#smoking gun.. and on the floor lay the one you said you loved..

[punkypiscesell-writes]

Romance

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: The night is always easier for Javier when he's with you, even if it means thinking about the possibility of ending up alone. Maybe this time he's done running away from happiness.

warnings: secret relationship, smutty happenings and thoughts, mild angst, smoking, mention of drinking, hopeful ending, no pronouns for reader, no use of y/n, reader is a blank canvas. Not beta read! If I forgot something, please let me know.

word count: 2.4k

notes: The happiest of birthdays to Jo, undercoverpena 💛💛💛 I hope you've had the most amazing time celebrating and I'm wishing you the best on this new trip around the sun. You've written one of my favorite fics ever and to be on this platform and reading the art that you share has been a massive privilege. Thank you for making this fandom feel safe. You gave me this lovely tan color called desert sands as my chosen shade on your birthday bash roulette and my mind went immediately to our man Javier and one of the shirts he wears. I hope you, and anyone else who might read this, enjoy your time with this fic.

dividers by saradika

In the night, Javier stands by the open window. The sounds from the street come in through it, an ambulance and police cars with their sirens blaring make his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. The cigarette between his fingers smolders bright, the smoke burns in his lungs, yet he relies on it like nothing else could understand him fully.

He’s pouring his stress into it. The already aching muscles irritated from chasing after people who Javier knows are always two steps ahead of them and their efforts to stop the violence. His gun in its holster, unceremoniously laying on the floor, is a reminder of the violence he’s feeding into. What other option does he have? Anything and everything they do, he does, never seems to be enough.

You stir in your sleep. Javier’s tan shirt is resting on your shoulders. It doesn’t cover your bare skin below your hips. Javier pulls another breath of smoke into his lungs, and then one more, while watching your slumber. Your back rises and falls in a slow rhythm, peaceful, far away from the stress and adrenaline you both carry at work every day.

You shouldn’t have asked him to come home with you that one evening a few months ago after a night out at a bar. You shouldn’t have gotten the courage to make a move. You shouldn’t have wrapped your lips around the cigarette he was smoking, still between his fingers, your eyes glued to his when you thanked him for sharing his smoke.

You shouldn’t have touched his thigh under the table with your hand, shown him what you wanted from him. And you certainly shouldn’t have wrapped your lips around him, kneeling on your bedroom floor, your eyes adoring every inch of him. Your hands on him. His hands in your hair, unable to resist your advantages.

You act like nothing ever happens between the two of you outside of work. You wish him and Steve good morning when you see each other in passing. You ask if they got one of the hundreds of memos they receive every day. You wish them a good night at the end of the workday, ready to go home after endless hours in the stuffy office. You’re always around, but you keep your distance.

“I’m being professional,” you said after that hours long fuck fest fueled by stress in the safety of your bedroom. “We’re colleagues. Nothing is going to change.”

Yet everything has changed. Javier comes to visit every night after work when he’s in the city. You open the door for him without questions, you don’t even ask him to come around anymore. It’s an unsaid agreement at this point.

He knocks once, then two times fast, and finishes with one more knock to let you know that it’s him, no one else. You don’t ask who it is, you don’t hesitate to open the door. You just do and let him slip in, your hand always catching his to stop him from escaping from your reach.

The kiss to welcome him in is gentle, a single touch of your lips against his. You offer him a drink, the thick rimmed tumblers always available next to the amber colored whiskey. It’s also an unsaid agreement that he’s there only to have sex. Nothing more. You don’t deny him, you never tell him to stop, you only want more, and you always give more.

“I would let you do whatever you wanted to me. I would let you have me in any way you want,” you said in the afterglow of your release. Your pupils were blown black, and your breath was still out of your reach. Your legs trembled when you tried to get off his lap, off him.

Javier’s hands squeezed your thighs, either to steady you or to keep you deeply seated on his cock for a while longer. It was well past the hours of the early morning; your alarm was going to go off soon. You would curse at him for coming by after midnight, but you would still open the door for him the next time when he got to yours as late, or even later.

“In any way, hm?”

“Whatever you like,” you hugged yourself around him, your knees against his ribs, and he was screwed.

Javier wanted to believe that the words set all his nerve endings on fire because you were still stuffed full of him. That because you spread yourself open for him every time he came around, the words only had a physical meaning.

You absorbed the nausea he had in the pit of his stomach, somehow mixed with the anticipation of having you at the end of the day. You were someone he learned to trust. He could always come to yours no matter what. He could always rely on you to catch him. You always opened the door, and you never denied him access to you.

The offer was too tempting. Javier tipped you on the bed and kept himself lodged inside of you. Your limbs were weak and pliant. You closed your eyes when he ran his hands down your sides, admiring your figure, the curves where his hands fit perfectly on your waist. You emptied your lungs when he pulled out of you, spilling your mixed releases on your sheets.  

You inhaled the heavy air of your bedroom in preparation. One last breath before he’d pin you under himself. Before his lips attached to your sternum.

Tasting you was like coming home. Feeling you squirm under him in anticipation was exciting. Hearing you whine his name was intoxicating. He didn’t need drugs. He had you.

You came on his tongue buried deep in your folds, sucking, playing with you, taking you to the edge over and over until Javier decided when you had had enough. Your thighs were glued to his shoulders, your heels against his shoulder blades. You ground against his mouth, your hands holding onto his hair, pulling him in, and pulling him off you at the same time. Even when the pleasure crossed the line of too much, you still stayed put and lost your breath with another high as his moustache gathered the slick from you like he was saving it for later.

“You shouldn’t say that.” Javier muttered when you got out of the shower. He was sprawled with his legs out on your bed, watching you. You had outrun the moon without a moment of true rest, and the sun had caught up to you, ending the night with its first rays.

Your legs were unstable still and you couldn’t balance on your other foot when you pulled a fresh pair of panties on. You leaned against your vanity and stumbled through dressing yourself.

“I meant it.” When the door closed after you, leaving him to sleep in your bed, the words sunk in. He wasn’t just screwed. He was ruthlessly in over his head.

Javier had already risked it all for desire, but risking opening up was another thing completely. You observed him in ways he wasn’t aware of. You saw him in ways that others didn’t, in the safety of your bed, in his most vulnerable, in his most rageful.

You saw his quietness in the tenderness he showed you. You took it all out of him, one kiss at a time, forcing him to breathe and put the pressure to the side for an hour or few. You took him apart in ways that made him comfortable in his skin, but uncomfortable in ways that you adored him. With your eyes, with your words, with your gentle hands as you undressed him and showed him slowness.

When your hands pulled off his body and left him needing, you gave Javier all the control. He could feel the goosebumps against your heated skin, caress the pebbles of your nipples and hear your shaking inhales and exhales.

His lips on your stomach, on the sensitivity of your inner thighs, smell you dripping against your panties and touch you in the most lewd ways you probably ever had allowed anyone to touch. Your gasps and moans vibrated in his spine and made him painfully hard. Every time, without a question, you edged him without doing it intentionally.

And in the night, Javier could take you slow, take you apart one push of his hips at a time. One moan at a time. One run of your wet lips against his jaw and neck at a time until your kisses would only be little gasps as your high rushed him to reach his release soon after you.  

And he could take you hard, borderline ferociously, your hands trying to hold onto him, your nails scratching against his back until imprints of small half moons would litter his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. He would have them for days, and he would do it again, just to have his skin remember your cries of pleasure that he forced down his own throat to not let you wake up the neighbors.

It was impossible for Javier to stop it. Stop you from wanting him, stop himself from letting you. He watched you act like it didn’t mean anything, like it was just the two of you looking for a release. He heard your promise of this not changing anything over and over again in his head but saw that you had changed in every way possible after letting him in your bed.

“Tell me something about yourself,” you once asked while playing with a curl on his forehead and cracked your own promise into pieces.

“What’s there to tell,” he answered, and you dropped the topic immediately. The disappointment radiated off you in waves, but you hid it in licking your tongue against his, not caring about the friction of his moustache against your upper lip.

His intentions were never cruel, not to you, or to himself. Yet he was like a monster, coming back to you without you asking him to. To himself for letting him knock that pattern on your door.

You sigh in your sleep. Javier stumps the burned cigarette into a bowl and closes the window. Your naked leg is warm with his fingers gliding up against it, the back of your knee still damp from staying with your cheek pressed against the mattress, available for him on your knees for as long as he wanted.

He tilts his head the higher his hand rises. Your skin bursts with shivers when his fingers caress the roundness of your thigh and dips between them. He drags his hand against the crease under your ass, the meatiness of the muscle as his hand continues its exploration of your body, the curve of your hip, and under his shirt.

It’s easy to peel off you. Javier’s sweat still clings to it from the day. Your sweat clings to it from the night. He’s not sure when you had put it on. He only woke up to see you covered in it. He reveals the softness of your stomach, the shape of your waist, the underside of your breast. He draws a line with his thumb there.

Your eyes are open, watching him. Your face is half crumbled against your pillow, the worn out linen of your pillowcase. You’re somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

“Come back to sleep,” you whisper, your throat thick with sleep and the remnants of him. Javier moves the shirt off your shoulder to press his lips there. You sigh, relax against his mouth and move enough to give him space to follow you to the easiness of rest. Your hand follows the scrapes from your nails that are still fresh and tender. Your cold fingers look for the warmth of his skin, the burn you left there.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, already slipping away from him in his arms. You’re pulling him under with you, the sleep in your scent intoxicating. You lean in a little closer until you’re glued against him. Javier would want to push you away if you knew what he was thinking.

The hope of a future. He has it in his arms.

It would be the easier choice to let you go. When this is all over, when this terror is done, it would be easiest to end this. You don’t deserve the pain he has convinced he always causes.

Yet underneath there’s a promise of the other side. He’d take you out. He wouldn’t let this relationship stay hidden inside the four walls of your bedroom anymore. His imagination runs rampant with the images of himself in public with you.

To see you smile under the sun, with your hand in his with people around. Your voice in his ear when you tell him about everything and nothing, not just you sighing out his name in the dead of night. He would’ve never guessed ending up in Colombia also meant meeting you. Meeting the possibility of a next day that isn’t full of violence and loneliness.  

“You,” Javier breathes into your hair. The slow rhythm under his palm against your ribcage is proof enough that you’re not listening.

He would tell you who he is eventually. He’ll answer who he was before all this, before you stepped into his life and turned it upside down. He’ll let you see him in daylight, not only in the moonlight that smooths out all the edges, regrets and flaws. He’ll let you in on the good and the ugly, the person he, too, sometimes wants to turn his back to.

He’ll tell you about how he grew up too quick, too sorrowful, missing the family he didn’t have anymore. It’s just him, his dad and the house he once called home. Now it’s filled with stories he cherishes in the silence of his own memory.

Javier will forgive himself eventually. For thinking the worst of himself, for needing you to get away from him. He’ll keep on pretending though, with you, that nothing has changed. And this is just a mutual contract of desire.

“I want you to know,” he says into the glowing orange of your bedroom without any sound, the move of his mouth registering in the muscles of his face. He lets the weight of your body drag him over the border of sleep, melt against you and taste the sweetness of bliss.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Sexual situations, Threesomes/Throuples, Dominant Ghost, Submissive König, Submissive Reader, Gentle Ghost, Caring Ghost, Ghost aftercare, Ghost expressing emotions/feelings, TW: Spanking (briefly), TW: Pet play, TW: Restraints (leash and handcuffs), TW: Sex denial (initially), TW: Double penetration, TW: Rough sex

Okay, I want to give a big big thank you to all of my readers for sticking with me this long. Y'all are my squad and I love you all. To quote my own story lol, "I'll always have your six". Seeya in Ending 3! *finger guns*

(Also, while there are sad moments in part 3, it literally has one of my favorite happy endings in this series. It may taste bitter at first, but don't let that put you off pls 😭 I PROMISE it ends so sweet!)

Reader POV:

The rest of the evening went off wonderfully. After a few more rounds, everyone was either too drunk to continue or had grown bored with the game altogether. So, for the rest of the night, the group had dispersed. Some had gathered to chat at the bar, and some had ventured outside to smoke. But you had been more than happy to just dance the night away. You had danced until your feet were sore! But now that you were back at the barracks, you were an entirely different kind of sore.

You yelped as Ghost’s leather belt smacked your bare ass, gritting your teeth through the burning sensation it left behind. He had you kneeling on his bed, face buried in the pillows to muffle your cries as he met out your punishment. But as the belt continued to rain down, the pillows were proving to be an ineffective solution. Another strike landed, and you groaned in pain.

"I thought I told you to count!" Ghost snarled, sending another fiery sting across your ass quickly after.

"I can't, sir!" You gasped, whimpering at the next impact. "I lost track, I'm sorry!"

He struck you one more time for good measure before throwing his belt across the room. There was a potent darkness in his eyes as he stood there fuming. The fury rolled off him in waves, and you shrank back as his glare pinned you where you lay.

"I told you to behave tonight,” he spat, venom dripping from each word. “But no. You just had to cozy up to the captain, didn’t you? You still think it was a good idea to make out with Price in front of me? You think I enjoyed seeing you sitting in his lap making him feel good?"

“But you didn’t tell me no!” you yelled back before you could think better of it. “You said it was my choice!”

Ghost lunged forward, his hand grabbing the back of your neck as he knelt over you. “You should have known better, princess. Thought I trained you better than that.”

"I’m sorry, sir," you hissed when his hand grabbed your ass, firmly massaging the tender and reddened skin. "I misbehaved and I’m sorry!"

“Good,” Ghost growled, the sound rumbling through his chest like rolling thunder. But with a huff, he let you go. "It wasn't completely your fault, though. Because someone encouraged you to act out. Isn't that right?"

He turned towards König, giving him a withering glare. König blanched at the sight, quickly looking down at the floor. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he shivered, desperate to hide from the seething specter before him. Clothing would have helped a bit, but Ghost ensured neither of you had that privilege. As soon you had entered his room, Ghost had commanded both of you to strip down. You had been directed straight to the bed. But he clearly had other plans to deal with König once he was through with you. So König sat there kneeling at the foot of the bed, cowering under Ghost’s stern presence. He whimpered, tugging against his restraints. A chain leash was hooked to the center loop of his collar before the rest of it wound around the leg of the bed frame. And though he continued to struggle, having his hands cuffed behind his back made the effort even more useless. There was no escape and he knew it. Ghost wanted him to see you punished with first. He wanted the anticipation or dread to fill König’s mind as he was forced to wait his turn.

"Yes, sir," König whispered in a small, pitiful voice. "It was my idea and I'll accept my punishment."

König’s eyes darted across the room, lingering on where the belt had landed on the floor. After seeing how ruthless Ghost could be with it, he shivered at the thought of taking your place. It was a shiver of both fear and anticipation, but a shiver nonetheless. But as Ghost followed his gaze.

“Oh, no. I’m not gonna spank you,” Ghost smirked, slowly pulling his shirt over his head. “I know you. You’d enjoy that a bit too much.”

Ghost kept his eyes on König as he eased his pants down his thighs. His boxers quickly followed, both unceremoniously kicked to the floor. König’s eyes zeroed in on Ghost’s crotch. His breathing had gone shallow and his eyes were half-lidded with longing. And Ghost let him stare as he stroked his length, taunting him a bit.

“You like what you see, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” König gasped, letting out a needy whimper. “Bitte, let me show you how sorry I am. How good I can be.”

"That’s cute. But I don’t think so,” Ghost hissed, turning away to approach the bed instead. “I want you to feel what you made me feel tonight. I want you to know how it feels to have your girl dangled in front of you. To see someone else in your rightful place," he hissed. "Princess, get on your back. I want him to watch."

You obediently rolled over, gasping in pain when the bed sheets made contact with your ass. But Ghost was not in the mood to be patient. He grabbed your ankle, tugging you across the bed to give König full view. He spread your folds open with his fingers, letting your evident excitement drip out onto the bed

"See how wet she is?" Ghost taunted, dipping a finger into your opening before holding it up. "I’m gonna show you how to really make her squirm."

He repeated the motion, this time inserting two fingers and earning a loud gasp as you writhed beneath his hand. But you didn't get very far. With his other hand, he gripped your hip and pressed it down into the bed to keep you in place.

"You gotta hold her still sometimes," he chuckled, probing your clit with his thumb before withdrawing his hand. "Can't have her getting away before the fun starts, can we?"

"No, sir," König whined, staring longingly at the display. His cock twitched in his lap, betraying his growing desire to take Ghost’s place.

"When she’s nice and wet like that," Ghost smirked, giving himself a few firm strokes before lining up at your entrance. "She'll take you balls deep in a heartbeat."

With a growl, Ghost snapped his hips forward and buried himself within your throbbing core. You moaned loudly as he filled you. The sensation of his length settling against your cervix made your back arch sharply as you let out a needy whimper. But there was no time to catch your breath. Ghost jumped straight into a frantic pace, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you into the mattress. This wasn't for pleasure. This was for show. This was to make a point.

"See what fun you could be having?" Ghost panted, ramming himself into your slick core. "I bet you wanna feel her tight little cunt around your cock right now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," König moaned, his erection straining in his lap. "Please."

"Too bad. I guess you'll just have to watch me make her cum."

"Oh, fuck!" You whined, every thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You could hear König whimpering across the room, but Ghost was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything but what he was doing to your body. "Oh, god!"

"Just like that," Ghost murmured, slipping a hand around your throat. "See? This is how she wants to be handled. She wants to be put in her fucking place. Gotta make her take it."

The way Ghost talked about you like you weren’t even there. The way he used you like a tool, like a teaching aid? It sent your mind straight to the most depraved places. Subspace quickly kicked in and you happily surrendered to the raw pleasure he sent coursing through your body. It was addicting. And it felt so good.

You let out a gasped whimper and your walls quivered around his length with every thrust. But Ghost was accustomed to your unspoken signals. He knew you were getting close to your release. In response, he kicked his pace up a notch.

“When she twitches like that,” he moaned to König, his voice tightening as he continued his speech. “When you feel her cunt grabbing at your cock? You tell her to cum for you. You make her cum for you. Whisper some naughty words in her ear and she’ll fold. Isn’t that right, princess? You like being called a fucking whore while I fuck the shit outta you?”

You tried to say “yes, sir”. You opened your mouth to form the words. But when you did, all that came out was a stream of incoherent sounds as your climax tore through you. All you could do was clutch the bedsheets and whimper as your body seized up. The sound of Ghost moaning through gritted teeth blended with your own sounds of pleasure as he rode it out with you. He hadn’t finished with you, but he could not deny himself the reward of increased tightness as you clamped down around him. König let out a gasped moan as he watched you writhe through your orgasm. His eyes burned with envy and hunger. And with a whimper, he glanced down at his lap. Pre-cum was streaming down his erection and pooling beneath him. It was a humiliating sight and he knew it. But there was nothing he could do to remedy it. His body trembled with desire as he watched your climax gradually begin to fade.

After the last wave trembled through your form, you sank back onto the bed with a breathy sigh and Ghost pulled out. You didn’t have the energy to even lift your head, but you still turned to watch as Ghost climbed back off the bed. He sauntered over to where König sat, chest heaving. The chain of his leash was pulled taught from him crawling as close to you as it would allow. His eyes were wild behind his hood and his chest heaved with need. But Ghost wasn't planning on releasing him just yet. He was enjoying teasing him and making him bear through the agonizing wait.

"Look at you all chained up like a fucking dog," he spat, crouching down to put his face in his. "You look hungry. I bet you want a little treat, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he gasped, giving the leash another futile tug. “Bitte, untie me. Please.”

"Untie you? No, I said you’ve earned a treat. So I'll give you a fucking treat."

Ghost grabbed the bottom of König’s hood, tying it back to uncover the lower half of his face. Once satisfied, he seized his cock in his hand and slowly stroked himself. It was still hard and liberally coated in your juices. He gave König a commanding stare as he looked down at him from above, slowly rubbing himself against König’s lips.

"Clean me off."

König quickly parted his lips, willing to do anything if it meant he could join you on the bed. He relaxed his jaw, allowing Ghost to shove himself into his mouth. He let out a choked gag, recoiling when Ghost nudged the back of his throat. But he quickly adapted, choosing to take half of him into his mouth before licking the rest of his length clean.

"Good boy," Ghost purred, fisting his hand in the fabric of his hood. "Still room to improve, but I'll allow it for now."

König moaned, your taste driving him wild as he obediently served his master. He had Ghost’s rapt attention as his tongue moved over his member, occasionally earning a gasp of pleasure. Once Ghost was satisfied with his work, he reached down and released the leash with a click. As soon as the leash fell limp against the floor, König didn’t even wait for his hands to be freed before scrambling towards the bed. Towards you. But Ghost grabbed his arm and shoved him right back down to the floor.

"Sit," he barked, pointing at the floor before climbing back on the bed. "Stay. I didn't say you could move just yet."

The sound that came out of König’s mouth was a strange combination of a whimper and a sob. You could see his erection throbbing, clearly demanding immediate attention. A steady stream of anticipation dripped onto the floor with every move he made. But Ghost paid the display no mind. He gave König a smug chuckle before returning to the bed, settling with his back against the wall. And holding his gaze, he tugged you between his legs. Ghost hooked your calves over his thighs, ensuring König had a perfect view of your swollen sex. Then, keeping steady eye contact with him, Ghost began drawing slow circles around your clit. You gasped, legs trembling at the focused stimulation.

"Oh my. I don't think she doesn't want me to stop, König. Looks like you'll have to wait a while longer," Ghost chuckled, gradually increasing his pace. "I wonder just how many times I can make her cum. Don't you?"

A steady stream of pleas poured out of König’s mouth as he looked on. He knew that if he moved towards the bed even an inch, Ghost would draw this out even longer. His whole body trembled as he fought to restrain himself, eyes locked on the movements of Ghost’s hand. As he continued to work at your clit, Ghost slipped another finger into your depths. He curved it slightly upwards to hit the most toe-curling location inside you. You let out a low moan, instinctively bucking your hips. You were well beyond overstimulation and he knew it. And as you shuddered in his hold, you knew there was no escaping the pleasure he was determined to give you.

You threw your head back against Ghost’s shoulder, unable to stop the next orgasm that crested over your body. But it wasn’t just one. As Ghost continued to increase his pace, you could only whimper loudly as three orgasms hit you in rapid succession. You cried out, arching in his arms as the last climax swept you away. With it came a sudden spray of liquid from your open folds. And the sight made both men moan with desire.

“Good girl,” Ghost purred, stroking your hair before resuming his pace. “Bet you didn’t know she was a squirter, huh König?”

König wasn’t speaking anymore. He couldn’t. All he could do was bite his quivering lip and clench his jaw, low whimpers coming out in rough pants. His arousal was bordering on pain and lust fully clouded his mind. He couldn’t think. The only thing on his mind was making you do that for him. He subconsciously bucked his hips like a dog in heat, whimpering at the lack of friction he desperately craved.

Finally, Ghost decided to be merciful and end his torture. He didn’t look up, but he gave him a single crook of his finger. "Come, I think you've learned your lesson."

König wasted no time scrambling onto the bed. Though Ghost produced a key and set about unfastening his handcuffs, König was driven mad with desperation. He couldn’t wait any longer. Your breath hitched as König pushed into your opening, moaning wildly at your delicious warmth. As soon as his hands were free, they seized your hips in a bruising grip. He tugged you forward to meet his rapid thrusts, hot breath washing over you as he panted in your ear.

But Ghost’s hands were on you too. He maintained a firm grip on your thighs, holding you securely between his legs and keeping you sufficiently spread for König. He tugged your legs open even wider and König increased his pace with a tense moan. Every buck of his hips pressed you back against Ghost’s chest. Apparently, a period of denial brought out his animalistic side. Because König was practically feral. His movements were forceful and frantic. And the breathy growls that he was making were like music to your ears.

“Oh fuck ,” König hissed, burying his face in your neck. “I need- I- Oh Mein Gott, yes.”

Every snap of his hips sends pleasant tremors through your body. And the sight was clearly having an impact on Ghost. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your back. You could feel his own erection firmly pressed against your ass. Every move König made created the most tantalizing friction for him too. The two men groaned uncontrollable as they clutched you between them, writhing together in pure pleasure.

König growled loudly, throwing his head back and quickly losing himself in your wetness. “Oh god, I’m- Shit, I’m close. P-please.”

You whimper as a spasm rolls through your body. And you can hear König cry out at the sudden tightness. His thrusts were getting rougher. He wasn’t lying. He was dangerously close to his own climax. You could feel it. You could hear it. And he wasn’t slowing down.

“Don’t you dare finish,” Ghost growled, grabbing König by his collar and twisting. “Quit moving and be still.”

“Please,” König lets out a strangled moan of desperation. “Please don’t- Don’t make me stop again.”

You can feel him twitching within you and his whole body trembles, but he obeys. His voice breaks as he continues to beg. Ghost had taken this mountain of a man and quickly turned him into putty in his skillful hands. He wielded the power to give him the most powerful pleasure, but he could also take it away at any moment. You’d never seen König beg like this before. Voice shaking and raw. But Ghost would not give in. Not yet.

“Hold on to her and lift her off me,” Ghost growled, shifting behind you. “Don’t pull out. Just do as I say.”

“Y-yes, sir,” König pants.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you with him as he rose up onto his knees. You can see the unfiltered need in his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. In an effort not to add to his torment, you try to fight the tremors that ripple through your core. But after so much stimulation and no time to come back down, your body was running on autopilot. König squeezed his eyes shut with a gritted hiss as your body continued to squeeze at him.

“P-please hurry,” he sobbed, moaning desperately. His arms began to shake. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Okay, set her back down,” Ghost murmured from behind, placing a supportive hand on your hip. “Nice and slow.”

As König gently lowered you back onto Ghost’s lap, you let out a startled gasp of surprise. You could feel your entrance suddenly stretching impossibly wide as Ghost began slowly forcing himself inside you alongside König’s length. Overwhelmed by the excruciating tightness, Ghost grabbed your hips and continued to ease you down into his lap. And as his cock gradually pushed up into you, both you and König moan in bliss. But the fullness was almost too much. You almost tell Ghost to stop before you remember your manners and choose your words as carefully as you could manage.

“Ghost! Ah! Ghost, please!”

“That’s my girl,” he shushed you, not halting his determined progression but moving as slowly as he was able. “You can take us, can’t you? Nice and slow.”

You chest heaved, shrill whines coming out of your mouth as he finally bottomed out. Your lower stomach bulged outwards ever so slightly and your sex throbbed as you tried to adjust. Thankfully, neither of them moved right away. But you could tell they desperately wanted to. The frantic rise and fall of their chests pressed in on you from both sides as they panted, overcome with lust and desire. Ghost’s fingers gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to restrain himself. As for König, he was lost in another world entirely. His eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight.

“Fuck!” he rasped. “Fuck, Maus! Shit!”

“Princess,” Ghost groaned from behind, his body trembling in anticipation. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t know how long I can hold out like this.”

You screwed your eyes shut, trying hard to let your body relax and accept the two massive objects lodged deep within you. After a few more shuddered breaths, you buried your face in König’s neck and clutched his shoulders for support.

When you finally nodded, the response was instant. Ghost growled through gritted teeth as he reared back and started ramming his length into your opening. König moved too, snapping his hips forward at an animalistic pace. The increased tightness, the increased wetness, the added friction from sharing the cramped space. The powerful sensations overtook them both. You’d never been claimed so roughly before. Here, squeezed between twin walls of muscle. Between two sex-crazed demons determined to bury their seed deeper than the other could reach. They sparred ruthlessly inside you and all you could do was cling to König for dear life as they pummeled you with reckless abandon.

The sensations were intense for you too. You didn’t know how an orgasm would feel with two massive cocks crammed inside you. But you didn’t have to wait long to find out. The familiar tendrils of pure bliss were wrapping around your mind. Heat pooled deep in your stomach, threatening to spill over and take you with it.

“Ghost!” You whimpered loudly. “Ghost, please! I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum! Oh God! Oh my god!”

“You just called me ‘Ghost’. That’s twice tonight,” he groaned.

He might have been a slave to his desire, but he still had the presence of mind to enforce his rules. You screamed loudly as his teeth sank into your shoulder. The pressure didn’t break the skin, but the unexpected pain was delicious.

“Not yet,” he panted, increasing his pace. “Just a little longer, princess. You can wait for me, right?”

“Fuck!” you gasped as a particularly firm thrust buried itself against your cervix. Your whole body shivered as your climax tried to pull you under. But you fought it, trying to hold out.

König had his head thrown back, spewing choked strings of incoherent German. His voice was urgent, desperate, and raw. As his thrusts began to grow jerky, you know he was in the same position that you were. But Ghost wasn’t ready to let either of you go. Not yet.

With an impatient growl, Ghost hoisted you up higher. König instinctively responded, taking hold of your ass to lift you off Ghost’s lap. Ghost re-entered you roughly, thrusting into you at a new angle. The new angle really allowed him to lose himself to his pace, driving himself as deep into you as space would allow. König bore the brunt of each impact, struggling to keep you upright while fighting off his own climax as Ghost pounded into you from behind. Every thrust sent your body rocking forward against König. But he reacted, staggering his own pace so that he’d push you right back each time he did.

Ghost’s growls became ragged and his thrusts more direct. And König wasn’t even mentally present anymore. Rough growls of broken German filled your ears as he gripped you tightly, bucking up into you with renewed ferocity.

“Come for me,” Ghost gasped, yanking your head back by your hair. “Come for me, princess.”

The room erupted in vulgar sounds of pleasure as the three of you weathered your releases together. Your walls tried to constrict, but they were already stretched to their limit. Your body resorted to sharp twitches that flickered through your core. Your nails left trails of fire down König’s back as you scrambled for anything to hold onto. And as you did, a flood of hot liquid gushed within you as both König and Ghost spilled their seed into your battered core. There was so much of it. Too much to contain. You could feel it almost instantly overflowing and dripping down your thighs as they continued to force even more into your trembling depths.

As you came back down from your high, you gasped for breath. Ghost shuddered behind you, whispering comforting words as he kissed along your shoulder. König still couldn’t speak. He lay slumped against you with his head on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath. You could feel drops of moisture fall against your shoulder and trail down your arm as he softly wept, overwhelmed by the sheer heights his pleasure had taken him. You shushed him, rubbing his back and whispering words of love in his ear.

“I love you,” you whimpered.

“I-I love you too, Maus,” König whispered, gradually beginning to calm.

“We love you too, Ghost,” you said, rubbing his thigh affectionately.

“Mmmm,” he murmured against your shoulder, reaching around to interlace his fingers in König’s. “I know. Me too. Everyone okay? Did I go too far with you?”

König sat up, still sniffling a bit. But you could tell by his eyes that there was a tired smile on his face. “No,” he whispered. “You were perfect. This was perfect.”

Ghost cradled his face in his hands, stroking the soft fabric of his veil before planting a tender kiss on his forehead. König still held onto his hand and Ghost was more than happy let the gesture continue. But he still wanted to check on you.

He turned your face towards his, gently brushing your curls away from your eyes. His gaze scanned you, carefully searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. “You alright, princess?”

“Yes,” you nodded, leaning into his touch. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. I trust you.”

“I don’t take trust lightly,” he said. He trailed his thumb along your cheek lovingly. “And the fact that you think I’ve earned yours is a high honor. That goes for both of you.”

After he was certain both of you had emerged unscathed, Ghost carefully lifted you off his lap. You hissed as they both pulled out, every part of your body at its peak of sensitivity. But the blissful calm returned when Ghost laid back against the pillows and tugged both of you against his chest. He laid there with a contented sigh, one of you tucked under each arm.

Ghost just laid there, gazing at you both snuggled against his chest. For a moment, he looked away and shifted uncomfortably. But when he lifted his gaze again, his eyes were uncharacteristically tender and the slightest bit emotional.

“I-I’m not great with… feelings. Words like ‘love’ or ‘soulmate’ just feel weird coming out of my mouth,” he huffed, chuckling at himself. “But I never want their lack of use to make you feel any less important to me. All I can say is that no one has ever made me feel this way before and I know that no one else ever will. Both of you drive me crazy, but in a good way. The best way. So, uh, I’ll always have your six, okay? You need anything - I don’t care what it is, what time you come knocking, or what I’m doing - you come to me, alright? And I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“Ghost?” König began, voice timid and hesitant.

“Yeah, precious?’

The pet name rolled off Ghost’s tongue effortlessly, without a thought. The way he said it so easily made you suspect it was an endearing term he’d used for König but only in his mind. This was just the first time he’d spoken it out loud. Though Ghost didn’t react, König blushed cutely at the unexpected nickname.

“I was j-just going to ask if we could, um. If we could stay here tonight?” He shifted his weight, tangling his legs in Ghost’s. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ghost chuckled, pulling you both closer and tugging the blankets over the three of you. “I don’t see why not. I think I could get used to this.”

You looked up at them both. Your angel and your demon. Your yin and your yang. Your light and your darkness. You needed them both and they needed you. And though they each completed you in their own way alone, you couldn't deny that you would never feel truly complete with them both by your side. Lying here with them, you felt whole in a way you never imagined possible. With a soft smile, you snuggled into the warmth of his embrace.

“I think I already am.”

[chososlittlecrybaby]

BONTEN REACTS TO YOU HOLDING THEIR GUN!!

WARNINGS: SMOKING, CURSING

NOT proof read

MANJIRO SANO

You were sitting down on the couch in his office. You were bored waiting for him to come back from his meeting so you decided to roam around. You found a closet and contemplated on opening it.

“What could possibly be in here?” You said to yourself. You didn’t want Mikey to get mad at you wanted to know what was in there.

You slowly open the closet door and find all sorts of guns displayed in the closet. You gasped, you never knew why but you found guns so satisfying.

You picked up his pistol and looked at it in satisfaction. You made sure to turn the safety on a played with it because you were dangerous like that.

You laughed and ran around the room with the gun, playing out different scenarios and overall just having fun with the gun.

Mikey walked, his face neutral as ever. He raised a brow at you then looked over to the open closet. “What are you doing?” He asked. “Oh I.. uhm” You were nervous. You fidgeted with your hand. “Im not mad baby, but you know that’s dangerous right?” He said, walking up to you putting a hand on your face slowly caressing it.

“ m’sorry.. “ You mumbled as you felt the cold hand comes im contact with you. “You’re too pretty to be trying to be gang affiliated baby.” His voice gave you chills. His voice was soft but demanding.

His hands slid up and down your waist as he looked at the gun sitting innocently in your hand. You instantly gave him the gun and became embarrassed.

“Don’t let me catch you with this again okay pretty one?” He said, looking st the gun then back at you. You gulped. “Okay..”

RAN HAITANI

Now one thing about Ran, he did not want you touching his stuff. So when you found his gun laying right there on his desk, you couldn’t help but pick it up. It was a P320 Sig Sauer.

Ran taught you a lot about guns when you first met so you knew better than to point it at anything. You point the gun to floor being careful and made sure the safety was on until Ran walked in the room.

His eyes pierced at you. “Why are you holding my gun?” He asked. “It was just sitting there and i wanted to hold it?” You replied back. “mmh. Just put it back when you’re done, and make sure the safety is on.” He said, turning back to the door to walk out. “That was the first thing I did!” You yelled making sure he heard you.

You definitely thought he was going to be angry.

SANZU

All of Bonten was at a club. Originally you weren’t invited but Sanzu invited you because you know.. you’re his girlfriend.

You were sitting on sanzus lap as he and the rest of the gang rolled up blunts. You sat on your phone scrolling through instagram when you seen one of those ads pop up. They were promoting guns like glock 19s , Pistols, AR-15s. You scrolled through all the slides fascinated by them when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

“You seem interested in those.” He said, sliding his hand down to the side of his pants with a blunt in his mouth.

he pulled out his gun and handed it to you. “ mmh. what’s this about?” you said, as you took the gun. It was a PSA Dagger. You were so intrigued by the gun that you traced your hands over it. Your eyes lighting up seeing all the details of the gun.

“ You like that mama?” He asked smiling down at you. “Yeah..” you said. Hoping he would let you keep it. Truth is, you’re a mini Sanzu. “ You are a devil. What did I turn you into” He sighed. “ mmh.. love you sanzuuu.” you dragged out and chuckled. “love you too ma” he smiled in relief.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy begin to suspect Michael of a far worse betrayal than what happened on the stock market.

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: Violence and insecurity.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 4: The Seeds You Have Sown

Lucy rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand as she descended the stairs sluggishly. The house was always disconcertingly quiet in the mornings. Even more so with Lizzie and Ruby gone. Normally she got up with Tommy, which helped to cloak over some of the eeriness that the huge house exuded in the early hours. Especially in her dark, isolated wing of the mansion. 

But this morning she had woken up alone. Well, the second time she woke up, she was alone. The first time she had stirred at movement beside her, rolling over with an arm seeking out Tommy’s space beside her in the bed only to find it empty.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he had said, large hand passing over the top of her head. Rather than laying beside her, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, already mostly dressed. 

“Mm. Why aren’t you here?” she complained, patting the spot next to her, even as she nuzzled back down into his pillow.

“There’s something I need to go check. Won’t be long.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, sweetheart, just go back to sleep,” he kissed the top of her head.

She drifted in and out for awhile after that, but it was hard to find true sleep without him there. Finally, she’d risen out of bed with a sigh, yawning and stretching and slouching her way over to the wardrobe to pull on her clothes for the day. 

Dressed and at least half awake, she was just making her way to the dining room in the hopes of finding a warm breakfast waiting for her when Charlie came exploding in through the front door. His shoes clattered loudly on the floor as he raced towards her. 

“Lucy! Dad wants you,” he skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her. “He’s outside in the garden.”

“Charlie, what–”

“Miss. Winters, there was a phone call for Mr. Shelby’s office phone that he just missed,” Frances appeared to her left. “And Mrs. Milligan is here for Charles’s violin practice.”

Who the fuck has violin practice this early in the morning?   

“Alright, um, Charlie, you go with Frances to your lesson–”

“He said I’m to play extra loudly today,” Charlie giggled. “Because there might be some bangs outside. Do you know why, Lucy?”

Her blood went cold, eyes snapping to the windows. Suddenly wide awake. She looked back at Charlie, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to pull at her lips. “Yes, Charlie. I think I do. You said that he’s in the garden, did you?”

Charlie nodded.

“Right,” she turned to Frances, who had gone a little pale. “Where’s the teacher?”

“In the drawing room.”

“Charlie, go with Frances to see Mrs. Milligan. Frances, keep everyone inside until we get back.”

“Yes, Miss. Winters.” Frances took Charlie by the hand, quickly leading him away. Lucy waited until they’d gone before running to the cupboard in which they kept a small artillery. She snatched up a tommy gun, some extra ammo, and raced outside. 

She found Tommy seated on the grass by the barren fields, smoking and rubbing at his face with hands smeared with dirt.

“What’s happened?” she asked, hooking the strap of the submachine gun over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around wildly, searching for any signs of danger but finding none. Until her gaze landed on the middle of the field, where a scarecrow was erected on a wooden cross. Lucy stared at it, breath catching in her throat. 

They didn’t have a scarecrow in the field. Not at this time of year, anyway. There was no point when there wasn’t anything planted in it anyway.

If she squinted she could make out that it was dressed in clothes eerily similar to Tommy’s daily attire: a dark coat, trousers, waistcoat, and white button down shirt, with a pocket watch dangling from its neck that glinted in the sun, and a peaky cap a top its burlap head. 

Tommy looked up at her with bleary eyes, chest heaving up and down. 

“There are landmines in the field.”

“What!?”

He nodded, gesturing with his cigarette towards the scarecrow mounted in the center of the barren stretch of mud. “All around the scarecrow. Fucking miracle that I didn’t step on one.”

“You went out there?”

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head.

“Fuck,” she looked out at the field, watching whisps of white mist float across it. 

“In our own fucking garden, Lucy.”

“Yeah.” Already, her mind had begun to work. Who? Who would do such a thing? They were not lacking for enemies, but she struggled to immediately think of any who would be so bold as to do something like this right under their noses. 

“Charlie almost stepped on them. He came running onto the field to get me. If I hadn’t grabbed him in time…” Tommy trailed off, shoulders shuddering. Lucy’s lips parted, eyes widening. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach at the thought of what could have happened to their sweet boy. A hand went to his shoulder, clapping onto it both for stability and in an attempt to offer comfort. 

Distantly, from within the mansion, she could hear the sounds of a violin starting to play. She closed her eyes against the sound. Normally, she wasn’t particularly taken with Charlie’s violin playing. Often she caught herself wishing he’d chosen a less…shrill instrument to learn. Like the piano or even the harp. But today, she relished in the shriek and squeaks of the bow against the strings. 

“He’s okay,” she said, to Tommy and to herself. 

“Yeah.” He heaved out a massive sign, head bowing. She rubbed back and forth across his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles even through the material of his coat and the shirt he had on underneath.     

“What do you want to do about the mines?” 

“We need to take care of them,” he heaved himself to his feet, “so no one risks getting their leg blown off if they step out there.”

“Alright,” she unhooked the strap of her gun from where it was secured on her shoulder. “Should I shoot at the ground from over here, or…?” “No. They’re only around the scarecrow. I think.”

“You think?” 

“If there were ones anywhere else in the field, I’m pretty sure there would be bits of me scattered all over the garden by now.”

She cringed at the mental image, heart twisting upwards into her throat. “Don’t joke about that.”

He looked over at her, saw the expression on her face, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry.” He reached for the machine gun clutched her hands, but she pulled it away. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well…I need…” he had enough foresight to look sheepish at what he was implying. 

“I’m not letting you walk back out there alone.”

“Luces, please…”

“No! I’m not just going to stand here and watch you get blown up.”

“It’ll be fine–”

“Then you should have no problem with me coming with you.”

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. 

“Look who’s talking.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips for a second. “You really would rather risk getting blown up with me than just wait right here?”

“Yes,” she said, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes softened, and he didn’t even need to say anything for her to know that she’d won. 

“Alright, then,” he sighed, looking back towards the scarecrow. “Just stick close to me, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Through the mist, Lucy could just make out the outline of another tommy gun laying on its side in the mud. He must have dropped it in his haste to get Charlie out of the field. 

“Come on.”

She followed him towards the gate that led out into the rows of soft, damp earth. She was careful to stay behind him and follow the path he cut through the mud, since he knew where the landmines were. He scooped up his gun where it lay on the ground, shaking dark tendrils from his fringe that had fallen forward out of his eyes. Immediately, he started firing upon the scarecrow. He emptied an entire magazine into it before coming to a halt, releasing the magazine drum to let it go tumbling to the ground, sliding a second one into its place with a click. Lucy’s finger found the trigger of her own gun, raising it once she came to a stop at his side. Squinting at the dirt around the scarecrow, she squeezed her finger around the trigger.     

The ground around the scarecrow erupted, dark soil and boiling flames exploding with a furious blaze into the sky. They were standing close enough for Lucy to feel the heat from the explosions on her face and smell the charred scent of smoke and burst metal. 

The explosions came one after the other as they swept the ground with bullets, setting off landmine after landmine, each bursting in its own mini inferno. 

And then all was quiet. 

Black smoke roiled upwards, rolling over itself, momentarily blotting out the sun above them before being broken apart by the wind. 

“You think that was all of them?” Lucy asked, lowering her weapon, glancing over to see Tommy doing the same.  

“Yeah. We’ll have to dig them up later.”

“Not now?”

He shook his head. “Charlie said that there was a phone call for me.”

“Yeah. To your office phone. Do you think it has anything to do with this?”

“Maybe.”

Mist danced around their ankles while he started to lead the way back to the house. She eyed him as they walked side by side. His entire face was pinched with stress, shoulders wound ever tighter than usual.

Michael was supposed to be coming back today. She knew that Tommy had been dreading the day; the tension within him seeming to build more and more as the date grew closer. 

Not that she could blame him. She felt it too; that sense of deep, approaching dread building in her stomach, hairs on the back of her arms standing on end, alarm bells blaring in her ears that danger was approaching. 

Once they were inside, she took a quick detour to lock both of their guns back up in the artillery cupboard before meeting him in his office. He was already on the phone when she slipped in, cocking it slightly when she came over to stand next to him so she could hear static crackling through the receiver, and then the buzz of the line ringing.

Whoever was on the other end picked up, and for just a second, she heard Michael’s voice before it was silenced. And then an Irish lilt filtered through the receiver, the voice introducing herself Captain Swing. Lucy’s brows pinched, stomach twisting into knots as Swing explained that Michael had been caught onboard the ship he’d taken from America, in his cabin making deals with men in Belfast who wanted Tommy dead. In the background, Lucy could hear the faint sounds of Michael’s voice, screaming that Swing was lying. 

Swing offered that she could have Michael killed then and there, or she could send him home for them to deal with. Tommy chose the latter. 

At Swing’s revelation that Michael was discussing with their enemies how they’d divide up the racetracks after they’d blown away Tommy’s legs, Lucy froze. 

That was a very specific way of wording things. And a very specific type of death. 

Her eyes shifted to the windows, looking out at the misty field. Despite the mines they’d detonated around it, the scarecrow was still standing on its cross, the wind ruffling its clothes.

How did she know about the mines?

Either what Swing was saying was true, and Michael had been in on the planting of them, or Swing herself had been involved in some way.  

“What the fuck,” Lucy said, soon as he’d put the phone down. Tommy looked as if he were seconds away from a stress-induced stroke, turning his back to the room to instead stare out the window while lighting a cigarette. “Do you really think…?” “I don’t know,” he shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t fucking know.”

It wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility for Michael to betray them. He’d done it before, during the vendetta. But at least then he’d had the excuse of choosing loyalty towards Polly over Tommy. 

“Fucking kid…” the shock was beginning to give way to rage. “We should never have taken him back in.” If it weren’t for them, he’d be some boring accountant, probably for a firm in London somewhere. Or maybe still trapped in that little village that he hated so much. How fucking dare he try to move against them? “He’ll be in Liverpool soon. Assuming that Swing actually lets him go and he doesn’t try to run. I could go to the station and assess him. Find out if anything that Swing said was true.”

“No.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Tommy put a gentle hand on her arm, drawing her in closer to his side. 

“I think that if either of us were to see him right now, we might kill him on the spot. I’ll send Polly and Arthur to pick him up.”

“He might not even show.”

“Then we’ll have our answer.” He lifted his cigarette to his lips, movements slow. 

“Even if Polly and Arthur clear him, I think we should quarantine him for a while. Just to be safe.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll have him and the American girl he’s bringing with him put up at the Midland.”

“Good idea.” The Midland belonged to them. All eyes and ears employed within its walls were theirs. Every phone call, every activity, even every fucking thing that Michael ate would be reported to them. 

“And have some of our boys see what they can find on this Captain Swing and her people.”

“Will do.”

There was the click of heels against the floor outside, and then a few rapid knocks on the door. Tommy’s chest heaved with his sigh, lifting a hand to scratch at his brow. 

“Come,” he called, voice gruff, not turning from where he was still staring out the windows. His voice sounded very far away, and Lucy knew that he was currently locked within his own head, turning each and every possibility over and over in his mind. She inched a little closer to him, and when his arm draped around her shoulders, she looped her own around his waist, hoping that the warm press of her body against his side would help to soothe him. 

Frances came in, bringing with her inquiries from the violin teacher about the bangs she’d heard. Tommy waved away her concerns with an explanation of testing fireworks. One glance at the housekeeper’s face, and Lucy could tell that she didn’t believe him for even a second, but knew better than to pry.

“Also, will Mrs. Shelby and Ruby be home for dinner tonight?” she asked instead.  

“I don’t know.”

Lucy looked down, feeling the all too familiar pang of guilt wash through her. They’d had next to no contact with Lizzie since she’d left. Both of them too afraid of making things worse if they did not allow Lizzie her space. 

But God, it was eating her up not being able to see Ruby. The little girl was like a bright beam of sunlight in the otherwise dreary, melancholic house. The whole place seemed a shade darker in her absence.   

Surely Lizzie couldn’t keep her from Tommy forever. Despite everything, she was still his daughter. She would have to let him see her sometime. 

Him, maybe. But not you. You have no claim to her. No matter how much you love her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The idea of never seeing Ruby again made her want to curl in on herself and weep. 

Approaching footsteps had the three of them starting and turning to see Charlie standing in the doorway, violin clutched in his hands. Excited to show Tommy the new tune he’d learned that morning. 

“And what have you learned, my boy?” Tommy asked, and Lucy detected that he was making great effort to lighten his tone so Charlie would not notice the deep tension practically radiating from him. He slipped down into the chair behind his desk, a hand on Lucy’s waist urging her into his lap. She settled there, arm around his shoulders and head leaning against his.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Regarding Michael. Regarding whoever had planted those land mines in their garden, like deadly flowers waiting to bloom in a fiery inferno. And regarding the danger that seemed to be coming at them from each and every direction. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They stepped into the Garrison to find it utterly trashed. Broken glass crunched under their shoes, half filled and empty glasses littered the tables, and spilled booze seeped into the floorboards. There were only two people occupying the pub: a girl, who roused at Tommy scrapping a barstool against the floor to perch on, and Finn, who remained fast asleep spread out in a booth despite their less than silent entrance. The girl rushed to gather up her clothes and hurry out the door at Tommy’s command.

While he and Arthur set to work dealing with Finn, Lucy grabbed up a broom from the supply closet and started sweeping up some of the broken glass littered all over the place. They seemed to get through to him alright, though Lucy couldn’t entirely shake the wariness that had settled within her when it came to Finn. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something not unlike how she always felt around Polly. That instinctual knowledge that, no matter what she did or how many times she proved her loyalty, Finn would never truly accept her as a part of the family. 

At his mention to Tommy that he’d found a girl he wanted to marry, she started. Jesus, she kept forgetting that Finn wasn’t a kid anymore. In her mind, he was still that little boy running throughout the streets of Small Heath with dirt smeared across his face, grinning as he weaved between the adults’ legs at the betting shop. 

That might explain some of his recent behavior, however, what with the running head-on into danger half-cocked. Whoever this girl was, he was trying to impress her. 

“Tell me about her,” Tommy requested. 

“She likes the life.”

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.”

She frowned, grip tightening on the broom that she was holding, catching her lip between her teeth to worry at it while she shifted uncomfortably. Finn was dismissed, though Lucy barely noticed.   

Was that what he really thought? That all of them were better off with women who hated the lives that they’d chosen to live? 

She did not fit into that category. But Lizzie did. 

Of course he missed his daughter and wanted her to come home. Lucy missed her too. But it had not even really occurred to her that he may be missing Lizzie as well. 

Her fear that Lizzie would someday replace her was a constant, forever presence in the back of her mind. Sometimes it was quiet, hardly even a whisper to be heard. Other times it was a scream, a blaring siren warning her to brace herself for heartbreak that surely would be coming at any moment. The volume of it ebbed and flowed like the tide. 

His words ran on a loop in her head, doubts growing. Maybe the type of person that she was no longer appealed to him. Maybe Lizzie was what he really wanted. A nice, normal woman. Not some basket case who woke up most nights screaming from nightmares, or who flinched at unfamiliar touches or loud noises. Who didn’t find even the smallest enjoyment out of the sport or kind of work that they did. Who rode a horse sidesaddle rather than with a leg on either side.          

Did she like the life anymore? She honestly couldn’t say. The life had caused her an awful lot of pain, as the aches in her shoulders or the twinges in her heart so often liked to remind her. But it had given her Tommy. And if the life of a gangster was what she had to lead to be with him, she’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Without even the smallest hesitation. 

She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. A combination of excitement and dread opened up inside her at Arthur’s report that Lizzie and Ruby would be home later that day. She couldn’t wait to see Ruby. But the idea of having to face Lizzie, especially after the fight they’d had and Tommy’s latest comments, left her feeling nothing but anxiousness. 

Tommy started to give Arthur orders for how to handle Michael once he arrived from Liverpool, but she barely heard him. 

She knew that Tommy cared for Lizzie. That had never bothered her. She cared for her too. But the idea that he might someday fall in love with her terrified her. Because if he loved her the way that Lizzie so desperately wanted him to, there would be no room for Lucy in his life anymore. No love left for her. 

A part of her had always figured it was an inevitability. How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. Even longer than he’d known Lucy. It was impossible that he could spend so much time in such close proximity to her–both emotionally and physically–without certain feelings beginning to bloom. 

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. And the first thing that Lizzie would ask of him would be to toss Lucy out onto the street like an unwanted dog. 

Everything she had, she had because of Tommy. She was not naive enough to think otherwise. Without him, she would lose everything. Hell, he was everything to her. Some days, she doubted she would even be alive if it weren’t for him. What would she even have to live for? Without Tommy she was completely and utterly alone. 

“Lucy?” Tommy called, and she started, realizing that he had stood and gone to the Garrison’s doors, waiting for her to follow him.

“Sorry.” Setting aside the broom she was holding, she wiped her hands down on her overcoat and moved to trail him outside, giving a sharp shake of her head to try to dislodge the thoughts banging around uncomfortably inside her mind. 

“You alright?” he asked, once they had made their way to the station and seated themselves in a compartment on the next train headed for London. The floor vibrated under her shiny black boots as they started to pull out of the station, beginning the journey south. She looked away from where she was gazing out the window with her knuckles resting against her lips to find Tommy eyeing her, mild concern shining in his eyes. 

She thought about asking him what he meant by what he’d said in the Garrison. But she didn’t have the courage to open her mouth and let the words come out. Too scared by what his answer might be.  

“Yeah,” she said, instead, shifting so that her temple leaned against the cool glass of the window. “I’m fine.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Excuse me?”

Lucy looked up from her desk into the face of a bald man with a pointed nose and a dark mustache. He had his hat clutched in his hands, running his fingers along the fine material.  

“Yes?”

“This is the office of Thomas Shelby, correct?”

“It is.” She put down her pen. From his desk across from hers, Adam shot her a nervous look. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Stacker. I need to ask Mr. Shelby some questions. Is he in?”

“What sort of questions?”

The man shifted from foot to foot. “There was a shooting two days ago of a journalist who was in here to meet with Mr. Shelby the night before his death. I’d like to speak with him about it.”

“You’re police?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Police aren’t allowed in here.”

“I’m here in a very…unofficial context.”

“Mm,” she cocked her head, both of them aware that wasn’t truly the case. But flat out sending him away might do more harm than good. “Adam, go find Mr. Shelby and tell him that there’s a policeman here to see him.”

Adam nodded, standing and slipping past Stacker to rush out the door. 

“You can wait in his office,” Lucy said, standing and walking around Stacker to open the double doors, leading him inside. “Who’s your Chief Constable, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Chief Constable Wyatt, Miss.”

She nodded. Good. They knew Wyatt. “Mr. Shelby will be here in a moment. Can I get you something to drink, while you wait?”

“No thank you. I’m alright.”

She went out into the front office, plucking up a folder from her desk and flipping through it to appear busy while waiting for Tommy and keeping one eye on Stacker. The policeman prowled around the office, examining the papers and trinkets spread out on the big desk, then moving to inspect a painting of a white horse surrounded by a golden frame and hung on the wall behind Tommy’s chair. He didn’t touch anything, though Lucy was sure he was making mental notes about all that he was seeing. 

Heavy footfalls announced Tommy’s presence, entering the office with his briefcase in hand and Adam trailing in behind him. 

 “His Chief Constable is Wyatt,” she murmured into his ear. He nodded.

“Five minutes, then come tell me I’ve got an appointment or something that I need to get ready for so he’ll leave.”

She nodded, going to lounge behind her desk while he went in to deal with the officer. 

Just another day in Parliament, she thought to herself as she lit a cigarette, puffing smoke up towards the ceiling, keeping an eye on the clock for when she would need to rise and rescue Tommy from the clutches of the lawman.

The police investigating Levitt’s death wasn’t a particularly unexpected occurrence. Nor was them coming here to talk to Tommy about it, considering that Levitt had died not long after seeing him. Their boys had done good work on the hit, giving it enough flourish to send a message to any other journalists looking to try something, all while ensuring that the police wouldn’t be able to link it to them easily. If at all.  

Didn’t mean that their poking and prodding around wasn’t annoying, though. She had hoped that the police would simply assume that Levitt’s death was a result of conflict caused in his personal life, and they could avoid being pulled into the investigation all together. But apparently not. 

The clock chimed, and she rose from her seat, grabbing up some documents that she needed Tommy to look over anyway, going back into his office just as the last chime sounded. 

“Mr. Shelby, you have a meeting with an MP from Essex in a few minutes.” She reported, placing the documents she’d brought in on his desk. Tommy turned his gaze onto the policeman.

“Your time’s up, Mr. Stacker.”

Stacker said nothing, throat working. Whatever Tommy had said to him before she came in, it had either given him pause, or made him very angry. Perhaps a bit of both. His eyes flickered between them, and then he rose from his seat. 

“Thank you,” Tommy called to his back as he retreated from the room.

“Did it not go well?” Lucy asked, once she heard the door close shut behind Stacker, watching Tommy’s face while he moved around his desk to his chair. 

“He’s suspicious. But I don’t think it’ll stick. If it does, I’ll have a word with Wyatt about him.”

“Alright.”

Tommy’s eyes shifted to the clock. She glanced over her shoulder at it. 

“Arthur was supposed to call me at three,” he huffed, as they watched the minute hand tick over to the right. 

“It’s only two minutes past, love.” She moved around to his side of the desk, touching his shoulder. “Arthur isn’t always the most punctual.”

He just grunted, and she smiled fondly at his grumpiness, rubbing his shoulder a few times to try to massage away some of the tension she felt in his muscles. When she moved to retract her hand, he caught it in his, dipping his face to peck a kiss to the back of it. His eyes squinted at her, assessing. 

“Something’s bothering you.”

She looked down and away. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her hand where it was still clasping it. She glanced anxiously towards the door.

“There’s no one who might see us except for Adam. And he already knows about us,” Tommy said, reading her mind. “Talk to me. You’ve been quiet since we left the Garrison this morning.”

“It’s…it’s nothing, really.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell me?”

She finally looked up at him. The hard wood of his desk was digging into her back where she was leaning against it. She opened her mouth to tell him, then closed it again. It all felt a little ridiculous when she actually tried to put it into words. “Because I’m just being stupid.”

His brows pinched, fingers squeezing a little against hers. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

Her lips pricked upwards. His hand smoothed up her arm, nearly to her shoulder, rubbing a few times before finding its way back to her hand, raising it back to his lips. “Hm?” His head cocked, tempting. “Come on, now, talk to me,” he said, in a voice like a honey. Lucy huffed, trying to stifle a shiver at the warm rumble of his words, struggling to gather her thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I’m happy that Ruby and Lizzie are coming home. Really. I just…” she sighed, glancing away again. Tommy’s thumb massaged across her knuckles encouragingly, his piercing gaze fixed on her patiently while he waited for her to finish her thought. But she found that she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough to actually speak the words that rested on the tip of her tongue.

Am I not what you want anymore?

Are you falling in love with her?

Do you still love me?

And yet she didn’t need to. Both of Tommy’s hands landed on her hips. “Come here,” he drew her in closer, head tipping back to peer up at her through his dark fringe, gaze so softened with affection that it nearly stole the breath from her lungs. And she was left suddenly feeling very foolish that she could ever possibly have doubted his feelings for her. 

“I love you.” He laid a quick kiss on her lips. “I love you, not her. That’s never going to change.”

Her hands came to rest on the nape of his neck, skin warm under her fingers. Relief, that he understood what she was trying to say without her actually having to utter it, had tension that she hadn’t even realized had built up in her muscles melting away. A relieved breath released from her lungs. 

She lowered her head to press her lips to his hair, closing her eyes, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “I know.” And she did. Deep down, she always did. It was just that sometimes the voices in her head screamed so loud that they drowned out everything else. “Sorry. Sometimes…sometimes I just get scared.” 

His eyes grew sad. “Don’t be sorry,” his thumb circled against her hip. “Brains can be stupid, ey?”

A quiet laugh left her. “Yeah. They can, can’t they?”

“Mm,” humming in agreement, he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder.

The phone on his desk started ringing, popping the little bubble of contentment that had formed around them. Tommy let out a soft groan, lifting his head and reaching around her to grab at the receiver. He tilted it just so against his ear so that she could lean in and hear what was being said on the other end. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah,” the older Shelby’s gravely voice rumbled through the receiver. ���Polly says Michael’s telling the truth.”   

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He was angry with us.”

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. 

“Got some American girl with him, too,” Arthur continued. “They got married on the ship on the way here. Name’s Gina Gray. Formally Nelson.”

“What’s she like?”

There was a snort. “She’s got an attitude on her, that’s for bloody sure. Got rooms for them at the Midland. Michael’s mad as a swarm of hornets about it, but he agreed to stay there.”

“Good. What did you think of Michael?”

There was a long pause. “Honestly, Tom…I thought he was awfully fucking defensive for someone who supposedly doesn’t have anything to fucking hide.”

Tommy nodded, looking out the window, lips pursing together.

“I have my revolver with me,” Arthur said, after a moment. “I could probably catch up to them before they even get to the hotel…”

“No. I want to speak with him first. Before we make any permanent decisions. Just have our people at the Midland watch him, for now.”

“All right.”

Tommy hung up the phone, and then let out a groan, face falling forward to rest on her chest, arms looping loosely around her waist. Lucy laid her palms on the back of his head, hugging it to her while her chin rested on his soft dark hair. 

“Well, at least we can keep an eye on him here,” she murmured. With a sigh, Tommy raised his head. 

“Yeah.”

“If you change your mind and want him taken care of, just say the word.”

“We have to be absolutely sure.”

She examined his face, understanding. It wasn’t about Michael. Not really. Not anymore. Maybe at some point it would have been, but most of the good will that Tommy had towards his cousin had dried up long ago. 

This was about Polly. 

If he ordered Michael’s death without provable provocation, he would lose Polly forever. Hell, even if they were able to prove that Michael was trying to have Tommy killed, that may not be enough to sway Polly to their side. At the end of the day, Lucy believed that she always would side with him. Even over the other Shelbys, if she had to. And understandably so. Michael was her son. 

But Tommy loved Polly enough that he would not have Michael killed. Not until he either had no other choice, or he was confident that Polly would support him on it.

Delicately, she brushed a few tendrils of hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay.” 

He looked up at her with eyes worn ragged, stress pinching at the edges of his mouth and in his brow. She stroked his face, smoothing away the lines, drawing his head in close to rest on her chest again. He nuzzled into her with a sigh, eyes sliding closed and cheek resting comfortably atop her breasts. 

She wished terribly that there was more that she could do for him. All she wanted was to be able to help him. To help lessen the burdens that he carried. But there wasn’t much more that she could do. Not now, at least.

So instead, she just held him.  

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reckless girl pt2

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @holdmytesseract

Summary: Magnus, along with the rest of the station, launches into an all-hands investigation to find you, desperately hoping that he's not too late

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood; sad bb Magnus hours; kidnapping; restrains (not the fun kind); non-consensual touching (not our bb Magnus he would never); more physical injuries; gun mentions and use; mention of painkillers (morphine) [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

There were only ever a handful of times in Magnus' career so far where he felt he couldn't stomach a crime scene. Those few occasions involving the most gruesome of acts that a human being could have ever been subjected to.

However, despite how comparatively routine the scene looked when he arrived at your apartment, he found himself clutching his stomach, feet unable to move, upon laying eyes at the blood on the floor. Your furniture was all askew, signs of a struggle littered all over the now crime scene.

It was all he could do not to burst into tears when officers were placing crime scene tape over your front door.

Kurt clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Magnus, you sure you don't want to sit this one out? You're in no shape to work this case, this is your--"

"I have to find her, Kurt," he cut the senior detective off, doing his best to steel himself. "I have to know she's alright. Make sure she's safe again. She--" He choked on his own words, the lump in his throat making it near impossible to speak. "She's my whole world, I need her back."

Wallander sighed, knowing too well the feeling of helplessness that your boyfriend felt in every bone in his body at the moment. That he couldn't just do nothing and wait on a bunch of people that didn't care for you the way that he did to find you. "Very well, then. But you're not stepping foot in that scene. For your own sanity."

"Understood." He didn't want to be inside your apartment in the state it was in, either. That place was more a home to him than his own place; it felt so wrong having to process it like it was just another day at work. "I'll question her sister, see what she knows."

"The man that Y/N put in the hospital. The pick-up artist. Start there. If we know more about the people in the group he's in, it might give us a lead to where she coulda been taken."

Magnus blinked back his tears and made his way to your sister Stella, her eyes wide as saucers with worry and shock as she saw the detective. "I was really hoping we'd be meeting under happier circumstances. My sister speaks quite highly of you, I've never seen her so in love."

"We're going to find her," he said, trying to reassure himself as much as her. "What can you tell me about the man she fought two nights ago?"

She scrunched her face in an eerily similar way that you did whenever you were confused or trying to recall something. "Really not much to say about him, just a regular looking fella, but one of the guys he was with…he kept on talking about his father having connections and how he's gonna 'avenge his mate for what Y/N did to him'."

"Can you describe this friend of his?"

"I'll do you one better." She tapped away at her phone before handing it over to him, showing him a photo. "This is him. Marcus Ferguson. Menace to society touting around Daddy's money and power."

Magnus' blood ran cold. They'd been after Ferguson for the better part of a year, a prime suspect in the kidnapping and trafficking of women and girls from as young as 13. The heart-wrenching part was that they could never get their hands on the smoking gun that would put him away for good, and the victims that they'd managed to rescue were too afraid of retaliation from him and his family that they'd never bring themselves to testify.

And now he had you.

The details that Stella gave him led him to the restaurant you two were at the evening before last, and the owner more than happily volunteered the security footage from the time you two were in there and Ferguson's friend got into the altercation with you. He watched with a mix of fury and pride seeing how you held your own and ultimately brought the sleazy excuse for a human being down on the ground coughing and bleeding, curled into a ball.

Then Ferguson hung around close enough to the patrol car as you were getting arrested that he got your full name, and then he made a call, saying something to his friend before he was brought to the hospital to be treated. The words he mouthed on screen had the detective's pulse thundering in his ears, panic flooding his system.

"I'll have her by tomorrow night. She'll pay for what she did to you."

He was restless as he showed the station the footage from the restaurant, Kurt giving him the floor to address his fellow detectives and officers. "This is enough cause to believe that Y/N Y/L/N is in grave danger. We know what Ferguson is capable of. We know the damage he deals to his victims, and that's only the ones that we've found. It is imperative that we find her as soon as possible. Alive." His voice broke at the last word, the possibility of finding you anything other than that crushing him into pieces.

"Alright everyone, put all your cases on hold, this takes top priority," Wallander addressed the station. "I want eyes on Marcus Ferguson, someone find him and bring him in for questioning. We also know that his father Jeffrey owns over a dozen warehouses all throughout Ystad, more than enough for his so-called philanthropic efforts. Someone look into them, starting with the ones near the coast. Call them up, and tell me which ones don't answer the call. Get an officer to pay those warehouses a visit. Find Miss Y/L/N. Bring her back here alive. You have your orders."

It didn't take long before a more junior detective spoke up. "I have something. One of the warehouses didn't pick up the phone, and their registration documents show that they should be active and have a receptionist during office hours. And it's a five minute drive from there to Sandskog."

That was enough to get Magnus out of his seat and gearing up. He double checked to see that the magazine of his pistol was fully loaded.

"I'm coming to get you, sweetheart. Hold on for me," he whispered, hoping more than anything that when he wouldn't be bringing you out of the warehouse in a gurney and not a body bag.

The last thing you remembered was reaching to pick up a knife from your kitchen counter, hearing the distinct sound of another person breathing, along with another heartbeat, from within your apartment. You lived alone, and Stella was still at her hotel when you got off the phone with her just a few minutes ago. Right as you stepped into your apartment.

Then a rag went over your mouth, and a smell akin to ultra-concentrated alcohol flooded your nose. And everything went black.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you couldn't move. Your hands were bound behind your back with something twining and abrasive. Rope. You weren't gagged or blindfolded. Your legs were immobile as well, each ankle roped to a chair leg. "What the--"

"Oh goody you're awake," a male voice filled the vast space you were held in. It looked like a warehouse, fairly maintained but empty. The faint sound of waves outside told you that wherever you were, there was a beach nearby. "You're a strong one, aren't ya, little bitch? First you put one of my best mates out of commission for who the fuck knows how long, and then you put one helluva shiner on me."

Your kidnapper approached you and grabbed the bottom of your face, nails digging into your cheeks deep enough you could feel the skin breaking. It also gave you a good enough view of who had taken you hostage.

"You're Ferguson's boy, the brat," you spat at him. "Never had to work a day in his life. Spends his time being a nuisance to womankind."

"I prefer the term gift, poppet." Your stomach lurched at the name. "You're lucky that pretty lil face o' yers is enough to make me consider delaying killing you. Craig went for the wrong 'un--"

"Craig, huh?" you cut him off. "So that's the name of the wanker with the weak ass swing. Tell me, Little Ferguson, do you surround yourself with weak little boys to make yourself seem stronger? Make you seem more like a man?"

That seemed to have struck a nerve. Typical. "I'll show you a man, you little cocktease," he snarled at you, panic flooding your system when you felt his hand on your inner thigh, thick and inelegant fingers creeping higher. "Maybe I'll ruin you before killin' you…"

You squirmed in your seat, trying to throw him off as best you could, your efforts falling short from the rope binding you to the chair. He only snickered in response, his hand traveling up higher which made you throw your head back and butt him on the face as hard as you could.

He stumbled back and landed on his bum with a faint smack, groaning as he held his nose. A fleeting relief washed over you knowing at least you got him to stop from touching you.

That relief, however, was short lived, the entitled bratty excuse for a man stomping over to a golf bag by the exit and picking up a golf club, a heavy one from how he groaned and whined as he tried to lift it above his head, like he was practicing. "You fucking bitch, I just had that fixed!" he bawled, now stomping over to you.

"Please, from where I'm sitting it's an improvement," you sneered. "Gives you some much needed character."

He pointed his club at you. "You're on borrowed time."

"Well hey, do me a favor and run the timer down already because if I have to spend one more agonizing second lookin' at your ugly mug--Agh!"

Your words finally sent his fragile ego off the edge, swinging the golf club back to strike you across your forehead and making everything go black.

The last thing you remembered was the sound of the heavy door to the warehouse being slid open. A commotion.

Gunshots.

And then a voice. Probably the most angelic voice you'd ever hear in your life.

Magnus.

When Magnus and the rest of his team arrived outside the warehouse, Kurt had to physically hold the younger detective back from storming into the place without cause.

"She's in there, Kurt!" he shouted, his desperation ramping up with each passing second.

"And if you barge in there with your badge and your gun without any probable cause the next time she'll see you will be on the other side of a glass divider during visiting hours," Wallander tried to reason with him. "We don't have Jeffrey Ferguson's permission to search the area, we need a reason before we can--"

The loud smack of metal against something followed by a woman's howl of pain sounded out from the warehouse, launching Magnus into action once more. "There's my reason."

When they threw the door open he could feel his heart drop to the ground at sight before him. You on the ground, a new massive gash on your forehead with a bump the size of a golf ball on the same spot. Marcus Ferguson with golf club in his hand, raised above his head ready to strike again. Before he could lay another hand on you, Magnus raised his weapon and shot three times, the booming sound from his gun almost felt loud enough to shake the empty warehouse.

He didn't bother watching Ferguson go down to the ground, rushing over to you instead to work on freeing you from your restraints, his stomach lurching at the sight of the rope digging in and reddening your skin. "Sweetheart," he choked, taking out a pocket knife and cutting through the thick ropes.

"Mags…?" you mumbled as he cut you out of your restraints, trying to be as gentle as he could manage with you as he eased the rope away from your skin.

"I'm here, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now." You instantly relaxed into his hold when he cradled you against his him, refusing to let you go until the paramedics got to you and loaded you onto the gurney. "I've got you."

You struggled to open your eyes when you felt yourself being laid down on a rather thin cushion, the sound of squeaking wheels and words that echoed your own arrest the other day filling your ears. You were wheeled into an ambulance, and you sighed in relief when your blurry vision caught sight of a head of blond curls.

"Mags," you breathed out, fingers twitching toward him. "Sorry I didn't show--" you said through slurred speech before he took your hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

"Shh don't you worry about that even for a second, darling," he spoke into your skin. "All I care about is that you're alive." You felt your skin get wet with hot tears as he kept kissing your hand. "I nearly lost you today."

"Still here," you mumbled, doing your best to squeeze back at his massive hand. "Not getting rid of me that easy, Martinsson."

Before you slipped back into unconsciousness, you heard him tell you, "I never want to be rid of you, my precious reckless girl. I love you so much."

The next time you opened your eyes, there was as rhythmic beeping coming from your side, your wounds had been cleaned, and Magnus was by your side. Hand wrapped around yours, slouched over on an uncomfortable chair, with his cheek resting on the mattress.

You tried to reach over, and run your hands through his curls to gently rouse him awake, but your other arm had a rather thick line in it administering what you could only guess was a pretty effective painkiller considering you weren't feeling the effects of the younger Ferguson's blows that much. You opted instead to squeeze his hand, your boyfriend letting out a tiny groan before looking up, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours and his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair.

"I'm going to need you to promise me something, sweetheart," he mumbled, trying to give you a reassuring smile despite the puffiness in his eyes.

"I'll promise you just about anything as long as you don't let them take away the painkillers."

"Promise me you'll try not to get into any fights until you have a license to carry a gun. I don't think danger will ever stop finding you, but at least I can make sure you're better equipped -- legally equipped -- to handle the next fucker that tries to harm you." He leaned over and looked at your face carefully before pressing the lightest kiss to a part of your face that wasn't cut or bruised. "Promise me, Y/N."

"I promise, Mags," you mumbled, your speech quite slurred. "What happened to Ferguson?"

"Intensive care," he answered, his jaw clenching before releasing his next sentiment. "Wish I'd gone for the head."

"No you don't," you shot back. "Too much paperwork."

He let out a hoarse laugh, his voice scratchy with the telltale sign of yelling and sobbing. "I'll make sure he spends the rest of his life behind bars for what he did to you."

"Hmph…self-proclaimed pretty boy like him surrounded by lonely men who haven't known the touch of a lover," you thought out loud, letting out a mirthless laugh before you echoed your assailant's words to you at the warehouse. "Maybe they'll ruin him before they kill him."

"Careful there," a voice spoke from the door way. Kurt. "Sounds like something he and his troop of deviants would say."

"Something he did say," you confirmed, wincing at the memory. "Right before he reached for the club."

"I'll kill him," Magnus seethed, his fury radiating off of him. "Kurt, please tell me we finally have enough to nail him. And his pathetic posse."

"We might," the older detective nodded. "But we need someone willing to testify against him--"

"I will," you volunteered, not taking another second to mull it over. "I'll testify. From how he talked I'm sure there'll be more just waiting to come outta the wood works. If what I have to say can give them the strength to want to speak up, perhaps we'll have the upper hand. No matter how much he tries to get out with Daddy's money."

Wallander gave you a singular nod. "You're a brave one, Y/N Y/L/N. Got the blood of a fighter, you do." He pointed a finger at Magnus. "You got yourself one of the good ones. Don't screw it up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered back, thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. "It better not come as a surprise to you that I'll want to take some time off. See to Y/N's recovery and all."

"I'd have twisted your arm myself if you didn't." He left the room, giving the nurse a curt nod as they passed each other.

"The doctor should be by in a little bit to check on you, Mrs. Martinsson," she informed you, giving you a warm smile.

Before you could protest from the name she'd called you, Magnus spoke up with a simple sentiment. "Thank you, Nurse." When she walked away, he looked at you with a sheepish expression in his eyes. "I might have fibbed a tiny bit so they'd let me stay in the room with you."

Your thoughts began to swirl more as the lightheadedness you felt from the painkillers mixed with how your heart swelled at his confession. "My gorgeous angel-faced golden retriever baby," you mumbled, making him give you a much wider smile. "Never took you for such a bad boy," you teased him. "What a pair we make…" You adjusted yourself in your bed, shuffling as far off to the side without disturbing the line in your arm and motioning your head to the empty space.

"What're you…?"

"Hop up, Mags," you tried to order him with a sleepy chuckle. "That's no way to sleep, and also I want my husband to hold me."

He climbed on to the bed, holding you gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sleep, sweet reckless girl," he whispered, finally feeling like he could breathe easier now that he had you safe in his arms.

"Y/N Martinsson," you mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against his chest, so sleepy you didn't hear how his heart began to sprint in his chest. "I quite like the sound of that."

Magnus found it near impossible to breathe, his mind immediately bombarded with a vision of you in a myriad  of white dresses, walking down the aisle to him. Exchanging vows. Becoming his wife. "Careful, sweetheart. Any more talk like that and I'll go to the jeweler's the second you're discharged." He struggled to keep his tone light, doing his best not to wake you up.

"Hmph, don't," you grumbled. "Too expensive."

"What?" he breathed out, in complete disbelief at what he was hearing. "You would marry--No. Not right now. We'll talk about this when they take you off the morphine, darling."

"No need," you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. "I'd marry you tomorrow with a ring pop and a jukebox at the hospital chapel, Magnus Martinsson."

Your breathing evened out after that, leaving your boyfriend to process what you'd said all alone. He looked at your sleeping face, shakily pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "When you've fully recovered from this nightmare that monster subjected you to today, I'll make it real," he whispered into your hair, hoping that you'd hear him through your sleep. "I quite like the sound of Y/N Martinsson, too."

A/N: *insert fanfare sound effect here* That's another request done! And these two blorbos are safe and sound in their little bubble where no one's gonna fuck with them anymore 🥹💖 Now on to the next and lemme just tell y'all now…it's angsty and it's 3 parts and we're headed back to our stabby mischievous babey 👀

But before we get there…I might have something for y'all in the next few days involving Centrum Ad Hiddles…

In the words of Scooby Doo…ruh roh…😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Magnus taglist: @vbecker10

[pollunam]

Flaws. Part 5.

Early in the morning, we loaded the gear into the lifeboat. I reloaded the pistols, gathered my hair into a tight bun, and was absolutely ready.

"So, to remind you, we attack at night," Gus repeated. "There will be about ten people for each of us, and," he raised his index finger, "Anders, don’t be greedy."

"My wild days are over," the Viking shrugged.

We climbed the mountain; it turned out to be easier than expected, as if our hands naturally found the footholds. Anders helped me up at the top, extending his hand, "Do you remember our agreement?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "but my wild days are not over yet." I was about to move on, but Anders grabbed my hand, stopping me. "Don’t even think about pulling something."

"What exactly do you mean by 'pulling something'?"

"Anything on the verge of madness and death."

"Can someone please stop this chit-chat and damn well get me off this cliff?" Freddie's voice had a note of wild panic.

"Damn it, Freddie," Anders pulled him up as if he weighed nothing. "And we’ll have a talk later," he threw at me while helping the others.

"What’s the problem?" Graham approached me, handing over some ammunition, "you can always deal with her like this."

"Are you suggesting killing Lassen right in front of him?"

"The plan sucks, but since we’re talking about it," Hayes whispered.

"I hear everything," Anders grumbled, coiling the safety ropes. "Watch out, Hayes."

Graham and I exchanged glances, laughing.

"You guys are like kids, seriously."

"Yeah, big guy, that’s why you love us," Hayes picked up his bag from the ground, waiting for Gus’s order to move on.

"Am I right that he’s going to kill armed-to-the-teeth Germans with a bow?" Graham and I watched as Anders moved forward.

"It’s a skill, probably, I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Gus, it’s like we’re taking one scaredy-cat and two crazy kids to a morning party," Anders turned back to us with an indignant expression.

"It’ll be fun," the captain chuckled.

Gus, Graham, Freddie, and I lay in the bushes, observing the life on the German base through binoculars. A car drove up.

"Gestapo," Gus said, lowering the binoculars, "and that coat isn’t bad."

"That’s too much."

"Alright, we’ll move out at night, meanwhile, keep an eye on the situation."

Shouts of Germans were heard behind us. Two soldiers grabbed their rifles but fell, coughing up blood before they could fire. I grimaced, turning away.

"What happened to them?"

"An arrow," Freddie shrugged.

"And where is it now?" Graham looked around.

"It went through."

Lassen stumbled out of the bushes. "There were two more," he gestured somewhere.

"And where are they now?"

"In Nazi heaven," the Viking shrugged, passing right by us.

"Great, Lassen, go ahead and shoot them with your bow," Gus said resignedly.

"We have no reason to wait any longer," I said, standing up and dusting off my pants.

Anders took out the lookouts; his arrows flew swiftly and accurately.

"Commendable," I remarked.

"Y/N, you’re with us," Gus called me over, "stealthily and quietly."

"Aye-aye," I chuckled, crouching by the container. We sneaked around the building from the back. Gus opened the door, peeking inside. He smiled, shooting the Germans sitting with headphones at the receivers, sticking his tongue out.

"Maniac," I exhaled, peeking into the neighboring building.

"And I tell them, it’s not a dog! It’s my wife!" The German’s joke was cut off quite unfortunately; it probably wasn’t even funny. However, Gus laughed, even when everyone else stopped. Then a burst of gunfire rang out.

I blew an imaginary smoke from my pistol, "How long will we keep strolling?"

"Get down!" Gus yelled, dropping to the floor.

Freddie took up the machine gun, spraying bullets over all the buildings and Germans. The bullets whistled, piercing the wooden walls.

"Is everyone here?" Gus got up as sudden silence fell.

"Except for them, sir," I surveyed the fallen soldiers like toys.

"And here are the new acquisitions," the captain smiled contentedly, approaching an officer.

"Leather is so out of fashion, Gus."

"But it suits me, you'll see."

We set out confidently, heading towards a round building that looked like a terrifying barracks. This was the exact spot where Anders had thrown the grenade, ducking behind the wall. He disappeared into the doorway and the billowing smoke.

"Let’s not rush; he’ll manage," Gus saluted the body of a German in the same coat, "I mean Lassen, of course."

When we entered the building, Lassen was standing there, bloodstained, holding a heart in his hands.

"What is that?" Graham grimaced, "Oh my God, Anders, don’t tell me that’s a human heart."

"Checked for presence," the man replied nonchalantly, adjusting his glasses.

"Thanks, darling, this is just what I needed to make today the most traumatizing day of my life." I turned away, wrinkling my nose.

"Well, hello there, friend," Gus smiled sweetly at the man handcuffed to the wall.

"Oh, God, Apple, how did you get yourself into this," I walked over to the battery from which wires ran to Jeffrey's chest, switching off the power.

"And it would be great to remove these too," he shook his hands, and the handcuffs clinked.

"Be patient," I took a pin from my bun and started working on the lock.

An absolute silence fell, carrying an unspoken question that hung in the air behind us.

"Do you two know each other?" Anders gestured between me and Jeffrey.

"We grew up together," the former German prisoner replied quickly, "By the way, remember that guy?"

"The Spaniard?" We started walking towards the exit.

"Yeah, it turns out his sister was a spy after all," Appleyard began his surprising story.

"I didn’t understand a thing just now."

Gus sighed, "Neither did I, my friend, neither did I," he patted Lassen on the shoulder, "leave it here, I beg you."

Anders dropped the heart on the floor and hurried after us.

"Hey, I grabbed your glasses!"

"And a coat for yourself, I see," Jeffrey smiled, "thank you."

Outside the building, Freddie was waiting for us, having rigged the weapon depots with explosives. As soon as we reached the cliff, there was an explosion.

"Beautiful," Gus observed, "well done."

The entire way back to the ship, we talked with Jeffrey, while Lassen shot us extremely displeased looks. How could this man be so grim after achieving his ultimate dream – a German heart?

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the edge of the ocean, painting the sky with shades of pink. I was chopping vegetables for a salad, watching through the small window as the colors in the sky changed. Thoughts swirled in my head, and an unfamiliar voice kept asking, "How's Anders?" and what was happening. Unfortunately, I had no answers. This strange feeling gnawed at my chest, begging for attention. However, let’s leave it for later. It was time for dinner. I peeked out the cabin door, calling everyone to the table.

“What a treat,” Graham exclaimed, rubbing his hands together as he settled into his favorite spot.

I smiled, “Glad to be of service.”

Gus appeared in the cabin, “I think we should celebrate saving our dear Jeffrey and open,” he rummaged in a drawer, “a bottle of wine.”

“Well, I've shared my news, what about you?”Appleyard asked, sitting next to Gus.

“Have they told you that Y/N got married?” Graham asked, generously piling potatoes onto his plate.

Here we go. Jeffrey choked, Freddie shot a disapproving look at his friend, shaking his head, “Who announces such news while someone is eating?”

“When?”

“So, that's more important than to whom?” I shook my head in disappointment, “I didn't expect that.”

Anders entered the cabin.

“To him,” Gus announced solemnly.

The Viking looked at me in confusion, as if to say, “Again?” I just nodded. Again. It seemed like this would never end. Not that it hurt or upset me, it was more amusing and intriguing.

Appleyard stood up, then sat down again and got up once more, “Congratulations, of course, congratulations,” he extended his hand to Anders, “I still don’t like you,” Anders replied, shaking his hand. Jeffrey laughed nervously. “I won’t even ask why.”

“Enough, that’s it, joke’s over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We didn’t get married, there was just a situation where I called Anders my husband, then everyone thought it was a funny fact and it started.”

“That’s strange,” Jeffrey squinted, “Is it true?” He turned to the others.

They all shook their heads negatively.

“So, you’re lying to me after everything that’s happened? And didn’t even invite me to the wedding?”

I glared at Anders, seeking support, but he just stood there, arms crossed and smiling. “Now it’s really becoming something funny.”

“Yes, Jeffrey, I didn’t invite you because Anders doesn’t like you.”

Gus chuckled, lighting a cigarette, “That’s right, my friend. We barely convinced him to come along to rescue you.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t grasp what was going on.

“Of course not, you wouldn’t do that. And you wouldn’t marry him, but that’s between us.”

I have only one question: why do people act like we’re the only ones in the world when they say something or ask awkward questions?

“Why wouldn’t she marry me?” Lassen snorted.

“I’m not sure, of course, but you seem a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“I don’t know, she just wouldn’t.”

Anger was boiling inside me.

“Well, who among us is not the brightest,” Graham sighed.

“All right,” I rose from my seat, holding a stern and mighty weapon – a towel.

“No, wait, tell me, would you marry me?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Very unfortunate timing, Lassen,” Gus responded calmly.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

“So, she wouldn’t marry you.” Jeffrey shrugged.

“You’d better keep quiet,” I turned to him, “and stop talking about me as if I’m not here. None of you have any business in this matter, one more joke and I’ll kill whoever says it and blame it on an unfortunate accident,” I said passionately, “And you, who do you think you are? My older brother or father? I didn’t ask for your protection, Jeffrey. And for the record, I would marry him, but that’s irrelevant, so enough!”

Silence fell.

“Alright,” Anders said serenely.

“Alright!” I barked, leaving the cabin.

“I can understand her,” Gus said, “and each of you got exactly what you deserved.”

Two displeased looks immediately turned to him.

“Why didn’t he get what he deserved? He started all of this,” Freddie pointed at Hessie, who had been diligently and quietly eating, trying to blend into the wall.

I exhaled heavily, releasing pent-up emotions. Footsteps echoed, and I knew it was Anders or simply wanted to believe it, turning towards him.

“I can’t understand you,” he began, “you’re absolute chaotic madness in armor.”

“You know what, you can’t blame me for that because you’re no better.”

“There you go again, who told you it’s a blame? I like that you’re so real.”

“Wonderful, and again, why are you telling me all this?”

Without saying another word, Anders leans in so carefully. Breathing and not breathing, our hearts beating in unison, and he’s so close, he’s so close that I can’t feel my legs anymore. I can’t feel my fingers, the cold, or the emptiness of this ocean because all I feel is him, everywhere, filling everything. And he whispers, “Please don’t kill me for this.”

And he kisses me, placing his broad hand on my cheek, pulling me closer.

His lips are softer than anything I’ve ever known, soft like the first snow, like a piece of cotton candy, like pre-dawn air, like floating weightlessly in water.

This moment seems to embody the very essence of love – tender, gentle, silent. In his touch, there’s a promise of eternity, in his gaze – a reflection of our dreams. The taste of his kiss is not just sweetness, but an entire world where there’s no place for pain and loneliness, where every breath, every touch intertwines into the melody of our hearts. Let this moment stay with us forever, as a reminder of how easily even the coldest hands can be warmed and all flaws accepted.

A moment that lasted an eternity, where time ceased to exist.

“Anders,” I whisper, confused and at the same time tender, connecting with him through an invisible thread.

“That’s exactly what I meant,” he replies, adjusting my hair, “and nothing else.”

[mknae-jongho]

Ride my face

Dom Mafia!San x Queen sub!reader (Reader name: Aurora) Kai’s name is mentioned in this story.

Word count: i don’t think it matters atp.

Warning(s): Manhandling, breeding, spit play, name calling, choking, etc etc. MDNI(read at your own risk!!) n word is involved | sorry for any word mistakes

*San pov*

“Well… well…well,” I place my gun on my rival’s knee. “Looks like the mouse is finally caught.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it i swear!! I swear on my life.” Kai said. I looked at my babygirl before asking her, “where did he touch you??”

She replied back, “On my waist.” I looked back at him. “I didn’t touch you. Your lying son of a BITCH!!”

That made me hot. “Aurora back up a little for me love.” I saw her on the corner of my eye getting closer and i saw her pulled out a gun and a knife.

“I’m a queen san, i know what to do.”

BANG

“AHHH!!” He had blood dripping out of him onto the floor from his waist where he touched her at. I looked at her walking towards her. “You think you can handle this?” Getting closer leaving no space between us.

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know i can handle. Watch and see san.” She walked away back towards his rival. “Let’s play baby.” I said to myself following her.

Putting my gun back onto my hip, I gripped his hair pulling his head back. “Call her a bitch again,” I began punching him til i saw blood. “SAY IT AGAIN, I DARE YOU.”

“Kill me, i will always have someone to follow behind my footsteps! This ain’t over.” he spat on my face & i looked at Aurora’s face expression. I can tell she’s getting worked up by how she moving.

*Your pov*

“This will be over, don’t you think san,” He nodded his head. “Should i tell him or should you?” He grinned before saying, “You got it baby.”

“Thank you, Now, Kai your the last one alive sooo.” I laughed cocking my gun.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled softly getting a little shooking up.

“Your little gang are already dead love, i mean,” i got closer to him grabbing his face harshly pulling him towards me. “Had to save the best for last right.”

He spat in my face, “Fuck you Aurora or whatever your name is.” I leaned up getting pissed wiping his spit off and San must have noticed.

“Did his just spat on you?” he sped walked to you pulling out his gun getting pissed as well.

“Yes he did, San i’m bout to kill this nigga!” I pushed san away pointing my gun at kai.

“That was a tad bit disrespectful dont you think san.” I looked at san.

“Yes very.”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

“Clean this up.” I looked at san before saying, “Who?” i looked at him like he stupid

“You.” He said laughing.

“A hehe hell, boy hell nawl, we got guards and shit for a reason tell them to come get this shit.” I walked out the basement.

“I’m just playing baby.” You heard san yelling.

“Guards clean this.” Was the last thing you heard san say before going to take a shower.

I was currently laying in bed smoking me a blunt as San was down stairs talking with seonghwa and the rest of boys. When i get high i get horny so i decided to send san a couple of nude videos.

*attachment*

*attachment*

*attachment*

*attachment*

I sent him one where i was spitting out of my mouth as it dribbled down my chin onto my boobs.

ding*

“Why did you send this when their beside me??” ~san

“Cause i’m horny san i need you.” ~you

“You could’ve told me instead of sending nudes, i love them but don’t send them when i’m with them, they could’ve saw!” ~san

“Okay i don’t give af, you gonna fuck me or not?” ~you

“Are you getting smart?” ~san

“Nawl. I’m just saying.” ~you

“I’m just saying too, don’t get smart.”~san

“Man i didnt so come a fuck me. pls:(.” ~you

“Yeah whateva.” ~san

“San enough with the bs i’m horny.” ~you

“Okay wait. I’ll be up there ina minute.” ~san

“Okay!!”~ you

“Aurora open the door.”san trying to come in twisting the door knob.

“open it , it’s not lock san.” Face palming yourself

He quickly open the door and saw you were already on the bed in your lingerie. “Up. Come here.” He said swiftly taking off his belt. You walked towards him seductively til he pulled your wrist and turned you so that your back is faced his chest. He wrapped the belt around both your wrist and tightened it.

“On your knees.” You did what he said as he unbuttoned his black leather pants and pulled his underwear down at the same time. He was so hard that his cock was dripping with precum. “See what you did to me, now suck me off like a good girl.” He rubbed you cheek gently. “Yes sir.”

You kitty licked his tip swallowing his precum as you hear him groan quietly. “ You like that baby? Does it feel good?” You took him all in as his long cock hit the back of your throat . “Fuck babygirl,” he started moving faster holding your chin and your head to keep you in place. “you’re making me feel so good.”

Having san fucking your throat was all you wanted, being a mafia king and queen is stressful and you have to be careful especially since san is talking about wanting a baby. “Fuck i’m gonna cum,” San murmured in a shaky voice, he pulled out of your mouth which lead you to be confused. “I want to cum inside of you, let me breed you, cum deep into you til my cum is dripping from your pretty cunt.”

“Cum inside of me as much as you want san,” You pushed him onto the bed and swaddled his waist. “I’m all yours.” He pulled you down so that you’re chest to chest as he placed his hands on your waist with a tight squeeze. “You don’t know what you do to me princess,” You both made eye contact until his eyes wandered down to your lips. His face got closer to your til your lips were connected as it continued on to a heated make out.

“Are you ready for me?” He lifted up your waist moving one of his hands down to rub his tip on your entrance. “Put it in me san.” Whining as you felt like you were about to explode from being so tensed up. “Yes madam.” He entered you in a fast and harsh thrust giving you no time to adjust. “So tight baby girl,” He groans softly. “I can fuck you all day.” Speeding up his pace your slowly losing your mind.

“Sannnn,” looking up at you loving your pleasured face as you moan his name. “Fuck sannie, i’m gonna cum.” He slowed down is paced pulling out of you. “Whyyyyyy?? I was close san.” he slide down the bed a little to get in the right position. “Ride my face.” He pulled you by your waist to bring you towards his face. You moved up to put both of your legs of each side of his face.

“Sit on my face and let me make you feel good.” He grabbed both of your thighs to pull you down on his face as he began to eat. “Mmmh.” You gripped his locs tightly looking down to see him already look at you. He sped up his pace lick after lick making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Feels good?? Huh??” He murmured giving you a hard spank on your ass. “Yesss san.” Sliding his tongue inside of your aunt did it for you. Your legs began to tremble as your close to the end.

“Cum for me, i know your close baby.” He put his hand on your back laying you forwards to slip in a finger hitting the right spot. “Right there?? Does it feel good right there??” He slowly slipped in another finger twirling them around moving them in and out at a fast pace before beginning to suck your clit, matching the same pace as his fingers.

“I’m cuming san, i’m fucking close san i’m gonna burst!!” you yelled as you felt your stomach tighten and a burning pleasure on your clit letting you know your gonna cum any second. “Cum for me, squirting on daddy face, let me taste you.” His words were all you needed to get off edge.

He sped up his fingers as you clenched around them when suddenly, “Fuck baby girl, that’s right cum on my face.” You came, his paced slowed down as he helped you ride out your high before you slowly removed yourself from his face, laying down beside him.

“10 sec break to collect yourself.” He told you before hovering above you slowly rubbing your inner thighs. Nodding your head, he began to count down.

“10…….9……….8……..7…….6……5……..4…….3…….2……1” He slowly entered you bottoming you out. “Put your legs on my shoulder.” Doing what he told you, he adjusted himself so that you can feel that he’s deeper inside of you. He began to move at a slow but hard pace wanting to take his time with you so that you feel every inch of him.

“Sannn.” Opening your eyes to look at him. “hmm?” He stared at you intensely running chills down your spine. “f-faster p-p-please.” After asking nicely san responded quickly by doin what you’ve asked. “You enjoyed what you did? You’re such a horny whore you’ve forgotten huh?” Pulling out of you he turned you around til your on all fours.

He entered back inside you with more raged in his thrust leaving you a moaning mess. “What are you talking about san?” He gave you a hard spank. “You’ve decided to send nudes while i was around the boys,” Another hard spank landed. “Why?” Spank. “Huh, why?” He sped up his pace and you couldn’t take it.

“Wait sannnn!” You put your hand back trying to disconnect your bodies but sadly it didn’t work. He grabbed both your hands holding them tightly with one hand and spanking you with the other. “Don’t push me off, take it like a good girl!” He used his free hand to rub your clit. “You thought i forgot what you did. I been told you i don’t like when you do that and you still did it. You wanted this right, so take what the fuck i give you like the good slut you are!”

“Ahhh,” You put you head down into the sheets to block your moans but soon later was pulled back up by a pulled on your hair. “Let daddy hear you, let me hear my princess.” He moaned loudly as he twitched inside of you hinting that he’s close. “Fuck baby, cum with me!” He rubbed your clit faster as you began to clench around his cock. “I’m close san, FUCKK!!” You said as your legs began to shake harshly. “i’m about the cum baby, cum wit daddy.” A few hard thrust later he shot his load deep inside you as his pace slowed down riding out the both of you high.

He pulled out and let you out of his grip as you fall onto the bed right after. He gave you a couple more hard spanks on your ass before laying right beside you. “Felt good?” he asked as he placed kisses on your neck leaving marks. “Yes, it felt amazing.” you chuckled softly slowly dosing off.

“Don’t fall asleep baby girl, the party had just begun.”

uhh ohh…

Sorry for not posting i’ve been a little busy..🥹I had this in my drafts and i’m just now finishing this story up.🙂

[starstruck-cupid]

The Sweater

Part 6 of Unnamed Charlie fic. Final part

Kirby x reader at end

(edit: name change. Formerly unnamed)

A/n: I hope this is an okay ending. It isn't what I envisioned but I suppose it's close. This is the finally part of the Charlie x reader. I'm thinking of doing a continuation with Kirby x reader set in the 6th movie.

TW: mentions of stabbing, harm towards reader, smoking. I think that's it?

//////////////////////////////////////<3///////////////////////////////////////////

After a few minutes, I go to find Charlie. Waking up the stairs, I call him, Jill, and Trevor. No answer. Finally I find a bathroom. I walk in, crack the door, and light a cigarette. Analyzing myself in the mirror, I don't realize Charlie is behind me. I feel a hand on my back. It makes me jump and I look up.

"Oh, hi"

He doesn't say anything. He grabs the cigarette and puts it out using the sink faucet. I turn to face him.

"Are you okay?" He's making me anxious.

Still no answer. The look in his eyes is unrecognizable. It's empty but loving at the same time.

"I'm sorry, bunny." His eyes may not be genuine but his words are. "I don't have any other choice. If I don't do it, if I don't make it easy and painless, she will, and she won't be nice."

"Charlie, what are you-" I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. His arms wrap around me

What's happening?

It hurts. Everything hurts. Everything is spinning. I look down.

He stabbed me?

"Char?" Looking at his face, my eyes welled up with tears. "I-" I can't get it out. Everything hurts. My lungs are burning.

"Shhh. Don't say anything. It'll be over soon, princess."

I can't stand anymore. I slowly start to slip down to the floor. Charlie keeps a firm grip on me the whole time, making sure my fall is calculated.

"I loved you" I finally managed to get it out. The thing I've been trying to tell him for days. I finally worked up the courage to do it today, and he stabbed me.

It's almost like I can see his heart break through his eyes.

"It had to happen this way." Not even an I love you too.

I can feel tears sliding down my face as I see Charlie reach into my bag. I didn't realize he had it. Pulling out my walkman, putting in my favorite cassette, he places the earbuds in my ears.

I hear Jill call out his name. I don't have the energy to tell her to run. He didn't say anything else. He just leaves. I don't have have the energy to cry

I don't know how long I sat there. I know 5 songs played. Sometime during the 5th, a police officer walked into the bathroom, gun drawn. Realizing it was just me. She quickly puts the gun down and rushes to me.

I don't remember what happened after that.

I woke up in a hospital. Kirby in a wheel chair next to my bed.

"How'd you get here?" I ask her with a weak voice.

"I snuck over." She said with a smile.

"He got you too?" The thought of Charlie being behind all of this makes me tear up again.

Kirby weakly sits up, needing against the side of my bed.

"Yeah." She said sadly, wiping the tears away from my eyes. It was the first time I've heard her anything but happy.

"Will you lay with me?" She nods, pushing down the assistant rails. I sit up a bit, helping her climb into my bed. For a while we lay there, wrapped in each other's arms.

~2 month time skip~

Everything was back to normal. At least for the rest of Woodsboro. For me and Kirby, it wasn't. We were recovering, but it was slow. All of our friends were dead and it was our friends who did it. I'm not sure if we'll ever be completely normal again. But we have each other.

I'm not sure what we are, but we've grown very close. We're planning to move in together once high school is over. We're getting as far away as we can. She decided she wants to join the FBI. I fully support her and I'm willing to go wherever she needs me.

For one in my life, I am both content and calm at the same time. I'm not sure if I'm happy, but one day I will be.

[zablife]

Hello Lee! Here I am ready to fill your inbox with requests. As I am in love with the way you write Luca I’d like to request the prompt “are you even real?” With him. It’s a horror / psychological prompt but feel free to write any genre you want! 🖤

Hi Shark! I adore this prompt and wrote it immediately, but Tumblr ate the first 500 words 😭 and it took me some time to return to this one. I've used Luca x Aurora (my OC) pairing from My Sun My Moon and All My Stars here which I hope you'll enjoy!

Darkness and Nothing More

GIF credits: upper left @areyenotfondofmelobster, upper right @twvstedsouls lower left @madame-amour, lower right @insane131

Two gunshots pierced the thick summer air, followed by the crash of a Tiffany lamp. The elegant drawing room was plunged into eerily still darkness before Aurora's body staggered forth into the silver moonlight. Collapsing in a heap, she lay silhouetted in shadow beneath the open window. As a gentle breeze rustled the curtains, it carried away a whisper of smoke from Luca's revolver.

Meanwhile in the distance dogs began to bark at the disturbance, calling Luca out of his haze. Rage from moments earlier turned to despair as he surveyed the damage, hands trembling with shock. Losing his grasp on his weapon, the heavy metal clattered onto the blood soaked rug. In a show of repentance, Luca dropped to his knees by his wife's side, cradling her head in his lap.

The rosary tattoo on his forearm came into view above her forehead as he brushed the hair from her once sparkling hazel eyes. He watched helplessly as they turned dull, fixing upon his in a trance like stare. Urgent pleas spilled from his lips as her head began to loll in his hands. "Stay awake, amore. Talk to me. Tell me what you see." He strained to hear Aurora as her mouth struggled to form words. “There's only darkness,” she whispered on one last jagged exhalation of breath.

Luca roared in agony, pressing her chest to his as though the closeness might resuscitate her. When he felt her arm drop listlessly at her side without pulse, he wept uncontrollably. Lowering her to the floor and placing her arms in peaceful repose, he shuddered at his actions. Eyes darting and hands fumbling through the shards of colored glass, he found his gun. Without hesitation, he placed it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The next morning Luca awoke in his bed, the blinding sunshine exacerbating a pounding headache. He pitched forward, head in his hands, as he attempted to piece together the events of the previous evening. The copious amounts of liquor made it difficult to recall, but he felt the lingering tension in his back and shoulders from the escalation of emotion. He remembered how he attempted to subdue Aurora with a kiss, only to feel her palms shove into his chest scornfully. He was certain she said she was leaving. She had threatened it often enough, knowing the effect it had on him.

As he blinked against the bright light, a new memory flashed behind his eyelids in horrifying detail. His stomach turned as he saw the gun at his side drawn in warning before he realized he was firing into her back. Gulping harshly, he recalled the terror and guilt clutching at his heart before turning the gun on himself.

Opening his eyes he studied his hands in bewilderment. He died, yet here he sat without a scratch. His pulse began to race as he wondered precisely when reality had given way to delusion. Perhaps it was all a terrible dream?

"Aurora?" he called in a raw, cracked voice. His arm shot out beside him only to find her side of the bed cold and empty. Throwing the covers aside, he rushed from the bedroom, panic growing as he searched the house for his wife in vain.

Finally he came to the sitting room. Dread bloomed in his chest as he prepared himself for the discovery of her body. Giving the heavy oak doors an urgent shove, he stopped short at the sight of the unblemished Tiffany lamp. With renewed fortitude, he paced toward the carpet and forced himself to look upon the spot where Aurora bled to death.

Instead of crimson stains, he found an immaculate looking rug which caused him to furrow his brow in confusion. Bending down to examine the wool fibers with his fingertips, he felt a sudden dizziness overtake him when he realized it was as pristine as the day it arrived. His eyelids slammed shut as he muttered, "Thank God."

However, the relief was short lived as he considered the alternative. Luca pinched the bridge of his nose as the throbbing pain behind his eyes resumed. It seemed Aurora had left him in the night as she promised and he sighed heavily in defeat.

"Is something wrong?" a gentle lilt floated through the air.

Luca's head shot up at the sound of Aurora's soft voice, scanning the room for his beloved. He soon found her, standing behind him with a smile warming her delicate features. His body flooded with a sense of gratitude that she was not only unharmed, but in high spirits.

As he slowly approached, his gaze rested upon the shine of her dark curls and the glimmer in her eye. She looked more angelic than ever in the early morning light. "I know I don't deserve this second chance," he confessed. "But you're here," he announced in amazement, the stress of the morning breaking him. Cupping her cheek in his palm, tears sprung to his eyes as he asked in amazement, "Are you even real?"

She cocked her head at his strange behavior. "Of course, I'm real," she chuckled at his astonishment. "As real as you," she added taking his hand and guiding him toward the window for some fresh air.

Luca rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand gently, savoring the feeling of her soft skin against his. He wanted this to serve as a reminder to treat her with the utmost care. After glimpsing what might come of his temper, he vowed to change. This was a new beginning for them and he wanted her to know things would be different.

"Tesoro, about our quarrel..." he began.

"It doesn't matter now," Aurora hushed him with a gentle kiss. As they parted she pointed to the bustling street below. All their neighbors were gathered, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

"What's going on?" Luca asked, craning his neck to see beyond them. When he turned to look back at Aurora, an icy chill shot down his spine as he found himself addressing an empty room. Luca shook his head, sure he was going insane.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Luca sought answers. He followed the maids to the street below just in time to see police solemnly remove two bodies on stretchers. Although the dead had been covered by white sheets, the form of a man and a woman could still be seen beneath them.

He listened to the reverberation of voices through the courtyard until they became too faint to distinguish. Although he didn't understand why, he was being drawn away from the light with each passing moment. Fighting to remain for an explanation, he overheard one last exchange.

"Why would he do such a thing? Mr. and Mrs. Changretta were so in love," the upstairs maid stated sorrowfully.

The housekeeper shook her head in disagreement, "There was only darkness there and nothing more."

------------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@severewobblerlightdragon

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@notyour-valentine

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@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

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@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@peakyltd

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@runnning-outof-time

@dangerouspursepeachbear

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@brummiereader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@blindedbystars

@calummss

[ghostly-penumbra]

DannyMay 2023. Day Twelve

“Traditional Media”

Ao3

Summary: Danny and Jason meet. DPxDC. Same universe as this.

Warning: Captivity, kidnapping. Vlad is a bastard.

For @lemon-snake :]

Danny lay face down in the middle of his room in the Ghost King’s castle. Said Ghost King was currently away being an evil fruit-loop to someone else, so the young halfa had the chance to have a depressive spiral in the fragile privacy of his designated room.

It had been eight-hundred and forty-eight days exactly since his parents had sold him to Vlad and he had last seen them. At first, Vlad had tried to make it seem like they hated him and wanted to get rid of him, but once he saw Danny didn’t fall for his crap he dropped the act and gloated the truth: he had tricked Danny’s parents into believing him his mentor, that their fights had just been a clash of ideas and an outlet for frustration on the boy’s part, and had convinced them it would e better for him to go with Vlad for a while at least, to be properly trained.

Danny smiled bitterly. His parents had fucked up, he could not deny that, but they had done it out of love. They accepted him when he told them he was Phantom, they had hugged him, cried, apologized, and promised to do better, to help him in what they could They had erred out of love, because they wanted the best for him.

Danny started crying.

 I forgive you. I love you too. I miss you all so much. Please, miss me too.

Danny exhaled white fog into the floor and his head snapped up, with his tears freezing, quite literally, in his eyes. He pushed himself up and jumped back towards his couch, settling on his neutral façade and blinking away frost.

The portal opened but Vlad didn’t saunter out cape flowing without wind, crown in place; rather, a guy wearing a red helmet stumbled out, falling to the ground but getting back to his feet in a fluid motion.

He was panting, looking around himself with frantic movements until his eyes landed on Danny, who could only gape at him.

“Where am I?!” The stranger demanded, drawing out his gun and pointing it at Danny whilst taking a menacing step closer.

“Dude, what?” Was all he intelligently managed to say before the fruitloop finally appeared, closing the portal behind himself.

“Now, boys, please do calm down. Let’s not start this with the wrong foot, hmm?” He smiled broadly and simply wavered like smoke when the bullets were meant to hit him in the face. “Son, I know this is a rather abrupt change in your half-life, but this is not a behaviour I will accept.” His smug expression vanished, and the Crown cast dancing shadows across his face. “I expect this tantrum to be over with by the time I’m done with these heroes’ little problem.” The stranger said nothing, only watched carefully at what the fruitloop would do next. Vlad turned to Danny, one expectant eyebrow rising. “Well, little badger?”

“What did you do?” Danny finally managed to grit out, terrified.

Vlad opened his arms magnanimously. “Why, you are always moping around, feeling sorry for yourself and being all lonely. So I brought you a brother.” He looked at the new guy, smug. “Problem solved.”

Danny could only stare horrified at him, gaping openly in a display of emotion he barely allowed himself these days.

“I will leave you to it, I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about, you have so much in common, after all!” He looked at his new victim one last time, and approached him enough to quickly swipe away his red helmet –under which he wore a domino mask. Smart–, phasing it through his head with little care even as the guy tried to dodge, “You will no longer need this.” And without another word, a new portal appeared, and Vlad left.

- - -

This challenge was funny to me because I always write my first draft in my notebook, since I just can't write digitally first. So I thought it would be fun to just put the pics of the draft up there and then the barely edited version.

Yup, that's how I write, all smashed together, not lines between paragraphs and my handwritting is small. Don't @ me.

Though usually I have way more notes and doodles in the margins.

[mastersmoke]

The visit - Part two -

With a little buzzing noise he opened the door. The bitch told him to got to the second floor, door would be open. He made his way up the stairs. A middle aged woman came the same way down the stairs. She shortly stopped in front of him. He starred back with a sneering Look on his face. Her eyes showed that she knew, this guy was up for nothing good. She used the little place he left her for the way down.

Smoke loved to intimidate people. In front of the bitches door he put on his mask. He looked around what a fucked up place. Somehow inspiring he thought. The bitches flat was like the staircase, a shit hole. Smoke saw some cigs on the table in the hallway, his brand. Look who read carefully the chat. He lit up a cigarette, inhaled deep, with a big cloud he entered the living room.

The bitch kneeled in front of him. The money between his teeth. Chavy clothes, but he was clearly too old for it. Fortunately he had a lycra mask on. Smoke took the money, checked it if it was the right amount and put it in his jacket. He stood still in front of the slave, taking deep drags from the cigarette, filling the room with his smoke and presence. The slave shivered a bit. Smoke knew that the slave could see through the mask. Not good, but good enough. Smoke could barely control his intrusive thoughts. Oh fuck it.

With a sudden swing he gave the slave a slap to remember. With a lil scream of surprise the bitch fell completly onto the floor. Smokes body and mind were flooded by aggression. He kicked the slave in the guts. Please i do everything you want, please, the whimpering worm said in front of him. Smoke laughed at him, pathetic fag lick my sneax while i sit down and get myself comfortable. Serve good or suffer even more. With this words Smoke sat down on the sofa. He was so fucking full of THC and alcohol rests from the night before.

After a while the slave took off his mask. That thing was clearly in his way for a good licking and sniffing Service. Shit he was not pretty. In honor of that view Smoke spitted a few times in his face combined with some slaps.

After a few minutes Smoke took off his jacket, placed his gun in it and layed back with his arms behind is head. Beside his smoke and the smell of his socks there was now the smell of his armpits. Smokes dick stiffened up. The bitch was getting more and more excited, glancing at Smokes armpits. Bitch boy moaned into Smokes sox with more and more excitement. Wanna sniff a real mans smell? The bitch said nothing, starring for a second and in the next moment he was licking and sniffing smokes armpits.

After a few moments Smoke was bored and horny at the same time. The bitch was eager but not attractive enough not just by the looks of it. So smoke took out his dick and pushed the slave onto it. Lit up a cigarette.

Shit the slave was bad at sucking. Smoke had some pretty good suckers in his Repertoire of slaves. He was clearly not one of them.

Smoke turned the bitch around and just fucked him hard without any warning. At least he was tight. A hole is a hole. The slave screamed sometimes during the fuck. Smoke pounded him relentless and without a break. He told him to shut up and just sniff his sneakers. Happened anything special? No Smoke just came on his ass and thanked the slave with spit, insults and slaps.

He took his jacket , slipped into his last sneaker while he pressed the bitchs face down with his other foot so the bitch could not see him putting the gun into his trousers. The room Smoke left stank after his smell, smoke and dirty sex. No words needed. In front of the slaves house. He took a deep drag of fresh air. It cleared up his thoughts a little. He was pissed about the long way home and unsatisfying session. On the other hand Smoke had some form of fun.

On the way home he bought and drank some beer, enjoying the looks of disgust and fear of people near him. Smoke already planned his next actions, next slaves, next Deals, next fun.

[dreamties]

Sissy Slaughter W/ an S/O Who Has Sleep Issues!

A/n- This feels like such a throwback?? I remember writing several sets like this at the start of the blog! <:O Like, all the way back to 2021 I think? Maybe earlier, actually! Hope you all enjoy! I love you all & please stay safe out there! 💗💗💗

Warning for: mentions of pot use, poisoning / knocking someone out??? but it's like. done for sweet nice purposes?, Drayton cameo at the end !!

taglist: @friedwormeater @0ddmia @royalsnowxoxo @lambofjudgement @lizve @urfavsuh @strawberry-moonpies (let me know if you want to be added or removed!! <3333)

I swear I've said this somewhere before- but sissy grows & smokes her own pot <333

I'm not saying she'll suggest that as an option but I'm saying she'll suggest it as an option

If your sleep is more than just cumbersome for you- if it's affecting you physically (beyond exhaustion), affecting your ability to complete chores, etc - she may need to bring out the big guns

She knows what plants are toxic, what plants can kill and torture She also knows ones for healing !! (side thought: she uses this mostly on herself & bubba. She acts like a pain when anyone sides her youngest brother wants her for her useful abilities) And most important in this case- ones that can knock folks out !! <333 with minimal to no damage done to them She only uses plants to knock you out when you're at your worst point. When you haven't slept for days, and your eyes are irritated and red. When you're in pain all over and can barely stand up. You might not always appreciate this method- but it can work wonders <333

On some nights, when it's particularly rough for you, she'll stay up with ya <333 keep you company.

You don't deserve to go through this, especially not by yourself. Despite her poisoned personality, she can be a real sweetie around her favorite folks <33 (you bein one of em :3) Do you get nightmares? Is that the root of your sleepy time troubles? She'll sit up in bed and pull you close to her. Let you lay down with your head in her lap as she touches your hair and quietly sings. Lulls you into a safe, cozy slumber- or at the very least, calms your mind. A few times she's taken you outside to walk along the property . . . She shows you critters that come out at night, takes you closer to where she has the makeshift greenhouse set up- tells you about all the plants she's been caring for, what their uses are, let's you engage on the topic too, even if you don't know as much as her. Anything outdoorsy that she can do to tire you out, in hopes if you're sleepier you might sleep better.

Sissy has far more experience and knowledge than her siblings do, in regards to life outside the farm that is- but even she can be at a loss of ideas.

If she's really worried she might go to Drayton, ask if he knows what's wrong with you. (he grumbles throughout the entire process, things like "never should have taken them in", and "more trouble than they're worth" he mostly doesn't mean that <33 you're part of the family now so :) ) It's almost like you're a strange pet that she's keeping, because of how alien your issues can feel to her and the rest of the family. In general though !!!! All of the youngest siblings will ask Drayton about the things they don't understand, even if he isn't very knowledgeable on it either. Even if they don't get along with him much (which . . . Who does get along with him lmao)

"They seem sick," Sissy muses. She's sitting at the dining table, your body lying limp on the floor, propped up against her legs. Your head held safely in her lap. She had knocked you out with a non-lethal poison, despite your protests against it.

The poison could be helpful in getting you unconscious, but Sissy hated using it so frequently on you, especially since it doesn't appear to solve the root problem.

You're still having trouble falling or even staying asleep, she's worried about you.

"Should've gotten rid of it when we had the chance."

"C'mon, you've got to know something about this, Drayton. Ya better haven't given my little darlin' something they can't have."

Your head lolls against her lap, your ears slowly perking up with the noise. Your chest tickles with a funny, loving feeling. Your heart beats slow, quicker as you wake. Your girlfriend was so sweet to you.

She talks to her oldest brother like he's given the dog chocolate. She's concerned and trying to be patient, despite her immense dislike of him.

She runs her hands, soothingly, down your back. Noticing her sweetheart is beginning to wake.

"Oh, why don't we look at that. All this is waking up my poor thing." She glares at him, unintrigued, upset with him. She looks back to you, your head following the noise and your eyes unlocking, staring back at her with such an intensity. Lids hardly-half open. She pets your hair, hoping you'll just pass out or be quiet or something.

Sissy huffs. "Fine! We'll just figure it out on our own. You hear that, darlin'?"

She smiles at you, so sweetly. Looks at you like you're the only thing in the room. Like you're precious and irreplaceable- which you are, to her. Your smile gleams and your eyes sparkle when you look at her.

She whispers to you, helping you off the floor. "We'll figure this out, don't you worry."

Hey, I didn't say he would actually be helpful. just that they would ask lol

[beelzebby666]

Mashwood Week Day 3: “Tell Me Every Terrible Thing You Ever Did, And Let Me Love You Anyway.”

Wolfwood is so certain that anything good he touches will eventually be ruined. It’s why he won’t let them buy him nicer clothes, why he insists on going for the cheapest room when they can’t get one together, and why he’d rather eat prepackaged junk than go about buying and making something decent to eat. It’s also why he’s so hesitant to reach out to touch them.

He wants to, clearly. Both Vash and Meryl have caught his little finger twitches before. The edging closer he does, knee barely touching one of theirs before pulling back into his space. He’s drawn toward connection and closeness like a magnet, even as he tries so hard to rip himself away from it.

Vash always watches with a quiet look of understanding. One Meryl has grown to know the two share it often. But where Vash moves about the feeling with a quiet acceptance, Wolfwood is torn apart by the simple desire to be closer.

Meryl has spent the day watching him dance around both her and Vash, needy but refusing to ask for any kind of physical reassurance, when she finally prods him about it. She’s reading in bed, Vash having slipped away to get a shower, and Wolfwood’s camped himself by the window in a chair to smoke.

“Hey,” she calls gently when he snuffs the last of his cigarette out in the ashtray on the window sill. “C’mere.”

Wolfwood looks at her like she’s grown another head but does so without question, surprisingly. Gets up and shuffles across the room to stand next to the side of the bed she’s on.

“What?”

Meryl peers over her book at him. “You looked lonely over there,” she says plainly. “Lay down with me?”

He goes stiff at the suggestion and briefly Meryl wonders if she’s misread him. But then he cuts his gaze away from her and says, very quietly, “Can’t."

“I said you could,” she counters.

“I smell like smoke and gun oil,” Wolfwood half mumbles the words like a shy kid. He still won’t look at her.

Meryl shrugs. “Whole room does,” she tells him. “It’s where you just smoked and cleaned your giant machine gun, remember?”

Wolfwood’s fidgeting now, nervously cracking his finger joints like she’s seen him do in the past. It’s a strange nervous tick, but one she finds almost endearing at this point. She reaches out and gently takes hold of his hands and he freezes, eyes nervously darting to her face like she’s about to scold him.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, squeezing his hand. His hands are rough, calloused from swinging the Punisher around and dragging himself through the hell of a life he’s had, but warm and a little shaky when she’s got a hold of them.

Vash slips back in from the bathroom at this moment and Wolfwood jolts, anxious, but Meryl doesn’t let go of his hands. There’s a brief pause where he takes in the situation, head cocked to the side, and then Vash ambles over to them.

He’s got his own hesitations, worries, but Vash seems more accepting of his belief that things are fleeting. And perhaps this makes it easier for him to enjoy little things, like sitting down on the other side of the bed and folding his legs under him.

“Wolfwood,” Vash murmurs the name in that same painfully fond way he always does.

Meryl feels Wolfwood grip at her hand. He’s looking at the floor again, shoulders tense, but he hasn’t pulled away. Hasn’t run off, too afraid of destroying whatever form of fondness they all have for each other. She squeezes his hand back.

“I’ll ruin it,” he says quietly. Gestures with the hand not gripping Meryl’s to the bed. Or maybe to her and Vash. Maybe to nothing at all.

She vouches for it being the bed. “It’s a hotel,” she tells him gently. “They can handle a little gun oil and smoke.”

Vash reaches over her and takes Wolfwood’s other hand. Starts to very gently pull him in closer until Wolfwood is forced to crawl up on his knees over her legs and into the bed between them. He doesn’t say anything more but he keeps his hands on theirs, even once they get him to settle back into the pillows between them.

Meryl goes back to her book, holding it open with her free hand, and Vash settles down next to Wolfwood with a content hum. And perhaps after a good night’s sleep, Wolfwood might actually believe he’s not about to ruin them by getting closer.

[thatsamolez]

I am waiting for something to go wrong I am waiting for familiar resolve I am waiting for another repeat Another diet fed by crippling defeat And I am waiting for that sense of relief I am waiting for you to flee the scene As if you held in your hand the smoking gun And on the floor lay the one you said you loved

[reefer-reelz-n-reviews]

Scream 3 (2000)

Smoking: Splatter

This is the 3rd movie in the franchise and they are making the 3rd movie “Stab” during it.

Something that I guess I wouldn’t have thought of. The Voice is the same (at least in the first 3 movies) played by Roger Jackson.

I will say unlike the first 2 movies this movie doesn’t have as famous of a person dying. I’ve never seen Kelly Rutherford in anything else. At least that I know of. Maybe to others she is, I just looked at her list and she was on a show called Melrose Place. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. She was also in the original Gossip Girl. Which I’ve seen but I don’t recognize her 🤣

I wanna know what Neve Campbell does to afford a house that nice in the middle of no where with all the security that she has. I don’t see how a Women’s Crisis Center would pay for that. I guess in the 2000’s it was a bit cheaper because it totally isn’t now. Especially in California.

Courtney Cox’s bangs… she let a 4-year-old do her hair? Looks awful, just like that meme about it 😂

We’ve got Kenny from the Cosby Show! Welcome Deon Richmond to your death 🤣 well I’m pretty sure he does lol. We will find out for sure in a little bit.

Tell me how I forgot that Jay and Silent Bob are in this!?! My favorite stoners! “Who smokes the blunts? We smoke the blunts!” 🎶🎶

Why is the ghost face make that is huge and hanging a lime green color? It’s supposed to be white…

Jenny McCarthy-Wahlberg drops an award on the floor and breaks the head off. I laughed so hard 😂 foreshadowing? You’re literally on a movie lot and she’s trying to use knives to attack the killer, then she is surprised they’re fake. Like come on JMW.

Hmmm David Arquette’s bad arm switched… In the second movie it was his right arm… now it’s his left.

Love that Patrick Warburton is in this! Kronk is THE BEST! He’s a bit of a jerk, but I mean he’s a security guard for famous people, so I’m sure he’s a bit jaded. Hehehehe he steals the larger change from DA. Takes a frying pan to the head and a knife to the back. Still walks around and then dies in front of everyone.

Tells you how old this movie is, Parker Posey has a fax machine in her house 🤣

The eternally beautiful Carrier Fisher, even in the movie she talks about Princess Leia. Though she is stating that she didn’t get the part, but you know she did 😂 made a joke about sleeping with George Lucas, wonder how much basis there is for that? I know that he convinced her that in space there wouldn’t be a need for bras. So, who knows, maybe it is true 🤔

If this is about Stab 3, then why is the set up almost like exactly as the deaths in the first one? You had blood on the doggy door in the garage door for Rose McGowan’s death…

NC is carrying around pepper spray… if the killer is wearing a mask then how would it penetrate? Though I guess if it is some kind of soft cloth with holes it would make sense it would go through. But IDK seems suspicious to me.

Patrick Dempsey is really good at playing creepy and suspicious. I’ve heard that really, he’s a dickhead. Which I could totally see that. He kind of gives off dickhead vibes.

Snack time! Apple Pie, with whip cream and chocolate sauce 🤤

DR gets stabbed in the stomach and tires to run away. Nice little flip on the rug. Then over the balcony to die when he hits the ground. At least his wasn’t like a super easy death, right? He had a semi fighting chance.

So out of all the times through out the series that the killer gets knocked out this movie is my favorite. He is laying at the bottom of the stairs and as he’s, I guess dreaming, he goes, stab stab around him 🤣

Don’t understand why when PD opens the door, he has the gun come out first. Like what are you going to do? Shoot blindly? Risk hitting RC instead?

Just realized I haven’t even mentioned who the killer is in this. Maybe I will just leave it a “secret” even though I said what I did about the first one 😝 oh well.

🤣 She mentions Stab 3 and then stabs the killer a 3rd time.

Alright, that’s all for this review!

Toke on! 😶‍🌫️

-RRR