#but of course they didn't capture -_-

[imogenkol]

KINCADE PACK 🐺 (original works) — “The name goes back centuries, and all Miranda cares about is making sure it lasts for many more”

[template by @tommyarashikage]

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @simonxriley @voidika @kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @leviiackrman @strangefable @jacobseed

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 3 (bonus!)

Alex, shifting back in his seat: "I lost. Unfortunately..."

Logan: "You lost. So I get the privilege..."

okay, so i know fuck-all about cinematography. that's a lie, i know probably 1% more than fuck-all about cinematography, but what i do know is how to very smoothly direct the viewer's eye. a basic wide shot– parallel lines, flat background– means that the most obvious thing that's going to draw attention is motion. like if someone waved their hand in front of that window. so you let the viewer's eye come naturally to whatever's moving, and then you change angles and swoop along with the shot to follow that motion– whether it's a ball flying across the room or a cup falling over or someone turning to their right. that makes the viewer suddenly feel more than drawn in, they feel like they're there. because they're moving too. readjusting the focal point (main subject blurry to focused) is almost like adding a little bit of suspense, which draws the viewer in even more because now they're deliberately refocusing and locking in on something. this is a pretty good technique if you're filming, like, a movie. something with a script. something that's supposed to be a story.

it is completely unnecessary for little media snippets like this. if anything it's actually counterproductive, because the main focus is supposed to be the game/event as a whole (including the table, the photos, the wheel icon).

so the camera angle going from: alex's sheepish expression, talking to the camera and logan just beginning to turn his head to : first focusing on alex as he smiles and admits defeat and looks down with his cap over his eyes and then sharpening to logan– right as he shifts his shoulder in alex's direction and tilts his head at him and half-smiles and is literally taunting him for losing–

i'm just saying there was no reason to frame it like that and yet here we are

[stellerssong]

Know Them. (the critically endangered Tiburon Mariposa Lily/Tiburon buckwheat/Marin dwarf flax)

[chromotps]

Do you have any favorite acelu headcanons/tropes/dynamics?? All your works of them are so gorgeous and amazing and wonderful that it’s got me curious on what other thoughts you might have for them. （●´∀｀）ノ♡

AHHH thank you!! From you, it means a lot--I love so many of the details and backstories woven into your works for them!! TwT

I barely know where to begin with this bc like. Everything about acelu is my favorite. But I've also sort of been in a brainrot for them for so long now that my brain is entirely mush when I even think of them. Where do I start???

I guess, I love all the Ace-Lives-related headcanons. Anything about him finding more of a sense of self after Marineford, now that he's reckoned with the fact that he really is unconditionally loved... I personally adore any storyline where Ace kind of mellows out, like, his life isn't about proving he deserves to exist anymore, so he isn't as unforgiving with himself. I actually wanna link this comment thread between me & @to-a-merrier-world bc the headcanon of Ace getting a Stawhat tattoo makes me go wild. It just makes so much sense—his Whitebeard tattoo was on his back as a sign of worth and labor and duty, but the Stawhat tattoo over his heart would place more emphasis on his joys and dreams and jusT gosh. I need to lie down. This idea also ties into your to be deserving fic and Ace allowing himself more like, purely whimsical adornment?? Especially if it's gifts from Luffy??? I can't quite word it now, but the way it could symbolize him just loving the parts of himself that aren't just for fighting makes me. weak. I think it's why I like drawing post-timeskip Ace ideas so much (I already have another sketch I'm planning to post 😂)

hhhh okay that was a lot of Ace Talk. On Luffy's side... tbh Luffy is always harder for me to pin down. But I always love the idea that he needed Ace as a kid just as much as Ace needed him. Like this hc (from another comment 😂)—"Ace needs someone to prove unconditionally that he's lovable, and Luffy needs someone to prove that his love is important, and not easy to abandon." tbh acelu reminds me of my old D&D character, where basically, she was always pretty cheerful and resilient, but felt isolated—like she was always too alien to really relate to others. But then, this other character loved her as she is, and I think Ace did something similar for Luffy in the end? Like, in a world where Luffy never got Ace, I wonder if he'd still be as emotionally secure and kind. Probably! But... ahhh. This hc is more indulgent, but I really love the idea that Ace helps Luffy remember who he is beneath all the power and bravery. Where most of the One Piece world loves Luffy for being a liberator and a fearless captain, Ace loved him before all that—when he was just a kid who loved to laugh and share a meal and marvel at the world.

Oh my goddd I'm rambling. uuuuhhhh there's so much more, I love both when people write Ace as cool and suave, but also when he's a giant lovesick dork... The enemies/annoyance-to childhood friends-to lovers trope works in every world, I'd love to see it in AUs as like a bodyguard + celebrity/royalty plot, or arranged marriage—or pretty much, any story where Luffy wins Ace over with his terrifyingly stubborn love. I also love the fact that their dynamic is so playful!!! If an acelu fic/art doesn't imply that they can—and love—laughing together, then it's out of character to me. 😂

I don't know... they just have it all.... the depth and "I would die for you" level of devotion. But also the ridiculous "we're two feral gremlins who dare each other to eat doritos soaked in mountain dew" shenanigans. It's that mix of both.

[buckets-of-dirt]

The longer I work in CRM the more convinced I become that my undergrad degree did not adequately* prepare me for this career. The problem is that at the same time I also become more convinced that almost nothing** could adequately prepare someone for a career in CRM.

*My undergrad did give me a lot of very important background information that has been so incredibly necessary to work in this career and this is not a knock on academic archaeology AT ALL. I simply wish there'd been a little more discussion of what to expect once I left school and entered the work force.

**Except perhaps a similar job in another field science, which is of course, similarly niche and also probably requires a degree.

[thatsparrow]

they did norrington so right with the quiet, emotional but still restrained, "do not make the mistake of believing you are the only man here who cares for elizabeth"

[moe-broey]

OKAY FINAL THOUGHT FOR REAL BC I FEEL LIKE. IT'S A WORTHY ADDITION. I feel like I actually wouldn't be drawn to Lif in the first place were he not a distorted mirror of Alfonse. Like. I think about this SO much actually and I'd love to express it in some comics too, but, I literally think if Lif Wasn't Alfonse I would just think. "Oh that design FUCKS!" And I do think I'd like him, generally, as a character separate from Alfonse. If he was (for example) literally the ancestor Lif he presented himself to be. I'd think he's cool and I'd probably enjoy him. Even if he kept the asshole tendencies. Like. Understandable, you're undead. It's fine.

But I Don't think I'd be like. ANYWHERE as insane about him if he wasn't Alfonse. If there were no traces of Alfonse in him, and if there were no traces of LIF in Alfonse. LIKE. THAT'S WHAT GETS ME. Lif ISN'T just a remnant of who he used to be, of someone he wishes SO badly to bury, of someone who's still so painfully there, in every action he takes. Alfonse isn't just One Mistake from becoming Lif, either, though that's what he says (but is that what he believes?). Alfonse IS Lif. Just as much as Lif is still Alfonse. FUCKED UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[softquietsteadylove]

How about this for Thena bodyguard AU. Fan gets on stage and tries to get to Thena ( to hug her or something) and Gil jumps into action.

The tour was going pretty well, so far. It hadn't been Thena's idea, but it was going well all the same.

Gil knew it was taking a lot out of her. Between being on the road all the time, and the hours they were making, and the constantly being live, she was exhausted. But he always made a point of telling her it went well, of assuring her that she was doing great.

And he took extra care with her offstage.

Obviously he wasn't allowed on stage with her, as much as she would probably like it if he were. But he lingered just offstage in the wings, as usual. There were other security guards at the edges of the stage and in the crowds of course.

But Thena always wanted Gil as close as possible, and something about that really warmed his heart.

Gil was always watching, never once distracted by what was going on around her. He would watch from where he could, move across the massive stage and change angles when necessary. Anything to keep her in his sights.

The show was about three hours in length. It was a full repertoire of Thena's stuff, plus a few extras added for the tour. She would stumble backstage after the whole thing, exhausted and ready to curl up in a ball.

Gil would keep her close as she raced to the solitude of her provided dressing room and then back to the tour bus to rest. One night - after entertaining multiple encores - she had been bold enough to ask him to carry her. Which, of course, he had.

Another song finished, and they were nearing the finale. He could see her steps drifting more and a sheen of sweat making her platinum blonde hair stick to her skin. She looked magnificent.

"Athena, I love you!"

It happened quickly. The guards on the floor were apparently otherwise occupied. That must have been it, Gil thought, because otherwise he was going to have a word with them about how to do their fucking jobs.

Thena rushed back from the edge of the stage, where a fan was clambering up like a zombie in a horror movie. People were already screaming at the upset, and the floor security was trying to mount the stage in pursuit.

But Gil was closer. Gil was faster. Without question, protecting Thena mattered more to Gil.

Thena gasped as Gil appeared from the side of the stage, throwing himself at the intruding presence, both of them rolling away from her. "Gil!"

The kid stopped rolling after the first few. But in reflex, he had kicked Gil off of him, sending her bodyguard into the pit in front of the stage. Fans were screaming, people were in a panic, stage managers were scrambling to recover from the upset.

"Gil!" Thena screamed, dropping her handheld mic and running to where he'd fallen.

"Thena, I'm fine," he called out, already picking himself up. The last thing they needed was her trying to climb down in here with him. "It's just a fall."

"Oh my god," Thena shook her head, waving her hands for the stadium security to come and assist him. "We're going to get you out, Gil."

It was a hell of a fall, and he'd been through it as a security guard before. He picked himself up, although his shoulder was for sure fucked in some way or another. He sighed, wondering if it was enough for him to have to call someone in as a replacement.

Thena wouldn't like it, but his priority was her protection, even if he was no longer the best man for the job.

"Easy," two security guards on either side of him muttered as they pulled him up and walked him towards the stairs. The lights shut off and the house lights came on, signalling the end of the night for everyone involved.

"Where the hell were you?"

"Gil!" Thena rushed forward, having already abandoned her fancy heels and just in her bare feet. He was going to have to lecture her about how she could cut her feet that way.

"Hey," he greeted softly, putting a hand on her back as she threw her arms around him.

"Whoa there, little lady," the other security guards attempted to reach for her.

Gil shrugged them both off and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. They were the fuckers whose fault this was--no way in hell they were touching her. "Let's go."

"Gil, are you okay?" Thena frowned, letting him lean on her as heavily as he needed on their way backstage.

"Pulled something, I think, but I don't think it's an emergency," he sighed as she helped him hobble back. "I'll get off my feet for the rest of the night and I'm sure I'll be better in no time."

"Gil, you should let the onsite medics look at you," Thena frowned.

"We have our own medical team, they can look at me back on the bus," he grunted as she helped him up the small side steps. "Let's get you somewhere safe, first."

"You can worry about yourself a little bit, you know," she gave him a look he usually saw her reserve for Kingo when he was on her nerves, or Ikaris when she had to be around him to hang out with Sersi.

"I'm fine, I-ah!" Gil grunted as she gripped his shoulder with a defiant glare. "Okay, I'll get it looked at. I just...I need to know you're safe first, Thena."

Thena pulled him into the wings, where the rest of their team were already waiting at the ready. She let some of his other security guards take his weight off her shoulders, calls already being made and assistants ready to run out to 24/7 pharmacies in the area.

Gil sighed as he got loaded into a golf cart, which he had to admit, was nicer than walking at the moment. A stage manager climbed into the front, but - to his pleasant surprise - Thena climbed in next to him.

"I've made you promise not to leave my side before," she murmured as she pulled him to lean against her at a comfortable angle, one of her arms around him and the other helping to keep his sore shoulder in a relaxed position. "Now, it's my turn."

[gryffin-who-cannot-fly]

so I agree with the end result of most of what you're saying, which is that trans men shouldn't be treated as a punching bag and that some queer/feminist spaces need to get a handle on their misandry towards trans men.

but here's the thing. you said

cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

and I just don't follow that logic. criticism is one thing, but mean jokes?

I want to quickly say up top that I'm not trying to have a go at you; I see this sentiment from time to time in the (online, usually) spaces I'm in and it's something I want to push back on.

first of all, and this shouldn't matter but it will to some people: you don't know the full identity of every person you meet. you don't know who is stealth trans, or autistic, or invisibly disabled, or has a history of being bullied. in an online environment you don't even know who's a person of colour or visibly disabled.

so if you throw a blanket 'I can bully cis men who are generally lauded by society' net, you will catch men who are not lauded by society, and add to their marginalisation and likely their poor mental health. I know bully isn't a word you used, but repeatedly making jokes intended to bring someone down is going to wind up being bullying.

now I say I don't think that should matter because: what is the great harm to us, in queer/feminist spaces, if we treat everyone with respect and kindness? the usual caveats of course, if someone is being antagonistic or otherwise making a space unsafe then that should be managed as appropriate, but even then no part of that should involve stopping your respect. it certainly shouldn't involve treating them a bit 'nasty'.

part of this is recognising the difference between systemic issues and individual issues. yes, 'men', broadly speaking, are responsible for complex systems of oppression that lead to harm, abuse, marginalisation, gatekept opportunities, etc. but random Guy No 625 that shows up with his girlfriend to the bi visibility event is not personally responsible for that. maybe he's contributed to it or maybe he's spent his whole life campaigning for idk abortion rights and you have no idea. it doesn't matter. he's certainly benefited from the patriarchy; it still doesn't matter. what would bullying this man achieve? nothing.

you mention that privileged cis men need to understand that privilege isn't going to carry over to queer/feminist spaces and I do agree with that. they should be treated with the same amount of respect and consideration as everyone else, and if they're used to the world revolving around them that is going to feel like less, and their feelings shouldn't necessarily be coddled about that. but again, that's not being mean to someone, that's just treating them like a human being.

idk. we should try and live in the world we want to create. that isn't always possible, but you can definitely treat every person as an individual deserving of respect. if they turn out to be a mysoginist, just respectfully kick them out of the space and move on.

I notice sometimes in queer and feminist spaces the idea of "this group is generally given more leniency and privileges in wider society; it's okay for us to be critical or even a little nasty to them because anywhere else they'd be praised". and that's understandable, i think. when you have real issues with men and how men act, it's ok to express that and to mock mens behavior. cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

but since queer and feminist spaces are generally more accepting of trans people and the wider society is not, this is also projected on to trans men. "trans men are men" was an affirming statement to our validity, but that was interpreted as "since trans men are men, and men are celebrated by society, I get to be a little nasty to them because the rest of society worships men. they can take it."

but the rest of society doesn't have that same level of trans acceptance. they don't see trans men as men, they see trans men as mentally ill, broken, mutilated women. so it's absolutely aggravating when we turn to queer and feminist spaces for solidarity, we face the same reactive nastiness cis men get and are told "come on, trans men are men. you are celebrated in society. you can take it." and when we look at the rest of society there's no celebration. there's only more nastiness and cruelty. so how can we "take it" when we have no community that accepts us and treats us without mockery? we don't have the shelter of acceptance that cis men have in the status quo, and sometimes we can't find a small umbrella of acceptance in queer communities either.

to be honest, I think a lot of people view trans men as a safe punching bag to vent their frustrations with men. you can mistreat a trans man and he's probably not going to fight you back since he's already so beat down. you can feel like you put a man in his place, you can feel like you're resisting the patriarchy. but all you did was act cruel to a marginalized person. and you know if you treated a cis man like that you might be putting yourself in danger, cos he might not take it lying down and he might not care as much about your wellbeing!

trans men are men, but trans men are not cis men. cis men are lauded and celebrated in society as long as they conform to the gender roles that were placed on them at birth. and this privilege is extremely conditional and not equally spread between men of different sexualities, races, ethnicities, ability, age, etc; trans men and intersex men are thrown to the side completely. I understand needing to vent about men. trans men do it too. but a persistent attitude of resentment and cruelty towards all men, including trans men, is not activism. all you do is push marginalized men out of the only communities they belong

[jaewritesfic]

I see (and love) plenty of fics where Batman reveals his identity to the Justice League by Batman taking off the cowl in various situations

But why isn't there more of Bruce Wayne having to go 'fuck it' and Go Batman In Civvies?

Like Brucie Wayne is your civilian hostage doing his best big, dumb and useless impression.

Members of the Justice League come in but keep getting incapacitated/captured.

Finally a hero is about to die and Bruce Wayne just sighs heavily because apparently he has to fucking do this himself.

Several members of the Justice League just like-

"Holy shit, Bruce Wayne just bit a guy he's gonna get himself killed. Oh shit, actually he just kicked that guy's kneecap in- oh what the fuck, did he just dislocate his thumb to get out of his zipties?"

"Am I insane or are you guys also seeing Bruce Wayne wipe the floor with armed criminals? Where the fuck did he- did he just pull that batarang out of his sock???"

He rounds on them with Hal's Lantern Ring that he just pulled out of an unconscious guys pocket and brandishes it like an angry mom who just found contraband in their kids room.

Bruce, so pissed he reverts to lingo he's heard his children use: I cannot BELIEVE you barged in here and let these amateurs just...just...YOINK your ring!!

GL, sputtering: Wh- I didn't- they didn't yoink it-

Bruce: they yoinked it, Hal! Straight up yoinked it!!!

GL: How do you know my name?!

Bruce: Of course I know your name!! IM BATMAN

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

[tapakah0]

shushhh

Ward: Actually, we would have been dead if he was jailed instead of me

Part 4 :l

Holly: Wow, you have a friend outside of prison??

Ward: Don't get excited, the only thing he's good at is making us even more jailed

Previous

Masterpost

[goldengirlgalaxy]

The Bedazzler

After a very hazy night that... may or may not have been caused by something he found in the Ghost Zone, Danny ends up discovering in his haze he bought an absolutely outrageous amount of various craft supplies, especially shiny things like those little plastic rimstones.

Good news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, so he didn't drain all of his funds. Bad news, everything was bought from a going out of business sale, which means he can't return them. And, frankly, he doesn't want to just throw away a bunch of stuff he paid for. But he still doesn't know what to do with it all.

At least until Clockwork decides to give Danny a small boon that lets him stop time. Then he gets some ideas.

It first starts off with Superman. He's doing his regular hero thing, when he suddenly feels his cape pulled to one side. He brushes it off as the wind, until people start pointing at his back. Clark nearly panics when he finds a bunch of green crystals on his cape, only to calm when he realizes they're plastic and attached with glue. That of course begs the question, who was able to glue gemstones to his back without him noticing?

Later that same day he's both amused and even more confused when Luthor appears again, only for a bunch of gem stickers to appear on top of his bald head, clearly arranged to spell out 'I Heart Superman' in icons.

Captain Marvel suddenly feels something appear on his head, only to discover it's some kind of cardboard crown. He's confused, but ultimately decides to wear it the rest of the day, thinking it might be from some meta fan of his.

Martian Manhunter finds a necklace appearing on him. When he pulls it off, he finds it's one of those Shrinky Dink plastics, designed to look like a medal that says '#1 Hero' on it, also with some extra plastic gems for extra bling. He wears it proudly for the rest of the day.

The Gotham Bats all get hit at the same time. Fake flowers, various colors of ribbons, Red Robin had a helium balloon attached to him for an hour, and of course plenty of shiny fake gems.

At first, everyone thought the funniest part of the mysterious crafts was Red Hood appearing with several rimstones attached to his hood where he mouth would be, several gold ones arranged in such a way that it looked like he was flashing a bunch of yellow teeth.

Then the Joker showed up. And was promptly doused in several pounds of glitter. Even better, it got into his eyes, effectively blinding him and giving the Bats a chance to capture him (after they were done laughing).

Of course, as more Leaguers get trolled, the more the stories start to paint a picture of someone running around pranking them. And many of them want to know just who this Bedazzler is.

Meanwhile, Danny is laughing his ass off and is planning on giving his friends a chance to have their own fun.

[pearlymel]

Need to know !

sum. That dick is a ten out of ten! Calm down girl, they're yours.

pairings. Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne.

warnings. NSFW, MDNI, threésome, oral sēx (m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sēx, slight nipple play, no plot. 1.4k words.

notes. Sylus x zayne next??? Jk.... Unless.....

How did you even find yourself in this situation?

But were you complaining? No.

“You both need to calm down,” you glance at both men, hands firmly on their arms as you find yourself almost particularly sandwiched by them.

"Easy for you to say." Zayne spoke first, he would never admit it out loud, but god, he couldn't help but immediately relax under your touch. Sylus, on the other hand, was more cocky.

Instead of relaxing like Zayne did, he leaned down, tilting your face upwards to look at him. His smirk widening, "How could I possibly be calm when I'm about to get you all to myself? I feel like I already won.”

Zayne races you first before you could even reply to him, “we're supposed to be sharing.” Zayne pointed out with a stern look to Sylus, who was already crawling on top of you to hold you closer.

“We are sharing." Sylus' eyes darkened. His voice was so smug, it sounded downright mocking. But he wasn't looking at Zayne, he was looking at you. He leaned right next to your ear to whisper, "You don't mind us sharing, do you, sweetheart?”

You could literally feel the shiver running up your spine. Too weak to answer back, you only nod slowly.

Zayne could only watch as Sylus smirked and leaned down to capture your mouth in a deep kiss. Sylus' hand moved to your jaw, keeping your head tilted up before running his thumb to your lower lip to pry your lips open as his tongue slid into your mouth.

It's like he wanted Zayne to hear the quiet sound of your gasp, of you melting into the kiss, and of you letting out a whimper only he could hear.

Zayne held back a sigh as soon you slipped your hand under his shirt, reaching out for him, feeling your hand against his chest. He was desperate to touch you, however, his patience was thin. He would get his turn.

It was Sylus who broke the kiss first, "You're so easy to get riled up. I could watch you like this all night, but I know someone who's dying to taste you for himself, Sweetie.”

Zayne's hand wasted no time to your face to cup your jaw. Lifting your head up to him as he kissed you. He kept his tongue in check, as much as he enjoyed having you whine into his mouth. He was so damn jealous, it was almost unbearable.

"Well, well, well," Sylus drawls, "looks like our girl is enjoying the attention." He lifts your shirt before trailing a finger in between your already bra less breasts, and down to circle yournavel teasingly.

Zayne scoffs when he leaves your lips for a moment, "of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?" He leans back in to capture your mouth in another dance of a dizzying kiss.

You didn't even know what was going on. You were in an entirely different world.

Sylus chuckles, "Jealous, Zayne? Don't worry, there's plenty of her to go around." To prove his point, he dips his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently. And you arch your back while gasping against Zayne's mouth how kept a firm hand on the back of your head.

Zayne's hand soon joins the stimulation of rolling your other nipple, his hand giving your breast a firm squeeze and you whine softly with a whisper of his name.

"Heard that, pretty boy?" Sylus cooed in a low, mocking tone, his red eyes flickering up to Zayne.

Zayne would have rolled his eyes if he had the willpower to look away from you. But as he mouthed and nipped at the skin of your neck, he simply huffed in annoyance, "Shut up, you smug bastard.”

Sylus only grinned against your skin, giving your tits one last kiss before lowering his head down to tear your panties down using his teeth, “lift up, sweetie," he instructs, and you complied.

Sitting up, he presses your legs apart to take a better look at your weeping cunt, "Come closer, sweetheart. Come here.”

Zayne already had you on his lap, slightly grinding his hips up to your ass, while Sylus pressed himself right onto your pussy, making you completely sandwiched between both men.

Your arms are wrapped around Sylus’ neck while your head is rolled back to Zayne's shoulder as you pant and moan into the air everytime Sylus would bump his clothed dick against your clit.

“F-fuck me—” you whisper breathlessly, mostly to yourself, but it makes both men snap.

“you heard her.”

You gasp when your vision flips upside down, Sylus and Zayne effortlessly positioning you on your hands and knees with your ass presented perfectly in the air.

They're both… well… naked, and you feel like you're going to die any second if you take them both.

Your eyes squints, and your lips part involuntary when you feel Sylus’ fat tip push inside your welcoming cunt.

Meanwhile Zayne’s cock is literally right on your face, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head towards his cock. "Tell me if it hurts," he whispers softly to you, and you look at him through half-lidded glossy eyes.

Fuck, Zayne can't ruin such an angelic face.

But once you take him into your mouth, he immediately forgets everything.

You moan around him, the taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue. At the same time, you feels Sylus thrust into you from behind to fill you completely, making you feel like the air has been taken out of your lungs.

"C-careful,” Zayne hisses, and Sylus only groans, setting a steady rhythm as he starts pounding into you. Each thrust forcing you deeper onto Zayne's cock, and you struggle to breathe, to the point tears gather around your eyes.

Zayne tugs on your hair gently, guiding your movements. "That's it, you're doing well," his praise shoots right to your fluttering pussy, and his hips rock slightly to meet your now eager bobbing head. "So good, pretty.”

You whimper around him with every praise Zayne send to you, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. You can feel herself getting close, the dual stimulation of Zayne's cock in your mouth and Sylus' in your tight hole was pushing you closer to release.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, muffled moans, and the creaking of the bed. Everything sinful all at once.

Sylus leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he buries himself deeper. "Come on," he urges, his hand snaking around to rub your clit. "Come for us. Let us feel you. How good we make you feel.”

With those words, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you, you cry out around Zayne's cock, your pussy clenching and creaming around Sylus as you come undone.

Zayne lets out a half moan as your constricting throat triggers his own orgasm, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he spills his seed down your throat. “S-sorry, love. Just swallow it all for me, okay?" He holds your head in place as he rides out his orgasm, his eyes rolling back slightly.

Sylus doesn't slow his pace just yet, continuing to pound into your fluttering pussy. "Not yet, you don't get to rest," he growls, his fingers pinching your overstimulated clit harshly. "I'm not done with you yet."

You cry out again, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. You try to focus on pleasing both of them, licking and sucking at Zayne's softening cock which makes him hiss quietly, and Sylus' relentless thrusts make it difficult to concentrate.

Your eyes widen when you feel Sylus' cock twitch inside you, his hot cum spurting into you.

As both men pull out, you feel empty, their combined release dripping down your thighs, and some on the corner of your mouth.

Zayne’s ears redden as his eyes roam over your cum-covered body. "You look…” he trails off, and he brings a thumb to wipe your lips.

“Gorgeous.” Sylus continues with a hum, making you pout before covering your face with your arms.

“now, now, looks like her highness wants more attention.” Sylus dips back next to you, taking your body and pulling your back against his chest. Zayne huffs before he joins you both, laying infront of you and pressing your face gently against his chest.

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[bunnys-kisses]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3