#he will blow a grenade in your face

[shininas-ideals]

I spy with my little eye... A KUNIKIDA PFP

I mean-

Have you SEEN this man?

How can I NOT want THIS face in my blog always?

[irisintheafterglow]

Can I request a racer!bakugo showing off his two most precious things after winning a big race, the trophy and his girl pleaseee?

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE LOVE LOVE <33 also i can't find it but this is definitely inspired by that one bakugo fic where he's doing a vogue interview about the things he can't leave the house or live without (if anyone knows the link for it please please let me know because it's one of my all-time favorites)

"oh, look! it's bakugo! hey, man!"

"the hell are you doing outside my house?" the interviewer laughs nervously behind the camera, but your boyfriend's scowl doesn't move. it's a wonder that he's still viewed positively in the public eye despite his brash personality. you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers and avert your eyes from the second-floor window, sending another prayer begging for him to behave. the interview took place in his own home, for crying out loud. shouldn't he be the most comfortable in his safest space?

the answer is, unfortunately, no.

"i'm uh, here for your '73 questions' interview with vogue. d'you mind if i step inside with you?" he grunts reluctantly in response, swinging the front door open unceremoniously. you pity the poor guy who had to follow your husband around and chuck questions at him like armed grenades; there was always a chance that he would blow up. "so, where were you coming from?"

"grocery store. you want a drink?" good. at least he remembers his manners. "we got water, juice...i ain't giving you alcohol. i don't even know who the hell you are." never mind.

you spend the next 12-something minutes following their one-sided conversation around the house, careful to stay out of sight and silently begging your boyfriend to at least act a little warmer. the only time he does open up, much to the delight of fans, is when he's talking about you.

"'the things most precious to me?' i don't fuckin' know," you can hear him say plainly. you'd resigned to your shared bedroom to finish up some work when you heard the telltale calls of babe, c'mere! babe. babe. babe! from downstairs. with a huff, you set down your pen and make your way into the living room, where you see him holding his latest first-place trophy. it shines under the afternoon sun coming through the backyard windows. the camera pans to you in surprise and you thank your earlier self for wearing something other than pajamas.

"babe, c'mere," he insists and you roll your eyes in exasperation. his arm slips around your waist and you're suddenly hyperaware of the camera that's going to post your image to millions of people. "alright, nerd, you asked me what i wanna show off? they're right here," he boasts proudly and your face starts to heat up. "got my badass lover, my big-ass trophy, and i don't need anything else," he says with unexpected tenderness. "you got that?"

"y-yeah, i got it," the interviewer stutters out. "uh, thank you-"

"the hell do you look so nervous for? i don't fuckin' bite," he says and the man stammers again. "i don't know why i bother doing all this shit," he murmurs in your ear.

"this is why outlets are so scared to interview you, kats," you whisper and he shrugs indifferently. "you scare reporters too easily."

"don't care. i just wanna relax and spend my day off with you. i'm too tired to be dealing with this shit," he grumbles and you laugh under your breath. "baby?"

"hmm?"

"can you do me a big favor?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously while the cameraman fumbles about with his equipment, packing up to leave.

"depends on the favor," you say carefully. "will i need to compromise my morals?" your boyfriend barks out a laugh, and the reporter startles.

"no, no. nothing like that," he reassures you and drops his volume so that only you can hear him. "baby, sweetheart, love of my life?"

"yes, katsuki?"

"please get this man the fuck out of our house."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[shadow4-1]

Hi! Idk if you take requests, but if you do I was wondering if I could request a 141 x reader where they're on a mission and at some point a grenade gets thrown at them and they don't have enough time to run away so reader pulls a Steve Rogers and throws herself onto it to prevent the damage done to the rest of the squad? If not that's totally fine too, ik it's kinda sad lol. Btw I love your writing it's super good, especially the 141 x shy reader. 💕

I like this idea! It's very heroic and a lil' sad. And, to be quite frank, would've been a much more heroic way for Soap to have gone out in MW3! Here's my take on this prompt:

Shit. Shit. Shit.

How the hell are you going to do this?

Gaz is alive but unconscious, Ghost is on his knees, and Soap is face down in a pool of subway grit. You can't hear, you know your eardrums are blown out from the blast. Price dashed off after Makarov.

On shaky ankles you step around the bodies of friend and foe alike. You can feel the atmosphere bend with the whiz of bullets but you can't hear them shattering the checkerboard tile.

You manage to get over Soap first. He's breathing. He's really fucking heavy too, all dead weight and limp. With all of your adrenaline strength you manage to brute force him over onto his back. He's got some shrapnel in his jaw and littered all over his kit, but nothing too visibly deep.

There's a hand on your shoulder. It's so heavy it nearly brings you down to the floor. You scream, but you can't hear it, only feel the vibration in your chest.

It's Ghost. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, and completely crazed. You can't tell if he's talking because of his mask. He's still on his knees, and his body dips to the side before he rights himself with a jerk. You know your Lt. well enough to know something is seriously wrong with him, but he's conscious, and therefore not your top priority.

Gaz is.

You glance over at your other team member. He's slouched over against a pillar. He's barely awake with eyes rolling and lips bloody. You make a mad dash over to him. You trust Ghost will take care of Soap to at least get him to safety.

You feel more bullets bending around you but it doesn't matter. You're probably hit already and you just can't feel it. Your boots lose purchase in some grime and you slip. You crawl the last few feet to Gaz. He doesn't see you or focus on you even as you fill up his vision.

You try to mutter something to him but you can't hear it and you doubt he can either.

The entire subway platform vibrates. You can feel the rattling of a train whoosh by behind you. You really hope Price caught Makarov. Just as the train passes you by you feel another explosion. Hot air blows down the tunnel followed by a red glint.

Oh no.

You wrap your arms tight around Gaz's neck and pull him down to the floor. He coughs up blood tinged saliva onto your vest. You tuck your body around him, cradling his head against your chest. You realize he's missing his hat as you press your face against the crown of his head. One of his hands weakly grabs at the side clasp of your vest.

For that last moment before disaster strikes, you desperately hope he has no idea what's going on.

[lorasdolly]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐍' 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴅᴏʟʟʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ; ɪɴ ᴢᴀᴜɴ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴀᴠᴇꜱ ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍʙᴜꜱʜ ᴜꜱɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ꜱᴄʏᴛʜᴇ. ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ, ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀ, ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ—ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ—ɪɴ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ʟᴇꜱʙɪᴀɴ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ʀ!ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ꜱᴜʙꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ��ꜱᴇ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ.

(more of dolly!reader :3) not proof read :c

you grabbed your stuff, throwing a few things into a small pink bag. it was rather late, you were supposed to meet up with sevika ages ago, and yet here you were still packing things up.

it was dark and eery in your room, like it usually was.

bombs disguised as uncanny dolls and the scent of all sorts of bodily fluids flooding the place.

as you went to tie your shoes, the loud noise of destruction sounded. a thud across the building, usually never a sign of good news.

you squealed and jumped off the bed, a loud sigh exiting your mouth.

pursing your lips, you hesitated on whether to check it out or not. truly it was none of your business.

but the fleeting concern of it perhaps being sevika entered your mind, making you grab two doll shaped grenades are your tiny scythe.

leaving the rest of the bag behind, you hurried outside the apartment, the horrible scent of zaun flushing in.

while you ran towards the continuous stream of noise, pink dust came from the doll in your hand.

"awh shit," you whined, huffing a bit as you kept running.

they were fragile, delicate and to be treated with care. you designed them that way to ensure not even the make belief girls got neglected before explosion.

but the pep in your step must have ruined something in them, causing the timer to set off.

your pace increased, reaching the railing and stairs where you see sevika getting ambushed by multiple people.

since silco died, the people who respected her decreased.

you told her you'd made sure they remembered who kept them in check, and maybe just now was the right time to show it.

your breathing was uneven, deciding between running down the stairs to have close combat or throwing the soon-to-explode time bomb in your hand.

as the pink dust grew more consistent and the blood coming from sevika began to seep, you mindlessly threw the doll shaped bomb into the fight.

it caused an explosion between sevika and those who were attacking her, pink fire lighting up the trash around them.

a pout graced your face as you saw the doll blow to ashes but you snapped back, jumping down from the railing to vacantly swing your scythe around.

sevika's eyes widened, a low groan leaving her lips as she backed up to not get injured any further.

she watched as you had that little concentrated look on your face, your tongue slightly sticking out.

she let out a dark chuckle, fixing some shimmer into her arm as you kept fighting off the group of men who attempted to hurt sevika.

you pushed a man into the bundle of pink fire behind him, smirking and giggling with the cute scythe in your hand.

you grabbed the other doll-like bomb, setting it off right beneath the man, flinching as it went off.

you thought that was about it, all the men were gone.

you stood there panting, wiping blood away from your lips from the few hits you took.

the scent of metal mixed with sweat took over your nostrils, blood overwhelming your taste buds too.

you hated messes, especially when the messes were on you.

a groan left your lips, the sight of a dead man's half-burned corpse residing in front of you infuriated you more.

right when you were about to turn around to seek out sevika, another man came up behind you, ready to attack.

he was able to push you back a bit, but didn't have the time to do more when sevika ran towards the both of you.

her mechanical fist that was just enhanced by shimmer instantly made contact with the man's face, his body going numb and slamming against the closest wall.

you yelp at the sudden scare, pouting at the fact you didn't get the last hit. "totally not fair!" you complained and whined, hands finding your hips.

sevika was about to speak again, staring your bloody but somehow cute figure up and down when she saw the man who was supposed to be dead show up behind you.

your peripheral vision caught on, huffing and turning around fully to swing your scythe.

your scythe burned through the man's neck, blood splattering on your face and hair.

"eugh- gross!" you exclaimed the moment he fell at your feet.

"not interested," your shoe met his head, kicking it away.

finally, your gaze was able to peacefully meet sevika's. a small smirk painted her features.

"since when are you a fighting doll," she teased, hand running through her hand as she stood up straight.

"i knew you were a stupid doll, and surely a good doll, but fighting? color me suprised." she continued throwing mocking taunts towards you, walking to tower over you.

"hey! i saved your ass, expecting some gratitude any time soon." you said with a petulant expression on your face.

"language, doll." sevika said with a lifted brow.

her hand grabbed your chin forcefully, constraining you to look up at her. "awfully mouthy for such a small doll."

you stayed silent, embracing the small moment of her dominance. even after a violent moment, she knew how to revert you back to normal.

pliant and a mindless mess.

"mind telling me where'd you find that sharp weapon?" sevika continued, her lips on a flat line.

"jinx got it for me.." your bottom lip extended outward and she brushed her thumb over it.

"now look at you, a bloody mess, doll." she said with a certain edge of approval.

"but i helped you-" you hurried to the defensive, wanting sevika to understand why you did that.

"that you did." sevika's thumb removed blood from your face, or smudging it if anything.

your face lightened up, realizing she wasn't disappointed but infact proud.

you've gotten many reactions from sevika, but very rarely has she been proud.

"i even got all dirty for you.." you said with a sulky glint in your eyes.

"that too, doll." she acknowledged, her mechanical hand grazing over the soft supple skin of your hips and waist.

"i deserve something in return for being so good!" you kept rambling, furrowed brows as you made suggestions.

she chuckled, not fully paying attention to your words but instead focusing on how you look right:

"gettin' ahead of yourself, huh? who said you're in a spot to make demands?" she teased, desperate to see your reaction.

your confident look reverted into a sad puppy, needing reassurance. "not demands, just.. suggestions."

she nodded, finally focusing her gaze on your eyes instead of letting them wander. "good, good."

sevika cancelled her plans of going to the last drop and gambling a few pretty pennies away, instead choosing a pretty doll to entertain her.

she laid you on her bed instead of yours, knowing you hated getting your room messy.

but also because those dolls of yours secretly made her uneasy.

she begun kissing down your neck, licking any blood residue off of you. "poor doll, got all fuckin' dirty f'me." she spoke, muffled words against your neck.

both her real and mechanical hand studied your curves, relishing the moment with a sense of reverence.

she was taunting your tendency of hating dirt, but you were too pleased to notice any of the little details.

"whatdya' need, doll. use your words." sevika reached your belly button with her lips, tracing hearts with her tongue.

"y-you, sevika, please" the desperation in your words seeped through, your hands tangling in her hair as she toyed with the hem of your panties.

slowly lifting them and then releasing them so they'd snap back against your pelvis.

"i need your mouth, sevika." you said, struggling to even form coherent thoughts let alone sentences.

she chuckled against your hips, sliding down your panties. "lift your hips f'me, doll."

you did as asked, arching your back and lifting your hips.

you squirmed the moment the cold breeze hit your core, whining in need.

she put testing kisses on your pussy, then a teasingly slow stripe against your folds.

"shiiit- shit, sevika," your words were breathy, your hands tugging at her hair.

"mind your words, doll." she spoke firmly, finally latching onto your clit with hunger.

"oh- oh my god, fuck-" you whimpered, disregarding her previous orders.

she brought her mechanical arm to hold you down, stopping your squirming as she ate you like a starved woman.

"putting your life at risk f'me, thank you baby, mmff fuck," she spoke against your core, the vibrations being sent down your spine and straight to your clit.

"sevika- sevika please, so close-" you whine, head thrown back against the mattress.

"cum f'me, doll," she said, lapping at your cunt. her hips bucked against the mattress, need overwhelming her too.

but tonight was about you, she'd make sure of that.

you came undone all over her tongue as she made sure to swallow every drop.

you panted, staring down at her bigger frame and the way she rutted her hips against the mattress.

she pulled away, quick to lather your neck in kisses again before landing on your lips.

she kissed you tenderly with a tone of passion she couldn't avoid.

"se..sevika." you spoke at a breath.

"shh, rest." she got up, standing on her two feet before throwing a blanket on top of you.

her hands rummaged the drawer besides her bed for a cigarillo and lighter. as she grabbed them, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed.

she took a long drag and shifted her head away to not locate the smoke against your face.

you crawled silently towards her, the blanket still draped over your back. you reach for her bicep, needing warmth.

she looked down at you and went back towards her drawer, taking out a small pill that was the color pink.

she brought it towards your lips, immediately your lips parted and tongue sticked out.

she placed it on the small of your tongue as you retreated it back inside your mouth, letting it dissolve.

you shut your eyes and melt away, still grasping at her bicep.

"i'll get ya' a towel." she spoke quietly before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

[sh4dys]

Ivy » Matt Sturniolo

summary: he didn’t realize you felt the same way, and couldn’t believe it when he heard you say it.

warnings: gn!reader, no use if y/n

A/N: i love lover boy matt , can you tell?

You and Matt were always close, mostly through Nick being your best friend. Matt had a thing for you, it was somewhat obvious. Anytime he saw you he’d feel his heart start racing, his palms would get sweaty, and he’d start trying to impress you however he could.

In high-school he’d invite you to any and all of his lacrosse games and practices, pointing you out on the bleachers if you actually showed up. He’d give you his old jerseys to wear, scooping you up in his arms after a game, and saying how happy he was to see you.

During prom season he gathered up a few of his friends and his brothers to help ask you to go with him, doing it after a lacrosse game where everyone could see. He was over the moon when you said yes, even though you both agreed you were going as just friends.

After graduation he’d invite you back to his house a lot more often, most of the time driving to yours to pick you up. He’d take you to get food or cook something for you, put on one of your favorite movies, and cuddle with you on the couch. When/if you fell asleep he’d stay still so he wouldn’t wake you, even if he was in pain.

It became painfully obvious that he was in love with you, but the title of just friends hung over your heads like a grenade, ready to blow up everything if it dropped.

You on the other hand weren’t as obvious about it, keeping on the down low and being more subtle about your feelings.

On his birthday you’d of course get his brothers something, but you’d go out of your way to take him out somewhere. Whether it was the movies, a store he liked, or a restaurant. Your always spoil him as much as you could.

When he had a part time job that he’d go to after lacrosse practice, you’d show up and eat lunch with him. You’d bring his favorite every turn, occasionally throwing in some sweets for him as well.

Whenever you’d go over you’d purposely fall asleep, trying to make sure you were in the most comfortable position for him. You’d ask if you two could just lay down sometimes or just go into his room, and thankfully he would agree, giving you full access to simply lay on his chest with your arms around him.

Somehow he didn’t realize your feelings, even if you were trying to make them more obvious over the years.

Today was one of those days, you were all over him. You were holding his hand while out shopping, leaning on his shoulder when you two sat down, you even sat on his lap when you and his brothers got back to the house.

You were somewhat annoyed that he hadn’t realized. He could tell you were upset about something, but didn’t know how to ask. Eventually pulling you aside into his room.

“What’s up with you today? You’ve been so clingy and now you’re, like, mad at me.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you with a confused and frustrated expression.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re oblivious.” You mumbled under your breath, earning a scoff from him. “What do you mean? It’s not like you’re trying to tell me something.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, looking at him with a subtle scowl. “Jeez, I don’t know Matt. Maybe I’ve just been trying to hint to the fact I’m in love with you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, hands at your sides as you waited for him to say something—anything.

His face dropped at your words. Love? You were in love with him? His jaw was practically on the floor, staring at you with disbelief. You could feel your stomach churn as you waited for him to say something, only to feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” He mumbled against your neck, holding you close to him as he smiled against your skin. You slowly wrapped your arms around him as well, leaning your head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

“I love you too, y’know. I think it was kind of obvious though.” You chuckled slightly at his words, looking at him with a raised brow. “Kind of? Please, it was extremely obvious.”

He rolled his eyes and kissed your head, smiling down at you. “Do you actually mean it?” He spoke softly, brows knitted together as he pressed his lips together.

“Yes, I mean it. I love you.” You spoke reassuringly, placing a hand on the side of his face.

“I better not be dreaming right now.” He chuckled softly, leaning down and connected your lips to his slowly, his hands holding your sides as he kept you close to him.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Consorts [Part 3]

The Ghoul|Cooper Howard x F!Bounty Hunter!Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // <- -> // Part 4 // Part 5 //

Summary: The Reader and Cooper continue on their travels before running into some of the men hunting them down. One of them get hurt and they must retreat.

a/n: apologies in advance for this leaving on a slutty cliff hanger lmao

~~~

Cooper stood before you. Dapper in his attire, cleaned up in a suit and tie. His face was the same, but he bared a bright white smile. You were dressed in a vintage housewife dress, your hair fixed in an updo. It felt like a scene from one of those old black and white shows you used to watch.

He took one of your hands in his, the other going to the small of your back. He dipped you before beginning a ballroom-esc dance. Twirling you around, your dress dancing along.

"You look gorgeous," his twang falling off his tongue. You giggled at him. "My gorgeous wife," he kissed your collar.

"I love you, Cooper," your eyes stared into his. His grin painted his whole face, he leaned in for a kiss, "I lov-"

Your body jerked you awake.

You sat up quickly, looking around. Cooper was standing a few meters off hunched over something it looked like he was eating. You did not want to bother him knowing he was most likely feasting on something that would turn your stomach. Adjusting your clothes, putting your jacket back on as you stood up. You rolled your neck, stretching your shoulders and legs.

Cooper looked over his shoulder seeing you had finally woke up. He finished his mess then headed over to you. "'Bout time you got up," he strutted over to you. You gave him a halfway side-eye, how unamused you were written on your face.

"We've got a hell-of-a-lot more walking to do," he took a hit of his meds, "Hope you're ready, doll."

You nodded.

The two of you began walking. Sand and debris was the only thing you saw for hours. Mostly silence between the two of you made the travel all that more tiring.

You heard a strange sound in the distance. Cooper was humming some tune a few steps ahead of you.

"Do you hear that?" You questioned him.

He stopped in his tracks, stopping his whistling. It sounded like... footsteps charging in the sand.

Cooper looked around, seeing some blobs heading directly at you two. "Oh for fuck's sake," he grabbed his guns. You looked where he was, seeing the men charging you. All of them fully armed. You groaned, throwing your head back and grabbing your gun.

Cooper began firing at them, sweeping past one of their legs. Causing him to trip and the rest of the group to freak out. Muffled angry sounds came from them. Bullets started flying towards you and Cooper. Both of you pretty much unprotected, but confident in how bad of a shot those men were.

As they centered in on you, they began separating. You grabbed one of the grenades off your belt, pulling the pin and throwing it into the feet of the group approaching you. It sent them flying, blowing one of their legs off.

Cooper chuckled seeing their bodies go flying. He fired both guns, hitting man after man. They stumbled as he hit their legs and arms. They shot back smaller weapons until you saw one of them pullout a real gun. Not some tiny thing, something that would hurt.

Bang.

A bullet fired directly toward you.

Cold.

A cold pain shot down your arm. Like your body was in shock at the wound. Right through your shoulder. Your hand instinctively covered it, you pulled your hand away.

Blood.

Dark red, almost brown.

"Fuck," you exclaimed breathlessly. You stumbled a little to the ground, pain flushing your whole body. Cooper looked to you, his eyes widening seeing the red painting your shoulder. His jaw hung open, a glimmer of concern painted his expression seeing you hurt.

"Fuckers," Cooper began firing his guns rapidly at the men in front of him, each bullet piercing them multiple times. His demeanor changed, like he was angrier than ever before. You watched as all the men who had been chasing you flew to the ground. The desert sands painted red with their blood. A dozen corpses laid before you. Once every single one of them was good and dead, Cooper turned around to face you.

"Can you walk, sweetheart?" He kneeled in front of you, looking in your eyes to read whether or not you'd lie about how you were feeling.

You nodded, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

"There's a settlement a few paces up from here. Make it there and you can rest for the night," he looked over his shoulder almost double checking that they were all dead.

You could not deny the slight embarrassment that formed in the pit of your stomach. You were supposed to be a strong bounty hunter and here you are kneeling on the ground with a bullet shot through your shoulder. Worse, your number one competition was the one who had to save you.

Cooper walked over to one of the corpses, ripping the skin and taking a bite. You stared mindlessly. Moments like this reminded you how bad things really were here. Your road companion could not survive without having to eat someone else.

You knew if he ever had to, he would do that to you.

You shook that thought off.

He walked back over to you, bending down to help you up. He was being so gentle with you. You winced slightly causing him to slow down helping you. Your arm was limp at your side as you stood. You rolled your neck, squinting your eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart." He walked with you. The whole way keeping pace with you, shooting a glance at you every time you made a slightly off noise. You eventually came upon the settlement he had spoke of, only it was completely empty. Only decaying bodies of people remained.

"Guess we got the whole place to ourselves," Cooper's hands went on his hips. He led you into what looked like an old house. Shooting his gun into the ceiling to make sure no one remained. No response.

Cooper helped you into an abandoned room. Dark other than a slight glow coming in through a single window in the room. An older mattress and a nightstand were the only things in the room. Once you got sat, Cooper went looking through the house for a form of something to mend your wound. You could hear his heavy boots throughout the entire house.

"I need to bandage you up," he spoke across the room. You looked at him. Hesitantly, you took your jacket off laying it on the mattress behind you. You unbuttoned the shirt underneath, leaving you in an exposed white tank-top. Stained around the shoulder with your deep red blood. He joined you, standing at the edge of where you sat. He wetted a piece of cloth, dabbing your wound. You gritted your teeth.

"Clean through you," he mumbled.

You watched as he gently cleaned your wound the best he could. You found yourself admiring how he was treating you. He was brash and coarse most moments, but right now he felt soft. Like he was worried about you.

His eyes looked up yours before directing back to your shoulder. For the moment your eyes met, it felt like everything slowed down. Like he was truly taking care of you. Eyes checking to make sure he was not hurting you.

He wrapped a dry piece of the same cloth around your wound, gently lifting your arm to make sure it was on properly.

"Thank you, Cooper," you breathed out. His eyes shot up at your face. Jaw slightly hanging open like he wanted to say something he could not. Slightly hooded eyes stared into yours. He lifted his hand from your shoulder as if he was going to caress your face, before swiftly putting it back down, "Have to make sure you're able to fire tomorrow." He turned his head. A small smile creeped on your face as you looked at him.

Cooper swallowed and cleared his throat. He stood up suddenly, his back to you. "Get some rest," he mumbled through his hand.

"What are you going to do?" You asked as you scooted back onto the mattress. You laid back, stretching your body out.

"I-" he looked over his shoulder at you. He could swear his cock jumped in his pants. Your body on display, skin-tight shirt showing off your breasts, unbuttoned pants showing your pantyline, your hair disheveled, sweat decorating every inch of your exposed skin. He took a deep breath, composing himself. "I'm going to keep watch," he spoke monotonous.

"You could try and get a little rest yourself," you grumbled, "We have a pretty big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Doesn't matter," he spoke stern, "Can't trust anyone, anywhere." You huffed at him. You rested your eyes, not quite ready to go to sleep. Your shoulder ached, pulsing under your skin. Silence filled the room around you. Your mind wondered to who Cooper was before the war. You knew he had been around longer than most people. Maybe he did not even remember who he was. You wondered if he had a family. If he had any hobbies. What his favorite drink was. You wondered what made him him.

Time passed. Your mind wandered imaging Cooper with hair. The image of him from your dream stuck with you. You bet he was charismatic. Somehow your body was still fighting sleep. Maybe it was the adrenaline from getting shot.

"No one's coming, Coop," you sighed, throwing your legs over the side of the bed.

"Why the hell are you getting up," he walked over to be standing in front of you. "I'm grown," you scoffed.

"Yes, I know that," he rolled his eyes, "I just want you to rest. I don't wanna hear you bitching tomorrow about how bad your shoulder hurts when you won't even lay down for a few hours."

Your head fell forward, eyes in your lap. Cooper stood in the same spot, waiting for you to lay back down.

Doe eyes stared up at him now. The slight light coming through the window illuminated half his face. You watched as his tongue wetted his dry lips. Hooded eyes stared down at you. Warmth washed over your body as you stared at him. "Don't give me those sad eyes," tilting his head. Neither of you were backing down. Both refusing to give into the other.

"What do I gotta do to get you to lay down?" Cooper blew his breath out. You thought of a hundred things you could say to him, ranging from snarky to sexy.

"Sit here and talk to me," you whispered. Cooper's expression softened. Something neither of you had done since reuniting: talked. You went straight into the mission back on the run. You had learned his name, but other than that there was nothing else but minor arguments and groans of disdain.

He clamped his teeth together, looking towards the window. He gestured at you to scoot down on the mattress, "This is stupid." Normally that would have angered you, but in this moment you could not help but smile at him. He was slightly slouched, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Why didn't you turn me in to those guys?" you questioned looking at his hands. You caught him off guard. He stammered slightly, "I-I... You're more important for me to keep you. Besides they would have just came back for me."

Important to him...

You nodded at his response. Thinking it over.

"What did you used to look like?" you smirked at him. If looks could kill, you would be dead. His head sped around to look at your face. He exhaled a slight chuckle. He licked his lips, smiling slightly like the memories made him happy. "Handsome," he grinned for a moment. "Oh?" you laughed out. "Handsomer than any boy you've seen in the Wastelands, that's for sure. 'Kind of handsome that you'd see in the movies," he sat up straight looking at you. You giggled at him. He framed his face with his gloved hands, "Can't you see this on the big screen?" He faked a toothy smile at you.

For a moment you both felt human. Like the world was good.

You had never seen him smile as much as he did right now. Maybe you were both getting comfortable again. Sometimes people moved past bad moments in their past. Maybe you and Cooper could...

"You don't get to ask me all the questions now," Cooper cocked his head at you. You gestured for him to go on and ask. You saw smugness dance across his face. "How was that night?" he grinned. You rolled your eyes, cheeks getting red from the memory. You shoved his shoulder, "Is that all you ever think about?" Cooper chuckled, "Okay, okay... But-" "Oh my God!"

You both laughed together for a moment before silence washed over the room. Somewhere in the laughing his hand had ended up on your thigh. Heat radiated when you realized.

You looked at him with slightly hooded eyes, the light making your eyes glow in the darkness. Your mouth ran dry, you swallowed heavy. Tension so thick in the room that you were losing your breath.

"Do you ever think that..." Cooper started before stopping himself. He blew his breath out, standing up off the bed. He walked back over to the window, hands on his hips. He tapped his foot slightly. He was angry at himself. He wanted to be soft for you. He wanted to fuck you again. He wanted a life with you that he could not have anymore. You stared at him from the bed.

Things got too comfortable. You scared him off. He can't be soft for you, not how you want.

You stood up, taking your pants off. Cooper looked over, watching you strip down to your underwear. "I'll lay back down," you mumbled a little disappointed, "Thank you for looking out, Cooper." You curled up under the old blanket wishing you were wrapped in his arms. You took a deep breath. Forcing your eyes to squint shut.

Silence for only a moment.

~~~

END//Part 3

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@mortuus-poet | @giggle-shade | @ghcstvibess | @pixelatedprofilepic | @maezydaezy |

[lazybutsmexy]

Task Force 141 + affectionate reader Pt.2

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

Warnings: ANGST, character death, blood/injuries, cursing

A/N: This is for my good girl @gogh-with-the-flow because she asked very nicely 🫶♥️

Under the cut for length!

It's hard to breathe, each inhale burns your insides. Blood is flowing out freely from the wound, and you can feel it corroding your insides as well. 

Your hand trembles over the wound, unable to hold a steady pressure. You can't even inform your status on the radio as your tongue grows numb and the taste of iron invades all your senses, and a brief thought flashes in your mind - you were always meant to die alone, with no one noticing. With no one caring. 

You can hear Price calling for you, begging you to inform your status and location. You push yourself to raise your free hand, spitting out the blood mixed with saliva, a last effort to communicate. They could still come and save you, perhaps one of them was just outside, with a med kit. Maybe you could be stabilized and evacuated. 

Wishful thinking, but hope is the last thing one should ever lose, right?

Your finger hovers over the button of your radio when you raise your sight. A shadow approaches you, the barrel of an m5 staring down at you. 

All hope is lost. 

You press the button.

"...love you, goodbye."

They all immediately knew the moments they heard you on the radio, they had lost you forever 

Your last words weighed heavily on them

They were the same words you'd shout at them whenever they left

And now it was you who left them 

Riding the helicopter back to base became a torture, knowing that you were in one of the few body bags they managed to retrieve 

No one could say a word, really 

Price limited himself to talking to the pilots

He had lost so many subordinates before, and he had been hesitant to accept your affection because of this

But you had been relentless, and wormed your way into their hearts without caring about the consequences

The consequences for them, at least

The moment he arrived at his office and saw your note taped on that one framed photo of the team, he realized he wouldn't be able to get any work done 

He poured himself a drink in your honor, pretending the salty taste was the cheap bourbon's fault and not his tears streaming down his face. 

Gaz stared at a spot in the floor of the helicopter, losing himself in his thoughts

Every now and then, his eyes would shift to the bag, before quickly shifting them away and blink back the tears

He was quieter than usual that night, barely limiting himself to answer if anyone talked to him first

When he arrived to his barrack, he took the last note you had given him, still tucked away into one of his holsters

He was going to put in in the drawer with the others, but didn't find it in himself to shut it

Instead, he took all the notes you had given him and put them under his pillow

Maybe that way he would dream about your loving words to him once again

Soap glared down at his own hands the entire trip

Out of everyone else, he had been the one who was the closest to your location

He had been the one to shoot down your killer, before he had even known he was the one

Had he known, he would have made it last longer

Probably would've made him eat a grenade and transform him into a fucking flesh puzzle

Make it hard for anyone to gather his fucking pieces

(He did plant explosives under his corpse before they left, whoever moved him would blow up in pieces too)

As soon as they arrived at base, he headed straight to the training rooms

He unloaded all his frustration on the punching bag until the skin of his knuckles broke and blood smeared the equipment and dripped on the floor

After almost two hours, he finally stopped 

The floor was splattered with a mixture of blood, sweat, and angry tears

He cleaned it in silence, and bandaged his hands before heading to his barrack

As he laid down in bed, he shifted on one side and the other, unsure of whether he wanted to see your lovely notes on the wall, or not. 

Ghost couldn't get his eyes away from Gaz and Soap during the trip.

He could hear your voice echo in his head as you said your last good-byes 

What would you say at a moment like this?

He was never good at offering comfort, but as their superior, he supposed he should say something

Then it dawned on him

He was also your superior

When was the last time he openly showed any gratitude towards you?

You had never been subtle when showing affection, you simply adapted yourself to whoever was your target

You never once made him feel uncomfortable

Instead, you made him feel loved, worthy of having someone waiting for him

Although he had tried to push you away many times in the beginning, he ended up finding himself eager to come back alive

Because you were waiting for him - for all of them

Had it always been your plan? To make them feel the need to come back?

As he sat down at his desk that night, all your notes displayed on the hardwood table, he couldn't help but think 

Who would he try his best to come back for, now that you were gone?

[corpsebasil]

Triple Threat 💣⚔️🔫

Your brothers and you are Stu’s children and, when you run into Ethan’s Ghostface, you consider teaming up.

Your brothers were acting unhinged.

You felt embarrassed, watching as Ethan examined your shared apartment, staring around at things that had belonged to your father. Stu had been his favorite Ghostface and, when you’d shoved a knife against his throat in the alleyway, demanding why he was parading around in your dad’s memorabilia, he’d confessed that Richie was his brother.

The three of you had done your research on the Woodsboro murders. You had no intention of killing Sam—no, that wouldn’t be what your dad would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted you to manipulate her into joining the three of you, but what does one more Ghostface hurt?

“And then,” Ansel was saying, waving his shotgun around like a maniac. “we blew that bitch’s head off.” He laughed and you cringed, crossing your legs on the couch. Ansel was the eldest of you and the most like your dad; he was sadistic, uncaring, and enjoyed killing simply for the sake of it. “What about you, kid? Ever blown someone up?”

“You didn’t blow them up.” Matteo argued, sliding a wet stone against the long blade in his hand. Twin swords were his preferred weapons, thin and lethal, that he wielded with expert skill. “The only person here with explosives is Y/N.”

Ethan eyed you warily.

You noticed the boy constantly looking over at you; you’d disarmed him easily in the alley, pulling him into your complex, and he seemed incredibly out of his depth around the three of you. Nepo babies, he’d teased, which Ansel had found infinitely amusing. Matteo only shrugged, bored, and began sharpening his blades.

“Explosives?” Ethan asked, moving closer to you. You nodded and patted the couch beside you, allowing him to sit. He seemed jumpy, like he was worried the three of you were going to kill him after all. Richie or not. “What kind of—”

“Grenades, car bombs—oh, remember that canister thing you did? Under the house?” Ansel said, setting his shotgun down and opening up the large safe against the living-room wall.

“Whole building gone.” You mimed an explosive with your hands, raising an eyebrow at the boy beside you’s startled look. “Boom.”

“She makes them herself.” Ansel grinned, looking like the Cheshire Cat, and threw something at Ethan.

The boy let out a yelp of surprise and you lunged over his lap to catch it, glaring at your eldest brother. Even Matteo was mumbling curses, glaring as your sibling stuck his tongue out on a laugh.

“These are expensive.” You snapped, placing the grenade beside you. Ethan was shaking, pressed fully against the back of the couch, his eyes wide. “Don’t fuck with my bombs. I don’t touch your guns, you don’t touch mine—”

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” Ansel rolled his eyes, practically skipping over to the couch. He reached over to pinch Ethan’s cheek, enjoying the cringe that crossed the younger boy’s face. “Aw, he looks fresh out of high-school. How old are you sweetheart? Sixteen?”

“Twenty.” Ethan scoffed, eyebrows furrowed as Ansel gripped his chin and turned his face back and forth to examine it. “What are you—”

“Definitely one of those remake losers.” Ansel sighed, patting Ethan’s cheek hard enough to sting. “Dad would be so proud.”

“Leave the kid alone.” You groaned, pushing your brother off him before you reached out to snatch Ansel’s phone from his pocket.

“Hey, that’s mine—”

“I’m ordering pizza, you dick.” You told him, glaring as he moved away, muttering ‘okay mom’ under his breath. “Want anything in particular?” You asked Ethan, turning your head, and realized you were still practically in his lap. You didn’t move though, not when you felt his hand hesitantly, almost as if he wasn’t sure he was doing it, touch your lower back.

“Whatever you want’s fine.” He said, expression still wary. Then he flushed when you leaned in, brushing away an imaginary eyelash from his cheek.

“You’ve got eyes like Bambi, you know that?” The smile that crossed your mouth was feline when he blushed, looking away, then back. “Matteo. Call my supplier. We should get this kid geared up.”

“Sam—” Matteo started, looking up, as he pointed a blade at Ethan. His expression was calm. Your middle brother was the most stoic of you all, moving through life with a steadiness that was the foil to you and Ansel’s subdued Chaos. Perhaps if Billy had been his dad it would’ve made a bit more sense. “—is ours. Don’t even think about touching her.”

“But she killed—”

“Do you think I give a shit about your pathetic brother?” Matteo laughed, standing and dragging the tip of his sword across the floor. “She’s our—” he paused, searching for the right words. “she’s kind of like a sister. You can have the other ones, but not Billy’s kid.”

“That alright with you, sweetheart?” You asked, running your fingers along Ethan’s jawline.

There was a pause, a moment of tension, where Ethan seemed to debate the serious merits of trusting you all, when he nodded.

“Fine. Fine, alright.”

“Good boy.” You cooed, moving yourself fully onto his lap, and looked to Matteo. “I’m serious. Call the supplier.”

He nodded wordlessly and left the room, likely off to see if Ansel was writing runes in blood all over the walls again. You opened the Dominos app and began scrolling, settling back into Ethan’s chest. He was tense—more than tense, but he slowly began to relax as the vanilla scent of your perfume invaded his senses.

“They seem…” he swallowed, and you felt the movement against your own body. “Nice.”

You snorted.

“Hawaiian or Meat Lovers?”

“Hawaiian, duh. But how did you guys—where were you—”

“Stu knocked up our mom a couple times when they were teenagers. She was totally in love, even though he had a girlfriend, which it turned out he had a boyfriend because Billy was—”

“But where were you?”

You paused your typing, turning your face to glance at him.

“The system.” You admitted, frowning at your screen. “Ansel got us out when he turned eighteen. I’d been fostered a couple of times but it never stuck.” You smirked, meeting his eyes again. “He made us nicknames. He thinks we’re some kind of special superheroes. Out to serve justice for anyone who’s wronged Stu or Billy.”

You finished ordering and turned in his lap, slipping your legs around him. You’d just met the dude, for fucks sake, but he was hot. And besides—you’d always been rather forward. Flirtation was in your nature. You felt a thrill when he immediately grabbed your hips, his intrigue and fascination overpowering any shyness.

“Which are?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m The Bomb.” You laughed, and beamed when a grin split across his face. “I know, Cliché. He’s Joker, and Matteo is Red Ninja Turtle.”

“Oddly specific for the last one.”

“He finds pride in his creativity.”

Just then Ansel burst back into the living-room, the Ghostface mask on his head, wielding a chainsaw. It wasn’t on, thank God, but Ethan still gasped and flinched backwards, almost smacking his head against the couch.

“Look what I found!” Ansel laughed, shaking the weapon around. “It’s like Christmas!”

“I told you to stay organized.” Matteo groaned, following after him, and yanked the mask off his brother’s head. “God, take an Ambien or something. You’re freaking me out.”

The doorbell rang, then, and all four of you turned to look at it.

“Do you think it’s the pizza?” Ansel whispered, speaking into a voice modulator and, despite himself, a hesitant smile began pulling on Ethan’s mouth. Shit, your family was way more insane than his.

“We’re all gonna end up in an asylum.” Matteo muttered, pointing a finger at Ansel. “Chainsaw. Closet. Now.”

As he opened the door, smiling politely and talking in that sweet way he always did to strangers, you jostled Ethan a bit underneath you.

“Come on,” you said, moving off of him and grabbing his hand. “come see my collection.”

-

An hour later, after the four of you had split three pizzas and were watching one of the Saw movies, you yawned and moved into your bedroom. Ethan followed—like a puppy, to your amusement—and watched as you opened up your window and leaned against the frame.

“They are..” he trailed off, eyebrows pinched together. He’d allowed Ansel to tease and terrorize him, then Matteo to interrogate him in a low, hushed voice about Ethan’s family and their plans. He’d spared no detail, well aware of the sword that rested on the floor next to your middle sibling. “I don’t know. I’m scared, but I like them.”

“Welcome to the club.” You smirked, peering up at him through your lashes. He leaned against the frame beside you, toned arms brushing your own. The night breeze tousled his hair as he stared out at the city, a contemplative look on his face. “What’s going on up here?” You asked, running your fingers through those dark curls of his, and he shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just…I can’t believe you guys are alive.” He glanced over, then away. “Makes me feel like an amateur.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere, babe.” You told him, bumping your shoulder against his own. “Once Sam joins us, we can go after Sydney. And that bitch, Gale.”

“You think she would?”

“I’ve seen her from afar.” You admitted. “She’s got that look on her face. You know?”

“Yeah.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I think I do.”

You stared at each other for another moment, his expression softening as he took in your face. Before he could do something stupid like have a crush on you, you turned, snatching something off your shelf.

“Here then.” You told him, dropping one of your grenades into his hand. He flinched, and you giggled. “Welcome to team Stu.”

this is the most unhinged family ever but I truly think they’d solo

Part TWO

[thewalkingthread]

i found you - r.g. (moodboard)

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: on your search for rick, you're faced with an unknown group. little did you know, they one of the soldiers was more familiar than you thought.

warnings: NOT REVISED, violence, cursing, walking dead gore

author's note: this is loosely based off of events from the ones who live. I've only been thinking about Rick since the show aired but am going to post a Daryl one shot soon! This will definitely have a part 2!

-

You pressed your back against the wall of the warehouse. You glanced over at Bailey who had a grenade loaded and ready to blow. He glanced at you, waiting for you to give him the okay.

You glanced back at the group of soldiers that was slowly spreading around the open area.

They'd been on your tail for some time after dropping a bomb on the town you were tucking in for the night with a group. You and Bailey were the only ones who survived.

You were certain is was the same group. Same black uniforms, same helmets, same heaping amount of artillery on them. You were beyond doubtful that you would get out of this situation, but you had to.

You had to keep going. You had to find Rick. You had to go home.

You nodded your head at him and he threw the grenade in the middle of the warehouse before you both ran for cover. Seconds later explosion rocked the ground, the groans and shouts of the soldiers echoing through the now decrepit warehouse.

Their bodies were thrown across the floor.

"I'm going to finish them off," Your eyes darken as you step towards the dying men. You grab the red handled machete, gripping it tight as you walked.

Bailey wasn't too far behind you, keeping his weapon drawn as you approached the bodies.

You kicked over the first person, grabbing the bottom of the helmet and throwing it to the side. The man was groggy, fading in and out of consciousness but you grabbed his vest and pulled him up towards you, making sure he got a good look at your face before you slowly slid your machete through his forehead.

You dropped his body onto the ground, moving on to the next, repeating the same process. These men killed the people that were helping you. They deserved nothing short of a painful death.

There was one man left, trying his best to crawl away. You wanted to laugh at his desperation.

You kicked him in the stomach, his body curling up at the contact.

"You,"

Kick.

"Killed,"

Kick.

"Everyone!"

You shouted in frustration, grabbing the man by his uniform and pulling him up to his feet.

"Fight. Back." You shout, shoving him by his chest.

He kept his head down, probably still trying to recover from the grenade. The man stumbled back, barely able to hold his body up on his own.

You knock him to the ground, ready to end it. In one swift movement he swipes his leg against yours, causing you to land flat on the ground. You groan at the sudden impact, your machete sliding just out of your reach.

He grabs you by your helmet, pulling it towards him in a jerky motion. He's about to punch you but Bailey swings his staff at the guys back, dropping him to the ground.

You nod at Bailey, thanking him. You pulled your helmet off, catching your breathe as you reach down for your machete.

You pull the guys helmet off and swing the machete down in one fluid motion. His brings his arm up to your wrist, stopping you.

Your eyes meet and your heart seems to stop. You drop the machete to the ground, stumbling a few steps back.

Those blue eyes you've been dreaming about were now staring back at you.

"R-Ri-" You gasped out.

His face mirrored yours in complete shock. He pushes himself off the ground, closing the space between you.

"Rick!" You cried out, collapsing into his arms once he was within reach. You couldn't control the sobs that left your mouth once you were completely in his embrace.

"Y/N," Rick inhaled deeply, his lips pressing to your neck. "You found me." He mumbled.

"I found you," You cried, grabbing at his clothing, as if he would disappear if you let go even just a little bit.

Rick pulls away first, but just enough to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours. It's been damn near 7 years since your lips last touched and you could tell from how desperate this kiss was.

There was an awkward cough from beside you.

You both pull away, an awkward chuckle leaving you as you glance at Bailey.

"So is this the famous Rick Grimes?" He raises an eyebrow. You nod your head, biting your bottom lip.

"Rick, this is Bailey." You introduce the two. The give each other nods, before Bailey glances around the dead bodies.

"I," Rick starts. "I know what it looks like... But I'm not one of them. I just-" He looks ashamed.

"I know. I know, Rick." You nod your head, wrapping your arms around him again.

"Is everyone okay? Alexandria? J-Judith..."

"They're okay. Everyone is okay. Judith- she's perfect." You nod your head presses a kiss to his face. A breathe of relief leaves his mouth and his nods, relaxing his shoulders at the reassurance.

"We have to get home. Everyone- They'll all be so excited to see you." You gushed.

"It's not that simple, Y/N..." Rick frowns. "The people, these people. They're not that simple." He shakes his head.

"I can't- I can't go with you." He mutters.

"What?! Rick are you crazy?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"I'll get away. I will." He tries to reassure you. "You have to go." His voice cracks. "Both of you, you have to go back home. More soldiers will come looking for us and you can't be here when they get here. You have to go home." He squeezes your hand.

"I just got back to you, I am not leaving your side." You say through gritted teeth.

"We don't have a choice, darling." He pleads with you. "Please, I know what I'm doing. I will find a way out. I will get back home to you, I swear." The deep groan of a helicopter catches your attention.

"You have to go. Now. Get home and tell everyone to prepare to fight, or run. Those are the only options." He mutters hurriedly. "I'm sorry this was so short. But I will find you again, my darling."

"Y/N, they're getting closer. We have to go." Bailey urges.

Tears well in your eyes as he tugs you away from Rick. You press one more kiss to his lips, savoring every moment, knowing this could very well be the last.

"I love you, my darling." He says against your lips. "So, so much."

[sopiao]

hii! hopefully you’re not swamped with requests or studies 😓

but can i request a hyper fem reader (uses she/her) that also wears a mask just as much as ghost? always wearing pink, gets her nails super long and glittery, pink gun, pink knives with stickers. like she is only ever seen in a mask. only way she can express herself is through make up and the 141 always notices little details or changes. even after killing and enemy and there’s blood across their face and mask but still mange to look so cute and bubbly.

could you use the callsign you use? i feel like shark would totally fit this!

have a good day!! ^^

-🧸

OMG???? LIKE?? YESS???????

I FUCKING LOVE RHIS IDEA SM!!

(dw bbg- studies r getting better :))

141 with a hyperfem masked female reader

When your first recruited and joined the task force everyone just stops and stares when you walk into the room.

They’re confused when your face is covered, only eyes being visible, makes them even more intrigued with you.

They’d 100% unconsciously move to the side to make a path for you when you walk by.

I feel Soap would be very interested and excited whenever you get new nails, always super sparkly, pink, pastel, and covered in charms and pearls.

Soap is always the first one to see and the one to pick out your next colors. His favorite combo being pink and green.

Shark would call everyone baby girl when they’re all grown men with balls (hopefully y’all saw that tweet).

“Is you LGB? cuz your gun pink” -Gaz

Constantly leaves glitter everywhere you walk.

Definitely gave everyone ‘1 whore 1” pins with a hello kitty with a pink AK behind her for Christmas. Which they all wore on their vest.

You would give out stickers as a form of praise and reward like teachers would to kindergartners.

Price would keep all the stickers you give or just leave behind in your path.

��

“Soap!” You walk into the rec room, not even bothering to look for him, just calling out his name (not the obnoxious loud kind of yell). He immediately would drop whatever he’s doing, a conversation, a game, a task. Knowing by your tone and excitement in your voice that you already have a new set.

“Oohh! Even better than the last” He says, smiling when you lay your hands out for him, he smiles even more when he sees that you picked charms that he recommended.

“I liked last weeks better, had more glitter” Ghost sudden appearance made you both jump. Almost bumping into him since he was leaning over your shoulder behind you.

Sometimes during briefing, you’d rest your head on one hand and the other would be around Soap’s shoulders, ever so often scratching his head and ruffling his hair like a dog. Some recruits would mistake you two as a couple, they’d comment how they can tell you’re the more dominant one.

—

Ghost would always be next to you, sometimes by coincidence, but mostly by preference. Whenever you two walk into the room together you always call him your twin or your mini-me.

“Can’t tell the difference, huh?” You asks the latest recruits, elbow resting against Ghost, pointing between the two of you. Even though there’s a very obvious height difference, your dramatic lashes and pink eyeshadow boomed through your balaclava, you had pink guns and knives in your holster, pink and yellow glow sticks on your belt, and Ghost was a 6’4 built like a Greek God british man.

But the rookies are too intimidated by both of you that they’re too scared to even disagree. Just nodding vigorously as you skip away with Ghost following behind.

—

“Take cover!” You yell, tossing a grenade across the barrier, signaling you’re teammates about the blow. Within seconds the ground shakes and you can hear bodies being thrown due to the impact. Unexpectedly to them a cloud of pink and glitter exploded along with the grenade.

“What the fuck?” Gaz looks up after a light layer of glitter dusts on top of him. The rest of them looking up and seeing the pink in the sky.

“Rest in pink” You bow your head to pay your respect.

—

“Shark..” Price speaks up beside you, the rumbling of the truck going on rocky terrain constantly rocks your body against his. You immediately snap to look at him, almost making jump from your crazed but happy eyes.

“Why don’t you wipe all that off, sweetheart?” He asks, holding out his handkerchief for you, motioning to the blood that’s splattered across your mask and whatever it could touch on your uncovered part of your face.

“No”

“Why not?” Gaz asks, from your other side.

“I don’t wanna smudge my makeup :(“

—

“Shark, did you do something different with your makeup?” Gaz asks once you walk into the meeting room to meet the rest of them. Yes, you did do something, there are little white and magenta accents in your eye lashes. Gives your eyes and lashes a highlight of color.

“Why yes I did. Thank you for noticing, sweetie” You pinch his cheek and sit on the empty seat next to him.

“You changed your highlighter too” Ghost speaks up from next to you, he can tell with your eye shadow and slight nose contour that you switched to a more finer and brighter highlighter.

“Did you change how you do your eyeliner? Looks bolder” Soap asks, inspecting your eyes closer.

“I think you look nice overall, hun” Price chuckles at how they inspect and comment on every little change of your appearance. Your just proud that you’ve taught your boys well, being able to know the names of every makeup technique and step.

—

“You got a little bit of Shark on you” Price interrupts Ghost mid sentence to point out the small patch of glitter on his shoulder.

A couple days later Ghost stops him for the same thing.

“Cap, you got a lil Shark on you” He taps him on the back and shows a small strawberry sticker that was stuck on his vest.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 13

Summary: You are kidnapped in the middle of the night while the two of you are camped out a little too close to fiend territory. Cooper finds you and makes them pay the price for taking you in the first place.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst and Violence. Dark themes. Cooper is not a happy camper. Forced drug use and sexual assault but no rape. Blood and death.

Part 2 -> HERE

Masterlist

It's been a week since the fiend leader Motor Runner and his crew of misfits had captured you. It'd been in the middle of the night, Cooper asleep and you on second watch. Your mind was already drowsy, and you hadn't been paying the best attention to your surroundings when you'd wondered off to take a pee that night. Four of them had jumped you, stuffing a dirty sock in your mouth and spraying some type of chem in your face that made you pass out within seconds.

Since then, they've kept you hopped up on a concoction of drugs. It was mostly a mix of jet and med-x, drugs that made you feel calm and foggy brained. Motor Runner had learned quickly that he couldn't touch you unless you'd been double dosed and restrained, wrists lashed behind you as you kneeled by his throne made of human skeletons They'd taken your clothes early on, leaving you in nothing but the thin underclothes to protect your modesty.

Cooper had woken that morning and found you gone, but your things still left behind. Panic and anger had set in immediately, and the ghoul gathered everything up before he started to follow the tracks that led into the destroyed city that surrounded the Strip. It was slow going. The ruins were rife with all kinds of surprises, and he'd had to fall back more than once after getting overwhelmed by a gang of fiends.

However, he'd finally arrived at Vault 3, and nothing was going to stop Cooper from getting you back.

You swayed side to side, high as a kite, and so drugged up that you weren't sure which was was up and which was down. The world spun around you, making you feel sick as bile curdled in your stomach. Motor Runner was saying something, but you couldn't be bothered to pay much attention. Your hearing felt muffled, but you could feel the vibrations of some type of explosion going off further up the Vault.

"Hear that, bitch? Sounds like someone actually tried to come save you. It's soo fuckin' bad that they'll never make it down here."

A gritty hand grabbed your jaw, and cool metal was pressed to your temple, digging in hard enough that it cut into your flesh. Blood wells up and drips down your chin to mix with the other disgusting fluids and gunk that stains your front. Your jaw aches, but you know better than to fight against what the fiend leader wants from you.

Cooper tosses another grenade down the hall, a terrible grin on his lips as the fiends scream in pain, shrapnel shredding through their flesh and sending blood splattering the walls. His side arm flashes in the dim red lighting of the vault, and Cooper relished in the carnage that he leaves behind him. The fiends deserved worse than death, and he would happily be the one to deliver their silence.

They put up more and more of a fight the deeper he went inside the Vault. The ghoul ducks into an abandoned room and quickly reloads, sliding rounds into the chamber with steady hands before he ducks back out into the hallway to blow away three unlucky men that'd been charging down the hallway with pool sticks.

One of them gasps for air, but he's still alive, so Cooper stops for half a second to haul the man up, slamming him against the wall. The bounty hunter's face is stained with red, and the fiend howls in agony when Coop digs his his finger into the bullet wound on the raiders' side.

"Where the fuck is she?" He spits and shakes the man when all he can do is cry, "Answer me you son of a bitch!"

"Down! Motor Runner has the bitch!" the man eventually screams and Cooper puts him down like he would a rapid dog. On he went, dropping fiends and tossing explosives when he could. The walls were painted red by his actions, and the entire vault looked like a murder scene by the time he'd made it to the lowest level.

Tears fell from your eyes as Motor Runner used your mouth, his heavy cock sliding in and out as he takes pleasure in using you. He grunts and moans like an animal, and you have never felt so shamed and disgraced before in your life. You gag around his length, and a sick combination of precum and drool drips from the side of you mouth to mingle with the blood already there.

This is the scene that Cooper arrives to, his features pulled down into an awful snarl as he points his hand cannon at Motor Runner. He takes you in, your bare chest, and the thin panties you wear that hardly cover anything. The fear and broken, defeated look that you wear across your beautiful face.

"Ha! Nice job gettin' down here, Rotter!" The fiend leader hisses and snaps his hips, vulger curves spewing from his lips, "Just in time to watch me cum down your cunt's throat."

Cooper hears you whine and watches you clench your eyes shut. He can hardly see through the film of red that covers his vision, so raged filled that his hand shakes from how tightly he holds his side arm. Motor Runner still has a pistol pressed against your temple, smart enough to not take any chances.

"She ain't yours, Fucker," Cooper snarls right back and takes a couple of steps forward, only to stop when the raider jerked you around to kneel in front of him, on display like come kind of fucked up prize. The fiend scoffs at him.

"Doesn't look like it's your cock in your mouth right now, does it?"

Even drugged and out of it, you can still register what's going on, and hateful shame fills you up to your core. With a vault full of fiends, fighting back had felt hopeless, but seeing Cooper made rage build up and bubble over. Motor Runner had made a mistake when he pulled his attention away from you, and you took your change the second You felt the barrel against your temple go slack.

Cooper watched as Motor Runner's face went white, a silent scream falling past his lips as you bite down as hard as you can. Your teeth pierce his dick, and blood wells up in your mouth as the fiend rips away from you. You fall back, jaw aching at you hit the ground with a thud. You grunt when the back of your head hits the concrete floor, and you see stars.

The ghoul dashes forward, grabbing you the arm to haul you to his side while the fiend wallows on the floor, his hands grabbing at his dick that hangs limp between his legs. Cooper fishes out his knife and cuts the rope around your hands, and you move before he can make sure that you're okay.

You fling yourself on top of the fiend, pinning him down with your knees on his shoulders as you wrap your hands around his throat. You use every ounce of strength you have left, squeezing and watching the life fade out of the man's eyes before you roll off his cooling body, laying on your back as you cry and stare up at the ceiling.

Cooper carefully picks his way over to you, crouching by your side and gently gathering you up and in his arms. You don't fight him and only cry harder when you pick up his familiar scent when you shove your face in the crook of his neck. You shiver and shake, relief filling your body as your ghoul holds you tightly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, babygirl," Cooper rumbles, but you shake your head. You didn't care, the ghoul had come for you, and that's all that mattered. He gathers your frame up and stands with a soft grunt.

"Let's get outta here."

[rowiewritesstuff]

Soulmate prompt for TFP Megs - where only soulmates can see each other's coloured footprints left by the other on the ground?

Maybe the human gets in trouble/is a nuisance to the Decepticons as they're with the Autobots and only Megs can find them?

PS: Your writing is awesome!

TFP Soulmate Megatron X Reader

You were an absolute menace. You also happened to be Optimus’ charge. A huge reason Optimus was tired all of the time was you. Bulkhead even mentioned that you were worse than Miko. Ratchet sometimes called you ‘Unicron Jr.’ much to Optimus’ dismay. 

You happened to excel in creating weapons- specifically bombs. Wheeljack was a good friend of yours, and you often exchanged tips. 

Oftentimes, you’d use your weapons and bombs to fight Decepticons when you encountered them. You quickly became enemy number one for the Decepticons, the echo of your violent tendencies towards the Decepticons reaching the leader’s ears. 

Megatron was miffed at the news. How couldn’t they kill or capture a single human?! It was pathetic. 

Soundwave played back a clip Laserbeak had captured of one of your battles. It was you against five Vehicons. Several times they had almost managed to grab you, but you always pulled out another weapon out of seemingly nowhere. 

Megatron was impressed- something he couldn’t say about most of your race. You held your own at your size, and your weapons looked homemade. Some moves you used reminded him fondly of his long past gladiator matches. 

“Soundwave. Inform me of the next time you see them on the battlefield. Immediately.”

It wasn’t until a month later they found you fighting again. You were up against a good amount of Vehicons when one managed to hit your side with a shot. You yelled out in pain, alerting your autobot friends to your injury. They quickly began taking on the Vehicons that fought you. You whimpered in pain as you began to stumble away into a nearby cave. 

Megatron landed at the battlefield, where Autobots were looking for you while fighting a small army of cons’. Megatron began looking as well. He almost missed it, but he noticed small, glowing red footprints leading into a cave. 

Megatron knew exactly what those steps meant, and was shocked. Soulmates were rare. Perhaps a handful of Cybertronians ever got one- and he thought he was one of the majority. Was there a new Cybertronian that he hadn’t met before on Earth? 

Megatron followed the footsteps into the cave, and looked up when he heard a click. There you sat, grenade in hand. The old bot merely raised an eyebrow.

“Ah ah, don’t move a muscle, con. If you do, I’ll blow us both up- and trust me, this grenade is a lot worse than it looks.”

“So you’re the famous human, then.” He grins at you. While he’s grinning, his mind is running a mile a minute. 

“Famous? You flatter me!” You flutter your eyelashes at him. Megatron can’t help the chuckle that leaves him. You suddenly grow serious. “Now- who are you?” 

Megatron can’t help a slight look of irritation on his face. “You don’t know who I am?” 

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking bud.” You held your side in pain as it suddenly throbbed. Blood trailed down your side.

Megatron noticed it almost immediately. “You’re hurt. Come, I will see to it you’re taken care of.” He leaned down and offered a hand out to you. 

You laughed loudly at him. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

Megatron was amused. You were smart as well as a worthy opponent. “You’re no fool- but you are injured. So if you truly intend to, human, pull the pin out.” He gestured to your grenade. 

Shock coated his face as you do. You laugh at his face. “You caught my bluff. It’s just a backup shell I have.” You dropped it onto the floor and held your side. “Guess you… you win this one, Batman.” You passed out onto the floor a moment later after the bad joke. 

He stood there for a moment, thinking about everything. You were definitely his sparkmate- and you were definitely a problem to the Autobot cause. He realized that he had only one choice. 

“Soundwave, open a groundbridge to my coordinates.” Megatron gently picked you up from the ground, careful not to harm you further. 

“Megatron, release them!” Optimus’ voice shouted at him from the mouth of the cave. 

Megatron looked at him from the corner of his eye and made his way through the groundbridge. Immediately he went to Knockout’s medbay. “Knockout.” 

Breakdown and Knockout stood at attention. “Yes, Lord Megatron?”

“Fix them. If you fail to, or if you harm them further, there will be consequences. Understood?” 

Knockout and Breakdown nodded slowly. They didn’t understand why Megatron wanted a human healed, but they certainly would do what the violent con’ ordered. They immediately recognized you as the human who had kicked their afts before, and made sure to restrain you on the table. 

When you woke from your rest, Megatron was there. You went to grab your sidearm, but you found it wasn’t there. 

“Ah, you’re awake, sparkmate.” Megatron stood from his sitting position. 

“Uh- I’m sorry, what?” 

Megatron explained what a sparkmate was. You didn’t believe it at first, but a simple glance at his feet left you no voice but to trust his words.

You were surprisingly treated well on the Nemesis, despite being just a captive. You were technically allowed to leave at any time, as you were told. However you choose to instead get to know Megatron and the Decepticons. 

As you learned more about them and their cause, you felt guilt. Some Autobots are just as bad- a lot of them were, actually. You began to become friends with a lot of them- especially Megatron. 

As time went on, you managed to curb a lot of his anger issues. His troops were better emotionally.  They fought better, and less of them died to Autobots. 

You made them promise to never kill the Autobots, to which a lot of them agreed. It was surprising to the Autobots when the Vehicons avoided fatal blows. They only used enough force to stop the Autobots in their tracks. They knew that it had to be you stopping them from using fatal force.

It wasn’t too long before Optimus and Megatron met. Megatron admitted defeat in the war, promising to stop fighting. 

“What changed, old friend?” Optimus didn’t really have to ask- it was obvious the little human sitting on his shoulder was the cause for the end of the war. 

“A lot.” Megatron then left, you in tow.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bad Timing: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

It’s always a case of bad timing between you and Tim, it’s been that way since Afghanistan. A couple of stolen nights here and there before one of you departs for greener pastures. For him it was Iraq, for you it was an honourable discharge before you took up a position in the FBI.

When he becomes a US Marshal he figures the two of you will find your way back to each other again at some point, he just doesn’t expect it to be in some backwater shithole near Harlan in the midst of a raid. He doesn’t expect it to come with a punch in the face as you escape through an open window. He chases you for almost two miles before he catches up and that’s only because you let him.

Distance running has always been your thing, just like intelligence work.

“Fuck Lucky.” He mutters, trying to catch his breath as you slow to a halt outside the abandoned Anderson house. “Did you really need to run me out this far?”

The reason they call you Lucky is because back in Afghanistan no matter what fucked up shit you  were caught up in you always made it out. It didn’t matter what the odds were, the one thing he could always bet on was on you.

It had started because of those five days you spent hiding out in the hills, evading the Taliban with nothing but your wits and a combat knife.

Lucky is what they called you when you came stumbling through those gates looking like you’d been dragged through hell.

Fierce and smart as fuck is what he thought when they’d headed back to the caves and found the mess you’d left there, along with the intelligence cache you’d secreted away. He’d fallen a little bit in love with you right there and then.

“You looked like you could use the exercise.” You say, putting your hands on your hips with that devil may care smile on your lips.

Christ you look beautiful, even in the light from the shitty streetlamp overhead. He remembers the last time he’d had his hands on you. It was during that law enforcement conference up in Louisiana a couple of months ago. You’ve always been a little wild, a little crazy and that translates into the bedroom. He’s asked you to come stay with him in Lexington, give this thing between the two of you a real shot.

“After this assignment.” You had promised him as you straddled his hips. “Let me get these next couple of months over and done with and then we can talk about playing house together.”

You’d meant it, he could tell from the look in your eyes before you rode him into oblivion.

“That eye is gonna turn a pretty colour in the morning.” You say interrupting his thoughts as you reach out to touch the place where you socked him. There’s a tenderness in your touch, one that he spends his nights craving. This is the other side to you, the part he misses more than anything. The part that loves him, the one that will always love him.

“I’d take any hit you can give me as long as it means you’re safe.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the tattoo on your wrist, the one of a four leaf clover. “When are you gonna be done with this undercover bullshit and come home to me?”

“When redneck militias stop buying up rocket launchers to blow up churches.” You tell him and he sighs because he knows what that means.

It’s not easy dismantling an arms ring, especially one with ties to the military. There jurisdictional issues in play, different agencies get involved which means more risk on your part. It also means a bigger investigation because operations like this filter into different states depending on what the hook up is. Guns from Texas, grenades from Florida, body armour from Kansas, the list goes on.

The two of you are looking at a year maybe, instead of the months you’d both thought.

“I guess we still have a case of really bad timing don’t we darlin?” He says, his heart aching at the prospect of spending another year without you.

“Yea Tim.” You say softly. “We sure do.”

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[blueorchid-95]

a phoenix among thieves

Both heralded EOD member Agent Phoenix and nationally known superthief Carmen Sandiego have found themselves in a tight spot. Luckily, neither of them are alone.

The story is under the cut! I hope you enjoy :)

Agent Phoenix’s current predicament is… deeply embarrassing.

He supposes that if your palms are already slick with blood, your grip on your weapon has to slip eventually. It’s happened to his handler, it’s happened to Juniper, it’s happened to Zor, even. Everybody in their field mucks up sometimes.

Regardless, irritation still festers in his chest. Just three soldiers! Heavily armed and well trained soldiers, sure, but only three! He’s fought off more with nothing but a single grenade and a set of stage controls! Look, he’s never exactly been one for pride, but this situation still stings.

They have him securely restrained to a cold metal chair, hands cuffed on the armrests. The lighting is poor, but there’s a startling amount of green visible, which… doesn’t make sense. Zoraxis’ company colors were red and gold, and Phoenix has gone on enough infiltration missions to know that the opposition doesn’t skimp on the branding. The deviation is enough to set his skin crawling, despite how indignant he’s trying to be.

Reginald’s probably looking for me, he thinks. It is not nearly as reassuring as he’d like it to be.

The echo of distant footsteps reaches him, and he grits his teeth. There’s a good chance they’re not even approaching his cell, but he wants to be ready anyways.

His captor draws closer and closer, their paces harsh and heavy. The sound is unfamiliar enough that Phoenix struggles to identify it. It’s similar to Caliente, but there’s not enough swagger, and the rest of Zoraxis Co.’s administrative board don’t walk like this. Considering the Violinist’s defection, it’s very possible that Dr. Zor promoted someone, but the Agency’s spies would’ve leaked that knowledge ages ago.

A previously unseen door swings open, and fluorescent light spills into the room. Wincing, he squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head away from the sudden brightness.

As his eyes adjust, he feels the cuffs around his wrists suddenly click free. Rough hands pull him out of his seat, and he barely manages not to stumble over himself as he catches his balance. Blowing out a breath, Phoenix stands up as straight as he can. If he’s going to escape—and he will—he needs to get himself together.

Two grim-faced old men stand on either side of him, each clutching one of his elbows. They don’t look like much, but Phoenix is not a fool—their grip is light, and yet still tight enough to hurt. Anyone who’s this strong in their later years is someone he doesn’t want to mess with, and besides, he doesn’t even know where he is. Trying to run now would most certainly end badly.

One of the old men tugs at his arm, and he inches forward a bit. Frankly, he’d rather do anything than comply with Zor’s henchmen, but he can’t really see another out in this situation. He’s a captive, and he’s got to act like it.

He’s marched down a long series of hallways, twisting left and right like there’s no tomorrow. Phoenix doesn’t understand it—Zoraxis agents have to live here too, right? How can they stop escapes or invasions if they have to navigate these endless halls? There’s no practical sense to it.

They’re either avoiding something important, or ensuring that he’ll struggle to find his way out later. Either way, it’s working, and he doesn’t like it.

Eventually, they stop by a rather unimpressive door. One of the old men leans forward and swipes a keycard through the reader, and they progress forward, into what is indisputably a prison block—except that every single enclosure is empty.

He’s unceremoniously shoved into a cell, and the door is locked behind him. By the time he’s turned around, the keycard-activated door is hissing shut. So much for that.

Then—

“Hello?”

Two strangers occupy the cell across the hall. They’re evidently siblings, sharing the same ginger hair and the same facial structure, and they’re both staring at him with the biggest, most surprised eyes he’s ever seen. They look like modern, everyday teenagers—but if they’ve been imprisoned here, they must be anything but.

Oh, right. Conversation.

“Hi,” Phoenix answers, coming up to the cell bars. This isn’t his first spin as a prisoner, but this is the first time he’s had others to talk to. It’s a bit awkward, really. “What’s… going on?”

The girl frowns. “What’d you do to get on VILE’s bad side?”

“Vile?” he answers. “Is that what they’re called here?”

“You don’t know?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re in their jail, and you don’t know?”

Her brother speaks up. “Well, they are a secret organization…”

“He’s in their jail!” the girl repeats, scowling at her brother.

“Excuse me,” he interrupts, “but… who exactly are you?”

She turns back towards him, eyes narrowing. “You really don’t know?”

As an agent of the EOD, he‘s not really one for admitting such weakness, but the situation calls for it. “I know nothing.”

“You must be one unlucky guy, then,” the boy says.

Phoenix snorts a bit. “You have no idea.”

“You got a name?” the girl asks, crossing her arms.

“Agent Phoenix, at your service,” he answers, putting on his friendliest grin.

“Agent?” the boy repeats. “Your first name is agent?”

“That’s the part you’re having trouble with?” his sister deadpans. “Not that his last name is Phoenix?”

“C’mon, Ivyyyyyyy,” the boy groans.

Phoenix chuckles a bit. “You can just call me Phoenix, if you’d like. I really don’t mind.”

Ivy sighs. “Got it. Well, you know me now. He—“ she points at her brother— “is Zack.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he nods, allowing his gaze to drift. There has to be something he can use here—some method of escape. He just needs to find it. “So—mind explaining what’s going on?”

———

Carmen’s an hour and a half out from her flight to Monte-Carlo when a man slides into the seat across from her, a newspaper in his left hand.

She raises her head instinctively, opens her mouth to speak, because that seat’s taken, sir, my friends will be back in a minute. But Zack and Ivy aren’t here, and she’d managed to somehow convince Player to take a nap before the next caper, and she’s—

she’s alone.

Determinedly ignoring the ragged sensation in her chest, Carmen lowers her gaze. He doesn’t know what’s going on, she reminds herself bitterly. He doesn’t know you’re waiting for someone who isn’t here.

Something ever so slightly slides into her peripherals, and she glances its way without moving her head. It’s a business card—elegant, yet simplistic—with a strange logo stamped in the center. Beneath the logo, the name Reginald Crane is printed, and right next to that is a hastily-written scribble: Flip me.

Carmen looks up at the man sitting next to her, narrowing her eyes. He doesn’t look like much, between his graying hair and lined face, but looks can be deceiving.

Silently, she picks up the business card and flips it over.

Miss Sandiego, it reads, in the same messy handwriting, I would like to talk.

She clenches one hand into a fist under the table. The man can’t be an ACME agent—he’s not wearing the proper uniform, and the business card doesn’t line up—but some irrational part of brain insists that she should run. “Well?”

“Miss Sandiego.” The man raises his head and sets his newspaper down on the table between them. His tone is too stiff to be natural, and it sends a chill down her spine. “It’s a pleasure.”

“You wanted to talk?” She holds up the card, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “I believe that you and I have a common goal.”

The man—Reginald?—reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a full-to-bursting file folder. He carefully searches through the file’s contents, pulling out a single photograph with a muted flourish and putting it on the table next to him.

Carmen’s breath seizes.

A young man in a grey trench coat is surrounded by three uncomfortably familiar faces. Tigress, Paper Star, Le Chevre—all ganging up on a stranger in a dark alley. Considering this interaction, Carmen doubts the photographed victim is an everyday civilian, but her breath comes as short as it did that day in Morocco anyways.

“As a representative of the Agency,” Reginald continues, “I have come to offer you an alliance.”

She takes a moment to center herself. “The Agency?”

Everyone in the world knows about the Agency at this point—considering the events of the Peace Summit, she’d be surprised if someone didn’t. Still, the revelation comes out of left field. Why would an organization dedicated to controlling illegal syndicates want to deal with criminals?

Necessity, she thinks, eyeing the photo between them. “… You want me to help save your agent.”

“That’s part of it,” he hums, although the underlying tension ruins his noncommittal air. “We’d also like to offer you an extended alliance. Our tech crew has noted that you—“ he taps at the photo— “often are in opposition to these costumed strangers whenever they appear, and by estimate, they are also likely linked to Zoraxis. Undermining both organizations would prove beneficial to all involved.”

“You’re real good at this sort of thing,” Carmen observes.

He shrugs, smirking a bit. “I’m just stating fact.”

She leans back in her seat, frowning slightly as she thinks it over. The Agency isn’t government-owned, but that’s all she really knows about them. Even after the events at Zoraxis brought them into the limelight, information about them had been practically impossible to gather. Almost everything Player had found online was highly contested or hearsay, and they had barely any online presence to track—just a small hiring site for HR, and it wasn’t even connected to the organization’s servers.

Carmen may as well be putting her trust in the hands of a ghost.

“I’d need time to figure out anything solid,” she says loftily,  leaning back. “But I suppose I’m willing to work with you on this one. Just…. give me some time.”

“Of course.” Reginald grabs the photo and stands up, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. “Thank you, Miss Sandiego.”

Despite her situation, she can’t hold back a smirk.

“Call me Carmen.”

[the--rebel--fae]

To Love a Fallen Angel

A/N: Finally I start this up, the fic I promised for the 50+ follower celebration! This is only ch. 1 of the fic--I promise there will be a lot more. I'm really excited about this. So! Without further ado, enjoy my loves! Oh and if you rather read it in Ao3 I'll provide the link for it in a separate post!

TW: Violence, a lot of swearing, Adam being sexist, but that's about it for this chapter.

The sun shone brilliantly against the terracotta walls of the villa you called your home since you were just a child. As you passed by a window you looked out at the expanse of land with rolling Spanish hills stretching as far as the eye can see. 

You loved this time in the morning. It was like everything in España was just waking up. Letting out a contented hum, you leave the window and continue your usual morning walk only stopping when you neared a small alcove in the wall that held something very important to you.

Your late brother's memorial. Everyone in the family worked together to compile different items and pictures for Alejandro. It was a big blow when he got killed--he was the head of the family after all ever since your parents passed just a few years prior. Now, it was up to you and your cousin Mikhail to lead the family. 

"I miss you hermano. How I wish I could tell you about all the new things that have happened." 

You sighed as you ran a finger across the oak frame of his main picture on the table. It felt as if it was just yesterday that he turned that mischievous grin on you and teased you about god knows what. That's how it always was, you'd tease each other relentlessly, but at the end of the day, you were each other's rock.

"Missing him again eh?" A deep voice sounded out behind you. 

Turning around you can't hold back the smirk that pulled at your lips. "I know it's been ten years Mikhail, but sometimes," you trail off. 

Mikhail smiles sympathetically and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. The sun glinted off of his honey-brown hair as he stepped closer.

"I know, but he wouldn't want you to be sad. If anything, he'd be proud of all the work you've done!"

You let a small smile flit across your face. "Hmm, true enough I guess."

The halls echoed back Mikhail's laugh. His bright green eyes danced with amusement. "You guess? Who's the one who just put a stop to those bastardos down in Madrid when they tried to take over half of the country with their sex trafficking ring? You were like an avenging angel."

You grinned at that. It was a rather proud moment for you. You despised abuse. Especially to young women. So you got a rather sick satisfaction when Interpol conveniently set off one of the group's wayward grenades that they just so happen to have lying around. 

They got the women out and the leader of the gang was no more. Before you could respond to your cousin's comment though, the whole house shook and the air was suddenly filled with the sound of gunfire. 

"Hijo de," you cursed. "What the Hell is going on?" 

Mikhail shook his head and started running towards the front of the house. "I don't know, but whatever it is, they're going to pay." 

Another blast shook the house making you slam into the wall. You cried out in pain. 

"Cousin!"

You grit your teeth at the throbbing pain in your shoulder but push through the halls nonetheless. “I’m fine Mikhail, just caught off guard. Let’s keep moving. We need to find out who the hell is behind this attack.”

You round the corner just barely footsteps behind Mickail. “Agreed, and what makes them think they have the cajones to attack La Familia Moreno.”

Some of the pictures and fixtures have already fallen off with the forces of some of the shots that have gone through the entirety of the villa. 

“Oh, I have plenty of balls thank you, Mikhail.” A familiar voice rang out, making your heart plummet straight to your stomach and ice felt like it was shot through your veins.

Crowley.

Both you and Mikhail ran out of the villa and were immediately face to face with a mass of paid missionaries with guns all cocked and pointed towards the two of you. After a beat, the sea parted and the man you hoped you’d never see again came walking out. 

After all these years, Crowley still looked the same. His raven hair sharply contrasted with the blaze of the Spanish morning sun, and his grey eyes still held nothing but malice and violence. The military gear he was decked out in just added to his imposing form.

You never really killed anyone, but looking down at Crowley right now, you’d reconsider your morals. 

“You should be dead you hijo de puta!” Mikhail snarled stepping slightly in front of you in an attempt to shield you from any possible tricks that bastard might pull. 

Grinding your teeth, your gaze practically lethal towards the man who tried to stage a coup against your family more than a decade ago, you let out a sigh that almost sounded like a hiss. “Ale, showed mercy to him when he tracked him down.”

Mikhail scoffed. “Damn his soft heart.”

Crowley chuckled. “Yes, that disgusting kindness was a weakness. But now that he’s gone, there’s no one left to hold the secrets of the Familia Moreno, except you little mouse.”

If not for Mikhail's presence in front of you, you would have lunged and killed Crowley right then and there. “Don’t you ever say that nick name to me. Only Alejandro and my family can call me that. And I’d rather die than give you our secrets.”

Crowley merely shrugged as if it was a mere inconvenience. “Very well, then I guess you need a little enticement.” He gave a nod to one of his men and it felt like everything moved in slow motion from that moment. 

You heard a gun cock and then fire–it was aimed right at Mikhail. 

Your body moved before you could think, shoving yourself in front of Mikhail and suddenly everything started going at a normal speed again.

But why did your chest feel like it was being ripped open?

Why was Mikhail suddenly shouting? What was he saying? Why was he crying?

It hurt to breathe.

Maybe if you went to sleep this would be all a bad dream and you’d wake up and you could have breakfast with Mikhail as you planned. 

Yea, a nap sounded good right now. It’ll take the pain away.

But when you closed your eyes…you didn’t wake up.

12 years later…

You let out an irritated puff of breath and fiddled with your half of the necklace you always wore. Even when you were alive. It had the Familia Moreno crest–a butterfly, on it. But it was only one-half. Your brother contained the other half. That was the only way you were ever going to identify him. Or any of your family for that matter. After all, everyone in the family wore some piece of jewelry with la Mariposa on it. 

Which brings us to why you were getting very agitated with a certain First Man.

“Come on Adam! We talked about this! You know why I want to join you on this Extermination! Who knows what other chances I may get, with the way things have been going! I won’t even fight, I just want to have a look around to see if I can find any of my family.”

Adam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “And I keep tellin’ you, Sera would have my ass if I let you down there. You already found your sister-in-law and your niece and nephew. What more do you need?”

You fixed him with a look that he was all too familiar with. 

You didn’t have your brother. Or parents for that matter. 

Lute took off her mask and looked up at Adam. “Maybe just this once she could come, sir. We’re only targeting that disgusting excuse of a hotel. At least for now. Besides I’ve been watching her improve her hand-to-hand combat skills. She’s pretty capable. She was able to pin some of my best girls in minutes.”

A feeling of hope danced in your eyes. Yes! Maybe for once, you could get your wish. And not have to be babysat by Azrael again. You loved that man like a brother, but if he bugged you one more time about using your amazing singing voice for his band... you were going to hit him with his guitar. You didn't know how many more times you could take being called “My little Melody.”

You curse the day you chose that as your alias. But you never felt comfortable sharing your real name unless you were truly close with someone. You had the firm belief that names carried weight. So to those in your extremely tiny circle, you were (Y/n). To everyone else–Melody. 

Adam let out a resigned sigh. “Your gonna be up my ass about this even worse than before if I don’t let you go, aren’t you Mel?”

You smirked. “One. You know you can just use my real name, right? No one’s currently around. It’s just you, me, and Lute in the area. The other exorcists haven’t even arrived yet. And two. You bet your sexist ass I would.”

An overdramatical gasp fell from Adam’s lips. “Hey! I’m for equality and all that female shit.”

Lute and you just shared an amused look. 

“But fine, you can come. Only if you promise to circle back and come right back to my side in fifteen minutes. Because we are so going to pone those losers. So the battle won’t even last long.”

“Yes!”

“--And I’m assigning you a bodyguard. Just to be safe.”

You pouted but nodded. “Fine. I guess that’s fair. Whatever gets me down there at least for a little. Who’s it gonna be?”

“How about Siph? You two seem to get along well and even though she’s new she’s capable.” 

You smiled and nodded at Lute’s suggestion. “Yea, that sounds like a good idea. I mean how bad could it be?”

***

Turns out? It was not the right decision at all to assign Siph as your bodyguard. You realize asyou lay on your side, golden blood seeping out of your shoulder blades, your halo thrown several feet away from you. Your exorcist disguise was covered in dirt and muck as the red skies of hell looked down at you in almost a mocking manner. Almost as if to say: You wanted to be down in Hell so badly. Well here you are.

The whole incident kept playing in your head like a broken record.

Turns out she was jealous of you all this time, just pretending to be your friend. 

It was barely five minutes in with your search paired with her that she suddenly attacked you sliced off your wings, and trashed your halo. Leaving you to die just mere feet behind the Princess of Hell’s hotel. 

“You don’t deserve to be an angel you mafia filth.” She spat at you as she tore your wings off. “You don’t even deserve the way Adam treats you. He should be looking at me that way! Me! I’m one of his best girls. Not some pathetic excuse of an angel. You should be here in Hell where you belong.”

You honestly should have seen this coming with her, but for once, you wanted to try and see the good in someone instead of having that natural suspicion you grew up with.

“Lot of good that did me.” You muttered and coughed. “I can’t die here. Not without seeing Ale or Mama or Papa.”

 You tried to move but had almost no strength. Before you passed out though, it seemed Lady Luck looked down on you because you heard footsteps coming towards you. Hopefully, it was to help and not finish you off.

“Oh shit. Those bastards did it again. Shit shit shit! Hey, are you still alive?”

You felt two cool fingers at your throat.

“Oh thank Lucifer. Charlie! Get your father over here! We have a fallen angel on our hands! Damn, bastardos.”

Did that person just speak Spanish? 

You wish you could see them but your eyes felt heavy and it was a fight just to keep them open. The only thing you could make out was an outline of a woman and long white hair. 

“You’re gonna be alright. Don’t worry.”

You held onto those words of comfort like a shining beacon in a storm as exhaustion won the fight and darkness surrounded you once more.

A/N Well! that wraps up this chapter! I hope y'all enjoyed it! Please do feel free to tell me your thoughts on it! I love reading y'alls comments. And don't worry, the best is yet to come. Our dear Melody is a fallen angel now, chaos will surely ensue...

[tsukimefuku]

fixing broken things ❖ nanami kento

summary: after you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, sorcerer and kind of gardener f!reader, gardening, light nanami x reader, implied past higuruma x reader, nanami is very kind in his own way, hurt and comfort, some angst, some fluff.

wc: 1K

notes etc.: if you feel like reading a prequel to this, here's crooked gardening. i just randomly had the idea for this one and decided to jot it down. it's barely proofread. wrote it to the sound of we're all eating each other/the thing of life (juliet ivy)

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You were pissed. There was no sugar-coating it.

Many of the sprouts on the flower bed you planted a while ago had their skewers pulled out or broken — apparently by accident, or from people stepping on them without meaning to — and that would take a huge time to fix.

You remembered the talk you had with Higuruma — you were back to calling him by his last name, at least for these past few days right after his departure — where you told him you were good at fixing crooked things.

What a joke.

If you really were, would he have left?

Mindlessly, you conjured one of your grenades, and considered for a moment exploding the entire flowerbed out of pure spite and anger. The unexplainable urge of destroying something, and repay the unending pain the world seemed hellbent in dropping over your shoulders.

Just another pointless heartache to carry around, as if you didn't have enough of those already.

You got your hand closer to the flowerbed, but before dropping the tiny grenade, you realized there was an invisible veil you simply couldn't rupture.

There was no crossing it, your body was preventing you from going beyond that imaginary line and blowing up a bunch of flowers you planted and nurtured yourself with such care, even if it were to plant new ones in their place.

There was no escaping the roots that had already taken hold.

"Good afternoon," you heard an already familiar voice say behind you. "Why are you holding one of your grenades?"

Sighing, you dissipated it, patting your hands on your pants to clean them from the dirt.

"I… I don't know, Nanami," you replied bitterly as you stood up.

He knew Higuruma left a few days ago, having talked to the sorcerer himself, and noticed you were obviously still processing his departure. Respectful as he was, Nanami avoided contacting you to offer assistance — he knew that, in case you did want it, you'd talk to him first. You were the type of person who usually needed some space and alone time to process things.

But at that moment, Nanami became slightly concerned, seeing you using your cursed technique at the HQ premises, given it had quite the destructive potential.

You turned on your heels and stomped your feet towards the nearest bench, sitting on it with a sour face. Your arms were crossed, and your anger kept building up with no relief. If only you could find it in yourself to blow up, at least this fucking once.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize that Nanami sat by your side.

He looked at his wristwatch and sighed before speaking.

"I have exactly 17 minutes before leaving for my next mission."

And then, there he stood, impassively waiting for you to speak up about what was going on.

"I wanted to blow up that flower bed."

He looked at you, and inquired, with no judgement in his voice, "why?"

"Because… Because some flowers are crooked, and I planted them, and I'm fucking supposed to be good at fixing crooked things, but fuck me, I guess I'm just… I don't know, Nanami. I don't fucking know," you blurted out, equal parts bitter and defeated. "I wanted to just destroy them and plant something else in their place."

"I see."

"Well, apparently, I'm not even good at doing that, because I couldn't do it. I just… couldn't."

"Why do you think that is?" He asked you, pushing his glasses into position.

"I have no idea," you spat, "do you have any? I could do with some enlightenment, or lecture, or whatever the hell you could throw at me right now. I'm tired of people leav…" you thought for a moment. "No, I guess that's it. I'm tired of people."

He huffed.

"People can be tiring."

"Yeah…" you were feeling a little less out of sorts, and the sadness began taking hold of the anger's place. "So, why couldn't I destroy anything?"

"You couldn't do it because you're not someone who breaks things."

You were a little puzzled, and said, "Nanami, my technique is literally casting grenades to blow things up. I'm pretty good at that — breaking and destroying things, I mean."

Nanami sighed and removed his glasses, turning his face to look at you.

"Not only that. You're also capable of applying reverse cursed technique on other people, so you carry both within you. The potential for breaking and for fixing."

You huffed, and looked at your feet as you asked, imitating his usual voice cadence, "is that so?"

"It is. But not only that. Your rage rarely pulls you down. It pushes you forward."

"What do you mean?"

You looked back at him at that moment.

"When your parents left, or when you lost people close to you, and when you were at that village. These were the many instances where you could have simply given up, but you chose to preserve your family legacy, to become a healer and to save a child. For a sorcerer that deals with negativity and death on a daily basis, you choose to bring out the best from the worst instead."

You were silent, taking in what Nanami was saying, and he proceeded.

"As it stands to reason, you wouldn’t use your pain or anger to destroy anything. You’d use it as fuel."

"For what?"

"Keep fixing broken things."

You huffed, an almost chuckle.

"Thanks for the compliments, I guess."

"Those weren't compliments, I simply stated facts," he answered, putting his glasses back on.

You acquiesced. 

"Yeah, forgot you did that."

You got up on your feet and stood there for a moment, before turning towards him and saying, "thank you, Nanami."

He bowed his head, and got up himself.

"See you around?"

"See you around," he replied, sparing you a discreet smile before walking away.

You stepped towards the flower bed and looked at it, fully aware that just bursting everything away and starting from scratch would be easier. However, you sat on the ground and started pulling the broken skewers off, determined to put new ones in place, realizing this would take a lot of effort and time.

Grunting, you began mumbling to yourself, displeased and somewhat happily defeated for the first time in days.

Fucking Nanami, always fucking right about fucking things.