#i can be trusted with firearms and knives

[ichxgo]

He snorts, fingers still curled loosely in Shiro’s, though they flex just for the feel of it. “Shame. I bet they’d look good on you.” But honestly, so would a regular pair. His gaze flicks to Shiro again as he laughs. Even sleep-starved and buzzed, he’s somehow still stupidly gorgeous. It makes something twist under Ichigo’s ribs, sharp and warm. If Ichigo were any less fucked up, he’d be testing the tensile strength of Shiro’s drywall right about now. But he is, so he shrugs, looking away. “I don’t need something every night like I used to. But sometimes.” 

Still, he wants to see Shiro’s cache. Wants to know where everything is in case things ever go sideways. “I should bring some of mine,” he adds, a little quieter. Like maybe he’s testing how that sounds in the air between them. Testing how much permission he has to make his own space here. If Shiro’s letting him stay, he should bring more than just the essentials that guy is picking up. 

“You didn’t get me in a bed.” His mouth twitches. “You got me against an air conditioner. Then a table. Then the floor? Or was it the couch. Think the bed was maybe the fourth stop.” He rolls his eyes, fond despite himself. “Either way, they’re not straight after you’re done with them.” His eyes cut back to Shiro, drawn like a magnet. He wants. Wants so bad it feels like something unraveling inside him. “Shit. Okay.” He might pass out mid attempt, but he’s game.

“You’re not her type. That’s missing the point. If I was worried about Yoruichi, I’d start digging my own grave.” He huffs a soft breath that might be a laugh. “She’d make me dig it. She hunts for sport.” 

Ichigo walks in first, slow and deliberate. Not just from pain, but from watching Shiro. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just takes in the room. Sleek, quiet, expensive. He drifts toward the bed, one hand trailing along the sharp line of a side table as he passes it, just enough contact to balance himself without looking like he needs it. “Have your guy bring my toothbrush.” Said as he crawls into the bed, sinks into it, barely getting the covers back before he’s down and barely caring. Once his head is on that pillow, gravity tugs at his eyes twice as heavy. 

He opens his mouth, just about to try coaxing Shiro in with him when the phone goes off.

“Fuck’s sake.” He curses into the pillow. He makes the effort to sit, gets about halfway there, and gives up. “Her?” If it’s not Yoruichi, he’s going to be out. Ten seconds, max.

He huffs a skeptical laugh. "At my party where I'm the center of attention?" Obviously they were going to get noticed. Anyone fucking that hard would have, but especially them. He scoffs, but good natured. "I think I make more money than a pornstar, if that's what you're gettin' at." Better sex, too, since it's real.

"Yeah, I know." And he's always willingly spent it on Ichigo anyway. It's not going to change. "I got brass knuckles, just without the diamonds. Sometimes you just gotta fuck someone up good." He shrugs. "That was new. Got it just for this occasion 'cause it seemed like a good thing to have." A short laugh, "My stash wouldn't interest you, but I'll show you my hardware collection sometime. It's not that impressive. I'm sure yours is better."

He arches a brow, a little surprised by how much it seems like Ichigo is threatened by this woman. He's not sure he's ever seen Ichigo be this possessive of him towards someone else. It makes her that much more fascinating. "Are you referring to when I first got you into my bed? But mostly is doin' a lot of work for your argument. I've never slept with a woman." At least to the best of his knowledge. He's been pretty fucked up a few times. "Besides. I'm probably not her type. Ladies don't tend to be interested in me, probably 'cause I'm really open about trying to get with their guy friends." Not because he's not attractive enough, that's just crazy. Then a sly grin spreads across his face and he leans a little closer. "If you're really that worried, I'll let you stick your dick in me while she's here, just to mark your territory, y' know, let her know I'm yours."

Ichigo knows him well. "That's true." He does love being fawned over and desired. His point still stands, he thinks. It's all habit.

The way Ichigo takes his hand makes his heart stutter for a second. Which is stupid. Holding hands?? Come on. This is the most innocent thing he's done in years. This is grade school. But it feels important in its innocence. The little things always feel like they matter with Ichigo. He guides them down the hall, stopping in front of his bedroom. The door is already open, there isn't much reason to keep it closed if no one is here but him, but he pauses to let Ichigo in first anyway. The bed is made, which isn't his doing but rather the lady he has come over once a week to clean the place for him. It's just proof he hasn't been to bed in a while. The curtains are open too, and the room is clean.

[ananyako02]

I always get strange thoughts in my head at night…I think of thirty-six-year-old Simon, who rescued an eighteen-year-old young bird during the zombie apocalypse and fell in love with her.

Part 1.

God, her eyes. Big and blue and trusting, gazing up at him like he hung the moon. It made his chest ache in ways. He wasn't ready for this. Clearing his throat, he busied himself gathering supplies from the cupboards: bottled water, protein bars, and a first aid kit.

«Here, eat something». Simon said, holding out her snack. «And drink plenty of water. Dehydration's a killer here»

«Thank you». Says the young girl in her thin and affectionate voice, taking a bite of her food.

Fuck, her voice…like honey that dripped pleasantly off a spoon and that wanted to eat so badly. The sound of her sweet voice hit him right in the groin, awakening feelings he shouldn't be feeling. Not now, not ever. She was too pure, too untouched by the ugliness of this world. He couldn't risk corrupting that.

«No problem». Simon said, turning away to hide the effect she was having on him.

Determined to distract himself, he began checking the weapons he kept in the cabin. There was a hunting rifle mounted above the fireplace, along with a collection of handguns and knives. Plenty of firepower to keep them safe. «Can you shoot?». Simon asked suddenly, glancing at the young bird sitting on the bed.

She shakes her head, her cheeks flushing pink. «N-no… I've never held a weapon before…». She shamefully admits in her sweet voice, feeling weak and useless.

Of course, it's obvious. Sweet little girls like her don't know how to handle firearms. «That's alright». He assured her, setting aside the weapons. «We'll teach you tomorrow. For now, just try to get some rest».

He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over her shoulders, his fingers lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary on the smooth curve of her shoulder. Damn it. He understood that if he didn't get away from her soon, he was going to do something stupid. «Bathroom's through there if you need it». He nodded toward a closed door, already slowly backing away from her bed.

And with that, he fled to the relative safety of the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind him with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary. Leaning his forehead against the wood, he exhaled heavily, trying to will away the tension thrumming through his veins. Get it together, Ghost. She's just a kid. A traumatized, vulnerable kid who needs protection, not perving.

Sleep eluded him for hours. Too many thoughts swirling in his mind, too much adrenaline still coursing through his system. Gritting his teeth, he retrieved his sleeping bag from a nearby closet and laid it out on the floor. As he settled, his last coherent thought was of big blue eyes and soft pink lips. Then, mercifully, oblivion claimed him.

The cry of a young bird instantly woke him up. Heart hammering, he scrambled to his feet and lunged for the bedroom door, nearly tripping over his own boots in his haste. Throwing it open, he rushed to the bed where she lay thrashing and sobbing. «Easy, easy!». He soothed, grabbing her flailing arms. «You're safe. It's just a nightmare».

Her eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, pupils blown wide with terror. Ghost swallowed hard at the sight, his own pulse racing in sympathy. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and she immediately pressed herself against him, resting her face against his chest.

«T-they…they were everywhere…and I-I couldn't…couldn't run…». His heart shattered at her anguished confession. Poor baby. To be hunted, pursued, helpless against the tide of death… He understood better than anyone the psychological toll such experiences took.

He gently sat her in his lap, stroking her hair in slow, soothing strokes. «They won't hurt you. I won't let them».

One hand drifted lower to rub comforting circles across her back, feeling the tremors gradually begin to subside. Fuck, she smelled divine. Smelled of innocence. Dangerous. With effort, he focused on calming her rather than indulging base urges.

Her eyes, like twin pools of liquid sapphire, looked at him with gratitude. He swallowed convulsively. He fought the urge to lean in and capture her plush lips. «Now try to get some more sleep, okay? I'll be right here if you need me».

Reluctantly, he shifted to guide her back onto the pillows. Watching her fall asleep again, he exhaled, not even realizing he was lingering next to her. Slowly, carefully, he got off the bed and walked back to his makeshift bed on the floor.

Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to will away the persistent ache in his groin. This was bad. So very bad. Because despite all his best intentions, he knew one thing for certain - he was falling fast and hard in love with the delicate creature in his care. And that scared him more than any zombie horde ever could.

Part 2.

[moonyskarma]

ENTERING THE S.H.I.E.L.D. DATABASE . . .

loading . . .

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WELCOME TO THE S.H.I.E.L.D PERSONNEL DATABASE. CONTINUE?

﹥﹥ YES.

AGENT: Apollo ▇▇▇ ALIAS: Karma ABILITIES:

UMBRAL CONJURATION — Agent ▇▇▇ possesses the ability to manipulate both existing and created shadows. These shadow apparitions defy physical interference and cannot be affected by blade, bullet, or shield.

METAMORPHIC RECONFIGURATION — Wields the ability to alter minute aspects of corporeal identity—voice, facial structure, eye hue, gait, and in extreme circumstances, even the very composition of his fingertips to avoid biometric detection.

MNEMONIC INVASION — By touching two fingers to each temple, Agent ▇▇▇ may access the memoryscape of others, provided mutual trust exists between both parties. He is able to navigate their memories as if perusing through a gallery. (Ability used for intel confirmation.)

MARTIAL POLYMATH — Master of both armed and unarmed combat. Physical attributed exceed baseline human limitations—stamina, flexibility, reaction time. • Bladed weaponry (knives, daggers, short-range projectiles) • Firearms & precision shooting • Archery • Memorization & replication of any combat style after brief observation

OMNIPOTENCE — Agent ▇▇▇ exhibits flawless instinctual strategy and natural capacity for decision-making under extreme pressure. Should mission parameters shift, he adapts.

VOCAL & BEHAVIORAL MIMICRY — Able to replicate cadences, voices, and physical nuances with unsettling accuracy. (Ability used for infiltration, deception, & manipulation)

SUBLIME INFLUENCE — Agent ▇▇▇ commands attention with presence alone; influence is subtle, often imperceptible. Subjects frequently follow directives before realizing they've received them. (WARNING: Effects may bypass conscious resistance. Prolonged exposure can cause psychological disorientation or unintended compliance in teammates and targets alike.)

image credit & inspired by : @rosebudshifter <3

why is my surname redacted ??? you'll find out very soon (aka whenever i have the time to make an intro </3)

. . . back to the circus 🎪

[sv3t1ana]

<< Master list ⋮ Next chapter >>

SYNOPSIS ᯓ A Bonnie and Clyde-esque, high-stakes, multi-chapter smut romance that follows a deadly criminal duo whose intense, chaotic love becomes as dangerous as the heists they pull off. Trust forged in blood, bonds built on risk.

PAIRING ᯓ Criminal! Sukuna x Criminal! Fem. Reader

WARNINGS ᯓ protective!Sukuna, things are SHIFTING!!!, mentions of death, FLUFF, mentions of weapons

WORD COUNT ᯓ 1.6k (sorry - heist next chap)

Chapter 7.

You wake up in the kind of silence that feels unnatural.

It’s strange, getting dreamless rest lately and having full nights of sleep, the kind you haven’t had in years. Maybe it’s the exhaustion catching up with you. Or maybe it’s something shifting in the world.

Sukuna mutters something about more prep work, and like always you roll your eyes at him before getting ready.

The next thing you know, you’re in passenger, the road stretching endlessly before you. Sukuna drives with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming idly against his thigh. The early afternoon sun glares against the windshield, streets quiet. Dead. No traffic, no pedestrians, just empty roads and the occasional stray dog sniffing at overturned trash bins. The kind of eerie stillness that makes you hyperaware of the weight of what you’re about to do.

You’re not knocking over a convenience store this time.

The safehouse comes into view, a rundown, abandoned-looking structure, rusted metal and cracked concrete. Sukuna pulls into the gravel lot, tires crunching as he kills the engine. As you go to open the door and step out, his voice stops you.

“Stay behind me.”

It’s not a suggestion.

He approaches the heavy metal door, knocking twice, then once more before it cracks open.

A man walks out, broad-shouldered, inked-up, and wearing a stained wife-beater. He looks like someone who’s seen more than his fair share of bloodshed. A half-smoked cigar rests between his fingers, the embers flaring as he exhales slow. His eyes flick to you before settling on Sukuna.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Sukuna grins, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a thick envelope of cash. “Yeah, yeah. You know I like to keep things exciting.”

The man peels back the flap, thumbs skimming the stacks of cash before nodding toward the staircase leading to the basement. “Same rules.”

The descent is dim, air thick with gunpowder. Bulbs hang loosely from the ceiling, barely illuminating the underground space, but even in the dim light, you can still see the arsenal lining the walls.

Rows of firearms, assault rifles, shotguns, compact pistols, anything and everything. Silencers reside beside neatly arranged magazines. Machetes and combat knives hanging in display, some pristine and others stained from use. A whole selection is dedicated to explosives, thermite charges, RDX bricks, and plastic explosives.

You drag your fingers along the edge of a semi-automatic pistol. Sukuna watches, arms crossed.

“Cute,” he muses, taking it out of your grasp and sliding over a SIG MCX .300 blackout. “Hope you weren’t expecting to scare anyone with that pea shooter.”

You pick up the assault rifle, flipping it over in your hands. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to carry something else? Maybe a fucking bazooka?”

Walking over to place your primary weapon and sidearms in the bag, you eye the box of armor sitting in the corner.

You toss him a vest. He catches it effortlessly, looking at you.

“Try not to get shot,” you say dryly. “Would be a shame to lose that pretty face.”

His grins sharpens. “You checkin’ me out, doll?”

You scoff but your face feels warm. You turn back to the shelves, fingers brushing over the cold metal of a C4 charge before picking it up. Grabbing the detonator, you set both into the bag.

The room is silent except for the sound of bullets clicking into magazines, a steady, meditative rhythm.

You’ve never been one to trust easily. Hell, you spent most of your life keeping people at arm’s length and watching your own back because no one else would. But here you are, standing across from Sukuna in a dimly lit armory, loading up for the biggest job of your life. And you realize, you’re not watching your own back. Because he’s watching it for you.

It’s not in the way he says things, because he isn’t the type to lay it out in words. It’s in the things he does, how he stands too close when you’re out in public, body angled ever so slightly in front of yours, scanning the crowd with sharp eyes. The way his fingers find your arm when you’re moving through tight spaces, guiding you without a word. How he never lets you walk on the side of the street closest to traffic, making you take the bed in the motel furthest from the door. Small things, quiet things. Enough that when you notice, your chest tightens with something foreign.

He’s focused, oblivious to the way your gaze lingers. His shirt stretches too tight over his arms, muscles flexing with every movement as he loads and unloads each magazine. Testing, counting. Like this is just another day. Like this isn’t the moment everything changes.

You first heard about him the way everyone did, through blood-soaked headlines and urgent news bulletins. His name wasn’t only whispered in the underworld, but broadcasted and stamped in bold letters across the country, a warning to the weak and an invitation to the reckless.

“Authorities urge civilians to report any sighting – Ryomen Sukuna remains highly dangerous.”

You remember sitting in a dingy apartment, one you got lucky to score that still had electricity. It was a high-stakes heist turned slaughter. A vault emptied in under five minutes. Two security guards executed, their bodies found lined up like offerings. A police shootout on the freeway that left cars flipped and burning, insides scorched beyond recognition.

Back then he was a ghost, a nightmare. The kind of criminal whose legend outweighed the truth, whose crimes bled into folklore until no one knew what was real anymore. Some said he carved a trail of bodies through every job, never leaving loose ends. Others swore he had inside men in the police, slipping through cracks like smoke.

You remember thinking to yourself, what a crazy bastard.

You weren’t afraid. Never afraid. More intrigued that he was out there, running circles around the same law enforcement that had their boot on your neck since the day you held a stolen wallet. But Sukuna didn’t just survive, he thrived. Tearing through the system like it was his for the taking.

That was nearly two years ago, and you never thought your path would cross his. Never thought you’d be here, preparing for a job he invited you on, loading magazines for something that will put both your faces on every goddamn screen in the city.

You look at him again, how his fingers move with precision over the rifle on the table, a scar cutting through his knuckles like a jagged promise.

Infamous fugitive. Highly dangerous.

You smile. They have no fucking idea.

The motel room is dimly lit, cheap walls muffling faint traffic from outside. Dinner was a quiet affair, takeout from a run-down ramen joint Sukuna claimed was “the only decent shit in this city.” You weren’t about to argue, especially when the broth was rich, noodles thick.

Things settled down. Plans were scribbled, checked. The weight of the heist pressed a little less, and he was knocked out cold.

He lay sprawled across the mattress, shoes still on, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Planning a bank heist from the ground up wasn’t exactly light work, but you’d never seen it wear on him like this. His head was tilted slightly to the side, pink hair an absolute mess from the way he kept running sweaty fingers through it earlier, too stressed to care. The sharp cut of his jawline softened under lamplight, the blank ink of his tattoos standing out stark against his skin. They looked fresh, even though you knew they weren’t.

You watched him, fingers tapping against your thigh. This was him without the hard edge, the razor-sharp smirk, the cocky bite of his words. He looked so unguarded.

Your lips curled into something wicked, sliding your phone from your back pocket. You bite your bottom lip to stifle a laughter as you pressed the button.

Click.

He shifted at the sound, brow twitching, but didn’t wake.

You stepped back, pressing a hand over your mouth as you stared at the photo. Blurry but unmistakable. The infamous Sukuna, all terrifying and bloodstained, dead to the world with his lips parted in sleep.

About an hour later, he stirred.

You were fresh out of the shower, towel-dried hair damp against your shoulders, sitting cross-legged on the bed, notes and scrawled out plans scattered in front of you. Your concentration broke when you noticed his movement, pushing himself upright at the edge of the bed, slow blinks of sleep dragging his expression.

You smiled, reaching for your phone and clicking it on before turning it to him. The lockscreen lit up, showing his face, relaxed, peaceful, utterly defenseless in sleep.

His gaze sharpened instantly.

“The fuck is this?” His voice rough with sleep, immediately irritated. “You got a thing for creepy shit like this?”

You leaned back, absolutely delighted at his reaction.

“What? It’s a nice picture. Thought I’d keep it for good luck.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, something between a scoff and a growl. His eyes cut back to you, narrowing like he was internally debating whether to be actually pissed or not. You didn’t miss the twitch at the corner of his mouth, the smirk he was trying, and failing, to bite back.

“I don’t need some pathetic picture to keep me around.” His voice dropped. “You really that stupid?”

It was rhetorical.

Before you could come up with a comeback, he flicked your forehead, shoving himself off the bed, and making his way to the bathroom.

You grinned after him, thumb absently tracing over the edge of your phone.

taglist: @cutesytwt, @tojis-ball-sack, @gojoscumslut, @sukubusss, @vicravluv, @newasskid, @grignardsreagent, @garden0fyves

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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

[sidecrime]

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ( boyd holdbrook ) ** i would be willing to let someone else write him**

BASIC INFORMATION full name: cassian vance nickname(s): the silver wolf / sometimes they call him alpha age: 38 height: 6’2” ethnicity: caucasian (northern european features, sharp and chiseled) eye color: ice-blue (cold, piercing gaze) hair: ash-blond, streaked with premature silver at the temples occupation: leader of the wolf pack (a powerful criminal syndicate in gotham's underground) DISTINGUISHED MARKS › wolf’s head tattoo on his left shoulder, a symbol of his leadership. › a a deep scar running from his collarbone to his ribs, from an old betrayal

PERSONALITY & TRAITS mbti: intj (the mastermind) enneagram: type 8 (the challenger) temperament: calculating, ruthless, and deeply strategic. cassian exudes quiet authority and commands absolute loyalty. he is not easily provoked, but when he strikes, it’s with precision and finality. beneath his composed exterior, however, is a man who has clawed his way out of nothing, and he never forgets where he came from.mannerisms: speaks in a slow, deliberate manner, making people hang on his words. when deep in thought, he rubs a silver ring on his index finger—a habit from his youth. never raises his voice; his quiet disapproval is far more terrifying. has an unsettling ability to maintain eye contact for long periods without blinking. CORE TRAITS ✅ strategic thinker. always five moves ahead, he sees every interaction as a game of chess. ✅ commanding presence. his mere presence demands respect, and his reputation keeps people in line. ✅ loyal to his own. if you belong to his pack, he will bleed for you. but loyalty is a two-way street. ❌ merciless. cassian does not tolerate weakness or betrayal — there are no second chances. ❌ obsessive control. trusts no one completely, and refuses to let any situation get beyond his grasp ❌ detached. keeps his emotions tightly controlled, making it difficult for anyone to truly know him.

BACKGROUND & HISTORY› cassian grew up in gotham’s brutal underground, a street rat who learned quickly that power belonged to those willing to take it. by the time he was 20, he had already established himself as a key player in the city’s criminal web. › the wolf pack was once a fractured group of mercenaries, smugglers, and enforcers. cassian united them, forging them into an elite syndicate known for their efficiency, brutality, and unwavering loyalty. they now control a significant portion of gotham’s black-market trade. › though deeply entrenched in crime, cassian is not reckless. he operates with surgical precision, ensuring that the pack remains an unstoppable force in gotham’s underbelly. › rumors circulate that cassian once loved someone, but that story ended in betrayal—perhaps the reason he is as cold and guarded as he is today.

SKILLS & ABILITIES › master strategist: plans operations with military precision, always accounting for contingencies. › hand-to-hand combat expert: trained in a mix of krav maga and street fighting, he fights with ruthless efficiency. › weapons specialist: proficient with firearms, knives, and improvised weapons. › interrogation & psychological manipulation: can break a person’s mind before ever lifting a finger. › stealth & espionage: moves like a shadow when necessary, gathering intel firsthand.

MENTAL & PSYCHOLOGICAL SKILLS › cold reading: can assess people’s weaknesses, fears, and intentions within minutes. › unshakable willpower: pain, threats, and intimidation do not affect him. he cannot be broken. › extreme focus: does not allow distractions or emotions to cloud his judgment. PROFESSIONAL SKILLS › criminal empire management: runs the wolf pack like a well-oiled machine, ensuring profitability and loyalty › negotiation & diplomacy: knows when to strike a deal and when to make an example of someone. › high-stakes gambling: a skilled poker player—though he rarely plays for fun.

EQUIPMENT & TOOLS. › custom silver dagger: always on his person, engraved with the wolf pack emblem. › firearm of choice: a sleek, silenced pistol, used only when necessary. › encrypted burner phones: keeps him connected but untraceable. › wolf emblem ring: a sign of his authority, worn at all times.

RELATIONSHIPS & DYNAMICS. THE WOLF PACK (inner circle, trusted allies) › cassian’s handpicked enforcers, informants, and strategists. each one is loyal beyond question—or else. › he does not tolerate infighting. any disputes are settled with finality. › the pack’s loyalty to him is absolute; they would die before betraying him.

DAPHNE JETT (reliable asset, mutual respect) › cassian sees potential in daphne. her infiltration skills make her useful, but he keeps a careful eye on her. › he respects her independence but does not fully trust her—yet. › if she were ever to cross him, there would be no mercy. › they have a past—one built on violence, lust, and a mutual understanding of the game. ›  they fight, they hook up, and then they part ways, knowing it’s never going to be more than that.

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE. greatest strength: his intellect and strategic mind—he plays the long game, and he always wins. greatest weakness: his inability to trust. no matter how loyal someone seems, he expects betrayal. deepest fear: losing control—not just over his empire, but over himself. moral code: he is not a senseless killer; everything he does serves a purpose. he does not harm innocents, but enemies? they do not get second chances.

[coyotere]

coyo i hate rejecting other people but there is a dom who keeps messaging me asking me to do things im not comfortable with, and i am uncomfortable with the fact that he is over 45yo (and im 18 like thats old enough to be my dad and idk it js gives me icky vibes not in the kink way but like in the im uncomfortable way) and gives creep vibes from the things he posts (not even in a scene/kink way just like) and has been really pushy so far. all that just makes me like not wanting to engage in this type play w him.. i dont know what to say to him and lowk need advice as to how you would handle this because i try to be polite but i feel like im not being clear enough or hes js straight up ignoring me. and i know how to set boundaries bc theyre insanely important in the kink community but i js struggle with what to do when ppl push against them :(

:( 🐾

THIS IS A TIP FOR ALL SUBS

first things first my darling I'm sorry you are experiencing this, not just a Dom but a grown man should know better than to harass a young lady, and I am deeply ashamed that there are men out there who act like that.

that being said you have the right to consent, you have aright to tell this guy to go fuck himself, curl up in the bottom of a hole and die. but unfortunately that's not always an option so I'm gonna give you a few things I would say to try and get him to back off.

"I'm sorry, but you're too old for me to feel attracted to you, like you're older than the Internet and it creeps me out, plus the things you're talking about are fucking gross, shouldn't you feel ashamed of yourself? like what would your mother say?"

"So it's pretty clear you're just to stupid to get the hint that I don't want a gross old man like you, I like silver foxes not fat ducks who don't know how to listen when a lady says no. you're icky and gross and I hope your work finds out this is how to talk to 18 year old girls on the Internet."

naturally these are harsh, but that's the way you have to be with these men, I know I know you want to be nice and just make him stop and get him to take the hint but he obviously doesn't care about your feelings so who should you care about his? now I will give you a fair warning he will probably react poorly and I highly recommend you block him, if he's just a stranger online then he should know to back off. alas men are unpredictable and these are answers for if he is sane or has a shred of decency, if he keeps going dm me what he is sending you and I'll help you write the most vile and hateful things to crush his spirit.

a side addendum DO NOT USE THIS APPROACH IRL men are violent things that are again unpredictable. you can never know when a man is willing to hurt you, even if it's someone you know, stay armed, the last four years I've gotten my sister and neices tasers, knives and even a firearm. dangerous men can't be trusted to back off from just words and you have to be ready for anything.

find someone you can trust who can be dangerous if need be, I've gone to plenty of clubs and bars with the women in my life just to watch them and make sure that they are okay and that they get home safe. find a person like that it may be hard but in a brawl unless you can personally assure that this man isn't physically powerful enough to injure you you need back up, stay in groups, one girl with a knife is bad a group of three or four is worse.

but in the end the best thing you can do is block him, you don't owe him anything he hasn't put in the work to earn your trust or your respect.

[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.

[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.

[typicalpnwguy]

Brownells Aluma-Hyde

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In conclusion Aluma-Hyde is a versatile, durable, and user-friendly solution for coating and protecting various materials. Its applications span from firearms to outdoor gear, automotive components, and DIY projects, offering long-lasting protection and customization. With its ease of use and tough finish, it has become a trusted choice for enthusiasts and professionals alike.

I personally used Aluma-Hyde on 80% AR15 lowers and will be using it her very soon to cover up a horrible cerakote job someone did for me a few years back. I personally like DIY projects as it helps me learn more about the item and gives my a more personal connection to it. At $20 Brownells Aluma-Hyde males for a very economical solution to customizing your metal items.

Also please be sure to check out my three part series on YouTube regarding Brownells Aluma-Hyde. Simply search "TypicalPNWGuy" then scroll to said videos! Thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next week!

[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 ->

[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.