiety rose to a new high. The small house was located at the end of the dock where the waves crashed against the wooden spokes below the thin bridge. 

Suddenly, I had heard footsteps from the inside of the hut. I raised my gun into a more controlled position before taking a breath, tentatively opening the door to enter. “FBI”  I yelled, feeling my arms shake as the sound of the water amplified, bouncing off the floorboards. “ Henry Bennett”  I called out,  surveying my surroundings. “ I'm from the FBI, I just want to talk” I peaked  around the corner, seeing a slight shadow of a figure at the end of a hallway. 

I radioed in my location, letting the rest of the team know that I had found the unsub. Hotch informed me that the rest of the team we're coming soon, although they might take longer than expected. With a brief goodbye, I finally made myself known, locking eyes with the unsub himself. “Henry Bennett-” I began but was ultimately cut off with his radical spiel. 

“Ge-get away from m-me” He stuttered, a pistol in his right hand pointed directly at me. “Y-you don-don’t understand. NO ONE UNDERSTANDS!” He yelled, his behavior becoming more unstable by the minute. 

“Hey, it's okay-it's okay, I'm here to help” I proceeded to attempt to calm him down as he started to hit his head with his other hand. Although he continued to inflict harm to himself, repeating the same mantra as before. 

“NO ONE UNDERSTANDS! NO ONE UNDERSTANDS! NO ONE-” 

 In the midst of his words I cut him off abruptly,  placing my gun in its holster to indicate peace. “Henry, look at- hey look at me Henry”  I called his attention, halting his actions. “I'm here to help, my team is going to come very soon and they are going to help you” I reassured, creeping closer to disarm him. 

“Ar-are you sure?” He whimpered, still clutching onto the gun with the tight grip.  I placed my hand over his, letting him sink into my touch. 

“Yes Henry, I promise” I softly guaranteed, feeling his grip loosen up as I rubbed his back to  soothe him. Although as I proceeded to take away his gun, he tensed up again looking at me with doleful eyes. 

“Do you really promise?” He asked in desperation, searching my eyes for the truth as I fished out for his weapon. I nodded, giving him an understanding smile as he finally let go of his weapon. I calmed him down, telling him everything was going to be okay, letting him kneel down into the position to apprehend him for his crimes. 

Unfortunately, the team had picked this time to approach the area, the loud sirens engulfing the dock, triggering the unsub to expel in a violent outburst. Suddenly I was pinned to the ground with strong arms, while malicious screams were emitted from the unsub's mouth. 

“You promised! YOU PROMISED!” The unsub repeated, reaching over to retain the gun he had. “You lied to me- JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM!” He sobbed, pressing the cold metal against the back of my forehead. “Now you’re going to pay” He threatened, forcefully pulling me up to my feet and walking me out to the docks. 

The team came into view as we walked out, although my vision was distorted due to the tears that began to appear in the corners of my eyes. “Henry Bennett, FBI, let her go and things will go smoothly” Spencer spoke, maintaining a calm composure. When he locked eyes with my terrified ones, I saw a chink in his armor. 

Despite the small discovery, he had a firm grip on his gun, pointing it directly at the unsub as the rest of the team followed behind him. 

“NO! SHE LIED TO ME!” Henry bellowed, digging the barrel right into the side of my head as he held me by the neck.

“Please Henry, nobody has to be hurt” Emily interjected, trying to extinguish the situation in a peaceful manner. 

“But- but” Henry shook his head, letting his malevolent expression falter for a moment. The team crept closer to where we were positioned. Soon enough, Henry noticed this and for every step forward the team took, he would take a step back. 

It was until we had reached the end of the dock that the team had realized. “Please Henry, we know what happened with Raymund- we know that his parents didn’t approve of your friendship with him-” Emily began, placing her gun in the holster, similar to the tactic performed before. “-or should I say relationship. It was wrong of them to-”

“THEY WERE WRONG! THEY LIED TO ME!” He screamed, the gun in his hand shaking as he loosened his grip. “I loved him and they t-told m-me I couldn’t” He cried, dropping his weapon. 

The team took this as an opportunity to approach Henry, seeing that he was disoriented. But, they soon found out that they were wrong. Henry threw himself into the water with his arm still latched around me. I struggled against his grip, beating against his rib cage as he fought my resistance. 

With a hard blow to the forehead, I was able to swim up to the surface. I glanced at my feet, seeing his unconscious body drift down into the dark abyss. Terrified thoughts raced inside my head, thinking of the possibility of drowning and never being found. I squirmed and kicked, taking in a breath of air as I broke into the surface. 

Suddenly, I was scooped into a pair of arms as I continued to panic and writhe in their grasp. I took chaste breaths, my eyes still covered with water, so I was unable to see who had me. It was until Spencer’s soothing voice reached my ears, that I finally calmed down. 

“Y/N! Y/N! I got you- hey I got you” He repeated, although the affirmation was more for his own state of mind. 

My breathing was still rapid, but my brain had registered that I was going to be okay. I let tears mix in with the sea water on my cheeks as I sobbed in terror. The cold sensation of the water increased my adrenaline by ten fold. I gripped onto Spencer’s vest, similar to a child with their mother, letting his voice soothe me. 

I placed my head in the crook of his neck as he pulled the both of us near a ladder. He pushed me up gently, encouraging me to climb up to the rest of the team. Once I was situated on land, I sat down and burrowed myself into my knees. I was embarrassed, yet grateful that Spencer had saved me, knowing that my severe fear of water was now known to the rest of the team. 

Finally, Spencer knelt down to where I sat, wrapping his long arms around where I had enclosed myself. I let myself lean into his embrace, nuzzling my head into his neck once again as he helped me control my breathing. 

A blanket was placed on the both of us as I refused to get up. Spencer gave a sideways glance to Hotch in the way of saying “give us a moment’. The team had refuted back to their cars in respect to Spencer’s request, leaving me and him on the dock. 

“Than-thank you” I muttered, able to muster up the strength to express my gratitude. 

“It’s nothing Y/N” He reassured, letting the sound of seagulls and the waves permeate the ambiance of the scene. “When...when you told me that you had a fear of the water- and that you can’t swim- seeing you getting pushed into the water nearly gave me a heart attack” He admitted, breathing into the top of my head. 

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do to thank you Spence. I was so- so terrified- and you went to- I just- thank you” I praised, looking up into his worried expression. 

I placed an apprehensive hand on his cheek, getting a better look at the beautiful features that graced his face. I smiled at him, observing how his eyes would flicker from my eyes to my lips. I blushed at the discovery, letting myself lean more into his embrace. 

Slowly, our faces closed in on the distance, our breaths fanning over each other’s faces as we looked at each other for any indication of resistance. Finally our lips collided in a kiss, maintaining slow movements as we melted in each other. 

His lips were supple and tasted like vanilla lip balm, although his movements were gentle and meaningful. He grazed my cheeks with both of his hands, cupping them in his palms as he pulled away. He proceeded to place chaste kisses on my forehead as I let my eyes close at the feeling. 

“I think that was a pretty great way to thank me” He grinned. 

“I guess I’ll just have to keep thanking you for all the times you’ve made my life better” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​

A/N

i hope this is okay, not my best work, but i hope it’s still enjoyable. 

[cilliansgirl]

angel ✧ finn shelby

Pairing: Finn Shelby x Female!reader

Warnings: mentions of rape, sex, just overall bad themes

Summary: After Finn left (Y/N), she goes to another Peaky boy for comfort. But three months in, he gets a little too comfortable and her boys aren’t there to save her this time.

A/N: This is bad bc I literally wrote it in 30 mins but hey ideas are sparking which I am not opposed to. 

GIF IS NOT MINE

She'd only given in because she was lonely. She didn't love him. He had only been there for her company. Now here she was, unable to get flee from the situation. He asked her to get married; she knew by the golden glint in his eyes that he was serious. She cared for him, but not as much as she did Finn. When did they even start dating? She doesn't remember. The past three months have all been a blur to her. It was all for comfort, all to satisfy her physical needs. She didn't know what to say. She blankly stared at the simple diamond ring held out to her. She felt her whole body shut down. She had to do it. She had to reject him because he wasn't Finn.

"I'm sorry, I-I can't," she whispered, almost inaudible.

"But you said you loved me," he retorted, his rage starting to rise.

"I don't."

"You don't love me or you won't because I'm not him," the man angrily slipped back.

“Both,” she stated, finally making contact with the firing rage in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she attempted to rush out the house but not before he harshly grabbed her wrist.

“You’re not leaving me,” he shot back.

“Please, please, stop,” she urged softly, twisting her hand to escape his grip.

He shouted, “No!”

Before she became aware, it was all happening. He had grabbed her waist and turned her towards him. She was fighting and fighting but he had taken advantage. It was never supposed to happen like this. She never meant it to go this far. She stopped fighting, she gave up. The boys had taught her how to fight when she was with them, but he was simply too strong. Nothing could save her. Her clothes were ripped off, her whole body became numb. She felt like a rag doll; being used, pulled, thrown in every which way. She didn’t really believe in God, but in this moment all she did was pray. Prayed that someone, anyone, would walk through the door. Prayed that Isaiah would walk through the door and save her like he always did, but no one came.

The next three hours were traumatizing. She just wanted to go home, so she did. She left while he was asleep, cautious not to wake him. Her clothes were ripped to shreds; she was in no place to be walking the streets of Small Heath, especially in the cold weather. The only decent piece of clothing keeping her covered was her long trench coat. She arrived at her door after what seemed like an eternity. She hurried and slammed the door shut just as harshly as she entered, swiftly locking every bolt on the door. Her first thought was to get it all off, every filthy touch and heinous word had to be washed out, so that is what she did. She doesn’t exactly know how long she had been sitting in the tub, but she knew it was time to get out when the water began chilling. She wrapped herself in a black cotton towel and grabbed her undergarments from her wardrobe.

After dressing herself slowly, the young girl looked in the mirror at the marks the man had given her. She thought unforgivable things.

Maybe this is what I get.

Maybe its karma for your family’s past.

I don’t know what to feel.

You cried the entire time, you have no more tears left.

Maybe screaming would let out my emotions.

Or even sleeping.

I have to tell someone.

Tell who? You have no one around.

Tommy, Finn, Micheal, Pol, anyone.

They don’t love you anymore.

Don’t say that.

You’re not Finn’s girl now, they left you. Accept it.

But Isiah-

No. Isiah hasn’t come to visit you since you moved on your own.

I need protection, what if he comes back and hurts me again?

Let’s leave, we can go to London.

No, Small Heath is home.

Before the voice could rebuttal there was a startling knock on the front door. She quickly got covered in a casual dress with a slip on over to hide the animalistic marks and bruises. On her way out from her room, she grabbed the pistol Finn had given her on their first official date.

Use it if I’m not there, alright?

She sneakily padded her bare feet to the door, careful not to make any noises the would alert the visitor there was anyone home. She put the pistol up to the door, looking through the peephole, holding her breath.

She sighed, it was only Pol. She tossed the pistol on the vanity in the hallway, pulling her slip tighter around her so Pol wouldn’t be able to make out the bruises. She unlocked the four bolts that held the door down before swinging it open with a small smile.

“My dear (Y/N)!” Polly exclaimed, bringing her in for an embrace.

“Hello, Polly,” she spoke, more quiet than usual, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ms. Polly Gray.

“Please, come in, get yourself out of the cold,” (Y/N) continued.

As Polly made her way to the dining room table, (Y/N) shut the door, gathering her slip once again.

She walked into the kitchen, not daring to make eye contact with Polly.

“Can I get you anything Pol? Water, tea, whiskey?”

Polly quietly shook her head, bringing the ashtray on the dining table closer to her. (Y/N) made her way to sit across from Polly, finally able to meet her eyes.

“Why are you here, Pol?”

“Just because you and Finn are not together anymore does not mean I will not come visit you,” Pol criticized, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed quietly, pulling her notebook in front of her, trying to make herself busy. What (Y/N) didn’t think about was that reaching over the table caused her slip to droop down her neck, exposing one of the worse marks.

“God, (Y/N)! What happened to you!” Polly shouted, throwing her cigarette on the table, rushing to inspect (Y/N)’s body.

Instinctively (Y/N) pulled the slip closer to her body, “It’s nothing Polly, just leave it.” Before Polly could even reach (Y/N), she had scurried off to her room and locked the door, ignoring the shouting of her name while doing so.

(Y/N) curled herself up in the corner of her room, knees to chest, head resting on the tops of her knees. Minutes later (Y/N) heard someone approach the door. They attempted to twist the handle, but to no avail.

“(Y/N), just tell me what happened. I promise I will not get upset,” Polly stated softly.

“No, I can’t,” (Y/N) sniffled, “It’s all my fault Pol.”

“Hey, hey. Just open the door and we can talk about it.”

As seconds passed, the young girl gathered herself and slowly eased the door open, leading Polly to sit on the edge of her bed.

“We don’t have to talk, I just need you to shake your head yes or no,” Polly eased.

(Y/N) shook her head in agreement.

“Was it the new Peaky boy recruit you met at the Garrison?”

Yes.

“Was it consensual?”

No.

“Did he hurt you?”

Yes.

“(Y/N), were you raped?”

Yes.

The hot tears streamed down the girls face, while Polly leaned over and embraced her, welcoming (Y/N) to cry in her chest.

“Come on, darling. I’m going to make a call,” Polly whispered, kissing the top of her (h/c) hair.

The two walked to the phone that was in the main entrance corridor. Once the phone call as over, it wasn’t 1 hour that all of the boys were over at (Y/N)’s; they were comforting her, not really knowing what to do, so they decided the best thing to give her was space.

(Y/N) leant on Micheal’s shoulder, his arm rubbing up and down her back.

“He’s taken care of (Y/N),” Tommy squatted down in front of her, “He won’t be coming near you ever again, darling.”

(Y/N) nodded, quietly thanking them for taking care of the issue. But all of them know that they couldn’t rid their best girl of the trauma she experienced.

it wasn’t long until Finn and Isiah walked through the door; if you thought the atmosphere was already tense, you were very much mistaken. Polly looked at the grown men and then to Finn, ushering them out of the room so (Y/N) could take to Finn alone.

He sat on the couch next to her; it was obvious that he had been crying too. But his tears were tears of rage and anger. Rage and confusion on why anyone in their right mind would do this to a sweet and stunning girl like her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, angel,” he whispered, “I should’ve never left you alone. I should know better.”

“Why’d we end it?” She asked, catching him off guard.

“I-uhmm-I was afraid of putting you in danger. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you,” Finn spoke.

“Well, looks like that was thrown out the window,” she joked, yet still with a monotone voice.

“Come back with me.”

She turned to him, “What?!”

“Come back home. You’re safer with me than with anyone else. I’ll make sure no one even looks at you the wrong way. Just please come back home,” Finn pleaded.

(Y/N) hesitantly nodded, leading in to kiss him as he did the same. After they pulled apart, she rested her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her, safely. For the first time in four months she felt at home.

“I’m never leaving you again, understand. No one hurts my angel.”

[real-fanta-sea]

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

[theartofimagining13]

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

SYNOPSIS: They are very bad men but, on the scale of evil, where do they rate?

ALEX INTRO | COMPLETE CAST POSTER & SOUNDTRACK |  AESTHETIC, POSTERS & MORE

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: 1.”Parallels”  2. “Master of Puppets”  3. ”White Knuckle Tight” 4. “Bad Hombres”

WARNINGS/NOTES: Let us not forget that this is a work of fiction and the actors mentioned here are just portraying my characters. There’s violence, blood, and death.

There’s also changes in POV.

Enjoy.

The neon cow sign was buzzing outside the butcher shop under the cloudy sky.

Inside, Bill was standing in line and staring at his take-a-number ticket. The butcher smiled at him when his turn came up and he approached the counter. He asked for a specific cut of meat.

“Do you mind if I cut it myself?” Bill asked motioning at the cleaver on the counter. He chuckled at the butcher’s reaction. “Sorry. I’m a chef.”

The butcher stared into his green eyes. There was something about them he found quite unsettling. Only then, he became aware of the two men behind Bill who looked nothing like customers even though they were holding their tickets too. Through the glass doors, he could see a third man, discreetly blocking the entrance by standing there and lighting a cigarette. The silence that followed was unnerving. The man started to sweat. He instinctively reached for his cleaver but Bill was faster.

He snatched it and viciously swung it to chop the butcher’s fingers on his right hand, each one of them except his thumb. Drops of blood landed on Bill’s face while the man screamed from the excruciating pain.

“Where the fuck is he?” Bill asked.

One of his men pulled out a shotgun, previously concealed in his jacket, and aimed at the butcher who was sobbing. Bill grudgingly got a plastic bag from a dispenser adjacent to him, picked up each severed finger and put them inside. He waved the bag in front of the butcher.

“I heard somewhere that if you put them on ice, a doctor can reattach them. I might let you get to it if you answer the fucking question.” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on, man. Don’t you want your fucking fingers back?”

The terrified, trembling butcher slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder for Bill to follow his line of sight. He noticed the plastic strip door in the back of the store.

“Thank you.” Bill said as he forced a smile and let the plastic bag fall on the counter. But that smile faded in the next second as he walked away. “Shoot him.” He ordered.

The butcher immediately received an impact to the chest and his lifeless body plopped down on a chair behind him.

Bill got the shotgun and his men pulled out their pistols as they went through the strip curtain and into the walk-in freezer. In the back, behind all the hanging meat, they found a secret door that led to an underground room. They barged in and found four men forming a circle around two others; one of them was on his knees, with his hands tied behind his back and a black hood over his head, while the other was just standing in front of him and holding a chainsaw, about to pull on the start cord.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” Bill warned calmly enough to get their attention and without provoking an immediate violent reaction.

But they all reached for the guns holstered in their waistbands at the sight of his shotgun and company. All in vain, for Bill and his men fired away before their fingertips could even brush the handle of their weapons. One by one, they all fell to the ground. The man with the chainsaw had been shot in the kneecaps and was still alive and writhing in pain. Bill kicked the chainsaw out of reach and stood next to him.

“Cine dracu’ ești!? (Who the fuck are you!?)” The man yelled.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Bill scoffed. “You’re with that Romanian Black Sheep son of a bitch?”

While the man kept cursing in Romanian, Bill squatted down next to the one that was kneeling and tied up. He removed the hood and met his older brother’s blue eyes which widened slightly with surprise and relief. Alexander was badly wounded and showed obvious signs of torture. Angry and worried Bill freed him and helped him stand up. He then pressed the shotgun barrel against the Romanian man’s cheek, ready to end his life.

“No.” Alexander stopped him with a hand gesture and hoarse voice.

Bill frowned but watched as his brother staggered towards the chainsaw, picked it up. While the man begged for his life, one of Alexander’s saviors brought back two gas cans and started pouring it all over the shop. Alexander pulled on the start cord. The Romanian man’s blood splattered all over the two brothers, Bill calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. After a few drags, he threw it on the ground.

The victorious Swedes were walking towards their cars when the butcher shop exploded behind them.

Alexander was immersed in a bath of ice, finally healing in his Swedish mansion after being kidnapped and tortured for days by Black Sheep’s people. Bill entered the bathroom holding a clean towel, a glass of water and a couple painkillers. He set everything down next to the bathtub and sat on the edge, adjacent to Alexander’s feet so he could face him.

“How are you feeling?”

Instead of responding, his older brother took the pills.

“I’ve been thinking about your plan to take over America but if you want to deal with Black Sheep first, I’d be more than happy to help you.”

“How many times have I told you not to get involved?” Alexander scolded.

“Alexander, I am ready.” Bill retorted. “I think I proved that today.”

“You’re not ready.”

“No? Who saved your fucking life then?”

Alexander stood up and wrapped the towel around his dripping body before getting out of the bathtub. Bill tried but it was hard to keep a straight face at the sight of the multiple bruises all over his brother’s body. Almost as hard as it was for Alexander to see Bill for the grown man he was; in his eyes, he’d always be just a kid and the baby brother he had to protect. Especially from the life of crime he had inherited from their father.

“Alexander, come on!” Bill complained. “I can do this. I’ve been going over it in my head and it’s the perfect plan to destroy Oscar’s cartel.”

“Bill, you’re asking me to let you infiltrate one of the most dangerous cartels out there. We’re not dealing with amateurs here. Oscar and his people have been in the business for a very long time.”

“Who could you possibly trust to get this done if not me then?” Bill asked. “Let me help. With this or… I don’t know. I can go after that Romanian prick, if you want.”

“Nej. (No.) ” Alexander said with a threatening glare. “Black Sheep är mitt. (Black Sheep is mine.)”

“Sedan ska jag till Amerika. (Then I’m going to America).”

 Amerika.

Bill’s voice resonated in Alexander’s head as he was pulled out of the past when he felt a hand on his left shoulder.

If only he had been more strict or inflexible, perhaps he wouldn’t be there staring at an open grave and his little brother’s casket in it with a shattered, grieving heart. The burial had come to an end and every attendee was leaving.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

Alexander tightened his jaw as soon as he recognized Jeremy’s deep voice, and he acknowledged his presence by lifting his head just a little but kept staring straight ahead.

“May God give you the peace you need.” He added.

When Jeremy removed his hand from Alexander’s shoulder, he finally spoke but with undertones of disgust.

“Your friends did this.”

“And I am sure you’ll make a wise decision on what to do next.”

Alexander could hear him walking away.

“Was it… wise… what you did after your wife was murdered?”

Jeremy froze in place, utterly taken aback by the audacity of his question.

“I heard it was like the Spanish inquisition in Ireland.” Alexander carried on.

“My wife did not infiltrate a cartel, Alexander.” Jeremy clarified while turning back around. “You and Bill played with fire and he paid the price. And if you so much as lay a finger on any of them, you’ll have to deal with me. So, I suggest you let this war stay cold.”

Without another word, Jeremy left, and Alexander clenched his right fist so hard his nails tore his skin and a couple drops of blood fell to the ground right where his little brother rested now.

The last drop of freshly brewed coffee fell in the waiting pot while I finished making breakfast wearing nothing but one of Oscar’s shirts.

I suddenly realized I was humming a song and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this happy. So many things had happened since Oscar walked into my life, especially in the last few months when Bill brought nothing but chaos with him. Something that I was sure had died with him. We hadn’t left the Greek house out of precaution for weeks and it was surrounded by the security team anyway; I felt lighter and safer than ever.

The car crash bruises had completely faded and some of them had been replaced by sex bruises, but I’d never complain about those. I bit my lower lip as my train of thought was interrupted by Oscar when he entered the kitchen and playfully spanked me as he walked past me and towards one of the cabinets. He was wearing light gray sweatpants, no shirt and only a gold chain around his neck.

I realized I had been staring for too long when the bacon started to burn.

“Shit…” I whispered as I turned off the stove.

He put two plates on the kitchen counter and peeked at the pan.

“You don’t have to cook.” He started scolding me. “I’ve told you a million times that we can hire a chef.”

“I thought you liked my cooking.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I love it.” He murmured while staring into my eyes. “But you don’t have to lift a finger around here. Not on my watch.”

For the first time in a long time, I had the closest thing to a normal life.

The fresh smell of his aftershave invaded my nostrils. This felt like the beginning of our relationship again, before I even knew about the dangerous life he led. I kissed him. And I walked backwards without letting go and until I hit the counter. Oscar knew what I wanted, so his hands traveled down my body and he hoisted me onto the surface. He broke the kiss only to gently put his hand around my throat, like he always did, and pulled me in again. I was breathless when I felt him getting hard.

The moment came to an abrupt and frustrating stop when we heard the front door and Pedro walked in, in his black shorts and white t-shirt. I got off the counter and noticed that he looked very uncomfortable. Oscar just scratched one of his eyebrows, trying to hide his annoyance while Pedro apologized.

“That’s fine.” Oscar said. “You should have breakfast with us.”

Each of the muscles in my back tensed up just like my situation with Pedro had ever since our last conversation. I had to sit through breakfast for over an hour, forcing smiles and pretending like nothing had happened between us. But I also realized that this too resembled the beginning of our affair; having breakfast together without a threat in the horizon, only this time, Oscar was there too.

Perhaps, that’s how it should’ve been from the start if we had respected the one line we weren’t supposed to cross.

Pedro’s eyes kept wandering and finding mine every now and then, as if he wanted to say something to me or deciding on whether he should or not. I had practically deafened myself to their conversation until I heard Oscar asking his friend to accompany him outside. He kissed the top of my head as he stood up.

Oscar and Pedro walked out into the balcony to enjoy a cup of coffee over a private conversation.

“A masquerade?” Pedro scoffed. “Really?”

“Hey, don’t mock Jeremy.” Oscar playfully reprehended as he took a sip of his coffee. “It’s an important birthday. Especially in a job like this.”

Pedro kept staring at the ocean but frowned as he came to a realization.

“Is he really the oldest drug dealer we know?”

Oscar nodded with an amused look on his face.

“What are you going to do when you turn 70, huh?” He teased.

“Turn into Hector Salamanca, probably?” Pedro chuckled.

“We could rule the nursing home, you and I.” Oscar joked. “Listen… I had a dream the other day. I had a kid, around 12 years old actually, and he got into a fight at school with this other fucking kid. Apparently, all the other dads were scared of me and told their children not to mess with mine so I was really pissed when my son showed up with a black eye. The other punk turned out to be your son. You and I had become estranged over the years but when we learned that our kids were fighting, we ended up reuniting and accepting this... sort of unavoidable fate, like we just could not get away from each other.” Oscar paused. “And we looked like the fucking Sopranos.”

For the first time in months, the two friends shared a laugh, and Pedro observed Oscar and noticed how it hadn’t been like that in a very long time. He seemed happy. They both did, except Oscar had something Pedro didn’t and he hated himself for even thinking about it. Pedro remembered how a little before the car crash, the business pressures were starting to take a toll on Oscar and he reached a new low when he suspected his girlfriend was cheating on him.

And along came Bill.

Pedro thought that maybe he had to thank his lucky stars for that. After all, balance seemed to have been restored now that he was gone and after the things he had done. But then Pedro also remembered how he had to shoot him in the eye so he’d keep his mouth shut. Now, as he realized how healthy and strong Oscar looked again, he cursed himself for missing his best friend’s girlfriend and having her in his arms.

“Anyway,” Oscar said, “We’ve been invited to the party but… I feel bad because we’ve been locked up in here for months and she has been such a good sport about everything, you know?” Oscar paused, staring at his coffee. “What do you think? I mean… it’s been a while. Do you think it’s safe to go?”

“To France?” Pedro sighed, pondering on the question. “Taking the necessary precautions, I don’t see why not.”

“And we are going to be wearing masks. We sure as fuck don’t go anywhere without our guns and, I’m sure Jeremy’s gonna have the whole place surrounded.” Oscar paused. “But I could take some of our guys as well.”

“Sounds good.” Pedro nodded.

“I haven’t told her anything yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first.” Oscar confessed. “I just… I want her to enjoy herself a little. She deserves it. We deserve it.” He paused. “And speaking of blowing off steam, you and the guys are going to have the house to yourselves this evening.”

I walked home hand in hand with Oscar after spending a romantic evening together.

We had dressed up for the occasion and he surprised me with a beautifully decorated party tent on our house’s private beach. Oscar made it clear that if we couldn’t go outside, then he’d bring whatever we needed here. It was our very own little restaurant with a chef, his cooks, a couple waiters and even a violinist to serenade us. After endless weeks of chaos, I could not remember the last time we had gone on a date.

We crossed the threshold and I immediately understood what Oscar meant when he told me he was going to let his guys blow off some steam and why he had arranged a completely different thing for us; the house was filled with cigarette smoke and the loud music coming from the living room was hurting my eardrums.

“Turn that shit down.” Oscar barked at one of them as we walked by.

The volume decreased. I lied to Oscar saying I would make tea and join him later, and I watched as he walked away. I couldn’t help but stare. Pedro was slouching in one of the couches, with a beer bottle in his right hand and a stupid smile on his face for the half-naked stripper giving him a lap dance. The rest of the security team was pretty much in the same situation in the background or playing poker. My stomach clenched. She put one knee between his open legs and I hated the way Pedro put his hands on her hips and how much he seemed to be enjoying it, and even flirting with her.

Fun was over the second he noticed me and his face fell. For the next five seconds, I had his whole attention and we just stared at each other until I rolled my eyes and headed for the bedroom. But then, I felt his fingers curling around my wrist right when I entered the hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed as I yanked my hand away and scowled at him.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t think so. You looked very busy just a second ago. Goodnight, Pedro.”

I tried to leave in vain. Pedro trapped me by putting both hands on the wall.

“I know you’re mad at me…” He began.

I nervously shot a glance in the bedroom’s direction. Pedro was being extremely careless.

“But you need to understand why I did what I did.” He added.

I could feel my blood starting to boil. I felt like screaming but I had to whisper instead.

“When did you start giving a fuck about what I think?” I asked. “I told you I loved you and you just left me.”

Pedro fixed his brown eyes on mine with what looked like a mixture of embarrassment and concern.

“Do you really think so little of me?”

He managed to sound so brokenhearted as if all of this was my fault.

“You think it’s easy for me seeing you with Oscar? Wishing I had met you first? Or wishing that I could at least… fucking hate him?” He paused and let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s my best friend.”

My heart was racing and a lump formed in my throat. Just when I thought I was starting to leave this behind, Pedro decided to do this. I was mortified. Someone could see us. Oscar could see us. And at the same time, we seemed to be the only two people in the world.

I had to be strong. I tried but my voice broke.

“Pedro, just let me go.”

He studied me carefully, every inch of my face and then he shook his head.

“That’s the thing, I…” He breathed out. “I can’t.”

He suddenly leaned in and crashed his lips against mine for a reckless kiss. He tasted like beer. I missed him and my knees weakened but my boyfriend was just two doors away and Pedro was way out of line. I had to pull away… and I slapped him.

“You’re drunk.” I accused between gritted teeth.

His mouth fell open when his chin almost reached his shoulder but then he scoffed and smirked, and I just had to walk away. I was so mad at him. More than words could ever describe. I glanced at him one more time and watched as he put his hands on his waist and looked at the floor seemingly amused and offended.  He had ended things. What exactly did he expect from me or what kind of game was he playing?

I was seeing red.

I walked into the bedroom to find Oscar sitting on the edge of the bed and removing his shoes. The second I kneeled in front of him on the floor, he wrapped his arms around me. I loosened his tie a little. His eyes darkened when I tugged on it to kiss him with more passion than I ever had before. It caught him off guard and he was a little out of breath when I pulled away. He stared at my mouth with a sort of lascivious fascination, and he lightly caressed my bottom lip with his fingertips.

I stared into his soul before making a plea in a whisper.

“Fuck me.”

He instantly pulled me up to meet his hungry lips again.

I could not believe we were finally leaving the Greek house.

I was very excited when Oscar told me about his friend Jeremy’s birthday party. We had only packed a couple of suitcases, and the helicopter that would take us to France was waiting outside. I entered our bedroom and opened the safe. It was weird to be looking at our gold guns again but that was the one condition Oscar had mentioned. We would attend but we could never be too careful.

A file folder fell down as I took the pistols out and a few papers were scattered on the floor. Shivers went down my spine when Bill seemed to be staring back at me in a photograph. I squatted down to pick everything up but I saw another picture. I was there the day Oscar received this from one of Jeremy’s men. He went through the file in his study but I knew it was best not to ask and left him to it.

It contained all the information about the Swedish cartel. I read between the lines and found myself staring at a photograph of Bill’s older brother, Alexander. His name rang a bell. Oscar and Pedro had mentioned him that day when they were sharing a beer on the beach, but I had been too distracted by all the other heartwarming things they said. I knew they feared the possibility of retaliation after Bill’s death, and that’s why we had been confined to this place for quite some time.

I just hadn’t put a face to that possibility.

But now, as I stared into Alexander’s dead blue eyes, I was suddenly unsure of leaving.

I heard footsteps getting closer so I put the folder back in the safe in a rush.

“Are you ready?” Oscar asked standing in the doorway.

He gave me a smile and it was contagious. If he and Pedro thought it was safe to go, I didn’t need to worry, did I? Or were we supposed to hide for the rest of our lives? That wasn’t like them, and after all, it was a masquerade party, which meant our identities would be safe behind the Venetian masks we had bought.

I took the guns and followed Oscar.

We would get on that damn helicopter and go enjoy ourselves.

The bellboy pushed the luggage cart as he led Oscar, his girlfriend, Pedro and two other men through the luxurious hotel lobby and into the elevator. He kept taking glances at them, forcing polite smiles. Once they reached the top floor, he opened the door to the suite Oscar and his girlfriend would be staying in, and as he grabbed their suitcases, he knocked over the white box on top; a couple of Venetian masks fell out and landed on the floor.

“Je suis très désolé. (I am very sorry)” He immediately apologized.

“It’s fine.” Oscar’s girlfriend said with a friendly smile.

Oscar gave him a generous tip and he walked out the door.

As soon as he found himself in the lobby again, he moved towards the old phone booths and dialed a number. The second someone picked up, the bellboy uttered three words.

“De är här. (They are here).”

The butler hung up the phone.

He exited the mansion and crossed the garden to enter the cold, big, white room.

A shotgun went off and echoed inside the shooting range. It was Alexander’s new favorite place to be and where he spent most of his days since his brother’s death. He cocked the shotgun, ready to fire at another target when the butler walked in and stood next to him.

“Sir, I just got a very interesting phone call”. The man announced.

Alexander fired his shotgun one more time and waited for him to elaborate.

“They’ve checked into a hotel in France.”

Alexander slightly lowered his weapon with furrowed eyebrows.

“France.” He echoed.

“Our informant says they won’t be staying very long, and he saw something that might interest you.”

Alexander quirked an expectant eyebrow.

“Venetian masks, sir.”

Alexander stared at the butler briefly before a condescending smile spread across his face. This was the moment he had been waiting for. This was why he had his people scattered all over the world; to have eyes and ears in every nook and cranny, hoping for his enemies to make one single mistake. Just like Bill had before they found him. 

“They’re attending Jeremy’s party.” Alexander realized but then he turned serious as he began to experience an epiphany. “When you say ‘they’...?”

“I mean the leader of the cartel, his friend, and the girl, sir.”

The curiosity made Alexander’s eyes darken.

“Så, horan lever också... (So, the whore lives too...)” He muttered under his breath.

“Will we be… inviting ourselves, sir?” The butler inquired.

As Alexander cocked the shotgun and aimed again, he thought about his little brother and his untimely and gruesome death, but Jeremy’s voice and their little passive-aggressive exchange at the funeral resonated in his head like a warning.

“I’m sure you’ll make a wise decision on what to do next.”

Alexander tightened his jaw with a death glare and almost palpable frustration.

He fired for the third time, and watched as the bullet destroyed the target.

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

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