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goseb90 · 5 years ago

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Best Belly Band Holsters Reviews 2019

ComfortTac Belly Band Holster: Locating a comfortable method to conceal to take can be hard. When there are many conceal to carry options, none are quite as comfortable as the belly band holster. If you're looking for a belly band that will secure your firearm and keeps your comfortable, you may want to test the ComfortTac Belly Band Holster.

Top 10 Belly Band Holster Review

The ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is a great option for relaxation, flexibility, and concealed carry. This belly band holster offers a one size fits all strategy, which means that you may correct it based on what feels comfortable for you. It's also produced from comfortable neoprene substances that is built to stretch and cover up to a 44" belly. It's soft enough to wear against the skin, since the product was intended.

Beyond the relaxation that this belly band holster offers, it's available for both ideal hand and left hand draws. Some of the guns that this gut band can carry comprise a Glock 19, 23, 38, 25, 32, 26, 27, 29, 30, 39, 28, 33, 42, 43, 36, Bodyguard, M&P Shield, Smith and Wesson, Ruger, Sig Sauer, Kahr, Beretta, Springfield, Taurus, Kimber, Bersa, Kel Tec, Rock Island, Walther, and more.

Overall, to get a reliable belly band holster, the ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is a fantastic bet. It conceals all types of firearms efficiently and makes carrying comfortable, which can be all you need and want from the best belly band holster.

Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster

Looking to take and totally conceal any firearm and ammo with no coat? If you're trying to find the ideal way to conceal and carry a firearm, you might want to consider investing in a bellyband. More specifically, an Active Pro Gear Belly Band Holster for easy, flexible carrying options.

The Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster is designed for flexibility and motion. It can be adjusted to sit anywhere on or around the waist, comes in a wide assortment of sizes to fit, and was designed with comfort in mind. The flexibility of the band material will not dig in or cause discomfort, unlike many other belly band holster new choices.

This belly band holster can carry and completely conceal anything from big frame semi-automatic guns and revolvers to little pistols and everything in between. This holster stretches while staying secure, making it perfect for active lifestyles and everyday use, which is among the greatest advantages of choosing this belly band holster.

The Lively Pro Gear Belly Band Holster is reasonably priced for great performance. There's not any clip to give away that you are concealing a weapon as well, that is a huge advantage for those looking to fully hide and it even has a mag pouch. Overall, this gut ring is well worth the investment.

It's created with blue lace and elastic, a exceptional look one of the quality of black belly band holsters.

While this belly band holster alternative stands out for it's looks, it's other useful standout features too. The Don't Tread On Me Conceal and Carry Belly Band Holster is designed with light padding to add to the comfort of the belly band, equipped with heavy duty denim and a velcro belt which fits most (32-40"). And talking of strength, the pouch includes a duck warm water resistant coating to stop your gun from becoming wet under any weather conditions.

This belly band holster will accommodate most guns with a 4 inch barrel or not as when you select a medium buckle, but bigger guns can be accommodated with a massive belly band holster rather than And of course this belly band allows for wear with all the waistband on the inside or the outside.

In general, this is a best belly band holster that does it all. It is comfortable, allows for a variety a movement, and offer unique durability. For camping, hiking, and other vigorous activities, this belly band holster can be excellent for regular usage.

UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster

The UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster is all about versatility and comfort. When purchasing a belly band holster, you must always prioritize relaxation, especially in the event that you'll be wearing the holster for extended hours. Some tummy bands will dig in and cause discomfort and sometimes bruising if the sizing is not accurate. To avoid any discomfort, you'll want to decide on a belly band that is comfortable and remains comfortable after hours of constant use.

If you choose the UnderTech UnderCover Belly Band Holster, you'll find the kind of comfort you want and need to get a belly band holster. The ring is made out of soft, stretch elastic and has a velcro closure for simple modification as required. This belly band is also equipped with a 6-inch pocket for all types of storage such as spare magazines, credit cards, important files, and more, adding to the convenience of the version.

Also, these bands can be ordered in either white or black, to match your carrying and mixing needs. In most situations and actions, this belt can act to make certain you're carrying to shield yourself with relaxation and balance in mind.

Last but not least, the Way Belly Band Holster is the most affordable belly band holster on our list. It offer a 4 inch bend ring to accommodate your waist comfortably. This belly band holster accommodates all places all in 1 holster, allowing for left and right hand pulls. It is intended to reach low on the hips for comfort, which is fantastic for extended wearing. And of course that this belly band is created for breathability and moisture wicking, to keep you comfy.

There are actually several places to store firearms with all the belly band holster! If you value a fantastic match for your firearm that will stay in place throughout the afternoon, the Four Means Belly Band Holster may be right for you and your requirements.

This belly ring holster is ideal for casual wear, anyhow. It's comfortable and accommodates motion, while giving you the security you want with a wide range of firearms. Not to mention that's allows for a full concealed, low carry.

If you would like to find out more about belly ring holsters, you will want to learn the advantages of opting to continue with a belly band instead of using any other method. There are many procedures that assist you conceal and carry, such as shoulder holsters, fanny packs, along with other waistband holsters.

The advantages do not stop at relaxation, either. They are fantastic for active lifestyles and everyday wear due to the position of the belt as well. And of course that they are fully adjustable, usually with velcro, and they may be worn anywhere on the waist or hips. Belly band holsters will also be designed to carry a broad selection of firearms, from larger semi autos and revolvers to small pistols.

Belly Band Holsters are worn around the inside, from the skin. They are extremely comfy, but some wearers find waistband holsters worn on the exterior more comfortable. However, holsters worn on the outside often offers less concealment when carrying any type of firearm. They may also inhibit a few users from getting a good grip when drawing and can be hard to reholster.

Overall, gut ring holsters can provide you a simple, comfortable carrying experience. If you're searching for a great regular carrying solution, particularly if you lead an active way of life, you should consider a belly band holster. They're flexible and effective, allowing for easy movement and they come in all sizes to accommodate a range of body kinds of dimensions. Here is a quick overview of the pros and cons of choosing a belly band holster for concealed carry.

Now you know more about our top five choices for stomach band holsters along with the pros and cons of choosing a belly band over other types of holsters, you'll have to know how to choose the best belly band holster to the carrying needs. Use this buyer's guide that will help you choose the ideal belly band holster for you.

Here are a few things to keep in mind when choosing a belly band holster, especially if you're planning for everyday transport.

Substance First things first, you are going to need to have a look at the material of the gut ring you're considering. A fantastic belly band should be made from a pliable, flexible material which allows for comfort while you move. Also, you will need to be certain that the material on a stomach band wicks away moisture, bonus if the material is water resistant also.

If you're allergic to certain cloths, you'll need to make sure you stay away from those materials too. Always check the cloth and material list before you opt for a belly band holster!

Carrying Capacity You'll need to locate a belly band holster that will accommodate some of those firearms that you want to take also. Most belly rings allow for a range of carry, but you'll want to check that the firearm or firearms you are seeking to carry will be accommodated by the belly band holster you decide on.

Most belly band holsters are made to be flexible in their fit, usually with velcro or another type of fastener. A tight, but comfortable fit is ideal to keep your firearm protected, especially if you're planning on wearing it daily. It should stay in place and allow for comfortable movements.

Storage And Additional Features If you want any extra features, you'll want to start looking for them in your belly band holster. They are made to be fairly basic, but some belly band holsters come with a pocket for items like cards, cellphones, and extra ammo, which can be a helpful addition to a holster.

How To Wear A Belly Band Holster

After wearing a belly band, you're going to want to enhance comfort and usability. In order to get the absolute most from your holster, you'll have to know the best way to wear your belly band holster. Here are a few tips and tricks that can allow you to put on your belly band holster effectively.

Be Sure to Choose Have The Ideal Fit First things first, make sure to have the right fit. You should pick a belly band holster that will accommodate your body measurements. It is possible to measure your waist and hips to ensure you have a belly ring which can fit you and your dimensions.

Secure Your Band Always make sure you secure your gut band. Most holsters will come with come with velcro or another kind of fastener that can help you get a personalized fit. It is also possible to re-adjust as because you need throughout the day.

Holster Your Own Gun Next, holster your own firearm. Make certain it is both hidden and secure from the holster. Adjust your clothes accordingly so that the firearm is no more visible and does not leave prints. Carrying the firearm lower can help you achieve better concealment outcomes.

Move about and Make Adjustments Then consider moving around to determine where you want to make adjustments. Begin by standing up, walking around, and sitting down. You might also want to complete tasks you do daily sporting the holster to find out whether it constricts you and how comfortable it's to wear. From that point, it is possible to make adjustments accordingly.

Round Up, Wrap Up

Now you know more about our top five picks for belly band holsters, the advantages and disadvantages of choosing a belly band holster, and the best way to wear one effectively.

The ComfortTac Belly Band Holster is our best pick because it gives great concealment for transport, adjustability, and it is comfy for long wear everyday. If you want a excellent staple for carrying regular with simplicity, you might gain from this belly band holster. But, make certain to pick the best belly band holster match for you and your carrying needs.

#best belly band holster #belly band holster review

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dtholstersky · 2 years ago

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Website : https://www.dtholsters.net

Address : 207 Palmer Ln, Franklin, Kentucky 42134

Phone : +1 502-298-9817

Defense Tactical Holsters LLC is veteran owned (USMC), based in Franklin KY and US made. Our selection of high quality Kydex holsters will cover all of your needs at a reasonable price.

Business mail : [email protected]

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/dtholsters

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2 notes · View notes

aelia-likes-monsters · 5 years ago

Text

The Bodyguard

Characters: Female Reader, Male Minotaur, Multiple other Monsters Content: NSFW/Grapefruit, Gloryhole, Voyeur/Exhibitionism, Light Domination, Bodyguard Trope, Multiple Partners, Kink Club, Oral Sex (Fetallio), Facials/Semen, Handjob, Fingering, PIV Sex, Some Violence (non-graphic), Angst Wordcount: ~4000 Notes: A very late Kinktober story for @monster-bait which starts immediately with the porn then hits you with some feels. This story is super explicit, so please triple check the tags at the top before reading.

Patrons got to see this one several days early. If you want early access to many of my stories, check out my Patreon.

The booth is small, and in another venue it might have been dingy. Here at the Velvet Room though, it’s shockingly clean despite being set up as a gloryhole. There’s a chair in one corner, a gel kneepad if you want it, and a refreshment cart near the switch that lets you toggle the lights outside indicating whether you’re servicing folks or not. Three of the walls have holes drilled in them at a few key heights, to allow anyone short or tall be serviced comfortably. You’d expect nothing less of the most exclusive kink club in town.

You take a few steadying breaths, and look over at your minotaur bodyguard in the corner. He’s large, filling the space with his bulk, his dark fur and hair fading into his black tee and jeans. In this small space, it’s already warm so he’s taken off his coat. You can see his shoulder holsters, reminding you that he has a specific job to do; he’s not here for fun. Not like you.

You offer him a wobbly smile.

“You okay?” Xavier asks. His voice is a rich rumble. He shifts in his seat, leaning forward, making the light glint off the gold bands on his horns, and the gold ring in his nose.

“Nervous,” you tell him. That word doesn’t quite do it justice, but it’s as close as you can get.

“We can just go home if you don’t want to do this anymore,” His voice is calm and even, and you want to curl up in his lap and nuzzle against him. But he’s your bodyguard, not your boyfriend, so you can’t do that. It crosses the line to unprofessional behavior, and while both of you toe the line, neither of you violate it.

“No,” You say, shaking your head. “I’m just… what if I do poorly?”

“You won’t.” The amusement fills his voice, and you can hear him fighting down laughter. Your feelings would be hurt if not what he says next. “You’re amazing at everything you put your mind to.”

His words do something to you, and you feel the heat low in your belly. You think he’s got a bit of a voyeuristic streak, though nothing he’s ever said has confirmed it. There’s just something about the weight of his gaze, the way his dark eyes watch you. You’ve noticed it before, noticed the way he looked at you wasn’t strictly professional, so you put on a show for him as you remove the tiny black dress you’ve worn to get to the club. It’s barely decent, only just hiding lingerie that you’d spent far too much on. He appreciates the show; the way he looks at it, the way he looks at you as you undress is intense.

You break eye contact to turn on the light indicating that you’re in the room and ready to service people. You’re calmer now that you’ve been reminded that you’re here because you want to be, and you can leave at any time. But you’re nervous in a different way. Xavier is watching. Xavier is watching. You fight the urge to look at him again, and instead turn to survey the available holes.

It doesn’t take long at all for an erect penis to slide through a hole in the wall. This one is human or fae, you think by the size and coloration. You reach for it tentatively, stroking it at first with your fingers, and are pleased to see it jump in response to your touch.

You glance over at Xavier and make eye contact as you tuck your hands behind your back and lick the length of the cock sticking through the wall. You tease it with your tongue, tasting it a bit before wrapping your lips around it and taking it into your mouth. You bob your head and find your rhythm, easing into a comfortable groove that pushes your partner toward their climax. It doesn’t take the person on the other side long at all; your only warning that they’re about to come is the subtle twitch of their cock and a groan from the other side of the wall. You prepare yourself for the flood of semen that inevitably fills your mouth.

They withdraw from the hole. You spit into a trashcan.

Xavier chuckles, and passes you a bottle of water. You rinse your mouth and glance around the room, but nobody else has arrived yet. So far this is entertaining, but you were hoping for a bit more. Xavier’s still just watching you, and you can see from the bulge in his pants that he’s enjoying the show.

You wonder if he’d let you touch him. If you’d be allowed to service him. It’s something you’ve thought about before, many times if you’re honest with yourself. He’s big and gorgeous, and he’s always there. You’ve admired the breadth of his shoulders, the tightness of his ass, the way he fills out a suit when he’s on formal detail, and the way he looks in casual clothes when he’s supposed to blend in with the crowd around you. You think about your fantasies, and wonder how reality would align. You’ve never been able to find out; that professional boundary has always been in the way.

Another penis slides through a different hole. This one juts upward, its green color and height tell you it’s probably a goblin. It’s uncut, darker near the tip than the base. You run your hands along it, pumping it a few times, feeling the way the foreskin moves before you take as much as you can into your mouth. Your lips stretch obscenely around it and you can’t take all of it, but you do your best. The tip hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, so you ease off some, using your hands to satisfy instead.

Two quick raps on the wall of the gloryhole are all that warn you this time of imminent ejaculation. You try to catch it in your mouth, but there’s a lot, and it ends up making a mess on your face, and spilling onto your chest. Xavier hands you a damp towel without a word, and you clean up quickly, before the next person can discover the “now servicing” light.

“Ugh,” you say with a scowl. “I paid too much for this bra to have it get crusty with strangers’ jizz.”

“Take it off then.” Xavier says. He’s far too casual with the suggestion, and it gives him away. You’re both about to cross a line, and you’re both very aware of it. Though you knew by bringing him here you were pushing that line, there wasn’t any other bodyguard you’d have been willing to bring. You hope that Xavier is as certain about this as you are, because you don’t think you can move back from this, once the line is crossed.

You remove your bra, unfastening it and flinging it aside in one smooth gesture. Xavier glances at it, and then back at you. He seems to drink in the sight of you, particularly your now bare breasts. Your nipples are already pebbled with excitement, but the way he looks at you makes them feel tighter, somehow. You bring your fingers up and caress your breasts, giving Xavier a show. He doesn’t seem to be breathing, just clenching the arms of the chair and staring at you hungrily.

Emboldened by his gaze, you slide one of your hands down along your belly and into your panties. You’re already soaking wet with need, from the weight of Xavier’s gaze, and from the cocks you’ve already serviced tonight. You part your folds and brush your finger against your clit. Even that light touch has you gasping.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice a deeper rumble than usual. You watch him watch you, see the way his gaze focuses intently on where your hand moves inside your panties.

“Yes,” you say, circling your clit slowly, drawing this out.

You see movement from the corner of your eye. Another penis has arrived. This one is different, bulbous and red. You go to touch it, but Xavier interrupts.

“Only use your mouth. Keep touching yourself,” He says. He’s got that tone of command in his voice that you reflexively listen to. It’s saved your life before, but now he’s using it for a very different purpose. “No cumming.”

An undignified whine escapes your lips. It’s completely unbecoming of a woman of your status, but here in this room you don’t care about any of that. You obey him to the best of your ability, using one hand on the wall to steady yourself, keeping the other in your panties, teasing slowly.

You rub your cheek against the cock, feeling the ridges against your skin, and the way it seems to be self-lubricated. You wonder what kind of creature this belongs to, but you’re not experienced enough to know. A careful lick ensures that it doesn’t taste awful before you begin working at it with your mouth. Kissing along the sides of the shaft, rubbing against it a bit before taking it between your lips.

You hear a groan from the other side of the wall, and you feel it press a little bit further forward. It hits the back of your throat, but you’re aroused enough at this point that you’re able to ignore your gag reflex and swallow it down. Your fingers work faster on your clit, and you’re struggling to focus on both the motion of your fingers and the penis thrusting at you. The speed of their thrusts increase as they get closer to their climax, and they become more uncoordinated. There’s two quick knocks against the wall just before they shoot their load into your throat.

Determinedly you swallow this time.

You hear a whispered “thank you” from the other side of the wall.

Xavier hands you the water bottle again. Watches as you rinse your mouth out.

“You’re so gorgeous right now.” He says. “I want to bend you over and fuck you.”

“Yessssss.” The words come out as more of a hiss than anything else as you hit your climax at the mere suggestion of him filling you. Your head falls back and you moan. Sensation washes over you, and you feel yourself clench. It’s not an earth shattering orgasm, but it’s a good start to the evening.

Xavier’s got his pants undone, his erect cock out, one of his hands working it slowly. It’s big, enough that you know it’d hit every nerve just right. If you crossed the room right now and just climbed on his lap, you could hold his horns and ride his gorgeous cock. You want it more than you’ve wanted anything before.

You slide your panties down your hips, and off, standing nude in front of Xavier for the first time, just as another penis slides through a hole.

“I could fuck this one…” you say.

He growls.

“No.” He says, his gorgeous face twisted into a scowl. He doesn’t like the idea of you fucking anyone else, though he’s still tied up enough in his role as your bodyguard that he won’t touch you yet.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring the waiting penis for a moment longer in favor of soothing Xavier. You close the gap between the two of you, running your hands over his furrowed brow. “If you don’t want to watch that, then I won’t do it.”

You lean in and rub your cheek against his, feeling the softness of his fur against your skin. He doesn’t move, doesn’t raise a hand to touch you. Not yet. But he relaxes. You feel the long exhale of tension leave his body, a gust of air over your back.

“How do you want me to serve this one?” You ask, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear.

“Just your hands.” He says, just before you feel one of his hands come up and cup your breast. Internally you sing in triumph. Large fingers tease your nipple, mimicking the way you’d touched yourself earlier. You arch into his touch, whimper softly into his ear so he can hear what he’s doing to you.

“Whatever you want,” you say, and you hope he picks up the full meaning of your words.

Slowly you pull away from him, kissing him gently before you cross back over to where there’s now two cocks waiting in side-by-side holes. One is the dark black of a shadow-being, the other looks as though it might belong to a demon. You glance at Xavier, lube up your hands, and grab both at once. You pump them carefully, to the same rhythm.

It takes just enough concentration that you don’t realize Xavier is coming up behind you until you feel him press against your back. He’s big and warm, and hard. He seems more focused on you than himself though, as his hands rove over your body. He leans down so he can nibble on your neck, scraping blunt teeth against tender flesh as one hand teases your nipple and the other slides between your soaked folds.

“I hope this is what you meant when you said whatever I want.” His lips close to your ear when he speaks, his voice rough and deep with need. He nuzzles against the spot just below your earlobe.

“Yessss.” You breathe.

His finger plunges into you, filling you as his thumb finds your clit. Your hands slow on the cocks in front of you. It’s perfect, and you want more. You want to feel him stretch you, want to feel his hands gripping your hips as he fucks you hard. You’re so focused on the way he’s touching you and the fantasies of more, that your hands nearly stop moving. Xavier withdraws his finger. You lean into him and look up into his face, so familiar, and yet so new in this situation, silently begging him to continue what he was doing.

“Focus,” Xavier says, that stern hint of command in his voice. “If you stop, I stop.”

A whine is your only response, but you pick up your speed again, trying to split your attention between the feelings the minotaur behind you is evoking and the handjobs you’re giving. He chuckles, and you feel the vibrations of his chest against your back, just as much as you hear it. You love this, and you want more, but he’s also so wicked with this, expecting you to multitask.

Another finger slides into you, stretching your channel. You arch against him, chasing the feeling. He pumps his fingers quickly, drawing you toward your climax. You get distracted from the handjobs, and he slows once more. You whine, and are rewarded with a quick slap on the ass. You love it, and you know he must feel you tighten around his fingers.

“Keep going,” he tells you. “You’ve got a job to do, and you only get your reward if you do it well.”

You press back against him, wiggling your ass. He bites your ear and growls at you: a warning. You grin, but focus harder on the handjobs. The sooner they’re done, the better. A rapid tap against the wall warns you that your guests are nearing completion, and then one after the other they ejaculate onto you. The mess coats your hands, which you quickly press against the wall to steady yourself.

“Come for me,” Xavier growls into your ear.

You struggle to stay upright, writhing and mewling as a second orgasm overtakes you. One big arm wraps around you, and he holds you tight, playing your body expertly, drawing your climax out until you hit the point of overstimulation.

“Ah” You gasp, squirming away from his hand. “Too much.”

“Sorry.” He says, withdrawing his fingers and instead focusing on gentle kisses elsewhere for a moment. “Stay right there” Xavier murmurs into your ear. You nod, and hold your position as he rises and moves away. He turns off the ‘now servicing’ light, and grabs some wet-wipes to clean your hands.

You’re still on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. His erection bobs at face-level, giving you a tempting view of his cock. It’s large, but not overwhelmingly so, uncut, and thick. You hold his eyes as you lean forward and lick it. He doesn’t stop you, so, emboldened you begin to take more of him into your mouth. He reaches for you, tangling one of his hands in your hair, not pressuring you, just holding you as you work to take his entire length into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so good at this baby.”

You want to smile, pleased by the way he seems to be melting under your ministrations, but your mouth is otherwise occupied. Instead you show your pleasure by redoubling your efforts, using your tongue and lips to tease as you increase suction, pulling him further into your mouth. You relax your throat and try to swallow him all. He groans, and you feel his fingers clench in your hair.

He pulls your mouth off his cock, spins you around and presses you against the wall, entering you from behind. From this angle he feels huge, and you know if you weren’t so wet from everything you’d been doing tonight, it might have hurt a bit, but he slides home easily. You love the way he’s manhandling you, love the way he’s rutting into you, growling in your ear about how you’re his, and he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk. You’re relishing the feel of his huge body covering yours, the way he feels thrusting into you, and you’re so close to your climax.

Then there’s a bang just outside the door. You both know that sound.

In an instant, everything is chaos.

Xavier pushes you to the ground, covering you with his jacket. His gun is in his hand and he’s standing over you. The door is kicked open, and you’re hiding your face and ears as you hear the rapid staccato of gunshots in this enclosed space.

Quiet descends.

And then you’re in his arms, your purse and clothes shoved into your grip, but your body still only covered by his jacket. He moves fast, his eyes scanning the hallways for danger, his ears constantly pivoting. You’re quiet and still, clinging to him. He’ll keep you safe. He always does.

You’re bundled into the back of a car that’s waiting around back, one with tinted windows, bulletproof glass. The driver doesn’t ask where to go, and Xavier doesn’t have to tell him. It’s doubtless one of your family’s safehouses.

Xavier is distant, his dark eyes focused on something outside the window, and you feel like despite everything that you shared tonight, he’s further than ever from you. You crawl into his lap, tuck your head under his chin. He holds you, but it’s an automatic gesture, and you can almost feel the emotional distance as a physical pain.

You want to cry. You don’t.

You arrive at the safehouse. The one you probably wouldn’t need if your father’s “business” was actually on the up-and-up. But he’s got his fingers in a lot of pies, and ties to some sort of organized crime. Xavier gets out of the car first, checks for danger, then hustles you into the building. It’s a high-rise condo with a doorman on your father’s staff. The man nods to Xavier, indicating that everything is fine. He’s too professional to so much as look at the fact that you’re wearing nothing but your bodyguard’s coat. The two of you ride the private elevator up to the suite. The security system is still active, the locks still engaged, and you take it all as a good sign as you punch in the pin to deactivate the alarm and wait just in the foyer as Xavier checks the perimeter.

He nods, signifying it’s clear.

“I need a shower.” You say. Despite your best efforts, you hear the upset in your voice.

“Wait,” Xavier says. He catches your arm, looks at you, and you see everything he’s about to say in his face. You don’t want to hear it, but you let him speak. “This is a bad idea. I got distracted, and I nearly got you killed. We can’t do this. We can’t happen.”

“But you didn’t.” You want to shake him. You’re frustrated with Xavier, but deep down you knew pushing him was a bad idea. “It’s fine, Xavier. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to, and it’s clear that you don’t want this.”

“That’s not…” He runs a big hand over his face, dragging it up and back and through the shaggy hair on top of his head. “I do want you. So much. I probably should have gotten switched off your detail long ago, but I don’t trust anyone else to watch you like I do. And that’s why we shouldn’t… because I almost didn’t react in time.”

“It’s okay.” You lie, feeling your heart breaking as you say those words. You reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m okay, and you did save me, and I’m sorry I pushed you tonight.”

“That’s not…” Xavier growls in frustration, quickly turning away from you. He’s pacing the room, and you recognize that right now he is deeply torn.

“I think we both need a minute.” You finally say, speaking to his back. “I am going to go shower, and then I am going to bed. You can think about what you want. If you want more, join me in my bed. If you don’t, we’ll pretend none of this ever happened, and tomorrow we go back to being perfectly professional.”

He doesn’t move. You try not to let that panic you. You know he values his job, and takes pride in what he does. It’s why he’s your personal guard, and not just one of your father’s random security goons. It’s also what you like about him, and you know he wouldn’t be the Xavier you love (oh gods you do love him don’t you?) if he were willing to compromise himself for a bit of pussy. He needs time and space to come to a decision, and you need to give him that.

You grab some sweats out of the dresser--the clothes kept in safehouses are convenient and flexible, not fashionable or personalized--and climb in the shower. In there, you let the tears you’ve been holding back fall. Tonight was fun, then terrifying, and then heartbreaking. You’re worried Xavier will choose to go on maintaining his professional distance, and then you’ll have to decide if life with him holding you at arm’s length is better or worse than life without him at all.

The bed is big, plush, and cold. You feel small and alone. Anxious thoughts about all the things that you should have done differently with Xavier chase themselves around your head. Sleep eludes you for long enough that you’re tempted to leave the bedroom and find Xavier, throw yourself at him and try to change his mind.

You don’t.

You know that you can’t do that. It’s the wrong choice for a myriad of reasons.

The tears are falling in earnest once more when you hear the quiet creak of the door opening. The figure that stands there, haloed in the light from the hallway is as familiar to you as your own. He hesitates for another minute, then closes the door behind himself as he crosses the distance between the door and your bed.

“Xavier?”

“I can’t go back to watching you from across the room.” He says as he climbs under the blankets and pulls you into his arms. “I don’t know exactly what this means for my career, but I can’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t want you to.” You say, sliding your hands under his shirt so you can touch him directly. You run your hands over the area where soft fur transitions to warm human skin. He shudders and pulls you tighter against him.

“We can talk it out tomorrow,” he says, and you feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he holds you close. “Get some sleep, babe.”

You smile at the pet name, at the idea that everything is future-yous problem, and at the fact that he is here, in your bed, holding you close. You’ll talk tomorrow.

You fall asleep in his arms, feeling like everything is right with the world.

You can find all my writing on my Masterlist. Love what I do? Tip me with a Ko-Fi, and/or back me on Patreon. I also truly appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments. They keep me going. ♥

#Exophilia #kinktober #minotaur boyfriend #monster romance #monster lover #minotaur lover #my writing #reader insert #monster love #grapefruit story #lemon story #monster/reader #monster/human #minotaur

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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7 Days to Die - Part 7

Survive

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Danneel x Reader (Jenneel)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied smut, body parts exploded mentioned (SPN level gore, I don’t go into grave detail), scary situations.

Word Count: 1,752

Summary: After finding their way home, now it’s all a matter of survival. And the reader is going to teach what it really means to survive to the surrounding camps when the horde of all hordes makes its way to their camp.

a/n: This is the final part of this series, hope you guys enjoyed, happy halloween!

Main Masterlist

7 Days to Die Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

It was for once, a normal day. The family heading to the Mass Hall to grab some Breakfast, the kids in school and preschool for the Twins. The couple having a day in.

Y/N finally woke up, having slept through the morning getting much needed rest. She walked out of the bedroom, in a shirt and underwear. Seeing her favorite people outside, enjoying the day. She heads back to the room to grab her some pants to put on, to look decent when she headed outside to join them.

“There’s our girl.” Jensen says, as she exited the cabin and walks over to them. Taking a spot in between them.

“Sleep well?” Danneel asked, hugging Y/N’s waist. Y/N wrapping around Danneel letting her sink into her side. She hums.

“Sure did.” She says with a content smile.

“When do you go on duty?” Y/N asks Jensen.

“Here in a few, just wanted to enjoy my time with my girls.” He says. Wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, bringing her to his side.

“Boss!” they heard.

“No Benny, too soon.” Jensen whined.

“Raiders, closing in.” He says. Jensen didn’t hesitate, he jumped to action.

“Baby, get the kids.” Jensen says.

“Jay Bird, Ro, Zep!” Danneel called out getting up.

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N asked.

“Follow Dee, they’re heading to a safe house we have, wait for us there.” Jensen ordered. Y/N nods.

“Baby come on.” Danneel pleads grabbing Y/N’s hand. Y/N follows.

They heard the battle breaking out, some shots getting too close to home.

“God please be okay.” Danneel prays.

“Hey, look at this!” a raspy voice was heard on the other side.

Silent, quiet, hushed gasps were strangled as the people of the camp tried to keep their cool.

Y/N shoved the group back as far back as the building would allow, the building is roughly that of a small warehouse, but no upper or lower levels. And the main entrance was being messed with as the raiders attempted to enter the safe house.

Y/N readied herself for anything. For what she’s been through, she’s not ready for a group of raiders to take this away from her.

The door burst open, she lunged forward, tackling the male raider to the ground, taking his pistol from his holster. Roundhouse kicking the nearby female raider before she could take a shot at Y/N, earning a grunt and yell from the raider.

Y/N rises, gun in hand and ready to shoot. Gunning down the two raiders, looting their bodies for weapons she could use and hurries back to the safe house, shutting the door as best as she could.

She stays by the door, gun ready to shoot any raider who enters.

“Look boss.” She heard Benny on the other side.

“Who did this?” Jensen asked.

Y/N opens the door to them. “I did it.” Y/N says. “They got in, and I fought them.” She says. As she did she turns on the safety on the gun stuffing it in her waistband at her back.

Jensen, a look of worry and concern flashed across his face as he brought her in a hug.

“At least you’re okay that’s all that matters.” He said, as he pulled out. Then looks to the scared women and children. “It’s safe to come back.” He says. And leads the rest of the camp back.

“They just keep growing, the walkers outnumber the humans ten to one.” Osric says. Osric is best known for his role as Kevin Tran in Supernatural. Most of camp calls him Kevin or Kev.

“If there were a way to unite these camps I’m sure we could stand a chance.” Y/N says.

“Yeah, they’re more focused on themselves only. And even if they did band together, they’ll want something in return.” Jensen says.

“Then have a trade system. Open up trading, we need to start rebuilding, not continue to isolate ourselves from humanity.” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry babe, it’s not happening.” Jensen argues.

Y/N pouts, but also has that face she makes when she’s thinking hard and long. She walks back to the cabin while thinking.

A thought blipped in her mind. She’ll go herself.

What he won’t know won’t hurt him. She thought.

She packed up some clothes, even a white sheet.

She was always good at weaseling her way out of things. She was quite the escape artist. She wasn’t worried or scared for what she was about to do.

She trekked to the nearby camp that had a scrimmage that took Jensen out for a week.

She approached cautiously, wearing the white sheet as a cape holding the corners in her hands as she held her hands up defensively.

The camp leader coming out. Revealing to be Mark Sheppard.

“So this is where you’ve been.” She says.

“Aye, what do you want.” He says harshly.

“Unite with us, a massive horde is making its way up here. Us alone can’t seem to do it, but if we unite as one, we could win.” She says.

“Yeah, and what are the chances of being stabbed in the back?” He asked.

“Mark, we have to rebuild as a community sooner or later, the kids need that. A stable community where they can feel safe, and not worry about a shootout again. You have to put in an effort. And not be scared all the time.” She argues, almost as if she were fed up with the stupid shit going on between the two camps. Between multiple camps across Vancouver.

Mark pauses, thinking for a moment.

“And if you don’t side with us, if no one sides with us, you don’t even have a chance against this horde alone.” She adds.

“Okay, we’ll set up some forces. The horde will not get close.” He says.

“Thank you. We’ll work on a trading system that can benefit everyone.” She says.

“Yeah, same here. Like you said, we could become a community.” He says. She nods.

“See you later then.” She says, turning away to leave with a wave.

“See you darlin’.” He says waving her off.

She visited more and more camps in the surrounding area, giving them a same argument. And they all agreed. The next generations to come need a stable community to grow and feel safe. And all agree to come to an agreement, and work towards a working trading system.

Word of the unity spread like wildfire. And when she returned back to camp, she noticed new faces coming and going. Including Mark.

She saw Jensen in the crowd, and he didn’t look too happy, and motioned her to follow him into the security cabin. He shut the door behind them as they entered. Letting her in first.

“At least I united them.” She says.

“I’ll give you that, but what’s to say they won’t stab us in the back?” he says. “How long will they keep up the good neighbors card?” he asks.

“Jensen, you can’t live in constant fear. ‘sides, you have to try before you can make that judgement.” Y/N argues.

“I don’t like it.” he says.

“Then try to survive the horde.” She argues.

His face softens.

“We have the numbers now. And other camps are getting the picture, uniting as one gets you places. Rather than being the lone wolf and looking out for yourself.” She says. “Besides, being united in one big community can be looking out for yourself. It’s having people you trust watch your back.” She adds.

His gaze on her holds until he looks away, trying to think. He lets out a sigh. He knows deep down she’s right.

“I mean, it’s how I let you and Jared in. I didn’t know you and you trusted me.” She says.

He nods. Casting his gaze down.

She walks over to him, a hand cupping his cheek. He leans in her touch. “I was just trying to increase our chances.” She says. “I didn’t mean to go behind your back and do this.” She says.

He shakes his head. His hand comes up to hers that cupped his cheek. Brushing his thumb along the top of her hand. “I’m just worried is all. It’s great they want to help us.” He says.

“Now, let’s prepare for a horde.” She says.

A day had passed.

“Horde!” a shout could be heard.

Up in the high tower, Jensen and Y/N looked through binoculars to find a horde of zombies stumbling through the forest.

“Let’s hope this works.” Y/N says.

“Yeah.” Jensen says.

An explosion erupts, sending walkers flying, some body parts flying in the distance could be seen through the eyeglasses.

“The camp up there laid out land mines!” Y/N shouts.

“Awesome!” Jensen cheers.

And the fight was an easy one. Many camps did just that, laid out traps, explosives and land mines to shrink the number of zombies that were trudging through the forest.

Not long after sundown there were no zombies standing.

Camps in the distance cheered before Jensen’s camp broke out in the same rejoice in celebration.

Most camps didn’t have to sweat it, some shots rang out, but most explosives and traps did the trick.

“We did it!” Y/N shouted. Jensen hugged Y/N tightly as they rejoiced. “Humanity won!” she cheers.

Jensen bends down to kiss her passionately on her lips. She quickly returned the kiss. They pulled away to find Danneel.

She danced and cheered with their kids; happy they won the fight.

Danneel ran to her husband first, giving him a kiss, then moved to Y/N kissing her. “We did it.” she says.

“I know, this is the first step.” Y/N says.

“This calls for a celebration.” Jensen says, grabbing his lady’s by the waist.

Months had passed, zombies have dwindled to nothing. Humans slowly began to rebuild and live in peace and harmony.

Vancouver became a small settlement, surrounded by other small settlements in the ragged Canadian terrain.

Jensen’s camp has grown over the months. And his family was about to grow, when he sees his girls walking the campgrounds, showing their pregnant bellies. He smiles, excited to see his newborn babies.

It wasn’t until months ago they found a pharmacy with still good pregnancy tests, Y/N and Danneel had to take them after days of feeling sick in the mornings. After being pregnant twice, Danneel knew. But this was Y/N’s first. She didn’t know what it was at first. She didn’t think she was pregnant until she saw the test reveal as much.

Now both women are excited to start this new chapter in their lives. Even if it’s in an Apocalypse World, they were excited, nonetheless.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Please give feedback however you can, like, reblog or send an ask letting me know how you liked it. Your favorite parts. Etc. Happy Halloween, stay home, stay safe. :)

Jensen Tags:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @moonlight-on-her-skin, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy, @salt-n-burn-em-all

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 10/31/2020

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years ago

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Tinderbox, pt 5

Part IV here

The heady scent of freshly brewing coffee stirred Rosie, and she blinked, disorientated. How long since she'd slept that well - deeply and dreamlessly?

She sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over her face. The pillow beside hers was empty.

Had Marshall-

"Coffee?"

He appeared from behind the partition wall which hid the kitchenette, holding two mismatched mugs. His hair curled wildly, and he wore his black boxers and nothing else. His lightly furred chest made desire stir in her belly again.

"Yes please." She took the mug from him, shying away a bit when their fingers brushed, which she knew was ridiculous. They'd done much more than touch hands, last night.

"Listen-"

"I know that-"

They both spoke at the same time. Looking sheepish, Marshall rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

"You first," Rosie said, playing for time.

"Thanks for last night," he eventually said, after a sip of the hot, black brew.

Rosie arched a brow. "Is this where you say thanks, and you had fun, but you don't do relationships?"

He looked stricken for a second, sat down on the bed.

Rosie wouldn't be deterred, though. "I'm a big girl, Detective. I didn't start dreaming of white picket fences and naming babies just because you gave me the best orgasm I've had in years."

She heard herself too late and looked away sharply.

"Rosie."

He said her name so gently, and it sounded beautiful in his accent. She looked up, embarrassed to her core. She'd forgotten never to speak before she'd drunk at least half a cup of coffee.

"Police work is hell on relationships."

He looked like he spoke from experience. Her heart squeezed.

“I didn’t say I wanted one.” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, but she had to protect herself. The moment she’d asked him to step over her threshold, she’d known it’d likely be sex. No more, no less. Was it true that humans were biologically programmed to fall in love with whoever they copulated with? Or some romantic myth?

“Rosie-”

God, she loved and hated how her name sounded in his voice. Melodic. She pushed off the bed. “I need a shower.” She dumped the half-finished coffee on the table that doubled as a painting desk and eating space and headed for the bathroom without looking at him.

I wish he’d go.

I wish he’d stay.

She put the shower on hot, and, still naked from last night, stepped under the spray. She tilted her face up to the water, then heard movement. Marshall stood on the other side of the glass, silent, something sad in his blue, blue eyes.

Because he looked as if he was about to leave, she reached around the edge of the glass, sank her hand into his hair and kissed him softly. “Come in.”

He shed his boxers and followed her under the spray. Thankfully the shower cubicle was the largest thing in the tiny bathroom. Marshall dominated the space as he banded his arms around her, pulling her close, and she felt the drum-drum of his heart as they kissed. He tasted dark and bitter, of coffee and goodbyes, and she hugged him close, trying to say without words that she’d never forget the warm weight of him next to her in bed, the feel of his hair curling between her fingers, the catch in his breath as he’d orgasmed.

“I thought you didn’t sleep so good,” she whispered against his mouth.

His brow winged up. “Evidently, a night with you was what I needed.” He bent forward until their foreheads touched under the heated spray. The gesture was so sweet that it completely disarmed her, and the backs of Rosie’s eyes burned. Don’t go was on the tip of her tongue.

Instead, she released him and reached for her bergamot shower gel, squeezing some into her palm. The thought of him smelling like her, hers, just for a day, made something fierce rear up inside her.

She rubbed her hands together and slid them up into his hair. Marshall dipped his head obediently and Rosie worked her fingers into his curls. The rush of water meant words would be next to useless, and she liked the silence.

He rinsed his hair afterwards and turned her, washing hers. Rosie let him take care of her, desire arrowing straight to her centre at the feel of him hot, hard and ready against the small of her back.

As the water cascaded over her, cleaning the shampoo residue off her hair, Rosie leant into Marshall as his hands cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples to hardness. He let his right hand play, slid his left down her body to where she was slick with want. She gasped as he rubbed her in ever-decreasing circles, learning how she liked to be touched, how fast, how gentle. She came on a sharp exhale, her body bowing against his in an orgasm almost more memorable than last night’s.

Rosie turned in Marshall’s arms, her hands immediately going to his erection. He caught her wrist, met her gaze.

Don’t have to, his blue eyes said.

This man and his puppy dog face. She rolled her eyes. He grinned. Her heart skipped a beat.

Slicking her hands with a little more shower gel - the smell of bergamot would never be the same again - she got to work, fisting him with one hand, cupping his balls with the other, savouring the way his eyes drifted closed. He braced one large hand on the shower wall behind her, kept the other on her hip as she handled him. Rosie watched his face, watched him bite his lower lip as he got close, and hell if it wasn’t one of the hottest experiences of her life.

He bit off her name and she stroked faster, harder, twisting her wrist.

“Fuck.” He spilled over her hand in a hot rush, the muscles of his belly clenching as he thrust into her hand. His breathing came raggedly as he gathered her close, dropping his head and pressing his face into the curve of her neck.

He reached behind her, shut the water off, grabbed a couple of towels from the rail under the sink and passed her one.

Rosie took it, rubbing it over her dripping-wet hair. Her body half-shivered in post-coital bliss.

“You fell asleep last night before I could ask you. Is Marshall your first name?”

He scrubbed the towel over his face. Droplets of water ran down his chest. “No.”

“What is your first name?” she wrapped the towel around her, tucking it in just under her right arm. Steam from their long shower floated in the air around their bodies.

“Walter.”

“That’s….. Not what I expected.”

He chuckled. “My brother’s called Charles - Well, Charlie, mostly. I think I pulled the short straw.”

She gazed at him for a moment, and then an alarm sounded from the living area, and whatever moment they’d been having was broken.

Marshall secured the towel around his hips and bent to his jeans, retrieving his cell phone. Whatever he saw on it made that stony look appear back on his face. “I’ve got to go.”

“I know.” She hugged the towel to her. Salami jumped down from the futon and rubbed up against her leg, sensing her discomfort. “Thanks again.”

“It’s…” Indecision paraded over his face, then he dropped the towel and crossed to her in three strides, yanking her close and kissing her fiercely, holding her with a gentleness that suggested he thought she might break. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

From across the room, his cell phone complained again. He let Rosie go, then dressed methodically; boxers, socks, jeans, hip holster, boots, t-shirt, parka. He shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

Rosie busied herself feeding Salami and brushing her hair. The last thing she needed was to be caught mooning like a teenager. She glanced over to see him fit the Glock snugly into his hip holster, and then he stood by her front door, smelling like her shower gel, sadness ghosting around his mouth.

“Goodbye, Marshall,” she said softly. Her pride made her stay rooted to the spot by her bed, hairbrush in hand.

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a hot second, and she almost said, stay, stay and kiss me again, but she kept her lips still and silent, and he nodded once, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible, and opened her door and then he was gone.

Thanking my beta, @ly--canthrope !

Tagging: @brokenthelovely @mary-ann84 @leapingoveroblivion @boiled-onionrings @pinkzsugar @dr-kayleigh-dh

#night hunter fic #nomic fic #walter marshall #henry cavill fic

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craftholsters · 1 year ago

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outroshooky · 5 years ago

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everything i wanted | ljh

⇢ genre: oneshot (fo4!au) (a touch of angst, mostly fluff)

⇢ pairing: lee jihoon x reader

⇢ word count: 2.4k

⇢ audio: everything i wanted / billie eilish

⇢ warnings: mentions of death, grief, guns, alcohol. this is a post-apocalyptic au even if the piece itself is fluffy; such themes are evident.

⇢ a/n: a huge thank you to @hereisleo for writing the fo4!au that inspired this lovely little mess. i love the concept so much and after sitting on it for a few months as well as drawing inspiration from recent life developments and a conversation with my therapist, i’m proud to present my first fic for seventeen! there’s a bit of my heart in this fic. enjoy!

“And how did you deal with that, all of the violence? All of the threats, the danger, all of it on a daily basis?”

“I mean, I’ve lived every day with the feeling like I was going to die anyway, so it wasn’t anything new, really. Just kind of like, oh well. I might die today. Not much I can do about it.”

When you were young, you dreamt of an apartment in the city. Not a big one or a fancy penthouse, just someplace to rest your head for the night, to dream and wonder and hope and even pray, best as your little heart could. An apartment, perhaps with a cat and a spare room with an easel and windows that sprawled from floor to ceiling. Like you saw in those magazines from so long ago, the ones with frayed edges and holes burned through every other letter. Easy to imagine a world with smooth monochrome, a polished Mr. Handy in the kitchen, a warm bed, a full heart.

No matter how much murky fog settled, rolling through the trees like a sickly ocean of green, it never diminished the glow of the stars up above. It was a story you told yourself, that the stars were little pinpricks poked in the soft blanket of cosmos, draped over the world like a celestial cathedral ceiling. Like so many stories you told yourself, in fact. The radroaches in the basement were just making friends, not eating away at the damp wood. The gunshots far-off weren’t territorial disputes between groups of Gunners, only fireworks sent up in unknown celebration. Celebrating life, maybe— one day more with dirt between your toes, one day less with food on your plate.

Yes the days marched on, one by one by one. No matter how hard you begged, pleaded, argued with the universe to stop the sun from rising just for a minute, an hour, a day, liquid light would unfailing seep into each corner of the world every morning, pausing just for a breath. One singular breath, a slice between pure gold and total black that bled pink and purple and orange and sometimes green, too. A cut into the side of reality as the stars glittered just over the edge of cold, cruel awakening.

You met awakening on a Tuesday morning, when voices hollered from the jagged remains of your shattered bedroom window. It was a one-house settlement; you stood no chance against the band of men and women with war paint on their faces and chipped pipe pistols. Not enough time to grab the shotgun, not enough time to grab the money. Your fingers twisted in the bedsheets, but you remembered the commands to stay quiet and still; if you didn’t move a muscle, didn’t move an inch, they wouldn’t look for more. If you screwed your little eyes shut and didn’t look, they couldn’t see you. If you wriggled your little body under the bed with a pillow crammed over your head, one ear to the floor, they couldn’t hear you. If you bit down hard on your lip, you wouldn’t cry. Not even when you heard the sullen thud of bodies echoing up the stairs, not even when the boots stopped inches from your face in all of their dusty leather glory.

In your childhood bedroom, a single lightbulb hung from a wire strung from the ceiling. Somewhat rustic, but what wasn’t on that little farm? A single light illuminated the moth-eaten rug stretched over the splintering floorboards, the corner desk dragged in from a local middle school abandoned years and years ago, the patchwork teddy bear with a loose eye but the softest paws. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. Your world. Yours, glowing by the light of a single burning filament, a lowly star dangling from on high. Even as the boots and jeers and howls faded, the red dwarf smoldered in its glass cradle. It kindled as you shook like a leaf in the wind, as night crumbled bleak and whistled through the open front door, banging in its frame. It spluttered as you finally, finally eased yourself out from under those rusted bedsprings, splinters pricking your palms in all of their painful glory. And finally, as you closed the top fold of your knapsack, slipping a 10mm into the holster on your belt, it fluttered once more and died. The generator had failed, choking without its daily dose of oil. The sky had fallen; the world had ended twice now, it seemed. Once before you had even been born, and once a mere ten years after.

Ten years after, and another ten. Twenty years since the day you came into the world squirming and screeching, and ten years since the day it had rotted at the seams. Nine since you raided abandoned house after abandoned house day after day, taking only what you could carry and bedding wherever you could. Six since you’d found yourself in a settlement of ghouls as you traversed the Commonwealth, a rifle slung over your back and your belly full of mulberries. Five since you’d bought a mutt off a trader you met by Concorde and named him Nate, because it was the name you’d always wanted to give a dog if you’d had one as a child. Four since you’d sold him to a family in Sanctuary Hills, to a child whose eyes shone with joy just as his joints grated with something a little less than human. Three since you’d gotten into a skirmish with a pack of Super Mutants, had both legs broken at the knees, and were dumped on a side road outside of Mass Bay Medical Center.

Three years since you had calmly waited for death to creep up in all of his silent glory. Perhaps he would stride down the alley confident, courageous. Maybe he’d take a seat, invite himself to coffee and conversation. What you wouldn’t give for a cup of the shittiest coffee you’d ever tasted. Or maybe a swig of vodka.

Three years since it was not death who crept up on you, but a blonde-haired raider whose shaggy locks hung down past his jawline, cut cold as a knife. Three years since twelve others followed him to encircle a wanderer who had already given up. Raiders. A death sentence. This is where life ended, not all those years ago but here, now, in this shitty alley outnumbered thirteen to one.

Jeonghan told you later that you blacked out. A move you, for a long time, considered cowardly. You couldn’t face the end regardless of how painful it was. But this is when Seungkwan interjects to note how much blood you had lost and how you really couldn’t blame yourself at all. Soonyoung notes how carefully they had to move you, how they tied their jackets together to make a sling, fought tooth and nail for every half-mile gained to the so-called Jewel of the Commonwealth. Seungcheol and Hansol are quiet, remembering. Jihoon’s hand winds around yours, his fingers interlocking over your calloused knuckles.

A naked bulb hangs from the ceiling from a single wire. An apartment. Beyond spacious for Diamond City living, with a double loft and rooftop seating. There’s a barbecue grill that Chan wants to fix up sometime, if he can find the right parts for it. You can see the stars on the nights when the stadium lights aren’t too bright, buzzing in the stillness. As still as you can get in a world that is always in motion, flexing and burning and rebuilding over and over.

Commitment in the Commonwealth was rare. Why commit with the threat of everything you care about being yanked away from you day by day by day? Why care for anything less than survival when even bare necessity is a privilege? Why build any sort of lasting commitment when in the end, it will all fall through as the sky collapses in on itself with nary a rush of breath to her name?

There was, however, something that the world neglected to tell you. The world, universe, whatever you want to call it— she has a sense of humor, that one. Because in the midst of the pain and anger and trauma, there was a boy out there who did not have to look heavenward to find the stars, for they nestled in the umber glint of his eyes. There was a boy with a heart bigger than the roar of the sea and quieter than the hiss of the foam, a heart that opened itself without question, with everything to lose. His lips curve more perfectly than the edges of any petal, his hands smaller and finer than any pre-war relic. Jihoon is rough, a gem uncut by the sands of time, the grains of struggle. He is beautiful.

Yours. His is yours. You are his. You haven’t been anybody’s in a long, long time. You were a daughter once. Your parents’. And then you weren’t. That too, torn away from you. But here you find yourself, blankets wrapped around your waist, head on his chest, your leg wrapped around his own. Again, somebody’s. His. Yours.

He’s always held you like this, not too tight, but not as if you are about to slip from his grasp. Secure. Security was a foreign concept until he taught it to you. Broke you down easily; once, you didn’t shatter under his gaze like you have for so long. He’d buy you a bottle and take you for a stroll through the narrow streets of Diamond City, silent in that special way of his. Very simply, he would listen.

It had been so long since anybody listened. In the space he gave, you filled the gap with stories: stories of being young, of wandering too close to a Deathclaw den, of remembering the barest tendrils of compassion from a mother’s face blurred beyond recognition. It was late one night and you were rushing to get the words out, tripping over each other, recounting the boots and the gunshots and the thudding of bodies and—

He is there, everywhere, all around you. His arms snug against your back, your face in his neck as you wept and wept and wept. Ten years’ worth of trauma and terror and running from oneself, and yet you could not find a single ounce of rejection in Lee Jihoon. Not a meager scrap left out for the dogs. Just his hand in your hair and his lips at your temple, and his fingers trembling as he murmurs in your ear. He wishes he could take every jagged edge of pain away, pluck it from your soul and watch it whirl as it sinks to the bottom. He knows he can’t rip out every shard, but he swears to try his best. Your eyelids brush his neck as they flutter shut and squeeze him ever closer.

Love is a word immense in nature and terrifying in practice, looming like a creaking skyscraper over the land of torment. But with him, it went without question: he loves you. You love him. He didn’t need to form or force out the syllables when he insisted on cradling you that night, staying awake to fend off any nightmares that might force their way into your shell of safety. A completed Xanadu as the devil’s puppet strings play a fearsome melody right outside the door.

When Jihoon sleeps, he exhales through his nose, breath tickling your scalp. His fingers somehow always find your own, even when he is in the sweet throes of dreaming. He cradles you every night, arm around your waist. He speaks in his sleep too, sometimes slurred syllables, sometimes a soft, drowsy sound. If he wakes to relieve himself, he’ll slip out from under the covers and return with the same gentleness he left with. You raise your arm and he snuggles underneath, your cheek to his back. Security. It is so much more with him.

Jihoon had asked you once how you settled in the midst of the dust, how you dealt with the echoes of your past. They crept up on you in the unbridled landscape of your dreams, twisted every hope into a malignant thing whose boots always found themselves mere inches from your face. It was hard to dial back the adrenaline, the pulsing undercurrent in every interaction that told you death was near, be careful, be careful. It was a world he straddled, but did not inhabit; he could not fathom setting up furniture, tidying up the corners. You were frank with him, perhaps too frank; it was all too easy when you lived with that threat every single day, the thought that you could die at any moment. It was comfortably numb, like nursing a bottle of Bobrov’s. How ironic, then, that the boy who straddled two worlds was the one to pull you out of your own by his sheer goodness, raw, unhinged.

Two worlds inhabited in one lifetime. Daughter, companion. Titles, meaningless until meaning is breathed into them by the power of a maker. Two naked lightbulbs hang from two rusted ceilings. An apartment in the city. Everything you wanted, in as much capacity as it could be given. The monochrome may be tarnished and it might get drafty in the winter, but there’s a warm bed inhabited by two bodies, not just one. Two. Two becoming one by unspoken word, and with that thought, Jihoon stirs.

He squirms. A sleepy groan. Your arm slips over his shoulder as he rolls onto his side to face you, gritty eyes cracking open. He whispers to you sweet things, gentle things. “Nightmare?”

“Nah.” You toy with the ends of his hair; his eyelids flutter. “Just thinking.”

He’s fighting consciousness for every word, drowsiness eminent in the way he shuffles closer to your warmth by his side. “Wan’ talk about it?”

“In the morning, baby.” He buries his head in your chest. You bury a smile in his hair. “Sleep.”

Jihoon is goodness and light and comfort. Understanding and tenderness and fondness, unadulterated, unfiltered. Everything you dreamt of in the rosy hues cast by a child’s single wish, stitched in the threads of the quilt of the universe.

His breathing slows. You press a kiss to his forehead, murmur a promise against the bridge of his nose.

The corner of his mouth pulls, just a hair. His fingers twitch. “I love you too.”

The bare bulb flickers, and with one careful movement, you tug on the string and extinguish the light.

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #jihoon fluff #jihoon angst #seventeen au #kpop fanfiction #kpop angst #kpop fluff #fo4 au #outroshooky

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musicallynerdy · 4 years ago

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hey ryn long time no see that d&d ask meme is insanely cool (frankly I love all of them so I tried to choose but there are still a lot, feel free not to answer all of these), so: 2, 3, 7, 9, 11, 12, 15, 16, 20, 23, 24, 26, 27, 31, 33, 35, 44, 60, 72, 77, 87, 93, 94, 97!

Hi Taylor! Long time no see! I hope you’re hanging in there! @hoot-h00t So, Hannah sent me a few of these last night on my D&D sideblog (@gmsguild) so I’ll skip those ones but I’m gonna do the rest! I’m gonna focus on my primary character, Sahar, my tiefling wizard in my home Tal’Dorei game. 2. Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life? I think our party rogue most likely. A few weeks ago (in game time) the rogue saved her life (literally- failed death save, would have been dead if that shadow hit me again), and Sahar returned the favor in a fight with a succubus, so there’s some trust there.

3. What are your character’s core moral beliefs? I think she’s redeveloping her morals for the first time in a decade. She’s becoming a better person and it’s interesting really interesting to play. She never hurts kids, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect those she loves, and she’s devoted to the pursuit of knowledge. She’s got a dark side and isn’t afraid to hurt or kill to get what she needs, but she’s starting to try not to cause more harm. I think she feels the need to make up for what she’s done in the past.

7. Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc? Sahar Tel’Urdyn is a deep purple-skinned tiefling with these stormy grey eyes with catlike pupils and a light blue nictitating membrane that she can flick over them. Her horns come from her forehead and then curl back forward similar to but not the same as a bighorn sheep (I don’t really know how to describe them?), and she has a thin pointed tail that flicks like a cat’s when she’s excited. Her hair is a darker purple, close to black, and is pulled back in a single french braid. She has a number of piercings, earlobes and cartilage. One of her cartilage piercings has a thin chain that connects to a band around one of her horns. She also has a belly button piercing, a nose stud, and a ring in her tail, all in silver tones. With the exception of the chain, she wears almost entirely studs, bars, or rings. Nothing that could catch on something or make noise. She has a number of scars and tattoos from the Tragic Backstory, but the most interesting is probably a lot of blackwork on her left arm that extends from her hand up to her elbow, almost like she dipped her arm in ink (although there is a triangular design on the hand, almost looking like a bit of that type of glove that only attaches to the middle finger?)-- or more accurately it looks like blackwork but it’s actually a lot of really intricate work, lots of script and sigils. She wears a white, v-necked, with lacing in the V, like a flowy pirate shirt sorta thing, with black pants and brown leather boots, and a dark blue almost black sash around her waist. She has a dagger at her waist and her spellbook sort of sits in a bit of a holster thing in the small of her back. She hasn’t actually picked up much over the journey... she’s got a really nice dark gray traveling cloak she took off of... some dead body somewhere. She’s also got a wand of magic missiles tucked into a leather thigh sheath. She’s probably got a scar or two from the one battle I’ll detail below in number 15. 9. What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? She grew up worshiping the Moonweaver but sort of lost a lot of her faith during the Tragic Backstory period. As a wizard she also prays occasionally to Ioun. She doesn’t really have opinions on other people’s worship so long as it doesn’t start causing her problems.

11. Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. So my group is a crew of old friends from my hometown, so we haven’t played in person in a while.

12. What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? To crack this puzzle cube and learn more about conjuration and transmutation magic in the process.

15. What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character? Oof so we broke this girl out of prison, she’s the daughter of a crime lord, but in the process we sort of... alerted the entire town to what we were doing and our barbarian punched the guard captain in the face? So we were burnt and tried to get out of town and hide, but they sent guards after us and we had no spells left and our barbarian had one rage and our rogue, our warlock, and our druid all went in with like low health and Sahar ended up having to be a tank for the battle and was just casting shocking grasp and somehow we still won? We killed six guards coming after us and somehow got away. That was the moment it was like ok we’re a team and we have each other’s backs even when shit royally hits the fan.

16. If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? Probably a bard or a warlock. Magic is just like, ingrained in her and she’s a curious motherfucker so like, if her troupe had lived she probably would have become a bard, or she would have stumbled into something deep and dark and made a pact with something for knowledge. If she had focused in her Tragic Backstory more on the sneaking bit of being an assassin rather than the “i will kill people creatively with magic” bit, possibly a rogue too.

23. If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? To not get kidnapped by the crew of the Talon’s Breath because that just started a decade of bad things. On the other hand, without that she probably would never have gotten to Tal’Dorei from Marquet and would never have found the party, which she’s starting to count as the best experience in her life. But it doesn’t erase the previous decade.

24. Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? Definitely our party rogue. Tragic Backstory Buddies

26. What would your character say their best trait would be? “My Wit, of course” (her virtue name she used for years was Wit, so that’s a pun)

27. What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Ooh tough one. She’s afraid of losing her powers, I think. Her magic has been what has kept her alive and allowed her to become who she is and I think she’s wrapped up so much of her identity into the magic she wouldn’t know who she is without it. She uses minor illusion like people in the real world use a fidget spinner. I think she’d have a hard time functioning without her magic. It was a source of trauma and now it’s the way she’s helped herself through that trauma. She’s definitely going to need to deal with that at some point but therapists are hard to come by in Tal’Dorei.

31. What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) Ya know I’m not sure. She’s sort of the brains (her intelligence is like a full 4 points above anyone else’s in the party) but really our party is six dumbasses held together by spit and a prayer and the fact that they keep stumbling on sketchy shit in every small town they come to (literally, they’ve had one town that hasn’t had sketchy shit going on in it) (well, and one city. So two stops on their entire journey).

33. What person does your character admire most? In our party? Tough choice. Probably Thea, our warlock. She’s a 16 year old human girl and Sahar just thinks the world of this kid. She also has this huge Big Sister drive to keep this girl safe and also teach her about magic.

35. Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? 10 in strength (I rolled well) but in character, she never really had a chance to develop it. She was the prisoner of a cartel for years and just didn’t have the space or the means to build up her strength.

44. Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? Brain. 18 intelligence. She’s a wizard. Everything is logic.

60. What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Answered over at @gmsguild with number 20!

72. Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Oof yikes... honestly? Probably Mire, our barbarian.

77. If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? hmmm..... Something with spells. She’s such a magic nerd she would do something stupid for knowledge.

87. What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I’m only skipping this one because I’m not really familiar with tarot

93. Who in the party does your character trust the least? All of them. We all have flaws that make us untrustworthy in particular circumstances. But also she knows all of them have her back if she needs it. She just needs to know their weaknesses so she can help protect them.

94. What is your character’s biggest flaw? She always has to be in control. It comes from years of not being in control and now she’s a bit of a control freak.

97. What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Happiness. I don’t think she knows what that means yet, but she left employment with a crime lord that could have made her very rich because she knew it wasn’t making her happy. Thanks, Taylor, that was fun! Took me like 2 hours, but whatev. Hope you’re hanging in there! Also I’m reading back through this and realizing like, folks trying to piece together her Tragic Backstory from this and my post on @gmsguild are going to have a rough time Much love to my party yall are amazing and I love you (@geekoz87, @skirtsandbattleaxes, @miniaturetanks, @vaguelyconcerning, @tenebris-felidae)

#hoot-h00t #ask games #d&d ask games #my characters #d&d

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hell-bound-stories · 4 years ago

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two years: working title

“Mmhhmm”, try again” The doctor said, looking closely at Azz’s hands.

“Ugh ok ok” Azz closed their eyes, trying to focus, but nothing happened. Azz growled, standing up in frustration, “See, I can’t do this!!”

Azz had been trying to summon their soulfire for the better part of an hour, with no success. The rest of their first check up went fine, the doctor didn’t expect Azz to struggle with this. Showing your soulfire was something every demon could do at will. This did nothing but raise more concern with him about Azz.

“Ok” the doctor sighed, “we’ll try again tomorrow” He said walking over to his desk to set his clipboard down.

“Oh thank stars” Azz said, laying down on the floor. So far they found being dead very very tiring.

Without warning some stranger burst threw the door into the office, “HELLLLOOOOOO DARLINGSSS”

“Oh for fucksake” The doctor said quietly, rubbing his eyes.

Azz was more startled by the weird white round creature that had scampered over his body, quickly running over to the stranger. It had a small bark even though it had no mouth, and its tail was wagging at a million miles an hour.

The stranger bent down, picking up the creature, “oh yes hello sweetheart” They said while coddling it, rubbing its belly, “I missed you so much, yes I did”. The creature clearly loved the stranger.

“You didn’t call” The doctor groaned.

“I never call!” The stranger happily replied.

The man was slightly taller than the doctor. He had dark red horns with the typical red hue at the tip. Unlike the doctor's horns, which curved upwards, his horns curved backwards. Both of them had a gold band on their left horn. His skin was more grey than the doctors, his wings were a rich deep blue, and his tail was long and thin. While the doctor's voice was deep and gruff, the stranger's voice was smooth, almost seductive. He wore what looked like a traditional white chef's coat, simple dark blue pants, and black boots.He also had a holster on his belt that had a knife in it.

He was the chef.

Azz was still on the floor, not caring about the stranger. They’ve had a long day and all they wanted to do was nap.

“Besides” The chef said, “I brought you lunch!” He placed the creature back on the ground and walked over to the desk, setting down a simple brown paper bag. This grabbed Azz’s attention.

“Food?” Azz sprung up and ran over to the desk joining the other two men. Azz completely forgot about their hunger, “Can I have some? I haven’t eaten all day”

“Of course” the chef said smiling, completely unfazed by Azz’s presents. He pulled out a simple sandwich from the bag and handed it to them. Azz snatched the food and quickly ran back to his spot on the floor, starting to devour the sandwich. It tasted like the best thing they’d ever eaten.

“Hey” The doctor protested.

“Oh don't worry Mr.grumpy, I brought two” He said, pulling another sandwich out of the bag.

“Thanks, but how-” The doctor started

“How did I know about them?” The chef finished, gesturing to Azz, who was now fighting over the sandwich with the white creature from before, “You thought we wouldn’t notice when they woke up too?”

The doctor took a bite of his food sitting down in his desk chair, “I suppose not”

They both looked over at Azz, who wasn’t paying attention to either men, busy fighting the round white creature over their food on the ground. The chef leaned against the desk in front of the doctor.

“So” He started, “That's the angel boy?”

“Yep”

“I expected more, they don’t look like an angel at all” The chef was slightly disappointed.

“Yes, but looks aren't everything” The doctor looked at the chef, “I know you can feel it”

“Yeah” the chef scoffed, “The whole block can feel it, everyone is avoiding this place”

The doctor sighed, “You should have seen us walking threw the city”

“Oh jeez” The chef knew that probably wasn’t fun for either of them. They both knew that life for Azz down here wasn’t going to be fun. They both looked back over at Azz, who had, for now, won the battle and was sitting down on top of the creature eating their sandwich in victory.

“What’s wrong with them?” The chef could tell a lot of things about them when off. The doctor silently handed him the clipboard, taking another bite of his sandwich. The chef looked over it, his eyes widened, “........wow”

“Mmhm” The doctor nodded.

“That is” The chef paused, flipping threw the papers, “so much”

“Yep, and it's still day one, who knows what else might happen over time”

The chef was shocked. Everything about Azz was unheard of. Their small size, their weak fire, their abnormally pale skin and bright red eyes, topped off with the lack of horns and a tail. The only normal thing about them was their strength, but even that felt wrong because of their small size. Without a doubt the strangest thing about Azz was their arrival in Hell.

Azz showed up in the facilities just like any other soul, however it didn’t take long for the staff to notice something was up with them. The strong angel aurora surrounding them was impossible to ignore. Everyone agreed that keeping them around could only end badly, thinking that they were a bad omen. That's when the doctor was called to look over the situation. The doctor always had the most trusted medical opinion, being among the oldest demons in Hell had its benefits, however his actions would cause the loss of his respect, but he couldn't care less. Unlike everyone else, the doctor had a good feeling about Azz. The feeling of promise and a bright future. Against everyone's wants and wishes he brought Azz to a cave outside the city, and near the surface. It would be another week before they actually woke up.

The chef looked back over the clipboard, “ wait, this say’s their horns and tail are powered by emotion”

“Yep” The doctor said nonchalantly.

“What does that mean?”

“Watch” The doctor did a small whistle, calling over his around white companion. The creature quickly stood up and ran over to him, causing Azz to fall over onto their face, making a mess of their sandwich. Azz growled, very much done with all the creatures shit, horns and a tail quickly appeared out of nowhere. They lept after the creature, tackling it once more to the ground before it could reach its destination, starting another fight.

“Whoa” The chef was speechless.

“Yeah” the doctor said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.

“How does that even-” The chef was so amazed by everything Azz did. They were the most interesting thing to happen to both of the men in thousands of years.

“I have no idea” The doctor cut him off, “ok you two, break it up”

They both stopped mid-fight, and looked at the doctor, “He started it” Azz quickly said. The creature quickly growled back at them.

“I dont care” the doctor said rubbing his eyes, “Azz go upstairs to your room and get some rest, Crouton go lay down”

They both groaned, slowly making their way over to the back door. The creature laid down in its small bed as Azz unlocked the door and made their way upstairs.

The door closed behind Azz, and the chef immediately burst out laughing.

“What?” the doctor was so tired.

“Nothing, you just have all the elegance of a dad” He said, smirking.

The doctor scoffed, “yeah well a better dad than you’d ever be”

“Oh? Wanna bet?”

#hellbound #the doctor and the chef #and azz #Azz is their too

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atths--twice · 5 years ago

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Right Round

Drabble choice mixed with an idea I had for Mulder and Scully to question a woman in a strip club. To the best of my knowledge, they never did something of that nature. So I checked the prompt challenge and chose three numbers to add to this particular story. Hope you enjoy. ❤️

#4 “I’m too sober for this.”

#7 “Well, that’s tragic.”

#18 “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Mulder walked into the house, the door slamming behind him. He tossed his jacket on the couch, and went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer. He pulled it from the fridge and opened it, drinking half of it down in a few large gulps.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, before taking another drink. He shook his head as he wiped his mouth, thinking of the past few hours, the situation he found himself in, and the sheer happiness he saw on Scully’s face at his expense.

They were working a case, helping out on one actually, and were sent to question a witness. When they pulled into the parking lot, Mulder’s stomach dropped seeing where they would find their witness.

“You sure this is the right address, Scully?” he asked, groaning out a sigh. He gripped the steering wheel and then put his head on it. He heard Scully chuckle and he groaned again.

“7614 Hunter Avenue, yup, this is the place,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Why are you worried, Mulder? It could be any one of the establishments here.”

“You know as well as I do, that it won’t be. It will be that one just as sure as the sun is shining,” he said as he raised his head and looked out the windshield before glancing back at her. The smile on her lips and light in her eyes made him shake his head. “You find this funny, don’t you?”

“I do. I really do,” she nodded, as her smile grew. He sighed and closed his eyes again, before turning the car off and opening his door.

“Let’s get this over with, Scully,” he said, her laughter making him groan as he closed the door. He looked at the building they would be entering, The Pretty Kitty, and he shook his head.

Scully met him on the curb and gestured for him to go ahead of her. He gave her a look and she stayed put, her arm outstretched, waiting for him to walk inside first. Heaving a big sigh, he stepped ahead of her and pushed the door open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Hundreds of different scents were fighting to be the victor, and one could not yet claim the prize. It was like walking into how he imagined a glitter factory smelled and he was not a fan.

Next, it was dark. Way darker than the bright afternoon outside and his pupils were having a hard time adjusting to the dramatic change in light. He turned around and saw Scully behind him, a small smile on her face, no doubt enjoying his feeling of awkwardness.

The music in the club was loud and a song was playing that he could not place. A woman walked by in a hot pink push-up bra and a small black skirt with white stockings and garters. She had a pierced belly button with a shiny diamond and her long blonde hair was in two braids. All she needed was a lollipop in her mouth and she would be the quintessential star of almost any porn video or magazine cover.

Mulder felt nervous and guilty even looking at her, especially with Scully close to him.

“Hi there,” she smiled as she came close to them, putting her hand on Mulder’s arm and he tensed up. “What’s the matter, sweetie? You seem tense.” She pouted and then put a hand on his chest. “I could help you loosen up, if you’d like …” Her hand began to slide a little lower and he stepped quickly back as Scully stepped closer.

“Actually, we’re looking for someone,” Scully said, taking out her badge and showing it to her. “I’m Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder. We’re looking for Rose Meadows, could you tell us where we could find her?” Her no-nonsense work tone made him feel hotter than any scantily clad woman ever could.

Except for when she was both, he thought with a groan, as memories of years of Scully’s voice and body bringing him pleasure rushed to the surface. Not now, you idiot. And goddamnit, not here. Everyone will get the wrong idea.

He cleared his throat and took out his own badge, fumbling just a bit, making Scully’s lips twitch as she fought back a smile. “Yeah, I’m Agent Mulder,” he said lamely, and Scully flicked her eyes to him.

“The FBI?” the girl said, looking nervous and scared. “Why are you here? And what do you want with Rosie? She hasn’t done anything wrong. There’s nothing wrong with stripping.” She was now angry and Scully shook her head, stepping closer to her.

“Miss, Rose isn’t in any trouble. She is listed as a witness to a crime and we are here to speak to her. That’s all it is,” Scully smiled at her.

“Yeah, I know about that. She called the cops, but they didn’t do anything about it,” she said, crossing her arms and looking at Scully, her eyes hard.

“I’d beg to differ,” Scully said, putting her badge away. “We’re here now, so something is being done.” She forced a smile and the girl sighed as she looked at her.

“Well, I need to tell Big Paul you’re here. But, Rose is up next, so I guess you can wait here and watch her,” she glanced at Mulder and uncrossed her arms. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the show.” She winked at him and turned to walk away. Mulder stared after her and then looked at Scully.

“What does she mean?” he asked and then music began to play, the lights dimmed further, and the stage lights came up. “Oh … fuck.” He closed his eyes as he realized what was about to happen. Opening them, he saw Scully smiling as she stepped closer to him.

A woman, apparently their witness Rose, was sliding down the pole to the music, in a bra and a short plaid skirt. As he watched her, Mulder wished the floor would swallow him up.

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

Hey, walk out the house with my swagger

Hop in there with dough, I got places to go

People to see, time is precious

I look at my Cartier, outta control

Just like my mind where I'm goin'

No women, no shawties, no nothin' but clothes

No stoppin' now, my Pirellis on roll

I like my jewelry that's always on whoa

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, Mulder saw Scully moving her head to the music, even surprisingly mouthing the words, and making comments about how impressive Rose was as she danced. She seemed to be enjoying herself and Mulder never felt so annoyed with her in his entire life.

I know the storm is comin'

My pockets keep tellin' me it's gonna shower

Call up my homies

It’s on and poppin tonight cause it’s meant to be ours

We keep a fade-away shot

Cause we be ballin', it's platinum Patron every hour

Lil mama, I owe you just like the flowers

Girl you the truth with all of that goody power cause

“Damn. I have that same bra,” Scully said, leaning in close to tell him, as they watched Rose grab the pole and swing, wrapping her legs around it.

“Jesus, Scully, I know,” he groaned, his head dropping down.

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

From the top of the pole I watch her go down

She got me throwing my money around

Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found It’s going down down

Up and down the pole, Rose moved, making Scully exhale and say whoa more times than Mulder could count.

From the top of the pole I watch her go down

She got me throwing my money around

Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found

It’s going down down

Hey! Shawty must know I'm the man

My money love her like a number one fan

Don't open my mouth, let her talk to my bands

My Benjamin Franklins

Rose danced around the stage, taking her skirt off and tossing it behind her, before shaking her head around as she grabbed the pole and bounced up and down.

A couple of grands, I got rubberbands

My paper planes making her dance

Get dirty all night, that's part of my plan

We building castles that's made out of sand

She's amazing, her fire blazing, hotter than cajun

Girl won't you move a lil' closer?

Time to get paid, it's maximum wage

That body belongs on a poster

I'm in a daze, that bottom is waving at me, like “Damn it, I know you”

You wanna shoot like a gun out a holster

Tell me whatever then I'll be your gopher

“You know, I used to have those underwear too, but I lost them, or … something happened to them,” Scully said, leaning in closer so he could hear her. She shrugged her shoulders and Mulder groaned again. He knew she remembered exactly what happened to those underwear of hers.

Pulled too quickly from her body one night, their need for one another too great, they had ripped beyond repair and been thrown out.

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

From the top of the pole I watch her go down

She got me throwing my money around

Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found

It's going down down

“Do you have any idea how tight her core muscles have to be to do that?” Scully asked him as they watched her dance and use the pole repeatedly, spinning and moving around quicker than seemed possible.

From the top of the pole I watch her go down

She got me throwing my money around

Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found

It's going down down

Yeah! I'm spending my money

I'm outta control

Somebody help me

She's taking my bank roll

But I'm king of the club

And I'm wearing the crown

Popping these bottles, touching these models

Watching they asses go

Down down down

“Seriously, Mulder, she’s amazing,” Scully said, shaking her head, both of them nearly slack jawed as they watched her. “You know, I thought of taking a pole dancing class. It’s offered as a class by my place, but I don’t think I could ever do it the way she does.”

Mulder huffed out a huge breath and walked away from her a few steps, his body on the verge of betraying him.

Scully in a pole dancing class? Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m too sober for this, he thought, the images vivid in his head, causing him to take some deep breaths to steady himself.

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

The song ended and he turned around again, catching sight of the backside of Rose as she left the stage, in just the aforementioned underwear, her skirt and bra held in her hands.

“You missed the end of the dance,” Scully smirked at him. “The good stuff, Mulder.”

“Well, that’s tragic,” he said sarcastically, willing his mind not to think of Scully on that stage, showing him, and him alone, what she learned in a very intense pole dancing class.

“Well, just so you know, it was a good show,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Scully, come on,” he pleaded with her as a man who could only be Big Paul walked over to them.

After speaking with him, they were escorted back to Rose’s dressing room. Scully knocked on the door and they were told to enter. Glancing at Mulder with another smirk, Scully opened the door and went inside.

The entire time they were speaking to her, she was wearing her underwear, with only a short robe covering her body. Mulder was uncomfortable, not wanting to look any place that would be considered inappropriate. He let Scully do all the questioning, looking around the room instead, the smell of it as heavy with perfume as the rest of the club.

God, he wanted to leave.

“Okay, thank you Miss Meadows, we appreciate your help. Agent Mulder, do you have any other questions you’d like to ask?” Scully asked sweetly a few minutes later, and he stared at her, shaking his head. She nodded and handed Rose her business card. “If you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Thank you again.”

Mulder nodded to Rose and opened the door to her dressing room, waiting for Scully to walk out ahead of him. He sighed with relief as he walked down the hallway, until two more women walked toward them. He stepped closer to Scully, and the wall, to avoid brushing against them as they walked by. They giggled as they did and he stared straight ahead, sighing with relief again.

Walking through the club, he kept his sights on the door, so close to freedom. He left Scully behind as he heard another song starting up and was suddenly blasted by confetti. Brushing it from his face and off his clothes, he pushed the door open, his eyes blinded by the late afternoon sunlight.

Taking a second to let his eyes adjust, he took his jacket off and shook it out, confetti flying everywhere. He brushed at his hair and more confetti fell to the ground. He shook his head as Scully walked over to him, brushing confetti from her own clothing.

“Well,” she laughed, reaching out and brushing her hands across his chest. “That was … something.” He sighed and shook his head, still brushing his hand through it.

“Jesus Christ, it was more than something, Scully. Ugh,” he stared at her and she smiled, her hands pausing at his chest and smoothing down his tie. She cleared her throat and stepped back, moving her hands.

“Wait,” he said, reaching for her arm. “You’ve got some of that goddamn confetti in your hair.” He combed his fingers through her hair and she kept her eyes on him as he did. He held the ends of her hair in between his fingers before letting it go and smiling at her. “I think I got it all.” She nodded and stepped back again.

“So, ready to get out of here?” she asked and he nodded enthusiastically. She laughed and walked over to the car. He threw his jacket in the backseat as he got in, loosening his tie as he did.

They headed back to the office, dropped off information they heard from Rose, and then headed to their cars in the parking garage. She kept her head down, but he could see the smile on her face, and he knew she was thinking of something.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as they arrived at her car and he nodded, stepping back with a smile.

As he started to walk away, he heard the music from the club begin to play again. He turned around and looked at Scully. She had the music playing from her phone in her pocket, and he watched her start to move with a smile on her face.

She shook her shoulders a little, then her hips a bit more, and his eyes roamed over her body. She grinned at him and moved a bit more before she opened her car door, got in and turned the music up as her phone connected to the Bluetooth. She watched him as she backed up and drove off, the music echoing in the parking garage.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, more aroused by her fully clothed and simple dance, than anything he saw earlier. “Jesus Christ.” He shook his head and got in the car, his mind racing.

You spin my head right round, right round, came the words to that song, unbidden into his head. God, did she ever.

He backed up and put the car in drive as his phone beeped with a message. Looking down, he saw it was from Scully. It was a good thing he read it before he left, when was not driving yet, or he was certain he would have hit something and died in a fiery crash.

I haven’t forgotten what happened to that pair of underwear …

#fanfic #xfiles #post season 10 #pre season 11 #drabble prompts #stripclubs #awkward Mulder #happy Scully

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footwearsfact · 2 years ago

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ptpgunmedia · 2 years ago

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Different Philosophies of Concealed Carry

Every gun owner seems to have their own opinion on what caliber is best for concealed carry. The same goes for the best gun, holster, type of carry, the ideal number of rounds, the number of spare mags to carry, and so on and so on. The best gun is always the one that you carry every day. In other words, whatever works for you, keep doing it. But there are pros and cons for each caliber and carry style. For someone who is new to shooting, it’s good to have the discussion, even if there can never be consensus on what the best truly is. First, let’s talk about the handguns themselves.

Different Concealed Carry Handgun Sizes

It can sometimes be hard to discern the size of a handgun simply by the name the manufacturer gives it. Different gun makers have different ideas of what the term “compact” means, for example. In fact, the term compact can even mean different things from the same company. The Ruger LCP is a “light compact pistol”, and one of the smallest semi-automatic handguns made for concealed carry. Conversely, the Ruger SR9c (c for compact) is a 17+1 double-stacked handgun with a shortened barrel, but otherwise nearly identical to the full-sized SR9.

For this discussion, we will break down handgun sizes into four categories. Micro, Small, Medium, and Large. Here are some examples of guns in each of the four size categories:

Micro: Phoenix Arms Raven, Derringer, NAA Mini-revolver

Small: S&W Bodyguard, S&W J Frame Revolver, Ruger LCP

Medium: SIG Sauer P365, Glock 23, S&W M&P Shield

Large: SIG Sauer P229, Beretta 92F, Glock 17, Colt 1911

Micro

Some gun enthusiasts consider these micro guns to be merely a novelty. It’s true that they are generally not a gun owner’s first choice for self-defense, but micro-sized guns can be legitimate backup guns and are certainly capable of injuring or killing an attacker. And we should all agree that any gun is better than no gun.

Micros are usually small calibers such as .22 LR, .25, and .32. The Derringer is the exception. It holds two rounds in two over/under barrels and can be found in larger calibers such as .45 ACP. The North American Arms Mini-Revolver is, you guessed it, a mini-revolver. It’s a single-action, five-shot revolver chambered in .22 Short, .22 LR, or .22 Magnum. The mini-revolver is small enough to fit into just about any pocket and works well as a backup gun.

Small

The handguns in the Small category are highly concealable, lightweight, and can be carried in several different ways. You can carry them in a traditional waistband holster, a pocket holster, a belly band holster, or even in an ankle holster. These guns are generally smaller calibers like .380 Auto or .38 Special. They usually have a small capacity because of their small size, generally between 6-8 rounds. Because they are so small, they are popular with new shooters, and especially women. In fact, Smith & Wesson even has an ultralight J frame revolver called the Ladysmith. However, many experienced gun enthusiasts tend to stay away from this category. There is an equation concealed carriers like to follow. It goes like this:

Larger Caliber = Fewer Rounds

Smaller Caliber = More Rounds

This means that they are willing to carry a smaller caliber if it has a larger capacity or carry a smaller capacity if it’s a larger caliber. But guns in the Small category have small calibers and small capacities, and that’s something that many gun owners steer away from.

Where guns in the Small category really excel is concealability. They are extremely easy to carry in multiple ways and are light enough to be carried comfortably all day. It’s often said that the best gun is the one that gets carried every day. All of your research into calibers, holsters, and capacities is worthless if you leave your gun at home because it’s uncomfortable to carry.

Medium

Guns in the Medium category are extremely popular with concealed carriers. Many of the best-selling handguns fall into this category. Guns in the Medium category offer a wide variety of calibers and capacities. The most common PTPGUN Concealed Carry calibers are 9mm, and .40 S&W. Traditionally, concealed carry guns that were 9mm and .40 S&W came in smaller capacities because they were single-stack magazines in order to keep the overall width thinner to conceal better. But recently gun manufacturers have begun producing medium-sized concealable handguns with larger calibers and larger capacities. The SIG Sauer P365 is a great example. It’s a 1.1” thick 9mm compact handgun that holds 12+1 rounds. The Glock 23 Gen 4 and 5 are another compact handgun with a double-stacked magazine. The G23 holds 13+1 rounds of .40 S&W and is just 1.3” thick.

Large

We all love big guns, right? Large calibers and large capacities. These guns are fun to shoot but are much harder to conceal. They can also be cumbersome to carry. Full-sized pistols give you peace of mind knowing that you have the capacity to deal with just about any threat you could face. A Glock 17, for example, comes with a standard capacity of 17+1 chambered in 9mm. The 1911 comes in the largest caliber commonly carried, .45 ACP.

For those carriers who choose to carry full-sized guns, concealment is often an issue. Many experienced concealed carriers change their everyday carry (EDC) with the seasons. In the autumn and winter when they wear heavier clothes and jackets, they can more comfortably conceal a large handgun. In the spring and summer when shorts and tee shirts are popular, they might switch to a smaller, more concealable gun.

One way to get around the concealability issue is: don’t conceal. Guns in the Large category are popular with open carry enthusiasts. The debate between open carry and concealed carry is a fierce one, but one thing is for certain. It’s always better to carry a gun than to not carry one. Open carrying a full-sized 1911 will certainly make a statement. In fact, 1911s are the most popular open carry guns.

Different Carry Methods

Now that we’ve talked about the different sizes of guns and also touched on the difference between concealed carry and open carry, let's get more into the ways to carry a gun for self-defense. There is nearly an infinite number of holsters available to carry your gun in. I prefer to carry in a custom-made holster, as opposed to a “one size fits all” holster. Gun retention is important to me, and a custom-made holster just feels like it fits the gun better and holds it more securely. Holsters can come in a variety of materials, but the two most popular are leather and Kydex. I prefer leather because I like the look and feel of it, but Kydex holsters are extremely popular with gun enthusiasts right now. Kydex is a type of hard plastic that is formed to your specific gun’s dimensions and holds it securely in place while providing excellent protection to the gun.

Carrying in a waist holster is probably the most traditional way to carry concealed. Waistband carry is best for Medium and Large guns, although they make waistband holsters for Small guns as well. Because guns in the Small category conceal so well, there are a number of other types of holsters you can use with them. These include a belly band, pocket, and ankle holsters.

Inside-The-Waistband Holster

Inside-The-Waistband (IWB) holsters are extremely popular for concealed carry. They do a great job of concealing Medium-sized guns and reducing printing (the outline of a gun seen through clothing). IWB holsters are worn inside the pants, with only the belt clips exposed. This makes for a well-concealed gun, although IWB can sometimes be uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time, especially while seated. If you carry frequently, you will usually get used to the feeling of IWB quickly.

Outside-The-Waistband Holster

Outside-The-Waistband (OWB) holsters are much more comfortable to wear, although they don’t conceal nearly as well. OWB holsters are worn, you guessed it, outside of the pants. They attach to the belt on the outside of your pants, which means they are usually more comfortable to wear and especially to sit down with. Medium and even Large category guns are comfortable to wear in OWB holsters. OWB holsters are great for open carry, but a little more difficult to conceal. An untucked shirt will usually cover the holster and gun, but if you bend forward there will be significant printing. Some people don’t mind that, others avoid it like the plague. If you want to conceal your OWB and gun, the best way is with a jacket or unbuttoned shirt.

Some gun owners, especially those who like to open carry, like to customize their OWB holster with images, knowing that they will get lots of looks. Flags, the constitution, “We The People”, “Don’t Tread On Me”, and “Come And Take It” are all popular themes for OWB holsters.

Belly Band Holsters

While waistband holsters are by far the most popular style, belly band holsters could be the most convenient. Belly band holsters are pieces of elastic with velcro ends that you can wrap around your body and wear under your shirt. They have pockets built-in that can hold guns, extra magazines, even wallets, keys, and phones. I use my belly band holster when I’m wearing athletic clothes that don’t require a belt. Contrary to the name, a belly band holster doesn’t have to be worn only around your belly. It can be worn around your hips, under the waistband of your pants. This places your gun in roughly the same spot as a belt holster (5 o’clock carry), but with significantly better concealment. If you choose to wear the belly band around your belly, it can be moved up or down on your trunk to suit your specific needs. It can be worn low around your stomach or high around your chest. The belly band holster is extremely versatile.

One problem with the belly band holster is that it’s not a custom-made fit for your gun. The “pocket” in the elastic that holds your gun is one-size-fits-all. While it holds small guns fairly well, if you try to use a belly band with a medium or large-sized gun, it may slip and fall out. Also, the rigid velcro that attaches the band to itself around you is uncomfortable when sitting, depending on how low you wear the band.

Pocket Holsters

Pocket holsters are great for small and micro-sized guns. They are great for backup guns, or for use as a primary concealed carry gun if you’re wearing shorts or athletic clothes. Pocket holsters can be worn in the front or back pockets of jeans or shorts, and conceal small-sized guns very well. I carry a Ruger LCP in a pocket holster sometimes. When I do, it’s usually in the back pocket on my dominant hand side. I also sometimes carry my NAA Mini-Revolver in a pocket holster, this one is usually in the front pocket. Pocket holsters are convenient because you can always have a gun with you, in just about any type of clothing.

Ankle/Shoulder Holsters

Ankle and shoulder holsters are less common than other types of holsters but are still a legitimate way to carry a gun. Ankle holsters are for small-sized guns, while shoulder holsters are usually for large, full-sized guns. Both of these carry options are frequently used by police, both on duty and off duty. Uniformed officers often carry a backup gun in an ankle holster, while plainclothes officers and detectives sometimes carry their firearms in shoulder holsters. If you’re wearing a shoulder holster, it’s best to wear a sports jacket over it. That’s about the only way to conceal a shoulder rig.

Conclusion

We’ve talked about many different sizes of guns and the different ways to carry them. As I said at the beginning, there isn’t one best gun or best holster. The best one for you is the one you’re most comfortable with and the one you carry every day. Don’t let your last thought be “Damn, I wish I brought my gun!”

Original Source:

https://www.ptpgun.com/post/different-philosophies-of-concealed-carry

#Concealed Carry Training #Concealed Carry #Wear Carry #Concealed Carry MD #Concealed Carry Permit MD

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