#i can be trusted with firearms and knives

[sopping-beast]

Okay make that TWO new guns

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 5. Banter

He is in a good mood today. His demeanour says it all—witticisms ready to be hurled at you like knives in combat.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,207

Notes:

Fluff

I know, I know… It’s kinda hard to imagine Ghost uttering the word “photosynthesise”, but let’s just go with it.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

“You’re in my spot, Lieutenant.” You tease, leaning against the doorframe with a cup in each hand.

He’s sitting at the bay window, your go-to place for contemplation. You finally get to see him at rest—one leg on the window’s bench, the other on the floor, both arms gently resting on his thighs.

He’s not in his regular operator outfit today; instead, he’s casually dressed in a black sweatshirt and light blue jeans. There is no tactical vest to protect his chest, no firearm strapped on his shoulder, and no holster around his waist. He feels safe.

Only his gloves and mask remain unchanged. Does he ever take them off?

“Huh, so that’s where you come to photosynthesise.” He huffs as he pulls his leg off the bench.

He is in a good mood today. His demeanour says it all—witticisms ready to be hurled at you like knives in combat.

You approach him and extend a cup. ”Your... cuppa, I believe you call it?”

He accepts your offer with a nod. He is smiling; you can tell by the fine lines forming at the corners of his eyes.

He twists his body and faces the opposite direction, his right side now facing the bay window. As soon as he feels comfortable in his new position, he pats his shoulder, indicating that you can now sit behind him, with your back against his.

It’s your thing now. Every day after harvesting, you sit with your backs kissing and share a moment drinking tea before continuing with your day.

You didn’t question the change of behaviour—not verbally, at least. Maybe it had something to do with his latest confrontation with the enemy. Or perhaps it was influenced by your efforts to make the house a safer, more festive environment for both of you. Whatever the reason, getting Simon to close up again would undo months of hard work. Even though your relationship was strictly platonic for the time being, you were getting along great.

Your backs are pressed together; he feels warm but stiff—as if he’s attempting to imitate the back of a chair. Is he scared that if he relaxes, he will collapse on you? He is a big dude, after all.

You feel his vacant hand rising, lifting his mask. Although you can’t see him, you can hear him blowing on his tea.

“Do we have any updates on the operation?” He queries.

“I spoke with Laswell yesterday.” You inform, ”It appears that Makarov is plotting something far more sinister than we expected.”

“More sinister than a terrorist attack?” He snarls, irritated by the new information. Your back is pounding as his words echo inside of you.

“Human trafficking,” you admit, ”women, even children.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He turns his head toward the window, but you won’t even dare peek at its reflection. Don’t betray his trust.

“What about you?” You ask, ”Any news from your team?”

There’s a nod. “Captain and Gaz are on the lookout, not far from here.” He reveals and takes a sip from his cup.

“What about the sergeant?” you question further, ”the one with the blue eyes.”

You can feel his body tensing up, like a deer startled by a noise in the woods.

“You like blue-eyed sergeants, keeper?”

“Not my cup of tea, Lieutenant.” You declare with a smile.

He likes you.

“Soap is hiding in a safe house in Venice.” He continues, “There’s a port there, and he’s keeping an eye out for any... suspicious shipments.”

“Venice is lovely; we should go someday.” You suggest flirtatiously.

“You barely know me and want to take a trip together?”

“I know you like your tea unsweetened and your lasagna pipping hot,” you sneer with a terrible British accent. ”My grandmother used to say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Wise lady, that granny of yours.” He shuffles around, his body slowly relaxing.

“I’m not sure about that.” You shrug. ”She married twice; both failed.”

“Two divorces; was she as obnoxious as you are?” He scoffs and brings his tea to his mouth.

“No—Widowed.”

His body jerks. He’s coughing—no, he’s choking on his tea.

“Christ, keeper, are you trying to kill me as well?” He gasps in between short breaths.

“Are you okay?” You exclaim, unable to respond in any other manner. Don’t betray him while his mask is almost off; don’t turn around. Leave him there, choking on his tea, but never betray his trust.

He clears his throat one last time. “I’ve been in worse situations.”

“Speaking of worse situations,” you start, “I have a question; it’s uh..”

Hold on a second. Is that question necessary for this discussion? Why bring it up now, after everything you’ve done to draw him closer to you?

Fuck it, it’s too late to back off now. Just remember: You reap what you sow.

“It’s about the mask.”

“What about it?” He asks, cautious but not defensive just yet.

“Do you ever take it off?”

You feel a slight nudge—he is nodding.

“It’s just... I’ve never seen you without it.” You close your eyes and bite your lower lip in terror as if a bomb is going to go off.

“You never asked me to take it off.” He replies.

Huh—what? Is that it? No—this can’t be it. Is it?

“Would you take it off then?”

“No.”

Of course not.

His declination sounds more playful than dismissive. You chuckle to lighten the mood. In return, he leaves a suppressed cackle, pleased that he made you laugh.

“You are so grouchy, Lieutenant.”

“And you’re annoying.”

If someone heard him talk to you this way, they would think he was blatantly disrespecting you. But you are familiar with him and his jokes; this is how you communicate—through witty banter over a cup of tea.

As you’ve discovered, the Lieutenant is like a wild deer. You forcefully pursue a wild deer, and it bolts. But if you offer food and a safe environment to become accustomed to, it will eventually approach you.

That’s what happened; he was the one who came to you, not the other way around.

He adjusts his balaclava and sets the empty cup aside.

“Alright, kid, I have to go get geared up.” He says and stands up. “Thanks for the tea—and the company.”

“Anytime, Lieutenant.” You respond with a slight bow of your head. “Same time tomorrow?”

He nods at you and begins his way upstairs to his bedroom.

“Lieutenant! One last question!”

He stops in his tracks and turns his head towards his shoulder, extending his left ear towards you. You’ve done it once; you might as well do it again. Rip the bandage while he is still in a good mood.

“I disclosed my preferences; I’m not into blue-eyed sergeants, but what about you?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. ”What kind of women are you into?”

“Alive ones!” he shouts. ”So, for the love of God, stay safe and out of trouble until we finish this.”

“And then what?” You shout back with raised eyebrows, like a kid waiting for dessert.

“And then, Venice sounds like a good idea,” he replies with a smile hidden behind the mask but detectable in his voice.

———————————————————————

Next ->

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Thoughts from a ✨thirsty✨ mind

Also this is my first time posting a lengthy headcanon to any kind of fandom

TW: mentions of guns and knives

So we know that Sitri has two pistols visibly holstered on his harness. He also has some knives on his belt, mentioned in the Gabriel Christmas Story

(I haven’t seen it fully, since only joining the fandom during Gamigin’s event, but I’ve seen the “Random bullshit go! Joke)

His knife/knives were also mentioned in the boss battle against Ppung (2-99)

I can’t help but think;

What if he’s also into knife/gun play? Not like a full on kink, but sort of like something that supplements his main kink.

Now, I know these kinks/scenarios can be taboo, and dangerous. But I think that Sitri would be very careful in these situations.

Just imagine, the imitation of danger would get MC’s heart racing, and we all know he’s a sucker for that. They’d effectively be putting a lot of trust in him, but he’s cautious enough to mitigate any risks.

✨Knives✨

The knives he keeps on his belt as weapons are strictly off limits, due to the fact that they’re lethally sharp.

He owns a few other knives, and will tailor his choice to the MC’s preference.

For example, he has a training butterfly knife, that’s very beginner friendly. No sharp blade, but still carries the sensation of cold metal.

But if the MC is feeling a bit more confident, he’ll use a knife that has a dulled blade. Sharp enough to cause light scratches or cut through clothes, but not sharp enough to cause serious injury.

He’ll use the trainee butterfly blade to lift MC’s chin, or hold the flat edge to their throat. He’ll never hold a sharp edge to them, especially if they’re a particularly squirmy MC. They’re safe in his hands.

✨Guns✨

The gun he uses for such scenarios is an antique ornate duelling pistol. It’s weathered in some places, as it was his first firearm.

Since he upgraded it to a set of modern pistols, he retired his old gun. It was thoroughly decommissioned by a blacksmith in Gehenna, and stored away in his room.

With this in mind, the gun is nothing more than a prop now, so he has no issue with using it for any roleplaying, since he knows for certain that there’s no danger in that aspect.

Of course, he’d let MC know that there’s no threat prior to engaging in such shenanigans.

However, with the thrill of the implied danger, MC can’t help but be turned on. Which causes their heart to race, which in turns Sitri on further, and so on and so forth.

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #18: Hackneyed

Locke slouched in the rickety chair in the corner of the room and scowled at the Miqo’te brigand and the old Hyuran man, embroiled in an argument that they had doubtless navigated a couple dozen times with different people in different places. “You can live a different life— a better life! The wood will provide for you, you need only listen to it!” “Better to die our way than to live according to an unseen spirit’s!” “You won’t have to give up your culture!” “No, we would only have to change a select number of our beliefs to better suit your masters, our own ideas be damned!” And so it went, as they treaded and retreaded their tired justifications and their stale rebuttals. The feud had gone on for generations. It was unlikely to be solved in a two room hut by a hermit and a thief.

“Can we bring her in already?” Locke groaned. Their noise had done his headache no favors. “They’ve probably got a reward posted by now.” “Of course, your reward,” the brigand snarled behind her mask. “You don’t stand for anything, you whore your ideals out for coin.”

“Not my forest, not my problems,” he said drily. “Besides, you stabbed me.” “And I regret that it wasn’t fatal,” she snapped. Locke looked at the hermit and waved his hand in the direction of the brigand. “Does she seem reasonable to you?” “I believe there’s a way forward for all of us in the Twelveswood,” he said. “We just have to find it.”

“Yes, you believe so strongly that you’ve tied me up. Your faith in me is awe-inspiring!" “Word help me.” Locke leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, though he rested his hand near his revolver, unholstered and set atop the table beside him. Maybe the hermit genuinely believed what he was saying and didn’t want her to come to harm, despite everything. But Locke didn’t trust the brigand to feel the same. She was divested of her bow, arrows, and knives, and her hands were bound. She shouldn’t be a threat.

All the same, Locke wasn’t leaving anything to chance. "Even now, your rabbit friend waits for an excuse to attack." A humorless laugh reverberated behind the Keeper's mask. "How can you claim there can be cooperation between us all if it is only offered at knifepoint?" “Perhaps you have a point." The old man's voice turned gentle, thoughtful. “I have not put my trust in you as I should.” Locke righted his head in time to see the old man walking toward him. The hermit stopped at the table, fingers hovering, then collected the brigand’s knives and walked to her side. “Got to be kidding me,” Locke grumbled.

The old man cut the brigand’s hands free, then he extended the knives to her, as if they were some sort of peace offering rather than weapons she’d been wielding not a bell ago. Her yellow eyes flicked between the knives and the hermit, as if searching for any sign of deception. She spared Locke only a single glance before tentatively taking the knives into her clawed fingers. Locke set his hand on his revolver and watched as she slid the knives back into their sheaths.

“The merchant’s belongings stay with us, so that we may return them,” the old man said, a stern expression on his face, as if he was scolding a student. “But you can go. I won’t tell the Wailers about you. Do you agree, wanderer?” Locke met the old man’s gray eyes, then the brigand’s gold ones. Did his opinion really matter? He shrugged his good shoulder. “Whatever.” The brigand looked between them, glowing eyes in her mask narrowing to slits. She took several tentative steps and grabbed her bow from where it rested. Locke’s fingers tightened on his firearm until she slung the bow over her shoulder and collected her quiver to return it to her belt.

“Why?” the brigand asked, her voice no louder than a hiss. “If the Wood Wailers take you, you will either nurse a grudge or not be given the chance to even hold a grudge,” the old man said slowly, seemingly measuring each word. “Like this, perhaps you’ll see things can be different. Not easily, and not quickly. But it’s possible. We can coexist.” “Until your people feed me or my kith or kin to your elementals in appeasement,” she scoffed.

“I hope that never becomes necessary.” “We both know it will. It always does.” The brigand strode to the door, head high, and stepped out. The door thumped back into place behind her. “Regardless, I owe you thanks,” the old man said, taking his seat across from Locke. “For putting your trust in me and restraining yourself. Would you have killed her, had I not interfered?” “Sure. Killed three Elezen just like her up north a few sennights ago. Wouldn’t treat her any different.”

“I see.” The old man looked around the little hut, toward the doorway to the other room, out the broken window. “Well. If you don’t mind one more task, would you return what that woman stole to its rightful owner? I fear you’re more suited to the trip than I.” “You paying?” The hermit considered that. “I don’t have much, as you can see. Not unless an old staff would be of use to you? Perhaps you’d take to conjury?” He lifted his cane, holding it out towards Locke.

“Not likely,” Locke said, and the old man returned the cane to his side. “Pry my reward from the merchant’s hands instead. Here, trade you for his stuff.” Locke produced Odranne’s parcel from the bag and set it on the table between them. A small smile flickered across the old man’s face. “It’s much appreciated. I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble.” “Whole forest is too much trouble, potionmaker included,” Locke answered. He set his hand on the table, steadying himself, and stood. “But I said I’d do it, so it’s done. Hope the medicine helps.” “I’m sure it will. Thank you. Ah, let me get the merchant’s things, they’re in the bedroom.” The old man began to rise, but Locke waved him back into his seat. “I’ll get it. Getting ready to leave anyroad.” Locke stepped through the doorway into the bedroom. The room was sparsely decorated, not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a trunk. It wasn’t difficult to locate the wooden box on the ground, about the size of Locke’s backpack. Once he managed to get the crate under his good arm, he wobbled back into the other room. “Get the door?” Locke asked. The old man opened it, and Locke stepped through. He walked around to the back of the hut and, to his mild surprise, found the chocobo still there, getting to its feet to greet him. “It seems she left you the merchant’s chocobo as well,” the old man observed. His gray eyes crinkled as he smiled. “How generous.” Locke handed the box off to the hermit and untied the bird. After giving it a couple consolatory pats and convincing it he was a friend, he clambered on. Despite a hesitant kweh, it didn’t fling Locke back to the ground, which he took as a good sign.

The hermit passed the box up to Locke. It took some doing, but soon enough Locke had managed to situate the box so it was cradled between him and the chocobo. Not at all ideal, probably not great for the chocobo’s back, but it was working so far. “Thank you again for your help. Both with the medicine and the Keeper,” the old man said. He dipped his head in a small bow. “Should you be in the Twelveswood and in need of a place to stay dry again, don’t be afraid to seek me out.”

“Sure. Good luck with changing the world.” Locke flicked the reins and gave the bird a softly-spoken command. “Go.”

It set off at an easy canter, through the trees and onto the well-traveled road. Locke could only hope they were heading in the direction of problems more easily solved by swords and guns.

[thebindingofpillo]

when it comes to characters such as lazarus, do you think anyone could trust him with any sort of firearm? or like, does any character know how to use weapons? Esau, Lazarus, Samson, Judas, Eve, (and maybe Eden) look like they know how.

Oh boy now this is an interesting question mhmmm… First we need to keep in mind that my story doesn’t really take place in America. I didn’t really want my AU to take place in a *real* country, I intentionally kept it vague, so that people could fill in the blanks themselves. Reincarnation can take place wherever you want! But since I’m more familiar with Italian legislation, some of it might seep into my setting. Which means: guns are rare and difficult to obtain.

Funnily enough, I have an inside joke with my friend that Isaac owns at least one gun. The boy got tired of all the supernatural bullshit so now he’s fighting back.

With that being said: realistically, I think the only one with some expertise with guns would be Cain. He’s very old, he’s seen a lot of stuff, went through a lot of shit, and knowing how to protect oneself when faced with adversity is really important. He’s probably more used to older stuff tho, I can’t really see him with a high-tech automatic rifle. Maybe a tommy gun lmao. I don’t think he killed anyone else besides Abel tho, he doesn’t really want to go through that again.

As for the others you mentioned… Lazarus and guns seems like a terrible combination, knowing his chronic bad luck that thing would go off on him all the time. And while he can’t really die, accidentally shooting himself isn’t really something I’d wish upon him lol.

Judas would not trust himself with guns. At all. He’s already got some pretty strong self-destructive tendencies and Azazel would never allow a gun in their house. Judas has a problem with offing himself in every life, and Azazel always tries his damn best for it not to happen. He’s failed every single time, but that doesn’t deter him. He’s already pretty on edge with Judas living in a normal house with normal dangerous things (like knives) adding a gun to the equation would make Azazel explode immediately so that’s a big no no.

Esau strikes me as the type of guy who would know about weapons/guns but wouldn’t own them? Idk he doesn’t really seems like the type… Jacob might have an interest in Medieval weapons tho, he’s enough of a nerd for that. He probably tried to rope Esau into some historical reenactments but his brother wasn’t really having it. I can see Jacob taking on something like medieval fencing if he wasn’t disabled. Also Lazarus would make fun of him lol.

Samson wouldn’t really know his way around a gun or any other weapon, so he would be a danger to himself and others. Big no no.

Eve might know something about guns? Maybe her father was a cop, or a hunter. I could see that… tbf I didn’t really think about Eve’s parents, maybe this could be interesting! I can definitely see baby Eve looking at her dad cleaning and assembling his guns. The only gun she uses is the tattoo gun in her shop lol.

Maggy strikes me as a blunt force trauma girlie, she should have a warhammer. Or a crowbar, as a treat.

Lilith can’t see, so she wouldn’t even get close to a gun, or any type of weapon. Too risky.

Bethany is a wee baby, her defense mechanism is just curling up in a ball and hoping for the best.

OKAY now onto Eden and Azazel. They do absolutely know how to use weapons. Every angel has a weapon (usually a sword, Azazel and Eden both had swords) every angel is a warrior of God, and fighting demons is part of their purpose. So yeah, both Eden and Azazel (who used to be an angel) know their way around weapons, Azazel was quite the skilled warrior, and even used to create his own! When he first started living amongst humans he learned how to be a blacksmith and goldsmith, and he was really good at it. Azazel’s weapon is currently under archangel Michael’s care, and Eden lost theirs lol. As for guns, Azazel isn’t too fond of them and Eden wouldn’t really need them anyway even if they technically know how to fire one (they’re a Cherub, and Cherubim are omniscient).

Apollyon, being an angel, also knows how to fight but never ever had to in the billions and billions of years he existed. His main weapon is a spear that doubles as the Key for the Abyss.

[moodymelanist]

But If I’m A Thief (Then He Can Join The Heist)

happy day 6 of @nessianweek everyone!! this is the third and final part of the fics I posted for @nestaarcheronweek and @cassianappreciationweek. hope you enjoy ❤️‍🔥

Summary: The Valkyries team up with Azriel and Mor to get Cassian back.

Word Count: 3,780

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Nesta 

Everything had been going straightforwardly enough until Cassian took a tranquilizer dart to the neck.

“Cassian?” Nesta said, her eyes going a little wide as she watched him drop to the floor like a sack of very well-muscled bricks. This wasn’t supposed to happen; in all the missions she’d crossed paths with him, they’d both walked away relatively unscathed each time. “Cassian!”

As badly as she wanted to check on him and make sure he was still breathing, Nesta’s training had been hammered into her far too brutally to leave herself this exposed. She flung herself backward into a handspring to get away from the sliding glass door as quickly as she could, landing gracefully in a corner of the room that she hoped fell into whoever had shot Cassian’s blind spot. 

She barely had a moment to catch her breath before all hell broke loose, even more so than when the Valkyries had been interrupted. Both of the balcony doors suddenly shattered, the sound of the glass hitting the floor nearly deafening, and she quickly pulled one of her knives out so she could defend herself from this unexpected attack. The Valkyries’ briefing had been very clear on potential enemy combatants; whoever was coming now certainly wasn’t on the list.

“Perimeter breached!” Nesta yelled in warning. She heard Emerie and Gwyn stop their fights as a few men dressed in all-black protective gear swung through the wide-open balcony, stun batons, knives, and guns at the ready. The suite was far too small to safely use any firearms, but Nesta had a feeling their giant machine guns were more of a power move than anything else. 

Typical. Nesta took a deep breath before her mind went battle-blank, darting to the side so she wouldn’t get trapped in the corner once punches started getting thrown. She didn’t get very far before one of the men barked out orders, and then it was disorganized chaos. These men didn’t have nearly the same level of training as Cassian and his friends did, but what they lacked in finesse they made up for in numbers as another round of men swung their way into the room after the first one. 

As she ducked, dodged, and weaved, Nesta realized she’d seen that symbol before. She wasn’t exactly sure when , but she trusted her mind enough to know it would come to her eventually. For now, she just had to focus on getting through this fight.

Nesta steadily fought her way out of the corner she’d placed herself into, Emerie and Gwyn coming to help her like the well-oiled machines they were. She didn’t have to overthink, knowing that when she went low Emerie would sweep a kick over her head, and if she went high Gwyn would be waiting to aim her hits at their enemies’ knees. She got the occasional assist from Azriel and Morrigan, but for the most part, the two teams worked independently.

Eventually, the men streaming in realized they weren’t winning this fight, and started to retreat instead of sending more men in. They didn’t even bother trying to rescue some of their unconscious comrades, the ones left standing just turning and high-tailing it out of there rather than finish their fights. Cowards.

“Cassian?” Azriel called out once the dust had quite literally settled. There was no response, and Nesta watched his body somehow tense up even further as he did a quick sweep of the room and realized his friend was gone. “Fuck.”

Nesta couldn’t help herself from tensing up either – whoever these men were, they’d taken Cassian right from under her nose, and she was silently fuming about it. Cassian was hers to tease and spar and run off with.

“We need to get him back,” Morrigan said, brushing plaster out of her bright hair. Maybe she’d thrown one of the men into the wall; Nesta allowed herself to be slightly impressed. “Immediately.”

Nesta quickly exchanged glances with Emerie and Gwyn, both of whom clearly knew what Nesta was going to say next judging by the resigned expressions on their faces. “We’ll help.”

“Why?” Morrigan asked, clearly skeptical. “You don’t know him.”

“I owe him a debt,” Nesta answered. It wasn’t a complete lie – he’d done her enough little favors over the last few years that surely the least she could do was help him in return. “This will settle it.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Azriel interjected quietly. He looked so much like Cassian that Nesta might’ve guessed they were brothers had she not done her own research on them. 

“You don’t,” Emerie told him, shrugging, “but you know how we were trained. Trust in that.”

Azriel and Morrigan exchanged glances, clearly communicating without words. After a few moments, Morrigan shrugged and turned back to the face the Valkyries. “Fine. But if you get him killed…”

“We’re not amateurs,” Gwyn fired back with a roll of her eyes. “We don’t lose packages.”

“I know who took him,” Nesta interrupted before Morrigan could respond, recognition finally lighting up in her mind. “That symbol. We saw some of them last spring – that mission in Marseille.”

The mission had run pretty smoothly, all things considered, but Nesta remembered seeing that same red wing symbol on some of the men’s uniforms. They’d been tasked with stealing some data from an insurgent group who’d stopped in France for one reason or another, and it hadn’t been too hard to take it.

“Do you have a name?” Azriel asked, pulling out a little tablet. Nesta had no idea where he’d stashed it in the tight cut of his uniform, but she wasn’t going to ask any questions. 

“I can send you the file,” Emerie offered. She pulled out her work phone and tapped through it for a few moments, finding what she was looking for quickly and sending it to Azriel. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Azriel murmured. 

“Let’s get out of here while you do your guy in the chair thing,” Morrigan suggested, using her foot to nudge one of the downed men with a disgusted look on her face. “The vibes in here aren’t… great.”

Thankfully once they all made it out of the room and back downstairs – Gwyn making sure to pocket the drive they’d come to steal before they did – it didn’t take long for Azriel to somehow find a likely candidate for where Cassian was being held. From what Nesta remembered, these men weren’t particularly organized, so it probably hadn’t been too hard to figure out where they were.

As they waited for Azriel to send the coordinates, Nesta took a few moments to flip through the file Emerie had and refresh her memory. A man named Kallon seemed to be the insurgents’ leader, an American who’d joined the military right out of high school and had grown quickly disillusioned. She didn’t know what he’d want with Cassian other than to piss off his former bosses, but her job wasn’t to figure out Kallon’s potential motives. She just had to get Cassian back.

Once Azriel sent the coordinates, the five of them hashed out a rough plan. Gwyn had pulled up the blueprints of the building and found the vents would be big enough for the smallest of them to squeeze through, so Nesta and Mor were tasked with wriggling around up there until they found where Cassian was. From there, Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie would provide reinforcements and help them make a quick getaway.

It was a solid enough plan, but as Nesta crawled through the vents, she found herself half wishing she could’ve swapped places with Gwyn or Emerie. She was the shortest of the three of them, but she wasn’t that much shorter.

“… making a huge mistake,” Cassian’s voice echoed through the vents. Thank God he was awake now; hopefully whatever they’d given him didn’t have any long-term effects. “Seriously. Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened.”

“I don’t think you’re exactly prepared to bargain, Commander,” someone sneered in response. The voice was male, American accent; from the sheer entitlement in his tone, Nesta would guess he was maybe mid-20s or early 30s. Perhaps this was Kallon, their group’s leader. “Besides, we don’t bargain with terrorists, remember?”

Definitely American. Nesta held back her eye roll as she continued to slowly move through the vents, crawling as fast as she could without making any noise while she followed the sound of Cassian’s voice. “Friendly fire is bad form, man.”

“Just because we’re from the same country doesn’t mean we’re on the same side,” the other man replied snidely. Nesta crawled past another few rooms before she found the right one, and the man turned just enough that Nesta was able to get a glimpse of his face and confirm her suspicions that this was Kallon. “Man.”

Nesta pulled a tiny screwdriver out of her utility belt, unscrewing the top of the panel and thanking her lucky stars that the opening was big enough that she could get into the room. After a few minutes of her messing with it, she finally got the damn panel off, wasting no time in silently dropping down into the room behind Kallon. 

He was so wrapped up in his monologue that he didn’t even hear her approach, but Cassian did. His eyes flicked to her and right back to Kallon instantly, letting her know that he knew she was there without blowing her cover.

Before Nesta did anything, she made sure to sweep over Cassian to check for injuries. He was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair, each of his wrists handcuffed to the corresponding arm of the chair. He didn’t look visibly injured, mostly just annoyed that he was stuck in this position, and something like relief spread from Nesta’s chest at having visual confirmation that he was alright.

She made sure to smile at him before drawing her gun.

“I’ve always heard that three’s a party,” Nesta said, clicking the safety off just as she pressed it against the back of Kallon’s head. “Why don’t we break this one up?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kallon said back. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Nesta answered. She tapped her earpiece a few times to send her exact location to the rest of the team, hoping they’d be able to move in quickly once Kallon lost his temper. “I just need you to let my friend here go, and we won’t have any more problems.”

“We’re friends?” Cassian jumped in with a giant grin. Nesta fought the urge to facepalm and instead tightened her grip on her gun, knowing it wouldn’t be much longer before Kallon snapped. Men like them always did. “Wow. You just made my night, sweetheart.”

“More than rescuing you?” Nesta fired back incredulously. What an idiot. “Your priorities are seriously out of order.”

“No, you have your priorities out of order,” Kallon snapped. He turned and tried to force the gun out of Nesta’s hands, but she’d been expecting that. She quickly dodged his maneuver and they grappled for a few moments, Kallon trying to use his height and bulk against her, but she was used to that. It was child’s play to use his weight against him, and once she had him on the defensive it was all too easy to render him unconscious with a particularly nasty hit to the head.

Nesta had all of ten seconds to take stock before she heard the sound of several people approaching the room she and Cassian were in. Azriel and Morrigan came in first, relief written all over them at the sight of Cassian unharmed, while Emerie and Gwyn brought up the rear with matching knowing expressions as they looked at Nesta. Thankfully, her friends didn’t have time to silently tease her given the amount of people they’d brought with them. 

Even though they brought more of Kallon’s henchmen with them, they were nothing under the combined might of the five of them, but one of the henchmen’s guns went off. Nesta ducked on instinct even though the bullet came nowhere near her, hoping no one on her side was injured as she continued her fight.

“Mother fucker,” Cassian hissed. Nesta finished dispatching the henchman she’d been grappling with and turned to see Cassian pressing down hard against his side where his protective padding wasn’t as heavy. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“What is it?” Nesta demanded, in no mood for his ego to get in the way if he needed medical attention. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“If I say it’s just a graze,” he began, wincing at the darkening expression on her face, “would you believe me?”

“No,” she told him curtly. She found the key to the handcuffs on Kallon’s person and quickly freed Cassian’s wrists, taking a moment to rub the feeling back into his wrists since his hands were otherwise occupied. “Can you stand? I don’t know if I can support you all the way out.”

“I’ve got him,” Azriel said, abruptly reminding Nesta that she wasn’t alone in the room with Cassian. She forced herself to take a few steps back so Azriel could step in, throwing Cassian’s arm over his shoulder as he helped Cassian to stand. “I don’t care what you say, Cass. Mor’s calling medical.”

“I already called them,” Morrigan confirmed. She stepped in to support Cassian’s other side, the three of them slowly making their way toward the exit. “Why does it always have to be you?”

It was all too easy to fade away during the commotion. Cassian was back with the people who cared about him, and Nesta didn’t need to be here to distract them any further. Besides, she wasn’t exactly trying to explain to the United States government what she was doing here, so she, Emerie, and Gwyn slipped into the shadows.

Nesta wasn’t worried about finding him again. She always did.

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Cassian 

When Cassian was released from medical almost a week and a half later, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be waiting for him outside his hospital room. Azriel and Mor were far too busy playing catch up with all the paperwork that had resulted from his brief kidnapping, so he’d expected to make his way home on his own, maybe call an Uber and order some takeout before passing out on the couch.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see Nesta waiting for him outside his hospital room. He didn’t even want to know how she’d managed to get inside the facility, let alone to sit outside his room like this, but he wasn’t going to complain. She was wearing a plain white shirt and blue jeans, and her hair was pulled back into a loose braid. 

Nesta looked… different in her civilian clothes, in a way that Cassian couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the way she carried herself when she wasn’t on a mission, or maybe it was the soft smile she’d allowed him to see as she responded to a text on her phone. As highly trained as she was, there was no way she didn’t know he was standing there watching her, but he appreciated the little glimpse that she’d given him nonetheless. 

“Nesta,” Cassian said after a few extra moments of studying her. She locked her phone and looked up at him, her eyes sweeping over him in clear assessment. He could only hope she liked what she found. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t fuck up all the doctors’ hard work on your way home,” she said back, standing. “We drew straws.”

“We?” he asked. His heart was beating overtime at being so close to her even though they weren’t in a life or death situation, and he hoped he wasn’t showing how nervous he suddenly was on his face.

“Your friends and mine,” she answered with a wry tilt of her mouth. “I lost, obviously.”

“More like you won,” he fired back, thankful his nerves at being so near to her weren’t stopping him from keeping up with their usual banter. 

“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree,” she told him with an adorable snort. She motioned to the hallway in front of her and turned to him expectantly. “Shall we?”

He was more than happy to let her lead the way toward the exit. “We shall.”

When they made it downstairs, Cassian wasn’t surprised to see that Nesta had somehow acquired his car keys in the few minutes they’d chatted outside his room. He’d spent far too much time around spies and highly trained agents to let their little tricks surprise him, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t excite him a little bit that she was the one doing it. 

“Do I need to give you my address?” Cassian asked once they were both in his car. He didn’t know how she’d managed to get access to it, but he doubted she’d gone through all the effort of breaking into his building just to take his car. Azriel or Mor had probably just helped her out.

Nesta turned and gave him an incredulous look, still gorgeous even as she stared at him like he was a little bit of an idiot. “Don’t be insulting.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he replied, laughing. He had to stop once his stitches throbbed in protest, but the pain was worth it to see the tiny smile she’d given him in response. “I didn’t want to assume.”

He reached over and hit one of the radio presets so they wouldn’t have to ride in silence, and the soft music easily filled the drive back to his place. He was only about twenty minutes from the hospital, the drive finishing so quickly that he worried that those few precious minutes were all he’d get to spend with her.

As Nesta deftly parked in his regular parking space, Cassian found he shouldn’t have bothered worrying. “Come on. You need to take your pain meds and get into bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied agreeably. He slowly got out of the car and shuffled his way to the nearest elevator, hitting the right buttons so they could make it to his floor safely. “This is me.”

“I’m surprised the feds let you have so many neighbors,” she remarked casually as they walked down the hallway. 

“I fought like hell for a regular building,” he answered, reaching into his back pocket for his keys before he remembered she still had them. She handed them over with a teasing look so he could unlock his front door and he huffed a laugh. “I’m too old to be living on base, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think thirty-one is old at all,” she told him. She followed him inside his apartment and made sure to lock the door behind them, her eyes sweeping over his living room out of what he presumed was a force of habit. “It was on your hospital bracelet. Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

“What, you could look up my home address but you had to rely on my hospital bracelet to find out my birthday?” he teased, slowly making his way over to his overlarge sectional. “And thank you.”

“I didn’t want to seem too stalkerish,” she teased right back. She disappeared from his field of view for a moment before returning with a glass of water and some of his pain medication. “Here. You need to take this to stay on schedule.”

He popped the pills in his mouth and drank the whole glass of water, sighing in relief when the medication kicked in quickly. They must have given him the really good shit. “If you were my stalker, I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Nesta asked, huffing a laugh as she perched on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, but this isn’t my best material,” Cassian answered. He settled back further into the couch and awkwardly draped one of the nearby blankets over himself, not bothering to hold back his smile when she reached out to fix it for him. “The pain meds are just making me loopy.”

“I would make you some food to help, but you don’t want me in your kitchen,” she replied.

“Maybe I want you in my bedroom instead,” he fired back, trying to wink but failing epically. 

“This definitely isn’t your best material,” she said with a snort.

They fell into a brief silence, which he almost immediately broke once his brain caught onto the fact that she would probably be leaving soon. She’d gotten him from point A to point B, saw him safely to his apartment, and made sure he’d taken his pain medication. What else was there for her to do? She probably had much better things to do than sit around and watch him drool on his couch.

“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you,” Cassian said suddenly. Pain medication aside, he liked doing this with Nesta even more outside of work, and he didn’t want to squander his chance of doing it again. “In a non-lethal setting, at least.”

“And what kind of setting do you want to see me again in?” Nesta questioned with a tilt of her head.

“One with fancy dinner and a nice ambiance,” he quipped back, thankful he was firing on enough cylinders to at least make his intentions clear.

She smiled. “Ask me again when you’re not this sleepy and I’ll think about it.”

“But how will I get to ask you again?” he asked, trying his best to fight the sudden wave of drowsiness and losing badly. Damn, they really had given him the good stuff.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. She reached out to subtly adjust the blanket so he was better covered before shifting off the couch altogether. “We’ll work something out.”

Once Cassian woke up from his medication-induced nap, Nesta was nowhere to be found. However, there was a still-hot bag of Chinese food on his coffee table and an invitation to one of the nicer restaurants in his neighborhood waiting in his calendar app, so he figured that was enough to make up for it. It probably hadn’t been hard for her to get into his phone with him lying there dead to the world, but who knows what had happened after he’d fallen asleep. Besides, when it came to her, he wasn’t going to question yet another good thing.

Well? Nesta had written in the invitation notes. Are you awake enough now?

Cassian couldn’t smash the accept invitation button fast enough.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[slowee00]

• — SYSTEM X • ARC 1

  • BY SLOWEE00/SLOoORE

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#—𝟶𝟹 • 𝙼𝚢 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 목표

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❌ MASTERLIST + INFO + WARNINGS

first two - three chapters are old. Bare with me.

CHAPTER WARNGING(S): swearing, blood, two flashbacks

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>>>>>>

If you could describe your situation now in three words it would be confused, terrified, and tired.

You could barely hear your phone's speaker as you bolted for your life. Both legs in action despite skipping leg day while your lungs burn like they were being set on fire.

"Miss L/n, do you hear me!?" The speakers on your phone repeated.

"Yes, YES- WHAT?!?" You shouted, still sprinting to your car. You brought your phone to your ear to hear him better despite having a foggy mind. You frantically got your key out, finger fighting to find the right one to unlock your car with ease so you can slip in and drive away. Your phone in between your ear and your shoulder.

"Listen I know this is bad, ok? just-"

"I know, I know, I mean- I don't even know you, how do I know if I can even trust you?" You said still sprinting towards your car all while turning to the elevator that got farther away the more you ran. But surprisingly, no one was there. Or at least yet.

"Don't go running to your car!" You heard him faintly shout.

It was like a ring in your ear. Hitting a nerve in your brain that stopped your entire body on the spot; stopping yourself with a loud stomp.

You panted, letting a small snort escape through your nose. Your hand just barely grazing car's handle.

"Of course... if they’re here to kill me then they gotta be near my car..." your words stuttered in shock. Feeling your jaw go numb.

"Or in it.." He continued. You heard him let out a sigh of exhaustion.

"I know their mis-"

"And- and how do I know if you're not trying to kill me too?" You panted, slowly back away from your car.

The phone line went silent.

"S-so you are trying to kill me?" You said in a panic.

"No!" He barked.

You heard him sigh on the other end as your breathing began to slowly come back.

"My name... Is Seonghwa- Park Seonghwa... better?" his voice now somewhat soft.

"...a little.." you said under your breath.

You stared into your car's tinted window. It was your reflection. But as you looked closer, you noticed movement behind you. It was a human figure, coming straight towards you.

Just before the unknown figure could swing their arm towards you, you ducked, nearly missing he or her deadly hit.

You let out a small yelp, turning around on your knees and rear to look up to the person who could've gave you a terrible injury, if not that, death. They were staring right back at you. They wore a black plastic mask that perfectly gripped around their nose and mouth. They wore a full black suit with a harnesses wrapped around their waist, thighs and chest; knives and firearms sat in their holsters.

You shivered, trying to find their eyes in their black glasses as they made eye contact with yours; they tilted their head, making their m-hair follow their action.

Quickly dragging yourself out of your hiding spot and stood up, nearly stumbling. Your lips quivered as you stumbled back onto your feet, phone still in hand.

They were holding two electric batons, one in each hand. The one they swing towards you perfectly impaled your car's door, leaving a large slash, ruining its colour.

"Oh my g...gosh..." you stuttered, eyes wide while staring at the marking the mysterious person did.

"I just took off my insurance..." you mumbled as they pulled their electric baton free effortlessly.

"F/N! can you hear me?!" You heard Seonghwa yell on your phone.

You took a step back.

This wasn't a test. This was real. The male figure standing in front of you wore clothing and armor like they were ready to take a bullet at any time. The mask and shades are for hiding his identity. The black clothing on him is for creeping in the darkest corners. If you walk close to those corners, you will only meet to your end.

"RUN!"

And you did. You felt every muscle in your legs jump straight into action. You didn't look back once. You didn't even know where to go. No elevators or the stairwells. You were trapped.

"Miss L/N, hold on, I'm coming to stop them before they do anything serious," you heard him say on the other line. But couldn't help but notice a simple word that left his lips.

...They...

THEY!

"What do you mean by 'they!!" You yelled, your words sound desperate, your lungs nearly at its limit again. You wanted to slow down but you can still hear their fast pacing footsteps behind you, reminding you every time it would cross your mind.

"There's more!?"

You heard them stop running.

"...Yeah, there is..."

Suddenly hearing a metal whip sound instead.

"How many..?" You asked.

"..."

"HOW MANY!?!"

"Four..." he paused.

"..There's four..."

There were four people coming to bite your ass. But you didn't have time to process what the male on the other end said before you got cut off as you felt something being wrapped around your ankle.

Due to the sudden stop from your foot, you could only feel yourself fall. Spreading out your arms as you watched as your phone fell face-first onto the ground. You only heard the male on the other end yell your name before it went silent.

Your only hope. Gone. Just like that.

Your eyes widened as you were still processing what just happened. You reached out to double check but just like a snap, you felt yourself being dragged across the parking garage. Looking down at your foot, you saw a familiar thin yet thick metal wire wrap around your ankle.

Looking up, you saw the mysterious male figure that attacked you previously pulling on the wire. Drawing you back to them like you were nothing but a fish on a hook.

You let out small whimpers sounds of panic as the wire digs into the skin of your ankle. Your body dragged on the ground as you desperately tried to grab into something.

'What did I do to deserve this?!' You thought.

Just as you were close enough to them, they swung up the wire, making your body suddenly start to rise from the ground.

You let out a small scream before you felt your back slam against the windshield of a car. Your mouth open at the stinging pain, small moans, feeling the broken glass against your back. You don't feel anything impale you but you can feel the glass leave small cuts through your clothing.

You groaned in pain, barely able to open your eyes and reached to your back to feel for any blood and shards that piercing your body. Luckily none have but there was blood.

You heard them chuckle.

"W..what d..do you want from me?" You asked through breaths of pain, slowly pealing yourself from the broken windshield. Your baby hairs/bangs/hijab sticking to your forehead as you begin to sweat.

"Want..?" They answered in a low voice.

"I want nothing," they answered in Korean, their deep voice echoing through the parking garage. Their mask slightly muffling their voice.

"You're just my target."

[ Hours before Y/N (M/N) L/N attempted assassination ]

"You can't be serious..." Seonghwa said. Still in his velvet silk pyjamas, he was woken up to the recent temporary squad's new target.

Seo Hyung sighed, siping her hot coffee that fogged up her glasses. Her forehead sweated as a migraine began to slip in.

"How- Seo Hyung- we can't just-"

"I know....I know..." she trailed off.

They both stood in her office lost at what to do next. "She’s innocent?"

"I wouldn't say that..." Seo Hyung places down her mug on her desk. Releasing her legs from a crossing position and leans forward, placing her hands under nose, thinking hard.

"How?"

"Don't know...I’ll have to look into it."

She was stressed. Her hair was out of place and was also still in her pyjamas. She felt out of place, so unprofessional. Only Seonghwa was an exception see her in such a state.

"The new worker, told me he punched in the wrong coordinates- something like that... which is hard to believe because he’s been working here for over three years, so why did he fuck up now..?" She placed her coffee on her office's table.

She sighed. “If she dies… whoever knew her will have questions, if ANYONE finds out she dead, we’re fucked.”

Seo Hyung leaned back to rest her hand against her forehead. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "How so?” he questioned. You were a civilian. You were that important? ‘X’ rules are: Rule #3: stick the mission. Rule #2: kill the ones who were assigned, Rule #1: no civilians casualties.

“The police will get involved, others will get involved,” she paused. “Even if she survives or not, the media will go crazy, our enemies will know it’s us and go after her for information!” “Or the people she knows,” “Exactly! It would be just like agent 89 all over again…” You don’t get an easy way out of this. Either you die or you survive and pray it doesn’t go viral.

“Unless…”

"...Get her?"

"Get her."

[PRESENT]

You ducked, avoiding the male's punches and kicks. He sends another out only this time it was to distract you and instead, sent a hard kick at you but you deflected his foot and pushed him, making both you guys fall onto the cold concrete floor.

You both recovered quickly, shifting your weight onto your hand and bringing your legs up to do a flip forward. But what caught both of you guys off way the way you both did it in sync.

Both were in a crouching pose, watching one another. It was like a mirror. One hand on the ground and the other in the air for support. You had a feeling the male enjoying this as much as you were dreading it.

Running towards you, he kicked his leg up to your head but you leaned back just enough to avoid his attack. But he was too fast. Releasing his leg, he turned around, bringing his other leg to send a powerful kick to your stomach again.

You let out a groan of pain, feeling your already injured back against a cold concrete pillar. You held your stomach, feeling bruises painting your body repeatedly.

Your eyes recovered; sprung open just in time to dodge an incoming punch; landing right beside your head.

You both were close.

It was like a pause or a break you both took, in that moment you looked up and saw his fist penetrating the cold pillar's concrete. The white ash landed on your shoulder and cheek.

Such strength remains you of someone familiar. Such strength is impossible for a human being. If a natural human being had to attempt to penetrate something as hard as a concrete pillar, you can kiss that hand goodbye.

No, this strength wasn't normal.

A shift in his body brought you back to reality. It was only then when you took the opportunity to grip his trapped hand and send a punch to the male's face.

Despite being the same height, your strength wasn't on the same level as his. Therefore your punches were nothing more than child's play. But you weren't that weak. You managed to knock his plastic glasses and mask right off his face. You heard him let out a small growl of annoyance.

Though you did little work, it was enough to make an opening for you to run and make some distance.

He turned his head towards you, finally making direct eye contact with you. He had cold brown eyes gave him a dark persona, you couldn't help but notice a mole under his left eye.

In that moment you could feel the tension between you two. You watched him wipe the crimson liquid running down his nose with the back of his gloved hand.

In the moment you've realized something. You've realized where you are currently standing. You're fighting this random stranger that can possibly kill you in seconds. You have no phone to call for help. As far as you know they only help/hope you currently are holding onto is Mr. Park.

Your hands started to shake in fear. Yes, you may have skills to fight this man off for a while but you couldn't help but dread yourself. You haven’t fought in nearly a year.

He ran towards you as you were in a daze. Feeling his fist make contact with your nose. You held your nose with both hands, stumbling backwards.

You opened your eyes just in time to see him pull a gun out of his harness. But before he could point it to you, you planted your foot before swinging your other leg, twisting your body around and kicking the deadly weapon out of his grasp.

"Ha- I've haven't done that in a while," You said, shocked and mentally celebrating your small victory.

After losing his weapon, he swiftly swung his left arm to his thigh, quickly equipping himself with a large dagger.

"Oh come on.." You hist, bringing your arm up, ready to block his sharp weapon.

"If someone is coming towards you with a knife, you always bring your arm up and hit their forearm with yours, only then is when you keep it away from you." Natasha said in the boxing ring. A large knife swung around her finger, then stopping her action by completely holding the sharp steel properly.

"Let's give it a try, kid." She said, circling you.

"I don't think I can." Her dirty red hair glowed brightly under the titanium lights, you can almost make out every hair strand sticking out.

"Why not?"

"Because you're. Black. Widow." You said with a little attitude, plainly looking at her.

"And?." She remakes.

You signed. "You'll..” you paused. “You’ll just kill me, right?" You heard her chuckle. Startled, you looked up. To meet her green eyes.

"F/n," she said with a childish smile. "We're training for a reason, dummy." With the same smile, she got in her fighting position.

She beat you obviously. She always beats you.

You successfully dodged his incoming attack. But of course, he was stronger. So when your elbows met, he only pushed you onto your back against the hood of a car.

As if holding you down with his arms wasn't enough, he suddenly was now sitting on you, pinning you down completely from the waist up.

Crap, think!

You couldn't understand anything. This guy threw you onto a car and punched a dry concrete pillar effortlessly. So why isn't he using his full strength? You can feel his strength up against you but you know this wasn't his full.

You can feel the cold dagger inching closer to your throat.

This guy wasn't trying to kill you. Fast at least.

This guy is playing with you.

This guy was enjoying this.

You stared at his large dagger then to his dark brown eyes.

He was staring back into your eyes. His hair was messy and untucked. You guys stared at each other before you felt his knees reposition itself, shifting his weight, inching his deathly weapon closer to your throat.

Your hands and arm began to shake violently, turning you head to the side, in hopes of making distances between you and his weapon. Your nose crunched up and your eyebrows furrowed. This made the corners of his lips angle upwards slightly.

"I'll make this quick for the both of us, yeah?" He said, suddenly feeling his previous strength returning.

You went for the only last resort.

Using your legs as an advantage, you swung your knee up in between his crotch. Hard.

"Aah!" You cringed at the stinging feeling when your knee make contact with something hard instead of what you expected. Armor.

"...Try again, Princess," he says with the same small smirk.

You looked down for a second then back to his eyes.

"Oh of course," you said, but then an idea came to mind.

Using what's left of your strength to grab his much larger hands that held the weapon. Gripping it and pulling it away from you both. You tilt your neck to avoid it, and the dagger impaling the hoods of the car with ease.

This brought you both closer, the male's nose nearly hitting yours. But you had a plan. Bring back your head and swing it forward towards him and hit his nose with your forehead.

He groaned in pain, raising himself up and releasing his dagger to grip his nose.

You swung both legs from under his spread legs, keeping them together, and kicking the heavy male in the stomach and pushing him away from you; hearing him fall on the cold garage's floor.

You rolled over to meet the cold concrete under your shoes, regaining balance in your feet. You breathed heavily looking at him slowly beginning to recover from the small fall. Red liquid trickled down his nose to his peached colour lips. Iron rested on his tongue as he wiped the crimson blood with the back of his hand and lick the top of his lip, glaring at you through his long black oily bangs.

His eyes didn't hold excitement and pleasure. No, it held rage and annoyance.

He was getting serious.

Now you started to take a few steps back before turning around to attempt to make distance between you and this stranger. But immediately stopped apon nearly bumping into a familiar figure.

The long black leather coat on top of the ruby turtleneck, the eyelet decor buckle belt with long grey dress pants. His jaw was sharp along with his facial features. This was Indeed the man from the elevator.

NOTES

——————————

❌ - F/N thinks Wooyoung is handsome

❌ - Wooyoung is now finding F/N annoying

<<<<<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>>>>

Taglist (anyone?)

@yayaistime

[raviosrupees]

LINKED UNIVERSE ZOMBIESS

woooft hey friends, its been a while but LU never left my brain or my heart and i stumbled across a very interesting idea

Zombie Apocalypse AU for Linked Universe.

It could either be modern world or in their world, personally I like the modern world, it offers a lot of interesting tropes.

So minor CW for mention of hospitals, zombies, potential gore, guns and violence, all the stuff that comes with zombie apocalypses, ya know? :P

Hyrule I see being one of the ones closest to the outbreak when it happens, so he's been in survival mode for a while. He's eating anything edible he comes across. Old moldy fruit, dog kibble and water still in toilets are all on his menu. He never stays in any area for long, and often travels through the wilderness from town to town. Extremely skittish, doesn't trust anyone.

Wild woke up in a hospital after being in a coma for a while, and was just completely out of it, barely remembers a thing, and wakes up in a completely empty hospital. Since he basically had no real recovery period, he just goes absolutely feral from day one. Has secret worries he's actually a zombie.

Time works an office job, and has been beaten down with the stresses of modern life for a while now, and as soon as the outbreak happened he left work and headed to his nephews ranch out in Ordon. He feels a bit guilty for relishing in the freedom of it all, how he doesnt have to go to work everyday. Exhausted from trying to keep all these kids alive.

Twilight is out in the middle of nowhere, on his ranch, and wouldn't have even known there was an apocalypse until his uncle came over. Generally completely at peace with the whole thing, with some concern for loved ones, but passive. Until dem blasted zombers went for his goats. Adopts all the stray pets that no longer had homes and takes care of them. Has a full backup generator.

Sky seems like just a silly guy who bumbled his way to safety. Really good at helping the others open up and talk through their issues. When it comes to hand to hand combat though he takes the zombies down easily, and always comes through without a scratch. He's the guy that you'd think would be harmless but is actually a beast. Can tell when danger is coming by reading the signals wild birds give.

Four is an exhausted mechanic, the voice of reason, and is very excited to get to use their skills for more interesting things, ie. hotwiring cars, making bullets, and the creation and repair of other such weapons. Hard to keep track of, has a tendency to disappear and reappear like nothing happened.

Legend is a full on apocalypse prepper. There is nothing you can do to convince me otherwise. His uncle was also a knight/military man, so I think of Legend as a kind of begrudging army brat. He's got the full army bunker with floor to ceiling shelves of medicine, canned food, water bottles, and likely a lot of firearms. Legend strikes me as pretty trigger happy, he's also super paranoid and doesn't really want to share with anyone. Has to be coaxed out of his super secure storm cellar. More scared of losing anyone he tries to protect that anything. Give us more redneck conspiracy theorist comic relief legend.

Warriors is a former military man who lost his squadron in the outbreak and now will do anything to keep his new family alive. He joined military school really young, and it kind of messed him up because it hadn't been what he wanted, so he's really protective of Wind. Always feels insanely bad about killing the zombies, because he still sees them as people.

Wind is a feral child, who said fuck middle school and all this, stole some knives and set off. He's hell bent on finding his sister who ended up at one of the refugee camps. Really good at swiping stuff off other people. Doesn't trust anyone besides War. Helps Legend makes maps of the areas around them, devises neat traps to kill zombies. Surprisingly cold blooded when fighting.

BONUS: They find Ravio after they found themselves in need of supplies and Legend is like, "I know a guy" and takes them to an outpost sort of place where Ravio has a little shop tent set up. Super sleazy, salesman chatting them up for a couple extra caps. Legend is really good at bargaining.

[eddie-gluskin-and-i]

When her food arrived, she took a healthy mouthful of loaded fries to keep from saying what was on her mind. While she often heard how simpler life was back then, she was also aware that nostalgia made one forget the bad that came with the good- like a chocolate with a bad center, leaving a lingering aftertaste with an unpleasant bite. If she didn't know better, she would assume Eddie bemoaned the days where housewives beamed at their husbands 24/7 ( courtesy of antidepressants or a lobotomy), and where everyone was so polite (on the surface, with knives and guns behind their back) in the wake of a nuclear creation. "Its dangerous to always look back...otherwise we forget the potential for the future." She said, once she chewed and swallowed her food, before lubricating her throat with another sip of her milkshake. "Surely we can bring back the good of those days in the present era?" She added, her voice taking on a conciliatory tone- just as Eddie took another drink of her milkshake. The young woman tried not to make it too obvious that she was observing the way his lips wrapped around the straw, along with a hint of a tongue. Sadly, a small blush tinted her cheeks, as she returned to her meal. Silence fell between the pair once more, and Cora didn't want this second date to end on an awkward note. As he tucked into his meal, she suggested they play an old children's game. "Its called Two Truths and One Lie. I'll start first: *I enjoy horse riding.* *I have no wish for marriage or motherhood.* *I own more than one firearm.*" This seemed to be an easy one to start with, considering she wouldn't have agreed to their first date if she wasn't one for commitment.

(*Its all good- Its interesting to see where you take my OC...*)

#Two Truths And A Lie #What Shall Be Revealed? #Second Date #Eddie x OC #Eddie x Cora (Five Of Cups: This card can carry a meaning of dejection, disappointment and sorrow over past events. It can also represent a blindness to good in a given situation. I felt it fitting for Cora.)

Eddie leaned back into his seat and rubbed a hand across his jaw. He looked to Cora through narrowed eyes, though a smile crept across his face. His eyes flashed with a hint of surprised amusement.

“What?” She said with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’ve never played it.”

“I’ve never been asked to lie on a date.”

Cora scoffed with feigned indignity. “This is different, and you know it. It’ll be fun, trust me.”

Eddie gave her a quizzical look, but conceded.

“Well I know you’re an equestrian, that one’s easy enough.” His eyes never left hers as he tilted his head to the side. They bore into her very core, but not in a frightening way. They held an intensity that sparked something primal in her. She’d only felt this strongly once before - that was her first warning.

“And you do know how to shoot…” He continued, never once letting her escape his scrutinizing gaze. Cora couldn’t help but lean in closer.

“But more than one?“ She asked. She was getting closer to the fire, but her body refused to let up.

“I certainly hope not,” he said, though it was more of a growl. They were both in this for the long run, and now they each knew it.

Cora held her breath as she let herself get lost in the enigma of the man before her. There was something about him that somehow both drew her in and urged her to run away as far as she could. Whatever it was, good or bad, it consumed her whenever she was near him. She was consumed by him.

The plates of food lay untouched on the table. The shouts and clanks from the kitchen and buzz of idle chatter from the restaurant were all but gone. Right now, it was just them. At least to her.

“Well how’s it goin’ over here, sweethearts? You need a top up there er no?” The bubbly midwestern twang of the middle aged waitress’ voice brought them both out of their trance.

Cora leaned back in her seat, taking the moment to compose herself while Eddie politely chatted up the friendly waitress. Cora excused herself to the bathroom, still feeling the flush in her cheeks and hammering of blood in her veins.

Once in the reprieve of the dimly lit room, she quickly turned on the taps and splashed her face with cold water. Careful not to smudge her makeup, she ripped off a piece of paper towel and slowly dabbed at her face.

She looked up in the mirror and stopped at the sight. Cheeks rosy with natural blush, eyes widened, face for once not etched with stress - she looked like the young woman she was from what felt like a lifetime ago. Not long enough.

Cora’s vision started to spin and she gripped onto the edge of the sink instinctively.

No, it would not be like before. She was smarter, older, stronger now. This would be different - he was different. She could trust herself to make the right decision now. She just needed to decide how to go about this all from here on out.

[prep4tomoro]

Non-Lethal Self-Defense Tools:

Even in "peaceful" societies, it doesn't hurt to have a defense method in place, and at-the-ready, while jogging, walking the dog, driving, shopping, at work, or watching TV at home. Whatever it is, it's important to know how to use it effectively BEFORE it is necessary and know that you are emotionally and physically ready to use it when a threat comes knocking. However, situational awareness should be our greatest defensive weapon. As never before, we have many non-lethal and lethal weapons choices. Before deciding if you even want to use a weapon in determine, ahead of time, your level of accepting the consequences of taking a human life or causing serious injury. This may help to reach the conclusion of what to use or even if you are going to use anything. Selecting non-lethal and/or lethal personal defense weapon(s) will be based on availability and level of proficiency, trust, hospitality, beliefs or paranoia or a combination of these or others. The obvious are firearms, knives, stun guns, and pepper spray but thinking outside-the-box, when none of these are readily available or desired, may be the difference between surviving and dying. Consider, also, that marauders will be on the lookout, and searching, for the obvious weapons. Non-Lethal Self-Defense Weapons: The way things are going, it may get to the point when any self-defense "tool" may become illegal (including non-lethals). Wasp/Hornet Spray shoots a stream about 10 feet. "Judge, I had wasps in my car and I just didn't remember to remove the can from my car after I sprayed the wasps. And when I was attacked by these ass-wipes, I was in fear for my life and grabbed the first thing I could reach to defend myself." BE PREPARED to use whatever means necessary to defend yourself before and after the attack. But here may be some current legal options, depending on your jurisdiction:    [Link 1]    [Link 2]    [Link 3] Pepper Spray:    [Bear Spray vs Pepper Spray]    [Pepper Gel vs Spray]    [Defense Spray with ID Dye] Commercial Projectile Weapons: Pantell/Byrna 5-Round Kinetic and Pepper Projectile Launcher (use Discount Promo Code 1776) [Link 2]

Treating Exposure to Pepper-Spray / Mace / Chemical Irritants:

Don't touch or rub contaminated skin or eyes.

Wash Eyes with mixture of two teaspoons of table salt per liter of water OR a 50/50 mix of bland liquid antacid & water.

Remove contaminated clothing. Wash separate from other clothing with STRONG detergent.

After pain begins to subside, decontaminate skin using liquid soap diluted with water.

Make Your Own: We all know that purchasing a weapon can cost a lot of hard-earned money. Fortunately, you can make your own effective self-defense weapons without breaking the bank. Although these weapons are homemade, they are reliable when emergency circumstances arise. We should never be sure that we are safe or complacent about our security so it’s better to be protected than sorry.    [Make a Powerful, Easy & Cheap Stun Gun]    [Homemade Pepper Spray] Turn Everyday Items into Improvised Weapons Improvised Self-Defense In The Wilderness [Make and Use Improvised Weapons]    [Other Ideas 1]    [Other Ideas 2] In addition to Non-Lethal Self-Defense Weapons above, learning how to use ordinary objects as weapons may provide some sense of security and protection during a self-defense encounter. When commercial weapons or ammo is scarce or you're forced to leave your supplies behind, improvised weapons may be your only choice for self-defense. Hardening a Wooden Walking Stick Into a Spear: Carrying a long stick, made from hard wood (like Oak or Maple), in the wilderness helps with walking rough terrain but sharpening the top end into a point also makes it a formidable defense weapon to keep potential dangers at a distance or catch food. Hardening the point with fire will help keep it sharp. Rotate the point area just above the flames of a small fire to dry out the wood. Once it starts to get a "toasted" look, you're done. For a point of reference, pretend trying to toast the perfect marshmallow over those flames. It should be golden brown, with little to no black char. Sharpened the point again after hardening. Once done, rub plant or animal oil on the spear point. Peel the bark from the shaft, or leave it in place for gripping. Re-harden if the point becomes dull with use. Distribute Weapons: Having a single place to store or secure weapons leaves you unprotected if you don't happen to be in that area of the house when a self-defense event happens. It's always good to secure weapons to prevent theft or use by young or inexperienced household members. But, to improve ready-access by "authorized" members of the household, weapons should be distributed throughout the residence. Consider these Concealed Gun Safes. Distance: Taking lessons for fist fighting, hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, kick boxing, even fencing, are good as backup options but, generally, defense at-a-distance is preferred to up-close-and-personal to reduce the possibility of injury to yourself (see the 21 Feet Rule above). Striking tools like a baseball bat and fireplace poker or pepper spray may already be available in the house and are fair distance weapons but the greater distance to stop an attack, the better. For keeping predators further away, a high-powered rifle with scope and sniper training may be considered. A dog with a "big dog bark" may deter a predator but a dog that has been trained to attack is a formidable defense weapon. [Author's Reference Link] Related Resources: Making and Using Improvised Weapons and Tools

[11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [Immediate Steps to Take When Disaster Strikes] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [P4T Main Menu]

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[pionoplayer]

It was a useful trick and little more than that, at first. I always had a weapon when I needed it, and since I came from Earth and knew what firearms are that meant I always had a GOOD weapon when I needed it.

The typical party members I ran into pointed out that I didn't want to blow all the secrets of my power on mooks and regular events, so I learned how to use the stuff that was more common. I trained with swords at first, but switched to crossbows and powerstaves pretty quickly; I was already a few years behind the curve just from my asthma and nearsightedness, but weapons normally limited by ammo aren't for me, so that's a consistent advantage I can always use.

Then I met my mentor, a weapon mage. He was interested in me at first for the obvious synergy between my power and the school of magic he specialized in, and then I turned out to have the talent too, and at that point I probably couldn't have said no even if I wanted to.

I had a reputation as the "bladestorm" mage by the time I was eighteen. Weapon magi are normally limited by how many weapons they can carry with them, and the mana drain of attunement. But I could summon weapons with a built in power supply-it wasn't that much different from summoning up a bow with an arrow already knocked, or a powerstaff with a crystal already implanted. That meant I could have as many weapons out as I wanted at all times. The few monsters and villains that could get past five hundred warhammers were generally less prepared to have five hundred high explosive grenades appear and then immediately detonate in their face.

Unfortunately having a reputation as an undefeatable champion of good comes with unwanted attention.

I was stronger than I had been, I was trained in powerful magic and had enchanted armor that braces my fortitude, but without the benefits of my bulky equipment I was still a scrawny and asthmatic twenty something young man. My girlfriend was an artificer-we'd met when me and my mentor first started looking for ways to counteract my illness-and she was great at it, but even that wasn't enough to make me actually... normal. Fit. Healthy.

So the assassins were sent while we were asleep.

And bless Abby, she took ten knives to her prosthetic arm before she got actual poison in her. The assassins didnt quite reach me before the rest of our friends reached the room, but Abby was dying. No antidotes strong enough for what was turning her skin to ash, no apothecaries that might stock something stronger than we had.

So our healer told me to summon a knife coated in something stronger. The idea had never ocurred to me, but we only had seconds left.

And it worked. First, a knife dripping with enough Divine Elixir to purify a plague devil. Second, a knife coated in Angel Breath, in case Abby didn't make it and we needed the resurrection.

Abby made it, and when she woke up and heard how she'd been saved she immediately had much more interest in what I could be doing with my abilities than the fact she'd almost died the night before.

In her defense, there was reason to be excited. Can we coat the weapon with anything? As long as there's less of it than there is weapon, and it can actually coat. How about ammo? As much of as many kinds as we can think of. Can weapons be smelted down for raw materials? Sure can. How about mass spawning ammunition to give to others? Give me a big enough clear space and I can outfit an army in seconds. I can even make containers or wagons as long as there's enough war material to hold it.

I was already feeling kind of embaressed about not having really dug into my power properly by that point. That was about when my mentor and old party members arrived-Abby had asked everyone we trusted to come, see what we could figure out.

Armor is a no go. Unless of course it's a sword that turns into armor, that's fine. "Weapon" does not have to mean "practical weapon", Jenstal had the thought of a polearm made by tying every kitchen utensil he could think of to a stick and for some reason it works. A regular carriage might not be a weapon but a war chariot is. A catapult is a weapon. A summoned battle familiar is a weapon. A very large stick of iron is a weapon (but only if I'm thinking of it as a weapon).

We were all having quite a lot more fun testing the boundaries than we should have been, honestly, but the golden moment was when my mentor and girlfriend approached me with a strange device. Abby had been trying to reverse engineer my guns, they said, and had git a prototyoe. They wanted to see if I could replicate it just based on the description without using it.

That seemed pretty small, but my ability uses no energy from me so why not.

The trick of course was that she hadn't finished the prototype yet. It was an empty shell that looked like it. Abby has this sort of mad scientist giggle when she's cracked a problem that's been bugging her for a while. She opened the copy I made up and I think that's the first time she ever cackled-though she's done it a few times since. I had, in effect, given her the complete version of her idea, allowing her to reverse engineer what her work would've looked like when it was finished. Pretty handy.

This also escalated things. It took about five minutes before everyone in the room was kitted out with better gear than had ever existed before then.

My life got very crazy very fast. While we'd been careful to not spread the word about how crazy my ability really was, and had put up anti scry wards to avoid being spied on with magic there was one group we hadn't really accounted for. The Gods.

I woke up to the god of the Forge banging on my door, alongside the god of war and the goddess of wisdom, with an entire LIST of things they wanted me to make. In exchange they offered to help keep the other gods off my back if they tried extortion to get gifts from me.

This lasted... A few days before the more evil aligned gods decided I was too big a threat and... Well, you can guess where things went from there. Killed some gods, took their places, and then spend a few weeks trying to get my head to stop spinning.

Now, for your average isekai protagonist that's probably where things would end, right? Kill the evil gods, me and my friends got promoted to the pantheon basically as a side effect of half a week of madcap man on deity violence. But it had me wondering. Despite the rules known, we still hadn't come up on any hard power limits. I had been careful so far since I didn't want to do something stupid like blow up the planet while I was standing on it.

But now... What WERE the limits? So I tried something weird. Something I knew wouldn't work, SHOULDN'T work. Something that Abby still teases me about today, now that she knows the reference.

I summoned the sord.

If you don't know what that's from I'm not going to tell you, but suffice to say it's a weapon whose properties are entirely dependent on artistic medium silliness. It's not something based in physics, magic, or anything else a normal power could draw upon. But it worked, and that legendary piece of shit is still there in that room where nobody has managed to properly pick it up yet.

That opened a lot of avenues. If a sword that turns into armor is a weapon, so is power armor. If a chariot can be a weapon, then so can a starship. If I can summon any weapon, real or imagined, and have it work just as intended...

How about a little blue box that's bigger on the inside that was designed to fight a war across all of time and space? How about rings that turn willpower into reality? How about machines which can convert gods into something even greater and stronger that can be used as a bludgeoning instrument when looked at from the right angle?

Needless to say, my parents were very surprised when I finally found my way home.

But... The limits haven't ended there. It turns out that what counts as a weapon depends a lot on your perspective. Even a pillow can be ammunition if fired out of a mass driver. A well written letter can "kill" a man's reputation. A convincing ideology can win a war before a single shot is fired. Imagine the kind of weapons you might need to fight and defeat entropy itself.

...Of course, just because I haven't found any limits to the power doesn't mean there aren't any. The limits are just on how I can think to use it. And it turns out, this isekai adventure has a much longer postgame than we bargained for.

Maybe I shouldn't speak so vaguely; this story isn't just being shared for funsies. It's something of an apology notice. If you're reading this spiel on your screen, I apologize for semi accidentally drafting you into our latest weapon. I promise we'll make it up to you, but you might want to hold on tight when it fires.

You get isekai’d into a typical fantasy world with the ability to summon any weapon. You often summon typical weapons like swords, spears, maybe a gun if you need it. You finally realize fictional weapons can be summoned.

[minseologs]

what goes around pt.1

ft. Ryunosuke @/blindryu

“I have to pick up some souvenirs for him as well if anything, maybe you can pick up some items for your person as well.” Ryunosuke chuckles, humor extrudes sarcasm as they walk the grounds of her house in Hokkaido. It was private, yet held a feeling that was too recluse. “Damn— I’m hungry.”

“Yeah— well, it’s maybe if I actually see him this week...” She responds stiffly, though she found humor in her suffering too. “By the way, might fully buy another land property in Yokohama so we’re not so far up north— what do you th—“

“—Were you expecting visitors?”

His attentiveness earned a few seconds to jump away from bullets that suddenly ricochet near their feet, himself using his body and protect her to run them back inside the property. Multiple armed men tread across the garden to approach as it took her mere moments to return in a calmer state, immediately taking her phone out for help.

“It’s Minseo… ambush at the Hokkaido property, send back up.”

Rushing through the halls, Ryunosuke buys time by ensuring doors were closed despite the traditional home having frail architecture and provided obstacles for the men to slow down. There hasn’t been a word uttered since, but trusted Minseo knew what to do. He only follows suit when she makes a stop in the living room, gaze following her as she uses the heel of her shoe to destroy the tatami beneath their feet, and began digging the straw out to reveal an organized infantry. “Really—?? Now??”

“I mean— unless you want to die here, yes—now.“ She loads an automatic rifle and hands it over, himself aiming and ensuring that it was of standard. Minseo took a belt of throwing knives in her favor as they hear footsteps approach. “Stay alive for 20 minutes… they’ll meet us out back.” Her voice hushed along with her footsteps, she plans to attack at the opposing end.

Ryunosuke was no stranger in this world. Skillful on his own way, he aimed through the partition doors with an intent to protect themselves. One can assume his shadow is seen from the otherside before a rain of bullets pierce through the fusuma, followed by bodies attempting to hurt him. Knowing he’s her current responsibility, Minseo makes a run through a connecting hall, taking one man with immediate close combat. He aims towards Ryunosuke, but it swiftly raised upwards with her quick thinking— though not quick enough as she was slammed to the wall with a heavy kick. Her chest had gasped for air, but manages to throw a knife to his knees. The suffering was ended with one bullet from Ryunosuke’s. Stealing a firearm, she leads the way out to the garden, but is met with warning shots once again.

“There’s no way you don’t know these people…” his voice grunts, feeling his cheek scratched now that he’s calm. He notices Minseo hunched with a hand on her chest, panicking as he noticed blood dripping from her lips. “Come on— can you not get hurt for five fucking seconds?!”

“I’ve been a little rough since the accident but I’m managing.” It tasted like dirt and iron in her mouth that she needed to spit out every remnant of it. It was quite painful, but took note that if they gave up now, there will be death between them. Or both. “I don’t know, an angry mob? There’s always somebody want me dead. I’ll figure it out later. Just please— try not to find answers now—“

He wanted to fight it, really. Worrying about the state of her well-being since taking over her father’s businesses. Ryunosuke knew better, so he had always been the one to never question. Observing far but still cared. Very much. His thought breaks hearing steps of gravel outside.

“I counted three more so it shouldn’t be bad. There’s probably more in the car. We’re 10 minutes out. ” He checks the barrel quickly, herself mimicking the one she obtained from the enemy. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Minseo heads out first, Ryunosuke providing support from the behind as he skillfully shot every single one that came for them. She immediately uses the shrubberies of the garden for cover, unable to assist him at the moment to see where her command was. It didn’t look too good as the suspected armed troop left a vehicle. They were outnumbered by seven, and he was running out of options. It felt as if time wasn’t on their side. Went on and on until focus shifts on someone else.

“Minseo— we can’t stay here—!”

“I’m trying—! Just get out of the property— run for it!!“

On a brighter note, it didn’t appear neither of them had gotten close to being shot. Unable to help him at the moment, her plan was to steadily run to the gates in hopes that someone from her side was there for help. But bullets threatened her path, turning around to use the only gun she had for distraction. It had aimed for one enemy, but in the midst of chaos, Ryunosuke stands in the line of fire. A bullet hits the back of his shoulder and follows through the otherside. Suspended horror was on her face seeing him fall to the ground. An agonizing shriek of his name was heard before silence blankets them for what seemed like an eternity.

Something in her breaks again. As though it’s been waiting for a moment to snap. She feels hot with rage. Minseo suddenly can only see one track, and that was to do harm. It didn’t account the surroundings as she uses her body to block anything that may hinder Ryunosuke’s chances of survival. That is if he still had a pulse. She grabs the rifle from his hands and slaughtered anything that moved. The adrenaline of seeing bodies drop in a split moment almost costed her help, when her own team finally showed up to assist. The only thing to bring her back from her rampage was a soft call.

“Seo—“ scuffed hands grabs the back of her coat, and all she saw were his hands tinted heavily with rogue blood. “Minseo—“

The first thing that came to mind was her son. The feeling was all too familiar. The place. The time. The situation. Jinwoo, it’s okay… Minseo grips his hand, trying to help with anything she could as they were being transported to safety. You’ll be okay, Jinwoo. It was fortunate it was his right shoulder. He would’ve met instant death if the bullet entered the left and followed through his chest.

“Why … are you looking … at me like that…?” Ryunosuke asks, his eyes fall heavy. He weakly squeezes her hand. “We’re fi…ne …”

For some reason she couldn’t make out his face: her body felt numb as ringing in her ears were muffled with commands. She could feel someone dragging her but held on tight and refused to be separated from him. It felt reminiscent of something that had happened before, and her heart beat couldn’t catch with breathing fast enough. Her head felt light and she couldn’t stop looking at the bullet wound.

Right… it’s gonna be okay.

[makingthistoventsorry]

*TW: s/a, child abuse, addiction, eating disorders, death, suicide*

For quite some time now, I’ve been debating if writing this will benefit me in some way. I feel as if I have no one to turn to, I don’t see my family much. My only friend is a mother who is always busy. I always feel guilty venting about the struggles in my life to her, because we are living two totally different lifestyles. Everything is just weighing on me, I’m used to it, but I’m really tired. This is going to be long, so if you’re not dedicated to the read, it’s not for you.

I’ll start off by explaining my background and personality a bit. I was born into poverty. My birth mother was 17, and my father was a war veteran almost in his 40’s. He was a family friend while she was a young child. She was groomed emotionally over that time, until it evolved further sexually. He had a wife. All that should explain a lot in itself. He divorced her and married my mother. When I was three he died. My birth mother became very abusive and neglected me in every sense. Her substance abuse boomed out of nowhere, so I was often in drug houses, or brought to the darker parts of the city. There were many times things got violent, and I had to stand there watching her get beaten or jumped. Other times she would leave me alone at houses, or forget me places.

Sometimes she would drop me off with my aunts and grandmother. I would be there for a few months while she had fun without me. When she was ready she’d show up randomly and drag me back, police with her in support. My family would always cry, not knowing if they would see me again after we disappeared.

As I was growing up she would always expose me to evil men, you can guess. She would even preform ‘acts’ with them in front of me, or on the floor beside my bed. My mind has been a catalog of dark memories my whole life. My first memory was my father’s funeral. I have never had a childhood, and I desperately crave a natural ecstasy. It’s strange, but I’ve felt like the same person my whole life, I was matured too early, so my adult life has felt stagnant. By the time I was in kindergarten I had saved her from OD’ing multiple times. I had moved 20+ places by this point, never anywhere for long. She would hide me from the rest of my family, staying with random men or other drug addicts. I constantly smelling like cigarettes, and would have makeup put on me often along with her straightening and dying my hair.

I was a quiet child who was not to speak unless spoken to. I fed myself when there was food. After I started elementary school, I would read a lot. My grades were advanced and lots of teachers took interest in my abilities. I didn’t get too close to them, I kept my distance as to not expose my home life.

I suffered this life on repeat until I was 10 years old, then my brother was born. I knew immediately I couldn’t let him live the same life. A new instinct to escape was planted into my mind. I was terrified to betray my birth mother, I can still feel my heart pound thinking and typing about it. It’s a reflex. After seeing her use knives, knowing she had used firearms, I knew I could be facing something horrific. I will never forget the look on her face when CPS got involved. I spent some time in foster care. Back then they made me tell them everything right in front of my mother, after they left you can imagine how she treated me. After a long battle we were placed with a relative who we still consider our mother to this day. I often think the one good thing that has come out of my life was my fierce drive to protect my brother.

I was diagnosed with severe ptsd, social anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and an eating disorder before middle school, but I suffered from it years before.

Sadly, I still ended up getting sexually abused by a trusted man, almost as soon as I was taken in permanently. It went on for two years before I broke down and told out of guilt. I feared being thrown back into foster care, or that my family wouldn’t love me anymore after they fought so hard to get me. He was kicked out and I never saw him again, still to this day. It was very unfamiliar, being protected, and even tho it was almost decades ago, it still leaves a strange feeling in my chest. Sadly I still haven’t figured out what that is. I feel disconnected and unable to have that ‘shock’ or ‘wow’ factor of happiness, it always been like that. I’ve never felt the relief.

When I became a teenager, I started really thinking about everything that I was subjected to. Mad was an understatement. My brain has always resorted to numbing itself, as a way to protect me. All of that was busted wide open for quite a long time. Anyone who hurt me or others, I resorted to violence for the first time. Seeing other people experience the pain I held, just reminded me of how disposable I always felt. It angered me to an unexplainable degree. Maybe I became violent because I couldn’t face them with words at that time.

I started experimenting with sex as a teenager because it was the only way I felt I was wanted. By the time I was 16, I had consensually had sex with almost 20 people. Some my age, some way older. As an adult, I now know the older men that slept with me then, were completely in the wrong. I was the perfect victim, I was willing even. I was an abused kid who was desensitized to what is acceptable or not.

After graduating high school I was urged to go to college. My grades were in the top percentile of my school still. I knew my adoptive family wanted the best for me, and I had a partial grant from my father’s death. I compromised on a year, to try it. Going to college I quickly became addicted to alcohol, I discovered it numbed me even further. I could tolerate being around people, and I even started being social of my own volition. I started throwing parties every week in my apartment, sometimes multiple times a week. Locally there was no hiding who I saw, and I latched on to it. But, I would close my eyes and suddenly I was back to my childhood. However instead of my birth mom, it was me putting myself under the influence to survive my own life. After a year the rug was pulled under me, I told my family I couldn’t do it anymore.

I started selling pictures and videos of myself when I was 19, and kept drinking heavily. I despised my birth mom my whole life for slipping to addiction and making my life hell, but soon I was on the same path. I started abusing harder powders and other substances, until I had a heart attack when I was 21. I started smoking weed and stopped attending parties/raves/festivals. My ‘friends’ still begged me to come and would offer me drugs. I kept my silence, deep into the self hatred and hypocrisy I was feeling. I sobered up and used weed as a coping tool. Everything had seemed to come full circle, and I just felt the world lived to mock me. ‘Hahaha look at you! In your mothers shoes!’.

I found myself sitting in my apartment for months on end, I would stay awake for days, just taking videos and pictures of myself to sell. Video chats, phone calls, kinkwork that I didn’t particularly enjoy. I kept it a secret from my family. I became addicted to the money, it seemed insane that I could see hundreds hit my bank account in one day. I spent more of it on clothes and weed to make myself feel better. Another escapism. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

During this time I distanced myself from them, they still tried but also understood my silence. I wish I wouldn’t have worried them so much, now that I’m older. I started getting more into my art, I had always drawn, but I started to paint. A decent amount of people were interested. Not sure if it’s because my art was good, or I was known for being a sex worker and they just wanted on my good side. Probably a mix of both.

I met a guy and we started seriously dating, everything was ‘fine’ for the first 6 months or so. We started recording and selling content together. After a year he started to become physically abusive, and would manipulate me. Cheat on me. Whatever else he wanted. He moved in with me not long into us dating, and I supported us both by selling the content that whole time while he sold weed here and there. I bought him whatever he wanted, I thought he loved me.

Eventually he started getting jealous and feeling inferior, alot of issues stemmed from me selling content. I shared my phone with him, he didn’t let me spend one day alone with my singular friend or family. I felt like a prisoner. I felt myself revert to my child self, silent. After so many months of me being mentally checked out, he went off the deep end and held me hostage with a gun. I can’t forget the look in his eyes. He smashed my phone, held the gun to us both at points, and counted down from 5, for two hours. Watching me flinch each time not knowing if either of us were going to be shot if he pulled the trigger. After so long my survival instincts kicked in, I saw he was in the height of his episode and was talking to himself, so I ran out of my house barefoot. Maybe around 2 am. I don’t drive, and there’s a hospital maybe a 5 minute walk from my house. He grabbed the gun and chased me on foot, trying to drag me back by my clothes. I pushed him off of me and he tried to just be done with me by throwing me into incoming traffic. I pulled myself out of the road and kept running. I neared the hospital so he threw the gun into a ditch and ran after me inside. It took 4 officers to restrain him, and we went to court the next day for an emergency restraining order. He was in jail for only three months.

The three years that followed, I didn’t date, talk to men, leave my house, or socialize much at all. Not that I even did before. My paranoia grew, I suffered the most from my schizophrenia at that time. I through myself into making content even harder. The restraining order was for two years, shortly after it was up I found him stalking my social media.

The years I was alone, I had nightmares of him almost every single day. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or do anything without feeling that moment. I realized maybe I did want to live, and that’s why I felt I was suffering so much. I started getting more into my art and sold a decent amount alongside my content. I was known as a local adult model, and accumulated maybe 10k followers on the internet at this point. No one knew how much I suffered since I’ve always been a private person.

I’m still alone now. Still making content. It’s been around 6-7 years since I started. I feel trapped. Unable to function in society under a different job. Every day is so mentally exhausting. My existence feels meaningless. I kept doing kink requests, but after making a video where I was payed to insert a knife into myself, I completely broke. I started domme work, I was tired of acting submissive to my customers. I make less money now, but enough to survive. Every couple of months I cry and agonize to myself, will I ever be more? I wish I could depend on my art, but it takes too much emotional effort to make it to the standards it used to be. It just reminds me of all the darkness. That sounds very cringe I know, but I’ve lived in it so long that I try to zone out of the awareness I have. I had one retail job and didn’t last for more than a couple of weeks before my social phobia and schizophrenia made it unbearable to the point of wanting to off myself.

I suffered the death of one of the only people who has ever believed in me last year. I rescued a dog shortly after, and she’s been the only source of happiness in my life. I couldn’t imagine myself leaving her alone in this filthy world.

I feel like I was destined to make men cum, and to shoulder it. I was groomed into that thought very early. I know I’m an adult that makes my own decisions, but the hatred for my birth mom flows through my whole body when I think of what my life could have been. Who would I be? Was I doomed from the start? I know people say, it can’t always be like this, but for some unfortunate people, it is. To some people, this is all we can ever be. This is all I can ever ‘achieve’. Happiness and peace, a moderately happy life, can’t be for everyone. Or else there wouldn’t be so much ugly in this world.

Lately I haven’t wanted to off myself, or live, I’m stuck in an in-between state of just existing. I hope one day I can accept my life for what it is, or that eventually I’ll crawl out of this deep fucking hole. I haven’t lost hope completely, or else I wouldn’t be sharing this. Being the first time I’ve written something this long about my life, I feel a bit of weight off of me.

If you ever feel alone, it’s okay, just don’t give up. You don’t have to feel alive, you don’t even have to fake smile. Just keep breathing, that’s been my mantra. As long as I still breathe, the people who abused me don’t win. As long as I breathe, there’s still a fighting chance.

[noroi1000]

Can u pls do yandere toji or yandere gojo ??Pls. Btw i really enjoyed your work .They are just chefkiss .Don't push yourself too hard .And ty for hard work❤❤

Here are some flower for u 🌷

Ly

Take care

A/N: Thank you for your flowers 🌷and also for your request. I hope you like it. It was my first time writing about Toji.

You have to choose. Yes or no.

Paring: Yandere Toji Fushiguro x reader (you)

Cw: 2,3 k

Warnings: knifeplay, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, threats, blood.

"And? You want to be mine? I'll give you a choice. Just this one time. Your life will depend on what you choose." he muttered, leaning on his elbow on the bed. His other hand caressing your skin tenderly." What you want?"

"I..."

"I think you don't need time to think. Yes or no." Suddenly a small blade appeared at your neck. That's what you hated about Toji. He always had something dangerous with him.

Sure you love him. But this...

...This is really...

"I'm back..." You groaned as you walked through the door to your apartment.

Putting your keys and the rest of the things on the table, you looked around. You couldn't believe that you live in such an apartment. That you have the money to live so well. You could thank Toji for the rest of your life. As soon as he appeared, he made your life better. He brought more love and happiness to it. You never thought you could fall in love this way. Even though he was often gone when you came home alone, you trusted him. You knew he wouldn't get away. You were even sure that he would come back to you.

You didn't mind him leaving. He said he was working. He was always right. There was a reason the money was flowing into his account. It is thanks to him that you can now live in a nice and cozy home. Not dingy and cheap. It is nice and tidy. He gave you everything you need.

You didn't have an open relationship. You've tied up together, and you're not going to go away. Nobody was allowed into your life. He said so. He made you choose between other people and him.

You chose him. New friends may not happen. You have him, so you will enjoy it now. You didn't meet him by accident.

Somehow you never asked exactly how he gets the money. But all you know is that he has many dangerous items with him. From knives and swords to guns. You know it's dangerous in Japan too, but you didn't think anyone would have so many weapons. Additionally, in those days, armed people mainly use firearms or daggers. But your boyfriend has many swords up his sleeve. From short to long. Whenever he brings them in his hands, they disappear later. You noticed that he has no locker in the house. Weapons just disappear. They disappear like air.

Somehow, you never had the courage to ask what he wanted them for. But you know it is not related to something legal. When you asked once, he smiled and replied that this is how he earns his money.

You guessed it only when he returned with blood on his hands. You didn't care as much as you might think. Maybe he kills, but in fact every company is now murdering people from the inside. Debts, loans, housing. The problems. It's just money. Everyone wants to get them somehow.

And your problems only started when Toji started acting weird. His behavior changed dramatically. Same moves. He wasn't so calm in your company anymore. His hands did not move smoothly and delicately.

He was getting rough. More and more wild. You thought this would be the end of your relationship. But he continued to reply with the same love that he loves you. And his green eyes of adoration were a symbol of that.

He loved when you praised him for the work he did. Even though you knew it was dirty work.

However, he hated something.

He hated the way you treated him like the rest of you. Family, friends. After all, he was more important to you than they were. He was with you every day. He tried to give you the best. He did everything as carefully as he could. If only you would have a wonderful life. He saw you love him. You tried so hard for him too. But he just didn't understand the point. You didn't know what he was doing, but you still loved him. It doesn't matter that he always killed. No matter how many lives he took. You were smiling at him.

You even gave him prizes. It was enough for him to just be with him. But you gave more. You let him touch you like he wanted. Hands, which were often covered with scarlet liquid, touched you without stopping. You made him feel very human. As if he did not murder without thinking. As if he wasn't the monster that does the worst job.

You were so good and innocent to him. He could never let you go. Since you chose him, you have to stay with him. For ever. You'll be there for him all the time. Day after day. Every second. Every year. Until you die together. His girl.

You are with him now, you will always be.

That's why he started to keep you at home. He would close the door every time he left. He even took your keys. He wouldn't let you out of bed while you slept with him.

Various things started to appear around the house. He had different tendencies. Even handcuffs and chains. Nobody complained...

He was even at home more often. Every time your phone started ringing, it would reject the call. Oddly enough, he didn't care how you felt about it. Later, he just pulled you closer to him. So that you can lie on it and rest.

He ended up forbidding you to go out at one point. Fully. Your phone disappeared and also cut off your ability to communicate over the Internet. He deleted everything on your laptop that might have made you text someone. It has become too strange for you. He never acted like that.

And when he came back home, he was smiling and eager to hang out. Even when he was tired. He just needed to keep you with him.

When he came back after half a day away from home, you once dared to ask what happened to him.

"Toji? We can talk?" you asked while sitting on the couch while you were playing with the TV remote control. You just turned it off so that it doesn't distract you from reaching your goal.

"Yeah? What you need?" He asked.

His face was smiling again. You always pay attention to his scar. I've always wondered how it came into being. But you never asked. He probably wouldn't have replied with something like a cat attacked him. However, it gave him manhood. This finally made Toji. Toji had different hallmarks, but it was something everyone saw. After all, he doesn't hide his face.

"I mean what is happening..." You answered without meeting his eyes.

"What's happening? Tch... As for I'm coming back with a weapon that's not sheathed... It's their problem if they watch."

"No... That's not the point..."

"It is then, hurry up and tell me." he said, taking off his shirt to get changed.

"Why are you keeping me here??" you asked, but quickly started to say something else as he looked at you seriously. "This... I mean... That I haven't been going anywhere for a long time. Because..."

„Because you don't let me” that's what you wanted to say. But you held back.

"(y/n). Do you think I'm doing right to lock you up here?" he asked, grabbing a clean T-shirt from the cupboard.

"It's..."

"Tell me honestly if you think it's wrong?" walked up to you standing behind you. You could literally feel how warm it is.

"Toji–"

"Answer me." He bent down and put his hand to one side of your neck. Your heart sped up as he touched you, but you grew hotter as he ran his lips down your neck. His teeth hooked against your skin as he waited for your response.

When it didn't come, he gritted his teeth.

You let out a soft exhale from the sudden pain.

"It's– I don't know..." you said tangling your fingers in his black hair.

"So if you don't know why you ask me why?" he laughed.

Suddenly you broke free from his grasp and stood up.

In front of him, you shook your head at his charm.

"No. I'm serious. Why are you locking me up here?" you asked again.

"Why do you ask?" He ask, frowned slightly.

"So suddenly you started to turn me away from other people."

He always had his urge to keep you with him. He was jealous as hell sometimes. But he was passable. And now, he's become so controlling. His behavior hurt you.

"You go out everywhere. And I... I can't go anywhere." you growled clenching your hands.

"You really think this is unfair? Don't piss me off, okay? You are the kind of person who should just be trying to behave." He said.

"What am I pissing you off? Answer me yourself. What have I done to you to make you treat me like that??!" You yelled at him.

You saw his jaw tighten.

"Go to the room..." he said, placing his hand on his temple and closed his eyes.

"Why? I won't just walk between the living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom! I want to go out too!"

"...(y/n)..." He growled your name and you saw his muscles tense.

"Now you listen to me! You're gonna stay home, and I'm leaving now. I'm leaving whether you like it or not. Do you get it I don't want to live locked up all the time!"

As you turned around, you started walking towards the exit door. You clearly felt his eyes following you. You grabbed your things and opened the door. You felt a sudden relief when you stepped out of the door. But you also felt bad for treating Toji this way.

Thought he deserved something like this. Nobody should stop you from going out. He should understand that you also have your own mind.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but as you walked on, a hand appeared on your shoulder.

You turned to look at Toji. He seemed furious.

Before you could say anything, he dragged you into the apartment, closing the door behind him. Door hit the frame very loudly.

"What are you–?!!"

You weren't done and in the blink of an eye you were thrown onto the bed. Heard the clink of metal and noticed him grabbing your wrist, eager to put it in handcuffs. You tried to break free from his grip, but it was for nothing. He finally managed to put your wrist into the metal, and he tightened, then did the same to the back of the bed. Then he closed it and checked again that it was well closed.

"You! Open it! Free me!" you screamed as you tugged at the metal with your other hand.

"Shhh... Be quiet." he put his finger to your lips before placing his lips on yours. Then he left.

When he came back you wanted to scream, but shut up when he showed the little blade in his hand.

"Toji... Toji please, you're scaring me. Stop!" You screamed as he toyed with the knife against your skin. He grabbed your free wrist, immobilizing it.

"Don't you wanna be mine? 'Cause if you're not mine, you won't be anyone."

"Toji..." You groaned lightly tugging the handcuffs with which he chained you to the bed.

"How long do you think I can persuade you to do this huh?" he moved closer, until he crouched down next to the bed. You pulled a bit away from him, but you were stopped by big hands on your thighs. It is the warmth that emanated from them. It reassured you so much. But you know it can't really be like that. You can't calm down like that right now. Not now that he is like that. You have no idea what happened.

You watched as his smile grew and his eyes fell on yours.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you. But if you don't give me a choice, I have to do something about it." he said, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

His touch burned like real fire. Even though he was so soothing, you knew he was your horror.

"And? You want to be mine? I'll give you a choice. Just this one time. Your life will depend on what you choose." he muttered, leaning on his elbow on the bed. His other hand caressing your skin tenderly." What you want?"

"I..."

"I think you don't need time to think. Yes or no." Suddenly a small blade appeared at your neck. That's what you hated about Toji. He always had something dangerous with him.

Sure you love him. But this...

...This is really an exaggeration...

"Do you still want to go somewhere? Go ahead. You can. But that means your answer is no. And you know what it will be for you..." he said as he pulled the knife up over your hand, cutting the skin very lightly.

"T-Toji..." tears filled your eyes as the blade was closer to your face.

"Answer me, sweetheart. You're mine or not." He said, smiling madly.

You love him. But it... this... This is terrible.

You can choose. You can do it. You don't want to leave him. You want to live You don't want to die. Not now.

"I am waiting..." groaned, moving the knife lower and lower until he touched the collarbone and made a wound from which blood was flowing. "Answer me before I get impatient and make my choice."

You suddenly widened your eyes.

Could he kill you?

He doesn't love you?

Will he kill you or move the knife away?

Curiosity was eating you up inside, but you just couldn't let it go.

Words couldn't leave your mouth as the cold metal touched your neck. Otherwise the sob would be the first he would hear.

"Yes or no, sweetheart." he muttered, humming at the sight of warm blood trickling down your body.

Unable to speak, you just moved your head.

"Good girl. You will not regret this choice."

The knife was forgotten as it landed a little further on the bed, and its lips pressed against yours. Your tears have been wiped away, but you know there will be many more.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Wrap me up in your love

AN: Hey babies! Are your panties ready for day two? Take a deeper look at your relationship with Frank Castle following the events of It can't rain all the time. (It isn’t necessary to read this first.) I'm using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Beta'd by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me. Pictures of rope ties from www.theduchy.com.

N.B. Rope play should only be carried out by those who know what they are doing.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Pairing: SoftDom!Frank Castle x Reader (Established relationship)

CW: Competence Kink, Rope play (Shibari), mentions of previous SA and trauma, Subspace, minor descriptions of smut, allusions to smut, kink as a coping mechanism.

Word Count: 2.1k

It had all started innocently enough. Or at least as innocently as a love affair with a vigilante can be.

He’d helped you heal in so many ways, first by being your friend and helping you learn to trust men again, then dealing with your douche-bag ex and becoming your lover. A lover like none you’d had before. For a man so big, so rough looking and scarred, he was unbelievably caring and gentle. You could tell he reigned himself in, and from the very start let you set the pace.

He always checked that whatever he was doing was okay with you, giving you time to consider and respond. It never failed to make him smile when you responded with an enthusiastic yes, when you were feral for him, attacking his lips and pulling off his clothes.

You still had your moments though, moments where you were trapped in your head, reliving what your ex had done to you and you couldn’t bear to be touched. Frank would just lie next to you on the bed, soothing you with his deep voice, as he read aloud from a book or sang along to the radio, until you were ready to hold him again.

And that need to be soothed without touch partly explained why you were where you were now, but not fully. No, the rest of it had to do with just how Frank was. You’d barely noticed at first, but when you were at his, just watching TV or existing in each other’s presence, you’d find yourself drawn to watching him. 

You knew who he was, what he did. It should frighten you, but it didn’t; you’d never be a target of his ire. And because you were both comfortable together he’d often do checks on his equipment in front of you. Sharpening his knives, cleaning and checking his modest assortment of firearms. Checking his ropes.

Frank would gently run his fingers along the twisted fibres, checking for weak points - I can’t have the person I'm interrogating breaking free now, can I? - before coiling it up so it wouldn’t tangle. Sometimes, if he got distracted by what was on the TV he’d end up looping and knotting the rope, then pulling it all free and starting again. It was mesmerising.

Then, one day, Frank noticed you watching. His plump lips twitched up into a smile.

“Like the look of the ropes then, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks had burned in embarrassment, but luckily Frank knew not to tease you too hard and let it drop. 

But you still watched him. 

And he knew you were doing so.

You didn’t like to be held down during sex, it brought back too many bad memories. The pair of you had tested it before, but as soon as Frank’s large, gentle hand had pinned your wrists, his body pressed heavily to yours, you’d had to call a halt. 

But ropes, they’d be different, wouldn’t they?

Frank had just smiled when you’d brought it up, stammering out your words, and then suggested trying it out in stages. First he just had you sit next to him on the sofa, watching your favourite film, with the rope around one wrist.

The next time, you sat with your hands in your lap, both hands in a handcuff tie. It was nice. 

Frank had held the tail ends of the rope, and the plaited fabric felt like a tether to him, stopping you from floating away.

The big test came when you asked him to bind one wrist to his headboard. He kept checking on you, but you were gone, allowing yourself to sink into your pleasure. 

Letting go. 

Giving him control.

You came harder than you thought you’d ever had. The very next day you asked him to bind both wrists.

You researched rope play, especially Shibari, watching videos and looking at the way the ropes and different knots lay against skin, and you thought it beautiful. You asked Frank to do more intricate rope work, admiring the way it looked and loving the way it made you feel, and he indulged you with a smile. Whenever you felt the soft compression of the ropes you felt a calmness suffuse you; all the world and its problems went away.

When your lover trussed you up in complex and artful knots, your arms lovingly pinned behind you, your lower legs bound to your thighs, leaving you open, you didn’t feel vulnerable. You felt worshipped, as though you had been turned into a venerated work of art, especially as Frank made love to you, sliding slowly in and out of you, reducing you to quiet pants and moans as he praised you, kissed your skin. The way you dropped into sub space under his care and affection was a hereto unknown and you relished the soft, fuzzy feeling of contentment.

And it was this feeling that explained why you were where you were now.

It had been a BADTM day. The smell of a man’s cologne on the way into work reminded you too much of Charles, and then the subway was crowded, people hemming you in and pressing against you, heightening your anxiety. Then work itself. 

You’d struggled to find a job due to the gap in your employment history during your marriage, but you’d managed to find work doing basic data entry. Unfortunately, that meant spending your working day with others who either didn’t care about the job and were using it as a stepping stone, or those who were stuck in a dead-end job due to idiocy or narcissism. Your boss was one of the latter. 

A new pile of work was waiting for you, covered with sticky notes bearing his spider-like scrawl telling you that there was an impossible time limit for getting them all processed in. Then Brian spilled his coffee all over your desk when he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going (too busy staring at Meghan’s breasts) and then your, frankly pathetic, tuna sandwich lunch went missing from the fridge.

 The journey home was just as bad; you were certain that the touch you’d felt on your ass as you were jostled around in the subway car wasn’t accidental, especially given the facial expression of the man behind you when you turned your head. By the time you made it to your and Frank’s apartment building you were almost jogging, feeling the bile rising in your throat. 

Upon reaching your floor, you by-passed your own door, letting yourself into Frank’s with his spare key, kicking off your shoes and shucking your coat. You moved quickly into the lounge and threw yourself onto Frank’s lap. He let out a small grunt of surprise before smiling up at you broadly. However, his smile faltered when he saw your expression. His hand came up to cup your cheek, but you shuddered away, your skin crawling.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up? Bad day?”

Biting your lower lip, your eyelids fluttered closed and your fists tightened in the fabric of Frank’s t-shirt. You managed to nod, fighting the tears trying to escape your eyes.

“Let’s move to the bed then, yeah, get you all tucked up and we can talk, okay?”

“No.”

“No? What can I do to help you then?”

You drew in a ragged breath, followed by another, before stammering out your answer.

“I…I want you to tie me up. Please. Tie me up and help me not think.”

Forcing your eyes open, you observed Frank’s expression, but given who he was and what he did, he gave nothing of his own thoughts away. He was totally focussed on you.

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

“Please, Frank. Please.”

He looked at you for a few more seconds, trying to get a proper read on your emotional state, before shifting under you.

“Okay, up you get.” 

You started to walk on shaky legs towards his bedroom, before you realised he wasn’t heading that way; he was heading towards his spare room, the room where he kept his ‘work’ items. You quickened your step to keep up, your arms wrapped around your body trying to soothe yourself.

Frank clicked on the desk lamp, casting a soft glow around the room. It was a sterile looking place, full of crates and metal cupboards. It was obvious what was in this room, even if none of it could be seen. You stood, awkwardly, in the doorway, still worrying your lower lip, and watched as Frank opened a drawer and lifted out two carefully wound hanks of rope.

He turned to face you, expression still unreadable, and started to unwind the first hank, preparing to find the bight.

“Strip, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

You slowly removed your work clothes, and with each piece you took off and placed carefully on Frank’s desk, you felt the stains on your soul being removed as well. Fully naked and unashamed, you walked closer to Frank as he observed you.

“Arms. Clasp your wrists.”

You let out a sigh as Frank started to wrap the first rope. He wound it around your arms, across your chest, both above and below your breasts and over your shoulders.

“Wiggle your fingers for me, sweetheart and give me a colour.”

You tested the feeling in your fingers.

“Green, Frank.”

He moved to stand in front of you and a smile tugged at his lips.

“There’s my good girl. Okay, beautiful, spread your legs slightly.”

Frank continued to bind you, ropes wrapping around your waist and thighs, criss-crossed together. After checking that you were comfortable, Frank left you standing while he got some more rope and some carabiners out of his drawer. The confusion must have shown in your face because your lover caught your gaze and then jerked his head up towards the ceiling. You looked up, and that’s when you saw it, the hard point installed in the ceiling. Your eyes went wide and you rocked slightly on your heels.

“You with me, sweetheart? What’s your colour?”

“Still green, Frank.”

His smile grew wider and you watched him deftly run the ropes through the loop of the hard point. A few ties of the suspension rope and he motioned you to turn around. You felt him attach more rope to the harnesses he’d tied around you and heard the click of the carabiners. Then, with a tug, the slack was taken up, and almost all your weight was taken off your feet, although they were still touching the floor.

“Let the ropes take your weight, baby. Let them hug you for me. You look beautiful like this.”

You closed your eyes and let the tension leave your body as you felt the pressure of the ropes against your skin, the bamboo silk embrace. You were vaguely aware of Frank walking out of the room and then returning a few moments later, his chair creaking as he sat down. The swish of paper and then Frank’s low baritone voice filled the quiet of the space.

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.”

You smiled and floated away.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you doing?”

You opened your eyes and they slowly focused on Frank’s face.

“Good…” you giggled a bit, still holding onto the cloudy tendrils caressing your mind. He brought his hand up to cup your face and you pressed into it, enjoying the slight roughness of it, along with the warmth.

“I’m glad. Now, open up.” He pressed something up to your lips and you opened them, accepting the square of dark chocolate onto your tongue. Once you’d chewed and swallowed it, Frank held a bottle of water to your lips and you gulped down a few mouthfuls.

“Alright. Let’s get you released from all this, huh?”

“No!” Your outburst even stunned you.

Frank stopped, mid-step on his way to move behind you and raised an eyebrow.

“No? You really shouldn’t be trussed up like this for much longer you know.”

“I know. But before you untie me, before you let me down, please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me, Frank. I need to feel you.”

The feared vigilante let out a gruff chuckle before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“Well, whatever my sweetheart wants, she gets.”

His lips captured yours as he pulled your legs up around his waist.

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[matchablossomhcs]

ok so y’all know that scene in ep1 where kaoru receives that suitcase full of cash 

i was rewatching the dub, and kojiro refers to kaoru’s calligraphy as a “side hustle”. all the tech shit has to cost a lot of money, and while i don’t know shit about traditional calligraphy, i don’t know if it really pays all that well? 

when i mentioned the suitcase of money to a friend, the instant reply i got was “drugs”.

and listen, i’m not saying it makes sense, but that’s kinda what i’m saying.

we know kaoru had this whole “bad boy” thing going on in high school. now, stereotypically, that is a “delinquent” thing to do, with all the piercings, and for the sake of this hc let’s slap the skating at night and running away from the police in there too. he might’ve gotten roped into some yakuza gig back then and kinda kept going? not to mention that S is technically illegal and very hush-hush. 

with this evidence i present to you:

the reason for why kaoru always wears yukatas is to cover a huge tattoo of a cherry blossom tree on his back. 

he got kojiro into motorbikes back in high school, and both have altering and modifying their bikes as a hobby.

kaoru got his piercings because he liked them, and once he was old enough, he got the cherry blossom tattoo. kojiro was hesitant to the tattoo idea, but he ended up getting the sun on his shoulder a week later. kaoru had to hold his hand during the entire process.

the cherry blossom tree tattoo has kojiro’s sun incorporated somewhere in the design.

because of kaoru’s lowkey celebrity status, no one really questions where he gets his money from. he seems too upstanding and traditional (and lowkey uptight) to be involved in any sort of law-breaking. 

kojiro knew about kaoru’s involvement with shady stuff from the very beginning, but never tried to stop him; he trusted kaoru’s judgement. heck, he bulked up to seem scary and intimidating and pretended to be kaoru’s bodyguard on several occasions (not that kaoru needs a bodyguard. he can kick anyone’s ass anytime).

kaoru prefers hand-to-hand combat over firearms. he calls guns “vulgar” and dislikes their “lack of elegance”.

kojiro doesn’t mind the guns and he owns one just in case, but he prefers knives. spot him with that chef’s knife bag anytime he’s out with kaoru on official business.

kaoru doesn’t want to endanger kojiro by officially taking him in as a member of his group, but kojiro’s got the status of “boss’ lady” among the members, and everyone know better than to question him.