#a woman is more dangerous than a loaded pistol.

[violentcurse]

it is not uncommon for any of them to stay late at night in the office, but it is rarer for hotchner or rossi to be absent while it happens. however, next monday is beth's birthday, and the team graciously offered to take care of this week's reports for hotch so that he could get away with his son and new girlfriend. as for rossi, it was decided that he would finally take his six days off in order to do whatever it is he does in his free time (write more books, probably). then, one by one, as dominos making each other fall, the rest of the team decided to get away as well, finishing their work in haste and leaving the rest for the younger ones who had no plans at all. it was becoming rarer and rarer for the workload to be low enough that they could step away from the office more than the minimal number of hours required for sleep, so they all wanted to take advantage of it. penelope and derek are currently in london, visiting emily. blake apparently had lose ties to take care off.

which leaves us with the golden trio : juno, spencer and ishtar.

the last paper to be written is ishtar's, because she spent most of the last hour thinking of silly rhymes for jack's birthday poem instead of actually writing her report. the kid is cute enough that ishtar will probably get him a toy too, but she wouldn't be herself if she didn't join a badly written handnote. she suspects juno is only staying because she is actually waiting for her, while spencer is most likely pretending to work because he refuses to be the first one to leave. wouldn't be the first time, and considering the way his eyes have barely moved across the screen, she knows he is not reading at all.

a sigh & a stretch of her arms above her head signal to the rest of the group that she is fully done, but instead of getting up to leave, she simply pivots in her chair to look at spencer, who takes a minute too late to raise his gaze and look back at her. it is obvious that whatever she is about to say is going to annoy him, for ishtar's most nonchalant grin welcomes him, soon followed by words, "darlin' doctor. truth or dare?" to which he scoffs, both at the term of endearment and the game. spencer has never been a big fan of ishtar, or rather, he has never wanted to appear to be one. the first time they met, he felt the hot scorching sensation of jealousy against the back of his neck : thank god rossi brought her & not gideon, or he would have felt completely replaced. after a few days, annoyance became the main feeling she evoked in him : how could anyone think she was of use? he saw her on cases, fingers testing for dust, moving furniture around, always looking for clues in places that would give none. and then, understanding dawned. he saw her in her "interrogation mode", which is just an expression they like to pass around because ishtar completely metamorphoses the second she steps into the metallic room. whoever is behind that one-way glass window has nothing to do with the odd kid they know. she's ruthless in her control of her image. whatever it is that the unsub desires or despises, she becomes with ease. answers, both silent & spoken, are grabbed with swift precision. the first time she came out of the room, rossi had a proud grin while the rest of the team stood there, mouths agape, as if they truly suspected she had been recruited because of her address book rather than actual talent.

sometimes, ishtar thinks reid wants her more than he is willing to want her, and that is why he fights her on absolutely everything. but that's no issue at all : as long as he comes home with juno & her at the end of the day, ishtar is willing to play the cat to his dog. she'll even meow if it gets him going.

after a moment of strong silence, meaning spencer is deliberately pretending she doesn't exist, she pivots some more to look at juno. her gaze is a bit more forgiving when she demands : "what 'bout ya, june dear, truth or dare? doc ain't no fun." she says it with a pout, completely heartbroken that her game has been faced with such rebuttal. in truth, reid's reply was more than expected, just like juno's is. after all, ishtar knows them well. @suarcz, @idi0tproverbs

[bunny-jpeg]

some women don't want the bear

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, predator/prey, cnc, roleplay/fantasy, forest sex, messy sex, unprotected sex, after care, gunplay, degrading language, dirty talk, (partially) clothed sex, pussy slapping, filth (!!!)

bunny says! reblogs, tags & comments feed the rabbit!

you never really thought about scotland having forests. you always imagined the rolling plains and large cows. not dense forests as you hastily ran pass trees and tried not to trip over roots.

your heart was racing, your breathing ragged. you needed to get away from the man in the woods. he had found you cabin for the week and had tried to get his way inside. the only way for you was out the door and into the forests before he could harm you.

"shit, shit, shit." you panted as you tried to get further into the forest, only getting more lost. you felt panic all of as you ended up in a clearing.

you wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear you. you were a lost little thing, all alone in the woods with a big scary man. a man who wanted to take you apart.

your knees felt weak as you looked around, the afternoon light shined through the thick foliage of the trees. you eventually crumbled to your knees like a dying deer when you heard the snap of a twig nearby. you quivered and whimpered when the heavy footsteps came closer.

you felt yourself be yanked by the hair and forced to look up at the man in front of you. you bottom lip wobbled, "please don't kill me, sir."

he chuckled and tapped his pistol to your nose, "cute. i don't like 'em dead, bonnie. i like 'em when they struggle." then pressed the gun to your lips, "c'mon. be a good little whore and suck. or i'll find another way to get this thing wet." his eyes cast down to your lap.

you carefully licked the gun and the intruders eyes were on you. his blue eyes gleamed like sapphires, full of danger. you never got his name as you continued to suck off his gun.

you prayed it wasn't loaded.

"pretty girl for me." he said, "bet you're popular with the boys at uni." he laughed before he used his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair, "don't worry about that. once i get my seed planted in ya, you'll be too tired to think about other boys while you're chasin' my boys around." he pinched your cheek, "hard to finish school when you're nursing one babe and pregnant with another." he chuckled.

you hated how hot it felt. it flooded your core and made your face hot all over. your heart raced as you continued to lick the weapon.

his words kept coming, "you, me and our little mission to repopulate that big cabin you were staying in. you were tempting me with that, one woman doesn't need that many rooms. you were hoping i'd come and give you an excuse to fill 'em up. better i come and seed that little cunt of yours before a big bear or something comes and does it instead.' he laughed at the improbability of that.

you looked up at him, your eyes gleamed in the afternoon light and it made the intruder's cock twitch in his pants. he patted your cheek a little harder than you liked before he wanted you to have the real thing.

he tossed the weapon to the side and pushed you down onto your back. he got on top of you and he could feel the heat of your core through those thin tights. he didn't give it much time before he ripped the cheap fabric at the crotch, followed by your panties ending up in tatters too at the seam.

"good hold you got there, bonnie." he purred, "a nice tight little cunt that i'm gonna enjoy ruining." he chuckled as he sank two thick fingers into your sweet puffy hole. he sank in like a hot knife cut butter, "oh, someone's a little whore, huh? do you let all the big scary men of the forest fuck you? or am i just special." he smiled with all teeth and you felt wetness grow between your legs.

he crowded your space, his weight on top of you kept your pinned. you weren't as strong or as big as him. he was muscular with a mohawk and a tattoo. you could already feel his length pressing against you through his jeans.

he was going to split you in half with that thing!

"ya want it, bonnie? do you want me to fuck you raw. ruin you for any other man so much so that another man could even breed you. get that pretty cunt addicted to my cum." he patted your pussy before he sank his fingers back into you, now using his thumb to play with your clit.

you sent electricity through you, you tried to find some support from the forest floor to get yourself out from under him. but there was no escaping him. you were going to be bred by this monster.

you wanted to hit him, but he was a bulk of solid muscle. you would break your hands before you made any dent in him. you laid there and kicked out your legs but you were pinned under him.

he took his fingers out of your slick pussy and licked your wetness off of them letting out a soft moan, you tasted so good. he said, "a wife's gotta taste good, even when heavy with bairn." then placed a broad hand on your stomach as he got his cock out of his blue jeans.

the birds chirped and the sun beamed down on you as you laid in the mess of leaves and twigs. you could feel the man's heavy gaze on you. you swallowed at the sight of his cock, it was thick. you swore his balls were heavy, ready for breeding.

he kept his hand on you as he guided his cock into your sweet, slick pussy. he groaned a little bit as he pushed into you. your pussy felt so good enough his cock.

he chuckled, "where have you been all my life?" his pace skipped pleasantries and soon he was bullying it deep into your womb, "a pretty little thing to breed and keep. you, me and a bunch of babies." he was so large compared to you, you couldn't fight him off. he looked like a military man, even if you could get out from under him, he would stalk you through the forest. he groaned, "you're so good for me, lettin' me use that sweet cunt of yours. i'll keep this little cunt." he patted it before he gave it a firm slap.

you panted and squirmed under him, a fruitless attempt as he fucked you with a fury that you couldn't find words for. his cock felt like it was in the back of your throat.

the harshness of his thrusts made your head spin as you gripped onto him and tried to get him off of you. but he wasn't going anywhere, he was too busy having his cock into you. he wasn't going anywhere until he was finished with you.

you were his now.

regardless the pleasure coursed through you and the pace made you hot all over. the feeling was overwhelming and you knew you wouldn't last long. you panted and moaned, your entire body was burning from the intense pleasure.

"please." you whimpered.

"what?" he asked, curious what you had to say.

"please don't kill me." you whimpered.

"no, no.. shh, shh. no way." he said, his voice overly sweet, "i would never. now c'mon, bonnie. cum for your husband." as he continued to thrust up against you cunt.

you then gripped onto the forest floor as best as you could and arched your back. you then climaxed. you felt your body betray you as your pussy clenched around him as you it all became too much. you felt like an animal being bred in the forest. "fuck." you gasped.

"so good. fuck, i'm gonna ruin that little pussy. don't worry, bonnie.

he spurted inside of you with a heavy grunt before he slowed to a stop. his heart hammered in his chest as he admired the sight of you. he gave you pussy a firm slap before he pulled out.

"good girl." and after that, the little roleplay ended. and the man you loved came back. he got you in his arms as he kissed at your face, you were still in a state of bliss as your orgasm still came through you.

johnny then picked the twigs out of your hair, he got his jacket around your shoulders. he may have gone a little over kill with ripping your leggings and panties. but you were safe with him now.

"did you like that?" he asked as he rubbed your shoulders before he helped you onto your shaky legs. he'd carry you if he had to, that what was what a husband did for his wife.

even if she wanted to have crazy, kinky forest sex during their honeymoon. but he'd have to admit, it did excite him too. using those skills of his to good use. so before he picked you up and brought you back to the cabin for some nice tea and food, he waited to give him a response.

you looked up at him, as if your cheek was scraped from the debris on the forest floor. your eyes gleamed, almost excitingly as you said, "can we do that again sometime?" <3

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (08)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: Teen (series will be explicit) Words: 1.7k Summary: Where'd you learn to shoot like that?

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Three days go by and the Ghoul still hasn’t figured out what the fuck’s he’s going to do. He’s managed to redirect them to a farmstead that’s been abandoned for a good decade already. It was a decent enough place to hole up for the night, and kept them from heading straight toward her goal. Kept them closer to the stateline than not.

He needs to just fucking do it.

He knows her now, knows how she walks, how she thinks. She probably wouldn’t try to fight him when he finally told her about the bounty. More likely she would just deflate, that same sad look settling on her face as when they’d found a dead songbird on the path.

She’d still eaten it, but she’d nearly cried.

Something in him recoiled at the idea of putting that look on her.

Not like it mattered much. They had supplies enough, thanks to her haggling, and he wasn’t in a rush to move on to the next thing. The price on her head would set him for a while - his feet would start itching long before he needed to meet his needs

So what was the difference in spending a bit more time with someone who didn’t flinch every time they looked at him? Someone who teased him and acted like they were out for a Sunday stroll every damn day even with the rad roaches and the mole rats. Someone who, occasionally, made him remember the man he used to be.

It was fucking dangerous is what it was.

The man he was couldn’t survive in the wasteland. That man had a sense of honor, of right and wrong, that would abso-fucking-lutely get him killed. 

Get them killed.

Because she was soft cotton and flower petals wrapped in a pretty sun dress and without him she would have been dead a thousand times over by now, he just knew it. Someone had to make those choices, shoot a man in the face, to keep them both alive.

“You need to learn how to shoot.”

She turns to look at him as he says it, carefully clambering over a rocky outcropping. “I do?”

“If you plan to survive out here you need to know how to protect yourself.”

“And you think that means learning how to shoot?”

He grunts and quickens his pace so he can pass her, scanning the area until he sees what he’s looking for - a small ridge line with darker colored rocks buried in the sand about fifty yards away. He catches her by the waist as she tries to go past, spinning her until she’s directly in front of him and they’re both facing it.

“First rule is don’t ever point this thing at me,” he tells her, pulling his pistol and settling it into her hand.

“I thought the first rule is treat every gun like it’s loaded?”

“That’s the second rule.”

She chuckles and he feels it all the way down his spine. He shouldn’t be standing so close to her but he’d be lying if it wasn’t half the reason he’d decided to start this little impromptu lesson. Pulling his gloves off he tucks them into his belt.

“This one’s got a bit of kick so you should hold it with both hands.” He takes her left wrist and lifts her arm, wrapping her fingers around the hilt alongside the other. It’s exactly like a dozen movies he was in a lifetime ago, holding a woman in his arms while he showed them how to do some mundane task. 

They almost always ended in a kiss.

Gulping, he leans over her shoulder. “See that green rock over yonder? See if you can’t-”

The rock shatters.

The Ghoul blinks in the hazy smoke, staring at the hill. When he turns back she’s got her head tilted up to his, their faces inches apart. “The black with a white stripe next?” she asks before adjusting and pulling the trigger. The damn woman never even looks away from him, the rock she identified spinning down the hill in a cloud of dust.

“Did I hit it?”

“Did you-” Stepping away he takes his hat off, squinting at the ridgeline. “Why the fuck am I the one doing all the shooting?”

Grinning, you pass the gun back, carefully pointing the barrel down. “I don’t have a pistol.”

“Why the hell didn’t you buy yourself one?”

“If you spend too much money in one spot people get greedy. We were pretty much maxed out on survival gear.”

And she’d bought him chem instead. He gapes at her, trying to figure her out. Everyone had an angle, everyone was in it for themself. He’d known that for centuries now. And yet she still managed to surprise him.

Even more so when she nudges his shoulder companionably with her own. “Don’t be mad, I’ve had years of practice.”

He stares at her face, untouched by time and a fierce counterpoint to his own. His curious fascination shifts into a grudging respect. Where before he had found her interesting, an anomaly, knowing that she could take care of herself if it came to it made his body light the fuck up. She’s close enough he only has to shift slightly for them to be standing toe to toe - barely a breath between them.

Smooth skin is cool under his palm, her neck arching just so into the curve of his hand. It’s too intense, he can feel it, heat thrumming between them. And it’s not just him - her eyes are glazed, her breath suddenly coming in rapid pants. Not a kiss, a kiss would be too much, too much for her to handle his face and mouth that close.

No, he wants a taste instead. Of all his sense only taste remains as sharp as it once was - undiluted by the effects of time and radiation.

There’s no resistance when he tilts her head to the side, ducking down to run his tongue along the exposed skin. He doesn’t imagine the way she shudders, or that her pulse leaps beneath his lips.

He could bite her, gnaw the life out of her bones.

With a low groan he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her skin. His head is full of her scent, her body pulled flush to his own. Fuck his missing nose and ruined face, if he can’t taste the inside of her mouth right now he might just collapse right here in the dirt.

Nibbling his way back up her neck, he rubs his lips against her skin, nipping at her chin before swooping in to take her mouth. To tangle their tongues together and feel her moan how much she wants him all the way to his cock.

It’s a bucket of ice water when she jerks away, shoving against his chest and sending him stumbling a step backwards.

“No.”

Hunger nearly overwhelms him, hazy redness creeping at the edge of his vision. It’s not the Turning, not quite, but something rawer and deeper. He wants to throw her to the ground and rut against her - flip her to her knees and…

A quick jerk of his head and he comes back to himself. She’s a few feet away, chest heaving. There’s a red mark on her neck and he feels a rush of pleasure that he left it there. She looks a bit unsteady herself and he takes a gamble.

“I’ve been told a fair few times that no means no - but it seems to me there might be a bit of room for interpretation here.”

“No kissing,” she blurts out, seeming stunned by her own words.

“Anywhere?” He cocks his head, hooking his thumbs into his belt, “That takes a bit of the fun out of things, don’t you think?”

A hand flies up to cover her mouth and she lets out a strained laugh. It breaks the mood - whatever it was - between them, and he sighs as he steps further away from her.

“We’re gonna lose a crop we keep on like this, you ready?”

She doesn’t point out that he’s the one who called for the stop, nor does she mention that it was his actions that caused the delay. She keeps pace near him, not saying a word and he doesn’t bother to fill the silence.

Had he read her wrong? Her pulse had thrummed like a hummingbird under his hand but that could as easily have been fear. Maybe she had been terrified of him, too scared to stop him. He hadn’t tried to fuck anyone in over a hundred years - hell his cock hardly worked half the time these days. Maybe he’d fucked up.

Shit.

So much for his thoughts of having a bit of fun before turning her over. 

It was too bad, she was pretty and tasted like cool spring water and spun sugar. It was enough to make his mouth water. And she looked at him like he was still a man, not a monster. Then again, he’d been a hell of a lot nicer to her than he’d been to most people the last few years. Maybe everyone was as sweet if he was just a little kinder to them.

Sure, and he’d wake up tomorrow to find he was hairier than a yeti’s ass.

He pauses, staring at the horizon. The sun would set in about an hour and there weren’t nothing he could think of nearby to make camp at. Maybe a bit of fallen overpass? He’d take second watch and tie her up while she slept. Then he could explain things nice and easy in the morning and quit this stupid ass farce they were engaged in.

“The mouth.”

It was the first words she’d said in hours and he glanced her way with a scowl. “What was that?”

She won’t meet his eyes, looking pointedly away from him. “You asked, and I’m answering.”

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up. He just couldn’t kiss her on the mouth, that’s what she was telling him.

Well hell, he could work with that.

☢ ☢ ☢

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[square-pancake]

Have a Nice Trip (1 of…)

Intro chapter- Jason Todd’s return to Gotham starts a bit differently.

There were maniacs on the loose and Detective Bullock had already cleaned and loaded his gun. He probably wouldn’t get to use it; he wasn’t that lucky and Gotham was too cursed for an average policeman to get to take out a serious threat.

Bullock twitched as he tried to settle more comfortably into the patrol car seat: Arkham breakouts were always a mess. Gordon’s directive to spread the experienced detectives across the city to expedite rapid responses made sense, but it didn’t make the seat any more comfortable.

Freeze had been one of the escapees this time and the snowflakes swirling in the in the wind just reminded Bullock the misery would continue until he was brought to ground. He diligently refrained from dwelling on the manic laughter that accompanied the most dangerous of the escapees.

As he focused on the best way to balance heating the car with conserving gas, he was startled to see someone waving him down through the swirling of the snowflakes.

Gotham residents took cover during Arkham breakouts. So this figure- Man? Tall woman? Humanoid bat? Impossible to say for sure - waving him down was particularly unusual. Bundled up against the cold, the figure was bulky either from body type or clothing. Tall, no hair visible under a red hoodie, a brown leather coat layered over the sweatshirt.

Cautiously, Bullock opened the door and stood from the car. His hand lightly resting on the butt of his gun, Bullock carefully approached. Once Bullock had exited the vehicle, the person had slumped against a brick wall, waiting. To the detective’s relief, hands were clearly visible and empty. In this city the gloves themselves might be hiding danger, but those looked simply to be a wise precaution against the cold.

Wary of the potential threat, Bullock walked closer. He could see more details now. Young, with traces of baby fat still softening his face, dressed for the weather but not as though he had planned to linger outside. Ethnically ambiguous, skin on the paler side of the spectrum, but difficult to narrow down further.

The boy, because he had to be a teenager, maybe twenty at most, was breathing in deep, gasping breaths. There was a pattern to the breathing, possibly a technique to control his emotions Bullock speculated internally.

The kid leaned against the brick, but other than trying to keep Bullock in his peripheral vision, he remained focused on peering around the corner without losing cover. Something or someone deeper in the alley kept his attention.

It was barely 2:00 PM, yet the opening of the alley loomed in the way only Gotham architecture allowed.

Since this was Gotham with rogues on the loose, the kid probably wanted to get the hell out of dodge and into shelter. For him to stick around and even wave down a cop, this was either a trap or the kid had witnessed something big.

As he closed the gap, Bullock pinged on his handheld radio twice to indicate he was out of the patrol car and checking on something. If this was a plan to kidnap a cop, at least the kidnappers would only have a 5 minute head start before dispatch demanded an update and noticed Bullock was missing.

“Hey buddy, everything okay?”

A juddering sigh responded, and then a slight jerking nod of the hooded head towards the alley.

Bullocks hand tensed slightly where it still rested on his pistol.

“Is there something that you wanted to tell me?” he prompted.

Again, a jerky nod, but this time the man also gestured to the alley, a hoarse whisper adding “He grabbed me and I pushed him, but he didn’t get up and I, it’s shit,” A half hysterical bark of laughter leaked out, “I think it might be some sort of trick, but I don’t think he’s moved since he fell.”

Softly, the boy whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

Bullock weighed his options. He didn’t particularly want to enter the alley with an unknown at his back. A traumatized kiddie could be a danger even without malicious intent. Putting cuffs on the kid would not help calm him down, and pushing somebody who grabbed you was not an arrestable offense anyway.

After a moment’s thought, Bullock flipped on his radio. “Bullock two blocks south of the Bowery library, can I get a ambo? Report of a fall on the street with possible injuries. Low priority right now.”

“Copy Bullock. We have some paramedics finishing up nearby. ETA 15 minutes.”

He met the kid’s green eyes as best he could - the teen was still clearly focused more on where he left his assailant than he was on Bullock.

“Are you gonna be okay while I check out what’s in the alley?”

Again the jerky nod. This time the rough brick caught the hood and pulled it away from the kid’s face. Dark curls were visible for the first time, a bleached lock hung limply against his forehead.

Distinctive feature, Bullock noted absently.

The kid pulled back to give him room to maneuver towards the alley while keeping cover. His hands still visible and staying out of reach, it was about as cooperative and non-threatening as Bullock could get from a Gothamite in a tense situation.

Trusting his gut, Bullock approached, his shoulder lightly touching the brick. This time with his gun drawn, held at waist level, and pointed towards the ground, he carefully edged around the corner.

A figure clad in bright purple was crumpled face-down in the grimy slush of the alley. Straggly green hair clearly visible. Fuck.

Bullock flipped the radio on again. “Bullock here, up the urgency for that ambo request. High priority. 2 minute check-in”.

Absently acknowledging the dispatcher, Bullock steadily pointed his gun at the downed figure, and moved closer. It was either the Joke or a decoy. No one else would be dressed like that during an Arkham breakout.

Bullock nudged the closest leg with his foot. The body resisted like dead weight.

It was too awkward to pull on a latex glove while keeping his gun trained, but Bullock would be damned before he tried to touch what could be the Joker with his good gloves.

Instead he pulled a disposable glove from his pocket and dropped it on the head that still laid silently in the muddy snow. Some rocky debris cradled the head like the world’s worst pillow. A spattering of blood near the head, but not much. Maybe a broken nose or scrapes from when the clown face planted.

No movement. Bullock reached down, and using the glove as a barrier, gently prodded the body.

The neck hung loosely, and no breathing was evident. Pulling his leather glove off with his teeth, Bullock kept his gun ready.

With bare fingers, he shifted the loose glove to the white-painted neck and felt for a pulse. His gun held steady; it would have been cathartic to shoot.

The silence and stillness was shocking in the garish corpse. This was hardly the first body Bullock had encountered- homicide detectives in Gotham never depended on theoretical knowledge.

But, it looked like the Joker. The suit was right. The body was right. The visible makeup was right. Mooks hired by various rogues might mimic the look of their bosses or otherwise lean in on the theme, but the Joker didn’t go for straight body-doubles.

Straightening, Bullock left the examination glove on the body for the forensic techs and slowly holstered his gun. Spitting his leather glove into his right hand, he then pulled out a small bottle of sanitizer and slowly rubbed the fingers of his one bare hand together as he thought.

Absently, Bullock checked in and confirmed the need for an ambulance. “I think Gordon should plan on coming down here too. Get confirmation from the EMTs just in case I’m compromised.”

After he clicked off the radio, Bullock began to piece the scene together. Kid walked down the alley. The clown followed, or was lurking behind one of the dumpsters.

The Joker grabbed the kid. The kid - young, strong, tall, had pushed the man away. The combination of icy streets and rocky debris meant the attacker took a hard fall. No time to regain his balance.

Minimal bleeding evident, and no smearing of the white makeup indicating there had been an extended fight. The kid had no obvious blood or marks on him. So the Joker startled a would-be victim, and in a bout of karmic irony, he had fallen and broken his neck in the fall.

Bullock stepped back and carefully brushed away any signs that might have been left by the kid waiting outside the alley. Only his own footprints were visible, even the clown’s being unidentifiable scuffs in the wet slush. Bullock backed away from the body, and still keeping his eye on it, just in case, he retreate to the corner next to the kid.

“Is it him?” The kid’s voice was stronger now.

“It sure as hell looks like it.”

“Mother fucker, my first day home in years and this is what happens? What the actual fuck, Gotham?”

In spite of himself, Bullock snorted. “Seems pretty on brand, really, don’t you think?”

“What a fuckin��� mess,” the kid muttered.

He was right.

The Joker dead at the hands of a cop in defense of themselves or another victim would have been a heady victory over the stupid costumed antics that disrupted the city. Sure the cop would probably be killed by either the Joker’s men or another rogue, but Bullock couldn’t think of a single colleague worth a damn who wouldn’t take the shot.

The Joker dead at the hands of a random pedestrian was almost certainly going to be a nightmare. The kid would be subjected to interrogation by the Bats, especially with Batman’s bizarre obsession with his nemesis, and no kid deserved to get in the middle of that. Plus, even protective custody might not be enough to keep him alive long-term.

Bullock knew he was many things. A decent cop, a lover of dark beer and cheap cigarettes, and a petty son-of-a-bitch. So he had already decided what way he wanted to leap.

He hoped the kid would agree.

Because the Joker dead from an ignominious fall in a filthy alley was the kind of pathetic ending the man deserved.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. What I understand what happened - you were walking along, you’re looking for shelter. You heard the alert so you’ve got your eyes peeled. You see a body in the alley. You’re not stupid. You saw the purple, you saw a cop car, and you waved me down.”

“You’ve done your civic duty- you’re not going to go try to check on what might be the Joker or one of his stupid traps. No one would expect you to.” Bullock paused and pulled out the sanitizer, eyes still not leaving the body- “rub this anywhere he might have touched you, kid, just in case.“

After the kid accepted and began to rub it into his still gloved hands and shoulder, Bullock continued. “You have no idea what else happened. When the ambulance comes, after a quick check-up, you booked it because you’re a Gotham kid and you don’t wanna be around this shit show.”

A sharp inhaled breath and a moment of silence. “So I heard the Joker sucked so much as a clown, he tried to do a prat fall and fucked it up so badly he killed himself.”

“Damn kid, I’m going to remember that and use it.” Clearly this kid understood the pettiness that lived in Bullock’s soul.

The snow continued to fall on the still body.

More seriously, “some unknown kid offing the Joker isn’t gonna survive a week in the city. Doesn’t matter that was an accident, doesn’t matter anything else. But the Joker dying in an accident on his own with no witnesses, well nobody can really be blamed for that. You see me?”

It wouldn’t be the truth, but it would be far more just than letting this kid be sacrificed.

“Cameras?” The kid asked hesitantly.

Bullock wasn’t sure if the kid had already clocked the lack of cameras in this area, so he indulged the question. “No working cameras. I was stationed here because Two-Face’s showdown last week included taking out the cameras around here. They’ve not been replaced yet- lower priority compared to other areas. This is the Bowery.”

At the silent nod in his peripheral vision, Bullock asked, “what should I call you? Just me, not for any report. I’m Detective Harvey Bullock.”

“You can call me Jay, detective.”

Good instincts, no last name and a nickname that might not be related to his real name at all. Bullock hoped he never saw the kid again after this. Let the kid get as much peace as the city could offer.

The body still hadn’t moved.

It didn’t move when the ambulance arrived. It didn’t move after the kid - Jay- ghosted into the breeze. It didn’t move when the forensics squad arrived. It didn’t move when the commissioner unzipped the body bag to look at the Joker’s dead face. Joker’s skin was always pale from makeup, and Gordon was one of many who donned gloves to feel for the absent pulse. To be sure.

By the time Batman showed up, any traces had been muddled entirely

[lucasxholt]

Wild West AU

Lucas "Luke" Holt| 48| Cattle/Horse Rancher|

Luke was born in the big city with his younger brother Matthew. He started working at a young age as a waiter and cigar roller at a private men's club where he eventually befriended an old oil tycoon. When the man died, he left a small part of his large fortune to Luke who eventually used it to buy up some land and move out of the city.

Luke, the new rancher making a name for himself in town, became infatuated with a milkmaid from a neighboring farm, Emily. The two were quickly wed, much to her father's reservations. The lovebirds did not take long to start their family, having four children. Their son Gabriel was their eldest, followed by their son Louis, and two daughters Amelia and Charlotte, often called "Charlie."

Over the years Holt Ranch became quite a success. Even shoveling stables every day, Luke was happier than he had ever been in the big city. He had the woman of his dreams, the career of his dreams, and now the family of his dreams. Even though times have gotten a bit harder with much of the town cleared out, he still found ways to make ends meet for the Holts and his staff. He also managed to keep his best friend on his payroll , the local shoer/animal doctor Ayumu. The two became unlikely friends over the years working together, and now Luke trusts him with his life.

While coming back from town one evening after selling some goods from the farm, Emily and a neighbor's wife were attacked. Thankfully for Luke, his hounds had picked up the sound while out in the pasture and he raced to the danger. Sadly, he was too late to save his neighbor's wife, but whatever had attacked them had done a number on his wife. He'd told his sons to fetch the doctor from town while he raced her home, doing his best to stop the bleeding. They were able to get her stable, but Emily was left in a near comatose state. His daughters were assigned to look after their mother, while the boys handled the ranch.

The usually easy-going Luke has become a much colder, more distant version of himself since the attack on his wife. He's constantly on edge, sharper with his children, and usually harboring a flask in his riding leathers. He's tense about the idea of these murders, pistols always loaded and at his side if anyone tries to come for his family again.

[evolvingchaoswitch]

Rocketober: Day 4 Wanted

This was the dumbest idea that Rocket had ever gotten in his head, going through some cave system in one of the more tropical areas of Terra the Caribbean. He just really wanted to get Quill something amazing for his birthday before he started to feel out whether or not he could start begging his friend to come back. Rocket loved his crew and what he did as a Guardian but he missed Pete the big man child just understood him in a way others couldn’t; Rocket really wanted his friend back. So here he was investigating an old legend that Peter was obsessed over, about an old immortal pirate by the name of Captain Mar.

If Pete’s rambling was to be believed this Captain Mar had been around for hundreds of years, sailing the seas, fighting otherworldly monsters while fighting for the safety of all the dwelled on Terra. Sounded like an absolute load of crock shit to Rocket but here he was looking for the old legends treasures to grab something for Pete, this location at least had some truth to it in terms of treasure. There had been multiple accounts of people going through this cave and coming back with something interesting in hand after; some had even claimed to have a conversation with the Captain herself bunch of nutters. Rocket took a break to lean against one of the cave walls when he felt it start to start to sink down before he found himself sliding down a stone slide to another section of the cave system.

“FLARK!!!”

Rocket tumbled into a pile of luxurious fabric at the bottom of whatever pit he managed to stumble in, grateful for the soft landing opposed to what he was used to. Rocket took a moment to adjust to the surprising amount of light that littered this section of the cave, which was unusual as this part of the cave had to be deeper than where he was before, he slid downwards after all. Rocket's eyes roamed over the content of the cave that was covered in all matter of paraphernalia from different era’s of Terra’s history, glittering treasure sparkling across the cave floor and there it was the perfect gift for Pete, a portrait of Captain Mar surrounded by topless fish ladies. Pete was going to flarking love this!

Rocket was lifting up the portrait to put into his bag when he felt the cold metal of a gun to the back of his head, how did he not hear someone sneak up on him? 

“Wot de we hav ere luv” The voice behind him was clearly feminine in nature but had this delightfully rasp to it that Rocket found himself swooning over. He had never heard a voice like that before.

“Just a guy trying to grab a nice thing for his friend's birthday” Rocket hoped that appeased the mystery womens query. He felt himself be turned around to face the person he was speaking to, and couldn’t help but blurt out,

“Wait, aren't you a myth?”

Rocket’s head swiveled to look at the portrait before looking back at the woman to confirm it was the same damn person, Captain Mar herself and flarkin hell did she look better in person.

“So some say, but yet ere I am, now wot to do with ye?” Rocket was concerned with the smile that spread over the pirate's face as she looked down at him with a playful mirth in her eyes. He knew that he could disarm her especially using such old tech but something kept him rooted in place like he was in the presence of a dangerous force of nature. Rocket breathed a sigh of relief when Mar placed her pistol back into their holsters and reached within their jacket to pull out a flask before taking a swig. 

Captain Mar made a motion for Rocket to sit next to her, offering the flask to him as he plopped down beside her. Rocket could feel a calmness wash over his body as the liquid slid down his throat, it was finely aged rum far nicer than anything he had before.

“Tell me ah story” 

The soft rasp of Mar’s voice broke the staring spell that he had been trapped in, he couldn’t wait to tell Pete that Mar was real and even hotter in person. Rocket’s ears twitched slightly as his mind processed the request ,what it meant before letting out a deep sigh and proceeded to spill his guts out to the alleged immortal. The Captain didn’t say a word as he trauma dumped as Quill would put it, instead watched him and didn’t interrupt till he was done, offering the last bit of the flask. He was surprised to feel himself being pulled into a hug as he finished the flask, the scent of seawater clung to Mar’s clothes like an extension of their spirit and Rocket found it oddly soothing.

“Ye can ave the portrait, fer yer friend” 

No fight from the Captain over the portrait she was just giving them something for nothing.

“I’m not comfortable with rando’s giving me gifts even if I really want it, so waddayeah want?”

Captain Mars eyes leered over him “Aye suppose yer body will mor than do”

Rocket smiled at his turn of fortune this day “I can work with that”

In the end Peter and Rocket both got something they wanted but did not expect to get, Peter got some of Captain Mar’s pirate booty and Rocket got Mar’s Pirate Bootahy. (Captain Mar is an OC that is an immortal Pirate cursed to live till Calypso's curse lifts) @raccoonfallsharder @rebel-21 @glow-autumz @funkydancingdinosaur

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Salazar/Sally MK11 KONCEPT:

Bio: Expert markswoman and self made orphan, Sally “Salazar” Rider earned Kano’s attention after taking down some of his goons because they took one of her targets. Kano gave her an offer, more money than home would offer, and double the fun. Now working for the most dangerous criminal in earthrealm, Sally keeps her guns loaded and eyes locked on the next payday.

Skins:

Fast Gun: Her default outfit. A leather jacket over a practical BD vest. Has some southern fashion, but this is her in BD mode.

Family Fortunes: A more fancy outfit, but still practical enough to keep her guns hidden. Has a family logo.

In the fray: A dressed down version of 'Fast Gun' Her biceps are exposed, with a bulletproof vest under her shirt.

Little Orphan Sally: The outfit Sally wore to her parent's funeral. A formal skirt. If you look closely, you'll see some blood on the handkerchief in her pocket.

Normals: (Lots of pistol whips., she has a move with short range gunshots)

Base special moves:

Sally is a woman of many talents, primarily relating to firearms. She can switch between a pair of handguns and a shotgun, but never all at once. Each ‘stance’ has limited ammo before reloading. If out of ammo for both guns, her throw is changed to incorporate a small pocket knife.

(Handguns: Seven bullets each.) (Shotgun: Six bullets.)

Firing off: Salazar grabs the opponent by the neck and fire a shot in their stomach before kicking them down. Amplify for three more shots. (Handgun stance.) if out of ammo, she’ll pistol whip the opponent instead.

Buckshot: Salazar shoves the end of her shotgun against the opponent’s nose, knocking them down. Amplify for her to twirl it around and fire point blank. If the shotgun is out of ammo, she’ll smack them with it like a baseball bat. (shotgun stance.)

High shot: Sally fires upwards, catching airborne opponents. Amplify for a pop up:

Boom: Sally tosses a grenade in an arc. Amplify as it’s thrown for her to shoot it, causing an explosion that bounces the opponent if they’re in range.

Kustom special moves:

Gun spin: Salazar pulls out her gun and twirls it around. Depending on when you release the button, she shoots either upwards, downward, or straight forward.

Connections: Sally whistles and a sniper from offscreen fires at the opponent. Can be delayed.

Old trick: Sally takes off her hat and bows. If the opponent hits her, she dodges and smacks them away. Amplify for a gun shot.

Fatal blow:

Gun-Show: Sally smash the opponent twice with her handguns before firing a twin shot two their opponent’s gut (SLO MO 1) she pockets her guns and takes out her shotgun, ramming the stock into their nose (SLO MO 2) Finally, as the opponent falls on their back, she points the barrel at their face, smirking. She pulls the trigger and fires. (SLO MO 3)

Fatalities:

Long distance: Sally drops a smoke bomb and disappears. The opponent looks around, finding her nowhere to be seen. Then, from out of nowhere, a bullet shoots through their chest. The camera pans away go reveal Sally with a sniper rifle, the crosshairs pointed right at their head. She pulls the trigger, and you get a nice shot of their head exploding through the scope.

Cowgirl roulette: Sally pulls out an old fashioned revolver and spins the chamber two times. She pulls the trigger, but nothing comes out. The opponent breathes a sigh of relief before Sally spins again, and fires a bullet into their throat. There’s a POV shot of the opponent as Sally crouches down with a finger to her lips, as if asking them to die quietly.

Intro animations:

Contract Killer: Sally walks in with a phone to her ear. “Understood, double the pay, half the time.”

Good Girl: A horse rides into frame, the camera pans up to show Sally on her back. She steps off as she talks.

High Noon: A tumbleweed rolls along the ground, leading to show Sally cleaning one of her guns.

Mama’s favourite: Bullets are loaded into a golden revolver, before it’s twirled around and stuffed into a holster.

Outro animations:

Bounty collected: Sally scoops up the opponent, tying their legs and arms up. She then hops onto her horse and she rides off while dragging the opponent across the ground.

A day’s work: Sally tips her hat and walks off. The scene fades to show her sitting at a BD tavern with her hat covering her face. The camera cuts close to her face as she lightly tilts it up, orange light coming from her cigar.

Love the thrill: Sally stretches out with a pleased sigh. “Oh, I love this job.” She turns away, walking into the sunset.

Good ol’ days: Sally pulls out a picture of her family, smiling softly. “Love you, ma.” Slowdown of her blocking out her younger self’s face.

Idle animations:

She stretches out.

She taps her boot against the back of her other.

Intro dialogue:

Vs Kano:

Salazar: What’s the occasion?

Kano: Now that we’ve got Erron back, I’m wondering if you’re worth it.

Salazar: *Chuckle* Oh, now you’ve done it.

Vs Cassie:

Salazar: Cute toys, little girl.

Cassie: That’s a funny way to refer to a deadly weapon.

Salazar: Only if you know how to use’ em.

Cassie, in an impression of Sally’s accent: Howdy, Miss.

Salazar: Knock it off.

Cassie: Someone’s testy…

Vs Tasia:

Sally: Quit stealing my kills.

Tasia: It’s not my fault you’re a slow shooter.

Sally: Allow me to prove you wrong.

Vs Erron:

Sally: This town ain't big enough for the two of us...

Erron: Askin' for a standoff?

Sally: Count of three.

Vs Kitana:

Sally: I'm an heiress too, you know.

Kitana: That doesn't make us equals.

Sally: Yeah, cause I'm no pampered princess.

Mid fight quotes:

“Watch yourself.”

“Is that it?”

"Run on home."

[luminiamore]

IN THE A.

biker geto suguru x black hoochie mama reader

warnings: fingerfucking, soft dom sugu, he’s a tease, sugu has a big dick, but we knew this!

a/n: this man is so fine i need him neow.

second part here.

masterlist

Life has always treated you so well, beyond well, in fact. You resided in one of Atlanta’s finest lofts, debt-free at 23 despite recently graduating from college. Even though you have your own income, your generous parents still send you a fat check every week or so. You had men constantly begging on their knees to fund your entire existence, and on the occasion, women, too. Everything you wanted simply came to you with no trouble. 

You wanted that cute brown skin man with the waves that you saw at the grocery store? He already has your number. You want that pretty ’90s hairstyle you saw in a vintage magazine? You were already on your way to go get it done. You want to change your dramatic nails, even though you just got them done two days ago, because you found another style you want more? Who can deny you? It’s your world. 

Was it manifestation? Who knows. The one thing you do know is that the world hands you everything on a pure gold platter.

Popularity followed you whenever you went, but who could blame you? You were the epitome of everything sexy. From the way your rose-colored wedges beautifully complement your flawless white toes against your dark skin to how your denim mini skirts hug your curves and accentuate your figure, and your tops, or mainly bikini tops, enhance your boobs so well that they could make a grown man cry. 

Had you been an adult woman in the 90s instead of being a high-maintenance child, you might have been a star, perhaps even one of the most iconic video vixens. However, that title belongs to your momma. The OG.

She was the sought-after beauty every top rapper wanted for their music videos. From Snoop Dogg to 50 Cent, Lil Wayne to Jay Z, Biggie - she lit up screens. She even brought fire to the feud between Tupac and Biggie when she appeared in the latter’s video. You’re almost sure that lady even told you about how Pac was nearly your father before she met your dad. And you, like the little minx you were, lived up to her status.

Now, you weren’t in those modern-day rap videos of the pretty big booty woman shaking their ass on camera. Your momma raised you to have more class than that. She taught you that your ass isn’t the biggest asset you have to offer, figuratively. Your face is, the way you make people feel is, the way you seduce people is. 

That resulted in you appearing in a few music videos where the artist expressed love for someone, as those typically featured the camera focused on one girl. And that girl was you. Those got you the recognition your momma had. Those got men practically lining up to pay all your bills, those got plentiful women dying to either be you or be with you.

Your reputation preceded you; you were exceptional, operating on a different level altogether. Your complexion was flawless, your lips rich and full, and your eyes possessed a captivating allure that could weaken anyone with just one glance. You were taught to always go after the best because you are the best. 

So, what the hell was your ass doing walking around in Oakland City? Wearing your ripped undercut booty shorts, which showed more booty than shorts, along with a vintage Dior top you borrowed stole from your momma, complete with a matching purse.

Your flower sandals from Dolce & Gabbana made such a powerful tapping sound, combined with the multiple pieces of gold adorning your wrists, ears, and neck, that everyone you passed couldn’t help but look to see just who it was, and they were definitely not disappointed.

You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t dream of entering one of the most dangerous areas of your hometown without protection. Your bedazzled gold pepper spray and your fully loaded Beretta Nano 9mm pistol in your purse, itching to be used if someone tries you.

They wouldn’t dare, though. Your momma wasn’t the only legendary figure in your family. Your dad ran one of the leading crime families in all of Atlanta, dealing with heavy drugs, counterfeiting, and smuggling illegal things across borders. He was feared just as equally as he was respected. 

Messing with you? Your pops would send their family a well-decorated package with their son on a shirt. The last man that cheated on you was a prime example. You couldn’t feel bad for him, though, you did warn him.

To answer your earlier inquiry, which has been nagging at you since you parked your Toyota GR Supra Coupe at a motel five blocks away from the neighborhood, you were there to buy drugs. Weed, more specifically. You could have asked your father, but you really weren’t up for hearing his opinion on how he believes you smoke too much. So you go to the next best thing, Satoru Gojo. 

Since your dad was focused on dealing with harder drugs, he didn’t bother with substances like shrooms or anything related to weed. He considered himself too old for that and delegated the task to his second in command and your friend since birth, Satoru. You quicken your pace, heels tapping rapidly as you approach one of his many houses. You’re almost there. 

He has some of the best shit in the A, but whenever you ask him how he does it,

“I just sell it, Sis. My best friend does all the hard stuff,” 

You would always roll your pretty eyes at this because this supposed best friend he always bragged about was never around. At first, you believed he fibbed about having a best friend out of embarrassment, suspecting that you were the only one who could tolerate his antics.

But you saw glimpses, small ones. A fine leather jacket hanging off his dining room chair that you know Satoru wouldn’t wear. A motorcycle helmet standing tall on the side of his kitchen counter. Your suspicions proved unfounded as your gaze shifted to a sleek, blacked-out MTT 420 Turbine Superbike as you approached Toru’s driveway. 

You know damn well that can’t belong to Satoru. Your movements stop once you knock harshly on the door. You catch the faint sound of a random trap song playing through it. You can’t help but smile, amused by how predictably cliché this white-haired man-child can be. Trap music at a trap house.

Your smile fades as you’re met with a cold glare from a short, thick, light-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig. Studying her features further, you can’t help but acknowledge her prettiness. But the minute she opened her mouth, you were annoyed.

“And, who the fuck you is?” She snaps loudly, the gum she’s chewing matching her obnoxiousness. She’s too pretty for this.

“Girl, bye.” You push past her, causing her to stumble slightly, as you march into the house. Maybe she was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out. With your back turned to her, you catch Satoru muttering softly and glancing past you, “Don’t even try it.” 

She sucks her teeth in annoyance, slamming the door behind her as she heads back to the couch where Satoru, another man, and three other girls are seated. Wait- another man? 

You glance back at the couch again, only to steady your hands on the wall you were leaning on. Woah. This man was so fine that he almost made your legs give out on you. The fuck?

His face was so pretty. Sharp black eyes and the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a man. The wife beater he wore clung tightly to his perfect skin, so much so that you could make out that he had nipple piercings. Woah. The tattoos trailing up both of his muscular arms had you ready to remind yourself to just fucking breathe. He sported washed black Chrome Heart jeans, and the pretty cross peeking from his waistband gave it away. 

This man was looking at you, more like undressing you with his eyes. And you couldn’t look away.

“You can’t be knocking on my door like that Sis, I almost thought you were the feds.” Satoru hums, though he really wasn’t worried. He knew the feds couldn’t hold him for long; he had too much money for that. You quickly glance at him and roll your eyes. When you shift your gaze away from Toru, you turn back to the man who has yet to introduce himself to you.

As if he could read your mind, he rises from his seat, his towering height catching you off guard, and he saunters almost sensually towards where you’re standing in the kitchen. The minute he stands in front of you,

“Suguru Geto. You’re beautiful if you don’t mind me saying,” He brings a hand out to shake yours, his eyes never shifting from your brown ones. You glance down for a moment, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy when you catch sight of his immaculately clean, clear polished nails, his fingers adorned with silver rings. Lord, help you.

You give him a smile when you register his compliment, “Y/n. You’re the infamous best friend I hear so much about but never see?” You raise a brow.

Suguru swears he’s died and went to heaven when he hears your honey voice. He thinks he’s met the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on. The gold grill you have of what he remembers is the Scorpio sign confirms it. I mean, just look at you, your outfit, your jewelry, and your face. 

Suguru believes he knows himself. He knows he doesn’t like girls that do “too much,” but you make it look so good. He knows he doesn’t even have a fetish for feet. But if you told him to right now, he would drop down immediately and worship yours. He believed a goddess was walking among him when you walked through the door. 

“That’s me, the idiot doesn’t have anyone else,” He mutters. You let out the cutest laugh at his comment that makes his dick harden in his jeans. Lord, help him.

Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp behind the two of you, “Hey! I have Y/n!” You immediately retort at him, raising a finger at him. 

“Aht! No, you don’t,” You chuckle, snickering and rolling your eyes as you catch him placing a hand on his heart as if you’ve just shot him.

“Stop hogging my best friend and come get what you came for, Sis,” He waves a bag in the air, holding at least 20 grams of weed, ignoring the two girls tugging on both of his arms.

You squeal and sprint as fast as your heels allow towards where he’s seated. Suguru follows after you slowly, feeling ashamed at the way the other two girls cling to him the moment he sits down. He wants nothing to do with them, he feels almost disgusted by their presence now that you’re here. He didn’t even realize they were here when he arrived, he was only here for Satoru.

You snatch the bag from him, slip it into your purse, and then lunge toward him for a hug, knowing he’d never let you pay, of course.

“Thank you, Toru!” Naturally, he wastes no time pushing the two girls aside to embrace you. You’ve always been his top priority. Suguru finds it challenging to look away because as you hug his best friend, your curvaceous behind is directly in his line of sight. He wishes you would hug him like that.

When you straighten, “I gotta go. You guys seem busy anyway,” You quickly utter and glance at Suguru. He seemed like he was about to say something, but you interject before he can. 

“It was nice meeting you, Suguru.” You softly tell him. He might’ve just came in his pants with the way you said his name in that tone. He pauses for a moment, but before he can utter a word, you’ve already dashed out the front door.

He stills, and he turns to his lifelong best friend,

“Give me her number.”

It’s been about two hours since you arrived at your loft. You prepared yourself a nice dinner, a well-made Alfredo, before making your way to your room. You sink into the comfort of your silk sheets, retrieving your ashtray and preparing to roll up. Soft Erykah Badu playing from your Alexa Speaker. You’re interrupted by an unknown number dinging on your phone. 

Who’s this?

You smile immediately, feeling a rush of nerves as you realize he asked Satoru for your number. You're accustomed to getting what you want, and right now, you want him. You eagerly await his text, noticing that he's typing.

You observe his directness. Suguru is texting you as if he knows exactly what he wants, and if there's one thing you admire in a man, it's when he's decisive and goes after what he wants. You've already decided to smoke with him, swiftly swapping your shorts for a black Juicy Tracksuit as it got windy. You opt to play a little hard to get.

Your jaw drops at the amount he sent you for an Uber. Is he crazy? While you’ve had people send you rides to go somewhere, you can’t shake the feeling that he just wanted an excuse to send you money. You’re still reeling from the shock when he immediately sends you the address to his place afterward. You grab two rolled-up blunts and slide on a pair of kitten heels. Snatching your keys, you head out when your Uber driver arrives outside.

The drive to his place is surprisingly short, almost too short. Considering how spread out the area is, you’ve only been in the car for 15 minutes, yet you’re still in the same neighborhood. You brush it off and approach his door. As you knock, you notice Suguru’s driveway filled with three vehicles: the motorcycle you saw earlier, a Mercedes E-Class, and a sleek BMW M3. You can’t help but appreciate yet another reason you’re drawn to him.

He opens the door, and you swear you wish you could pounce on him. He’s still wearing the wife beater, and when you glance up at his face, you notice his eyes are low and red. With his hair tied up in a man bun, a few strands cascading over his face, the only thought running through your mind is... He’s so pretty.

“You started getting lit without me?” You feign surprise as he welcomes you inside. He kindly takes your keys and hangs them on the holder by his door. You could feel him staring at your ass as you move to stand beside him.

He chuckles, shaking his head at you. He reaches a hand out. “You know how Satoru is. My room?” You nod, and he shivers as your long, pretty nails brush against his hand. Was everything about you so alluring?

You follow behind him, noting how he never lets go of your hand. His room, much like his style, is entirely black. Black sheets adorn a king-sized bed, with a few rock band posters hanging above where his dressers are placed. He even has a private bathroom, the door wide open. Damn, this man even has lavender incense burning on the small desk next to his bed.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,”

Don’t mind if I do. You drop your body on his bed with a plop. You start to take off your right heel, intending to reach for the left one, only to find Suguru already kneeling down, doing it for you. When he’s done, he rubs your feet for about three long seconds before pulling away. You gasp softly, looking away from his intense gaze. Is he usually this forward?

“Uh- I rolled two. I get lip gloss on the blunt,” You sputter out, retrieving them from your purse as he stands up from his position on the floor and settles onto his pillow.

He makes a tsk sound, “Don’t play with me,” He grabs only one from your raised hand and pulls a skull lighter from his jeans pocket. As you place the other one in your purse, you watch him take the first hit. You realize he enjoys eye contact because, throughout all of his movements, his eyes never leave yours.

You’re nervous. For the first time in your life, a man has made you feel nervous. His energy makes you nervous, how he observes you with such intensity makes you nervous, and even how he feeds you the blunt after taking a few hits makes you nervous.

You’re mesmerized. The effects of the blunts hit you swiftly, altering your mind and intensifying your urge to fuck this man till he sees stars.

Suguru himself has never felt this way before. He’s had a few flings here and there and has even been in a relationship or two. But he’s never felt the need to be entirely consumed by someone. The minute he saw you, it felt like time had stopped for him; he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to give you the universe because the world is far too small for someone like you.

“You have a boyfriend?” His husky voice asks this out of respect for you. Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck less if you had a man. You’d be his either way.

“Why? You want me?” You giggle, though you knew he did, you just wanted to tease him. As you gaze up at him through the haze, your breath catches when you observe that his eyes have darkened noticeably. You recognize that expression all too well—it mirrors the one you give the camera when it’s focused on you.

He doesn’t respond or even break a smile at your inquiry. No, his eyes are fixated on your plump, glossed lips as you take another hit. You shift your thighs a little, you don’t know how long you can wait before he makes his move.

Suguru notices, and this time, his lips twitch up a bit, “And if I did?” His whisper keeps you quiet. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Suguru doesn’t mind your silence. He needs you to savor your angelic tune anyway since you’ll scream his name in a few minutes. Rising from his position, he tilts your chin towards him, his eyes catching note of the smoke in your mouth. Drawing his lips dangerously close to yours, he exhales softly,

“Let it go.” You don’t hesitate to listen to his command. It’s as if your mind is his now, the way he doesn’t even do anything to get your attention. As soon as the smoke escapes your lips, he inhales it, pressing his soft lips firmly against yours.

You whimper out at the force and immediately kiss him back. Suguru swears he’s already in love when he feels your lips reciprocate his action, the stickiness of your strawberry gloss making him release a sound that had you squeezing your thighs. He’s relentless, nipping and forcing his tongue to merge with yours.

His fervor with just a kiss leaves you reeling. The combination of the weed and his lips makes you feel intoxicated, causing you to grasp onto the fabric of his jeans to steady yourself. When he pulls away from you, it only makes you crave more.

You’re both breathing heavily, and the sound of Brent Faiyez playing on his speaker is long tuned out. He stares at your eyes briefly before gently pulling you down to lay on your back. You lean up to pull him into another passionate kiss,

“More, please.” You whine out, a little too desperate for your taste. You couldn’t understand why you wanted him so bad, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that your pussy was dripping the minute you saw him at Satoru’s place. You can tell he wants to take things slow, but you can’t find it in you to share the same feeling. You need him to do something to you, now.

He only whispers, “Patience, sweetheart.” And moves his lips down to your neck. Soft kisses fill your throat before he stops teasing and reaches for your zipper. He's not shocked to learn that you don't wear a bra; he could almost see your hard nipples through the velvet fabric of your hoodie.

Your sigh of satisfaction comes from the moment he wraps his lips around your dark areola and gently caresses the fat of your unattended boob. He starts slowly, listening to the sounds you make and observing how he can persuade you to moan louder. Your breath gets shaky when he gets more aggressive with his movement, pulling at your sensitive nipples. He decides that he wants more from you.

Suguru rasps out, “I know you want me to fuck you,” Your body feels on fire as his touch slithers down your stomach, grazing your belly ring. He lowers your tracksuit pants for you and throws them across his room, forbidding you to do anything that doesn’t include you receiving pleasure. Your body is anticipating as he continues, “But I need to prep you, or you won’t be able to take me,”

He toys with the slender strap of your thong, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on your face as he talks, “Be good and let me play with you for a bit, okay?”

Your fiery personality is well-known for not letting men dictate your actions. You’re quick to dismiss any nigga, and based on instinct, you’re almost prepared to snap: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 

By now, you should realize that Suguru observes every single move you make, every slight gesture you make, when your breath catches, and even now, he detects that you intend to snap at him. He does nothing but give you a look, a dangerous look, which only implies I dare you. Suguru orchestrates a dominance so calm but prominent that you can’t help but whimper out a quiet “Yes,”

What is he doing to you?

He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth as a reward. He’s in a trance. Suguru can’t pull his gaze away from your panties. You’re so wet that it’s clinging onto the fabric as he slowly pulls it away from your lower lips. He finds himself plunging two fingers into your wet cunt before your thong even touches your knees. Fuck, you’re tight.

“Ah- shit! Sugu!” You mewl, walls immediately clenching on his thick fingers. He quickly begins to rub circles on your twitching clit, observing as you gasp and scramble under him. You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you this, too.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Your slick is dripping all over his palm as he finger fucks you. You try to keep your moans in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your mind. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but scream out at the way his long fingers are effortlessly punishing your G-spot.

Suguru moves his fingers faster when you don’t answer him, “I asked you a question, baby.” 

Your loud whimpers can be heard over his music. How could you possibly answer? You’re already starting to blank, you’re not sure you even listened to what he said. “I- Oh fuck, Yes!” 

The sounds coming from your fat pussy is downright phonographic. The squishing, the squelching. Shit, it’s even dripping onto his bed, creating a wet stain. Fuck. Suguru doesn’t think he can take another minute without being inside you. He needs it, but he needs to make you cum first. 

He knows you’re about to, with the way your breathing is stuttering and the way there’s a white cream starting to stain his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you. You’re clenching so hard he’s not sure his dick will fit inside of you. He’ll make it fit, he’ll break your little pussy in if he has to.

Suguru leans against you, his desperate panting revealing his longing for you as he whispers in your ear, “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He fucks his fingers inside of you harder, rubbing your pretty clit even faster.

You nod eagerly, mind already reeling as you wail, “Y-Yes. I’m gonna cum, Sugu! I- Shitt,” He gently kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he’s encouraging you to accept it, to just cum all over him. And you do.

Your grip on the bottom of Suguru’s wifebeater hurts your fingers, and you arch your back off the bed while your tight walls clench once more around him. You see white spots in your blacked-out vision, and your squealing is so loud that you worry the neighbors will hear it. He doesn’t stop moving when you cum, wanting to prolong what he knows is the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. 

When you finally stop twitching in aftershock, your breathing begins to slow down, and his movements follow suit. Your panties are long gone. He swiftly pulls out of you while you’re still in a daze, making you unaware that he’s sucking up your essence from his fingers and pulling his jeans down along with his Calvin Klein briefs.

You are, however, aware when he pushes your thick brown thighs flush against your chest. And you’re even more aware when he lines his fat pink tip to your sticky lower lips. Suguru doesn’t let you see just how big he is, he directs your focus to his lips on yours. But Lord, do you fucking feel it. You feel it when he rubs up and down on your wet slit. You feel it when he pushes only his tip inside of you before he pulls back out again.

Suguru doesn’t think he can keep on teasing you like this. He tries to keep it up for your sake, but the way you feel on his tip has his body shaking; it’s almost embarrassing. But he can’t find himself to feel ashamed when you look up at him at him like that, your eyes pleading for him to fuck you into the mattress.

“I’m gonna put it in now, baby. I’m gonna fuck you real good, okay?” You’re learning, you know he wants an answer from you, and you don’t bat an eye when your trembling, honeyed voice whispers, “Whatever y-you want, Sugu.”

Whatever he wants? You probably should’ve never said that, and he’ll show you why. He pushes inside of your cunt slowly, hissing at the same time you shriek when your walls try to push him out. “Breathe,” He rasps out. And you’re trying, you’re really trying to. But he’s just so fucking big, it’s like he’s breaking your pussy in half. 

“Y-You’re too big! I can’t-” He doesn’t let you finish, he proves that you can when he pushes in halfway through your slobbering pussy. 

“Of course you can, Y/n. You’re almost there, sweetheart. One more breath for me, yeah?” 

You listen wordlessly, sucking in another deep breath. It’s inevitable to cry when he plunges the rest of his 8 and a half inches in one go. Suguru lets out a groan in your ear, and the sound makes your insides churn. How is it that he immediately finds your spongy spot? You’re so used to being briefly grazed in that spot that this feeling is foreign to you.

Suguru gives you a few seconds before your pussy starts suffocating him, and he’s forced to start feeding you with slow, deep strokes. “Jesus, fuck!” You keen, mewling, and pressing on his firm abs; the pressure was just too much for you. Are you crazy?

“None of that Y/n.” He uses his left hand to hold both of your hands and place them above your head, gently grasping your throat with his right. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, and his big cock never stops stirring up your guts at that slow pace. He gets impatient. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight. Pretty pussy is mine now, yeah? Tell me it is,” Gradual snapping of his hips against yours in a feverous tempo causes you to scramble under him, with your mind getting lost since you can’t find anything to keep you grounded. He has you altogether under his control, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset.

You don’t respond, your brain too gone to form any thought that’s not Sugu. You’ve forgotten your manners, he’ll make sure to remind you. He snaps his hips harder, he swears the cries you make almost make him cum on the spot.

“Words, Y/n. Tell me this perfect pussy is mine,” The sound of your soaked pussy filling the air as he whispers against your lips, which are permanently shaped in a perfect O.

You weep out, “Fuck! Oh, Sugu- it’s yours, all yours! I- Ah!” His face adorns with a sly smile at your confession. His body is on fire, your pussy perfectly snug around the shape of his cock. He knows he’s about to cum, with the way his insides are twisting, and his heavy balls are twitching rapidly as they slap on the fat on your ass. Your pussy is so good that he swears you’re not even from this planet. But he needs to get you there first. That’s all he needs to dump his seed inside of you.

He slithers the hand gripping your throat down to your drooling clit, rubbing so fast you think you’re having whiplash. Your cries become louder, and before you even know what’s happening, you’re covering Suguru’s entire stomach and his soft sheets with your squirt.

Suguru follows swiftly after you, letting out a sinful moan, his body trembling as he fills your pussy with his cum. It’s so much, so fucking much, that you can feel it overflowing past your stretched-out pussy. The sluggishness of his thrusts inside you causes him to let out loud breaths and drop his face in the crook of your neck.

Your eyes are still stuck on the ceiling above you, shallow breaths emerging from your sore throat. Woah.

The long-haired man above you is still panting and giving you another command, making it difficult for you to process what just happened to you.

“On your stomach, sweetheart.”

This time, you remember your manners.

[innocentlymacabre]

Airborne Nightmare

13.01.2020

F O R E W O R D

Before we begin, I should make it clear that this story takes place in the early 1960s, when aeroplane rules were a lot laxer. One could brandish a cigar, or holster a pistol, or even brandish a cigar while holstering a pistol. Now, consider if you will, the thoughts of one James Augustus McCoy, as he goes airborne in a helm of metal, held together by nothing more than nuts and bolts, and is rocketed to well over twenty thousand feet in the sky, at speeds faster than any other passenger vehicle can even attempt. His nightmare treads the razor edge between the possibility that it’s merely James’s psyche feeling especially cruel, or that what he thinks he sees hanging off the edge of the plane is real.

##

James McCoy was not one to usually opt to fly. He took the train whenever he could, or else simply drove around, tacking on hours to his trip instead of hopping on a plane. But every now and again he was forced into rattling metal death traps over twenty thousand feet in the sky. Today was one of those days. And the worst part? It could have been avoided if people were ever so slightly more competent at their jobs.

James’s company was in the middle of a major deal with one of their German competitors. Despite having their base of operations just under a thousand kilometres away, their prices seemed to consistently shrink James’s company’s market share, year after year. This year though, someone upstairs decided to do something about it and rang up the Germans.

The technical term for what conspired is “price fixing”, but James preferred to think of it as simply allowing British products complete freedom in the British market. The meaty bonus it came with was, of course, a secondary consideration.

Everything was going swimmingly, and their little team of five (it was important to keep these things hush-hush) was working in excellent coordination. Until, that is, Oliver Anderson fantastically cocked it all up. He allowed his son onto his work computer — for what reason, James will never be able to understand — and the boy ended up sending some rather offensive emails to the Germans. Again, why the boy did it, or how he thought up the deed and the contents of the email, will forever be lost on James, but he sure was glad to see the child being reprimanded. He never could stand children, which was why he didn’t have any of his own. He was happily married to a wonderful woman and adored their rescue pup.

Troublesome children aside, it was now up to James to sort out this royal screw up, so here he was, flying to Germany before they decide that the English just aren’t professional enough to be able to execute and honour this deal.

He strapped into his seat, nervously clinging to both armrests after having tightened the seatbelt as much as he could. Through the window, he stared at the men loading the luggage into the cargo hold below. He wondered what would happen to the poor soul who accidentally wound up stranded in the hold, perhaps adjusting a bag at the back or correcting the fastening on some luggage he noticed on his way out, the others oblivious to his absence. He’d probably be tossed around from side to side, smashing into the cargo. When the plane finally landed, they’d find him unconscious, or even dead, in a pool of blood, body and bones shattered well beyond hope of recovery.

James shook his head clear; he mustn’t think of such things. No, not at all. That was a sure-fire way to accelerate his descent to madness, especially when there was so much else that could go wrong much more easily. The plane could lose connection with ground control, their frequency could be hijacked, flight paths may get distorted or deleted, turbulence might toss them abou-

NO!

He drained the small plastic bottle from the seat pocket in front of him and pulled his nightcap down. If things were going to go wrong, he’d rather he goes in his sleep, instead of having to face the danger head-on. With that in mind, he popped another ibuprofen in, hoping he wouldn’t hit the OD limit, and swallowed it dry.

Ten minutes later he wasn’t feeling any sleepier, so he resigned to his fate and reached for the Daily Mirror dutifully placed in front of him. He glanced fleetingly at the date — Thursday, February 16th, 1961 — as if to confirm that he really was having to do this and read the top news.

Bad move.

The front-page headline read Eight Hours to Live and was a story about the United States ice-skating team. Their plane crashed and exploded, killing all seventy-two passengers and crew. James’ stomach tightened, but somehow the rest of his muscles loosened, almost as if they were giving up. They were just kids, none of them more than twenty years old, their entire lives ahead of them. But it had been snatched up by the brethren of the very thing to which he now entrusted his life.

When his body finally tightened and loosened in all the right places, James got up to go to the bathroom, thinking a cold splash of water would help him. He picked out the small kit he had prepared from his bag in the overhead compartment and made his way down the aisle.

He stood by the sink and gripped the edges with both hands, staring directly at his reflection. His eyes, while usually brown, seemed a disorienting shade of red. He could see veins popping out of his forehead, crossing over and under each other, pulsating dangerously hard, feeling like they were about to rip themselves out of his body.

James doused his face with water and looked up again. His face seemed back to normal. He took slow, deep breaths as he stood in the small, closet-like cabin in a contraption held together by nuts and bolts at a lethally scary height.

He dug deep into the kit until he reached the bottom and his hand coiled around the .950 he had kept in there for the last five years. He sat on the toilet and stared at its pure black body gleaming in the drowsy yellow light of the cubicle. It would be so easy to just pull down on the little piece of metal and end this misery. It was a tempting thought – no more flying, no more rattling metal, no more child-created cockups to deal with – but he shook his head clear and put it back.

He had performed this routine every time he’d flown, never once going beyond just looking at the gun. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t just leave it at home if he was never going to use it, why – for reasons unknown to even himself – he didn’t just leave it at the back of his cupboard instead of the bottom of the kit if all he was ever going to do was look.

He had actually made it all the way to the taxi without it once. As he sat in the car, James breathed a sigh of relief, thinking his fear had finally been washed away. The moment he could no longer see his house in the rearview mirror though, he told the driver to turn back around and dashed in to grab it.

The moment James returned to his seat, the seatbelt sign lit upand the captain’s voice came crackling through the PA system,

‘Good afternoon everyone, this is your captain speaking.’ He dragged the os in his “good afternoon” which James found strangely calming. ‘We seem to be experiencing some mild turbulence. Nothing to be afraid of, but I’m going to have to ask you all to return to your seats and strap in, nevertheless. Cabin crew, please take your positions.’

‘Nothing to be afraid of…’ James muttered under his breath. He’d decide that for himself, thank you very much. He decided there was something to be afraid of and tightened the seat belt until it was pressing into his stomach, set his seat upright, and pulled up the window shade. His head lolled to the side as he stared unseeingly out of the window, his mind wandering all over the place. The ibuprofen seemed to be finally working and James did nothing to stop it – he needed to at least mentally get out of there.

A jolt of lightning snapped him back to the present, almost as if it went through him and not the skies outside. He jerked his head towards the window and froze almost instantly. There was a man hanging onto the wing, clinging for his life. He swayed up and down and side to side, slamming into the wing over and over again. He feverishly clawed his way forward, as if the tiny windows were his personal saving grace. The man’s mouth opened and closed but James couldn’t make out any of the words he was saying. Frantically, James spammed the button to get an air hostess over.

‘Man…wing…lightning…window.’ He had trouble forming full sentences, only being able to produce fragments accompanied by frenzied arm movements. When he looked over again though, there was no one there. The air hostess looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion and asked if James wanted anything.

‘A gin and tonic. Four parts gin.’ If drugs didn’t cut it, alcohol would have to.

Lightning flashed outside again, and the figure re-appeared. Only this time it wasn’t the same person. He took a closer look at the figure in peril and paled when he realised who he was.

‘Anna…’

No, it couldn’t be. Not his Anna. He inched closer to the window, hoping, praying it wasn’t her. Oh, but it was. But it wasn’t. It was just a figment of his imagination. He wouldn’t call for help again. He’s stronger than that.

He watched helplessly as she was tossed around like the man before her and watched with desperation as she too tried to make her way forward. But alas, the winds were not as merciful as last time. They didn’t allow her to make her way to the window as her predecessor had. James would have even broken it himself and tugged her in. But no, the winds picked her up, bashed her against the body of the plane and sent her downwards, barrelling towards the ground and certain death, if, that is, she wasn’t already gone.

James called for the air hostess again but didn’t even try to offer an explanation this time. He just sat there, curled up in his seat. The air hostess — Claudia, her name was — draped a blanket over him and brought him a warm cup of tea saying it would help with the nerves. Needless to say, it didn’t, but James fell asleep soon after that, his body completely exhausted from the stress it had been handling.

Just under an hour later, Claudia gently woke James up from his pool of sweat and told him they were preparing for landing. He had made it but felt like some part of him had died up there all the same.

-----

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[honestsycrets]

Mine, Mine, Mine | [ Ivar x Reader, Domestic Fluffs ]

❛ pairing | King!Ivar x Queen!Reader

❛ genre | drabble

❛ summary | it’s hard work, appeasing everyone. after he comes home from raid, he just has one question.

❛  warnings | needy, moody, sassy reader, jealousy (reader), he’s just trying to keep up, mention of raid and kidnapping and all that entails.

❛  sy’s notes | hello, hello. after a bit of a health scare and some high-level school stress, i’m back. request from @whenimaunicorn for hand-holding under the table except this reader wasn’t nearly as sweet as i thought she would be and ended up being a moody bitch. 😂

 Crowds filter into his great hall. They want his gold, to hear of his stories, his speeches that will be sung from the lips of a hundred skalds one day—another busy day at the crown of Kattegat’s throne. You move to the chair where you oversaw the depths of Kattegat’s problems while he was away, a timely revolt, and the outlaws you dragged into the sea.  

He smells of sweat and sea salt. He’s left you waiting out at the shore for his flag so long. Then finally, he’s home. The men after glittering pounds of gold, sprawled across the table in front of the throne. The glittering gold on the table has dwindled down to nothing but scraps of bracelets. The women-- oh, you know how they stare, longing that one cherished kiss at the end of his speeches.

It was yours tonight. Like it always should be. You trace the place his lips were, revel in his lasting kiss, and feel his eye settle on you. For just one moment in the lasting moment of this hideously long day, it was okay. Your cheeks fill with a youthful warmth, embarrassed by his eye on your pursed lips. Your hand drops, swirling around the head of a seat his mother sat on once too.

“What is it?”

It’s almost routine, the way his calloused fingers trail over your knuckles. He gingerly caresses the top of your fingers, slipping between the spaces of your knuckles, grazing over and over again until he finds the confidence to hold your hand.

“Did you miss them?” he asks.

For a moment, you stare out at the swirling bodies—a blend of muddy hues, vibrant heads of blonde and ruddy brown. You don’t answer at first, looking down at your empty plate.

“Miss what?”

As if you hadn’t just been staring at the place he kissed.

Ivar brings his horn to your lips. It tastes better when he’s home as if nature knows when to sweeten the honey and freshen the mead. He must have been in a hurry to return home-- if he came in the depths of spring rather than raid away the summer. Perhaps it is because he had been gone more than a year. Only the word of messengers alerted you that his raid in Sweden with Bjorn had gone as well as it could with two stubborn Ragnarssons side by side.

“My kisses. What else? You stare so longingly at your hand every time I come back.” he prompts without much success. The raid was longer than it should have been, you know he knows that. More than time, though, you’ve gone without the warmth of his body strewn in yours in bed. His hand feels clammy. 

“My sweet,” he says again. “Don’t ignore me.”

There’s a pretty privilege in seeing him duck his head down rather than stare directly at you, as he so often did to the men that served under him. Or above him when King Harald and Hvitserk were alive. He bobs his head in recognition that your mind was made up; you’d make him suffer, and he would sleep on one of the beds bound up by chains in the great hall. Just as he reaches for his crutch, you squeeze his sweaty hand.

“What did you bring me home from the raid?” you redirect his attention, reaching for the remnants of gold—bracelets of solid yellow gold, earrings with filigree, gentle and refined. You snatch an earring and bounce it in your palm.

“A sword.” Your Ivar chuckles. Warm, low, as if you needed anything else to warm your belly.

“A sword, he says.” He raises his hand to reach over the table toward the sword in question. You snatch his hand where it was suspended in the air. When everyone else brought home wives or thralls? Did he think you were stupid?

“Yes-- a sword. Is that so unbelievable?”

“It must be a tremendously beautiful sword to be picked among all the things in Al-Andalus.” you hum in the softest of husks. He knows the purpose; it’s a dance between you and him, a moment of love. You release his hands to loiter over him, trailing your fingers past his long fingerlike braids that tumble down his back. “Hvitserk told you all about the Mediterranean. Are the women there pretty?”

“Not particularly,” he lies.

You shoot him a wan look.

“Are you lying?”

A terrible laugh surges free from his throat. The women had to be pretty. The women there with russet or ivory skin, eyes as dark as night, or as warm as the wood that fortified your home with him. Some flirt behind their silks, even with you! You like the outgoing ones. You’ve always loved a strong woman as one yourself.

“Yes. Of course, they are. Why would I sail my men so far for ugly women?” he laughs, and you whop his shoulder, easing back into your chair.

“And all you brought home was a sword.”

“I know my wife. If I was to bring home a sunkissed beauty--” Ivar scrunches his nose up, a wealth of wrinkles bunches at the broad ridge. “You would be jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?”

You snatch his cup from his fingers and chug it down. All in one. He watches a dribble of the liquid dabble down your chin, catching it with his thick finger in one long stroke up your throat to your jaw. You drop the horn upon the table and turn your head toward him, drawing your lips over his lips. You’ve missed the taste of his plush lips, tickled with a bit of salt and booze, despite his growing smile.

“My love, you are always jealous.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm @superwolfchild-fan @punkrocknpearls @flowers-in-your-hayr

[may-fanfic]

Because I love you

summary: you move away to get out of a dangerous situation and nat tries to stay away to keep you safe but she can’t and as a result, bad things happen. 

warnings: kidnapping, implied sex, gun shot, blood

word count: 2,069

rating: 18+

((feel free to send in any request))

pt 2 

masterlist 

--------------

it had been late and you were getting ready to settle down for the night when a loud and rushed knock sounded at your front door.  out of curiosity, you rose from your bed, reaching in your nightstand to get a hold of your pistol which was fully loaded before you approached the door. your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, hesitate because it was so late and you were too tired to fight someone but then another softer knock sounded and a gentle voice spoke up.

“y/n?” you immediately recognized her deep raspy voice causing you to let your guard down, letting out a gentle sigh as you unlocked and pulled the door open. “Jesus Natasha, do you know what time it is?” a smirk tugged at her lips despite the ache in her shoulder. “what? you’re not happy to see me?” her eyes flicked down to your gun but she didn't mention it because she knew what you went through before and she knew that you were trying to lay low since.

she hated herself for coming over and putting you in danger but she wanted you and your help. you set your gun down on the table before looking up at Natasha only now seeing the blood that stained her top. “why is it that you only come to visit when you need help?” you uttered out playfully, carefully taking her hand in yours before guiding her to your kitchen.

Natasha shrugged off her jacket, giving you a full display of the dampness on her t-shirt, sitting down on some chair that she pulled out from your dining table. “maybe this is just an excuse to see you.” she muttered, watching as you set down the first aid kit on the kitchen table. “you don’t have to get shot to come by.” you replied before your hands moved to the hem of her shirt, gently lifting it off despite her groan.

you examined the gunshot wound for a moment declaring that it had only been grazed, a bandage would do the job. you moved quickly to soak some gauze in cleaning solution, smiling up at the spy when she let out a whine.

when you covered the wound, Natasha let out a soft sigh watching as your fingers smoothed out the fabric of the bandaid. “you need to be more careful, nat.” you and Natasha always had this back and forth relationship. it was clear to everyone that you had feelings for each other but each time you tried, something or someone got in the way of it and when you moved away, you told Natasha that she could come with you but Natasha had been adamant that the team needed her so it didn’t work and despite loving the fuck out of her, you knew it’d probably never work and that fact hurt more than anything else.

“just a little deeper and it could’ve killed you.” you sighed out before turning away from the woman. Natasha rocked her jaw side to side for a moment, leaning forward and gripping your wrist, tucking you back into her. “I did come by just want to see you,” Natasha confessed, she knew the wound had been nothing and someone at S.H.I.E.L.D could have easily taken care of it for her but she hadn’t seen you in months, and the idea that something could happen to her and she’d never get to tell you how she felt made her stomach turn.

“I wish you came by more... and under better circumstances.” you sighed lightly, moving your hand out of her hold so you could reach up and brush her straight hair from her face. “I try to stay away so you’re safe, y/n.” you rolled your eyes knowing that if you had been involved with her, you’d never be safe but maybe that was something you could come to terms with because it always felt so right with Natasha and you knew you’d give up your life to experience this for just a moment longer.

“I don’t want to be safe, Natasha. I just want you.” your words filled the air and took nat’s breath away for a moment, staring up at you with so much adoration that it hurt. her hands fell to your hips, caressing the slight gap of skin that had been exposed. “you know I want you too, baby..” her words made your throat feel tight and it had been nearly impossible to swallow.

the few times you and Natasha met up since you moved, it had been arranged at some hotel and you only gotten to spend the night with her, she’d be gone by the morning, leaving a note behind that always told you that she didn’t want to leave you and she wished she hadn’t, you always kept the letters that she wrote.

“I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you,” Natasha spoke quietly, afraid that if she spoke a little too loud, she would ruin the moment but you didn’t think that she could ever ruin anything. it had been so late and you could feel yourself become more and more drained by the second but you were adamant about finishing this conversation with Natasha because despite all the late-night hookups, this is the closest you had ever felt to her and you’d be damned if you let the moment end.

“we’ve known each other for about 5 years now, nat and for about 4 of those years I’ve been in love with you... I don’t think I’ll ever stop so whatever happens to me in the process would be worth it.” Natasha's eyes grew watery but she didn’t want to cry. you knew that Natasha must’ve been in love with you too for just as long and if not, longer because if she wasn’t then why did she always pop back up?

“you’re so stubborn,” she mumbled out, leaning against the palm of your hands when you cupped her cheeks. you hadn’t gotten to reply because Natasha was leaning up to catch your lips in a much-needed kiss. it all felt like second nature to you. the way your lips could meet hers with ease or the way her hands knew right where to touch you.

you knew Natasha had been it for you no matter how hard you tried to stay away or forget that she ever existed. it would be completely impossible. Natasha had been eager as she gripped your thighs and lifted you in ease, blindly leading you into your bedroom. it had been completely dark in your room but when Natasha pulled away to look down at you, you could see her eyes spark in the dark and the way her lips curved into a sweet smile. “I’m always gonna be in love with you,” she uttered out, falling into your parted thighs before crashing her lips against yours. your night hadn’t exactly gone how you expected but you weren’t complaining.

------

the sun shined through your blinds, causing a soft groan to fall past your lips. your blanket perfectly draped over your naked body and you were glad because you knew it was extremely cold in the morning. the moments of the night before had been filling your mind and only one question had been burned into your thoughts. where’s Natasha? you lifted your head to a moment to scan the room but it had been empty and then you searched for a letter or anything but there hadn’t been one insight. you knew Natasha would never leave without explanation, she’d never do that to you but maybe she was in the rush that morning.

“natty?” you called out softly, your voice had been laced with sleep and you waited for a moment but there hadn’t been nothing but silence and it made your cheeks burn with embarrassment because what were you hoping for? “nat?” you tried once more, your voice much more powerful than before. it had been quiet for a second before soft taps sounded on your floor and she gently emerged from the doorframe.

she had her phone to her ear before she whispered that she’d call them back later and you immediately knew it had been Steve searching for her. “what are you doing up so early?” she mumbled softly, tiptoeing over to the bed, falling back into it before she wrapped her arms around you and tugged you back down with her.

“I was looking for you,” you muttered causing Natasha to nuzzle her face into the nape of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. “I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.” she reassured knowing that her track record hadn’t been the best. “what about the mission?” Natasha hummed softly at your question, wrapping her arms even tighter around you. “it can wait.” you rolled your eyes but had been grateful that Natasha was still there with you.

------

Natasha returned to the compound a few days after her call with cap,  begrudgingly leaving you behind, promising that the first chance she got she would come to see you. you hated the fact that you were alone, in an house that now felt far too big for just yourself. you wished life had been normal, you'd dream of spending a normal life with nat.

daily phone calls had now been a thing and promises that felt too empty to hold onto were often whispered. you hated how alone you felt without the girl around but you tried and she tried harder. she understood that she was the main reason the relationship would always have conflicts but she wanted it more than anything and she was determined to make it work.

"I love you," her voice was soft and raspy as she whispered it out, her eyes squeezed shut so she could imagine the expression on your face. "I love you too, natty," you uttered back, and just like that the call was finished and you laid there quietly and very still, hoping that if you laid there long enough you'd eventually fall to sleep.

sleep had been a short-lived dream when a loud thud sounded outside your bedroom. you shot up from the bed, staying glued in your place because someone was definitely in your home. you nervously gripped the gun on your nightstand, cocking it back before you had time to even think of a plan your door was kicked open. you tried to think of something quick, aiming your gun and firing. the sound of the gun never came and when you looked at it, you noticed that it became jammed, it was useless. the men outnumbered you and no matter how much you kicked, punching and screamed, they still injected you with something. it knocked you out cold before you could even process what had happened.

------ Natasha bit at her nail, trying to think of reasons you were yet to pick up her phone. her gut told her that something was very wrong. she had been anxiously trying to rack her head around every possibility that could've happened. her eyes had been glued to the ground, thoughts racing that she hardly noticed when Tony entered.

"what's with the face?" he asked, moving his finger around her face, nat didn't have it in her to keep up her cold demeanor, she immediately broke. "I think something's wrong with y/n," she uttered out, toying with her fingers gently before meeting his gaze. "she hasn't answered my calls in 2 days." she continued, her foot tugging quickly against the marbled floor.

it didn't take much more for Tony to agree that they needed to check on you. so they suited up, flying tony's private jet as close as they could to your house but when they arrived, her fears had been confirmed at the state your house was in and as they ventured through your home. it only got worse. she stared at the bloodstain in the carpet and broken glass, feeling her eyes grow watery and her hands began to shake. Tony tried to comfort her but she couldn't even hear him promise her that they'd find you because one question had been so long and prominent in her head.

where were you?

[the-iceni-bitch]

Who’s Got Their Claws in You My Friend

Pairing: Robert Pronge x hit woman!Reader

Words: Another mobile entry so no fucking clue

Summary: You get the pleasure of working another hit with your favorite colleague.

Warnings: DARK!!!! Dark, dark, dark, please be mindful of all warnings! Violence (m to f, f to m, blood, gore, death), explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, hate fucking, mentions of penetration with a foreign object, spit kink, choking, overstimulation), SMUT!!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: This was totally unplanned! Something just clicked in my brain and I thought, “Y’know what, I’m gonna write a Freezy fic.” Anyway, this is super fucking dark y’all, even darker than the first one, if that’s possible, so if you are one of my soft babies maybe skip it. All you dark hoes are in for a real treat though!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth kitten.” Robert growled as looked down at you, one hand wrapped in your hair and the other squeezing your neck, cutting off your air as he fucked your throat. “Shit, I can feel myself in there. I bet you’re so fucking wet. You gonna cum like a good little whore?”

You whined around his cock as you squeezed your thighs together, your eyes rolling up into your head as you clenched around nothing, arousal soaking your panties and leaking down your thighs. Your clit was throbbing with need as your vision started to go black at the edges.

He hissed as your teeth scraped against his length and you swallowed around him, his cock twitching at the back of your mouth before he shot his load down your throat. His fingers squeezed your neck in a bruising grip as you almost passed out, your cunt fluttering as you came apart from nothing but the feel of his thick seed sliding down your throat.

You almost passed out before he released your neck and backhanded you across the face, his ring raising a cut along your cheekbone. You managed to catch yourself on your forearm before you went sprawling across the alley, wiping the mixture of blood and cum from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

He gave you a wolfish grin as you stood up, tucking himself back into his slacks as he stared at you.

“How do I look?” You said with a grin of your own, blood staining your teeth.

“Fucking terrible.” He muttered. Your cheeks were stained with mascara and tears, and your lipstick was smeared all over your chin. A thin trickle of blood was starting to seep down your face where he had struck you, and the skin around the cut was starting to swell. His handprint on your neck was starting to bruise. “Missing a little something though.”

He took a step towards you and ripped your dress down the front before tearing one of the sleeves loose. You weren’t wearing a bra, and you did your best to cover yourself with the tatters he’d left you with.

“I liked this dress, cocksucker! I’m gonna get you back for this.” You growled at him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled his gun out of his waistband. “Now run.”

You winked at him before sprinting out of the alley, letting out a terrified shriek as he strode after you shaking his head.

You pounded on the door to the townhouse, screaming and crying as you did your best to keep yourself covered with the ruins of your dress.

“Let me in, please!” You wailed, your nails scrabbling on the painted wood of the front door.

A giant man in a police uniform wrenched the door open, cursing when he got a good look at you and ushering you inside quickly.

“Thank you!” You cried, collapsing against his chest with a sob, your voice completely blown out from the abuse you had taken.

“What happened honey?” He said as he ran his hand over your back in a soothing gesture.

“He cornered me in an alley.” You mumbled against his chest as you peeked out to the rest of the house. You saw two more cops in the kitchen, and an asshole in a suit lounging in the living room. “I don’t know how I got away, he said he was going to kill me!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re safe here.” He nodded over his shoulder to the two officers who were coming out of the kitchen now. “O’Dowd, Mangione, go check it out.”

“We’re supposed to stay with the witness, Sarge.” One of them grumbled.

“I think I can handle it. I feel like a rapist running around is a more immediate threat.”

The two officers headed out the front door, shaking their heads.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go with them Sergeant?” You whined, batting your eyelashes at him. “I know I’d feel safer if you were out there looking for him.”

“Someone’s gotta stay here with you, darling. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you alone after what you’ve been through.” He murmured, looking down at you with a warm smile.

“Well, fuck.” You said with a heavy sigh before pulling the knife out from under your skirt and plunging it into the base of his skull. “I hate killing cops. It’s so fucking messy.”

The idiot in the living room cursed and dove off the couch as you wrenched your knife free. He scrambled towards the back door as you followed after him, letting the tatters of your dress pool around your waist.

He just made it to the back door of the kitchen when Pronge burst through it, leveling his silenced pistol at the mark’s head.

“Where ya goin’ Joey?” He said around a smirk as he cocked the pistol. “You don’t seem that happy to see us, rat.”

Joey raised his hands in supplication as he backed away from Robert, and right into your knife. You twisted it against his spine before ripping it out of him and slashing it across his throat.

Robert came to stand next to you as the two of you watched the snitch bleed out on the kitchen floor, tucking his gun back into his pants as he scowled at you.

“This one was supposed to be mine, cunt.” He growled at you.

You just shrugged as you twirled your blade between your fingers. “They said they wanted to send a message, and I feel like a good stabbing says a lot more than a couple of bullets.”

He watched you bend over the body and open its mouth, slicing his tongue out and slapping it on the kitchen table. You grabbed one of the chef’s knives from the counter and plunged it through the center of the thick muscle, pinning it to the table.

“That oughta do it.” You said as you surveyed your handiwork, wiping your own blade on your skirt before tucking it back into the sheath on your thigh.

“You’re sick sweetheart.” He said with a shake of his head, following you out the back as he watched you ass swaying back and forth in your boots.

“Quit sweet talking me.” You said over your shoulder, accepting his jacket he handed you to cover up as you made your way back to his car parked in the alley.

He pinned you against the wall as a group of cop cars sped past. His face was buried in your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply. You smelled like blood and sex and he could feel himself getting hard again as he slotted his knee between your thighs.

“Fuck, kitten.” He growled into your hair as he ground his hips against yours. “I wanna wreck that whore pussy of yours.”

You punched him in the nose as you laughed in his face, making him hiss as he stumbled backwards.

“That’s for my dress, bastard.” You said as you started sauntering towards the alley again.

He wiped his sleeve across his face and winced when it came away bloody. The snarl he let out was absolutely feral as he charged after you.

It only took him a second to catch up to you right as you entered the alleyway, grabbing the hair at the back of your head and slamming your face into the hood of his car.

“You goddamn fucking bitch!” He hissed in your ear as he bent over you, grinding his cock into your ass as you moaned wantonly.

You threw your elbow back and caught him in the ribs, smirking as you felt a crack and he released you with a groan, pressing a palm to his diaphragm.

You turned yourself over and wrapped your hands in the front of his shirt, ripping it open and running your palms over the plains of his chest before bending forward and sinking your teeth into the firm muscle there as you worked to undo his belt. A thin whine emitted from your throat as he gripped your jaw hard and drew your face back, tilting your chin until your neck was bent at a painful angle as you looked into his lust blown eyes.

His other hand dug painfully into your breast as he slotted himself between your thighs, your fingers still working at undoing his pants. You let out a whimper and felt your cunt clench when he slapped your nipple harshly, a new rush of arousal seeping down your thighs from your already soaked panties.

“You gonna be a good little slut for me?” He asked as you finally freed his dick, wrapping your hand around him and swirling your thumb through the precum that had collected on his angry red tip.

“Fuck you Pronge.” You hissed through clenched teeth as you gave his balls a harsh squeeze, making him groan.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, kitten.” He growled as you lined him up at your entrance, running his tip through the slick that had coated your mound. He moved his hand from your breast to tuck under your ass and drew you onto him in one smooth motion, your pussy fluttering around him as he stretched you open. “Goddamn, this cunt is so fucking tight. Squeezing me so good.”

His hips started slamming into you, barely giving you time to adjust to his girth before you devolved into an simpering mess. You both hated and loved the loss of control you felt ever time he fucked you, but the knowledge that you could turn him into a needy, demanding animal always filled you with the heady feeling of power that nothing except killing had ever given you before.

You gripped one of his biceps painfully as your other hand dug into his chest, your fingernails raking across his skin in deep gauges as he kept your head bent at its unnatural angle, his teeth running over your throat as he rutted into you. He nipped at the soft skin of your neck and you felt your pussy clenching around him as he pressed you into him, blood seeping from the wounds you’d left on his chest smearing across your tits as your breath started to hitch.

“That’s my pretty little whore.” He murmured against the shell of your ear as his hips slammed into you. “Lemme feel that cream all over my dick kitten.”

You moaned as your pleasure overtook you, riding its wave as your torso spasmed and rolled underneath his, your cunt fluttering as your released flowed out of you around his cock, making it easier for him to start moving even faster.

“God, I fucking hate you.” You moaned as he fucked you through it, your eyes rolling back as aftershocks vibrated through your core.

“The feelings mutual, bitch.” He said around a grin, turning your head so you were facing him. “Now open your mouth.”

You did as he ordered and he spat into the back of your throat, slamming your jaw closed with a clattering of teeth before ordering to swallow with nothing but a glare. He beamed as he watched your throat constrict before bending to catch your lips with his, sending another shockwave through your body.

His kiss caught you off guard. It was all desperation and need as his teeth pulled at your lips and his tongue slipped between your teeth. You felt the echo of it in your core as he ran his thick muscle over the swell of your bottom lip and you moaned into his mouth before kissing him back with equal fervor.

Another drive of his hips had you cumming again and he let out a snarl as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip, relishing the metallic taste of his blood as it filled your mouth. Your body shook underneath his as your pussy clamped down on him.

You were left breathless as he broke his face away from yours, panting hotly against your cheek before he pulled out of you suddenly, making you whine. Before you had a chance to adjust he was flipping you over and running his hand over the curve of your ass. He slapped his hand against your cunt suddenly and you let out a yelp before he ran his tip over your slit, teasing you with it as his teeth ran over your shoulders.

“This is my pussy now kitten.” He murmured against your skin as he slowly sank into you, grinning at the moan you let out. “I’m gonna fuck her so hard, she’ll never be able to forget me.”

He drew himself out halfway before slamming back into you and you let out a shriek as you came, your legs turning to jelly as his tip kissed your cervix.

“I ever find out you let some other cock anywhere near my pussy,” he growled into your hair as his hand wrapped around your throat, his hips slapping against your ass at a punishing pace. “I’m gonna shoot him in front of you then fuck you with the gun until you beg me to cut your throat.”

You were sobbing with pleasure against the hood of the car when he wrapped his other arm around your front and pinched your clit hard, ripping another orgasm out of you that had your vision turning white as drool leaked over your chin and ran down across his fingers.

“Now,” he hissed at you, his teeth scraping over the shell of your ear as his fingers circled against your overstimulated bud harshly. “You gonna tell me whose pussy this is, or did I fuck your too stupid to talk?”

“Shit!” You screamed as you came again, fighting against your own body as you struggled to keep from blacking out. “Fuck you, it’s yours!”

“That’s my good little cockslut.” He purred against your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up, and you better not fucking spill any of it. I want you to carry me with you for days.”

You felt his cock twitching inside you and let out a shriek as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, his spend shooting into in thick ropes that filled you with warmth. Your body sagged against the hood of the car as your final orgasm rippled through you, shaking your overworked muscles as you struggled to stay conscious.

He stood up over you and let out a groan of satisfaction at the sight of your throbbing cunt brimming with his seed. He scooped up a few errant drops with his fingers and shoved them back inside you, yanking your panties back into place and giving your pussy a pat like a well trained bitch.

You finally caught your breath and turned to glare at him, making him chuckle darkly at you as he wiped his dick clean on your skirt before tucking himself back into his pants.

“You fucking bastard.” You spat at him, seriously considering drawing your knife and stabbing him in the chest.

He seemed to read your mind and caught your wrist, gripping it painfully as he stepped into you.

“That’s enough for tonight kitten.” He growled as he brushed his teeth against your swollen lips. “I can fuck you unconscious tomorrow.”

You hated the grin that spread over your face at the thought.

“Promises, promises.”

A/N: I’m not even a little sorry, hope you enjoyed, ya sluts!!!

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[generous1ty]

46 from Prompt List #2 for Makoto? Preferably where S/O flinches during an argument and genuinely thought he was going to hurt her? Thanks~!

hihi!

i’m not sure if i characterized him right 😳 BAHDJSDKAKD i hope i did though, and that you enjoyed this!!!!

the plot is kinda everywhere too, so apologies for that ;;

thank you for requesting! lots of love. <3

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I’ll Keep You Safe

Angst Prompt 46 with Makoto Naegi!

link to the prompt list!

genre: comfort/angst warnings: gn(fem?)!reader, mentions of guns/gunfire/bullets, general violence, arguments; no insults; yelling(slight caps), light gore(??), no (romantic)relationship established during past events, post-killing game word count: 2.03k

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his voice was so...loud.

“[Y/n], you could have DIED because of your recklessness!” he yelled, brows furrowing in frustration and worry.

did you even understand what you did?

.

.

.

.

.

the Future Foundation was scouting another place taken by despair, and the 14th division was in charge of securing the area. in the small district was Kyoko, you, Makoto, Byakuya and a few others.

however, no one knew that the people of the region was armed with guns.

normally, all power was shut off in cities, which caused any electric-powered appliances to be dead--including the factories that were producing bullets. however, the bastards were making their own ammunition by reusing the bullet shells they had fired previously, and making new shells by hand.

which was terrible for district 14.

you, Makoto and Byakuya had been cornered and scattered away from the rest of the group, hiding behind knocked over cars as you ran to find the people you had split up with,

“Naegi,” Byakuya had pulled out a pistol, cocking the head as it clicked the bullets into place, “take this and get [Y/n] out of here. the rest of the group should be with Kyoko at the northwestern bridge.”

Byakuya threw a spare gun at Makoto, the small brunette hesitant to catch it as his face contorted into a panicked expression, “Togami--!”

“you don’t think we should use guns, i know. i’m not stupid,” he sighed, trying to get a good look at the people on the other side of the street, “but we have no choice. we either get shot or get shot while fighting back. these people aren’t going to listen right now.”

Makoto bit his lip, hands trembling with the pistol in his hand. he grabbed your wrist, making a worried face while looking behind him, running off with you in his sights, “meet up with us later! the alleyway a block away from here loops around, so you should be fine if you go through there!”

his yelling had stopped when Byakuya only gave him a grin, as if he were stupid for not thinking of this outcome. his expression told the smaller man who had you in his grasp, “you can count on it”.

“Makoto! is it okay to leave him alone like that?!” you were trying to keep up with the small boy’s fast pace, “there are so many of them--”

despite your running and protests to go and get Byakuya back, Makoto had the plan to believe in his blonde friend and do his best to keep you safe. you will be safe, he knows you will. he believes in Byakuya to come back, as well. alive.

however, it became a problem when the people of the city had cornered both you and the man. once again, you were both behind a flipped over car, not knowing if the other people would shoot the car to blow up or not.

“Makoto!” you screamed, voice full of worry as your eyes darted towards a person with a crossbow behind him.

Makoto being Makoto, he hadn’t seen or felt any signs of danger despite it being right in front of him, and before he knew it, you had jumped to save him. your arms had wrapped around his head as your upper arm took the blow for him, a cry of pain leaving your lips as the arrow dug into your skin, breaking it as pink leaked from your opened limb.

your arms heavily trembled around him, and as you both fell to the ground his luck had made him shoot the intruder in the leg, the said person falling to the ground with a load groan.

as soon as he registered what had just happened, worry and dread had filled his chest as his eyes widened from your constant moans of pain.

“[Y/N]!”

your body laid on the smaller male’s, mind going blank--body going limp. it was hard to differentiate reality and fiction and whether or not there were two Makotos or one.

the last thing you remembered before blacking out was saying, “tell Byku toooo take it easy on you when he--uhhhh--scoldss you, mmm.”

.

.

.

.

so you supposed after waking up, and telling everyone that you were okay, his reaction was normal for a coworker who survived a killing game with you.

“Naegi, what did i tell you to do?!” you could hear Byakuya’s voice radiate irritation, a hint of anger and worry. it made a proud(smug) feeling swell within your chest.

“i didn’t-- i didn’t see it, Togami! i really didn’t know what--”

“Naegi, i think you need to calm down first,” a calm, cool and chilling voice filled your ears, making your face twitch into a small smile.

the blonde male let out a sigh, and you could hear his footsteps get farther away from the bed you were laying on.

“Togami, where are you going?!”

“i don’t need to deal with your recklessness more than i already have. i’m leaving.”

the door closed shut, though there was an obvious anger in the closing of the door as Togami left. Kirigiri gave a small sigh at the other male’s childish action, gently placing a hand on Naegi’s shoulder.

“don’t pay any mind to Togami,” she told him, noticing your eyes staring at the both of them, “he’s just frustrated--we all are. it hasn’t been long since the killing game ended, and we’re... we’re scared of losing them as much as you are, Naegi.”

the short boy nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact with the tall, purple-haired woman in front of him. he knew everyone was scared, he was scared. he was frustrated he couldn’t help you, he felt helpless for making you protect him instead of him protecting you.

you had... gotten hurt because of him. he could have done so much more to help you, and yet...

“i’ll leave you two alone,” Kirigiri’s voice had interrupted his guilty conscience, and his head had turned around to your laying down body and open eyes, his hazel ones starting to gloss up with tears, “take your time, Naegi.”

soon, the clacking of the detective’s heels had also left the room, the sound of the door sliding shut had noted that, now, both you and Makoto were in the infirmary. alone.

alone... he thought, gulping down the fluids that were wetting the inside of his mouth as he bit his lip and his brows furrowed.

he always liked being with you. you’d produce the fluttering feeling in his stomach that he didn’t mind, or make his heart race with joy and excitement. most times, he could hide the growing heat on his face, his face always flushing a slight pink when around you.

the thought of you two alone had not calmed his invasive feelings, it had only fueled them--making his heart thump with happiness and having his emotions take over his brain.

however, right now, his ever-growing feelings for you was the last thing on his mind, teeth clenching down on each other as he stared at you, obvious worry in the eyes of the short, brown-haired male.

“why...” he was nervous to start anything, just wanting to hold you--mostly to comfort himself and to remind himself that you were okay, but for our well-being as well. he just wanted to reassure you that everything would be okay and that you were...safe now.

“what--” a nervous laugh, “what happened after i passed out..?” you asked, hand going to the bandaged wound on and gently brushing your fingers on it before your hand went towards your head with a playful sigh.

you were nervous. Makoto did not seem happy.

“i-- well-- you--” he let out a quick breath, upset he couldn’t even form a sentence in front of you--he supposed that’s just how upset he was, “after you-- after you passed out, rubble had crushed the person who shot you and i carried you back to the bridge. after meeting up with Kyoko, we had you treated as much as possible before Byakuya arrived and when he did, we got you properly treated here.”

he inhaled slowly, trying to get all the worry nerves out of his body. he couldn’t help it, though-- the fact that he could have lost you...

“but why did you--! why did you do that?! you could have gotten seriously hurt or-- or even worse--” his breathing was irregular and fast, his hands getting clammy as his eyes started to water.

his voice was so...loud.

“[Y/n], you could have DIED because of your recklessness!” he yelled, brows furrowing in frustration and worry.

did you even understand what you did?

if you had died because of him-- if you had died because he was so... ignorant, he wouldn’t live past it, ever. he’s loved you before the killing game, during the killing game and after. how could he... cope with being the reason you had died..?

“and-and... it would have been because of..me....” he cried, voice cracking from the tension in his throat and the large tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

“you’re so..!” he threw his hands up and into his hair, frustration finally taking over as his eyes widened and filled with a conflict of emotions, “IMPULSIVE!”

“...”

“...”

“you flinched...” his voice was weak; small..soft. the tears that had swelled up in his eyes had finally fell.

“Makoto-”

“NO! nonononono, you know i wouldn’t--” he started breathing heavy, full of worry as his arms fell down, approaching you. his small hands cupped your face with gentle, comforting care, “i would never--ever try to hurt you, i’m..” he pressed his lips into a thin line, a frown taking shape, “i’m so sorry...”

your hands rested on top his as you looked up at hims from a sitting position, a small, forgiving smile on your face, “Makoto... it’s fine, really.”

he cursed under his breath, holding you close in his tight embrace. his arms had wrapped around you protectively, shaking just the slightest bit.

he.. didn’t know you’d react like that. although, he wasn’t surprised, since he did know how that felt. when you survive a killing game and all, you don’t know who could...stab your back. both figuratively and literally.

but he-- he never wanted you to think that he would hurt you. he wanted you to trust him and believe in him and love him, like he loved you. for everyone else, it was so hard to believe that someone like Makoto could hurt anybody, but if you... if it was you, he knew it could have been different.

“i’m... i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-- to scare you or make you think i was going to... to..!” he couldn’t even say it, parting from the secure hug as his expression washed over his features.

he was a small, sobbing, hiccuping mess. it would have been cute if you weren’t the cause of it, but you found it endearing that he cared for you so much.

he sniffled, taking the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his face with it, “i’m sorry,” he repeated, guilt washing over him, “you know i--”

your hand had taken the cloth away from his face, lips coming into contact with his. a gentle, warm, fluttering feeling had entered his stomach, face flushing a bright red as he indulged himself in the... the kiss.

his eyes were widened in a flustered shock. frozen and not knowing what to do, he stuttered, “wh-wha-what--what was--”

he was breathless, his unnerving breathing had become a bit more steady as you parted from your touching lips, and his hand had went to touch where your mouth had previously been in disbelief.

he looked at you, and you smiled, “it’s... okay. seriously, i just... need to get used to things being so calm and peaceful. it’s... weird to adapt to things being so.. normal--ish.” you laughed, a nervous smile on your face as he gulped down his words.

he gently held you again, head burying into your neck as he whispered to himself words that you might not hear...

i’ll keep you safe, he told himself, i will definitely...keep you safe.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

[countessofbiscuit]

Right of Bang

a post-Fives fic, feat. Commander Fox’s insecurities

1000 words | Teen | Ao3 . . .

Army admin had a funny sense of timing.

Fox frowned at the blasters, racked and ready for his use, and swore he heard ARC-5555 laugh as he marched beyond the grave.

“Ready to begin, sir?” Corporal June asked, in a plummy Timira City accent that hadn’t had its diction scuffed up. Smooth as his armor — and his just-dropped balls.

“Yes,” Fox replied, congenially as he could.

June cleared his throat. “Take control of one of the weapons, none of which have been under your direct supervision.”

Get back in that turret, trooper. Fox selected the pistol. If he was going to flunk out thanks to a box-ticking joke, better not make it the punch line.

Without being certified current in weapons handling, Jango himself would’ve found the armory doors closed upon him. Didn’t matter that they’d been fondling blasters since decant. Toy and training, of every make and model; one mind, any weapon and all that kark. Every year, twice a year, you had to demonstrate you were capable of operating the damn things.

And, now, there was at least one officer in the GAR who insisted Fox couldn’t.

Measuring his breaths behind his helmet, Fox conspicuously determined the weapon condition for June’s benefit. Chamber clear. Slide forward. Clip empty. No residual energy. Safety on. Still plenty deadly if someone wanted to try and make Fox’s day.

“Load!” June ordered, his voice not quite filling the corners of the range.

Fox unscrewed the chamber and wondered who was feeling more insecure.

The corporal being evaluated on evaluating Rear-Marshal Commander Fox.

Or the commander who’d lied on his last contact report.

The clone who’d flicked from stun to full power without blinking. Without thinking. Who’d put a lethal blast in a brother’s heart and had to convince himself he’d meant to.

And who hadn’t fired a shot since.

Hells, Riyo had probably handled his pistols more since he’d holstered them with hands that threatened to shake. Thoughtless woman. Refused a blaster or instruction, but apparently sashayed around with his in her robe while Fox slept because she was scared.

Slotting the clip, Fox made a mental note to review the overwatch outside her house.

Then he waited, a current of panic tickling his neck.

“Make stun ready!”

Fox went through the motions, deliberately. Safety off. Slide cocked. Stun engaged. Low-ready assumed.

Downrange, about twenty meters at its deepest, the target arc whirred to life. And the featureless holo of a humanoid, rendered by white lasers, flickered before the superconductive backstop.

Fox blinked.

It was random. The targets would cycle through at random, he reminded himself. SBDs, B2s, a grab bag of organics, and ... this thing.

Can’t trust a Corrie. They use whitejobs for target practice.

They didn’t, actually. Not since Kamino.

But Fives manifested just the same. Redundant tattoo and all.

Only thing worse than a soundly functioning ARC was an unstable one with a fully powered weapon. Even General Skywalker had attested to the readiness of his captain’s pistol.

(“‘Cause you didn’t give him a fucking chance.”

“To do what?! Shoot one of my men? Sorry if I don’t give more of a damn. I’ve lost enough of them to the 501st recently.”)

Perversely, Fox was grateful for the furore Rex kicked up. Never was more articulate than when someone mussed his hackles. It directed his choler outwards.

Forget his failing memory. Fox stiffened over his conviction:

Fives signed his own death certificate when he unplugged his failsafe hardware, went berserk on the Chancellor, and sallied out to 79s for a fucking fix. He’d just forced Fox to date and timestamp it for him.

Waiting, Fox stared at his fingers. He demanded them to obey.

The light appeared. The order came.

Fox stunned his mark. Then the next. And every sporadic target that followed, well within the mandated time.

“Stop!” June cried. “Clear the weapon, reload, and adjust to full power.”

Again, Fox demonstrated his proficiency with infoholo staginess.

The almost-Fives reappeared. And on the order, Fox put that shot back in his chest. Just right of center.

Because Commander Fox didn’t miss. He didn’t fuck up or flinch. He fired exactly when and where he meant to. With intention.

Every target got treated to the same heartburn. Even those that Fox knew possessed more than one. He fell into this same flow with the carbine. And the rifle — fuck, he loved the long lines on that thing. Heavy-hitting. Career-ending. Powerfully conclusive with the merest caress of his finger. He field-stripped, clean-stripped, and made them all safe upon command, while the air perfumed with ions. His confidence trickled back though grooves hewn by lifelong practice and fundamental pride, until the exercise was over.

“There you go, sir,” said June, renewing Fox’s licence to kill with a few strokes on his datapad. “In date and competent with the weapons system. Like there was any doubt,” he added cheerfully. His smile bounced so artlessly from his face, Fox couldn’t do anything but catch and throw it back.

“Am I free to congratulate a new skill-at-arms instructor?” Fox addressed the observing sergeant over June’s shoulder, who confirmed that he could.

Boozy with relief, Fox thumped June’s back. “You ever heard of the Den, Corporal?”

“... Yes, sir,” June replied, uncertain. Now truly nervous before a commander known to drop guardsmen for anything, up to and including nothing.

“When this damn lockdown’s lifted, I expect to see you there.” Fox tapped a code into the corporal’s compad. “Locate Lieutenant Rhys in a timely fashion, present that code, and he’ll add you to the guest list.”

June’s smile went positively nuclear. “Thank you, sir.” He clipped to attention, gave a salute to slice ice, and about-assed from the range.

You did right, son.

Fox wasn’t a danger to anyone. Every room was safer for him being there. Including that goddamn warehouse.

Rex would thank him, later. When that baby Senator Amidala was carrying had a father. And when Rex got to hold something he’d never get himself.

. . . . . 

(Ao3)

[queenrose730]

Reckless

Part Three

Master List

About thirty minutes later you heard Steve stand up to join you in the front of the jet. You hadn’t let go of the controls. Opting to manually operate the jet just so you were ready if Tony showed back up. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder a squeezed gently. Silently asking if you were ok.

“We just left them Steve. You know where they are going to put them.”

“I know yn.” He let out a small sigh. There were great odds that your friends were going to be sent to the raft. A prison in the middle of the ocean only reserved for the most dangerous people on the planet. You had been there a few times to help with prisoner transfers and the thought of them being held in those cells made your heart ache.

“Something bad happened back there Steve. Something with Rhodey. On minute he was on my radar then he was gone. I couldn’t make out what Sam was saying.” There was panic in your voice. “Could you make anything out?” You turned your face to Steve.

When he didn’t meet you gaze you knew it was more than bad. You bit back tears. Rhodey may have been fighting against you but he was a close friend too. He taught you how to fly when you first joined the Air Force. Long before Iron Man or the Avengers. Instead of answering Steve just squeezed your shoulder again. You nodded at him before he left to sit back down.

“We are about five minutes out guys. Get ready.”

You decided to land the jet close to the bunker. Steve and Barnes needed to get in there quickly. They didn’t have time to tread through the snow. After landing you joined them in the back of the jet. Barnes had already loaded up his gear and was carrying his machine gun. Both men were talking quietly while looking out the back of the jet. All your gear had already been laid you for you. You weren’t sure which man had done it but it made swapping out your gear for something more deadly quicker. The last step was to reach in the med cabinet for an auto injector for both men and one for you. You placed yours in its respective pocket and turned to Steve.

“Here.” You handed him the injector. “Just in case.” He nodded and you turned to Barnes. “One for you too.”

“That won’t work.”

“It’s dosed for me Bucky. It will work for you too.” Steve assured him.

“What’s in it?” He reached out and grabbed the injector.

“A little pain meds and adrenaline. Just pull the cap off and jam it into your body.” You demonstrated which end he needed to pull. “Make sure you aim for flesh.” You gave him a slight tease. “It won’t be any good if you use it on that metal arm.” He gave a quick smile back before you both turned back to Steve. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m not sure yn.”

“Well I have some ideas.” He looked at you surprised.

“Go ahead.”

“Well if there are five super soldiers in there, I’m not much good. You two go in and deal with them. I’ll take care of whatever or whoever comes out the door.”

“Yn? It’s not like you to pull yourself from a fight.”

“I know Steve. But let’s be real. You would spend more time worrying about me and get distracted. You both need to be focused.” Steve have you a slight nod. “Plus, I’ll be able to warn you if Tony or anyone shows up.”

“Right.” He stood up a little straighter. “You ready Buck?” Barnes gave a quick nod before both men headed down the ramp. You followed behind. Stopping to grab a large coat from a locker. Just before they began the decent to the bunker Steve turned back to you

“Don’t do anything stupid or reckless out here yn.”

“How can I? You’re taking it all with you.” Barnes stopped at your words and looked to Steve quickly. Steve let out a small laugh noticing the look from Barnes. Both turned back around and trudged off in the snow and you climbed on top of the jet to have a better view of the surroundings.

“Yn? You copy me?” Steve sounded concerned. You sat up a little straighter

“Yea, Steve. What’s up?”

“The doors open down here. Be on the lookout. You may not be the only one out there.” Your eyes immediately start to scan the landscape closely

“Copy that Steve. You be careful too. You may not be the only two in there.” You continued to scan the land. Feeling like the hair on every part of your body was standing up.

You heard it before anything. You could recognize the sound to Tony’s suit in your sleep. You rolled off the top of the jet before he could get too close.

“Heads up Steve. Tony’s coming in.” Your words were met with silence. “Fuck.” Stupid and reckless. Steve’s words played over in your mind. You were planning to go in the bunker after Tony. Three against six is better that two against six. You told yourself. You tossed off the coat you were wearing and took off to the bunker before your body could sense the cold.

You slowed down as you reached the door. It was still open from before Steve and Barnes went through. Inside was dark. Barely lit by the reflection of the sun off the snow outside. You scanned the entire room with the machine gun raised. It was empty except for a large door.

“Steve. Can you copy me?” You prayed that he responded. When he didn’t you headed to the large door. It was an elevator. It would ruin the element of your surprise but it looked to be the only way down. You cringed are the sounds of metal being pulled up. It was just too loud for your liking. As the noise grew louder you raised the gun again. If anyone was coming up with the elevator you would be ready. Thankfully it was empty. Carefully you stepped inside and began the dissent. There wasn’t any cover in the elevator, so you kneeled down in the corner. This way you could hopefully get the drop on any one waiting at the bottom. The door opened to an empty hall.

“Steve. Please fucking copy me.” Nothing. Dead air.

Slowly you moved down the hallway. Gun leading the way as you checked every crevice for anyone. Soon enough you heard a voice. You couldn’t make out what was being said, you just followed it deeper into the bunker. The hallway opened up into a large room. Barnes was the first one to catch your eye. He shook his head slightly at you. His face almost urging you to leave. But Steve and Tony were watching something on the screen in front of them. You moved closer to them as you heard a woman calling out from the screen.

“Steve?” He turned back to you. He didn’t react to your presence but closed his eyes then turned back to Tony. You made it close enough to see the final image on the screen. The Winter Soldier pointing a gun at the camera. Your brain finally registered the name the woman had been calling. Howard.

“Did you know?” Tony’s voice was cold.

“I wasn’t sure.” Tony turned to Steve.

“Did you know?!” You could feel the pain and anger in his voice.

“Yes.”

In an instant Tony fired a blast from his hand. Steve was able to deflect but it caused whatever machinery around you to come crashing down. You dodged it and landed on your knees. Quickly you pointed the machine gun at Tony. Taking aim at the back of the Iron Man suits knee. You knew that a few well-placed shots could help disarm the suit. Steve and Tony were locked at each other when you took your shot. Sparks flying from where the bullets made contact. Tony turned and shot other blast over your head causing even more metal to come falling from the ceiling.

“Bucky get out of here. Take yn with you!” He shouted as he re-engaged with Tony. You got back up to your knees and started to take aim at Tony’s other leg. You were stopped by Barnes slamming into you and gabbing your middle.

“Put me the fuck down!” You struggle at his grip but he held tight. Barnes walked over to a control panel at the bottom of a tall silo. He slammed his hand on it and metal started to groan to life. He then began to climb.

“Just stop moving and hang on.” He held on even tighter to you with his flesh arm. You could feel the bruises starting to form on your ribs from his grip. You complied for only a moment before begin to move in his grip again.

“Fuck yn stop!”

“Just let me turn!” He loosens his grip just enough for you to turn so your back was against him. Steve and Tony were still fighting each other but Tony was trying to get to Barnes. You had lost the machine gun sometime after Barnes grabbed you. You reached for a pistol that was still on your hip.

“What the hell are you doing!” Barnes had paused for just a moment to look at you.

“Just keep climbing!” You shouted at him and raised your gun. Trying to be as steady as possible as you dangled from Barnes. You found the right rhythm to move so that your aim could be steady. You took aim at Tony’s shoulder firing several shots. One must have hit because now Tony’s focus was on both of you.

“Shit!” You tried to aim again but Tony was faster. Firing a blast from his hand at the two of you on the wall. Barnes let go just fast enough to avoid the blast but it dropped you both down to a grated metal platform. The metal bit into any skin it could find and the weight of Barnes on top of you made something crack.

“What the fuck was that!” He shouted at you as he stood up. You didn’t pay attention to him because you had already rolled to your stomach aiming the gun again. This time you could get a clean easy shot. Sparks came flying from the base of the Iron man helmet.

“Dammit!” Barnes grabbed you up quickly and jumped to another platform.

You opted now to wrap your arms and legs around him so that he could climb faster. You were almost to the top. You peaked over Barnes should go see Tony aiming a rocket at the two of you.

“Barnes!” The rocket was off. Making contact with the giant metal hatch that had opened at the top. The hatch came crashing back down. Barnes fell on his back letting go of you. The force of the fall caused you to roll off the platform and fall down the silo. You reached out of anything to grab on to. Steve caught you half way down. You screamed in pain when he grabbed your arm. Pulling the shoulder out of socket. In one motion he swung you across to another platform. Tony and Barnes are now falling down the shaft. Steve grabbed on as they fell. The three hit a platform lower than the one you were on and that’s were Barnes stayed. Steve and Tony falling all the to the ground.

“Barnes you good?” You yelled down to him. Trying to reach for your auto injector for some relief from the pain in your shoulder. As you looked down you could see Steve’s shield a few levels down. Barnes was just across from it. He was starting to get up.

“Barnes!” He looked up at you just as you launched yourself off the ledge falling toward him. You actually managed to land somewhat easily on the same platform. Barnes was able to keep you upright from the jump.

You glanced down where Steve and Tony were at. Tony was now on top of Steve. Barnes grabbed you again and launched to the shield then down to the ground. He was up instantly slamming the shield into Tony. You took a second longer to right yourself.

“Steve! The reactor!” Breaking the rector at the center of the suit would be the only way now to stop Tony. You reached for any weapons on your body. The only thing left was a knife in your boot. That didn’t matter though because in a moment of distraction from Steve, Tony was able to let off a stun shot to your chest.

Everything was on fire. Your head spinning. You tired yelling again at Steve but weren’t sure if anything had come out. You couldn’t hear the punches being thrown between the men and you could only make out the flashes from Tony’s weapon in your vision. You closed your eyes against the pain. Willing the world to slow down. You opened your eyes just in time to see a large flash. Barnes fell close to you. You could just make out that his metal arm was gone. Things suddenly started to come back into focus. Steve had Tony pinned to the wall farthest from you. Barnes groaned next to you. You tried to reach out to him but your body was not wanting to move. When you looked back, Steve was now on top of Tony. Shield raised high over his head.

“Steve!” The shield came down. Buried deep into the reactor at Tony’s chest.

Nobody seemed to make a move for a long time. Feeling was finally coming back to the rest of your body. Barnes was starting to move next to you as well.

“Steve. We have to go.” You had pushed yourself up to your knees. Steve pulled the shield from where it was still stuck in the reactor. He walked over to Barnes and helped him up.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you! My father made that shield!” Steve paused in front of you. You had somehow made you way to your feet. The sound the shield made as it landed on the cement was deafening. You could feel tears start in your eyes. Blinking them back you moved to the other side of Barnes and let him lean on you for more support. Carefully the three of you made your way to the elevator.

By the time the three of you reached the metal doors, you were leaning more on Barnes than he was on you. The pain meds you had taken earlier wearing off fast. Your feet stumbled over the threshold of the elevator.

“Are you ok yn.” Steve looked around Barnes to you.

“Yea. Fine.” You sucked in a sharp breath. Trying to put on a brave face.

“She’s lying.”

“Fuck you Barnes.” You pushed yourself off of him to stand up straighter. Your body betrayed you though when you stumbled back, the wall catching you. You let yourself slide down to a sitting position.

“Yn!” Steve was all you could focus on. His hands were on each side of your face.

“Hey Steve.” You smiled weakly. The edges of you vision going black.

tags- @ginger-swag-rapunzel