#but the odds of them getting in there are slim to none

[hyperfixatingonsmth]

as a texas f1 fan, im petitioning for williams to have logan and alex try terry blacks bbq.

[phagodyke]

trying to figure out how tf I'm gonna get home from this gig next week..

[woso-dreamzzz]

Carnival

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: Mary takes you to the carnival

Lockdown was both the bane of Mary's existence and the best thing in the world.

The worst thing because it meant confusion and fear and no football for a while. The best thing because it brought her you.

She fostered at first before moving to adoption when she found that she couldn't be parted from you.

With the lockdowns tentatively over now, things had started opening up again.

Like the carnival.

"They're rigged," You tell her.

You're still little but you speak well for your age, well advanced when compared to any of your peers.

"Rigged?" Mary laughs," Where've you heard that word?"

"I read it," You say," In a book."

"Oh. I forgot I was taking a genius out."

You make a little noise of acknowledgement before turning back to the carnival game.

It's most definitely rigged.

All of them are.

This one is one of those basketball toss games where you know the ring is only just wide enough for the ball to get through. If the throw isn't perfect then it'll hit the rim and bounce away.

Mary is looking at it with concentration though and you snag her belt loops, tugging lightly.

You hadn't meant to stop in the first place but you'd caught sight of one of the prizes.

One shot in got you a keychain.

Two shots got you a little inflated ball.

Three in meant the prize was a small toy.

Four was a medium sized toy.

Five was a big toy.

The big toys are displayed at the very top of the game. A lot of them a bears or big puppies but a handful of them are birds. They're in lots of different colours.

Yellow seems to be the most prominent colour but then it's pink. The one that caught your eye is blue though.

You like the look of it a lot but you also know the odds of winning it are slim to none.

Five perfect shots in a row is very difficult especially when the backing board behind the hoop is angled at a way that means if the ball hits it, it won't go into the hoop in the slightest.

"Mary," You say, tugging," Let's go."

Mary doesn't move though. "You want the bird?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"No."

"You don't even want to try?"

You shake your head, scuffing your foot into the dirt. "It's not worth it, Mary."

"Would it make you happy though?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"But-"

"Come on, birdie," Mary says," We'll try a few rounds and if we get it, we get it but if not that's fine too."

It costs five pounds for five balls and Mary fails abysmally for her first round.

It stokes something in her though, especially when your eyes dart away from the toy with every missed shot.

You've had a rough go of it, Mary thinks as she pays for another few rounds. Before her, you'd had a failed adoption. The couple had wanted you but then the wife had gotten pregnant and they realised what they actually wanted was a biological child.

It had fallen through and you'd bounced for a few days before being fostered by Mary.

She'd worked hard with you on understanding that she wasn't going to abandon you. She'd worked hard to get you to accept her as a maternal role in your life.

But that illusive word still evaded her.

She didn't need it, not truly. She knew what you thought of her and you knew what she thought of you.

She'd do anything for your happiness, including draining her bank to win you this stupid blue bird.

Your eyes had lit up when you'd seen it but you seemed fairly realistic for such a little kid.

These games were rigged but Mary refuses to let that stop her.

You want this stupid bird.

She'll get you this stupid bird.

Her hands are sweaty as she grabs her last ball. The others, surprisingly, have all gone in after nearly fifteen rounds of this stupid carnival game and it slowly dawns on her that this is the last shot.

She wipes her hands on her shirt.

"Mary?" You say and she looks down at you," Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine, birdie. One last shot and we can get your bird."

You glance down bashfully, fingers still threaded around her belt loop. "It's okay if you can't make it. We can go on the teacups instead."

Mary frowns, dropping to her knee so she can cradle your cheek in one of her big hands. "You don't want the bird?"

"I do," You say," But...I don't want you to feel bad if you can't get it in."

"Trust me," Mary says," I just want to make you happy."

You look into her eyes, searching for any hint of untruthfulness in them but you find none. You nod. "You should move slightly to the left," You say," And spread your fingers out a little more."

"Thanks, birdie."

She does as you've said and shoots.

The ball goes in and Mary breathes out a sigh of relief, already leaning over the counter to talk to the poor minimum wage worker that's had to sit through all her attempts.

"Yeah," She says," The bird. The blue one. Up top. Yeah, that one."

He has to get a big stick with a hook on the end to get it off and Mary takes it from him triumphantly.

She presents it to you and you gently stroke your hand over the fur.

She's still holding it but you bypass your new favourite toy completely, moving to hug her as tightly as you can.

"Thank you, Mummy."

Mary tries not to let you finally saying the 'm' word affect her, forcing back the tears that want to fall as she hugs you back, raining kisses onto the top of your hair.

"It was my pleasure, birdie."

[meguwumibear]

Purged Without Exception

A quick trip to the store gets you into some trouble. Suo is there to bail you out.

thank you @/acidbeats for commissioning this piece for the @ficsforgaza collaboration.

cw: attempted sexual assault and minor injury

You’re not supposed to be out this late. You know this. You know better. The streets of Makochi are unsafe for a lone woman like you, for a woman without any sort of fighting prowess. They used to be, anyway, before the Bofurin boys took it upon themselves to bloody their knuckles to keep the place clean.

The initiative has been going on for quite a few years now, and crime has been on a steady decline ever since. The students have made it their mission to protect your humble little town from all sorts of illicit activity, violent or otherwise. Whether they’re responding to petty theft or physical assault, the Bofurin boys handle each and every job with a violent sort of grace. It’s been some time since a random street thug could stand a chance against the gang of delinquents.

Perhaps that’s why you felt so comfortable running to the store at this hour. The odds of any sort of crime of late are slim to none. Violent crimes in particular are less popular than ever. Who’d risk provoking the ire of any of the current Bofurin students, let alone the alumn? An idiot maybe, or someone suicidal.

You didn’t think to grab anything other than your phone and wallet for the outing. All you needed was to restock on toilet paper, and the market is only a few blocks from your shithole apartment. Four years ago, you would never have ventured out without some sort of self defense aid on you. The protection of the Bofurin boys has made everyone so careless.

That’s why you aren’t prepared to fight off the first pair of hands that wrap themselves around your wrist and yank you into a dank, dark alleyway. There are three men in total hiding out in the shadows, and soon there are hands wrapped around your forearm, your neck, your waist. The attack is uncoordinated; the men trip over themselves trying to grope at you. You do what little you can to fend them off.

Untrained. Defenseless. Your head throbs and it connects with warm brick. Skin splits at the contact, cleaved open by the abrasive clay. There’s a strong grip on the nape of your neck preventing you from moving. Cold, calloused hands hold your face flat against the wall.  

Despite your earlier lapse in judgment, you are not in fact stupid. You know what kind of attack this is. You understand its purpose and goals of the hands that bind you.

It’s hard to hear much over the roaring in your ears, but you’re just lucid enough to pick out an eerily calm voice.

“Excuse me,” the man asks almost cheerfully. “Have I interrupted something?”

The hands attempting to undress you stall.

“Fuck off, eyepatch. Four’s a crowd.”

The grip on you loosens a smidge, and you turn your head to survey the scene.

The guy with the eyepatch is standing with his hands held in mock surrender, a coy smile on his face. There’s something familiar about him. You’ve seen him around town before. He pals around with a few of the Bofurin graduates. Which means…

“Easy,” he says, “I just want to escort the lady home.”

“You deaf?” one of your attackers asks. “We said fuck off.”

The man moves so fast your brain hardly registers it. One moment he’s standing at the edge of the alley, the next he’s flipped the man pinning you to the wall over his shoulder. The dude lands with a harsh thud on his back. From the way he’s flopping around, you venture the impact punched the air from his lungs.

The fingers of the remaining two clench into fists, but they seem hesitant to assist their friend. They sway unsteadily back and forth on the balls of their feet, looking at you, their friend, and finally at your rescuer.

“Run along, now,” your savior smiles. The corners of his mouth are pulled tight, sharp like a knife. “I just had this shirt pressed and I’d hate to sully it.”

The two still on their feet exchange a final glance at one another and decide to cut their losses. They back out of the alley quickly, clearly afraid your rescuer may change his mind about dirtying his freshly pressed shirt. The third staggers after them, limping along, wheezing for breath.

Once he’s certain you’re alone, the man bends over to pick something off the ground: the toilet paper that started the whole ordeal. He approaches you slowly, like he’s nervous one wrong move will scare you off. When he’s close enough, he offers the roll to you.

“I hate guys like that,” the man offers conversationally. The smile he flashes you now is warm and inviting. “Some people just never grow up. A bunch of petulant kids. It’s hard for them to imagine themselves in your position. I enjoy helping them broaden their minds.”

The hand that reaches for the toilet paper is shaky. The palm is red with blood. His eyes don’t miss the tiny droplets that spill onto the plastic packaging.

“That looks like it hurts,” he says, features schooled into a calm grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He leads you back to the convenience store. The lady at the front recognizes him immediately—even calls him by his name—which isn’t unusual; the Bofurin boys are a bit like celebrities around these parts.

Suo exchanges pleasantries with the worker and attempts to purchase some first aid supplies, but the woman insists he takes what he needs, on the house. There are perks, it would seem, to purging the town of those who would cause it harm.

The bathroom of the shop is small and poorly lit. A lone, fluorescent light flickers above you as Suo gently dabs an antiseptic wipe along your palms. The disinfectant bites. The wounds sting despite Suo’s tenderness. You fight your instinct to flinch and fail.

“The cut isn’t deep,” Suo notes once he’s certain the lesions have been properly sterilized. He drops your palm to brush a tendril of loose hair out of your face. “I’m more worried about this.”

You wince as he touches a fresh antibacterial wipe to your forehead. Fresh tears pool in the corners of your eyes. You try to blink them away, but they insist on falling. They slide down the slope of your cheek bones and pool underneath your chin.

“I can walk you to the nearest clinic,” he offers. “Just as an extra precaution.”

You shake your head and immediately regret it. The motion aggravates the injury, and your vision blurs from the pain.

“Can’t afford it,” you tell him.

He frowns as he continues to see to the wound. His movements are slow, precise, like he’s used to treating these types of injuries. You watch his face as he tends to you. His features are knit in quiet contemplation.

“It looks like you hit your head pretty hard. I’m no doctor, but I’m worried they may have given you a concussion.”

You shrug as he pulls his hand away. “I’m tougher than I look. My friends always say I have a thick skull.”

He hands you an ice pack from the pile of first aid supplies he’s brought. “For the swelling,” he says. Then, once you’ve pressed the cold pack against the growing bump, “You should take better care of yourself. If not for you then for your friends. I’m sure they’d hate if something were to happen to you.”

You let out a long, slow breath. Suo isn’t wrong. Your friends would be devastated if you got yourself into some sort of trouble.

“Bofurin boys are good for more than just fighting,” you say, pondering his advice and admiring his first aid.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he smirks, lips full of promise. “You have no idea.”

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

So uh...I know the odds of this happening is slim to none, but I figure I'll shoot my shot: the Creator having a little one, who is sporting a small diamond marking on their forehead? (Xiao, it's Xiao as the dad.) And for fun: Venti somehow gets blamed for this! :D

Tsarita: The Yaksha has an Anemo Vision. Of course someone who uses the element of Barbatos would be so forward as to try something with the Creator!

Venti: I DID NOTHING, WHY AM I BEING BLAMED?!

A forever diamond

WC: ~600

Cw: Raiden is alloyist 😔

Imagine if this happened close to cloud retainer and she just side eyes Xiao like "this one is impressed the conqueror of demons has, what the younger generations call, rizz"

Xuezhui’s birthdays are a whole event for liyue, somewhat of an unofficial holiday, people are often given half day or the whole day to roam the streets, different vendors setting stalls with food and trinkets.

A room would get rented in the xinyue salon and the seven stars and the archons would accompany for lunch and a small dessert for the toddler.

As you finish eating and leave Xuezhui on the floor she starts running to a small group of children, zhongli trailing behind her so you could finish your conversation with keqing.

Regal as when he was an archon zhongli stands a few meters away from the little group of children playing tag. Sometimes he can't help but let himself drift in his thoughts, Xuezhui is so similar to Xiao when he rescued him, even when only a handful of people remember that day he can see it as clear as day. Could Xiao have spent his younger life as carefree as this little girl?

Suddenly he is snapped from his daydream by a scream and sobbing.

“What is it, little one?” zhongli leans forward where xuezhui was seated crying, some of her friends surrounding her. He saw her fall while chasing each other but it didn't seem hard enough for her to not keep playing.

“It hurrrttss” her hands clasped on her forehead, tear clouding her eyes.

“Let me see” softly he pries her hands away, expecting to see some flushed skin, maybe a bruise or some blood but it was neither of those, rather it was a small purple diamond “...interesting”

“What happened over here?” Quickly you walk towards them, worried about the soft sniffles and suddenly falling to the floor. She makes grabby hands so you perch her on your hip, smoothing her hair.

“Someone can't refuse her inheritance for too long” he taps between his brows, letting you know. Swiftly you move her bangs, showing a small diamond just under her hairline.

“I thought it was make up”

“it would make sense with his depressive persona but as you already know adepti have no need for vision and merely wear one to comply with human expectations,” he picks something up from the floor, a small golden plate before placing it on the silk in the back of her dress “on the contrary, half adeptus like Ganyu need a vision to canalize elemental energy yet can use adeptal features to hone their abilities”

“I can barely manage her as it's, don't tell me that was a vision”

His hand falls on your shoulder, a stiff smile trying not to laugh at you “I would invest in fire insurance”

Seemingly your defeated face was very visible, even from a few meters away, or you took a fair amount of time, as some archon and Ningguang were approaching you.

“Is anything wrong I could help with?” Ningguang speaks first, wandering what might have happened.

“Xuezhui fell, just a small nick on the forehead” zhongli snickers behind you.

“if she hurt herself I'm sure Dr Baizhu wouldn't mind checking her up quickly” she attempts to check her but you change her to the other side, attempting to hide her mark.

“She is fine, she just got scared and is a bit cuddly”

“oh, what a shame, I wanted to try her beloved almond tofu but if she is so stuck with you we will have to leave it for another occasion”

“Almond tofu! Let's go” she jumps out of your arms and jumps towards Raiden, who notices instantly the soft purple diamond “mmh, what is this?” she swipes her thumb over it but it doesn't smudge, the edges perfectly neat.

“Who does that remind me of?” Venti taps his chin.

“the vigilant yaksha?...” Ningguang mumbles under her breath. She did know he took the role of your bodyguard but never thought your relationship would be so more intimate

“So in the end it WAS your fault…”

“but he is from Liyue! It's Morax’s fault!”

“But he has an anemo vision”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“All anemo vision holders are libertine or lazy”

“Hey! That is alloyism!”

“who would have guessed this would work out nicely for me”

[worldlxvlys]

hello🙋🏻‍♀️ I'VE GOT A REALLY GOOD FIC IDEA! i've got a request for dwb!chris. okay, here it goes: reader doesn't answer his texts so he kinda gets worried but since reader is lowkey bipolar he gives "her" space and all but he hasn't seen her in a few days so he kind of gets worried and after a while he finds out she's being held hostage by guys chris have deals with and shit yk? you just go from here just don't kill reader nor chris please🥲 (not yet) ily🫂

taken

dwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: reader held hostage, mentions of blood, violence, knives, guns, mentions of gun shots, reader is tied up, cursing

a/n: for @mbbsgf ily <33

it will make more sense if you read prison for life first ;)

silence was the only thing i could hear.

my eyes were open, but i was only met with darkness.

there was a stinging sensation where my hairline met my forehead and a faint ringing in my ears.

i tried to move my hands, but something held them captive.

my fear started to grow as i tried to move my feet, only to find them immobilized as well.

i couldn’t move and i couldn’t see. i needed to rely on the senses that i could use.

taste. there was a copper-like taste in my mouth, blood.

feel. something rough was wrapped around my wrists, it dug into the skin, creating a burning sensation.

hear. i tried to focus on what could be heard beyond the silence. wait, silence ? no, not silence. there’s a slight humming noise, almost like an engine.

smell. gasoline. i’m in a moving car.

fuck. how am i gonna get out of here ?

what if i don’t get out of here ?

are they gonna kill me ?

stop, breathe. you need to calm down.

i focused on my breathing, doing my best to keep it at a normal rate.

i just need to stay calm and think.

CHRIS’S POV

at first, i figured she needed some space. it wasn’t unusual for her to need time to herself, and i’m always willing to give it.

but the second her location turned off, i panicked.

we always agreed to keep each other’s location turned on, no matter how angry we were with each other, to give the other peace of mind.

once her location was off, i immediately called around.

anyone and everyone who could have seen anything suspicious or heard anything at all was called.

the odds of absolutely nobody knowing anything were slim to none.

and sure enough, after a few calls, i found someone who had information.

“yeah, chris. not too long ago, jerry saw your girl with jones and his boys”

my face fell at his name.

“jones?” i asked in confirmation.

“yeah, why ? what’s wrong?”

“he took her. and it’s my fault”

“what ? he took her?”

“i’m getting her back. i can’t lose her”

“i’ll get the boys”

READER’S POV

the car came to a sudden stop as i heard muffled voices get closer.

there was a loud beeping noise before a rush of cold air hit me.

i was forcefully yanked out of, what i assume to be the trunk, both arms being gripped tightly.

i was thrown over someone’s shoulder, which roughly hit my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

i broke out into a coughing fit, trying to regain my breath, which is pretty difficult to do when you’re hanging upside down.

“shut the hell up” a gruff voice spoke.

the voice seemed familiar, but i couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

i assumed that it had something to do with one of the many drug deals i had went out with chris to.

i assumed that this entire situation had to do with chris and his dealing habits, but i really had no way of knowing for sure.

i couldn’t, however, think of any other reason why i could be in my current situation.

hopefully, chris would be able to find me.

after what felt like a long while, i was placed onto a chair.

suddenly, the blindfold that had been covering my eyes was yanked off, making me squint my eyes at the harsh lighting.

i blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the change.

“what’s wrong, princess? the light bothering you?” the man in front of me spoke.

he saw my eyebrows furrow in confusion and removed the piece of tape that covered my mouth.

“you recognize me yet?” he smirked at me.

i blinked up at him.

“of course not. we met briefly a while ago, but i’ll reintroduce myself. i’m jones, jake’s best friend”

my face fell at the revelation.

jake. as in the dude that chris beat to a bloody pulp and put into a coma, that jake.

“that’s right, honey. the one your boyfriend put in the hospital ”

well, i’m fucked.

he took in my frightened state, finding the way i shrank away from him amusing.

“yeah, not sure why your little fuck toy thought he was gonna get off scot-free, but he was wrong. cause i got the one thing he would do anything for, right here in front of me” he spoke as he twirled a knife between his fingers.

“can’t say i blame him though” he whispered as he brought the knife to my cheek, drawing the faintest bit of blood, making me grimace. “you’re a pretty little thing”

his hot breath blew in my face, making me back my head up as much as i possibly could.

“i apologize in advance” he spoke as he ran his finger along the edge of the knife, “but i do have to rough you up a little bit, send a message to your boy”

CHRIS’S POV

“are we sure that this is where he took her?” i asked as jerry pulled up the address.

“the street cams put him here about 20 minutes ago. he couldn’t have gotten much farther”

“i just wanna be sure, we don’t have any time to waste here. but if you’re positive, we need to move now” i spoke as i tucked my gun into my waistband.

suddenly, my phone dinged with a text message.

i pulled it out, seeing it was a text from her.

i was met with a photo, and my heart dropped at the sight.

several bruises covered her face, along with a cut by her hairline that was surrounded by dried up blood.

her face was covered in sweat and her eyes were tired, her white shirt covered in blood.

underneath was a text that read:

123 RANDOM ADDRESS

RANDOM CITY, STATE

better hurry.

READER’S POV

i had been in the same spot for hours. i was cold, hungry, and my legs had fallen asleep.

i was trying, but struggling to stay awake, knowing that i was losing too much blood to let my eyes close.

my face was sore, the constant blows to the face finally taking its toll on me.

there was a deep cut from jones’ knife that laid across my ribcage, but i tried not to focus on the stinging sensation.

i knew i was really starting to lose my grip on reality when i heard chris’s voice, as i knew he couldn’t possibly be here.

suddenly, the sound of gunshots going off around me made my eyes shoot open.

that definitely woke me up.

the ringing in my ears intensified as the sound of gunshots rang out.

i could barely keep up with what was happening as the room around me began to spin around.

i looked directly in front of me and was barely able to make out chris and jones fighting.

so i wasn’t hearing things.

my vision began to get blurry as i struggled to figure out who was who.

the sounds of grunts and blows being landed echoed through the room.

“chris” i whispered out, but not loud enough for him to hear.

chris spoke angrily, but all i was able to make out was, “you fuckers need to learn how to stay away from my girl”

chris was able to get on top of jones, and he punched him over and over again.

he seemed to be blinded by rage, and he had no intentions of stopping.

“chris” i spoke out, loud enough for him to hear this time.

his head snapped up at the sound, and he rushed over to me.

“oh my god, baby. the fuck did he do to you?” he whispered as he worked on untying my restraints.

he gently ran his hands over my wrists, looking at the bruises that the rope left on my skin.

“alright, i got you. come on” he whispered as he picked me up, bridal style.

“you made it” i smiled lightly, before my vision was consumed by darkness.

——

when i woke up, i heard the sound of monitors beeping next to me and i felt chris’s hand laying on top of mine.

i took in my surroundings, realizing that i was in the hospital.

when chris saw that i was awake, he immediately sprung up.

“hey mama, how you feeling?” he asked.

“i’m just glad that you’re here. i didn’t think you would find me” i whispered to him.

he brought his hand to my jaw, lightly caressing it “i’ll always find you, baby. i’d do anything to make sure you’re safe, you know that”

“i love you so fucking much” i spoke as i leaned my forehead on his.

“i love you too, ma. i got you, always” he said as he placed a kiss on my cheek.

—————

thank you to @lustfulslxt for reassuring me and pushing me to keep writing, i literally would not have finished this without you <33

main masterlist

dwb! chris masterlist

tag list: @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @oliviasturniolo21

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Bittersweet Savior

Gojo x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Things quickly go awry when you get sent on an emergency mission with your lover. When you both get split up, it's not long before this mission turns into a different kind of emergency.

Warnings: Profanity, Blood, Descriptions of reader getting their ass absolutely handed to them, Near death experience.

SMACK

The last thing you expected when you got sent on this mission with Satoru was to be launched through a wall by your fucking face. But as you blinked your eyes open through the incessant ringing and metallic taste on your tongue willing them to stay closed, you realized that this mission may have been a little (a lot) above your pay grade. The chewing out you were going to give Yaga after this mission might even rivel whatever injury Satoru’s going to tear you a new one for. At this point it seemed like the higher ups were trying to kill you.

You were barely able to stand up on shaky legs and a shitty sense of balance from your clearly concussed mind, but you managed. Alas, you stumbled, hand shooting out to what was left of the decimated wall for balance, as your other hand came up to use your technique. When, again, your body was shoved back in to the pile of rubble you had just climbed from. Your back hit the concrete with a sickening crunch, and a wail left you when you felt pain explode along your shoulder blades and cascade down your back like molten lava. Your head fell back, your neck resting at an odd angle as you sat locked in a world of agony. You tried your best to breath though it, but your chest heaved as you attempted to get your bearings. The next time someone at the school told you to fucking box breathe to cope during missions, was the day you would be put to death for murder.

The curse was seemingly toying with you as it stalked towards you with a sadistic grin, it’s skin a grotesque green with shell like shield formations covering it, It’s armor barely chipping against your prior use of your technique. You gritted your teeth upon realizing Gojo hadn’t returned since the cursed spirit had split you up with it’s multiple copies crowding the man. And if he was having trouble getting through multiple of them, it meant that this was a special grade, and your chances of getting through this one were slim to none.

Your body had become essentially numb to the pain as you backed yourself up the piled of rubble, your hands gripping the concrete as it sliced through your palms. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the crackles of pain shooting off along your spine as you tried to steady your breathing for the second time. Your hand raised as it curled into a fist, focusing your cursed energy into your palm as you let go of your middle and ring finger. Your technique manifested as a slice of wind launched towards the curse, cutting through the ground in its wake as it hurdled its way towards its target. You could hear it howl as it sliced through the air, tearing up the existing rubble and raking up pieces of it with its momentum.

The curse was flung onto its back as it collided with your cursed energy, throwing it across the ground, pieces of concrete and rock chipped at its armor as it was dragged further and further from you. You watched it tumble, rolling over a couple times as it’s hands gripped at the ground in a desperate attempt to slow its speed, despite the blade of wind actively shoving it further. Your technique only stopped when it slammed the cursed spirit into a building, the structure swaying at the impact as a cloud of dust and debris surfaced from the landing. A silence fell over the barren what once was a street, now more of a warzone, but it was short lived as you saw movement from among the cloud. It didn’t take long for the spirit to get up again, and your heart plummeted as you realized how little your technique did to it. It screeched as it got up, the sound piercing your eardrums as you flinched from the jolt of pain it sent through you.

A switch seemed to flip in your mind as you shot up, getting up off the rubble, deciding that it would be better to flee with your life than to try and fight a losing battle. Your palms left bloody handprints on the bits of rock and shale as you scrambled to get off the pile, feet clambering down the pile of blood-stained cement as you pushed yourself off of it, feet hitting solid ground as you broke into a sprint. You stumbled the slightest bit, but righted yourself as you attempted to fend off the violent nausea that plagued your sense of balance and direction. A steady burn started in your lungs as your fatigued body tried to keep up with the added exertion, your feet clapping against the ground as you ran with everything you had left in you.

Adrenaline shot through you when a solid object was thrown into your side, the shrapnel cutting through your hip and throwing you off balance as you were mercilessly thrown to the ground. Your body skidded across the tarmac as the wind was knocked out of you, coming to a stop as you hiccupped, heaving in a futile attempt to get air into your lungs. A grotesque wheezing sound came from you as you tried yet again, the strain in your chest finally letting up as you greedily sucked in mouthfuls of air. A sense of dread settled in the pit that had formed in your stomach, your throat closing up as a sense of panic took hold of you. You didn’t need to look down to know that the freshly made wound in your side was bleeding heavily, you could tell from how cold it felt when the wind brushed against it. You sensed that the absence of pain was due to shock, and that only meant that the injury was severe enough for your body to block it out. Your forehead came to rest on the hard asphalt, your body shaking from the shock your body was put under as you quickly weighed your options.

You assessed your physical state, and you really didn’t need to think too hard as you deduced that you were entirely fucked.

You had essentially accepted your fate by the time you had flipped over, and for a brief moment you wondered how Shoko would react to seeing your corpse in the mortuary. You felt the faintest sense of guilt at that sentiment, maybe if you had defected like Suguru, maybe you’d have been able to spare her the disappointment of seeing another one of her childhood friends exit the Jujutsu world, only this time in a body bag.

SMACK

That thought was quickly interrupted as the curse was kindly launched through a wall by it’s fucking face.

You didn’t even get a chance to process the relief at this development, as you saw a platinum head of hair pop in your vision and a hand come to pull his blindfold off as he stared down at you with those damn near blinding blue eyes of his. A grin spread across his features, a chuckle emanating from him as he looked you over.

“You don’t look so hot, princess.” He remarked slyly.

“Oh yeah, I’m great, thanks for asking.” You wheezed, hand coming to press into your side with a hiss. You flinched at the pressure, beginning to feel the warmth of your own blood flow through the spaces between your fingers. You felt the large divot that was now engraved in your side, and blinked up at Gojo when you saw his expression falter at the amount of blood beginning to pool around you. His signature smile fell slightly, silently examining you before pivoting around to face the curse head on.

“Just give me a minute to deal with this.” He said softly, and you nodded your head lightly. “Take all the time you need.” You hummed, a soft groan falling out of you as the shock began to wear off. You began to feel the steady thrum of pain throb through your being, squirming slightly as you laid on the ground.

You could hear the shuffle of rubble through the soft ringing in your ears. One second your eyes were on Satoru, and the next he had vanished, you barely had a second to flick your eyes over to the curse as you heard him sprint towards it with frightening speed. You saw his figure practically fly through the air as he cocked his leg back only to swing it at the cursed spirit. With a sickening crack, the curses head flew through the air, splitting it’s armor and leaving a stump in it’s wake. You flinched at the sight, tearing your eyes away as you heard its head roll across the dust scattered road.

You blinked and he was at your side yet again, face unreadable as he directed both of your hands over to your sliced open side. “Keep pressure on it.” He said, eyes flicking over your face as you laughed weakly. “Aww, c’mon don’t be like that, what happened to the cocky Satoru that never takes anything serious?” You joked, wincing as you obeyed his order, forcing your hands harder into your side. You struggled to keep pressure on it as you began to shake, hands trembling as they began to feel sticky from the blood.

“Shut up.” He scoffed, scooping one hand under your legs and another under your shoulders as he hoisted you up. A yell of pain left you at the movement, and his face fell the slightest bit as he adjusted you in his hold. “You’re pale, I’ve gotta get you to Shoko.” He stated softly, voice laced with a twinge of- dare you say- concern? Your laugh came out as more of a weak wheeze, head leaning against his shoulder as you stared up at him. “Yeah, I dunno about you but-“ you sucked in a breath of air, finding it getting harder to breathe as you gritted your teeth. “People usually get pale when they’re bleeding out.” You finished, eyebrows furrowing as a wave of nausea hit you.

A small smirk crept onto his face as he shrugged his shoulders lightly, your figure dipping the slightest bit with the movement. “I wouldn’t know, never bled out before.” He said with a huff. You snickered, shaking your head lightly as laughter wracked through you. A wave of pain hit you immediately after, and you tensed in his hold. “Ugh you’re such a dick.”

Your eyes slipped closed as you rested your head against his chest, feeling your surroundings change as you snapped them open again in surprise. You quickly took note of the beds that took up the room, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you blinked in shock. Your eyes flickered up to him, Brows knitting together in confusion as you realized what he had done. “Did you just-“

He cut you off, cocking a brow as he spoke. “Warp you to the infirmary? You really thought I was going to let you bleed out in the street? Wow, you wound me. Truly I don’t think I could ever recover-“ You cut him off with a soft slap to the chest, the action leaving a bloody handprint on his pristine white shirt. A groan sounding from you as you listen to him ramble about your subsequent betrayal.

“Just set me down and go get Shoko before you’re the one that ends up in a recovery bed.”

[coffeeviolinist]

One of the most fascinating things about Furuya Rei is how deeply unsettling his Amuro persona actually is, at least to anyone who truly knows him. I would argue that Amuro is even creepier than Bourbon because while Bourbon is a cold-blooded killer, at least with him, what you see is what you get. There's no darker side hiding behind Bourbon's mask because Bourbon is supposed to be evil.

But Amuro Tooru is meant to come off as (at least mostly) harmless. To anyone who only knows Amuro, it's easy to like him. He's friendly, charming, handsome, smart, maybe a bit dorky, and he's good with kids. Add the fact that he's also a customer service worker, and you've got yourself a man that most people would be completely fine with letting their guard down around - which is precisely what makes him so dangerous.

Because at the end of the day, Amuro is just a mask that Rei created to help further his mission. And Rei, as we all know, is the very opposite of harmless. We've seen time and time again that he has no problem with potentially destroying innocent lives if it benefits him in some way. None of the charming friendliness that Amuro Tooru displays is sincere because Furuya Rei has almost no one left alive in the world that he genuinely cares about. Arguably, the only people left alive that Rei cares about are Akai, Conan, Kazami, and maybe the Detective Boys (granted, Akai is more in the sense that it's impossible to hate someone and not care about them). And even then, Rei would have no problem with screwing them over for the sake of his mission and letting them get themselves out of trouble. Sure, he might hesitate a little if it was the DB since they're children, but he would ultimately still be able to do it, and he would leave it up to Conan (and Haibara) to save them.

I mean, he would fuck Akai's life up for a Klondike bar, but that's beside the point.

When it comes to everyone else, though, Rei couldn't care less about any of them. He would kill or at least majorly fuck them over for his own benefit in a heartbeat, and more to the point, he would care very little about ensuring that they had a way to save themselves or had someone that could save them. If they do, great, if not, well, sucks to be them, but it was for the greater good. At any given time, anyone who knows him as the cheerful, dorky, nice guy (no, not that type of nice guy) Amuro - Ran, Sonoko, Azusa, Hattori, the Poirot customers who keep fawning over him, anyone - could find themselves on the wrong end of one of his schemes, and the odds of him feeling any remorse if they die or have their lives permanently ruined in some way are slim to none.

TL;DR: Amuro Tooru is the type of guy who pretends to be a friend and lures people into a false sense of security while holding a knife to their back, and that, at least to me, is far more disturbing than a man who's just an outright ruthless criminal.

[miss-cincaide]

Numbers Three To Ten 

Summary: You feel pity for the way he whines that he’s all alone, that a woman will never want to sleep with him, inadvertently walking right into the sweet torture he’s set out for you, with toys and a set up that leaves you desperately counting up from three to ten. 

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Mahito  Kinktober prompt 6: Gags  WC: 1.9K Warnings: Dark content  including gag ball, light choking, toys, pressure, some unhealthy play, feet, multiple O's, jerking off,

“Women don’t love me!” 

“All women?” You raise a slim eyebrow at the pale-skinned, patched-together curse opposite you. A little smirk plays on your lips as you watch him, his head on his arm, staring at the alcoholic Mohito in front of himself. His free hand grips the measly straw, trying to stab the mint leaves in his drink. “Or just the women you’ve asked out? You know, the normal ones who don’t dig curses, stitches and death-coloured skin.” 

You wave your hand in his general direction, and Mahito sticks his tongue out, making a face of your words. You flip him the bird, and he goes right back to pouting. 

“Ahh, what’s the point? They’re all just going to say the same thing anyway!” Mahito buries his head in his arm like a little moody kid who didn’t get his favourite toy for Christmas. “Unless you’re buying them off the streets, none of them will ever say yes to me!” 

He is precisely like a moody, spoiled kid on Christmas, except where the ‘toy’ is sex, and ‘Christmas’ a woman putting out without him having to pay for the hour. You’d have felt an inch of pity for him if he weren’t the boss's favourite. The fact of the matter is if Mahito wanted anything, Kenjaku would most probably give it to him. He’d make his work his pretty curse ass for it, but Mahito would get his wish fulfilled nonetheless. A fact that made you, who was just hired to do odd jobs here and there, never a guarantee to the group, funds or safety,  just the slightest bit bitter. 

“As I said, just the women you ask out. You can’t expect a babe who sees a grey corpse to drop her panties for you” You take a clunk of your rusty nail half, finishing the drink. “Go for someone with cursed energy; a sorcerer, another curse, hell, even a human with sight who hangs around the cemetery, and your chances of getting your dick wet will skyrocket.” 

Suddenly, Mahito is in your face, eyes wide and a manic grin to match. “So if I ask you for a night, you’ll say yes?” 

You realise you walk right into that one. Some of you feel embarrassed, and others a little awkward at being propositioned so openly at the hideout.  Although you’re alone in this fake hideout bar, with only bottles and glasses to keep you company, there’s no telling who or what is listening in. Still, you hide that embarrassment behind your glass, taking a long sip while considering his question. Mahito is cute, shorter and smaller than your usual type, but not ugly. His power and connections are an added bonus- a make-up factor for his likely shortcomings in other departments. Because let’s face it, those skinny jeans weren’t hiding a 10-incher. 

“Maybe” " you mumble, a hint of a smile on your lips as you down the last of your drink- a feeble attempt to hide from his prying eyes and lewd grin. When that didn’t help or get him to back away, you ruffled his hair as though he were a kid. He gets back in your face, though, slowly licking his lips, something between a pervy grin and a predatory smile. 

You shudder and jump off the barstool. 

“I’m gonna hold you to it”, Mahito calls, finishing his drink and then rushes to catch up to you with quick steps. 

You just roll your eyes, trying to keep your blush at bay as he practically dances around you as though you were a Christmas tree. “So whatcha into, kitten? Choking? Slapping? Doggy? Doesn’t matter! I’m sure you won't return to the boring stuff once you have some of me.” 

He dances around you towards his room, opening it with a kick before jumping behind and urging you in. The place, to your surprise, is barren, practically empty. Everything is meticulously stuffed away in drawers and cupboards. The bed looks clean, almost untouched. Although you probably shouldn’t be surprised if he only used it for ‘fun times’- curses didn’t sleep, did they? 

You find your voice and speak, an unmistakable shake in it as you answer his cocky comment. “Won’t go back? Damn, that sounds like a threat Mahito. Are you going to what? Turn me into one of those moaning blobs of yours.” 

You laugh, he doesn’t.

 He is too busy rooting around the cupboards in his room, moving one thing, second, third, cursing before he’s back in front of you again with such speed he makes you jump. Or was it the room's dim lighting that made you miss his movements? 

“You mean morph your soul? Hmm, I could do that if you don’t behave, that is,” His hands reach for your face, cold fingers grasp your cheeks in one of his hands, and he turns your face side to side before smooshing them together. “ I like my women quiet, you know? None of that fake moans, talk, gaps, praise.” 

You try- and fail- to pull your lips into a frown. “Beggers can’t be choosers”, you try to mutter, but it comes out muffled. You slap his hand away and try to repeat yourself. “Beggars can-” he cuts you off by showing a ball gag against your lips.

Suddenly, Mahito slams you against the door behind you. The little curse, a head shorter than you, suddenly feels the same height. His eyes are practically glowing, a wide, sadistic grin on his face, a knee between your legs, a hand on your throat squeezing just enough to let you know it’s there. And the other is still holding the ball gag to your lips, pushing right past them up against your teeth. 

“ I said, I like my women quiet. Now, be a kitten and do as you’re told. Or else. You won’t like ‘what else’” Mahito watches you, your every reaction, your every breath, a challenge in his expression. The hand around your throat tightens slightly, and you break eye contact with him. 

When did the pewny little Mahito become such a dominating ass? 

You don’t know whether to be surprised, aroused or scared. The one thing is certain: you’re not leaving anytime soon, certainly not until he’s done with you. Almost angrily, your teeth part, and you wrap your lips around the gag ball. Instantly, Mahito’s hands let go of your body and reach behind you to tie the thing firmly into place. 

“ That's not so bad, right?” You groan a reply, words unformable. “Ahh ahh ahh, quiet women, remember?” Mahito waves a finger in front of you in a side-to-side motion before tilting your chin up. Then his hand trails lower, first slowly, then inhumanly fast, as though he had several arms. “You won’t be needing those”

You blink, your clothes are gone, your naked aroused body on full display. But he isn’t fucking touching you, no, Mahito is pulling you to his bed. He stops you a distance away, changes his mind and jumps behind you, his hands on your eyes. “Let's make it a surprise, a fun surprise doll. To warm you up, pick a number, let's say between one and five.” 

Remember his wonders: you raise your fingers, three. Number three feels safe, even as he pushes you to the bed and then kicks you into it. You brace yourself against the covers, wiping off the dripping ball against the sheets. You feel yourself shudder in anticipation, shifting a little on the bed to rub your legs together, getting yourself even more worked up. This is so weird but also exciting, definitely kinky.

Maybe you’ll even get off on this.

You hear him count: one, two, three. What even was three? You don’t know; it felt like a middle ground, a safe place – oh god! 

A fucking vibrator?! Straight on your unexpected clit?!

You scream, and the ball muffles the sound, the feeling so intense you try to wiggle away from it. Mahito pulls your right back, a foot landing on your head keeps you from squirming away, a hand pulls your arms back, locking them on your back, and the other hand’s torturing your pussy. On your clit, around it, down your slick folds and back up again. Speeding up, slowing down. Pressing hard down, then gentle, then gone. 

“Ohh, is it so intense, kitten? Let's see how you handle number 4” Mahito’s foot readjusts on the back of your head, pressing your drooling face into the mattress. You’re shuddering, gasping in anticipation, trembling.  

Is number four bigger? Is it also a vibrator? A dildo? FUCK it was a rabbit. Four inches inside you, two vibrating ears bullying your clit. 

“Mmmmm!” 

The ball in your mouth is tight and soaked, drool pooling under your face, leaving a huge wet patch on the bed. But it doesn’t match the gush of your pussy around the toy. Hot juices everywhere: on Mahito, on his hand and the bed. And you’re whimpering and twitching on the bed even after the toy is gone, and his foot still keeps your face down, you keep your needy ass up.  

“Five?” 

You nod quickly. The foot disappears, and he pulls you up with his hair. You’re on your knees on the bed, hands behind your back. Mahito holds it for you as you slide down the five-inch dildo. Once it’s snuggly inside you, he lets it go, leaving you to bounce on it alone. 

You don’t disappoint, whining as you ride it. Your eyes locked with him, the way he watches your every move from the sidelines. Hand on his cock, stroking himself to your thrusts. You want to give him a show, throwing your head back, putting extra effort in your thrusts so your tits bounce up and down with each thrust of your hips. You whine and slobber, drool pooling around the gag before it rolls down your chin. 

You stick your tongue out and lap at the ball from the side just a little. In that second, you see something change in Mahito; he’s moaning, his hand picking up speed, and then slows down as you do. “Keep going, kitten, come on, work those slutty thighs. Go on; I wanna hear you moaning as you cum around that tiny toy.” 

Who are you to deny him? 

You drop back on your back as your come, eyes on the ceiling, desperately panting, keenly aware of the toy slowly sliding out of your slick hole. You whine a little; you want it in you, pushed as far as it would go. Mojito leaves you whining, not letting you touch it or yourself until your breathing goes back to normal.

You’ve recovered; it's time for round three. 

“Still Needy?” Mahito’s laughing at you, toying with you, pushing the tip of the Rabbit in and out, relishing in the sight. “If that’s how you’re at five, just wait until we get to ten, kitten.” 

You want to scream ‘fuck yeah,’ but all you let out is an excited moan and a manic grin that matches his own. You don’t know why you hesitated to sleep with Mahito or why anyone would hesitate to have such intense sex with him, but at this point, you consider it their loss. Because after five, there are still four numbers, and your pussy can’t wait to try every one of them out. 

To see which one you like best, of course.

Author note! God it's so frustrating that Tumblr keeps filtering my fics out from the latest feed.. anyone knows why it keeps doing that?

Main |Raven|Rules & Requests |Masterlist | Links 

All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL [ch. 4]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Three

➨ Chapter Four

Next: Chapter Five

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

A/N: shout out to my very own "power bottom at rock bottom" (aka my roommate) for harnessing her inner Angel Dust and feeding into some of his dialogue.

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER FOUR

The car ride home was mostly silent and incredibly tense.

You also couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When you looked around to sate your paranoia, you found nothing suspicious and whittled it down to the anxiety having your face plastered across every news channel in hell.

On your way out of her father’s manor, you decided to fill Charlie in about your hands and cheek. She said it was a gamble whether her dad would react well to your being human or not. Being neutral to it, however, was something she would not have imagined. She was just relieved that you were alright. 

She theorized that he may have assumed you were just wearing face paint for ‘shits and giggles’ (your words, not hers). There were some demons in Hell that did have skin tones similar to when they were human, so it wouldn’t be too outrageous for you to, as well.

Though it would be no surprise if he jumped to the conclusion that you were human due to your being televised all over Hell the day prior.

Not knowing where his head was at was going to kill you.

But worrying about that wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Charlie believed you two had searched everywhere in her old place that was likely to hold the key to you getting home. To your relief, the likelihood of returning was slim to none.

There was no need to stress over her father figuring you out since you wouldn’t have to risk running into him again.

The only thing you needed to focus on was getting those godforsaken cobwebs off the chandelier in the hotel foyer.

Vaggie was able to get the place mostly cleaned up in the time you were gone, but there were still a few things left that you were able to help with. After all they had done for you, this was the least you could do for them in return.

As you climbed back down the ladder, you saw Charlie pacing and muttering to herself. Even though you only met her recently, you knew how much the hotel and her plan to redeem sinners meant to her.

If this didn’t go well, she would absolutely take it to heart. She seemed like the type to barricade herself in a room to sulk for weeks on end. Or maybe bawl her eyes out whilst shoveling heaping spoonfuls of ice cream down her own throat.

Probably both.

“You know, this place is really coming together,” you said as you walked up to her.

She paused to face you.

“You think so?” she asked, glancing around the foyer in search of anything in need of tending. “Gosh, what if he doesn’t like the color scheme, or—or the motifs? What if he decides he isn’t interested in redemption at all?”

“Hey,” you said to get her attention as you leaned back into her view. “If he weren’t interested in what you’re offering, he wouldn’t be coming by to check things out. And I really don’t think your choice in décor will be what turns him away.”

You chuckled a bit as you glanced at the odd horse statues and slightly tattered wallpaper. It wasn’t modern or trendy, but it did have character. That was for sure.

She nodded with a far-off gaze, ruminating on your words.

“Even if he does decide that this isn’t for him—though I don’t think that will happen—there are so many people down here! I find it hard to believe that you won’t find some who are interested,” you continued. “Think about all the souls that believed they’d be going to Heaven but ended up here instead. They’d probably give up an arm and a leg to be redeemed.”

Her shoulders slacked, and her back loosened as she released a deep breath. Looking back at you, her face appeared more relaxed.

“Yeah…you’re totally right,” she said with a soft smile. “We just need to be patient.”

“I think this guy would be stupid not to accept your offer.” You bumped her arm playfully as you went to continue tidying up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her smile and walk off, presumably to do the same.

Everyone was putting the final touches on everything when there was a knock on the front door. You paused in the middle of sliding the sofa across the room so you could get a look at whoever was there.

Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other in surprise.

“I told him to text or call before showing up,” Vaggie grumbled, running a hand through her bangs as she went to answer the door.

He was quite…tall.

You had forgotten their appearances could vary so much. Charlie, her father, and Vaggie were relatively similar to a regular person, despite some slight cosmetic differences. This guy, however, had an extra set of limbs and was covered head to toe in what looked like fur. 

Upon closer inspection, he also had what appeared to be three additional pairs of eyes underneath his primary ones.

Was he supposed to be a bug?

You shuffled forward as Charlie introduced herself. She had fixed up your makeup once you returned, so there was nothing to worry about regarding your own appearance. You had double and even triple-checked beforehand.

“This is it?”

“Uh…yes?” Charlie said meekly with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

He gave the foyer a hard once-over.

“Eh, anything’s betta’ than my current digs,” he said with a shrug and started walking around. “You got drinks?”

“No? The point of redemption is to stop engaging in sin,” Vaggie stated, crossing her arms. “Which means cutting out drugs?”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he said as his body slumped. “What the hell am I supposed to do then? Play checkers?”

“Ooh, Checkers would be a fun way to break the ice!” Charlie sang, clapping her hands together.

This earned her a blank look from the new guest.

“Aha…” she laughed awkwardly at the bland response, then turned to gesture at you. “Well, this is our current resident! We have faith that she will be redeemed very soon.”

You gave a wide smile as you were being shown off. Should you strike a pose? Put your hands on your hips and puff your chest out in pride?

You didn’t mind being a fake example of a sinner-gone-good to help her out. It was the least you could do at this point. Plus, when you finally got the hell out of there, you could all play it off as you being ‘redeemed’.

“Yup, yup. Sin-free life has been pretty great,” you said, crossing your arms.

The guy already seemed exasperated. Vaggie was right when she said he was more interested in free rent than redemption itself.

“What did you say your name was again?” you asked in an attempt to keep the conversation from dying out before it had even started.

He perked a bit and plastered on a sultry smirk.

“Angel Dust,” he said as he swiped a hand through his hair(?) (head fluff?). “If you’re interested in gettin’ to know me betta’, I’ve got a nice collection of videos I can refer ya to.”

“No,” Vaggie groaned. “He’s a pornstar.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, more power to you,” you shrugged, and he snickered.

“Wasn’t expectin’ that sorta career choice to fly with someone aspirin’ to cross through them pearly gates.” He tilted his head as he eyed you carefully, leaning down slightly to be more at your eye level. 

“What makes you think that?” you asked, raising your chin. “In my opinion, a redeemable gal like myself should be respectful of other’s bodily autonomy.”

“Last I checked, the pious types weren’t so down with cock-suckin’ hoes. I mean,” he paused and smirked, “some of ‘em were down with us cock-suckin’ hoes, but they did their darndest to pray that shit away afterward. The guilts part of the kink.”

Vaggie’s stance tensed more and more with each word that came out of his mouth. You were pretty sure her eye was twitching.

“Good people are accepting people!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

“You ain’t ever have to deal with the living, sugar-tits,” Angel said, draping himself over the couch in a way you were sure would be put on the front cover of a Playboy magazine. “But sure.”

You all began a short tour of the hotel much like the one you got when you first arrived. This time, however, Charlie was really trying to sell her redemption plan to him. She explained the terms of their deal. He would refrain from acts of sin, such as violence, drugs, yada-yada, and he could stay there for free.

As you began filing out of one of the available, move-in-ready rooms, you noticed Angel pause. He was looking at the ground with a blank expression, clearly contemplating something. You assumed he was weighing the pros and cons of Charlie’s offer, but you were no mind reader.

After showing off most of the relevant parts of the hotel, you gathered back in the entryway. Charlie stared Angel down expectantly, waiting in suspense for his decision.

She was overjoyed when he finally agreed.

“There’s no harm in tryin’, I guess.” He shrugged shooting a half-lidded smirk. “But I ain’t makin’ no promises that I’ll be the paragon of redeemability. I ain’t that type of model.”

When he left, he said he had to clear some things with his boss first and then he would start this whole ‘redemption thing’.

The three of you had a miniature celebration—juice, soda, and popcorn to go along with eager chatter—before you decided to address the stack of books you had hauled back to the hotel.

The evening was going swimmingly thus far, and you hoped that good luck would carry on to the very end of the night. Somewhere in that pile was your key to getting home. Your fingers were crossed that you would be sleeping in your own cozy bed that night.

You could finally take up your own offer on a nice hot bubble bath and let it soak away all the stress that had stockpiled within your body.

Sitting in a circle around the books, you began sifting through them.

Your hope dwindled bit by bit with every one you flipped through and set aside. They had everything to do with the living world except for the means of getting there.

Once the last book was deemed useless, you sat in sullen silence. A sort of emptiness settled within your chest.

If that was your best shot at returning, what else was there?

“Okay…that’s okay!” Charlie said in an attempt to lighten the mood. “We just have to try something else. Vaggie, you said you knew people who had access to Earth, right?”

“I said I knew of people,” she corrected. “But I did do a little bit of digging while you were out, and I might have a few leads?”

“Oh, perfect!” Charlie chirped, sitting straight up with her hands on her knees. “How about we look into those tomorrow then?”

You and Vaggie both nodded because what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t really have the option of giving up in this situation. Your life wasn’t going to wait on hold forever. It probably wasn’t waiting at all.

At this point, two full days would have passed since you ‘disappeared,’ but living alone makes it harder for people to notice that sort of thing. You doubted Devon would have reported it since that would likely result in them getting into even deeper shit (in addition to the can of whoop-ass you’d release onto them once you made it back).

And you knew better than to put any amount of faith into Jack. You were sure he noticed your absence. You had the texts to prove it. But he seemed to be convinced you were giving him the cold shoulder, which would most likely result in him pretending he didn’t give two flying fucks about you.

Fuck that bitch.

♡

You wouldn’t say you slept like a baby that night, but you sure did sleep. You slept with the weight of despair threatening to overtake you with each failed attempt of finding a way back home.

And you know what?

It wasn’t half bad. Would you recommend it to someone else? No, not really. But you couldn’t tell them it was terrible.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you padded your way down the grand staircase. It was nice not having to wake up early to get all done up, but you still felt groggy. Possibly from sleeping too much.

You also appreciated being able to spend more time in the pajamas you were given, because good lord were they comfy.

Charlie and Vaggie let you know last night that they’d be leaving earlier in the morning to talk to the folks Vaggie believed might be able to access the living world. You stayed behind because you all agreed that dragging you through public in a not-so-durable disguise was a disaster waiting to happen.

However, they planned to be back in time for Charlie’s father to visit.

He had called her the previous night—just before you were all about to go your separate ways—to let her know he wanted to stop by. She told him he could drop by in the afternoon, and that was that.

You planned to coup yourself up in your room for the duration of his visit. You would rather die than address what had happened with the paint. If he had any questions regarding that, he could direct them towards his daughter. Thank you and goodnight (love you, Charlie! Muah!).

There was nothing to do until Charlie and Vaggie returned, but you still wanted caffeine or anything that could clear your brain fog.

They had stocked up the fridge and ‘pantry’ a bit more since you arrived, and Angel would likely move in any day now so there was also that to consider. Yet it was still a gamble on whether or not you could find something appealing.

You kneeled down in front of the fridge and began rummaging through your options.

Mysterious leftovers?

No.

Artichoke Hearts?

Eh…for breakfast? Probably not.

Coconut Milk?

No… You were surprised they even had coconuts in Hell. Unless, of course, they had sinners that manifested as coconuts, then you reckon they could milk—

No, absolutely not.

You were thinking about settling on a popsicle when you heard a knock at the front door.

Nobody should have been stopping by yet. Charlie’s dad wouldn’t be there until later, and you guys weren’t expecting anyone else. It could possibly be Angel, but you doubted he already spoke to his boss considering it was still morning.

The stained-glass doors didn’t disclose much about your surprise visitor. They were merely a shadowy figure, distorted by the odd shapes and colors.

Regardless of who it could be, you needed to hide or at least find a way to get back upstairs without being seen.

Slowly rising to your feet, you locked onto a rather large crate near the edge of the entryway.

You wouldn’t have to cross in front of the door to get there, which was ideal. Even though you knew the person on the other side couldn’t see you clearly, you preferred they not know you were there at all. Once you were at the crate, you could easily make your way around the room undetected.

Just as you were about to slip around it, you heard the front door creak open.

“Hello~” sang a familiar voice.

You hastily dodged behind the crate, your feet sliding slightly underneath you due to the new socks you had been gifted by your hosts. Thankfully, you were able to stabilize yourself before falling into anything.

Your heart was pounding away in your chest.

What was he doing here so early?

You pressed your back against the crate as you carefully sat down to wait for him to pass. Listening to his footsteps crossing the room was doing nothing to soothe your nerves. It was clear that he was in no rush to move on through the hotel. You could hear him as he sauntered around the foyer, pausing every once in a while before continuing on.

If he was taking in the sights, it was only a matter of time before he got to your side of the foyer.

You had to get out.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly peeked around your hiding spot to see where he was and whether he was looking your way.

To your relief, Charlie’s father was investigating a portrait on the wall opposite of you.

You wasted no time creeping across the floor to take cover behind the tattered old reception area. There was a body-length mirror resting against the wall just a few feet away that would give you a relatively good view of where he was.

As you were about to lean close enough to see through the mirror’s reflection, you heard him begin to hum just a few feet away. You scrambled to get beneath the desk.

How did he get so close so fast?

You understood the guy wasn’t human, but still. You were able to hear his footsteps clear as day up until that point. He shouldn’t know you were there; you were being so quiet…

Holding your breath, you waited for him to put some distance between the two of you. When you felt he was far enough away, you slowly scooted to the other side of the desk where you could hopefully get a view of the mirror.

Hearing him tampering with something, so you took the opportunity to glance at the mirror’s reflection.

He was prodding at one of the broken columns, testing its stability, it seemed. And his back was facing you. Perfect.

Glancing around the edge of the reception desk, you could see that the stairs weren’t too far away. It was a pretty open area, however, so you wondered if it would be better to beeline it down the adjacent hall instead.

Figuring that was likely the safer option, you checked the mirror once more to make sure his back was still turned.

You met his gaze in the reflection, and your eyes went wide as his lips curled into a wicked grin.

Fuck.

In a panic, you threw yourself out of view and knocked your head into the desk’s edge. The collision was certainly loud enough for him to hear, but you kept your pained whine quiet as you cradled your temple.

Your train of thought was quickly growing fuzzy, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Was it best to run?

What if he was faster?

Would your chances be better if you found another place to hide?

Probably not… He already knew where you were, and you weren’t sure where else you could even go.

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay where you were. If his eyes were still trained on the mirror, you would probably be better off going back the way you came. Maybe there was a gap in the crate that you could worm through to hide. It would be like you disappeared.

You turned back in that direction, and as you were about to dart back to the safety of your original hiding spot, two legs stepped in front of you.

You gasped, sliding to a halt just before you could crash into him.

Charlie’s father slowly crouched down to your level as you tilted your head to look up at him, eyes as wide as saucers. His smile was wide, showing off his large, pointed teeth.

“What do we have here?”

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

Tag List: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150 @froggybich @darling-angel222 @preciousbabypeter

[lupinsversion]

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 - 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

• summary: reader has been struggling to keep her feelings to herself, so what’s a better way to ignore them than to push away her best friend who is the source of these feelings?

• a/n: enjoy part one, part two will be out on 10/14

• contains: billy russo x fem reader, best friend trope, partying, drinking, angst

• word count: 1.7k

masterlist || requests || part two

She was in a predicament. The pair had been friends for what felt like forever, and recently she had started to realize something: she was falling for him. She knew it was foolish, knew that the odds of him returning her feelings were slim to none, but she couldn’t help it. The way he smiled, the sound of his laugh, the way he always knew just what to say to make her day better - it all sent her heart into a flutter.

The problem was, she was terrified of losing him. Billy meant so much to her, more than he could ever possibly know. She feared that if she acted on her feelings, she would ruin their friendship irreparably. So, she tried to bury her feelings, to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat every time he touched her, to act as if everything was normal.

Saturday night was party night. Friends gathered in Frank’s house, music blasting, drinks flowing. She was there too, standing off to the side with a beer in hand, watching as people danced, talked, laughed. Her eyes kept straying towards one person in particular, a certain tall, dark-haired man who was laughing heartily at some joke. Billy Russo.

Billy was in a good mood. The party was lively, full of his favorite people. He’d been mingling, chatting, and laughing like the social butterfly he was. However, his eyes would occasionally flicker towards a specific person, a woman with the most striking features who was standing slightly apart from the group, a beer clutched in her hand. Her.

The one time their eyes met, she cut it short by taking a long swig from the glass bottle. She cursed herself for choosing a lame beer instead of something stronger, she definitely needed something stronger.

Walking over to the kitchen island cluttered in various bottles of different shapes and sizes, she chose the latter and grabbed some tequila, pouring it into a new red solo cup. A piece of her hair fell into her face during the act, causing her to stubbornly huff and attempt to blow it out of the way.

She set the bottle down with a decently loud thud, though the sound was covered by the music that blasted through the speakers. She picked up the red solo cup in one hand whilst the other tapped her fingertips against the marble countertop. With a swift movement, she took a decent amount of tequila into her mouth, humming from the burning sensation it left in her throat

“Trying to drown something there?”

His voice, smooth and deep, suddenly appeared right next to her, causing her to jump slightly. She didn’t hear him approach, and there he was, leaning against the countertop, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, my sanity.” She grumbled, placing the solo cup back down onto the counter, her hand remaining around it as she stared at the contents as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

He let out a soft chuckle, watching her intently. He could tell there was something going on with her, something more than just the typical party boredom. He studied her profile, the way her hair fell into her face before she impatiently blew a strand out of the way again.

His gaze flicked to her hair, noting how it stubbornly fell into her face twice now, almost as if it was trying to get in the way. Watching her blow it back again made him let out an amused scoff.

“You know hair ties are a thing, right?“ He teased lightly, still watching her carefully, noting the way she seemed to be avoiding looking at him directly.

“I don’t have one.” She murmured as she finally looked up at him.

He quirked an eyebrow in response, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I refuse to believe that a woman with hair like yours doesn’t have even one hair tie.“ He teased once more, his eyes still studying her features as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Plans went astray, didn’t think I would be needing one.” She shrugged, running her finger along the edge of her cup.

He hummed in response, the sound low and deep, almost like a rumble in his chest. His eyes flicked down to her finger tracing the edge of her new cup, then back up to her face.

“Well, lucky for you, I always come prepared.” He drawled out, his smirk growing as he gently lifted up his wrist, showing off the elastic hair tie he had around it.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of it. “Where on earth did you get that?” It wasn’t a usual sight, or a sight at all really, for Billy to be having a hair tie.

He looked down at the hair tie, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his lips, knowing he would get a reaction from her.

“This little thing?“ He said in a faux innocent tone, “Found it a while back, just been holding onto it in case someone needed it.“ He looked back up at her, his smile still present as he held his wrist, the hair tie looped around it, out to her.

“No, thanks.” She said softly, running a hand through her hair to brush some strands out of her face. “I’m not one to wear another woman’s hair tie.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as she refused his offer, his smirk faltering a little, replaced by something else, a different kind of gleam in his gaze. “Who said it was another woman's?“ He retorted, lifting an eyebrow in question, his tone now carrying a hint of curiosity mixed with some kind of challenge.

“It definitely isn’t yours.” She shot back before taking another sip from her drink. She knew that much was true, Billy would never be caught dead tying his hair up.

His lips twitched in a small, almost mocking smile, his arms still crossed over his chest as he looked down at her, his eyes holding her gaze. “Maybe I’m just hiding my secret feminine side.” He drawled, his tone sarcastic but with a hint of playfulness behind it.

“I don’t need your help.” She stated kindly before refilling her drink once it ran empty. She couldn’t be this close to him, not right now, and definitely not sober. “Just go back to joining the party, William.”

He watched as she refilled her drink, his gaze flickering up to her face again, his expression turning more serious as she dismissed him, his name coming out of her lips in a tone that he wasn't used to hearing.

He pushed himself off the counter, standing up straight, his eyes still fixed on her as he moved a little closer, his voice dropping to a quieter volume.

“What’s bothering you?“ He asked gently, his tone softer than before, his eyes searching her face for any sign of an answer.

“Nothing is bothering me.” She shrugged his words off. Everything was wrong, she was growing bothered with every second his cologne filled her senses. “I’m just not in the mood for company.” Yeah, that was a good excuse she thought. Dumbass.

He let out a scoff at her words, unbelieving of her attempt to brush him off with such a piss poor excuse. He knew her better than that. And he wasn’t about to let her get away with it so easily. He leaned in closer, invading her personal space, his head tilting slightly as he studied her face, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Bullshit.“ He said simply, his tone holding a bit of an edge to it, clearly not buying her excuse.

“Bullshit.” She repeated. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” She continued with a bit of an attitude that she hadn’t meant to have. “Just go.”

He watched her repeat the word, each time with more heat in her tone, his lips pressing together into a tight line as his eyes darkened slightly. He leaned in even closer, his body practically pressed against hers now, pinning her against the counter, his arms now resting on either side of her, trapping her in place.

He was close enough that he could see the subtle shift in her eyes, the way her features tightened as she tried to mask whatever was going on. He could practically smell the tension and something else… frustration?

She hated the way his chest felt against her back, but loved it so much she didn’t want it to go away. ‘We’re just best friends, that’s all’, she kept repeating to herself. Her fists clenched and unclenched against the counter. “Can you back up? I don’t want you touching me.”

His jaw clenched slightly at her words. It was clear she was trying to put up a front, trying to put some distance between them. But he wasn’t about to just back off so easily.

He leaned in even closer, his chest now fully pressed against her back, his breath warm against her ear. “I don’t think you mean that.“ He said lowly, his voice smooth and deep, the sound sending a shiver down her spine despite the way she tensed up in response to his proximity.

“Damnit, William!” Her frustration poured out in her words as she forcefully moved his arm away from her so she was able to escape. “I don’t want to be around you tonight, okay?”

He let her move his arm, though his hands gripped the counter tighter, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was annoyed, frustrated at her for pushing him away, and her words only made his irritation grow. “What the hell is your problem?” He snapped back, his voice rising as he turned to face her, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, then when I try to talk to you, you blow me off?”

She huffed, closing her eyes for a second. “Just leave me alone. It’s better.” And then she turned on her heel, pushing through the bodies of the other party goers.

He watched as she walked away, his expression a mix of anger and confusion.

"Better for who!?" He called out after her, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter of the others. He wanted to go after her, to make her explain herself, but he knew she wouldn't talk even if he did try.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

© lupinsversion 2024

[ghostandsoap]

Double-Sided

John Price x Fem! “Peach” Reader

Tags: Angst. Momma Peach and Poppa Price fight in front of the “kids.”

Word Count: 4.8k

“I would’ve if you had let me.”

She had been at it for hours.

She had a side stitch from standing for so long and the splitting pain in her head was only getting worse with each passing moment. The stress and tension of the room didn’t help, but there was no way she was giving in. 

She could do this all day, but it was beginning to take a toll on her.

Her brain felt like it was swimming in circles. The same movements repeated in her hand gestures and leg motions, and the same threats and words of venom spit from her mouth as she tried to break the man sitting in the middle of the room.

Apparently, he had the same kind of patience that she did. Besides, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere.

He had stopped trying to fight the restraints of his chair long ago. He wasn’t getting up from where he sat without some outside help, which he most surely wouldn’t be getting. Ghost and Soap had been the ones to wrestle and tie him down, so the odds of him getting loose were slim to none.

It was well into the night. Darkness and stars had painted the sky hours ago. Too bad she and the rest of the Force were stuck inside trying to get answers out of this scumbag, who didn’t show any signs of giving up the information she wanted from him.

Notorious criminal was a basic definition of his character. He and his posse of “colleagues” had been tied to four different chemical warfare incidents in the last several months. “Colleagues” was a term that he so leisurely used, but she hardly considered them to be friendly co-workers. 

He and his crew had designed and created a chemical weapon that had been used in these chemical attacks over the course of the last several months. They had only just now caught up to him, because he was just as good as staying under the radar as he was making his mark. 

Word was that they had sent a “special shipment” of this lab-made weapon to an official location, but the destination was unknown – hence why Peach had been grilling him for half the night at this point. They needed to find the shipment and intercept it before it reached where it was intended to go. A mass exposure to this chemical weapon could mean a lot of damage and fatalities. 

Time wasn’t on her side, and he was stalling and wasting as much of it as he could. 

She was the best interrogator of the team. Each member had their own strengths when it came to squeezing answers out of a person of interest. 

Soap had a certain way with words that could cause the subject to unintentionally give up information. Gaz was cool and convincing, and Price had a temper on him that could shake up pretty much anyone. Ghost was just plain scary – he could merely walk in the room and some people would fold immediately.

But Peach had a little bit of it all. She was convincing and smooth, but could also turn angry and loud. She had it down to a science, but this was her hardest attempt yet. 

Usually she slapped them around a little bit. It sped up the process and you wouldn’t believe the people that caved just because they didn’t want to be beat up by such a sweet-looking woman. Other times though, it slowed everything down. It was a risk that usually had to be weighed once she was in the middle of things and had scoped it out.

But Price had given her once simple command before she began her interrogation.

“Whatever you do, don’t lay a finger on him.”

She had whined and protested, begging her Captain to give her the freedom to get her hands bloody if she needed it. It wasn’t like she ever really hurt anybody that bad. She could control herself much more than if Price went in there and put his hands on the guy.

Still, John feared that if she used her knuckles instead of her head, then they’d never get anything out of him.

Right now she was trying the convincing approach, although she wasn’t getting anywhere. In the last several hours, she had probably asked him what felt like about 100 questions, and he hadn’t answered a single one. He dodged every question and demand and brushed off every insult, threat, and comment. 

She circled him for what had to have been the millionth time. She was sick of looking at his face, and she could only imagine he was tired of seeing her too.  

“That shipment must be goin’ somewhere real important if you’re this tight lipped about it,” She persuaded, her hands shoving into the pockets of her cargo pants. “Must be headed for someone mighty special.”

There had been a few times where she was positive that he was about to give something up, but then he’d catch himself and change the subject completely. 

“That accent…” He rumbled, and she didn’t even bother resisting to roll her eyes. “You’re a long way from home, huh?”

She could only describe his voice as snakelike. It had a certain pitch to it, and all of his “S” sounds were drawn out like a hiss. 

A few times, she entertained his counter questions. If it brought her closer to getting something out of him, then she didn’t mind giving up some personal information of her own. It was a fair trade off, if you will.

“Haven’t been home in a long time,” She answered. “I can’t seem to ditch the accent.”

“I’d say it suits you.” He shrugged.

This had been the cycle the entire time. She would ask a question and he would change the subject. She was beyond frustrated because nothing was working.

The room that they were in was stuffy. The air was warm, thick, and it felt like she was breathing soup with every inhale she took. Beads of sweat lined her forehead and dripped down the middle of her back, despite the fact that she had stripped down to a tank and her most comfortable set of pants. 

The room was straight out of a movie. Concrete floors, cinder block walls, and there was hardly any real light coming from the singular LED overhead. Based on how it flickered and flashed, it was clear that it had been quite some time since the bulb had been changed.

There was a singular window that offered observation inside, and it connected the adjacent room. The glass was tinted from the inside, so the eyes that were inside, couldn’t see outside.

Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap had been watching this whole time from the opposite side, and they were growing more discouraged by the minute.

“She’s not getting anywhere, Captain. He’s barely said anything useful.” Ghost remarked, who was saying what everyone else was thinking. 

Price sighed. They could only do this for so long before they would just be wasting precious time on a dead end. Price didn’t want to pull her out because that was giving up in her mind. But he couldn’t stand to watch her keep doing this.

While she was hiding it well, he knew she was as distressed as could be on the inside. He had seen her in her more visible moments of stress and anxiety, and he knew she was close to the beginning of a breakdown. 

“Let’s give her another half hour,” Price advised. “Maybe she can turn this around.”

They were all tired. It had been a long day and now they were already well into an even longer night. They needed as much rest as they could possibly get before coming up with a new plan and starting over. They didn’t have enough time to try and do this again. 

It turned out that Price’s extra thirty minutes had dwindled down to about two minutes.

“This is gonna go a whole lot easier if you just tell me now,” Her voice lowered, her tone smooth and dark. “Where’s the shipment bein’ sent to?” 

Of course, he wasn’t going to answer that. She was mean and she was tough, but he had spent years perfecting keeping his cool under this kind of pressure. 

“That Captain of yours has it bad for you, doesn’t he?”

A thunderclap of dread cracked in Price’s chest and vibrated to the rest of his body. If there was one way to set her off, it was to bring him into it. She didn’t totally lose it right away, but he could tell just by looking at her that she was close by that comment alone.

John knew better than to look at Soap, Ghost or Gaz, but he knew they were watching him like a hawk. They were waiting for a reaction, but they surely weren’t going to get one. 

“Not a word.” Price instructed, still staring ahead through the dirty glass.

They all jumped, quickly looking in different directions as if they hadn’t been waiting for some kind of tell that this guy was getting under his skin.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that Peach and Price had been seeing each other. They weren’t really trying to hide it, but they also weren’t going out of their way to share it publicly. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap were curious, but too afraid to ask. They were entitled to privacy, but it didn’t stop them from being nosy.

“What makes you say that?” She dared to ask through almost bared teeth.

“It’s in his eyes. He doesn’t look at his men the way he looks at you,” He said. “How long has that been going on?”

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” She growled, and her pupils were expanded the way they were every time she was heated. 

This wasn’t going anywhere good. The second she laid hands on him, this entire thing was going to be blown.

“She’s gettin’ angry, Captain.” Soap advised, which was more of a warning than anything.

“Not yet.” Price held up a hand, giving her up until the last possible second to get something. 

She remembered John’s words. It was imperative to find out where the chemical weapon was going. There was no telling what they were planning to do with it and what kind of mass effect it would have. She couldn’t be the one to jeopardize that. She knew that entertaining his nagging questions would only make things worse.

“Where’s the shipment going?” She asked one final time.

He leaned forward as much as the restraints would allow, his words rolling off in his most sinister tone.

“Fuck you.”

Shit.

Price saw the fire explode in her eyes, and he knew to react before she had a chance to.

“Ghost. Get her.” Price ordered immediately.

Ghost was swift on his feet, entering the room and snatching Peach up before she even had a chance to do or say anything else. He hoisted her off the ground, ignoring her wriggling and shrills of protest. A blast of cold air hit her when he carried her back into the next room, which was barely helpful to her boiling blood.

Ghost wrestled to set her back on her feet, but kept a strong arm around her to fight her attempts to get back in the other room. She shrieked and pleaded for Ghost to let her go, and the good Captain only stepped in when Soap and Gaz had to assist Ghost in holding her down.

“That’s enough,” Price barked. “We’re done here.”

She ripped herself from Ghost’s hold at the sound of John’s voice, giving him a look so cold that it sent a shudder down his spine. Her anger was now laser focused on Captain Price, who wasn’t looking forward to the argument that was undoubtedly about to unfold.

“Let me at him, John, he’s gotta give in sometime.” She hissed, strands of her hair sticking to her damp forehead and the back of her neck.

He didn’t want to fight. He hated fighting with her. He especially didn’t want to get into a squabble with her in front of the rest of the team. But right now, he needed to be her captain first. This was her captain speaking, not her lover. 

This was one of those moments where it was unexplainably hard to be both.

He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that she was doing everything that she could. He could praise her for her determination and hard work. At the same time, he couldn’t just sit and watch her work herself to death, especially for no reward. There was much more at stake, and her pride getting a little damaged was better than wasting all of her time trying to crack this nut. 

He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door in case she tried to force her way back inside. 

“You’re done for the night,” John commanded. “You’re not getting anywhere with him.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were standing aside, watching and listening without saying a word. It wasn’t often that Peach and Price got into it like this. But when they did, they knew not to interject or intervene.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” She stood in front of him, her eyes squinted and jaw clenched as her accent drew thicker. 

Fire was burning in her eyes. The outline of the vein in her forehead was showing under her skin as her cheeks grew hotter with each passing second. 

He knew that she would take that the wrong way. He wasn’t insulting her attempt or her work, but she surely took it that way. She was tired from being up so long, irritated by the suspect’s behavior, and disappointed that all of this was for nothing. 

But at the moment, that wasn’t Price’s understanding of the situation. All he knew was that she was angry and questioning his judgment in front of his team, and he had to match her tone. 

“It means that this is a waste of time,” His voice grew louder, cheeks burning red. “We can’t afford any more dead ends.”

“And what do you suppose that I do in the meantime?” She challenged him, something she rarely ever did.

“You need to take a break. Get some rest. We’ll reconvene in the morning,” John barked. “That’s an order.”

She didn’t like that at all. She was determined to keep at this until she physically couldn’t anymore. This was just too important to give up on now. She shook her head in disbelief, a mixture of fury and disappointment causing her to be so vicious. 

She could stand here and argue with him for the rest of the night, but if there was anything that she knew would be a waste of time, it was arguing with John Price. 

“Yes, Captain.” She hissed, those two simple words dripping with venom as she pushed past him. 

He sighed as she stalked out of the room, no doubt going to find the furthest place to get some sleep. Price knew better than that though. She would be up the rest of the night stewing over this, prematurely blaming herself for something that hadn’t happened yet. 

He was already feeling guilty for his reaction. He knew better than to blow up at anyone like that…especially her. He was tired, she was tired, everybody was tired. His emotions in a state of exhaustion and irritability had gotten the best of him.

He knew what he needed to do – cool off and go fix this.

Ghost was the first one to speak up when he realized they really were finished for the night.

“What about him?” Ghost asked, tilting his head to reference the terrorist that was still tied down. 

“Leave him. He’s not going anywhere.” 

That was Price’s way of telling him that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a criminal right now. That was also Price’s way of telling the three of them that they could do whatever they pleased with him at this point. Price didn’t ask any questions about what they intended to do with him. He didn’t need to know, and he trusted that they would leave him intact enough so he would see his day in the clink.

Price had other matters to tend to. A clammed up suspect wasn’t worth his time. Everybody needed to regroup and come up with a new strategy when the new day came around. 

Rest, reconcile, and regroup. That was his to-do list. He emphasized the second one, but cooling off needed to come first.

He left Ghost, Soap, and Gaz to their own devices, trudging off to find a quiet place to collect himself.

***

If there was one place that Price always knew where to look for her, it was the infirmary.

She was the only one of the team that was trained and qualified enough to effectively utilize the space. Most people avoided it, considering the times that they were there were usually because they were injured or coming down with something. Needless to say that, other than her, it wasn’t likely to catch anybody hanging around there for fun.

She excelled there. It was her main place of work and where her skills were most useful and appreciated. She was talented in many other ways, but her medical knowledge was just so precious and priceless. The force could scrape by without having someone who was perfectly trained in combat or computer hacking. But without a medic? Success was highly unlikely.

The infirmary was where she felt the most useful. She felt almost…safe there.

He knew that’s where she would be. She was probably standing at one of the cabinets, taking all of its contents out and organizing them back inside again. 

It was a meaningless task, just something to occupy her hands while her brain circled around itself. She would do this over and over until every corner of every box was flawlessly lined up and every label on every bottle was centered with the front of the cabinet. It was just to distract herself, and an attempt to keep her real feelings at bay. 

Not to mention, she was unbelievably angry with her captain.

John knew that she wasn’t going to be thrilled to see him. He prepared himself for another fight as he navigated his way to the infirmary. She would never yell or scream at him, but her voice always turned ice cold and stern when she was upset. He found that to be worse. He’d rather her scream in his face – that way he’d have no question about how she was feeling.

She also wasn’t one to talk about things right away. She liked time to simmer on it and at least cool off a little before talking it out. He had waited around 45 minutes before seeking her out. 45 minutes was all he could stand. The anxiety and anticipation of knowing she was alone and seething to herself was unbearable for him. 

While he was desperate to get this resolved, he also had to stand firm in his decision to pull her out of the interrogation. It might’ve upset her as his girlfriend, but it was the right move as her captain. He could acknowledge her disapproval while also defending his decision. 

He turned a corner and immediately noticed a glow of light coming from the open doorway of the infirmary. He could feel the energy from here. She certainly wasn’t in the best mood.

Nonetheless, he would rather have a conversation than move on without discussing it. 

Sure enough, there she was – facing the cabinet on the back wall, lining up boxes of gauze pads and organizing bottles of disinfectant. He could practically see the steam hissing out of her ears, like her head would blow off of her shoulders at any moment. 

He leaned against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and his feet crossed over one another. She was oblivious to him standing there, another sign that her focus was elsewhere. He took a calming breath to recenter himself before he made himself known.

“Hey, Peach.” He kept a neutral tone.

Her shoulders squared and straightened at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t expecting to see him again tonight, not after that little fallout they just had. 

Her hands had paused on the box of gauze in her hands, her eyes trained on the print on the cardboard cover. 

“Captain.” She said. 

He ignored the sting in his chest and the annoyance that came from her not using his name. This was one of those times where he was here both as a boss and as a boyfriend. Those moments were pretty rare, and he very much preferred being one or the other. 

“I thought I told you to take a break.” He said coolly, more as small talk than anything. 

“Not tired,” She half-lied. She was tired, but wouldn’t have been able to sleep though. “Where are the boys?”

He couldn’t help but grin to himself. She always referred to Ghost, Soap, and Gaz as “the boys” like they were her kids. It was ironic because she was practically the same age as them, but somehow all of them saw her as motherly at certain times. 

“Soap and Gaz hit the sack,” He said. “I think Ghost is dealing with our perpetrator.” 

Price reached into the inside of his jacket, locating the pack of cigarettes that he stashed there. After today, he needed something to take the edge off. He slid a cigarette from the pack, settling it between his lips while he fished around in his pants pocket for his lighter.

“Guess he was better for the job then?” She grumbled, her back still towards him. “And don’t you dare light that cigarette.”

Price’s thumb had just set on the spark wheel with not even enough time to push it down to ignite the butane inside. She was always on him about his smoking habit. He knew all the health risks and concerns that came from smoking (she had explained them to him many times), but never were they enough to motivate him to kick his habit completely.

Nonetheless, he placed the cigarette back into the pack and stored them with his lighter for safekeeping. 

“It had nothing to do with that. You were just as suited and prepared for it.” He answered.

I guess we’re getting right into it then. He thought to himself.

“Then why’d you pull me out?” She set the box in the cabinet and closed the door.

Her tone wasn’t as firm now, but it still had a certain chill to it. 

“It was all part of his plan. He was going to wear you out until we were out of time.” He remarked.

She shook her head, an incredulous smile spreading across her features. She finally turned to him, her eyes meeting his from across the room. He had calmed down much more than she had, but she didn’t look like she was close to combusting anymore.

“You have absolutely zero faith in me.” She said.

His stance changed, his legs straightening out as he fully entered the room. 

“Come on, Peaches. You know it isn’t that,” He pleaded. “We’re running out of time. I couldn’t risk using it all on a dead end suspect.”

He was closer to her now. He could read her better if he was close. 

“If it had been Soap, you wouldn’t have pulled him out.” She grumbled.

“That’s not true,” He became more determined, but his voice remained normal. “I was looking out for you and for the best interest of this team.”

Her pupils dilated, a quick surge of vexation flashing over her irises. 

“I’m not soft, John. I don’t need you takin’ care of me.” She huffed.

At least we’re back to first names.

“I know that. I’ve never thought of you as anything other than independent and perfectly capable. And I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise,” He defended. “But I’m your captain. It’s my job to keep this team safe and in line. That includes you.”

She almost rolled her eyes. How could he act like she didn’t already know that? She had a response ready, but he went on before she could say it.

“I made a judgment call because I was worried about you, and I saw that what he was doing was sabotaging what we’re trying to do,” He proclaimed. “You have the right to be upset over it, but it was the best call. I would’ve made the same choice no matter what. It just so happened that there was a little more emotion involved.”

It wasn’t always easy being both her captain and her lover. As he had said before, it presented some unique challenges that could only be dealt with as they happened. It was only when the two sides blended that things could get tricky. 

It wasn’t always easy for her either. Over time, she had learned to know when to treat him as a respected captain and when to love up on him as her romantic partner. She just had to understand that there were going to be times where his care for her was going to overlap with how he treated her professionally.

And in all honesty, she knew deep down that he hadn’t dragged her out because he didn’t think she could do it. If he thought that she wasn’t capable, he never would’ve let her do it in the first place. 

“It’s just…” She sighed, a much more serene look glossing over her eyes. “He got the best of me.”

She didn’t lose her temper often. If anything, it was more likely for John to flip his lid. But the stakes were high, the pressure was on, and time was running out…it made sense that an uncooperative criminal pushed her over the edge.

“I know. It’s alright,” He pushed a set of stray hairs from her eyes. “I didn’t want you getting all worked up over it. I need you to have a clear head so we can get this figured out.”

She felt ashamed for lashing out. She was better than losing her composure and confidence over some low life criminal.

She felt remorse for getting in John’s face and nearly cursing him out in front of his team. Her reaction had been uncalled for, and she felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” She apologized, the last of the flames in her eyes smothering out completely.

“Oh, come on now, darling,” He took her chin gently between his thumb and index finger, tilting her head forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to kill him.”

“I would’ve if you had let me.” She gave a small smile.

He chuckled at that, wrapping one of his arms around her waist.

“I know,” He pressed another kiss to her head. “I find the thought of you killing an international terrorist rather sexy.”

“Is that so?” Her smile grew wider. “Only problem with that is I’ll lose my job if I get caught killin’ him without probable cause. And I like my job.”

“You would never get caught,” He scoffed. “You’re stealthy.”

His arm unwrapped from her waist, his hands coming to gently grip her biceps. He kissed her properly then, his facial hair tickling her skin as she hummed into the kiss. All was well between them. This was hardly any real bump in the road for them. A minor hiccup, at most. 

Price could forgive and forget a little outburst on a terrorist. He would be more concerned if she hadn’t cared so much about this mission.

“How about you get some sleep?” He said when she broke the kiss. “We need to get started as soon as the sun comes up.”

Price’s eyes suddenly started scanning the room, as if he were looking for something. 

“Sure. I’ll finish packin’ the cabinet and I’ll hit the hay,” She smirked, following his eyes. “My medic bag is in that closet. Suckers are in the front pocket. I just restocked the cherry ones.”

A grin spread on his face when he dashed towards the closet that she pointed to. He had a theory that she kept lollipops around not only for people after being treated, but also to keep him from smoking so much. It didn’t really work, but he still appreciated the gesture. 

He stuck around until she was finished, escorting her out of the infirmary and to a decent place to get some rest. He made sure she was comfortable before he turned in for the night as well, but not before finishing his candy treat. 

Although, the lollipop was nothing compared to the relief he felt from making things right.

He felt confident that the answers the team was looking for would be found. And her confidence would return when this was all over and dealt with. She would be successful once more.

And he believed that both as her captain and her lover.

[rumor-weed]

JOHN MULANEY STARTER PROMPTS

Kid Gorgeous Edition.

“He was a man most acquainted with misery.”

“None of that matters, but it's important to me that you know that.”

“He did not look like his job description.”

“He looked like he should be the conductor on a locomotive powered by confetti.”

“But, instead, he made his living in murder.”

“He was the weirdest goddamn person I ever saw in my entire life.”

“He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.”

“Shut up! You're all gonna die. Street Smarts!"”

“You remember the scourge of muggings when you were in second and third grade.”

"Man, I need cash for drugs right now.”

“Okay, you can get these at any haberdashery.”

“Buy a money clip. Engraved, question mark?”

“Hey, Dad. Can I have a silver money clip with a $50 bill in it, please?” (Or sub “dad” for character name, if you’re a coward)

“The man with the mustache told me to do it.”

“Let's say a kidnapper throws you in the back of a trunk.”

“You kids have no upper body strength.”

“Yeah, he was not a "spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down" kind of guy.”

“Brush your teeth. Now, boom, orange juice. That's life.”

“Fight the guy off using weird, psych-out, back-room Chicago violence.”

“I chewed up a tab of Alka-Seltzer I carry with me at all times. This created a foaming-at-the-mouth appearance that made it look like I had rabies.”

“Now I've thrown him off his rhythm.”

“Okay. Your odds of coming back alive from the primary location, about 60%. But if you are taken to a secondary location, your odds of coming back alive are slim to none.”

“I am 35 years old and I am still terrified of secondary locations.”

“Nah, sister. You're not getting me to no secondary location.”

“I thought I was going to be murdered my entire childhood.”

“Top three colleges? I thought I would be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”

“I just got a letter from my college, which was fun 'cause mail, you know?”

“So then I had to speed to Goodwill really fast.”

“It was charitable, but it was also fast and violent.”

“I was throwing boxes at people. The boxes were so heavy I couldn't even say what was in them.”

“This one's shirts. I got a bunch of shirts! Take 'em away!"

“How do I write that on my taxes?”

“My mom said it could be a sleep shirt. Please deduct this from my 2017 income.”

“So rather than violate these meaningless politeness rules, I'll just go to bed in a smock like goddamn Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“I'll tremble off to bed in my long Victorian nightgown.”

“Was there ever even a ghost, Mother, or was the dead Victorian girl you saw just me all along?”

“And that's why you shouldn't give to charity.”

“I found out recently that jokes don't do well in court.”

"Hey, that lawsuit with my neighbor is still dragging on.”

“Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you? Because it sounds like he sucks and I will totally kill that guy for you.”

“Okay. See you at improv practice.”

“Strange, the passage of time.”

“I'm not that old. I'm 35, that is not old.”

“I never knew about this, but I am now gross.”

[agustdiv1ne]

✧˖°.10:52 p.m. — choi soobin

genre: fluff, college au, a couple of introverts at a party LOL

wc: 1.2k

soobin isn't particularly fond of parties.

it's something that he’s made abundantly clear — raucous music results in a miserable headache; cramped, sweaty crowds cause his heart to pound and his stomach to twist in the worst way. soobin despises parties, really. his housemate, yeonjun, is more than well aware after soobin yelled at him the first time he threw one of the impromptu variety. the question is: does yeonjun care?

another bass-boosted edm song rattles the entire house. soobin gets his answer.

he drags a pillow over his face with an exasperated groan. there seems to be no sign of this particular party ending any time soon, much to his own displeasure. he purses his lips, sits up, and grabs his phone from the nightstand next to his bed. it looks like he won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

the rest of his room remains relatively dark while he cycles through the myriad of apps on his phone, yet none of them keep his attention for very long. he’s engrossed in a youtube video about some dog when his door swings open with a flourish of light and a wall of sound before promptly slamming shut. heart racing, he watches a complete stranger slide down his bedroom door with their face buried in their hands.

unsure of what to do, he sits frozen on his bed, staring down at your curled up form. he hears an almost inaudible sniffle come from you, a shock of concern shooting down his spine. though his mouth falls agape, he pauses before words can escape.

his eyes widen and his stomach flips when he realizes it's you — not a stranger, but, in soobin's eyes, something much worse: his pathetically long-term, same-major-as-him crush. what's worse: you barely know him, only ever having brief conversations in class if absolutely forced to. you've had more than a few classes together, sitting near each other but never too close. he finds it difficult to strike up conversation with you when you seem just as reserved as him.

despite it all, vines began to curl around his heart, squeezing every time he would see you, or speak a few words to you, even if those words simply pertained to an assignment. even now, those feelings don't seem to want to recede. though quiet, he's found you to be kind, bright, your smile lighting up his heart in a way that he's never felt before. again, he thinks of himself as pitiful, knowing that there is a slim to none chance of you ever getting together due to his own insecurities.

another one of your sniffles, louder now, shakes him from his thoughts. he gulps, steeling himself, and says, “are you okay?”

you flinch, and panic singes his nerves. he doesn’t even realize that you’ve stood up, spouting apologies as your hand shoots for the doorknob. “i didn’t realize i wasn’t alone, i’m s—”

“w-wait!” he interrupts. your movements halt as you stare at him for a second, regarding him with an odd expression painted on your face. a beat of silence passes, two, as you stare at each other. he notices the sheen of tears that line your waterline despite the dimness of the room. it makes you look prettier, somehow — like dewdrops clinging onto spiderwebs.

“really, are you okay?” he tries again, praying that you don’t try to bolt this time. he’s nearly ready to jump out of his own skin when you choke a sob down.

“i…” you trail off for a moment, wringing your fingers. you look around his room, avoiding eye contact now, blinking away the tears. “yeah, um, i guess. just a little overwhelmed right now.”

your face twists in confusion for a moment before you speak again. “you’re…you’re soobin, right?”

jumping at the sound of his name passing your lips, he scrambles to respond as nonchalantly as possible. “yeah! yeah, that’s me. um, we have a class together, right?” 

“a few classes, actually,” you answer a little too quickly, gaze finding the floor. the smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes. you offer him your name, but he replies that he already knows. “well, um, it’s nice to formally meet you, despite the circumstances.”

“same here,” he says, ignoring the frenzied beating of his heart. he never thought this would ever happen — you, standing in his room and actually talking to him. he sees you shuffling back towards the door, and his lips purse for a second. should he?

(you look about ready to say goodbye, but he's not sure when he'll ever be able to talk to you again.

he should.)

“um, if you’d like to chill in here for a bit, feel free. i mean! you don’t have to, but um—”

your giggle has the words fading from his tongue in an instant. "thanks, but i wouldn't wanna intrude."

“you wouldn’t!” he exclaims, cringing at his voice’s volume. “you wouldn’t. you don’t really seem like the rager type.”

“i’m not,” you agree, moving closer to him. he moves to switch a light on, and when he looks back, you stand at the foot of his bed, front teeth worrying your bottom lip. “you mind if i, um, sit on your bed?”

“not at all,” he says, but he does, he so does. he thinks that he might just pass out at this rate, but as you begin talking — everything from classes and favorite colors to what you dream about for your futures, you moving closer until your sitting knee-to-knee — he somehow begins to relax.

you lean closer in a moment of boldness, asking if he'd like to hang out sometime, just the two of you. he finds himself admiring your lips, the urge to kiss you unable to win over his logical mind. he wants to take things slow with you, find out all of your little quirks, your likes and dislikes, the way you like your coffee, if you even like coffee. he wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, you like him back when you grin at his acceptance.

the mirage of peace is broken by a ding! from your phone, your friend telling you that she's ready to go and where the hell are you? you literally disappeared. you sigh, apologizing, as you rise from his comforter. he stands up to walk you out, and you turn around as you exit his room, him leaning against the doorframe.

“if you ever come to another of yeonjun’s parties, you know where to find me,” soobin jokes, causing you to smile. you tell him you would, and that you’re looking forward to your classes together on monday. you leave with a gentle squeeze of your hand entangled in his and a demure smile, and he watches you disappear down the stairs before his door clicks shut.

collapsing back onto his bed, soobin decides that he may dislike parties, but he thinks that he may be able to bear them if you're there, too.

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[theflyindutchwoman]

I don't need you protecting me. I know. So clearly what you're saying is you need me protecting you. Clearly. You know me so well. I'm happy it's you at my six. Back at you. […] Go. Up, up, up! I'll hold 'em off. What? No. We have the higher ground. We stand a chance, but only together. Okay. We hurt as many as we can, retreat up the stairs. Okay, but they're gonna expect us to push. Let's go the other way. Pull not push--copy that.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.22 - Under Siege

Battle Couple… This is one of my favourite trope ever… And these two embody that so well. The way this scene starts softly, with their banter, is very interesting… It could have come off as a tad tone deaf, with Aaron still in a coma. But they make it work. They're not downplaying anything, they're simply trying to get a moment of respite… and being together make that easier. It's the fact that they are bickering on who needs protecting… It's so them. And that 'you know me so well' parallel, with Tim being the one to say these words this time…. And this scene does have some eerie Day of Death vibe, so combined with all the reminders of Jackson's death, it's no wonder he doesn't want her out of his sight. Lucy's little confession that she's happy he's the one having her back also serves to underline that, for all the banter, she does appreciate that he is there with her. His 'back at you', while watching her six, literally… Sir, you are working! Remember when the first punishment for failing one of his Tim Test was to make Lucy fight so he could see her in action? Fast forward to now and not only is he happy she is the one having his back, he also wouldn't have it any other way. His pride in her is still the same : it's just that now, he can overtly check her out and flirt with her on top of it. And let's not forget how Grey didn't object when Tim volunteered to go check this place with Lucy. The amount of faith he has in both of them, that their relationship is not going to interfere with their work, is amazing. In a way, it makes sense : he had front row seats to the development of their relationship, so he knows. And I love how they find ways to be paired up together because they work so well together.

Something that is particularly highlighted during that fight sequence. And let's start with the fact that Tim's first instinct is to tell Lucy to go to safety while he holds the assailants off, knowing full well that his odds of escaping unscathed in that scenario are slim to none… He is seriously ready to sacrifice himself just so she can have a better chance to get out - which isn't even a guarantee… His love for her… And her immediate rebuttal… of course, she isn't about to leave him behind. That's not who she is. And I really appreciate how he doesn't waste time protesting when she refuses. That's the thing I love the most about his protectiveness. It's fierce, but it's never used as a way to undermine Lucy's abilities. It's all about him loving her and wanting her safe. It's all about how much she means to him. But he never tries to stop her either when she disagrees : he respects her way too much for that. He gives her an out and if she doesn't want to take it, then he'll simply be at her side, backing her up. Like on the plane during their undercover mission, when she refused to back down. And that protectiveness goes both ways. Lucy is just as fierce. She was protecting him in so many different ways, right from the start : from himself, covering for him several times, standing up to superior officer's to defend him… And here as well, during the fight : there are several moments when she helps him get the upper hand on his assailants. They both do : when one of them is in trouble, the other is not far behind. They both protect each other and that's the real beauty of their relationship.

And that fight sequence… My only gripe is how they kept shooting in the riot shields, knowing how ineffective it would be. Otherwise, it was everything I didn't know I wanted and then some. It's the way Lucy is the one coming up with the strategies and Tim follows her… It's all these little callbacks to their old battles that make this one even better, like that time she was fighting with the sticks in A.C.H. or when he was using his pepper spray like she did in Standoff… It's how several times Tim leads her by the arm or the vest to get on higher grounds… How he grabs her after she was being strangled… There's something in the way he is holding her, as if he's trying to support her and shield her with his body, while guiding them to safety that is doing things to me… That and the parallel with the Pilot, when Lucy was the one having to guide him to safety after he got shot… And how he was caught completely off-guard by Nolan. There's this split second where they don't know whether it's another wave of masked guys or not. But in that moment, Tim is unprepared. Remember when he blew a gasket when Lucy was holding something in her gun hand in The Q Word? Well, this time, he's the one who makes that mistake : getting her to safety is so much more important that it overrides his training. And the way she instantly raises her weapon, ready to protect them both, while still trying to catch her breath after being strangled… And even once they make it to safety, Tim keeps his hand on her thigh because he needs the reassurance as much as he needs to reassure her… And Lucy who looks like she's about to grab his hand before remembering where they are, looking around everywhere to make sure that they are truly safe… Still in a fight or flight mode, ready to protect them again… God, these two…. Couples that fight together stay together.

[isthedogawolfdog]

I just saw a reel on Instagram, which I absolutely refuse to link because I don’t want to give it more views so I attached a recording of some of the more relevant parts above, but basically this woman (who I assume was a photographer due to the cameras and such) was in the middle of the Arctic doing who knows what. She starts off the video saying something “incredible” happened, and the footage then cuts to her being surrounded by roughly 13 wild wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Due to the poor quality that is my recording, I’ll try and break down what’s happening to the best of my ability.

Throughout the video you can see that the wolves seem not quite quite laid back, but aren’t scared. The wolf closest to the camera at roughly seven seconds in is regarding them with a look that kinda says “hey, what’s this?”.* All the wolves are either walking along on their path, or taking a closer look, not necessarily circling the two individuals but definitely keeping an eye on them. This is probably due to them not seeing people at all prior to this experience. Now, I know that might sound odd, but some areas in the Arctic or places super far north in general have wolves that just haven’t seen people. There was a documentary (which I forget the name of) that covered researchers interacting with a pack who hadn’t seen people. There was also a book (Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat) published a while ago that dealt with a pack similarly. When described, the behavior in both the book and documentary kinda reminds me of the wolves in this video.

A quick look at the animals tells me these people aren’t in any real danger, however, should the wolves get more curious and get closer things could probably get a bit tricky. Wolves being naturally neophobic, attacks on humans from healthy wild wolves are slim to none these days. Plus, you really shouldn’t interact with wild animals no matter what they’re acting like. Preferably these people would’ve tried scaring them away the second they saw them approaching (acting aggressive, maintaining eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t run!), but instead, we had to have a Disney princess moment.

In the extremely rare chance that the wolves had seen these people as food, we would be seeing more quicker movement, heads below their shoulders**, various behaviors to test and see whether the people were fit enough for a snack, etc. though this is not the case here. So why, might you be wondering, is this bad if the wolves aren’t hunting the people and the people aren’t interacting with the wolves?

Well, you should never, never, interact with wild animals like this, which if you’ve been following my blog for a while now you probably already know. These wolves, if they so happen to see people again, now associate people with something they can get close to without them getting hurt, which works great if you want a cool selfie, but isn’t good if you are a park ranger, a worried parent, or any other person in a position of authority really, let alone if you have a gun. Historically, if a wild animal (especially a wolf!) gets too close to people, they get shot. It doesn’t matter if the animal was exhibiting dangerous behavior or not, people can’t risk it. Basically, wolf getting closer to people and realizing they can do it without problems = them trying again at a time where things are different and people think “oh no, big and wolf!” and kill it.

I’m not sure how the encounter ended, but later footage shows the wolves farther away rallying as a group, so I assume everything went okayish despite the obvious errors. TL:DR, these people are endangering these animals with their need for a cool video, don’t be a Disney princess, and stay away from wild animals even if they look friendly.

*the wolf closest to the camera has its ears kinda flat and to the side, this is called airplane ears by some biologists (yes seriously) and it is a sign of uncertainty.

**fun fact: theories vary, but some have guessed that prey animals can tell whether a wolf is hunting from whether or not their heads are below their shoulders or not! This would explain why we see videos of wolves calmly walking passed a herd of elk while they stay rested, and why other times the elk will bolt as soon as they see the predator.