#and then there's the gun reload in the bottom

[swan2swan]

Sometimes you watch an old cartoon and go "Oh, the Animators WORKED on that shot."

[hoffmansgirl]

��𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙎, 𝙏𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝘿 & 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙒𝙀𝘿 ⎯ father charlie mayhew

⠀⎯⎯⎯ read part one! .. 𝓶illion 𝓭ollar 𝓶an

₊˚⊹౨ৎ 𝓐'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: here it is! finally! i know a lot of people waited for this, so i hope you enjoy. please read the warnings before reading ⎯ this is dirtyyyy as hell. 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. gore · murder · descriptive mentions of crimes & killing · blood(play). like, so much blood · masochism · blasphemy · charlie & reader refer to him as "god" · knife play · blood kink · oral (m!receiving + slight f!receiving) · finger sucking · unprotected piv · choking/breath play · cum eating · a cliffhanger at the end (: 𝘄𝗰. 5299

"Does it matter what tool do we use?", you asked inquisitively, running your fingertips over the cold surface of the chopping knife, as if you were trying to memorise every detail of it. You tilted your head slightly, and Charlie hummed, his hands resting on either side of you as he pressed his chest against your back. His chin rested on the top of your head — he took a deep breath, savouring the moment of silence, the warmness of your body against his; your smell invaded his senses, making his lips curve into a smile.

"This time — no", Charlie retorted, lifting his hand to rest it on top of yours. "But you still have to think this through. You're my smart girl, aren't you?", he run his fingers over the blunt side of the tool, and you nodded vigorously, making the Priest's heart swell with pride. "Tell me. Which one would you choose?".

You nibbled on your bottom lip, your gaze focusing on the tools in front of you.

"Easily, a gun. I would simply shot them in the head", you hesitated, turning towards Charlie, whose chocolate-like eyes were now flickering with adoration. He took a strand of your perfectly curled hair and twirled it around his pointer finger, humming appreciatively, encouraging you to continue. "They will be dead within seconds. No need to massacre their bodies before death. Then, we can use a saw to cut off their limbs. It should cut through the bones pretty easily — at least, that's what you said", you added, the corners of your mouth turning up as you battled your eyelashes at Charlie. He tugged on the strand of hair before cupping your cheek, and you snuggled into his palm, warmness spreading across your body.

"Indeed, love. You've been listening very carefully, learning so quick. Such a good little Angel", he cooed, making your heart flutter in your chest. "Let's get to work then, shall we?".

You nodded in response, and Charlie sent you a filthy, open-mouthed smirk, before leaning down to kiss you just as filthily. Your body responded to his naturally, melting into his warm embrace, your hands resting on his black shirt-covered chest, wishing nothing more but to see his body underneath. But it had to wait, and you knew it — it was hard to control the tingling sensation between your thighs as Charlie's lips brushed against you with such vigor and need, though. Your teeth clicked together as Charlie's hand tangled in your hair, causing a soft whimper to leave your mouth, your tongue rolling over his own messily. "Mmm, later", the priest mumbled lowly, pulling away just slightly — his swollen, wet lips brushed against yours as you stood there, breathing each others air, savouring the moment. The cold air of the basement hit your skin, and you trembled, your eyes snapping open to meet Charlie's gaze.

"Yes. Let's just... get it over with", you whispered softly, and he took a step back, nodding his head towards the counter behind you. You understood what he wanted — you blindly reached for the gun laying on the very edge of the table, reloading it, your every movement precise and slow. Charlie intertwined your fingers together, sending you a smile.

You were convinced everything would be fine as long as the two of you were together.

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand", Charlie's soothing voice reached your ears, filling the silence like the most beautiful song. You hanged your head, closing your eyes for a second, feeling his presence behind you; his cautious eyes following every movement of your steady hands. You passed the needle through the skin of a sex worker's arm, connecting it to torso of another's. You hummed softly as your knees dig into the cold, marble floor —yet, somehow, you loved the pain. You were almost finished sewing the body parts together under Charlie's gaze, as he gave you tips every now and then. You appreciated his work, appreciated how he let you be a part of his plan, appreciated how patient and helpful he was when it came to you and only you.

"I'm so thankful", you mumbled, lifting your eyes just for a second, meeting the Priest's gaze, before focusing on the needle still in your hand. A smile made its way onto your face, covered by a sheer, lacy, black veil, and Charlie's breath hitched at your beauty.

His greedy eyes roamed over your form, kneeling on the floor. You were wearing a long dress that matched the veil gracefully resting on your head.

Your hair fell on your back in cascades, silky and soft, glimmering in the dim, flickering lighting. Your long, fluttering lashes casted long shadows on your cheeks, and your lips were slightly parted as you focused on your task.

Charlie couldn't help the appreciative hum that left his mouth as he circled you, careful not to step on any of the blood pools or the poor people's body parts. "I mean it", your voice came out low and steady as you — yet again — stole him a quick glance. The left corner of your mouth quirked up as you finally finished, putting the needle and string down, admiring your and Charlie's — mostly his — masterpiece with tilted head. "Thank you for letting me help you. Thank you for showing me the world I haven't ever seen before. Thank you for loving me", you muttered slowly, and Charlie stopped in his tracks, now standing right in front of you. You lifted your gaze as his tall form towered over you — his eyes filled with adoration, pride, and the all familiar neediness.

"You make me so proud everyday", he spoke lowly, holding out his hand for you to grab. You slowly got up from your kneeling position, and he pulled you into his warm embrace, never letting go of your bloody hand — he lifted it to his mouth, pressing soft kisses on the back of your hand, humming at the metallic taste invading his senses. Your breath hitched as his lips met your fingers, the fresh blood now covering his mouth — the all familiar sight so erotic, you couldn't help but shudder, tapping two of your fingers against his lower lip delicately. Charlie obeyed, as he always did, taking them into his mouth without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the crimson liquid greedily. A quiet whine left his mouth as his lips closed around your digits, sucking them harshly, his hands now roaming over your lower back. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous, even when you were the one stuffing his mouth with your fingers.

You pushed them further into his mouth before pulling out, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. There was no rush in the way you moved, not even when he walked you back to press you against the wall, not when he pushed himself inside of you so hard it almost hurt — yet you loved every second of the pain. You always did with Charlie.

A breathless praises escaped his mouth as he fucked into you nice and deep, and for a moment, it was just the two of you — in the quietness of the abandoned Church, the corpses on the floor long forgotten as you turned into a babbling mess, surrounded by his powerful embrace. It made you feel powerful, too, as the two of you connected over and over again, a rush of adrenaline running down your spine, fireworks erupting in your stomach as you watched him with hooded eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much", Charlie panted, pressing his forehead against yours as he painted your walls white, holding on to you as if you were going to disappear any second now. You could only smile, brushing your fingers over his cheek, the softness of his skin perfectly matching the delicacy of his soul.

You loved watching Charlie hold his usual evening masses. Not only did he look effortlessly beautiful, but his words — always a little bit too personal and specific — touched your soul. You sat in the darkest corner, your hands folded in prayer as you savoured the moment, trying so hard to focus on his sermon — but everything about him was way too mesmerising. From his perfectly combed hair, to his glimmering eyes, to the way his lips moved as he spoke. The way his long eyelashes casted soft shadows on his cheeks, or the way his Adam's apple moved as he spoke. Your gaze travelled lower — your wide eyes following the way his fingers tightened around the platform as he read the Bible verses to the parishioners.

Your cheeks grew warm, and, as if he could sense your sudden fluster, his eyes scanned over the crowd of people, only to settle on you. Charlie knew he couldn't do much from his spot on the platform, but he felt powerful under your gaze — full of adoration and pride. You bit your lip, winking at him, and he gripped the platform tightly, his voice never shuddering. He sent you a last, lingering gaze before focusing on his work, completely — yet a silent promise of what was about to come lingered in the air between you.

Soon after, he said his goodbyes to the parishioners, turning away to snuff out the candles around the altar. You stayed in your seat, looking for the right moment to approach him as people began to leave. You got up, slowly and deliberately, smoothing out the wrinkles on your black dress, beginning to walk towards him. You knew he could feel your presence when you saw his shoulders relax, as the last person left the church, leaving the two of you alone.

"The sermon was beautiful", you whispered, and Charlie chuckled under his breath, turning towards you. His hands were on you in an instant, warm and comforting on your hips.

"Come on now, Angel", he smirked, tilting his head before leaning down to brush his lips against yours. "You were rather absent. Too busy eye-fucking me to focus on anything else, really".

You grinned, letting your hands trace the outline of his muscles through the thick material of the cassock he was wearing. "Mmm. Maybe. You just look so good. Couldn't help myself", you breathed out, closing your eyes before closing the remaining distance between you and kissing him.

Charlie responded immediately, soft groan leaving his mouth at the taste of you — a taste he missed so much. He pulled you closer, letting you feel his strong body against yours, the growing bulge in his pants brushing against your stomach. You smirked into the kiss, biting his bottom lip with enough force to draw blood. You lapped at the small wound greedily, moaning at the taste — you were convinced nothing could ever taste as good as him. You let Charlie's tongue tangle with your own, allowing him to taste his own blood. His soft groans, along with your occasional whines echoed through the air, your hands now travelling up his back to tangle in his hair.

"Mmm, I missed you", you managed to say between kisses, pushing him back blindly until he fell onto his chair — the very one he sat in during masses. Charlie took his cassock off hurriedly, before grabbing you by your thighs, forcing you to straddle his lap. He wasted no time as he latched his lips on your neck, scraping his teeth against the delicate skin before soothing the sting with his tongue. Your head fell back — your breathless moans filled the air, punctuated by the wet sounds of Charlie's mouth against your skin.

"Every inch of you is made for worship. You're perfect", he muttered, pressing kisses along your jawline as he clutched the lacy material of your dress in his hands. "You're a Goddess. A Divine Being. Made for me, and only me".

Your eyes fluttered shut at his words, and you let them settle in the silence between the two of you — your breathing became heavy as Charlie's lips brushed against your neck, his fingers tracing shapes on your thighs. The cross on the wall behind you caught your attention, but in that moment, there was no Jesus, no shame, no fear; all you could feel was Charlie and the power emanating from him.

"You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water", your melodic, satin like voice filled the silence in Charlie's chamber as he washed the remains of blood from his face with the Holy Water. He swore he could almost feel the burning sensation in the places that the Water reached — as if God was punishing him for his sins. In that moment it didn't matter, though, not when your words reached his ears. He hummed appreciatively, turning towards your kneeling form.

"Very good. Worship Your God with not only words, but also actions". You nodded slowly as he now stood in front of you, with nothing but a white towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Your mouth began to salivate as you watched him, tall and powerful above you, his gaze both demanding and dangerous. Unhesitatingly, you reached for his towel, tugging it down in one, swift movement. Your breath hitched as his cock stood proudly right in front of your face, waiting to be taken care of.

"So pretty", you whispered softly, not sure of he'd even be able to hear — yet he did. He looked down at you with authority, small smile making its way on his lips before he reached down to tug on your hair, clearly inpatient. You fixed your posture, leaning forward, folding your hands, as Charlie slowly began to stroke his cock with his free hand.

A soft moan left his mouth at the contact, as he watched you with hooded eyes; one of his black shirts dangling from your figure, rolled up on your silky thighs. Charlie caught a sneak peek of your collarbones and neck as you hanged your head.

"He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes", he panted lowly, moving his hand over his cock teasingly slow, as he held your hair tightly. Your lashes fluttered as you gazed up at him — the power he had over you in the moment only spurred him on further. "Open up. Wide", he instructed, tugging on your hair, forcing you to lift your head. You obeyed —your tongue lolling out of your mouth, eyes clouded with lust as you looked up for his approval.

There was no rush in his movements as he slowly positioned his leaking cock in front of your awaiting mouth, slapping the tip against your tongue. You hummed as the salty taste of his pre-cum invaded your senses, the smell of Charlie — wood, a strong cologne and a hint of incense — lingering in the air, making the moment even more intimate.

"Just like that, Angel", he smirked widely, his eyes not once leaving yours as he slowly thrusted into your mouth. "Worship your God".

You hollowed your cheeks around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip just like he knew he liked it. Charlie hissed through clenched teeth, tangling his hand in your hair, holding you in place as his hips began to snap into your mouth with force. Your eyes began to water as his tip bruised the back of your throat, your still folded hands trembling as you struggled to breathe.

"You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, on your knees — praying for me", he gasped, and you let out a moan, causing every muscle in his body to clench. He continued to use your mouth, as you slurped down on his cock, saliva mixed with his pre-cum dripping from the sides of your mouth — you weren't afraid of being messy, spurred by the groans leaving his mouth every time your wet, inviting mouth took all of his length in.

Charlie's thumb pressed against your forehead, as he continued to use your mouth, deaf to the desperate moans and gags leaving you. He drew a sign of the cross on your skin, causing a tingling sensation to spread all over your body. You doubled your efforts on his dick, your tongue lapping the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. Charlie whined and pushed you all the way down, forcing his length to rest deep in your throat — your hands flew to his thighs for balance, tears running down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe.

"A holy seed in your mouth, Angel", Charlie panted, his head falling back as he felt your throat convulse around him. "Take me. Take all of me in your pretty little throat — let me take over your body and soul".

All you could do was moan as his hips thrusted against your face one, two, three more times — before he pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips to his pretty, flushed tip. You sticked out your tongue while your hands moved up to close around his cock, jerking him off swiftly.

A few seconds and strokes of your hands later, and the hot spurts of his cum landed on your awaiting tongue, chin and cheeks, his hand on your head tightening as he struggled to stay upright.

"Oh my— Yes, fuck", he grunted desperately, and you smirked, closing your mouth around his tip to swallow every single drop he offered you.

You pulled away a while later, licking your lips, savouring the taste of his godly essence on your tongue. Charlie's chest was heaving with uneven breaths as he pulled you up by your shoulders. Your legs were shaking terribly, sore from the endless kneeling, but the burn in your lower abdomen was stronger than any pain.

"You're a real child of God", Charlie held both of your hands in his as he led you to his bed. Your knees buckled when they hit the bed frame, and you fell back against the sheets, moving up until your head met the pillow. Your hair was scattered around your head like a halo, and Charlie's breath hitched as he stood on the foot of the bed, in all his glory — his cock stood proud in the air, not yet fully satisfied.

You watched with a smile as he moved to grab a knife from his drawer. The bed creaked under Charlie's weight as he slowly moved to tower over you. His hand slid up your chest, slowly and teasingly, before the blunt side of the knife pressed against your — his — shirt-covered collarbone.

The thrill of being at his mercy — even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you — was electrifying, and you couldn't help the gasp that left your mouth at the sensation. Charlie hummed a few lines of a hymn, as his other hand grasped your thigh, his fingers tracing soft circles onto your skin. The blade moved against your chest, and he pressed it in harder, cutting through the black fabric.

"So pure... so special", he whispered, voice filled with adoration as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly. You gasped as the cold air hit your hot skin, when Charlie slowly slid the shirt off your shoulders. Your boobs were now fully exposed to him, and he couldn't help a groan that left his mouth at the sight, his cock pressing between your bodies as he leaned down to brush his lips against the fading "C" on your sternum, that he carved out with his knife a few weeks ago. He knew it'd leave a scar, but that was his purpose — he wanted you to be marked as his for life. He let his tongue trace over the letter, lapping at your skin as if he was starved.

"Therefore, I urge you, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God — this is your true and proper worship", he mumbled, and your back arched off the bed as his mouth closed around your nipple, biting the sensitive bud softly, at which you whined. You tugged on the white sheets with force as he sucked, licked and lapped on your skin, breathless sounds leaving your mouth when the cold blade pressed against your skin yet again.

"Charlie— please", you managed to let out through gritted teeth, and he chuckled lowly — the sound vibrating against your skin, making you shiver.

You were growing impatient as Charlie finally let go of your nipple, his hand closing around your neck as he looked you up and down. "I need you so bad. I don’t want to wait". Your words came out strangled, as you struggled to breathe — due to his thumb now pressing against your pulse point with force.

"Greed is a sin", he tutted, before pressing the sharp edge of the knife into the skin of your hip. Blood was pouring from the little wound as he continued to move the blade down, creating a masterpiece of his own on your skin. He groaned when your blood streamed down your side, covering the sheets under you. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled against him, the pain and pleasure of being so obviously marked by him making you lightheaded.

Relief washed over your body when he was finished, leaving you trembling and crying — yet still, your sick mind was enjoying every second of it.

"Mine", Charlie groaned, before throwing the knife onto the bed and moving down your body to lap at your wounds. He wasn't afraid of being messy with you as he took a deep breath, savouring the smell of you, his tongue cleaning up the mess that he had made. The sting made your body twitch, as his hand left your throat, instead moving down your body to tug at the waistband of your panties. Your hips rose off the mattress, allowing him to do whatever he pleased — and so he did, taking your lace thong off greedily, his tongue still working against your crimson covered skin.

You couldn't take it no more — not when the pressure between your thighs became too much, the tension begging to be taken care of. With all the strength you had left, you tugged on his hair, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. You didn't mind the taste of your own blood on your tongue, moaning into his mouth, as Charlie's hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open when they threatened to close around his hips.

Your blood was smeared all over yours and Charlie's lips, chins and cheeks as you shared a filthy, open mouthed kiss, your tongues rolling over each other. Your hands pressed against his chest, nails digging into his skin as you felt his cock press against your clit. A groan left his mouth when you grinded your hips up, causing his tip to brush against your wet folds.

"God, please— I need your cock, I need it so bad, Charlie", you mumbled, sucking his lower lip into your mouth lewdly. He flipped the two of you over, wasting no time before positioning his cock on your entrance, and you sink down on him with an almost pornographic moan.

Your head tipped back as you grinded down against him, his hands closing on your waist in a bruising grasp. He panted lowly, eyes falling closed as he felt the warmness and wetness of your cunt squeezing him with force.

"Fuck, yeah", Charlie cried out, and you smirked, your eyes half-closed as you watched him tremble beneath you. You reached out for the knife that was long forgotten by him, pressing the flat side against his stomach, watching as his eyes widened.

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being", you chanted, at which a desperate groan left his mouth, urging you on further. You pressed the knife against his sternum, cutting through his skin as if it was paper. You carved out big cross on his skin as you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

"Amen", you whispered, and Charlie'a bottom lip trembled in pain as your fingers digged into the wound, coating your fingers in his blood. You put them in your mouth, moaning obscenely as Charlie's lips began to piston upwards, his tip hitting your cervix every time he bottomed out. Your tongue swirled around your digits, your eyes rolling back into your head at the metallic taste of Charlie's blood coating your tongue.

"You taste so good, my God", you groaned as your fingers left your mouth, and you coated them with yet another layer of the crimson liquid, before tapping them on his bottom lip. He obeyed, digging his fingers into the plush flesh of your thighs, as you pushed your bloody fingers deep into his mouth. He whined pathetically, the movements of his hips slowing as he savoured the taste of himself. You took the lead, watching as his eyes fluttered shut at the invasion in his mouth, your blood covering the lower part of his face — the sight so erotic it made you tremble and grind against him harder.

"Oh, shit— my Goodness", he cried out around your digits, and you chuckled, pulling them out of his mouth, instead putting both of your hands on both sides of him for balance, as you bounced up and down on his thick cock. It felt like he was tearing you apart with how deep he was, incoherent curses leaving your mouth as your hair fell down your sweaty, bloody face. You licked a stripe up his chest, tracing the bloody cross with your tongue, moaning at the taste. Charlie hissed, pushing your head down, urging you not to stop, his hips snapping up to meet yours; his hands on your ass, forcing you to bounce harder.

"Every single piece of you is made for sin", Charlie groaned, spanking your backside once, twice, thrice, until you couldn't breathe. Tears blurred your vision at the pain, but you could just grind harder, the friction of his lower stomach against your clit making you see stars. "You're so filthy. Like a fucking devil", he snarled, and you arched your back as his flat palm landed on your ass cheek yet again.

"Charlie, I'm— I'm gonna cum", you cried out, and he nodded, pulling you flush against his chest, lifting your hips just a little higher in the air — causing his cock to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Your hand closed around Charlie's throat, and he groaned appreciatively when you squeezed, your thumb brushing against the vein on the side of his neck. His cock twitched when he watched you, your lips brushing against his just slightly as you moaned for him — the look of pure pleasure on your face was almost too much for him to handle.

"Fuck, yes— choke me— choke me, just like that", he panted, and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

"Cum with me", you begged, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. Your blood mixed as your tongues swirled together, and you swallowed his breathless moans as he neared his peak.

Charlie's thrusts became sloppy as he lost his rhythm, and as he hit that particular spot in you, you were seeing stars, coming all over him. Your cunt convulsed around his cock, squeezing him so tightly it became hard for him to move as you screamed his name, the hand around his throat tightening. Your orgasm triggered his own. He was grunting profanities under his breath as ropes of his cum filled your womb, causing aftershocks to run down your core.

Charlie flipped you on your back, kissing down your body before reaching your messy, puffy pussy. His cum was leaking out of your spent hole, and his cock twitched yet again at the sight — this time, everything was about you, though. He lowered his head to swirl his tongue against your clit, before lapping up the remains of your mixed releases. He groaned at the taste, and you whined, your legs closing around his head as he devoured you as if you were the last meal he was going to have.

He licked the last, teasing stripe up to your clit before he pulled away, satisfied smile playing on his lips. He kissed the area around the wounds on your stomach before kissing you, letting you taste his and yours release on your tongue.

He quickly deepened the kiss, not yet satisfied — his cock pressed against your stomach, at which you moaned, letting him explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

It was before you heard a soft knock on the door — and whoever was on the other side, didn't wait for a response before barging into the room. Your eyes widened and Charlie pulled away quickly, turning towards the door with an expression you haven't quite seen on him yet — fear. His eyes widened with horror as he saw Sister Megan, holding an article in her hand, her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you, the most devout parishioner, in her favourite Priest's bed — both of you naked and covered in blood. A small smile made its way onto your face as you watched her stumble across the doorway, mumbling a quick "I'm sorry", before disappearing.

"Fuck!", Charlie screamed, and you run your hands over his back, trying to calm him down — as you already had a plan. "I'm dead. I am fucking dead!", he groaned, getting up from the bed, panic clearly visible on his face, his heart racing in his chest.

"Baby, calm down! Just— listen for a moment!", you shouted, shaking his shoulders in order to get him to pay attention. "She's not gonna tell anyone. I promise", your voice grew louder as he began to talk over you. He relaxed slightly at your unbothered expression — he knew you would never lie to him, and you had this incredible ability to calm him down even in the most stressful moments.

"We need to get rid of her", he said, at which you smirked, running your hands over his chest softly.

"Exactly what I'm thinking. But", you chimed, standing on your top toes to kiss him, before continuing. "It can wait. Just trust me. And... we still have some unfinished business to take care of". You looked down on his erect shaft, running your hands down his abs to wrap your hand around him. Charlie groaned, his head tilted back and teeth biting on his bottom lip. You smiled as you felt his heartbeat against your other hand, the connection between you two only getting stronger, better — more powerful.

It was a dangerous game you were playing, but as Charlie pulled you back onto the bed, capturing your lips in a kiss, you had no doubts about the future you and Charlie have ahead of you.

But firstly, you had to get rid of the obstacles — and kill Megan Duvall.

❝ hoffmansgirl © 2024 | do not copy, translate, recreate or plagiarise my content. 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ❞

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[hellsburners]

pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[spookypete-94]

O-

GhostxFem!medic!reader

Reader is a medic that has been assigned to specifically take care of TF141. She learns just how difficult the lieutenant can be.

SFW, CW for- language, more then likely medical inaccuracies

You had worked next to Price shortly a few years after he started. Your impressive skill level always imprinted on him. After he became the Captain, he had sought you out specifically. The risks of the missions he was on he wanted someone he could trust on standby to take care of him and his men if something were to happen. Sure, you knew your way on the battlefield and could do basic operations if needed, but your area of expertise was caring for the injured. It was almost like you were hardwired and made for it, a natural.

Once learning Price had requested you, sought you for so long- it was a no-brainer to join him and his team.

"Ready to meet everyone?" He asked, his voice quiet but still carrying a booming effect.

"Sure am," she you replied, crossing your arms as he led her to his office. Inside stood 3 men. One that wore a blue hat in casual attire, the second one with bright blue eyes and a mohawk, and the other was a large looming man that leaned against the desk face covered with a skull balaclava, dressed all in black.

"Would like you all to meet the team medic, this is Y/N L/N. I sought her specifically for us."

Y/N stuck her hand out to greet everyone, shaking the first two, easily learning their names as Gaz and Soap. The third one, however, did not step forward to shake her hand. One could feel the distrust from his gaze.

Fine, You thought to yourself and instead stood next to the Captain again.

Price explained your duties and how you would be attending missions with them on scene, in your own helicopter, and would respond as needed.

"If I could have dog tags, just to have full name and blood type, I'd appreciate it. Makes it easier for me to log and store blood if needed."

Again, the first two she met and Price complied, handing their dog tags over with ease. The large one never left his stance from the desk, arms crossed, hands never reaching into his shirt.

"Lieutenant," Price said just shy of a scolding manner.

"No worries, Captain, I'll manage." you said, waving it off. Honestly, far from offended, dealing with difficult men your entire career, becoming used to it. Price looked at you, shocked, wondering how you would "deal" with it. Scribbling the information down, your own chicken scratch looking difficult to anyone else who might read it before handing the tags back. "Thanks," you said cheerily, handing the tags back. "Lieutenant," nodding in his direction still being courteous to him. "I'll be in the MedBay updating my records and starting carts for all of your needs. Hope you all have a pleasant day." Nodding, and stepped through the group of men.

Once the door was shut, they all turned to Ghost appalled by his behavior to such a kind woman. "Why ya' gotta be like that, mate?" Soap asked him.

"Don't trust new people," he grumbled, leaving them all to shake their heads.

Time had passed, you had her records all updated and built trust with three of the group she cared for. Not quite with "Skullface" though, as you called him. Being on the team with the TF141, means you still had to qualify on all weapons... leaving you at the mercy of the range with the grumpy Lieutenant as he was the instructor.

His tone came across condescending at the very start. The first weapon he picked was a handgun. He showed how to load and reload the mags, how to place it in the bottom of the guns and forcefully shove up to make sure the mags don't fall out. How to use the iron sights and the difference between red dots, the difference between calibers - things already known by you but dared not say anything wanting to make a point. He handed back the pistol, taking aim, and shortly emptied the clip, hitting the metal target in the center. The ping echoed, target shaking with each bullet. Managing tactical reload, dropping the mag, pulling the full one from your belt, reloading it, and doing the same thing.

"You know how to use a gun?" he asked stunned.

"I do."

"You could have led with that."

"Didn't want to interrupt your whole "spiel, "seeming it's the most you've said to me the entire time I've been here."

Behind him, Price stood smiling, arms crossed as he stood at the front of the range. Game, set, match, he thought to himself comically.

"Can we do shotgun next, or are you gonna break the basics down for me on that, too?" Your tone playing coy, making Ghost shake his head, handing her the shotgun.

The day was over faster than Ghost expected it to be, thinking you would be inexperienced.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that," Ghost said humbly as they picked up the empties.

"Used to it."

This answer caused silence among them both. You took it upon yourself that he was waiting for you to answer why.

"Most men in this field just see me as a nurse. They seem to forget that Medic's have to be battle trained, too. Used to being treated like that."

He turned to look at you. "Shouldn't be a medic, you're better than most of the soldiers I've seen in the field."

"All be it surprised, I'm a better medic, then I am on the battlefield."

"Have to be one hell of a medic then."

"I am." you said confidently, throwing the expended bullet casings into a bucket to be repressed.

How grateful you were, that it ended on a positive note between the two this time.

"Here," he said, going to hand her his dog tags.

"Don't need them any more."

Even though his face was covered, you could tell he was confused by your response.

"Got it taken care of." smiling widely to him, throwing your assigned weapons over your shoulder and heading back to the base.

You had left him preplexed and him watching that smile never leave as your legs carried you away. Satisfaction filling you, knowing you made your mark on him.

"Fuckin' hell," he said quietly to himself.

Inevitably, the day came. Ghost had found himself and Soap injured, Ghost was losing blood rapidly, taking the grunt of whatever exploded. They requested evac but had to wait for an extraction team to get to him. His conscious status was in and out, vaguely remembering you and your squad getting to him and Soap. Your facial features make you seem like you were is glowing, the light being so bright. If he had not seen your ability to be deadly, he would have thought an angel was standing before him from the golden glow.

The next thing he knew, he was on the helicopter, finally coming to. He started to sit up quickly, the sudden alertness making him realize what had just happened

"Sit your ass still," you growled to him.

Even as a threat, your voice calmed him, making him indeed sit still.

"Where's Johnny?"

"Next to you, across the bird behind the curtain, my team got him stitched and wrapped up. Hold still," You said, pulling his arm back to her. He realized you were stitching him, hand holding his arm close. Noticing the IV for fluid and another for blood attached into his other arm. There, he saw a rolling cart with "Skullface" wrote on the top where his name should have been, bags of O- blood inside it.

"My blood type isn't O-," he said, head rolling over to look at her.

"Mine is. It's the universal donor."

Finally, he realized what you meant.

"That's your blood?"

"Yup, been pulling mine off for your cart in case something happened since you wouldn't give me your tags that day."

He was silent for a bit. That was her way of managing... using your own blood to save him. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you."

"Stop. You already apologized. Just be grateful I did what I did and didn't leave you to bleed out." Some men just needed tough love.

Somehow, you had struck him. He was seeing you in a different light once more. How grateful he was for his mask because if it wasn't there.. you would be able to read his face. Adoration and all. He leaned back into the pillow, letting you finish and look him over. Fingers ghosted across his skin as you moved his body to be able to check for whatever it was you were looking for. No resistance was given by him now. You had earned just more than his respect and trust. Just on the ride back to base, you already had him stitched up.

"Still will have to do scans to make sure there is no internal bleeding, but have to do that back at base. I'm glad you're still alive." you said, patting his thigh in an area that you knew was not injured.

"Fuckin' hell," a phrase he found saying all too much with you. Eyes watching your walk away and prepare for landing.

Soap pulled back his curtain, smiling mischievously at Ghost.

"Not a fuckin' word," he grumbled to him, knowing all to well that Soap knew that Ghost had caught feelings for hyou.

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[fandommadnessthings]

Hey have some more RabbitHunt!

I'm gonna call "you" the "Contestant" "hunter" for this one!

Frankie has all the cards in this little game. Bro technically own the game. He can jump insanely high, he's very flexible, he can control the entire park to his will and best of all, he knows this entire place like the back of his red glove!

Only problem is, this isn't some ordinary person. They're a professional!

Somehow, there quick on there feet, very flexible and swift with there movements. They have a sharp eye that can put an eagle to shame! The insane reloading? An absolute national treasure! This Hunter ain't going down without a fight. The law has call upon there best hunter to catch this rabbit. And by gods they will do just that

Frankie, he's absolutely stunned to see that someone has managed to catch up to him quickly then any other unlucky contestants in his show. If it wasn't for the countless of gunshots nearly puncture his body he would've praise them for such skill

What he didn't know is that how much he loves the attention. A single person, who has managed to stood on his level, this rabbit had made a horrible discovery!

He likes this little hunter

The way they chase him, how there eyes fixated only on him and him only, how cool there pose is whenever they shot out a bullet! DEAR GOD!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HIM?!?!

You know those monsterfuckers? Well now it's Frankie's turn! Oh how the tables have turn!

Hunter often just call him bunny or just rabbit. Never his actual name. But you bet his bottom dollar that he wishes they said his name

In a moment he was hiding in some close off space, hunter slowly walking around near the are he's in. Knowing that he's there, they clock there gun to get ready in case he made a surprise attack

"you're running out of places to hide rabbit. And I'm running out of patience."

Yup. This is it. His face has completely flustered. As red as his gloves and bow? Absolutely!

He likes how assertive they are. Hunter got that boss bitch attitude. Saying law stuff while also promising to take him down to justice.

Unbeknown to them, that Frankie wants them to take them down In a different way- oh dear...

This poor rabbit... He needs to focus! But how???

[m00nchildwrites]

pairings: female!reader (first person) x Xavier

tags: romance, eventual smut, based on storyline of game but diverges, little angst and feelings, resolved feelings, fluff, hurt/comfort, injury, these two need to just kiss already, use of her/she/you depend on the pov at the time, reader/MC/you is expressed as female and during smut times will use female-at-birth anatomy terms- she/her, first person when written from "your" pov- use of I/my/mine, referred to as y/n, will have nsfw content mdni- please read with caution, will be tagged, my smut gets ...vivid. Will have content from part of story line, myth cards, and other cards [possibly...probably].

{ch list: 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5 (here)}

Chapter 5: Lumiere

When I arrived in Azure Square, the scope of the situation fully sank in. There was devastation everywhere. It looked post-apocalyptic. The skyscrapers' bottom floors all had their glass blown out like from an explosion, likely the same metaflux explosion that was on set earlier that morning. Broken hologram signs were hanging or scattered on the ground below. Taxis and cars were wrecked, crushed, or on fire. It had all fallen into ruin. People ran around screaming as hordes of Wanderers attacked anything and everything that moved. Otto-bots were smashed to pieces. Explosions shook the ground. It was like when the Deepspace Tunnel first appeared when I was a child. This level of destruction had not taken place in the city since that time.

The chaotic metaflux was spreading like wildfire outwards as though it was being created and pushed further to encompass more territory. It was so thick in the air; it nearly distorted it like heat waves off of pavement in the height of summer. Hunters were already there when I arrived. More and more of my colleagues poured into the square, fighting desperately to contain the horde and their destruction. Others ushered the trapped civilians to safety. 

I immediately got to work. My guns smoked from the amount of firing. I covered countless civilians as they ran, reuniting crying children with mothers and moving so many others to safety. On and on it went, yet it seemed that as quickly as we put them down, more poured in, as though they were just endlessly respawning. Hunters began falling around me one by one, and I could feel myself growing weaker. The continued and constant use of my evol over such a period of time was draining my energy. 

After a particularly nasty fight, my vision blurred and I stumbled, catching myself on an overturned taxi and ducking behind it to catch my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to recombobulate myself. My ears were ringing. But the sounds of battle seemed further away and fewer. 

Perhaps we had made a dent afterall… or maybe the Wanderers were chasing my teammates down elsewhere. I had to pull it together and see for myself. I shook my head in a feeble attempt to shake the blurriness out of my sight. My heart was pounding from the exertion. My body was burning too, from cuts, burns, bruises, and gashes. My uniform would have to be replaced.

I tsked. My head falling back against the metal of the ruined taxi. It was beginning to look like I wouldn’t make it out of here. Like none of us still here would. Surely more teams were on their way. But, would they make it? And where were these Wanderers coming from? No. My uniform was the last thing I needed to worry about. 

I reloaded my guns and, breath returned, stood from my cover and threw myself back into battle. In the distance, I saw a Hunter, a familiar figure, someone that I had worked with before- gone on that team building trip with- collapse. I rushed over- or tried- but a massive Wanderer blocked my path, forcing me to fight it. I tried to get a glimpse of the Hunter, Steve perhaps, to check on them, but by the time I finally defeated the hulking Wanderer, my energy was dangerously low. Steve was no longer on the ground. Someone else must have gotten to them. My vision swimmed.

I knew I had heavy blood loss from all my cuts and gashes. No doubt, that was not helping my light headedness and blurred vision. But it was my heart that hurt the most. With intense pain. My vitals were flashing orange on my watch: “Warning! Hunter, your energy is low! Warning! Hunter, your heart rate is irregular. Please seek out a safe-”

Beep.

“No shit,” I clicked my tongue, shutting off the annoying AI warning voice. I pushed onwards ignoring the warnings to find a safe place or to seek out medical care. People’s lives were in danger. I didn’t have that luxury.

An explosion made me duck as a burning car finally blew up. Today had quickly become a very bad, no good day. I huffed, standing from cover and firing more shots at a Wanderer. It screeched as it disintegrated into metaflux. One more down. Several dozens or more to go. I grit my teeth and pushed on through the pain.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” 

I heard Captain Jenna over my comms. No doubt my vitals were going crazy at HQ. “Captain…” My voice felt weird, garbled to my own ears. That couldn’t be good, surely. 

“It’s likely another Metaflux explosion will…. occur at your… location….Retreat. I repeat…” 

The signal cut in and out. I squinted, pressing the comm to my ear, straining to hear, “Captain? Captain? Can you repeat that?”

“You can’t…. Fighting…. Numbers too…Retreat…”

“Captain?” I hissed at the failed signal as it cut out. I needed to get somewhere where I could get through to HQ. Someone might need help. Using my watch's guidance, I mapped out the best way out. 

I was about to head out when I heard a young girl crying. “Help!” 

My head spun around searching for the crying. There is another child?! 

“Help us!” a woman’s voice called out as well.

There are still people here trapped! I couldn’t just leave them to die. I reloaded and began searching the square trying to stay covered as much as I could until I found them. My vision swam off and on, almost like the world was tilting. Maybe I damaged my inner ear? 

Finally, through smoke and dust, I saw an arm waving from the collapsed cafe at the edge of the Square. I sent the coordinates to any nearby Hunters and HQ, calling for backup to help me dig them out. They were okay, but blocked by the fallen entrance. But in the end, danger found me first.

My watch sensed them first. Three alerts popped up in quick succession as three Wanderers appeared. “Threat level: S.” Figures.

“Get back!” I yelled into the collapsed cafe, “Take cover at the back of the cafe. Can you do that?” I yelled orders to them desperately.

“Yes,” the woman called back, “There is a storage room.”

“Hide in there until backup arrives! I am going to lure them away!” I turned back to the Wanderers and jumped and yelled, waving my arms, “Hey! Hey you giant, stupid, big ugly lugs! Look at me! I’m over here!”

The three loud roars of rage signaled that they got the message.

“Oh shit,” I took off running, three giants pounding the ground in pursuit. Good. They took the bait. Unfortunately, the bait was me. 

As I ran, I felt my belt for how many bullets and clips I had left. My equipment was low. Too low. And my stamina and energy wouldn’t last much longer, but maybe if I could just draw them far enough away from the civilians in the cafe and keep these three busy until help arrived… maybe then the civilians would be safe. Maybe I’d even manage to take one down with me.

I spotted a clearing in the square. It was all the way on the opposite side, far from the civilians. The perfect place for a last stand. 

As I pushed my legs to run faster, I thought of Grandma and Caleb. Maybe I will be seeing them soon? I thought of my teammates and Tara; I hoped they were okay.

I thought of Sylus and his annoying habit of calling me kitten; I’d never admit it but he was growing on me. I’d miss his terrible singing and how he always had my back, no questions asked. I’d even miss his damn gothic chicken.

I thought of Zayne, my childhood and dearest friend currently; he would be devastated and so very mad I didn’t play it safe. I’d miss our meetups for sweets and his sarcastic dry humor and getting him to crack a smile as I sang loudly to songs in the car.

I thought of Rafayel; he would be so heartbroken to lose his favorite bodyguard and adventure buddy. I’d miss his antics and our beach walks and Reddie and trying to guess the song he was humming as he painted until he finally gave up and we’d dance around his studio singing whatever pop tune came to our heads.

Inevitably, as I spun to a stop, guns aimed at the three massive S-class Wanderers coming for me, I thought of Xavier. Of how sweet and peaceful he looked as I last saw him, curled up and sleeping, silver-blonde hair tousled in his sleep. He was gorgeous, painfully so. And I never told him. Never told him what I felt. How my heart skipped and then raced just for him. How his smile was brighter than the sunrise and made me want to spout poetry and listen to love songs. How his gentle touches made heat and longing fill my very being. I thought about how worried he got over me, how protective he was. How he seemed to naturally guard me from harm not because he thought me incapable, but because it was natural, instinctual. I thought of how his face would crumple when he learned that I hadn’t made it this time. Because I wouldn’t. I thought about him and I realized-

I love him.

“Xavier…” a tear slipped down my cheek as I took aim and fired, “I’m sorry.”

 A roar filled my ears and my head whipped sideways. When did that Wanderer get over there?!

And then darkness and pain.

My mind seemed to flicker to the past. A memory. All those years ago to before when I was a child. The smell of smoke was the same. The screams and roars of Wanderers. 

I clutched my gun and fired towards the Wanderers I knew were around me, hovering nearby, waiting to pounce again. The pain-filled roar of one told me I hit one. They were going to crush me. This was it. My mind played out the nightmare from my past like an overlay on top of the present. It was so similar, but different. This time, I wouldn’t make it, would I?

Dazzling light suddenly surged through the dark haze of my failed vision and in my memory. A shockwave of light blasted through the area. The Wanderers had no place to hide. They dissipate into metaflux dust leaving only the echo of their shrill screeches in the air. Even the distant sounds of fighting stopped.

Just how big was that blast of light? My mind felt woozy as my vision came through as dark shadows and shapes. Another slash of light slashed through the darkness of my vision. Golden light filled the air and poured down like rain, washing away filth. I could hear the pops and screeches of more Wanderers further away.

I blinked trying to focus. I struggled, trying to sit up. I saw a beam of light flashing through the golden speckles of light dancing in the air like fireflies. It is headed towards me like a meteor. Space and time itself appeared to distort around the radiant light. I should likely feel worried. The intense beam was headed for me, but I felt only serenity. My arms gave out and I fell backwards. As I fell, my memory flashed back through my mind– my memory of the past event like this one– suddenly it came through clear and vivid.

Arms caught me; Hands cradled my head just before it hit the concrete. I heard voices exclaiming surprise and shock. People no doubt were drawn out by the spectacle of light that sent the Wanderers away. But all I could see was him.

Dazed, I looked up into the face of the one who caught me and held me embraced into their chest. Something about him was familiar. His energy or perhaps his scent? I blinked away the haze, trying to focus. I saw silvery blonde hair… I think?

“Xa-Xavier?” my voice is barely a whisper.

The figure didn’t answer but merely wiped at blood on my face and at the corner of my mouth. Wishful thinking. He isn’t here. Through my blurry vision, all I could see was a warm gaze, profound as a lake but deep and intense with urgency. Then, I saw it. The mask.

“You!” I gasped.

He swept me off my feet as he carried me up into his arms, then we were in the air. The wind blowing past my face. In my exhaustion, my vision started to blur and darken at the edges again. 

“Close your eyes if you're tired,” a soft and warm voice drifted to me through the haze. He cradled my head to his neck as more flashes of radiant light rain down from his blade. I heard cheering from below as the last of the Wanderers were cleared and metaflux fluctuations righted. A glowing moon signalling the user. Lumiere. He had returned, and like 14 years ago, he saved me again.

Sharpness cut through the haze and I gasped in pain. The arm around me tightened. I leaned back to reassure him, but my voice caught in my throat. The pain had cleared my vision. The face before me was crystal clear.

“Xavier?” The pain hit again and I clenched my eyes shut with a hiss. My words cut off and stuck in my throat in exchange for a groan of pain. 

“Sleep,” he spoke, cradling my head back into his neck, “Don’t force yourself to stay awake.” His gloved hand brushed over my eyes, and they closed, heavy, as I relaxed in his arms, my guard relinquished at last. And I slipped into a world of sweet darkness.

-

I came to sometime later. The moon was in the sky. 

“Does it hurt?”

I turned my head and saw Xavier bandaging my hand. 

“I did some first aid,” he continued softly, concern sitting heavy on his brow. “The roads are still a wreck right now. I will take you to the hospital for a thorough examination later when I can get through.”

I turned my head the other way towards the sounds of people talking and crying. They sounded far but close at the same time. It was then I realized that we were on a rooftop. Down below, Azure Square was reduced to ruble. Rescue workers ran around searching for who needed immediate help. People were looking for loved ones. It was a mess. Camera crews and journalists had also arrived, trying to get the latest updates.

Xavier’s small huff of a laugh drew my attention back. His grin was tiny as he looked at me softly in amusement, “Don’t worry. The people in the cafe are safe.” 

My brows smoothed. He knew me so well. I had been wondering about them.

“And there aren’t any other casualties,” his face fell slightly, his hand brushed away a strand of hair from my face, “You’re the only one who is severely injured.”

I studied his face. The contours of it etched into my heart, but now that I am seeing them again, they seem shrouded in unfamiliar shadows. Secrets.

“Why are you here?” I asked at last.

He looked down, away from my gaze, “Who else were you expecting to see?” He deflected my question as he busied himself with my wounds again.

I was tired. Tired of the secrets. I pressed, likely for the first time, I truly pressed, “But how did you get here?” The image of him curled up asleep in that pod flashed in my mind. “Are you okay now?”

“I slept well, so I am fully recovered.”

“How? You practically shut down in the no-hunt zone… Then there was that pod and those syringes-”

He sighed, “You’re the one who needs to be cared for right now.” He gently pushed my shoulder, forcing me to lay back again.

I obeyed with a huff and then winced in pain.

He tsked, a small sigh leaving his mouth as he worried over the bandages he had placed over various wounds. My side seemed to worry him in particular.

I felt the urge to explain how I got so bad, “It was urgent. I had to–”

“I only know that if I had been even a second later, I would’ve lost you. Forever.” Though his tone was flat.

“...No,” I tried to relieve that heaviness that settled on his shoulders, “that’s not- Don’t underestimate me. I’ve always been lucky.” I gently took his hand in mine, “14 years ago, Lumiere saved my life. And this time…” I looked into Xavier’s eyes. “Lumiere saved me again. I must be the luckiest person alive.”

His eyes studied my face, his expression calm aside from the storm of emotions swirling in his gaze. “You might just feel lucky…” he spoke, as his hand reached out to brush dirt from my face, gently, fingers lingering, “But for me, it’s a wonderful blessing.” 

The sounds of the news screens below reach our ears. Lumiere is declared the savior of the day's events and the one who vanquished the Wanderers. It is also suggested that he was the one who cleared up the odd anomaly from a few days ago with the apocalyptic storm. 

I glanced over to Xavier to see his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down. I hated seeing him troubled. And the news wasn’t exactly a good thing. I remembered the wanted posters in the Nest. Lumiere- Xavier could be in danger if anyone found out.

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, “I am sure that news of Lumiere’s return will be all anyone talks about in the morning.” I smiled at him teasingly. He was lost in thought for a moment, then suddenly scooped me up into his lap. I squeaked in alarm and scrambled to wrap my arms around his neck, “Xavier, what the hell?”

He chuckled, holding me to his chest. “We should hurry.”

I blinked, “Why?”

“We need to get to the hospital. Otherwise, everyone will be rushing over after dawn to catch a glimpse of Lumiere.” He hesitated, glancing down at me, “Your doctor…”

“Dr. Zayne?”

He nodded, “You trust him?”

“I’ve known him since we were children.”

“But you trust him.”

“With my life… quite literally,” I grinned, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Xavier’s tense expression didn’t shift as he held my gaze before looking down to the fray below us. His eyes were troubled, and I realized what he was getting at. I held his face between my palms, “Hey, look at me.” I smiled softly as his blue-blue gaze fell back on mine, “Zayne is a good person. He wouldn’t put anyone at risk.”

He frowned, lower lip pouting slightly, “Zayne?”

“Doctor Zayne,” I squished his cheeks slightly grinning at his pout, “but I would never want you to feel uncomfortable. If you can get me close enough, somewhere secret and hidden nearby, I can make it into the hospital myself.”

His pout fell into a flat look, “You’re wheezing.”

“What?”

He leaned his cheek slightly more into my palms, “Your breathing has a slight wheeze to it. I’m not letting you walk anywhere.”

“Xavier, Lumiere is wanted. You can’t be see-”

He shook his head resolutely, “You likely have a broken rib pressing into your lung. Your heart is also erratic.”

“The heart part is nothing.” His gaze darkened deeper into worry at that, but I waved it off trying to ease his stress, “I’m used to that. And I can breathe fine, see?” I tried to take a deep breath and gasped as a sharp pain tore through my rib cage and chest, “F-fuck!” 

Xavier’s eyes went wide, frantic. He called my name, standing. His arms tightened around me, “If you trust your doctor… then I will too.”

“Wha-”

“I will never leave you all alone. Ever,” His voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for debate. Pressing me closer, his lips brushed my forehead, “You might get dizzy. Hold on tight.”

I pressed my face into his neck and let my eyes close, taking in his scent. For a while back there, in the fighting, I was sure that I would never see him again. My arms tightened around him slightly at the thought. Now, though, he had come and saved me. My masked hero, Lumiere. My knight, my prince charming, Xavier. 

I smiled into his neck. Xavier, Thank you. Before I could react, the world around me started to spin again, “Ugh.” 

His chuckle reached my ear, raising goose bumps along my arms as his breath tickled at my ear, “I warned you.”

“Menace,” I hissed, earning another chuckle. 

The world stabilized and we were in a familiar office. I blinked, lifting my head from Xavier’s neck. My bewildered eyes met equally bewildered green eyes from his spot behind his desk. He appeared to have stopped in his movements to collect something. His hair was slightly a mess, showing how busy the hospital was with the attack. He looked frazzled, or as frazzled as Zayne ever looked.

Zayne looked from me to Xavier who still held me. His sharp, analytical eyes taking in Xavier’s clothing and widening just barely as recognition hit him. His eyes narrowed as he looked over my form. His hands clenched at his sides, the temperature dropping in the room as he made to step forward.

Xavier’s voice level but firm cut through the tension, “You are her doctor, yes? Dr. Zayne, correct?”

Zayne gave a slight nod. He looked to me, uncertain, seeking a question with his eyes. When I smiled slightly and waved my fingers in the air, the tension drained out of his stance and he sighed, sounding over my antics already. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “And you are her partner, the Hunter…” He looked Xavier up and down, “or should I call you Lumi-”

“Xavier is his name.” My voice cut in, drawing two pairs of eyes. “Just Xavier, Dr. Zayne,” I repeated. The message clear. This knowledge wouldn’t leave this room. 

Zayne gave a slight shake of his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Very well.” Zayne appeared not entirely happy with the situation. 

Xavier looked down at me with his brows raised, from surprise or what, I wasn’t certain. I gave his shoulder a small squeeze in an awkward hug, I was, afterall, still being held in his arms. It was sort of hard to hug him like this, but my reassurance worked because his face softened as he looked at me.

Zayne let out a sigh and moved to us, “I can take it from here… Xavier. Let me see her.” He reached out to take from Xavier’s arms, who took a half step back. Zayne rose a singular black brow.

I huffed, “Guys, I can walk.”

“Not on my watch.” “I think not.”

I frowned at both of them as they frowned at each other.

“I’m not leaving her,” Xavier declared.

“Xavier…” I sighed, annoyance at the lack of independence leaving me and concern for Xavier taking its place, “You can’t be seen. Lumiere buzz is everywhere and you very obviously,” I flicked his earring, “Are wearing his clothes.”

“No one has ever connected the dots before,” he argued even as he relaxed his hold slightly. I knew I was getting through to him.

“Yes, well, people are stupid,” I scoffed.

“Y/N,” Zayne chidded.

“What! It is true! What is this? A Superman movie? Take off the mask and POOF where’d Lumiere go?” I squeezed Xavier’s face between my palms and turned it towards Zayne, “Look at him and tell me it is not obvious!”

Zayne did in fact eye Xavier before tilting his head slightly and begrudgingly admitting, “Point made.”

I turned back to Xavier’s face, “See?”

Xavier’s eyes wavered. Something deep in those pools of azure rippled with some unknown fear and pain, “I can’t lose you. Not again.” 

The breath in my chest froze as he pinned me with those eyes. I felt the strangest sense of panic, desperation, and longing fill my chest; my arms tightened around his neck slightly, as though afraid if I didn’t hold on, he’d slip away into the stars and be gone from me forever.

“I think,” Zayne’s voice made me jolt suddenly pulling from that odd magnetic pull I had felt, “It would be best for all parties if I took it from here.” He looked to Xavier, who looked solemn. Zayne seemed to regard him differently than he had mere moments before. “Unless, of course, you wish to have all of the hospital and soon the media aware that Lumiere is here and just who he brought… single handedly… personally.” His eyes flicked to me pointedly.

Zayne was right, of course. If anyone found out that the legendary hero Lumiere had brought a woman to the hospital himself, the media would be in a frenzy spinning love stories, and I would be the target for their attention. I knew from Rafayel how much of a nightmare that could be. 

And Xavier knew it too from the way his shoulders slumped as his eyes averted briefly before fixing onto Zayne firmly. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his chin up briefly. His tone was firm, a slight sharp edge to it, “Do you want to get that under control then, Doctor?”

Zayne’s eyes fell to his hands where crystalline shapes had creeped up from his wrists. He looked slightly surprised and chagrined about it. As he shook them slightly, tiny snowflakes fell to the ground, the ice of his evol receding.

“Really, guys,” I interrupted, “I can walk.”

“You have a punctured lung,” Xavier stated matter-of-factly. “And you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ll likely need an infusion.”

Zayne tsked, sweeping in, clearly over my ‘nonsense’ as he called my stubbornness, and gently took me from Xavier’s arms. The crystals were gone, but in their place, he looked absolutely unamused, “How did you manage this?”

I opened my mouth to retort that it was my job when Xavier spoke up.

“She was holding down the Square… single handedly.”

Zayne’s gaze fell to me sharply as mine snapped to Xavier, “Traitor.”

Xavier’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. My eyes narrowed. He looked to Zayne, “You will take care of her until I get back.”

Zayne looked at him as though he was dim, “I will look after her regardless of your return.”

I frowned, Zayne was being even more blunt than usual.

Xavier ignored it and looked back to me, “I will take care of everything. Just recover. I will be here when you get out.”

“What?” He had that look on him, the one he wore on missions, “Xavier? What are you-”

Zayne let out a tired sounding sigh and made for the door, “I trust you can find your way out?” He said to Xavier, but the flash of light behind us signaled Xavier’s exit.

Prying my eyes from the spot Xavier had just left from, I opened my mouth to insist on walking again, but he cut me off as he kicked the door to his office open.

“You have any other interesting friends I should be aware of?”

I scoffed, my head lulling as the tiredness and dizziness set back in as the adrenaline drained out of me. If you only knew. 

“Nurse!” I heard him call out as he began calling out orders to his team. But I had slipped back into the black of unconsciousness. My final thought was on Xavier, and how I had gotten my wish to see him again after all. And I got to see my childhood hero as well. My partner- neighbor- crush was secretly a superhero.

What an odd day.

-

I woke up to the annoyingly familiar sounds of medical machinery beeping. My vision was blurry as I blinked my eyes open, pulling my face from the sterile smelling pillow it was stuck to. My mouth felt like cotton. I smacked slightly trying to get moisture back in. My vision cleared and all I saw was red.

Well, red roses. Lots of red roses in crystal vases with black satin ribbons tied around them dotted around my room on every surface available. Or at least, every surface not filled with bouquets of fire lilies mixed with exotic looking purple, blue and pink flowers sprinkled with white baby’s breath. Those sat in crystal vases of their own. I blinked, sitting up and grabbing a card from each. I opened the red envelope first.

(Translated: Kitten, A little birdy told me that you had gone and gotten yourself  injured playing hero. We really need to have a talk about you and your martyr complex. It is vexing. Be a good kitten and be  patient. Allow yourself to heal. I am a call away if you need me. As for the ones responsible for your injury-  I am on it. Yours Truly, S)

I scoffed out a small laugh, shaking my head as I set the card down and looked at all the roses. I had no doubt before who they came from, but now I knew for sure. His line about the ones responsible made me pause. Did Sylus know who the ones were that were causing those suped-up Wanderers to appear? What was he going to do about it? I made a note to message him when I found my phone.

With a sigh, I moved onto the purple envelope. It had a slightly iridescent sheen to it, making hints of blues and pink shine out in the light. I smiled softly, fingers tracing the shell shaped wax seal. I knew who wrote this one, even before unfolding the expensive feeling paper. The looping hand of the calligraphy inside fit the man who wrote it.

(Translated: Miss Bodyguard, The sunset has lost its magic. The fishes of the reef are complaining so loudly that I am losing sleep– their friend that walked the beaches hasn’t been by and won't be for a while! I had to tell them the news to get them to give me a moment's peace. My inspiration is all dried up like a desert. How could you get so injured like this and leave me all alone to my own defenses? How shall I survive being apart from you? I will shrivel up and die of loneliness like a starfish stranded all alone in too small a tide pool. Will you take responsibility? Who will help me find the perfect shell for my collection? I started a new one, ya know? Got a whole new crystal vase for it and everything. So… you have to get better soon and help me find more shells to keep it company, yeah? You’ve really got to learn to not face things on your own, yeah? These hands aren’t just for painting. You have me, ya know? I’ve heard whispers. Rumors. I do have connections, ya know? I know who let all of those monsters out– the ones that hurt you. The ones responsible will learn- The sea never forgets those that cast offenses against its own. Eternally Yours, Rafayel)

I frowned. What did he mean ‘These hands aren’t just for painting’? Sure, I knew that there was more to Rafayel than most realized; he did have connections to the Nest, but I couldn’t help the worry that filled my heart at his words. His words about the sea never forgetting sounded especially concerning. What in the world was that fish planning?

I needed to get out of here. I needed to get to the bottom of this mess before more people I cared about got hurt. I sat up and began peeling the tape of an I.V. off my arm.

“I highly recommend that you stop doing that.”

My head whipped to the otherside of the bed, the side not filled with flowers by the door. There in a chair looking suspiciously like he had been dozing shortly before now sat Zayne. I eyed the empty coffee cups on the bed tray next to us both and fixed him with an accusatory look, “Have you been here all day? You have to have been busy with the disaster. Go take a break. I will be fine.”

He grunted noncommittally as he stood, reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. He pressed it over my heart, green eyes narrowed with focus as he watched the monitor. It seemed he didn’t trust it to report completely; his shoe tapped on the tile of the hospital room floor along with my pulse as he counted. Satisfied, he finally met my gaze, “Mhm,” he nodded slightly, “And all that night until this morning. Your… partner was quite clear about you being left alone.” His eyes went to the tape I had begun to peel, one brow raising as he fished tape from the pocket of his white coat and fixed it. He looked at me pointedly, “It seems he knows you nearly as well as I do.”

I sat back a bit dazed, “All night and this morning…? How long have I been out?”

Zayne looked at his watch, “Well, the hunter-”

“Xavier.”

“-brought you in at around 7:47pm last night. Roughly… 1.25 hrs after the Square incident was ended-”

“By him.”

“So, that would mean you’ve been here getting the care you needed for about 41.55 hours or 1.73 days, give or take a few minutes.”

“What?” My brain hurt and I could tell he was ticked, whether it was at me or Xavier, that I didn’t know. “Zayne, talk to me like I’m dumb. How long have I been here?”

“You’re not dumb.”

“Let’s pretend I am,” I rubbed a hand over my face, “I have been here for over a day?”

“Almost 42 hours.”

“42-” I stopped and eyed him fiddling with the way my IV laid. My eyes narrowed, “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Wh- Why!?” No wonder he was tissy, “You need rest too! You have to take better care of yourself.”

The glare he leveled at me was almost icy but definitely put out. He picked up my chart and flipped through it: 

“Your rib wasn’t broken, but two were cracked. You likely coughed up blood due to the nasty bite to your tongue, which we found during examination. Your CT scan showed a mild concussion. I concluded that your main injuries were likely from a blunt and heavy force trauma hitting you from the right- something akin to but not exactly like a small compact car colliding with your person- causing the cracked ribs. You had whiplash of the neck to match this idea and a bump on the back of your head as well, likely from the impact and the subsequent landing of your skull to the concrete. You also had a slight sprain of your right ankle and wrist. Your heart was also in tachycardia and very nearly gave the whole heart team on call a very busy night indeed.”

My jaw snapped shut with an audible click and I plopped back on my bed. Pain radiated from my side and I winced, hand going over it to feel bandages.

Zayne clicked his tongue. He set the chart back down and set about fixing the pillow behind my head. He continued, though his tone was less harsh, softer, more worried. I felt awful for how scared he must've been,  “You had to have a total of 24 stitches. Try not to twist they are on your left side. Your Hunter friend, Xavier, was it?” I nodded. “He was correct. You did need an infusion...Two, in fact. One gash hit your intercostal arteries and another cut through a majority of your lumbar arteries branching below your ribs. It is a lot of blood flow, but... " He leaned back, seemingly satisfied with the pillow. His jaw ticked as he added, "Thankfully, no major artery was hit or you would have bled out during the 1.25 hrs that he delayed your care.”

“He didn’t delay my care on purpose,” I sighed feeling tired. Tired of his prickling mood, tired because I knew he was just worried and that made me feel like shit, tired from the emotions of the day before, and tired from the meds I was surely on. “I passed out, but I woke up. He had stopped the bleeding. And I honestly did not feel so bad.”

“I’m sure his… secret identity needing to remain a secret had nothing to do with it,” Zayne’s eye leveled with mine. 

I shook my head, “No. Not at all. It wasn’t until I started trying to move around that we both realized it was worse than we thought, and he immediately insisted on bringing me here, whether he was seen or not. It was me that had to convince him to be careful, otherwise he would’ve teleported us right in the middle of the Emergency Department or the OR itself.” I chuckled a bit at the thought of the nurses exclaiming as Lumiere appeared in a flash of light. I thought back to those last moments when I thought I was about to die. My voice shook slightly, “He saved my life, Zayne. I really thought I was going to die down there at the end.”

Zayne’s hand fell over mine on my blanket. He gave it a small squeeze, “If that is true... then I suppose, I owe him my thanks.”

I chuckled softly, “Whatever for? Saving your most difficult patient?”

“Hn,” he shook his head slightly, “For saving my childhood friend. My... dearest friend.”

I smiled at him at that, giving his hand a squeeze, “We’ve known each other a long time, huh?”

His mouth twitched in a near smile, as though he knew something I didn't. He glanced to the side and chuckled, “It almost feels like eternity.”

I grinned, chuckling softly as well. Curious, I asked, “Hey Zayne?”

“Hm?” He looked back. His expression back to the softer Zayne I usually knew when it was just us.

“What made you want to become a doctor?”

“My father.” His eyes darted to the side however.

“Zaaayne,” I whined playfully and wiggled his hand still in mine, “No, really. Why a heart doctor? Come on. It’s just me. I won't judge you or think it's lame. I promise.”

He sighed, “Very well… Once, when I was over playing with Caleb, I heard your Grandmother talking.” He paused, eyeing me hesitantly before continuing. “You had been sick. Very sick for a while. It was not too long after she brought you home. I’m not sure if you remember.”

“I do.” I had been terribly sick then. So much so that many of my memories were lost.

He nodded, “Well, I heard then that it was your heart making you sick. Then you got better… and I got to know you. But sometimes… sometimes you’d get sick again. Never that bad but bad. Your Grandma always tried to look brave in front of Caleb and me, but we knew. It was then that I decided.”

My eyes widened, “You became a Cardiac Surgeon because of me?”

“Of course,” the green of his eyes looked intense and vivid as he stared back, “I wanted to be the one to save you. Of course I did, for you.”

“Zayne…” I trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. What could you say to something like that?

He tore his eyes away from mine and looked around the room. “Is it really so surprising? You have a way of making me care for you.” His eyes were soft and warm as they met mine again, “It is my honor to be able to help you in this way. If I could do it over, I would do the same.”

My eyes watered and I leaned up, throwing my arms around his neck, "Well that's not lame at all! That's so impossibly sweet."

“Careful,” He said but hugged me gently back. His ears were red.

“You are amazing, Zayne, you know that? I am so, so glad that we reconnected. I wish we never lost touch at all.”

His arms tightened just slightly, “I feel the same.”

I pulled back and couldn’t help the warm smile on my face, “You are such a good friend.”

He blinked a moment and at first I thought I had said something wrong, but then he smiled back, “I will always be here for you. As long as it makes you happy.”

I grinned, “It does.”

He feigned a sigh, “It is settled then. You are stuck with me.”

“Darn it,” I teased.

He chuckled, before looking more serious, “I do have a request.”

“What is it?”

“I… I know it is your job. I understand what it is to have a career that can push you. But I must insist that you not push yourself so far. You were the only hunter to sustain this level and amount of injuries. Everyone else pulled back and allowed a replacement to go in.”

I had to look away from his searching green eyes. The pain in them made a cloud of guilt swell in my gut.

“Why do you have to take such unnecessary risks?” He leaned his elbows on the edge of the bed, “Please. Help me understand.”

“I had planned to find a safe place to go.” My mind replayed the scene. “Captain Jenna was trying to tell me something, but the signal was bad. I was heading out but then I heard them…”

“Who?”

“A Mother and child. They were trapped behind the entrance of a cafe that collapsed.” I shook my head, “I knew I needed help and sent word but then these three huge Wanderers just appeared, almost like out of thin air.”

Zayne brows furrowed, “They didn’t give off a metaflux surge?”

“They did, but it was almost instantaneous with their appearance.”

“That seems… unnatural.”

“I think… it was…” my eyes met his, “I have not made my report yet though. There will have to be an investigation…”

“But you think something or someone caused this?”

“... Yes, I do.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbed his face. “I guess… it is a good thing then.”

“Huh?”

“That Lumiere is back. Or at least, that he came back for this. For you.”

"I don't think it was just for me," face heating, I looked into my lap deep in thought.

Zayne hummed, "Perhaps."

I thought about the odd Wanderers in the Square then earlier on set. And about those guys cornering Xavier in that alley. I frowned. What was going on?

“Promise me that you won't do anything rash,” He caught my gaze, “Let the proper channels do their work. We’ve…both of us…have already lost. Let’s not add to that list.”

My chest panged at that. It was true. Zayne lost Caleb, just as I had. I nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

He smiled a soft smile at that then stood, glancing at his watch, “Well, I suppose I should get started on your paperwork.”

My eyes lit up, “I’m going home!?”

He tutted, “You will be after 8 tonight.” I groaned at that and he shook his head, brow raised, “I only agreed to that because your partner assured me that you would not so much as lift a finger for the next two to three weeks if I released you to his care.”

“You… What?” I blinked, “Two to three weeks!”

“Cracked ribs, Y/N. You Association will determine the exact length, but I have submitted my suggestions as your Doctor,” he reminded me, “Now then, he will be here after 8. Since you are being released I figured that it wouldn’t be too bad if I brought you something to eat.”

“You mean I don’t have to eat hospital food!” I laughed at his huff, “Even you have to admit it is awful.”

“The choices can be… limited.”

I scoffed, “The food tastes like cardboard or salt cakes and there is no in-between.”

That earned a chuckle. He was trying not to grin as he suggested, “Your favorite from the nearby cafe?”

“YES.”

A snort.

I grinned, “You just snorted.”

“... You’re high. It’s the meds.”

“Zayne!”

“Oh look, I’m being paged…”

“Zayne! You are off duty! You’re not even wearing a badge!” I laughed at his retreating figure, “Wait, Zayne! Come back I wont tease you about it! Snorting when you laugh is cute!”

“Just for that, no dessert.”

“You’re evil.”

“Just petty.”

“Zayne!”

This one took me a WHILE. I think it is the longest chapter so far and I almost chopped it in half AGAIN (originally this was part of chapter 4!)

The guys letters gave me trouble. I couldn't figure out how to include their handwriting and really wanted to. IDK how the heck to do code in tumblr, so I just made the letters into images and included translations for those that have a hard time with loopy fonts or that use accommodations. If you still had an issue, let me know and I will help you out by sending the letter text in a different way or something. I want to be inclusive and am open to tips!

I personally loved this chapter. I loved adding more intimate moments between Xavier and "Us". I let "Y/N" have more of a voice and I think I am having more fun with this than I even was before. Hopefully, you all are liking how she is coming across.

This chapter was also a bit of a love letter to Zayne. While he is not my main now, he was way I started playing and will always have a special place in my heart just for him. I hope he wasn't too ooc. Poor Zayne was *stressed* and suspicious for a lot of this. Still, I am comfortable (I think) with how it came out in the end.

Let me know what you all thought of this one! Did you like Sylus and Rafayel's letters? Anything you didn't like? Give me the DEETS.

Tag list:

@xxfaithlynxx @moonsavior @2kyute2poot @yournextdoorhousewitch @sapphoslostkid @ivohex @cherimoyatea @sandy2848582 @adorezhi @animecrazy76

As always, thank you for your support and for reading! Please comment to be added to the list!

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - VIII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics Wick pics midjourney art from pinterest, OP unknown

8. confess your sins

Before Wick can react John hits him with some kind of spell that knocks him off his feet, shatters two windows, and breaks the mental hold that had mind-fucked you so completely. 

You freeze with shock–John has to grab your arm, wrenching you towards the door. “Wait! What are you doing?!” 

“Saving you, obviously!” he snarls back, taking the stairs two at a time. 

The unholy growl that emanates from the upstairs apartment sets your hair on end. 

“But he didn’t come here to hurt us!”

“Then what was all that blood on the floor? It tripped the alarm in my wards–God, I thought he was killing you!” 

You are shouting all this at each other as you are running down, down, down. Constantine does not go for the exit, but seems to have another destination in mind. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Beeman’s reloading my shells!” You don’t know what that means–does it have to do with that weird steampunk shotgun? “I hope he finished the dhampir loads,” John mutters, pulling you along through the machinery under the bowling alley that looms like mechanical spiders. It’s eerie down in the basement, dark and quiet. 

“Beeman!” John shouts. “I’ve got a situation!”

There’s no answer. 

“Beeman!” 

The quiet of the subterranean level is broken by the sound of soft footfalls. Wick, stalking you both in the dark. 

All manners of weird and wonderful things hang from the ceiling. Jars and baskets filled with raw ingredients from all around the world. You round a corner to find John standing by a long and cluttered workbench. Beeman is nowhere to be found. 

With a clenched jaw John searches the work table, hefting the gun from the night before and loading it with sharp, precise movements, shoving home golden canisters inscribed with ancient runes and occult symbols. 

“Constantine!” 

You turn with horror to find the looming silhouette of Wick standing at the end of the dark aisle with his feet spread, the naked blade of his sword glinting silver in the low light. Those eyes glow such an unearthly blue, dancing like lightning. He is magnificent, terrible to behold, and you are as captivated as you are terrified. 

“You always bring a knife to a gunfight?” taunts John from behind you, the shotgun shouldered. 

“I want the pleasure of cutting you into pieces,” answers Wick in a tone that sends a chill down your spine. You believe him, and this is not good. 

“Please,” you say, putting up your hands and daring to step between them. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Both men snort in answer to that. 

“Step aside, y/n,” says Wick, like he expects to be obeyed.  

“No.” 

“Let the man answer for himself. I’ll make it quick for you. A mercy killing.” 

“No,” you refuse again, standing your ground. You take a step towards him. “He just thought you were hurting me.” 

“I was hurting you? In that rat’s nest up there that reeks of your tears?”

 “That doesn’t…matter.” 

“It matters to me,” Wick states, and as unhinged as that is…it kindles some small, completely unhelpful warmth in you. 

Perhaps foolishly, you take another step. “If you hurt him I’ll never forgive you,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it from the bottom of your heart. 

“Never is a long time, malyshka. Someday you’ll thank me for setting you free.” 

“No.” 

“Move,” he growls again, and you rack your brains for something to offer this maniac that might get through to him. 

“I’ll come visit you in New York,” you say, your tongue dry in your mouth, fear trilling down your spine. “But only if you calm down.” 

As it turns out, this was probably the only thing you could have said to get through to him in this state. He tilts his head, considering it, and the neon brightness of his eyes dampers to glowing cerulean blue. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“If you promise not to hurt him. Ever.” 

“What?” protests Constantine from behind you. “No! Y/n, he’s crazy!”

 Wick turns the blade in his hand, considering your offer over the apparent delight it would be to quarter John Constantine. You guess these two must have a history you have no idea about–this much bad feeling can’t be coming over you. 

“Breaking a deal with me is a bad idea, vampling,” the dhampir warns. 

“Likewise…dude,” you retort, as though you could offer even half the consequences this man could wreak. But your bravado inspires a slight curl of lips from him. You can just see it, in the dampered glow of his eyes. 

“Very well.” He sheathes the katana down his back. “When my business here is finished, you will come with me.” He steps towards you, and now John puts himself in front of you, the gun still raised. 

“I’m not agreeing to this deal. She has no idea what she’s getting into with you.”

You see Wick bristle, ready to go to war again, and you reach for John’s arm. He tries to resist you, but he forgets that you are actually stronger than him, and you force him to lower the gun. 

“You didn’t want me anyway, John. What do you care?” You don’t mean to sound so petulant about it, but it’s been a rough month, and it all comes out in those last four words.  

The demon hunter looks down at you like you’ve grown a third head with those soulful dark eyes held wide, his teeth grinding, utterly furious. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him, maybe ever. And maybe you’re the one with the preternatural strength and speed, but you never see it coming, when he grabs you by the neck, and his mouth crashes over yours.  

[simstorian-blog]

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size:  30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2  (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[meiluu]

“Touch Her, and I’ll Kill You”

Leon S. Kennedy/ AFAB!Reader [no gendered pronouns, if there are let me know so I can fix it :D] cw: SMUT 18+, blood & gore, Leon goes feral, protective Leon, Plaga!Leon. Terms you may not be familiar with and their meanings: Round- the entire bullet and its casing, the bullet is the tip and the casing is the metal that surrounds it and holds gun powder which allows for the bullet to travel when the gun powder is ignited. Magazine- the term for rounds that are incased in either a type of metal or hard plastic and feed into a handgun or a rifle from the bottom. It is not the same as a ‘clip’.

not edited

Leon pov.

Leon was beyond pissed, this mission to save the presidents' daughter had gone from bad to fucking horrible. He was lucky enough to have another agent along with him, you. Someone who Leon cared for-trusted and you had been separated from him and Ashley. And he was losing what last bit of sanity he had left, he knew that you were strong, capable and so smart. All logic pointed to you being able to hold your own until they were able to find you, or until you found them. But Leon's heart was overruling his brain, taking full control, as his mind was in overdrive as it pushed each of his senses and his knowledge to try and find you. And all of this was pushed into the extremes now because of Leon being infected with the Las Plaga.

Saddler wished he could control the lethality that Leon possessed but the Plaga that he had been infected with seemed wholly under Leon's control and wouldn't respond to his commands.

With his guns at the ready, knife sharp enough to cut through anything, Leon was prepared to go to hell and back to get you. Having heard some spanish grumbles from one of the infected villagers giving him a much needed lead to find you. The chill air of the night nipping at his arms, the darkness of the night keeping him concealed as he made his way to a decrepit building. Turning back to make sure that Ashley was still in the secure spot he left her in- satisfied that she wasn't following him, he continued onward. Gun at the ready as he silently made his way into the building, once inside he made quick work of scanning his surroundings seeing no infecteds around, he moved further in. Footsteps light, measured breathing as Leon moved with a purpose, but that all falters when he hears your enraged cry.

There are hundreds if not thousands of stories out there that talk about feeling so angry that you see red. Stories of people blacking out as they fight whoever it was that threatened them or someone they cared about. That was not the case here. Leon has never felt so focused than now, as he ran to the sound of your cry. Reaching a room with dozens of infecteds along with a grotesque monster trying to give you the las plaga. What was only a few seconds, felt like an eternity in Leon's mind. His vision had completely zeroed in on the monster in front of you, his mind coming up with the perfect way to get you out and kill everything within this room. Then he was moving.

Firing off three rounds into the monster, in its faltered state it let go of you, letting you fall to the hard floor below you. Running towards you in long strides, Leon grabs your arm flinging you behind him- sliding you across the floor towards the entranceway of the room. Unnatural strength that only the las plaga could give him, using every facet to his advantage.

By the time the creature had gained it bearings Leon was right in its face, grabbing onto the creatures deformed face- bringing it down to ground. Smashing its skull into the concrete floor, its dark red blood splattering onto the ground and onto him. Raising his head he saw the swarm of infecteds running towards him- quickly aiming his sights onto the closest ones. Seven more rounds leave his gun, seven infected fall to the ground with 9mm holes through their skulls. Hearing the click of an empty magazine, with not enough time to reload Leon's holstering his gun and grabbing his knife. With an infected near inches from his face, he's stabbing the knife into its skull- a satisfied squelch greets Leon's ears. Its face falls as the life in its eyes is smothered out. Retching his knife from the skull, he's swinging wide cutting another infected’s neck-nearly taking its head off its shoulders. Both of their bodies crumbled to the ground- but there are more headed his way.

Eyes that no longer held that sky blue color but instead were a red crimson with black veins standing out against his skin that became more prominent as he fought. With the last infected slumping to the ground with its decapitated head being carelessly flung to the floor. Breathing hard, shoulders rising in falling as Leon gains control over his breathing again. Satisfied that there was no more threats within the room he's turning back to where you were still sat near the entrance. Your face was marred with a shocked expression, a mix of fear and awe at what you had just witnessed. "Are you ok?" Leon's voice is husky with exertion, your eyes meet his as you nod your head. With quick long strides Leon closes the distance between you two.

Picking you up from the floor like you weighed nothing bringing you into his embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck inhaling your mouth-watering scent. Letting it ground him, he had found you and you were okay. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, he felt your arms hesitantly wrap around his shoulders. "I'm okay, Leon. Are you?" your voice was nervous. Not that you didn't secretly relish with the embrace from someone who you had been crushing on for awhile but after what you saw you were a bit afraid of pushing him too far. Though somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Leon would never hurt you- even with the plaga, within him. "Yes." a short and gruff reply was all you got from him.

"Where's Ashley?"

"Safe."

"Ok, lets go meet back up with her so we can get you both help."

"No."

"Leon-" unable to finish as Leon warm tongue is licking a long stripe from the base of your neck to the spot right below your ear. "You smell so good, we don't have to leave now." his voice is smooth and full of desire. "But we-" a soft gasp interrupts you, as Leon gently bites into the sensitive skin of your neck. “Let me have you.” His words are rough as he says them into your skin. Your mind blanks, there’s no way this is happening right now! “Leon- right here?!”

“Yes here, now.” No hesitation to be found in his proclamation. Maybe it was the fact that his scent was overwhelming your senses or maybe it was the fact that you’ve dreamed about being with him (maybe not like this). Whatever the case your mind was giving into his advances just like your body had already surrendered to him. Not that there was really ever a want to ‘fight’.

“Ok, but what if someone comes in here?"

“I’ll hear them before they get that close to us.” So assured of himself, no room for doubt. But you never had reason to doubt him and his capabilities.

And with some of your worries eased Leon is lifting his head from your neck. Locking his gaze with yours, his once beautiful baby blue orbs are a vicious red with black veins to accentuate them. You knew this was because of the plaga but it seemed that he had full control over himself- unlike the other people who were infected. But your thoughts are halted by his soft lips claiming yours.

Eyes fluttering shut at the sweetness of his taste, a gentle dance that quickly turns heavy as Leon nips at your bottom lip- pushing in his tongue to dance with yours. A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through Leon's chest, the intoxicating taste of you has his body burning with need. Pulling you both down onto the hard floor, lips still locked together- soft gasps of air echoing out in the space around you. Your hands are running through Leon's soft blond locks as his hands drift down. Rubbing his thumbs over your pebbling nipples eliciting a whimper from your swollen lips, hands leaving a fiery trail down towards your navel but then he is pulling his hands away from you. A pathetic sound leaves your lips at the lose of his warmth but you are quick to shut up when your eyes catch onto his teeth pulling off his gloves from his hands, discarding them like trash.

And as quickly as those gloves where thrown away are his hand back onto you, pulling up your shirt, his calloused hands caress the soft flesh of your navel. One hand travel up back to your left breast as the other dips below the waist of your pants going straight to your neglected clit. "Leon." a breathy moan of his name leaves you as he begins to swirl your clit with his thumb while two of his fingers work you open- stretching you out. The hand that had been massaging your breast retreats from under your shirt as it goes to unstrap your leather harness where your empty gun rests in. Clattering to the ground Leon pulls your shirt off of you- freeing your tits. Leaving your mouth his head is headed down taking a perked nipple into his warm mouth- swirling his tongue and softly nipping at it. Making sure not abandon the other nipple as he gives the same treatment to it.

With all of his combined menstruations your already close to your peak, fingers diligently pumping into you at a stead pace, clit buzzing in ecstasy while your chest radiates pleasured tingles throughout your body. Mouth hanging open to allow all your noises of pleasure to run free, but before you can reach that blinding peak Leon is harshly removing himself from you. A cry leaves you, you were so close, eyes raising from where they had been watching Leon worship your breasts. Now your eyes are watching Leon as he sits up on his knees, undoing his belt nearly ripping it in half. Then shoving his pants down along with his boxers- freeing his cock. Precum dibbles down the angry tip- weeping in anticipation. His hands soon find your pants yanking them down and off of you along with your drenched panties.

Your arousal hits Leon at full force now that there was no barriers between your cunt and him. Every basic instinct within him coiled with his care for you and then amplified by the plaga had turned him to a much more raw version of himself. This, what he was doing to you, was something so much more than just fuckin someone who he cared about or found attractive. (Both of those things were true). He needed you like he needed air, you had always balanced him out and you both were always so in sync with one another. Maybe it was the plaga within his veins, but at the end of the day, in the back of Leon's mind he knew all of this was true. He needed to fuck you so that you knew how much he needed you- in his plaga riddled mind combined with the past adrenaline of trying to find you and nearly going insane without you beside him- it made perfect sense to him. You were his just like how he was yours, wholly and completely yours.

He killed for you and would do it again without hesitation, he would search to the ends of the earth to find you if you became lost. And so, warm and calloused hands pulled you to him- no space left between- cock bumping against your clit and then was pushed into your wet heat. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the fullness, something you hadn't experience before. His pelvis meeting yours, hilt buried deep within you, he had reached heaven and nothing could ever compare to this feeling of being in your embrace. Grabbing your legs and placing them upon his shoulders, leaning down until his face was right above yours- with his hands now down below at the base of your spine lifting you up for him to fuck into as deep as possible.

Rough and deep was the pace Leon set, your moans unashamedly are cried out into the air around you. Not like you had a chance to smother your noises- how could you when he was hitting the inner most parts of you? With the tip of his cock bruising your g-spot as it sweetly kissed your cervix.

He was utterly ruining you, nothing would ever top this, you could never fuck anyone else without thinking of him. But would you want to fuck anyone else besides him? No, he was so perfect, the two of you fit each other so well why would you want anything else?

Deep groans mixed with husky moans tumble from his beautiful mouth, hypnotizing you in their melody. Your mind was dripping out of your ears to make room for the mind-numbing pleasure his cock was giving you. Every vein and ridge massaging your walls just right, the girth stretching you out to near pain and his length was able to mold you into the perfect cocksleeve for him. "Fuck-Fuck," Leon's words are rough with exertion, but he never once slowed down his pace.

Skin slapping against skin, the lovely sound of your cunt squelching with ever thrust of his cock into you, all in tandem with his full balls hitting your ass. Your peaking is coiling tight within your belly, and it snaps before you can even voice it to Leon, cunt erratically spasming around him milking him for his own release. With a couple more thrust Leon is burying himself as deep as he can get, as his balls tighten, releasing every drop of cum within your warm cunt. Pants leave him as you both try to come down from that earth shattering orgasm. And just as you think Leon's going to pull out of you he's turning you onto your stomach, leaning over you- shadowing your body with his- as he starts fucking with just as much vigor as before.

"Leon!"

"I'm not done with you yet-"

Mind going hazy with pleasure as your cunt lovingly continues to suck in his cock- obviously on the same page with Leon. You needed more and he was going to deliver on that. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped that Ashley was safe, where ever she was because you and Leon would be here for a long while.

*hehe i've cooking this one for awhile, hopefully y'all enjoy it >:) *

[bonezone44]

'Burdens' (21+) part one

eventual Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Fem!Reader x Dave York

Summary: You're arrival into the lives of Dave and Frankie is unexpected, to say the least. word count: 1k tags: murder-for-hire shenanigans, injured P-boys, no smut in this chapter. eventual threesome? bitch, u know it!

A/N: In an effort to boost my creative momentum, I'm posting shorter chapters for some random WIPs I've got happening. here's one of them that was very much inspired by @xdaddysprincessxx's story 'Princess Treatment.'

“This is not what I signed up for.”

“You keep saying that, Frankie, and yet you keep signing up for this shit,” Dave groused, one hand strong on the steering wheel while the other drained blood. Today was the day his bad arm became his worse arm.

“Well, I just think it's important to share my feelings on this shit-show of a situation.” Frankie reloaded his pistol quickly, slamming the cartridge back in his gun. 

Dave huffed through his nose. “Consider your feelings noted.” 

He liked Frankie, truly. 

After losing Ari and Reznik, Dave was ready to start going it alone. But Kovak had made an impassioned plea for him to stay. Said he had made a friend in his Narcotics Anonymous group. A friend that might be interested in picking up work. A friend that needed the structure and purpose that Dave offered. Kovak knew how to play to Dave’s ego and Dave let him. It gave Dave purpose and a reason to have structure. 

Damn. 

Dave was really gonna miss that guy.

Frankie hissed, adjusting in the passenger seat. If he couldn’t see it with his own two eyes, he would think his right foot wasn’t his foot anymore and had turned into a heavy, pulsing cement block tugging at the bottom of his leg. Blood pooled in his boot. Sweat dripped down his curls, soaking into an already sweat-soaked shirt-collar. His eyes flicked between the dimming, bumpy dirt road ahead of them and the vehicle’s mirrors. “Who called the fuckin’ cops is what I wanna know,” he griped, tapping the dashboard with an angry finger. “A-a-and why would the fuckin’ cops show up, anyway? That was a fuckin’ sovereign-ass milita. Who the hell protects their own goddamn enemy?”

Dave sighed. “They weren’t exactly enemies. The cops were the ones selling them all those military-grade weapons. They were protecting their source of income.” He shrugged with a wince. “That’s all.”

“What?” Frankie snorted. “Why would the fuckin’ cops in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere have access to all that shit? That’s war-shit, man.”

“Yeah, well, what do you think happens to all that war-shit when the military’s done with it? When our guys get better, upgraded war-shit?”

“I-I don’t know, man. Don’t they break that shit down for parts and sell it back to the guys makin’ it?”

“Some of it,” said Dave. “But when the upgrades are coming out faster than the old stuff can be broken down, all that extra war-shit’s gotta go somewhere. Some of it gets sold to our allies. Some of it gets spread out right here.”

Frankie shook his head. “That’s fucked up, man.” He huffed. “Cops don’t need to be havin’ access to that shit. They’re not fightin other militaries, man. They’re not s’posed to be fightin at all. They’re s’posed to be protecting people. Leave all that fightin-shit to us, man. What the hell’re they doin’ playin’ war with fuckin civilians?” He gritted his teeth and finally holstered his gun. “I mean, goddamn.”

“Yeah, well. It is how it is.” Dave wasn’t sure why Frankie didn't already know all this information. Maybe it was denial, maybe it was all the drugs he’d done. Maybe Frankie didn’t pay attention to the bigger picture. Didn’t want to or didn’t have to. The less Frankie knew, the better, Dave surmised. For someone so efficient and capable, the guy could really get caught up in his own despair. Dave understood why a guy like that would need someone like him.

“Fuck, man. I need to elevate this,” said Frankie tugging on his leg. “Think ‘m gonna try to get in the back seat.” He twisted around to judge the space and figure out exactly how to go about doing that when he looked down and saw something was already in the back seat. Something lumpy beneath a black felt blanket. He pulled out his gun–causing a concerning glance from Dave. He gripped the fabric in his hand and yanked it upward revealing ... you.

You winced at the sight of his gun.

“Holy shit,” muttered Frankie.

Dave turned around to see you, bleary-eyed with duct tape on your mouth. Your hands were tied behind your back and despite the cool weather, you were wearing a t-shirt and denim shorts. 

“You said you checked the jeep.” Dave gritted his teeth. His nostrils flaring. His eyes turned back to the road.

“I-I did check the jeep.” Frankie blinked.

“Then why is there a woman tied up in the back seat, Frankie?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Dave shook his head and groaned. “Then shoot her and toss her out.”

You shrieked beneath the duct tape. Fat tears poured from your eyes. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably.

“Shit, man.” Frankie lifted the blanket from over your legs. “You made her piss herself.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “There’s a ravine in two miles. We can dump her body there. Shoot her.”

Frankie chewed his lips as his eyes ran up and down your body.   “... What if we just… untie her and let her go?”

Dave grimaced. “We’re in the middle of the woods. Shooting her saves her the pain and suffering of dying from exposure.” Dave slapped the steering wheel. “Shoot her.”

You begged the man in the passenger seat with all your heart and soul–praying your eyes portrayed how pathetic and hopeless you truly felt. 

Frankie gulped. “But w-why would those men kidnap a woman like this?”

“I don’t know, Frankie,” Dave groaned. “That’s not our business. Just shoot her, alright?” 

“I’m gonna ask her.”

“Don’t!” Dave slapped the steering wheel again.

Frankie reached back, tugging the corner of the duct tape up and from over the top of your lips.  

“Please don’t kill me! Please! I didn’t do anything wrong! Please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

Dave did his best to shout over you–telling Frankie ‘No!’ again and again and again.

“I-I can’t. I can’t kill her, man,” Frankie choked out. “She… she–I mean, look at her, man.” 

“Fuck! Frankie!” Dave growled. He looked back at you with his lips in his teeth while you blubbered out your pleas. He turned to Frankie who stared back with big, sad eyes. He looked at the road ahead. “Fuck!” 

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

a/n: the whole time i wrote this, i was like "wait, what movie am I getting this from?" and I'm not 100% sure, but I'm thinking I was inspired by the classic 'Excess Baggage' w/ alicia silverstone and benicio del toro. so expect some vibes from that, lol!

[grave-z-boy]

Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader

A/n: Tumblr straight up deleted the original ask :/ also the ending is kinda rushed cuz Ive been working on this for too long.

Request: if ur taking requests, can i request a arthur morgan x male reader where the reader gets kidnapped by o’driscolls, gets injured a lot, and arthur comes, pissed asf, screaming, “where is he” and shit, basically rescues reader, and comforts him later after they set up camp and basically start making out which the leads to sex, but arthur is super gentle, and very careful and isn’t sure if they should because of readers injuries but they do and he’s super sweet and, making sure reader is ok and stuff. (already were in a relationship prior to kidnapping) if this is way too much i get it lmfao. i like your writing a lot!! ~anonymous

Summary: Arthur rescues reader after he's been kiddnapped

Word count: 3,442

Warning: torture, murder, reader gets shot, bruises and scars, guns in general, passing out, smut, bottom!reader, top!Arthur Morgan, hurt/comfort, short smut.

A stray bullet flew so close to your ear that you could hear it cutting the air. The oozing hole in your leg only spit out more blood as you crouched down behind a tree, your shoulder pressed hard against the bark as you tried to keep your head from spinning. You whistled for your horse, only to hear a sudden pained whiny from her somewhere across the O’Driscolls camp, you swore under your labored breath. Another bullet flew past you.

Using the tree you pushed yourself up, the old, sharp bark tearing the skin on your palms. Breathing in, you tried to block out the searing pain in your leg. It worked just enough for you to peek around the tree and aim your pistol at the O’Driscoll. Squeezing the trigger, the man fell back, you hit him square in the chest.

He wasn’t the only one though- this camp was chock-full of O’Driscolls, and they were all looking for you. You spotted another man, hunting rifle in hand, slowly creeping into the tree line, you aimed, but he was faster, shooting you in the shoulder. It hurt like hell, you yelled as you hit the ground. He crept closer- he was fast, but he wasn’t a good shot, you could tell as he nervously reloaded his gun. The shot wasn’t enough to kill you, even if you let it sit and fester. Before he could aim again you raised your pistol and shot him, once in the chest, and when he didn’t go down you shot him between the eyes.

Letting out another breath, you pushed yourself onto your knees. Only to feel warm metal against your neck, before you could even swear, you were hit with the butt end of the gun, your vision blurring to nothing in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~~~~~

“He should of been back by now..” Arthur said for about the fourth time this hour.

“Y/n’s a strong man, he’ll be fine. Probably just…camping out again.” Karen, who’d had to listen to him complain about four times this hour, muttered, her hands and mind more focused on mending a pair of Sean’s pants.

Sitting with Karen tended to comfort Arthur more than it should have, but right now her presence only made it worse. Her husband was out there with you and yet she wasn’t worried. She sat idly sewing like death couldn’t come to her man at any time. Arthur knew all too well how death could sneak up on a person. Especially you, who have had at least a dozen near-death experiences this year alone, and dozens more in the years before that, and that's with Arthur around to try and keep you breathing, he doesn't like to think about the shit you’d gotten yourself into before you met. Some of your little stories, stories you told so casually, made him sick at best and unbearable angry at most. You were everything to him and to think of what people had done to you made his blood boil beneath his skin.

“Look there, it's Sean, Y/n shouldn't be too far behind.”

Looking up, Arthur watched Sean nearly fall off his horse, leaving his lead untied, then bolting straight towards Arthur.

“They got him!” Sean shouted as he ran through camp, “Those fuckers got Y/n!”

Arthur was on his feet faster than he could process, grabbing Sean by the collar, forcing the frantic, fidgety man to stay still- at least a little so he could explain himself.

“Who has him?” he asked through clenched teeth, he knew he shouldn't be mad at Sean but he was. Whatever happened, they were supposed to be watching each other.

He felt Karen's hand on his shoulder but paid it no mind.

“We were just riding around, found some O’driscal camp out North. I swear I didn't mean to leave him, but we were surrounded and I thought he’d get out on his own-”

“You left him?!”

“I heard a horse bolt and I thought he was on it-”

“Bullshit, you're a goddamn coward, Sean-”

“Arthur!” Karen shouted from behind him.

Arthur's grip on Sean loosed enough for Karen to drag him away, muttering comforting words to him.

Arthur was out of camp in less than a minute, pushing his horse to the limit, blowing past trees, towns, and other riders until he came across your horse, standing in the middle of the road, dried blood covering its left side.

He breathed out slowly, hopping off his horse, taking slow, careful steps towards the spooked thing, hesitating for a moment before petting him.

“That's it..” he muttered, listening to the horse whiny, “I know, I know. I'll find him..”

Arthur caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye, just beyond the tree line. He took the lead of your horse and guided him off the road, carefully watching the barely hidden man. The only thing keeping Arthur from seeing him was the shadow cast by the trees and the rapidly falling sun.

With his hand hovering over his pistol, he gave your horse one last look before a sudden shiny glint caught his attention. He didn't think, whipping his pistol from its leather holder and firing, watching the glint disappear and the shadowy figure falls back.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he walked forward into the treeline, glancing down at the body, and the gun in its hand, then stepping over it.

~~~~~~~~~

Your own senseless muttering was the only thing keeping you awake, pain searing across every part of your body, blood pooling beneath you, dripping from your wounds, down to your feet, and into the waiting puddle below. The quiet dripping of your blood had become too soothing, too rhythmic- in your exhausted form it had begun lulling you to sleep.

You knew you couldn’t, you weren’t stupid enough to let that happen. You’ve seen guys twice your size with wounds yards milder than yours take little naps and never wake up. You weren’t going to risk it.

You blinked in the darkness, you’re husband will be here soon. Sean rode out like his ass was on fire, camp was only a couple of miles away, Arthur will ride in here, ready to blow the whole damn camp- and every O’Driscoll he sees- sky high. You laughed at the thought, wincing when the slight move aggravated every open wound, as well as the robe burns around your wrist.

The door behind you slammed open, the pitch-black room was suddenly flooded with the warm, mid-day sunlight.

Heavy footsteps thudded behind you, getting louder and louder as they came towards you. Without warning, your hair is pulled back, your scalp flared with pain, but subsides quickly. You locked eyes with the man, tall and pale, yet so strong, as you had learned over the past few hours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?” he growled, a forced glare on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond, something hurtful and defiant, just as all of your other words had been. But you couldn’t, your throat was dry, and the bruise on your cheek was sweltering. So you just stared at the man.

There was a sudden thud from outside, then another, and another.

You blinked hard, the tall man let go of you, hand on his holster, creeping towards the door. He peaked around the door, glanced at you with that same forced glare, then back out the door. When breathed in deeply, then jumped into the doorway, whipping his gun out as fast as he could. It was in his hand maybe half a second before he was shot at least four times, falling back when the first two hit him square in the face, the other two must have just been for fun, once in the neck, then in the chest.

Unnecessary, rageful- more thuds came from outside, shouting, screaming, gunshot. You closed your eyes, letting your head hang low, finally relaxing your strained neck. You were being rescued.

~~~~~~~~~

The O’Driscoll camp wasn't hard to find, from afar, it looked normal, a couple of guys sat in an unhorsed wagon, drinking, and laughing, a couple more were cooking around a fire. Two were standing guard outside the door of a shack, the only permanent building in the camp, all holding guns. Every last member of the O’Driscoll camp.

Arthur breathed out, he wanted to think this out, he wanted to be reasonable, he wanted to sneak you out the back, a quiet escape. But it was too peaceful here, they were having too nice of a day and you were somewhere, hurt- or…worse- and they didn't care or better yet they were happy about it. About your pain.

Arthur checked his gun, then his knife, it's all he needed.

Then, he charged.

The first man to notice him didn't even get to get a word out before being met with a bullet, the next four followed the same fate. The last man from around the fire made a perfect hostage. Young, the whole crew jumped when he was grabbed. Arthur held a gun to his head, one arm around his throat, glaring at the others as they closed in around him.

“Let ‘im go!” one of the men shouted, gun trained on Arthur.

He wouldn't shoot, it was too close of a shot.

“I'm only gonna ask once,” Arthur yelled, the man shrunk away from him, “Where is y/n!”

Silence.

Arthur pulled the hammer of his gun back.

“We don't know no ‘y/n’, whoever the hell he is, he ain't here!” the same man as before shouted.

Arthur blinked, then pulled the trigger. The man hung limply in his grip for a second before he let him crumble to the floor. A bullet flew past Arthur's ear a second later.

Somebody here is fast- a shame he can't aim.

Arthur shot the five men down before anymore could pull their guns.

The camp erupted into a mix of shouting orders, and screams of pain as Arthur made his way through the camp. His gun was holstered in exchange for a knife and his bare fist.

Another man, also young with dark hair, watched with wide horrified eyes as Arthur practically tore a man open with his knife, then set his sights on him. Running didn't work, he didn't get very far. Jerked back by the back of his collar, turned around with so much force his legs gave up on coordination and ended up in a heap. Arthur held him by his rumpled, red shirt.

“Where is he?!” Arthur said through gritted teeth, his voice deep and guttural, panting from the force he'd used on every man in this camp who stood in very similar positions to the man he was holding right now.

“The shack-” the man nearly cried, choking on his own breath, “it’s-it’s where we keep our meat.”

Arthur shoved the man to the floor, his back hitting the ground with enough force to crack it.

In the short moment he had- he could hear more members of the camp coming- he reloaded his gun.

Two O’Driscolls came from behind a large tent. Arthur got them in one shot, straight through both mens chests, they collapsed on top of each other in a soon-to-be rotting heap.

The rush of O’Driscoll’s was brought to a quick and brutal end. The last line of defense for the meat shack- for you- was a tall, pale man.

With bullets to spare, Arthur emptied the barrel of his gun into the man, storming into the shack. It was dark, the soft light the sun provided wasn't enough, old wood creaking beneath his boots as he took slow, careful steps inside. Vague figures, six, hanging from the ceiling.

Even in the dark, he recognized you immediately. His heart sank as you hung there, unmoving.

A sudden deep breath broke the silence, then a groan. You shifted slightly against the rope around your wrist, muttering something as you did.

Holstering his gun, he sped over to you, putting both hands on your face, and even in the impossibly low light he could still see your eyes staring straight into his.

Cutting you down and carrying you out was a blur, he didn't look at you, your body, he didn't think he could, not with how he was now. He knew you were hurt, you'd hissed painfully when he picked you up, and despite his attempts to keep his eyes off of you, he could see that your shirt, at the very least, was torn and stained with blood.

He felt like he was burning, even with the camp extirpated and you safe in his arms. He still felt a furor building in his chest as he searched for your horses.

Your head rested against his chest, eyes just barely open, vision entirely blurred.

Unaware of your surroundings, you let Arthur’s familiar presence take you over. Listening to his ragged breath and pounding heart.

You don't remember being brought to camp or dozing off, but you felt better, your arms felt lighter and your head had stopped spinning, you could feel bandages on your shoulder, stomach, and leg. You blinked, looking down at yourself, your clothes had been changed, they were mismatched but comfortable. Resting your head back against the cot, glancing around the little camp Arthur had set up.

Kneeling by the fire, swearing under his breath as he stared into the hanging pot.

Pushing yourself up, you realized how sore your wrists still were, but you pushed passed it. Finding your barrings, you walked over to him, feeling dirt and twigs crunch under your boots. Arthur, staring so deeply into the pot, so frustrated with everything and everyone, did not hear you coming.

You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight, feeling his warmth envelope your aching body.

“Hey, Hon..” you muttered into his neck, your throat was a little sore, you realized.

His hand found yours quickly, but they lingered on your wrist, over what would soon be scars. You breathed deeply, setting your head on his shoulder.

“Rope burn ‘s no joke”

You heard him breathe out.

“I was so…” he started, trying to find the word.

Enraged, pissed, livid, angry-

“..scared. With Sean riding into camp the way he did I couldn't help but think the worst.”

Sighing, you moved carefully to sit next to him. Your bruises ached, your cuts and gashed burned, and the bullet wound in your shoulder felt like hell, but you smiled.

“You know I'm not going anywhere, not without you. If I'm going to hell you bet your ass I'm taking you with me.”

Hd smiled softly, “I know, I know,”

Stirring the pot a bit, he said “Food’s not gonna be done for a while.”

“How long?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, a moment passed, you pressed a kiss into the leather of his coat, another moment passed, you kissed his neck, right under his jaw. You felt him shift his head to the side.

A few more moments and a few more kisses later he pulled away. He was already hesitant to reciprocate, he'd seen the extent of your injuries when he was cleaning you up, it was a hard sight to see. So many cuts and bruises that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep track of them all.

The second he reciprocated, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, kissing you slowly, his hand curling around your hip- he pulled away when a small, pained noise left your throat.

Guilt immediately flooded Arthur, his heart clenching, then dropping into his stomach when you moved your pants down to reveal a deep purple bruise. Still fresh and no doubt painful.

He mumbled your name as you checked out the bruise, then fixed your pants, looking back up at Arthur like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay,” you said, your mood clearly not phased the way Arthur’s was.

“I’m sorry..”

You hummed, getting close and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be.”

“You know I can't help it..”

You pressed a short kiss into the crook of his neck.

“Then make it up to me.”

It was a well known fact that Arthur was wrapped around your finger, you knew it, he knew it, and all your friends at camp knew it. So it didn't take much begging, despite his better judgment.

His brain was screaming at him- you were hurt, covered in bruises. Sex would not make you better, it would actually make you worse.

Yet here he was, kneeling on the cot with you laying in front of him, a relaxed smile on your face as he popped each button on you pants open. You spread your legs, hanging them over Arthur’s hips. He hesitated.

Your hands found his in a moment, pulling them up to your lips and kissing from his wrist all the way up to the tips of his fingers. He sat there silently admiring you, every touch of your lips stinging him with a feeling of both guilt and need.

You stopped with a bite, taking the tip of his thumb in your mouth, biting with just a little bit of pressure. Then you kissed it like you had done all the others. It brought to mind a rougher memory, with you at his mercy, with him doing nothing while watching you writhe, pleas falling from your lips rapidly.

He blinked and the memory was gone.

Arthur let out a slow, unsteady breath. Then leaned down, burying his face in your neck, listening to your breath, feeling your pulse, kissing your exposed skin. Hearing the relieved sigh you let out, he began to grasp just how much you wanted him.

With practices ease, he blindly unbuttoned your shirt, moving from marking your neck to marking your exposed chest.

As gently as he could muster, he ran his hands down your sides, feeling the hard, hot bruises that littered your body.

You breathed out as he went farther and farther down, from your neck, to your chest, all the way down to your barely exposed hip. His fingers in two belt loops, slowly tugging your pants lower and lower. He kissed every inch of your skin, and every time he exposed more, he devoured it.

Pulling back to take your pants all the way off, nearly disturbing the now healing cut that went across your thigh. Your already hard cock rested against your stomach. Balling up your pants and setting them to the side. Resisting the urge to run his hands across each scab that had formed on your skin. A deep-seated urge to soothe and comfort, but he knew he couldn't do much more than he already had.

He pressed into you slowly, holding your hip steady in his hands, your thighs flinching several times, bitting down on to your lip as the pain of being stretched open lit every nerve in you body. Letting out a rigid, stuttered breath as he slowly pulled out after a moment of waiting- your hand squeezing his arm, giving him permission to move.

He did, holding your body close to his, reveling in every little whimper and moan, no matter how small. His praise boundless and constant as he thrust into you. You could feel him holding back, you’ve been with Arthur far too long to no know- he’s doing it for your well-being- you probably couldn’t handle more that what he’s giving you now.

Your body clung to Arthur’s as you came, your own shattered breath was the only sound you could hear for a long moment. Slowly releasing Arthur from your crushing grip, you blinked as your vision - which you hardly even realized was skewed- became clear again, and the mildly worried face of your lover came into view.

You couldn't help but smile- not that you wanted to let help it- especially as relief flooded his rigid figure.

“‘You okay?”

You nodded, shutting your eyes for a moment, finding that opening them became harder with every second that passed. You could hear Arthur talking, small mutters to you or to himself, your words only came out as a quiet, incoherent noise. You were exhausted, but quite happy. Even as your body settled and new pains set in with the old ones. You were happy.

[vivwritesfics]

Blurb idea!! How about when lando, oscar and carlos go to save Y/N, Lando is the one who (sadly) dies? I just felt heartbroken when Oscar died, ya know!

This has been in my drafts for fucking ages im soooo sorry

Warnings: Death

Series Masterlist

Oscar and Carlos held off the men while Lando pushed forward. He was going to save his sister, no matter what.

She was obviously down in the basement, it was a predictable move. Lando held his gun at the ready as he moved onto the basement, prepared to kill whoever stood in his way.

Lando kicked open the door at the bottom of the basement staircase. As soon as he did, a shot rang out. A cry filled his ears as he gripped his chest. Red stained his shirt. "What the fuck?" He found himself whispering before his body fell back.

"Oh fucking hell!" The killer groaned as he reloaded. But he'd never get to shoot his gun again, not when Carlos came running down the stairs, with Oscar behind him. He shot the killer before he could shoot his pretty little wife.

She refused to leave Lando's body. Oscar carried it out of the house while Carlos carried Y/N.

Lando Norris was buried beside his mother. His sister did the eulogy, crying unashamed as her brothers body was lowered into the ground. Carlos was the only family they had left.

Mateo Lando Sainz was born just a few months later. He was raised on stories of his uncle, of his bravery, of infectious laughter. He grew up learning to play chess with his mother, because that was what his Uncle Lando used to do.

Mateo Sainz desperately wished he could have met his uncle but he never got the chance. Without Lando to run the Norris family, the members were split between the Russell family and the Hamilton family. With nobody to run it, the Norris estate remained untouched, for Y/N and her family to use when they visited.

Each time they did Mateo would roam the halls, looking for pictures of his uncle, looking for some way to be close to the man he never knew.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @hiireadstuff @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @chonkybonky @shobaes @celesteblack08 @watermelonworries @gracielukey @cassie0sstuff @goldenharrysworld @venusesworld @sparklyperfectionstranger @evans-dejong @graciewrote @formulaal

[tallulah477]

Pretty, Pretty Panties

Kinkmas Day 3: Lingerie/Stockings

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Grinding (cause I can’t think of a better word for this?), Size Difference

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I was trying to see if there was a specific word for this kind of sex act and Google decided to bring me hurtling back into the world of Urban Dictionary and y’all . . . Urban Dictionary is WILD

A/N 2: I have exactly zero other prompts prepped after this one so this is going to be exactly like Kinktober lmao

Summary: Lo’ak has always been intrigued by human items, but your panties may just be his favorite of them all.

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Tewng - Loincloth

Yawne - Beloved

Lo’ak’s always been intrigued by human items.

It’s only natural - his father was a human, long before Eywa granted him a new life permanently in the body of his Avatar. He, himself, is undeniably part human. The hair on his brow bones and extra finger on both of his hands are features that can only ever come from one place, telling the story of his unique family lineage and the source of his low self-esteem during his teenage years. 

He’s since grown out of the self-hatred his different traits brought upon him, learning to accept who he is and be proud of his differences despite where they come from. Besides, not all humans are bad. His grandmother had told them once that the humans that stayed behind on Pandora after the first war were all part Na’vi - not in looks, of course, but in soul. They are the ones who fought for peace, who heard the call of Eywa, even with their tiny, round tawtute ears, and earned their place amongst The People despite looking like the enemy. 

His father was one of them, a long time ago, and he became Toruk Makto with his hairy eyebrows and extra fingered hands. It used to be suffocating, to be drowning under the shadow of such a successful man, always feeling like a disappointment, a failure, and never knowing if he was ever going to be half the man his father is. But things are different now. Lo’ak is older and wiser, and he can proudly say he feels honored to share in those similarities with such a great man. 

Human DNA is in his veins, their technology now a staple in the Omatikaya Clan, introduced at the insistence of his father. Throat comms wrap around the necks of every hunter and warrior, tablets are used to help keep track and categorize supplies of both the clan’s reserves as well as the outpost’s inventory. Every warrior must go through vigorous gun training, learning how to handle the weapon, how to shoot and reload with military precision. The bad humans are gone now, with no sight of ever looking like they’re going to return, but the Olo’eyktan does not take chances, and he will not have his family run out of their home ever again. 

Lo’ak knows it all, his long blue fingers fiddling with any piece of technology confidently. But it’s not just technology he’s interested in. He’s tried clothes before, stealing the largest t-shirt he could find from one of the science guys just to try it. It fit, but just barely, the material stretching across his lean shoulders a little too tightly and feeling way too constricting for his own taste, the bottom hem stopping about halfway down his torso. You laughed when you saw it, tears filling your eyes as you pointed at his midriff just barely able to gasp out the words ‘crop top’ through your full bodied laughter.

The shirt didn’t work for him, he was okay with that. He was curious, he tried, he learned - and that was that. He never really thought he would want to go around wearing tawtute clothing even if they would have fit him right.

You, on the other hand . . .

. . . well, those panties fit you perfectly.

It’s not like humans go out in their underwear, and Spider is the only human bold enough to regularly walk around in a tewng, so Lo’ak only finds out exactly what’s underneath those annoying layers of tawtute clothing when the two of you start fucking around. The chest covering, a ‘bra’ you called it, is completely unnecessary. There’s no need to cover up as much as humans do, and to hide such perfect tits in an uncomfortable wired cradle is a torture that he will never understand why someone would put themselves through, and, frankly, it’s a slight against Eywa to cover up such gifts. 

The panties though? Yeah, they can stay. They look so much like a tewng, covering your most intimate parts like a privacy cover, only missing the front flap to make them identical in look. You have different ones - different colors, different textures, and different styles that show various levels of undress for your perfect ass. 

Lo’ak loves them all, but currently, the one’s he’s fucking are his favorite. 

It’s a tiny thing, like you, light pink with a cute little bow in the front, and the soft material feels like heaven on his cock as he glides through your wet folds. 

You look so good underneath him, hair splayed out like a halo on your pillow as you gasp and whine every time the head of his cock slides over your clit, tiny hands fisting into the sheets for support as his own hands push your knees back against your chest to keep you spread open. 

You’re still wearing your panties, and a part of him wants to growl in frustration and rip the delicate material from your body for not being able to have an unobscured visual of your puffy pussy. But you’re so wet, so so wet that the panties have all but become transparent with your slick, making them sticky and see through enough that he can see both the outline of your labia and his length as he rubs against you underneath it. 

He shivers as he thrusts faster, the wetness of your arousal making the slip across your swollen clit all the more easy, and a growled moan escapes him as the wet sounds your pussy makes at the increased pace invade his ears. The tip of his cock is nudging against the wet fabric with each pass, the large bulge pushing the material away from your body with each thrust just from the sheer size of him. The underside of your panties is dragging against the length of his cock, working in unison with your silky pussy against the underside to tease him into insanity. 

Your whines get louder, hips twisting in response to the never ending stimulation on the sensitive bundle of nerves, dripping hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. “Lo’ak, please,” 

He hums at the sound of his name, his name, moaned in that beautiful voice of yours, eyes flicking up from the obscene view of where your bodies are meeting to your face. “Yes, yawne? What can I do for you?”

“P-please, fuck me,” You beg. Your legs are trembling in his hold, desperate to kick out and wrap around his hips to try and pull him in. “Please,”

“Hm,” He grins, sharp canines on display, glittering in the fluorescent lighting of your bedroom. “Does my pretty girl feel empty? Need some big Na’vi cock to fill you up?”

You nod, frantically, heat pooling in your cheeks as the coil in your belly tightens at the thought of his cock splitting you open. You want it so badly, want to feel his length push into you, want to experience it as it keeps pushing, filling you up more and more and feeling like it might never stop. You want to see that bulge currently working underneath the cover of your sticky panties in your stomach instead - want to watch it disappear as he pulls out only to reappear again when he thrusts back in, deeper and deeper as he fucks your cunt so good in a way you know only he ever could. 

He wants that too, wants to feel what your gummy walls feel like wrapped around his cock. He knows the sight would just about kill him, to see your soaking hole stretch to its limits trying to take a cock that’s way too big for you. How suffocatingly tight you would feel, to finally be inside you (or at least as much inside as he can fit).  

He can’t help it, he just wants to see what it looks like, and he stops the tortuous drag of his cock along your clit to slide down the length of your pussy. One of his hands let go of your thigh to pull your panties to the side, mouth watering at the sight of your soaked core and puffy clit now completely visible to his hungry gaze. His breathing is shaky when he presses the tip of his cock against your tight entrance, the head rubbing gently at the pulsing hole as you mewl underneath him.

“Lo,” You moan, back arching as you try to push your hips down further against him. “More,”

“More, huh?” Lo’ak groans, pressing just a little bit harder against you and watching as your entrance gives under the pressure, trying to stretch around him and welcome him in. “This slutty little pussy wants more? So greedy,”

Your wide eyes glisten with unshed tears, red rimmed and watery from the way he’s teasing you. He won’t push in, won’t give you anything more than the small presses of pressure against your sopping hole, just enough to get you to start to stretch around the tip only to snap back when the pressure releases. “Lo’ak, please!” 

His fangs dig into his bottom lip, a soft growl echoing through the room as he steels himself to be strong. You’re not ready, he’s too big and he doesn’t want to hurt you. You gasp when he pushes against your entrance again, cock slipping against your wetness and running up your slit and across your clit roughly making you jump. 

Lo’ak releases his hold on your panties, letting the soaked garment snap back in place over your cunt and his heated length. 

“Can’t,” He grunts, once again beginning the agonizing stimulation of him sliding against your pussy. The soaked squelching sounds as his cock glides against your clit are obscene and wonderful, and your responding moans and whines sound even better as his ears flick to catch the sound. “Wanna fuck your pretty, pretty panties.”

Your hands latch onto Lo’ak’s wrists, nails digging into his skin as the coil in your belly tightens up more. The bite from your nails only intensifies the feeling, and Lo’ak can feel his own orgasm barreling towards him, and fuck, only you can make him feel like this without any penetration at all. 

It’s all wet in your pretty panties, all wet and gooey, and your arousal soaks his cock so good as he rocks against your soft folds. The fabric of the panties are rubbing against the head of his cock with each thrust, the added sensation only adding to the intensity. And when you cum, back arched and whimpering his name as he slides against your clit over and over and over again, dripping hole clenching around nothing as your body shakes with pleasure, the sight sends him over the edge, too. 

His orgasm hits him hard, ropes of pearly release painting your sensitive pussy and the inside of your pretty pink panties as he moans. Slowly, he pulls his cock out from underneath the fabric, letting the panties press back in place over your cunt with the sticky mess he left behind between you and the ruined material. 

And you look so beautiful like that, so sexy as you lie there, panting and looking like you just got fucked within an inch of your life despite the fact that you didn’t even take his tip, let alone his entire cock. The pink panties are pretty, and you wear them so well. 

But now he can’t help but wonder if you maybe have a pair in blue too.

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 3.10

“Do you think this will work?”

Glenn looks across the room at Beth, whose eyes look full of worry as she rushes to pack the food supplies into boxes. “It’s got to work,” he replies. “It’s our only plan, and if not, we are ready to run.”

“It’s a lasker trap,” you say. “The governor will think he has the upper hand in storming the prisons, but searching for us is just a distraction, and the dead are decoys giving us time to move in.”

Using a thick bush as cover, you watch as the governor rolls up to the prison in an army tank. They destroy one of the watchtowers closest to the entrance of the courtyard first and fire repeatedly at the one across from it, hoping to kill anyone inside it. You grow nervous seeing how many people from Woodbury have joined him in attacking your home. You wonder what lies he told them to make them think you're the villain.

Daryl had arrived back not long after leaving to find his brother and Michonne. Merle had a change of heart and let Michonne go instead of handing her over, and then he decided to attack the governor’s army.

You turn and look toward where Daryl is hiding. Making out the outline of his figure, the pain in his voice when he told you Merle was dead was heartbreaking; he was truly devastated. You weren’t fond of Merle, but he did what he did out of his love and loyalty for Daryl, which was something to be admired. Merle had combat training; he knew the odds were against him and still did it anyway to give his brother a fighting chance.

You repeat the plan quietly to yourself again and again while waiting. The goal wasn’t to kill the people from Woodbury, but to make them think twice about killing your group and your family. The only men you need to take out are the men who tortured you and Glenn, because you knew they would never stop.

Alarms blare in the distance, so you know they made it into the cell block Rick set flares to go off in, which would attract any walker nearby. A few moments later, the majority of the governor's army ran out of the prison. Glenn and Maggie fire at them, while you fire at the bastard who sliced your leg. Unfortunately, he makes it into one of the vehicles they drove in without a scratch.

Within a few minutes, the governor and his men retreat and drive away.

—

You run fast, as your legs will carry you into the prison to regroup with everyone. Soon as you enter the cell block, you go over to Beth and take Jace from her arms and kiss his chubby cheeks. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” your brother replies. You were surprised by the haunted look on Rick’s face. You noticed the gun Carl had was now in Rick’s belt, but you didn’t question him about it.

“We ain’t done yet,” Daryl says. “The assholes will just keep coming back.”

Maggie nods in agreement. “We need to take the fight to them.”

“I’ll be back soon, baby, okay?” You cuddle Jace closer to you before handing him back to Beth. Everyone takes a short breath to catch their breath and reload their weapons. When it was time to leave, you were one of the last to leave the cellblock.

Just as you reach the doorway, Daryl stops and looks back at you, looking concerned. “No, no way. Y/n, you can’t go to Woodbury. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for everyone.”

Daryl steps closer to you; there is a desperation in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “It’s not the same; if something happens to us, those kids are going to need you.”

“Daryl…”

“I’ve just lost my brother; I can’t have you dying too. Just stay, please.”

Rick cleared his throat, making it known he had overheard. “We are going to need someone to stay here and defend this place in case anyone comes back.”

The thought of staying behind while the rest of them risked their lives made you feel guilty, like you were taking the easy way out. You bit down on your bottom lip and said, “Fine.”

“Rick,” Glenn says, walking up the hallway. “Me and Maggie are going to stay behind as well.”

“Three stay, three go.”

—

“You should go back inside; it’s getting late.”

Beth gives you a look and says, “And leave you out here yourself? What if the governor's men come back?”

A knot twists your stomach. It had been hours, and your brother, Daryl, and Michonne hadn’t returned you. “If they come back, I’ll yell. I don’t want you guys running on fumes; I’ll be fine out here.” You point at a small cluster of walkers and say, “Once I’ve cleared them, I’m going to keep watch so nobody will see me if they do come back.”

Beth surprises you by hugging you before going back inside.

You take your frustration over not knowing what was going on in Woodbury out on the walkers, using a pole to stab them roughly in the head. All the noise from gunfire had attracted a lot of them, and if you left them to gather, the fences would come down. Stepping back, you look up at one of the lookout points, which was on a higher ledge, and see Carl ducking behind one of the crates, who had come out to keep an eye on you from a distance. “Carl, go to bed.”

“No.”

You sigh; your nephew was just as stubborn as you. “You need to get some sleep.”

“We need to watch each other back. It’s what my dad would want.”

Your expression softens slightly. “Okay, but go back inside and get some blankets. It’s getting cold, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay,” Carl says, getting to his feet. “Aunt y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re gonna come back. My dad, Daryl and Michonne, I just know they will.”

—

Not long after the sun comes up, you spot a vehicle approaching. Lightly, you shake Carl awake. He had stayed by your side during the nights, but not long after you wrapped him up in blankets, he fell asleep. “Hey, we’ve got something. They’re a bus heading right for us.”

He goes inside and alerts the others. Using your scope, you zoom in and see Rick jumping out of the bus and running to open the gates. You go down the concrete stairs on still legs; no matter what position you move into during the night, it is impossible to get comfortable. Once the gate was open, he waved for Michonne to come in.

You stick your head in the hallway door and call out, “It’s safe.”

Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Hershel come outside. They seem relieved and confused by the bus full of people.

You go over and hug Rick. “What happened out there?”

“The governor killed all those people, then fled. When we went into Woodbury and offered the people a choice, they could stay there or come back with us.”

You smile in amazement watching elderly couples and women with children, including babies, come off the bus. Most of the adults carried supplies of food, clothing, and other useful supplies as they came off the bus. Delighted, Hershel greets them all while Maggie and Glenn start planning which cellblock to move them into.

This was a chance for a fresh start.

You watch as Daryl disappears behind the back of the school bus, and you go down to check on him. “Hey, are you doing okay?”

He shrugs. Although he was staring straight ahead, you could see tears glistening in his green eyes. With things happening so fast, he hadn’t even begun to mourn Merle’s death.

“I’ve never had the chance to say it, but I’m sorry about your brother. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Before... in the prison...” he finally turns to look at you. “I was afraid. We are like a family, you know? But for you and the little man, it’s different. I don’t know how to describe it; it just is. After me and Merle went rogue, we spotted a family trapped in their car being attacked by walkers. We took the walkers out, then they drove away. They had a baby with them, and it’s crying that attracted the walkers in the first place, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what if that was you and Jace trapped, and I…I left Merle behind to come back. I just want to keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to say; there were very few words you could use at that moment. So instead, you place your hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, pull him close to you, and kiss him.

[alternative-morenita]

1.0 - Dear Friend Across the River

ACT I | DEAR FRIEND ACROSS THE RIVER contents: prologue | 1.1 | 1.1.5 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 |

DEAR FRIEND ACROSS THE RIVER

"No!" Hyde's voice calls, drowned by the explosive release of the enforcer's bullet.

A plume of red with a dramatic yellow flashes before her wide, gold eyes that watch the pointed projectile penetrate her mother's chest. The white haired woman recoils, teeth gritting with pain before lowering her eyes at the masked officer with a pointed glare. With an animalistic snarl, she squares her shoulders and launches for the officer.

In hand, the dark skinned woman carried a twin pair of circular red and silver tainted steel weapons. She tosses the one in her right hand, bending her shoulder inwards with the throw. The disc shaped weapon soars through the red smoke in an arch before returning its way back down, slicing across the enforcer's chest. Embedding itself into blood stained ground of the bridge, the blade shines with amongst the carnage.

Grabbing a back up from the holster attached to the back of her jacket, the weapon leaps into the air with a savage cry as she brandishes her blades. Stumbling back, the enforcer clumsily reloads his rifle, head switching from their weapon to the Zaunite rebel. As she descends, their gun releases the jammed bullet and replaces it with an active round, locking in place with a deadly click. Confidently firming their stance, the enforcer fires three rounds into the woman.

MY HANDS ARE COLD AND BARE

Hiding behind a tipped over wagon, encased with the fog filled with death and gun smoke, Hyde watches her mother's death in horror. Her small, calloused hands tighten around her green and gold chakrams as her braced teeth grinding against one another. Her clenched jaw tightens, forcing the cheap metal wires to twist as some loosen, cutting across her gums. 

In a blind rage, the young girl runs from under the wagon and its blanket of corpses. Her small feet quietly slap against the ground, pushing against the helmet clad head of another enforcer that struggled to their feet. Using the involuntary boost, Hyde spins counterclockwise and releases the disc from her right hand at her mother's murderer. At the last minute, the enforcer turns from the white haired woman's body.

Their shoulders lurch with surprise and in a last desperate attempt tries to shoot the weapon away. Failing, they watch as the bullet bounces off the steel before fleeing. With their back turned, their fear of death grows as the blade seems to have fallen quicker than before. Their gloved hand reaches out to a body of nothingness just as the blade tears through their neck. 

DEAR FRIEND ACROSS THE RIVER

Landing on her feet, Hyde falls victim to her panic as her lungs fail to regulate her breathing. Between the smoke that wrapped itself around her throat and the bile that threatened to rise, the pre-teen withers in pain as she drops to her knees. Using her hands to catch herself, her bottom lip quivers as her gold eyes drown against the wave of tears that break from its hold.

Her small yet strong arms wrap around her dead mother's shoulders, gently turning the limp woman onto her back. Tentatively, her small digits brush across her mother's soft face that now carried a wrinkled yet peaceful expression -- a stark difference to the youthful mask she'd uphold for her children and the war-torn glare she had worn just moments before her death. 

I'LL TAKE WHAT YOU CAN SPARE

Hyde lays her forehead against her mother's, silently weeping. Glimpses of her brother's face flashes in her mind. The boy was only 6, he was barely a year old when their father passed thanks to the Grey and now Piltover has taken their mother. Hyde can't be a parent, she's fucking 13. She doesn't know how to play the role of mommy and daddy, she only knows how to be her.

Ahead of her, more enforcers make their way closer to the Hyde and her mother when a warm presence appears behind her. She turns, eyes widening as Vander looks down at them with wet eyes. Replacing his metal gauntlets were two girls, clutching onto him in desperation as their small bodies quiver with quiet sobs. 

I ASK OF YOU A PENNY

His bushy eyebrows furrow, eyes glazed with desperation and silent pleas. Her lips twist until finally, her head falls, conceding to his words. Quickly, the young girl grabs her mother's chakrams and her own that had strayed beside the beheaded officer. With a shared nod, the two take their solemn walk of back to Zaun. 

MY FORTUNE IT WILL BE

[tesalicious2]

Maintence/Engineering Clones Headcanons

maintence and engineering go hand in hand, since they can do both and clones are exclusive to one or the other

types of maintenance clones: shuttle (includes fighters and smaller carriers that are on a Venator), starship, armor, artillery

It’s pretty easy to tell what they do but it’s one of the most complex and difficult jobs in the GAR

Shuttle crews work exclusively on shuttles, all day every day

Maintenance includes reloading the weapons, taking apart and cleaning the laser canons/guns, checking the wires for fraying, cleaning the windows, engine repair, etc

Though, deep maintenance such as engine and gun cleaning only happens during transport to other battles as those take a lot of time

Shuttle crews can take apart and put together any ship blindfolded

During quick maintenance, windows are cleaned, systems are given a quick diagnostic check, and guns are checked for debris before they are let loose

These crews can go from 3 (for single fighters like Y wings) to 15 (larger carriers)

Starship maintenance crews are the largest and the most diverse in their jobs

They work in shifts for cleaning as that never truly stops, but otherwise assigned to one area of the ship

Starship category is broken down into subsections: engines, reactors, systems, cannons, general

The engines crew are mostly active on repair trips or leaves. Their job is to make sure the engines work in top shape

This includes checking fuel usage and stuff like that

However it also includes cleaning the engines, hanging from lines at the top and hanging hundreds of feet above the ground

The engines are lined with a coating keeping the metal from melting, this needs to be reapplied every so often so they painstakingly coat the engines from top to bottom

They also have to check the pilot flame that starts the engines by climbing in and cleaning by hand

The engine crews are the most insane and chill, they hang in the air for eight or more hours listening to music or chatting while applying coatings and checking for rust

The reactor crew works just with the reactors that power the engines

While this seems that it should be apart of the engine, it’s best to be kept separate as the job is just as extensive but much more complicated

Reactor crews lift off the metal covering the tech and check every line and wire for fraying or shorting out

The systems crew deals with life support, navigation, and weapons systems

Their job is similar to the reactor crews, checking wires, electrical outputs, things like that

Though unlike reactor crews and engine crews, they don’t stop working while in space

At the end of every 24 hour rotation they go through the navigation systems to fully update the storage chips

If something shorts out or glitches, they are the ones to call, similar to an IT department (just incredibly skilled and specialized)

Cannons crew, while sounding like a simple job, is just as complex as the others

They don’t just deal with the cannons, any weapon attached to the starship is their responsibility

They work at the same time as the engine crews, while the ship is docked and under repair

They take off the barrels, clean and oil them, reattach, and put them back online. Do this more than 100x and you’ve got a canon crew

They also work on the cannons that are in the hangers. Those barrels cannot be detached so they use long cleaning pipes that extend and clear the grooves inside the barrel

To make sure the weapon is clear, they fire a blank under the watch of the artillery crew

The final crew for starships are the general crew

This crew is made up of the engine and cannon crews while in space

They take care of any damage the ship takes while in battle

They check on the water and sewage pipes that run throughout the ship, they keep the halls clean and make sure the overall structure of the ship is able to handle cannons firing, shuttles and fighters mount and going, and people running through the ship without collapsing on itself

The final two maintenance crews are different as they aren’t limited to the starship crew or shuttles but are a mix of both

Armor crews keep the clones armor in top shape and clean, they repair armor and get replacements as needed

They work on HUD and any built in systems of the clone trooper armor

However, they also work on ship armament. If a shuttles armor is severly weakened, they have to fix it (or make it useable until they get to a proper repair dock)

Artillery is similar but more extensive

If it’s fired or needed ammunition, they take care of it

From blaster packs to torpedos, they maintain it and have it in stock

They mostly deal with larger weapons such as the cannons (both on board and those that are to be taken into battle) and the shots for the AT-TE.

Though, many specialize in certain weaponry such as bombs, attached artillery (cannons on AT-TE, shuttles, fighters, and starships), loner (rocket launchers, grenades, blaster packs, and mini guns)

Though these groups are diverse and often work together to fully arm and prepare any one thing.

An AT-TE doesn’t just require torpedos and the like, it’s crew need blasters, they’ll transport rockets to troops

All maintenance are pretty chill dudes and will happily tell you about their job if asked

They don’t take kindly to taunting or degrading and will make your life hell

They wear an outfit features a heavy duty helmet full of padding for comfort, built in ear muffs and comms, and an extra visor that can be flipped down used during welding. They wear a heavy undersuit (that most cut the lower arms off of) that extends to just under the chin for full coverage. Over it is a usually stained plain shirt with an added pouch for hydration packs and snacks, and heavy padded full arm coveralls that have built in leg/kneepads/elbow pads. Their belt is a toolbelt with lots of pouches for anything they need. On their arm, a band signifies rank. Finally thick heavy gloves that go over the overalls for a tight seal.

They can also add on the safety gear needed for grappling down in engines.

Most wear the upper portion of the coveralls tied around their waist because that shit is wayyy to hot.

While off duty, they just wear the shirt and some of their lighter work coveralls with the arms rolled up

They tend to get made fun of a lot because they do keep the ship clean like a janitor most times they are seen

But, if you need a secret hiding hole, a camera blind spot, a quick fix for your stuff, or a place to crash, they’re the ones to go to

Many who work with younger Jedi teach them how to repair their clothing and tech, though they’ve never gotten a look inside the lightsaber (no matter how they’ve tried)

Sometimes they are assigned to mind younglings during off hours or really harsh battle