#there's no shots of him doing finger guns so here's him shrugging instead

[always-just-red]

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

[sturnsdoll]

𝙍𝙄𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙍𝙔-`♡´- -c.s & t.y x reader

requested?: i've been bombarded to write another. so here y'all go!

pairing: dom!chris x dom!tara x sub!reader

summary: during a car ride home, your two friends get in a ridiculous arguement over who's better at pleasing women. both of them decide that you'll be the judge of that when you get to tara's.

warnings: no use of y/n, smut, threesome!, oral (f! & m! revieving), fingering, petnames (honey, good girl), cocky!tara&chris

word count: 4,446

authors note: ANOTHA ONE!! (don't like? don't read!)

"pink" = reader "orange" = chris "purple" = tara

it had felt like an extremely long day out despite it only having been a few hours you'd actually been with your friends. earlier, your friend tara had invited you out to do a little shopping and get some food. already being at the triplets home, you chose to invite them- however only chris had been free to come for the day.

the three of you got along surprisingly well, it'd been yap city the entire day between you guys. now though, it was time to head to tara's to sleepover. it had taken some convincing but you'd convinced chris to come for the (not so) girls night at hers.

dominic fike played lowly through the car, chris's choice of course but one that you and tara didn't particularly mind at all. she was currently driving her hot pink detailed vehicle. chris was in shot gun and you'd taken the back, wanting the space for a little nap.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"i think it's insane that some guys just like... can't make a girl cum?" tara said outlandishly, a little giggle on the end. chris laughed, a little taken aback at the odd conversation starter but not necessarily put off by it.

chris nodded subtly "yea, it's a little insane" he said, not a ton of interest in the conversation, he seemed mildly uncomfy talking about it. tara eyed him suspiciously, making a face that implied she was thinking about something. "you ever made a girl cum?" tara asked the younger man bluntly.

chris looked a little nervous, or more so slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. he shrugged, hesitating before nodding with a "yea?" like the answer was obvious. tara glanced at him again, eyes squinted. "hm."

chris looked at her for a few seconds, expecting her to continue. when she didn't, he decided to question her back "have you?" he felt odd asking it the second it left his lips but she didn't seem to mind, more than open to talking about it.

tara rolled her eyes "obviously. women know their shit when it comes to hoo ha's" she noticed that after her comment, chris had grown silent, side eyeing her clearly. "i'm sure you know your shit too, i'm just saying i'm better at it cause i'm a girl" she explained cockily.

"mhm" at chris's bland response, tara looked him up and down almost with slight judgement, her eyebrow raising slightly "you don't think so?" she questioned challengingly to which chris shrugged "i just know i know my shit. just cause you have a.." he hesitated, not wanting to be disrespectul with his choice word "..have one doesn't mean you automatically know more" chris's body language showed discomfort but his words and tone of voice said that he was sure in what he spoke.

tara almost looked appalled. it was a red light so she whipped her head to look back at you "are you hearing this-" she quieted her voice, cutting herself off when she saw you curled against the car door, practically drooling in a deep sleep.

chris smiled a little at your state "i bet you she'd agree with me" he stated. tara shrugged with a cocky look on her features "guess we'll see when she wakes up" she stated, making an unspoken agreement with chris that your opinion would be their tie breaker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

once you'd woke up and arrived at tara's, they didn't immediately bombard you with the ridiculous question. instead, you all made your ways to tara's living room, taking seats and talking about the day out, the only illuminants in the room being moonlight splashing through the windows mixed with low lamp light.

right after debriefing your day out, chris and tara seemed to exchange looks and simultaneously fall silent. you looked confused, smiling at your friends almost awkwardly "something wrong?" almost the second you spoke, chris piped in. "do you think that being a girl automatically means you're better at.. pleasing women?.." chris had an awkward smirk, almost more so a smile as he questioned you- he knew it was random.

looking between the two of them in shock you shrugged "i mean- i've been with both and some women suck too so, i guess not?"

tara groaned half playfully. "noo, you were supposed to agree with me" she complained. chris had an 'i told you so' look as she spoke. you put two and two together and realized this was a debate between the two.

you shrugged with a quiet "sorry" before sipping on the water you'd been neglecting to drink all day. chris opened his mouth to say something (that probably would've made tara flip.) but before he got to speak, tara interuppted "still doesn't mean that you're any better" she responded, crossing her legs and arms with an annoyed glint to her brown eyes when they fell on chris.

chris leaned back in his seat, legs spreading as he brought his pepsi can towards his lips "guess we'll never know" he told tara, a small shrug following.

you watched the way he leaned back in his seat, the way tara's crossed arms pushed her boobs up for a better view. finding your mind running, you wondered who's really better at pleasing. they're the one's who'd inflicted the idea afterall. in a spur of the moment, spontaneous decision, you decided to say something that'd either ruin or make the night.

"why don't we find out?"

both their eyes snapped to yours. you looked at them like it hadn't been you who just said it, your eyes widened in instant regret, looking almost petrified of their inevitable reactions.

tara was the first to snap out of the shock of your words. her lips curved to a smirk as she slowly turned her head to chris "yea, why don't we?" she questioned "unless you're scared you'll lose?" she directed at him challengingly, a daring glint in her eyes.

he licked his lips, opening his mouth like he had a million things to say. yet, all that came out was a choked laugh, practically a scoff. your eyes had been so focused between the two of them that you didn't even notice his hand creeping along the couch till it firmly rested on your knee.

his eyes locked on yours with question of if you were okay with this. you took hold of your bestfriends hand and guided it further up your thigh, a sign for him to do as he pleases.

and oh was he was going to.

in the blink of an eye his lips were on yours, free hand on the side of your jaw. all the while you heard shuffling behind you, then the cushion of the couch sunk down. tara's perfume clouded your senses as she moved up against your back.

you heard a light smack and chris's hand dissapeared, replaced by tara's on your thigh. you assumed she'd swatted his hand away. "my turn first" she demanded, confirming your suspicions. chris didn't protest. he broke away from your lips and got up when she nodded for him to. if he had to wait to please you that was fine with him, he was sure it'd only be better if he went after tara anyways since then you'd be all sensitive for him already.

tara's delicate fingers found the strings on your sweats, pulling them loose. she muttered for you to lay down, head on the arm rest and you did. as she worked on discarding your pants, your eyes wandered to chris whom was removing his belt.

you wanted to question what he was doing but you were caught off gaurd by tara's thumb gently pressing onto your clit through your panties. you watched as she took her glistening thumb to her lips with a smirk. she sucked the residue off lightly. "already soaked for me, honey?" tara cooed softly, earning a glare from chris.

jesus you were already soaked through your underwear? well that's not embarassing at all.

tara only smiled, leaning down between your legs. you watched in anticipation as her hands grabbed the insides of your knee's to push them apart. then one hand came down to hook the front of your pretty thong and pull it to the side. she practically drooled at the sight of you, throbbing at the thought of how wet you'd gotten for her- well for both friends already.

with a bat of her lashes she met your gaze, a sickeningly sweet smile as she leaned down and attached her lips around your clit. a surprised whine left from your lips, head tilting back on the arm rest. that's when you were met with the sight of chris.

(if anyone gets confused about the position, click here)

"you feel good?" he questioned, his face hard to read as his eyed roamed your body, from where your shirt rolled up your stomach all the way down to tara's head buried in your thighs.

upon trying to answer, she un-expectedly began flicking her tongue over your throbbing bud. "yea.." you said, voice high pitched and needy for more. he stood behind the arm of the couch so you had to look upside down at him from where your head lay.

your eyes roamed down his body to find his clothes still on, but jeans boxers pulled to his thighs as he stroked himself slowly, mouth agape at the sight of you.

his waist was level with where your head rested on the arm of the couch. chris shuffled a little closer to gently grab your chin, tilting your head back. you came face to face with his angry red tip that was leaking from the sight of you being devoured infront of him.

he stroked your cheek soothingly as he spoke "can i use your mouth, gorgeous?" despite his sweet tone of voice, his tip forced your bottom lip up. you could already feel the blood rush to your head from having it tilted back over the arm of the couch. your mouth opened for him compliantly, tongue darting out to run over his length.

he took that as a yes, thrusting half the length of his dick through your lips at the same time tara sucked your clit through her teeth, nibbling almost painfully.. almost.

your hips lifted as you choked out a moan around your friends dick. you could feel the smirk on tara's lips against your heat and your sure chris's expression matched. your male friend used his large hand covering your chin, practically on your throat, to keep you where he wanted as he completely thrusted his inches down your throat.

you clawed at the couch as you gagged lightly around him. he pulled out before slipping his dick right back in your mouth, quickly finding a slow pace to fuck your mouth at. although you couldn't see it, his mouth was hung open at the sight and feel of you. contrasting that, tara's tongue sucked and flicked fast enough to have your thighs reactively trying to entrap her head.

she smacked your thigh lightly, releasing your clit with a wet noise. you couldn't speak, so instead tried to whine around chris's cock apologetically. it didn't matter though because your clit was momentarily neglected. however, your dripping hole was invaded instead.

as tara's tongue fucked into you, you choked around your other friend, pulling your head back from him. he let you get to the tip to take a breath. your eyes were glossy with tears from having your throat abused, lips red and puffy. "you okay?" he asked, swiping your hair from your face. you nodded quickly, quickly regaining composure. his voice came out low with arousal, but soft at the sight of your cock-drunk features "gonna keep takin' me like a good girl?" his thumb caressed your cheek sweetly as he asked.

you whined, hips rolling into tara's mouth in reaction to his voice. chris was loving how much such a simple thing got you going. he tapped your cheek with his pointer finger gently, reminding you to respond. once you nodded your head for comfirmation, he went right back to chasing his high, slipping himself through your messy drool and cum covered lips.

speaking of chasing high's, your hand slid down shyly to find tara's hair, gripping lightly through her shiny black locks, which she had no protest for at all, even letting a whine out into your cunt that made your hips jolt up. the feel of her tongue was enough to have your head spinning as is, but having your head uncomfortably tilted back to take chris had you feeling like passing out.

as your hips squirmed up, tara placed her arm on your stomach, pushing you back to the cushions. you tried forming incoherent words around chris's cock, making tara chuckle into you. the vibration from her lips made you whine, you tried pulling off chris to inform them of your need to finish but he only pulled you back

(gentle enough that you could indicate to him if you really needed a break or if you were just trying to speak.)

tara watched with amusement as he kept you quiet. "shh, i know it feels good honey" she silenced you, her tongue plunging right back into your tight walls once done speaking. your cries of ecstasy came more frequently now and it was driving chris insane. you could tell by how his pace began to falter that you weren't the only one approaching your high.

knowing you were at the brink of breaking, her tongue entered you one last time, her hand pushing onto your lower abdomen in synch with it. you couldn't help it, this time you pulled your lips off chris and let out a high pitched cry, propping yourself on your elbows to let the blood flow back to your body from your head.

"fuck" you murmured as you held your friends face against your now-leaking cunt, riding your high while watching as she lapped at every drop leaking onto her tongue.

she soon came up your body with a satisfied grin on her lips. those same lips met yours, forcing you to tase yourself. mid kiss you both heard chris groan, causing tara's eyes to open and lips to leave yours. she watched as cum dripped down his dick, minstrated by his now stilled hand. she crawled over you, leaning forward over the arm rest with her tits in your face as she stuck her tongue out to clean up chris.

with them being right there, you took one of her nipples in your mouth. she finished cleaning up chris and then sat up on your hips, making you release her tit with a subtle pop. "this is about you, honey" she states as she gets up off of you and the couch "or at least it was till he shoved his dick down your throat..."

chris rolled his eyes, ignoring her comment and playfully shoving her aside as he approached you, pulling his boxers and jeans back up. "good luck topping that." tara said cockily, referring to how fucked out she'd already caused you to be.

chris only looked at you and smirked. he may not have been yappin' like tara was, but his confidence in outdoing her was pretty damn high. he motioned for you to sit up, so you did. he took a seat beside you and patted his lap. this hadn't been what you were expecting. gladly though you straddled him, hovering slightly.

"made such a fucking mess" he muttered to you. along with his comment, two of his long fingers came out and unexpectedly pushed all your juices back into you, ripping a whine deep from in your throat. his fingers experimentally curled and his name drawled out of your mouth the second they had. he figured you were already all worked up, there was no need to make you wait right?

his blue eyes locked with yours as he repeated the action again, and again.. and again. your hands gripped at each of his shoulders nails surely leaving marks through the fabric. "you like that?" chris's voice sounded patronizingly cockily. his eyes trailing to give tara a shit eating grin when you couldn't even get out a simple 'yes' your head nodding and hips grinding down into his hand instead.

tara was a little further down the couch now from you guys, her eyes locked on the two of you as her hand snaked into her own shorts to rub over her panties. she wanted to be mad at his cocky demeanor but instead, she found herself practically leaking at the over confident smirk he gave her. (not that she'd ever admit it)

your legs shook lightly as you tried to chase his movements with your hips. almost every curl of his fingers elicted some kind of needy noise from you. chris watched in both awe and satisfaction at how overstimulated you were, his fingers purposefully pushing as deep as possible just for a reaction.

your head dropped down to his shoulder, a gutteral moan as you gripped at the sleeve of his hoodie for any kind of stability. "'m not g-gonna last long" you hardly managed through pathetic little whines in his ear.

chris shook his head "no, you're gonna finish with your friend" he told you, eyes glancing between tara, then back to you. you shook your head gently in protest "but-" "shh, you'll live."

when you rested your head sideways to see your female friend, her legs were spread, hand in her shorts and head tilted back as she bit down on her lip to silence herself. but most noteably, her brown eyes were locked on chris's free hand that was currently running along your side.

tara's eyes took in the length and perfect thickness to chris' fingers, the way they gripped at your skin. the sight had her legs closing back up, thigh's squeezing her own hand as a strangled desperate whine finally slipped her glossed lips.

but you weren't the only one who caught sight of tara's wandering eyes. chris's look darkened at it, feeling his ego puffing up at knowing what she was thinking.

"gonna keep gawkin' orr you wanna come here?" there was a newfound cockiness to his tone that made tara smirk, quickly releasing her hand from between her thighs before shuffling down the couch where you and him sat. she was the first to make a move on chris, gripping the younger brunette's jaw gently to place her lips on his.

while his lips messily pressed back to hers, he slyly slipped his arm around tara's waist, pulling her in so her side was rested right against his. she lifted her hips to remove her black denim jorts, slipping them off onto the floor along with her (now wet) panties.

you were far from neglected during this entire interaction, rutting your hips all the way down chris's fingers as they curled into you with just the right amount of pressure to have your nails clawing further into his hoodie. the sight of your two friends messily swallowing each others mouths eagerly was like having a porno unfold right before your eyes.

chris' hand grazed down tara's stomach, agonizingly slow all the way to her waist. he intentionally missed where he should have been heading to go straight for her thigh's.

she wasn't really in the mood for it right now, further evident by her clutching his roaming hand into hers, forcing it to cup her soaked cunt instead. her hips greedily pushed into his hand, causing them to both to smile into the kiss.

now you tried not to get jealous of the both of them as you watched but it was becoming increasingly hard. tara's eyes momentarily flashing to catch your needy stare caused her to break off from chris' lips.

her soft fingers went for your throat, wrapping with just enough pressure to make you gasp in surprise. with that same grip she forced you towards her, her mouth coming to yours. instead of connecting your lips, she gently bit your bottom lip. sinking her teeth in gently and tugging your lip back, grinning when your gasp turned into a whine from both the sting of the bite along with the overwhelming feeling of chris's fingers.

which speaking of, were now circling tara's clit with his other hand. she was constantly gasping, her lips now trailing your jaw and her hand squeezing your neck tighter in response to chris's movements.

feeling the need to join in, chris' began mouthing at the unoccupied side of your neck, his eyes fluttering shut, soaking in the sounds of both your pleasured noises. he felt a sense of pride knowing it was because of him.

your body was hot all over, nearly feeling like you could pass out from but too caught up in being finger fucked by your friend to care. chris could tell you wouldn't be able to hold off much longer, so he tauntingly moved his wrist further forward to curl his digits deeper into you.

"'m-" you cut yourself off with a moan as they both sucked down on different parts of your neck in synch. you'd think they planned it with how in unison their mouths worked dark purple marks onto you.

forgetting to repeat yourself, your jaw just fell slack, gripping chris' arm warningly. "close?" he mumbled in question against your bruised skin. upon hearing you breathing out an "uh huh", he knew he was gonna need to get tara there faster if he wanted you both to finish together. so he switched to circling your friends clit with the pad of his thumb instead, slowly fucking two fingers into her.

tara parted from your neck to look at chris like she had something to say about it but was quickly shut up when his fingers brushed the spongey spot deep inside her, having her reeling for more of it.

she had already been close from her own previous work on herself so she wasn't gonna last much longer either, announcing it by mumbling next to chris' ear that he was "doing so good" her voice lacked the same cockiness from earlier, sounding needy now,

chris bit his lip to suppress a smile at the praise for how good he was doing at pleasing the both of you. now the only rivalry with chris that tara could care about was if he was making you or her cum first, the argument from earlier long lost in her mind.

he himself had been trying to contain himself from growing hard again at the gorgeous sight of his two friends falling apart on top of, as well as beside him. he wasn't sure when or how he started but his hips were subconciously rutting up into your thigh in rythym with the pace of his fingers inside you.

the sight and sounds of both of you was almost too much, he spoke up to try and talk you both to the edge "c'mon, look so pretty taking it" he started breathlessly, his head was now dropped onto your shoulder, but facing toward tara. so as he spoke, you and tara both assumed he was speaking to yourselves. (which was his intention)

he didn't think about his words as they spilled from his lips, eager to feel you both finish "'know you can cum for me together" his voice was lower, clearly more affected by his clothed dick against your thigh than he'd like to admit.

with an aggresive amount of sudden pressure to both your clits, he got his wish.

walls fluttering around his fingers, your head tilted back, a babble of noises that were meant to be words came strangled from your lips. the hand of yours that wasn't grabbing chris's sleeve reached over to find tara's free hand and grab it, which she happily held, squeezing your hand back with a breathless giggle as her own walls closed and convulsed on chris's knuckles too.

you became overwhelmed quickly, having already came once before this. chris caught on to this by the way your hand was sliding down his arm to his wrist, wordlessly grabbing it in warning. he observed the way your brows knitted together, lips puffing out when he slowly removed his fingers from your fluttering walls.

only seconds later he released his hand from between tara's thigh's too. before chris could process it, tara took his fingers drenched in her slick to her mouth, wrapping around them. his lips parted in a gentle gasp and you took the opportunity to guide his own fingers from his other hand to his lips, encouraging him to tase you as well.

he gladly complied. his blue eyes locked on yours as he sucked his own digits dry of your juices. once he released his fingers, tara realeased his from her mouth as well.

panting, your eyes raked chris in disbelief, this is when you saw the huge wet patch on chris's sweatpants. you giggled teasingly, tara clearly having observed the sight to because she was giggling right along with you, shaking her head as she said "noo way" tauntingly

chris's cheeks tinted a dark shade of red as he groaned "shut the fuck up" to both of you, clearly a little embarassed. his hands quickly found your hips to lift you off him onto the couch. he stood up, rushing to the bathroom.

you and tara both combusted into laughter, wheezing and smacking at each other due to laughing so hard as you watched him walk away, uncomfortably grabbing his crotch.

"i hate you guys!" grumbling like an angry kid he slammed the bathroom door shut.

"love you too!" both of you yelled back in unison to the bathroom door.

tara shuffled to face you as she began putting her clothes back on "okay it's just us, be honest, i was better right?" tara asked wish a raised eyebrow. you had to look away from her as you spoke your truth "you were great!" you responded enthusiastically to avoid the question.

tara knew what your avoidance meant. chris had 'won'.

tara gasped dramatically (mostly) pretending to be offended "girl! fuck you" she playfully shoved your arm as you both giggled, knowing it wasn't that serious.

and despite being 'quiet' (neither of you were.) chris had most certainly heard the conversation from the bathroom and was more than pleased to hear it.

not that he wouldn't have gladly fucked some sense into you another time but, still glad he'd proved his point.

he won.

thank you to everyone for being patient. i was having writers block so this took a longggg time to come out but i'm back on my shit so send more reqs!

tagsᥫ᭡: @mattsrod @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @fratbrochrisgf @eyelovedher89 @bernardsbendystraws @riversandwinds

[mentally-gone002]

i’m right here…

summary: spencer is really upset about a decision you made in the field.

warnings: angstyyy!!

a/n: here i am with another spencer x reader💃 also i was actually on the cusp of death(sleep) while proofing this one so… if there’s anything i missed that’s mb lmaooo (yo girls tired af) also!!! this isn’t supposed to be within any specific season or anything it’s kinda just out there!!

———————————————————————

the door of spencer’s apartment was slammed behind you. he sounded angry the from way he did it, rightfully so, but you’ve never seen him this angry. you didn’t get the chance to fully react before he was grabbing your wrist to pull you away to his bathroom. he gestured for you to sit on the vanity counter. 

you stayed quiet. spencer’s face was contorted with pinched brows, clenched teeth and narrowed eyes as he seethed silently, reaching to carefully peel a piece of lightly blood soaked bandage from your forehead. he tossed it into the garbage can and started to clean the blood from your head. 

you’d gotten injured in the field hours earlier. you’d gone after the unsub the team was after because you thought you could detain her. of course, that plan of yours failed, ending with your forehead falling victim to the back of the gun the woman had. luckily morgan was there to detain her before she took a shot at you on the ground. 

spencer had been silent towards you ever since he heard of how you disobeyed direct orders from hotch. 

it was strange to not hear him talk for this long. it was going on five hours. five hours too long in your opinion. 

as he finished replacing your bandage you spoke up. “i’m sorry.” was all you said. it would probably be useless because all the other attempts to make him talk to you were just filled with more silence and maybe a disappointed look. he sighed heavily though as he looked away. 

“i don’t understand why you couldn’t just listen to hotch.” his brown eyes bore into yours when he said that. 

you shrugged. “i though i could catch her.” 

spencer got visibly more upset than he was before in a second. “you though you could catch her?” he asked. “she pointed a gun at your head.” his voice grew slightly louder.

you swallowed thickly and hunched down at the volume. “i didn’t get killed.” you muttered. 

he scoffed, stepping away from where you sat on the vanity in amusement. his jaw was clenched hard. “that isn’t the point here. you disobeyed an order and put yourself in danger.”

your head snapped toward him. “you think i don’t know that? this job, it makes us all put ourselves in danger!” your voice rose slightly. 

spencer clenched his fists at his side and breathed. “so that just gives you the right to rush into danger the second you want?” he wondered. 

you slid off the vanity to stand against it instead. “if that means that we get the bad guys, then yes!” 

his anger spiked, eyes widening and chest puffing out due to a heavy intake of air. “but you can’t just go off on your own whenever you want! especially when our unsub was as erratic as she was!” he explained with his hands waving in the air as a way of adding some emphases. 

“i wasn’t on my own, reid! morgan was right there!” you reminded him, stepping close as he stepped back, almost bumping the wall behind him. spencer seemed to be getting more agitated by the minute, especially when you called him by his last name.

“oh, okay! so since morgan was there i guess this is okay?” he asked. 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “no. but he didn’t listen to hotch either, so don’t put this all on me!” 

“morgan isn’t here right now, so we aren’t talking about what he did,” spencer told you, “we’re talking about what you did!” he snapped, index finger pointed at your chest. 

you sighed heavily with a pang of guilt that intensified. it had been there since the case had ended. “why are you making this such a big deal? i already know that i was stupid to do what i did, i apologized to hotch, i apologized to you more than once, and i know that i risked my life. drop it.” you walked out of the bathroom into spencer’s dark apartment. 

he followed on your heels, not finished with the conversation yet. “drop it?” he repeated with sarcasm. you didn’t know he knew how to use sarcasm but there it was. “i’m not going to drop this!” 

“well you should!” you spun on your heels with your voice louder than you meant it to go. 

spencer stopped in his tracks with evident perplexity. “why? are you telling me to not be worried about you?” he asked. 

you nodded. “that’s exactly what i’m telling you, spencer! i’m safe and standing in front of you right now!” you stepped closer to him, craning your neck to look up at him. “i really expected you to act differently after this case. i thought you’d come up to me and help me or maybe hug me and say something along the lines of ‘im glad you’re alright’ but i guess not because all i got was the silent treatment.” you kept staring at his eyes. 

he looked stunned and not angry for the first time this evening. “of course i’m glad you’re alright!” she snapped. “i’m glad you’re standing here right now, but it’s only because of dumb luck!” 

you rolled your eyes. how was the this dense  and also a genius at the same time? “no, it’s because i’m trained for this job and back there… that was me using my training. so i’m sorry i was doing exactly what i’m employed to do!” you shouted. 

spencer shouted back, “so to you, doing your job means that you get to not follow orders?” he asked with heavy breaths. “do you realize how risky that is?” 

“yes, i do.” you nodded, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. “but im safe, and the monsters are in jail. that’s all that matters.” 

“what about me?” he asked. 

you crossed your arms. “what about you?” you wondered. 

“you really don’t know what it’s like to see someone you really care about after they’ve almost died.” spencer stepped closer and his voice got quiet. 

you frowned and tilted your head to the side to keep your eyes on his. he looked away at the floor. “i don’t doubt it was scary, but i’m here, spencer.” you smiled softly at him. “i’m right here.” 

he let his eyes meet yours again. the inside of his cheek was held between his teeth as he contemplated what to do next. he knew he was being too hard on you but he just didn’t want to loose you. instead of opening his mouth to say something else he stepped forward and wound his arms around you, holding you against him in a tight embrace. his face hid away in the crook of your neck. your arms didn’t go around his back in a returning embrace immediately, still on alert for the fight to continue. but it didn’t. he breathed shakily before whispering, “don’t ever do that again.” his voice was low and slightly muffled by your shoulder. 

“okay… okay, i won’t.” you rubbed your hands over the expanse of his back in a comforting motion. 

you stood there in each others arms for a few minutes, just relishing in the feeling of being held. it was also a silent apology from both of you, a reassuring apology. 

“you promise?” he asked. 

you nodded, closing your eyes. “i promise.” you muttered. “just don’t yell at me again.” you told him while pulling away just enough to see him. your hands rested on his waist. 

spencer nodded as he took your hands into his own, letting them hang between you both. his eyes were on the floor. “i’m sorry… i was just… still on edge from the case. i can’t stand the thought of loosing you.” he whispered. 

you craned your neck in a direction so that you’d find spencer’s eyes. “you won’t loose me.” you assured him, squeezing his hands. “and i won’t do that again okay? it hurt enough as it is.” you gestured to your head a little. 

he nodded as relief washed over his worried mind. he squeezed your hands a little before dropping them and wrapping his arms around your frame again. he breathed you in a few times, just to really be sure you were there. safe in his arms. safe in his apartment. 

“it’s late… or early.” you pulled away slowly from him. spencer nodded with a quick brush of your hair behind your ear. 

he glanced at his watch. “yeah. it’s been a long day and you need all the rest you can get.” he told you. 

you nodded. “will sleeping make my gash heal faster?” your hand was in his as you lead him to his bedroom. 

spencer nodded. “actually yes, getting good amounts of sleep can assure your hormones will rebuild that broken tissue because cortisol levels lower while your asleep.” he replied, rambling with information that made you smile. 

“okay, boy genius,” he pulled a face at the same carried on by the whole BAU team, “let’s get to sleep then.” 

he nodded and followed you with getting changed out of your clothes and climbing into his bed with the comforter pulled up to her nose. he grinned at you while he laid in front of you, hand searching to hold yours under the covers. 

you pulled spencer’s hand to your lips. “night, doctor reid.” you murmured, tiredly teasing him.

he smiled at that and closed his eyes. “good night.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: joel miller x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: how a crush looks like when it's mutual between two old men

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1234 (𓁹󠁘◡𓁹)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: middle school crush type cliche's, suggested makeout session

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: reader and joel are around the same age, and reader has a collection of records, he also has a beard. written from Ellie's pov. (its unsettling to see pics of joel smiling bc HES NEVER FCKN HAPPY)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

It's silly to see old men acting nervous, especially with Joel around. He's never really nervous, or at least he doesn't show it. What was it, something about life lessons?

Being as old as they are, knees givin' way, calloused hands, joints ain't like they used to be; you've experienced it all. You've experienced that shame of not knowing the answer in math class, tripping over your own feet or misjudging just how slippery freshly mopped floor is; missing a shot, getting nailed in the face by the stock of your own gun, and getting ambushed by a group of clickers. Most of all, you've experienced many rejections.

And yet...it still seems like you're afraid?

That's what Ellie sees, anyway, with the way you look at each other. You're both smiling, it's sweet, sickeningly so, because you're looking down at your own feet and not even seeing those smiles you're sending each other.

"I, uh, 'ppreciate it. Truly." Joel speaks up first, his eyes flitting up from the fresh cup of warm coffee in his hand to your face. Those eyes stay, with courage, on your face, and maybe he doesn't notice that you're not looking up at him because he's admiring you.

"It's, um," Your smile widens, you shake your head, shrug your shoulders lightly like, "it's nothing."

"No, really." Joel puts the cup down. It makes a loud sound in the cricket-silence, thick awkwardness in the room, and it finally brings your eyes up to his. "This-this stuff is real hard to get your hands on 'round here, 'cuz..." He pauses, suddenly self aware of his ramblin'. "well, I'm sure you know why."

You open your mouth, gape for a moment as the words just on your tongue are suddenly replaced by a conscious mind, "Yeah, I know."

Joel picks his cup back up, but he doesn't take a sip. Instead he takes it in both hands, inducing more sweat to slick up his hand for more than one reason now, "How-how'd you get this stuff, anyway?"

"Traded it."

Obviously. Ellie rolls her eyes, How else does one get stuff around here? It dawns on her the second after that killing is the other way.

"What for?" Joel follows up, thumbing at the top edge of the cup, dangerously close to slipping his finger into the dark, scaldingly hot liquid.

There's humor, finally, from your end that eases a bit of the tension. "You do not wanna know."

"I do!" Joel's quick to object, he stands up a little straighter, his smile widens a little more, "I want to know what I owe you." He says it in a way that enunciates each word correctly, like he was serious, and yet the smile on his face is clearly turning his tone rather playful.

"I, well..." You scratch the hairs of your beard, looking away from his eyes nervously, out the kitchen doorway, out the window to the snowing outside. It's clear your intensions teeter on a yes or a no, to tell him or to not, but you stand on what you've previously said, so as to not cause you the trouble of admitting the truth.

Joel places his coffee down again, except it doesn't bring your eyes to his. He scoffs and crosses his arms, shifting his stance in a way that brings him a tiny bit closer to you, and yet he still looks like the standoffish asshole Ellie likes to joke he is. "It can't be that bad."

"It, it is, that bad." You admit on an impulsive thought, which only further feeds his curiosity.

Joel tries at a guess. "What, a gun?"

"Worse."

"Two guns?" He tries again, although on the same object, because to this old man, Ellie thinks, nothing is worse than the slight increase of the possibility that his world's in danger.

"I–" You're teetering, there, again, and Ellie makes a game of guessing what you'll decide. It's a yes this time 'round, she can see it in the way you're beginning to close your eyes, to wince, to prepare for his disappointment. "A record."

"What?!" Joel explodes, almost immediately, because he knows you love those things, that you collect them. You'd give up such a priceless piece of your collection just to give him something he'll consume, something so momentary that it's almost entirely—no, it is not worth it.

"It's–" You open your eyes again, to look at him, moving your hands frantically to ease him. "It's fine, really, a small thing, I barely listen to it."

"You have your records on a cycle, damnit! You put them on a cycle so that you can listen to all of them an equal amount, so nothing goes unappreciated!" It's something so particular, so unnoticeable, that even Ellie didn't know that.

"Joel–"

It's petty, frustratingly so to the spectator, Ellie. It's just a record, and coffee is just coffee; but she's barely sixteen, and she doesn't know the emotional attachments to these things the two of you do.

She doesn't know the bliss Joel finds in coffee, but you do; and she doesn't know the escape that those damn music records are to you, but Joel does.

"I'm sorry." Joel opens his eyes, stops pinching the bridge of his nose. It's an immediate deflation of emotions that Ellie would've liked to laugh at. "That's, a record. It's a lot to you."

"It is," You agree, not downplaying it anymore. Or, well, "it's just–" some low quality band, he stops you with a pointed look.

You look at him, eyes at full attention, accepting defeat and yet the way your eyes...Ellie can see admiration. "You do." And when you say it, it's not in a self-righteous way, but a simple fact.

"I owe you." He says, with finality; he won't take no for an answer.

You stare at each other, just a couple of seconds, no words, nothing about the fact you're starin' at each other, just unspoken, yet still visible appreciation in the look you share.

You two were and are just so caught up with each other that you'd forgotten she was even there at all. She must admit, it's very sweet, but she likes her foods more savory.

"You guys are pathetic." Ellie finally speaks up, a look of evident. played disgust on her face.

There's a snap and a jump and now you're about two feet away from each other again. You're looking away from each other, Joel's eyes are on the floor, yours are to the roof, and it's just so hilarious; and finally, finally, Ellie gets to laugh.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Joel and him are talking again. It's too sweet, the way they avoid looking at each other, well, actually, they can actually keep eye contact now. At least for a couple minutes, anyway. He touches his beard when Joel makes him nervous, and Joel fingers at his jacket like he's pulling a trigger. What are these two, twelve?

—

Maybe they're not just talking now. I saw Joel checking him out, totally indecent behavior you definitely do not want to see from your so-called father figure.

—

I think they just came back from making out. OK. Yeah. They did. It looks like his beard has lost a patch. Figuratively speaking, of course. Joel's hair is messy and his jacket's buttons are all wrong. Gross.

—

Maybe I've warmed up to sweets.

[riverbutghost]

Cold But Warm

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your lieutenant found a safe cabinet. And once all of the adrenaline left your body, you realized that you got a little wounded, which led to you and your lieutenant to have a conversation.

Warnings: blood, military stuff, strong language, Simon acts like an asshole ‘cause he’s scared… Also, this is so rushed and i don’t like this one but here we go lol

Masterlist ~ check my other fics if you like this <3

Also, please send me requests lol

Russia was cold, as usual. But it was December, and you were wandering around in the Russian forests. It was something else.

“I’m freezing!”

Simon huffed at you. He was starting to get sick of your complaints. He gritted his teeth.

“Stop whining like a fuckin’ child.”

You rolled your eyes. He was a good soldier, he would never complain about his surroundings or anything at all. You admired him sometimes, all the time.

He was one of the best, his tactics were always impressive. His flirting skills were impressive too.

“You had said something about needing time?”

His steps faltered for a second. He returned being cold and dismissive in a second as well.

“I don’t remember.”

“Back at the base, like three days ago or something.“

He shrugged. You were starting to get annoyed at him for not giving a fuck. He was always like this.

“Can you slow down for a second? Jesus…”

You gripped his arm hard enough to make him falter. He turned around, took three steps towards you in an angry way. You stepped back at the same time as he took a step towards you.

Your feet slipped and all of a sudden you were on the ground. You groaned at the pain in your butt. He hovered over you menacingly. His eyes weren’t the soft ones you knew. There was something there, an anger.

“I said I don’t fuckin’ remember. Can’t you just shut that stupid mouth of yours for a second? I’m trying to hear something for fuck’s sake!”

You narrowed your eyes at his tone and anger. You wished you had teamed up with Soap instead, but Price wouldn’t let you anyway.

You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at his sudden change in behavior towards you.

What could have happened in a week for him to change?

“Get up sergeant.”

He turned around, started stepping away from your flinched form. You wondered why he was that angry. Surely, the comms weren’t working because of the weather. But there had to be something else. Something you couldn’t get your finger on.

You got up, took quick steps towards him. His posture was sharp, ready for anything. You averted your eyes from him after checking him out.

“Focus,” You mumbled to yourself, for thinking about him, your superior, that way. What were you, a high school student?

He was a distraction.

-

“S- Ghost?”

You waited for his reply as you breathed a long sigh, the journey was clearly exhausting. And you found nothing, not a single rock because of the snow. It was hard.

You were sweating one second, then feeling cold. Your vest was useless for this weather. You just hoped you wouldn’t freeze.

“Someone’s here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You couldn’t see anything.

“Wha-“

Simon pushed you out of the way at the same time the shots started coming. You coughed a little then rolled over to your side, your gun ready to shoot anything. You looked down, gasped at how close you were to the cliff. It wasn’t that deep, but still.

Simon was behind a tree, you were laying on the ground. He was a few feet away from you, shooting at anything and everything. You watched him shooting, at the same time trying to make sure you were okay while talking to his comm. He was a multitasker. For sure.

You got up quickly, a slight pain tugging at your lower abdomen. You brushed it off, your heart pounding with nervousness. You crouched.

You quickly hid yourself behind a tree next to Simon.

“Where did they come from?!” You yelled over the noise.

Simon grunted. He wasn’t panicking like you do, again proving that he was always a good soldier.

“I don’t fucking know.”

You didn’t question anything further than that, he was clearly pissed.

“Fuck- Fuck!”

Simon yelled and threw his gun at the ground, getting a pistol from his holster. Your stomach filled with proud for your teammate Soap, for giving him an extra pistol. You were going to kiss him on his cheeks when you were out of there. If you could.

“We have to move.”

You gulped down your nerves. How could you move in this situation?

“How?”

He turned around, looked at you while reloading his pistol. He tilted his head towards the cliff.

“We’re gonna jump.”

“What?!”

Simon turned again, one hand moving to his throwing knife. He threw the knife right into the enemy’s neck. You reloaded your gun, only to realize there wasn’t any ammo left.

“Fuck! I’m out.”

You panicked, it was a shitty time for you to be out of ammo. You didn’t even have another gun because you forgot. Yeah you fucking forgot.

“Jump! I’ll cover you.”

You looked at him worriedly. It was all happening so fast, and you couldn’t comprehend anything. You were going to die.

“It’s just water, sergeant. I’ll find you.”

You jumped after looking at him with determined eyes. He visibly swallowed.

You couldn’t help but feel scared while falling down to the water. It wasn’t something you liked, God it was the worst thing ever. Your body made contact with the freezing water, and you couldn’t help but get lost in your memories from your past.

The torture, the abuse, the training..

You felt your eyes close, falling and falling in the deepest parts of the water.

-

Simon wasn’t kidding when he had told you he would find you. He was indeed, searching for you.

When he had finished killing them all, he jumped of the cliff because he couldn’t spot you from up there.

He searched through the freezing water, even though his mind was trying so hard not to shut down from the cold.

He spotted you eventually, you were laying down on the snow a few feet away from the water. He rushed towards you, hands immediately gripping your vest and pulling it off. He lowered himself down a little, tried to hear your breathing. You were, to his surprise, breathing slowly. Though your shaking was not normal.

He scooped you up, carrying you safely to the cabin he had found while looking for you.

He kicked the door open with his feet, then pushed it again after entering. He put you down on the soft mattress, which seemed clean enough.

He then started working on the fireplace, trying to make something warm for you.

“Hey,”

He sighed at your soft voice, shaky from the cold. He sighed again after hearing the fire’s cracking noise. He got up and turned around, looking at your shaking form.

“Strip.”

Your breath hitched, your mind going to the past. He realized the mistake he made, and cleared his throat.

“I’ll give you a sheet that I’ve found. Now, strip. Don’t want you to have hypothermia or some shit like that.”

You nodded, still looking at him. His eyes moved from your hair to your face, to your body and you shook.

“Get out?”

Simon cursed himself for a moment, then left the room. He thought about the decision he had made, to stop talking to you unless it’s necessary. It made everything easier, he thought. But no, it didn’t. He was rude to everyone except you, until now. He was rude to you too, to keep you from being a liability to him.

“Uh, Simon ?”

He composed himself, then left the little kitchen. He looked at you, your face a little pale. He hummed, tilting his head a little.

“I think I got shot.”

His face turned serious as you could tell from the mask, he took rushed steps toward you. You were holding the sheet to your body, still shaking from the cold but not as much.

“Let me look,”

A wave of insecurity washed over you. You were totally naked, and he was asking to see your body? Hell no.

“Uhm, let me-“

Simon stood up and took a pillow from the couch. He gave it to you.

“I need to see, c’mon now.”

You pulled the sheets away, holding the pillow to your chest. Simon kneeled down, fingers delicately holding your waist. His serious eyes trembled slightly at the sight. You didn’t get shot, the bullet just grazed the side of your chest.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He looked up to you.

“Does it hurt?”

You swallowed the intense pressure of being naked in front of him, your lieutenant. Your lieutenant who fucked you so good that you forgot your own name-

“No, just feels uncomfortable.”

He nodded then got up. You frowned a little. Why was he acting like that?

“Simon-“

“Gonna go get some water.”

You gulped again. It was like the first time you had met. He was making you nervous, and you didn’t like it one bit. You wanted him to come closer, cuddle you to him while you stroke his hair. Apparently, he had decided to keep things professional. All of a sudden.

He came back with a washcloth and a bowl of water. You gulped down your nerves.

The washcloth softly touched your side, making you suck in a breath.

“Why are you distant all of a sudden?”

His hand stopped for a second. He looked up to your eyes, then back down. He continued tapping your side softly, even though his eyes hardened a little his touch was still gentle.

“I’m not.”

You scoffed. He gripped the washcloth harder than before, and dipped it in the water again.

“Stop it, Simon. Fuck, it hurts.”

His hand stopped midway through, and looked at you. He thought you meant the scratch for a second.

You didn’t mean to tear up, but there it was. Your eyes blurred, and your lips wobbled a little. Simon gripped the bowl, a little pressure more and the bowl would break.

“Stop it.” He said sternly.

You hiccuped, the soft noise clenching Simon’s heart. His knuckles were white under his gloves. He looked down and up again. You were fully crying now, your hands coming to your face.

“You’re all I have-had.”

Tear after tear ran down your cheeks, soft sobs echoing through the little cabin. Simon looked at you, you were slowly crumbling in front of him. He made you feel that way, he crushed you.

Simon put the bowl beside him with shaky hands, then gripped your hands, putting them down. Your eyes found him, softly looking at him.

Simon took the pillow which was hiding your chest and put it down, eyes still looking at you. You didn’t say anything. His hands then found your waist, pulling you to him. You immediately threw your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. He stayed still, rubbing his hand up and down on your back. You sobbed on his shoulder.

Simon’s heart was beating extremely fast, he wasn’t sure if it was heart attack. He was scared. He had never felt this scared about someone before. It was tugging at his heart, and the fact that he made you cry didn’t help but worsen the feelings he had.

“Why?”

Your muffled voice came after a few seconds.

“Thought I had to stay away,”

You cried harder at that, hands gripping his shirt. He had taken off his vest, but still the mask was on.

“Don’t- don’t do that please.”

Simon hugged you harder, tighter. He was stupid for sure, to make a decision like that.

“Never felt like that before,” He mumbled, voice groggy. You sniffled.

“Like what?” You asked.

Simon fell silent. He knew what he was feeling, but didn’t want to admit. He was scared, of losing you too. It was all so complicated, and he was tired. Of all this feelings, it was overwhelming for him.

“M’sorry, pretty girl.”

You shivered at his nickname, remembering the last time he had said it. Your head left his shoulder, and you looked at him.

“You’re so stupid.”

You sniffled, an angry expression visible on your face.

“I’know.”

You licked your lips, then looked at him through your eyelashes. Simon tilted his head. Your hands slowly moved to his face, holding the hem of his mask.

He hummed lowly, his chest vibrating. You slowly took his mask off, giving him enough time to intervene.

Your hands roamed over his face, every detail had already been on your head. You kissed his lengthy scar, making him feel alive again. He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest.

He hummed again and dropped his head to your forehead, mumbling apologies over and over again while kissing your face.

He felt weird, overwhelmed about all of this. He broke his decision in a second just because of you, and he wasn’t regretting it. Not yet anyway.

“Don’t do that again, okay?”

You mumbled, eyes dropping ever so slightly. He hummed, giving one last kiss to your jawline.

“Never, love.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P9)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: The reader is determined to care for Ellie and Joel as he recovers. She meets a seemingly kind man named David, and she struggles with whether to trust him or not.

Masterlist

Part 1 and 10

Author's note: God forbid I ever get straight to the point.

...........................................................

Y/N let out a gasp at Joel's bruising grip on her wrist. 

Maybe she should've warned the man before applying that much pressure to the wound.

But she was panicking, and didn't know what to do with herself.

The strings of hardly heard curses that came from Joel's mouth were like angelic sounds to the woman. 

It meant he was still alive.

And that was enough for her. 

The basement of an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was not exactly the place Y/N wanted to be, but they needed to give Joel time to heal. 

And she was more than willing to do anything for him.

For her Joel.

"Come on, come on, Joel. You gotta help me." She muttered under her breath to him.

He barely tilted his head up to her, "Leave."

Ellie looked over the woman's shoulder, "Shut up, Joel."

"And take the gun."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ellie screamed.

He reached out and grabbed Y/N's collar. With what strength he had left, he pulled her close to his face, "You go north. You go to Tommy."

She shook her head at him hurriedly, only making the man panic further. "S..sweet girl, please."

"You… you just let me stay. How am I supposed to just leave you?"

"Go. GO!" And he pushed her shoulder, making her stumble back onto the floor.

Ellie was frustrated, and went outside to give herself time to breathe.

Y/N moved back towards Joel, letting her fingers gently brush his messy curls from his face, "Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna… stay as long as I need to. Until you're ready to go again."

The gently prodding of her fingers in his hair was whisking him to sleep.

But she needed to hear his voice more before she let him finally succumb, "Joel…?"

She barely heard his replied hum.

"What um… you said you had left a note for me? Well… I was just thinking about it… What did it say?"

"You…" he swallowed, struggling to talk, "You read it when… when you get back to Jackson…"

She shook her head again, "I'm not going. I told you that."

His lips pulled into a very small smile, "You're so pretty. So… so beautiful…"

She watched his eyes close and his body finally relax as he fell asleep.

She let out a sigh, pulling Joel's jacket over his body to give him warmth.

…

Ellie let out a small cry as she tried to give Joel water.

He was still passed out cold, and she had resorted to dripping water from her fingers onto his lips in hopes that he'd take it.

Y/N walked by the sight with a sigh, before leaning down behind the girl, "You're doing alright, baby."

And she kissed Ellie on the top of the head.

Ellie couldn't remember the last time someone did that.

Or even ANY time somebody had done that for her.

"I'm gonna go out… try to hunt." Y/N said. "We're gonna need something if we stay here. Think you can hold down the fort for me, El?"

Ellie nodded. "I can do that."

She smiled, "Good. I'll be back in a few hours. Hopefully with dinner. I won't lie to you, though. I'm not as good of a shot as Joel."

Only then did Ellie finally smile. "Just… promise you'll come back?"

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna leave you, baby."

And Y/N kissed the unconscious Joel on the forehead before heading upstairs.

…

God, Y/N forgot how much she hated the cold.

Especially knowing that Joel wouldn't be able  to warm her up when she got back like he always used to.

But as luck would have it, a beautiful deer was only 20 yards from her.

She smiled, and knelt down to crouch with the gun. 

She remembered Joel's words.

Slow and steady. Gently. 

Gunshot.

Right in its head.

But as luck would have it, someone was ready to take it back with them instead.

…

David sighed, "What do you think?"

James shrugged, "Seems fine to me."

"Alright. Well, let's get it now. I reckon that whoever shot it is not far off."

David kneeled down to grab the deer.

And hear the click of a handgun against his head.

"Don't. Move."

Y/N faked bravery with her words and actions, but inside, she was terrified. 

"Drop your fucking rifles."

The men did so, and Y/N let David stand.

The two men turned around to face her.

They could see the quick rise and fall of her chest even through her heavy coat. The panic in her eyes.

"You're quite a hunter." David reasoned. "We didn't even hear you coming."

"Where the hell did you come from?" She retaliated. 

"We're not here to hurt you." David reasoned again, "Let us have 10 seconds of your time."

"Just answer the goddamn question!" 

"I'm David, this is my friend James. We're from a larger group: women, children, and we're all very, very hungry…"

"Weird," Y/N lied. "I'm from a large group, too. But, I don't steal others' game." 

"Well, even so," David tried again, "ya can't drag this back on your own."

"I can fucking try."

The man sighed, "We're not asking for charity. We can trade you for some of the deer. We have… well, what do you need?"

Y/N was actually considering his offer. Her gun lowered just barely. "…Medicine?"

She didn't notice the way James' jaw clenched.

"We do," David nodded, "Back in our village. You're welcome to follow us."

"I'm not stupid," she scoffed. "You stay with me." She nodded towards James, "He can go get it and come back. Half the deer."

David nodded, "What kind of medicine?"

She let out a shuddered breathe, watching it show in the cold air, "Uh… penicillin? For infections?"

"Alright." He turned to James, "Go talk to Howard. Bring back two bottles and a syringe. It's not code. Do as I say."

Y/N let the barrel of the gun follow James as he stepped away.

"Now, step away from the rifle."

David did so immediately. "Whose gun is that? Your husbands?"

Y/N let out a scoff. She picked up David's rifle and slung it over to shoulder along with Joel's. 

"None of your fucking business."

"Is he sick? Is that why you're out here instead of him?"

Y/N just shook her head and his antics. 

"Well, look. It's a four-mile round trip back to our settlement. It's gonna be a while before James gets back. I have some oil and matches in my pack. We could.. uh… take shelter. Start a fire."

She pursed her lips. 

The man seemed sincere.

"Alright. But you drag the deer."

…

"So, what's your name?"

Y/N scrunched up her nose as she looked down to her gun that rested on the floor near her crossed legs.

"It's hard to trust strangers. I know," David nodded. "But, I honestly mean you no harm."

She was cursing herself for her big fucking heart.

David seems to notice her internal battle. "For what it's worth, there's room for you in our group."

She shook her head, "I'm not interested in your… hunger club or whatever."

"I'm just a man tryna take care of the people who rely on me. Like… whoever is sick that's relying on you now."

"So, you're their leader?"

"Wasn't my choice. It was theirs. But… yeah."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Well, I'm a preacher. It's not a cult thing… just standard Bible stuff."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "After all this, you still believe in that?"

He smiled, "I actually started believing after the world ended."

A hint of a smile rested on the woman's face. "Interesting. Well, I'm sorry to have crossed paths with you like this. Maybe in another life, I would've joined your group. But I have my own."

David nods, "Well, I believe everything happens for a reason."

She scoffed slightly.

"It's true!" He laughed. "It does. I can prove it to you!"

She laughed, "Alright. Shoot."

"Well, we didn't expect this winter to be so harsh. Hard to find game. So, I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could. And… only three of them came back."

Oh fuck.

She tried to keep her face from showing any emotion.

"Turns out," David continued, "He was murdered by this crazy man. And get this: That crazy man was traveling with a little family. A wife and a girl."

Y/N leaned back, letting her hand slowly wander back to her gun on the floor.

"See?" David smiled. "Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun."

Her body went into flight mode, jumping up and pointing her handgun at James. But his rifle was already aimed at her.

"She's the one that killed Alec, isn't she?" James asked.

"She didn't kill anybody," David smiled. "Lower the gun."

James hesitantly did so.

Y/N felt like she was suffocating.

"Did you being the medicine?" David asked.

James nodded, "I did, but-"

"-Give it to her."

He held the medicine out, and Y/N slowly approached him and took it.

She then began to back away, deciding to go without the deer.

"I know you're not with a group," David said. "You won't survive long. I can protect you."

She shook her head. "I don't need your help. We're fine on our own."

Then, she took off in a sprint.

…

"Ellie? ELLIE!" Y/N screamed as she ran into the house.

Ellie immediately ran up the stairs to the woman, pulling her into a hug. "Did you get it?"

She shook her head, "No… I… I'm sorry. But, I got something for Joel." She pulled out the penicillin.

"What is that?"

Y/N smiled widely, "It's medicine. I got him medicine."

…

The next day, Y/N had volunteered to go out to scoop snow for Joel.

She was trying to not freak out Ellie about what had happened the previous day.

Which meant she didn't tell Ellie about it at all, and volunteered for anything that was outside of the house.

So, when a few of David's men showed up in the neighborhood, she was thankful that she was the one out there instead of her girl.

"Stay alert," David said, "If this man's not already dead, he's dangerous."

"And the girl and the woman?"

"We bring them back with us."

James sighed, "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David. We can let them go. But, we bring them back with us, they're just more mouths to feed."

"If we leave them out here, they'll die."

"Yeah," James retaliated, "Well, maybe that's God's will."

David turned to look at James, but didn't say a word.

…

"Ellie. Joel." Y/N whispered when she finally made it back to the house.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ellie worried.

"You need to stay here. Stay quiet. There are… fuck… there are men outside. I have to go." 

Y/N kneeled by Joel's head, taking it in her hands, "Wake up. Joel, honey, wake up."

She smiled as his eyelids barely opened to reveal his dark eyes.

"There are men that are coming, okay? I'm gonna lead them away from you two but if anybody makes it down here, you…" she looks up at Ellie in exasperation. "…you gotta fucking kill them. Don't… don't hesitate."

She stood, "And don't let Joel sleep."

She wanted to hold Ellie and tell her it would be okay.

She wanted to kiss Joel again and feel his warm breath on her face.

She wanted a lot of things.

But wants weren't allowed anymore.

She hurried upstairs. 

…

She knew she couldn't fight them.

And she couldn't outrun them.

Maybe she would just have to surrender herself to save them.

Then Ellie and Joel could find her. 

Or they could die in the cold.

Better than dying at the hands of these men.

She wandered down a few street, as far as she could to keep them from looking in the house that Joel slept in.

She had to fake confusion.

Her plan was in action.

When the man rounded the corner, she pretended to be tying her horse to a tree.

And she feigned surprise when she heard the clicking of their guns.

She turned around with a worried expression, "oh, shit." She murmured. "…David?"

He smiled, "You know, I never caught your name."

"Why do you want it so bad?"

He shrugged, "I just… like ya or something. You have this… way about you. You draw people in."

She shook her head, "Well… I guess you came in time."

He tilted his head in confusion, "In time… for what?"

She had to pinch herself to make the tears come, "They… they're dead."

David's face turned to one of remorse, "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. That can't be an easy feeling. A now childless widow. But don't worry." He smiled at her as he approached, "We'll take care of you."

"David…?" James asked.

He turned to look over his shoulder, "What's one more mouth, James?"

But when David turned back to Y/N, she punched him as hard as she could in his jaw.

And she ran.

It threw the men off, and they weren't sure what to do.

But as they ran after her, David's voice traveled through the cold air, "ALIVE!"

It was harder to run in the snow than she thought.

But those thoughts stopped when she hit a brick wall.

James.

He grabbed her throat, cutting off her air supply.

She gasped under his grip until her face started to lose color.

Now real tears were falling from her eyes.

Especially when she felt her body give way.

David made his way over to the unconscious body. He picked her up gently before turning to the men. "You want vengeance? Go door to door. Find him. Deliver it."

And the preacher began to walk back to camp with Joel's most delicate and precious possession in his arms.

...............................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[ddejavvu]

Seeing Aaron for the first time with the fbi vest on 👀 the vest stays ON 😉

just know i wanted this to have the same energy as the scene where derek gets shot and he flashes his bandaged abs at penelope and she just pets them like 😵

--

The door clicks shut behind you, soft and smooth. It's a sound you're well accustomed to now, and not even the soft sizzle of the oil in your frying pan can trick you into ignoring it. You've got a trained ear for the click, because it means that Aaron's home.

He closes the door near-silently because he's nervous about waking Jack up. Even though it's mid-afternoon, old habits die hard.

As it happens, today is a day that Jack naps. He's passed out, spread starfish over your bed, head on Aaron's pillow and leg thrown over one of yours. You'd run him ragged at the playground today, and you're using the down time to make yourself some stir-fry.

"Aaron," You call, your voice a soft hum so that it doesn't disturb Jack from the other room, "In the kitchen."

"Hi, honey." He murmurs, arms slipping around you from behind, "Early day today, we just helped the local PD with an arrest. They needed a door-breaker, and Morgan is legend. 'Figured I'd let everyone off early to get some lunch."

You let out a soft laugh at the mention of his bulky agent, you'd recommend him for the job, too. You turn your head to press your lips sloppily against his, an awkward angle but a sweet gesture. He reciprocates as best he can, eyes fluttering shut.

"Jack here?" Aaron inquires after you part, nose tucked into your neck.

"Yeah," You hum, eyes on your stir-fry as it sizzles, though you're leaning into Aaron practically hard enough to knock him down, "He's napping. I wore him out at the park."

"Good job," Aaron chuckles, squeezing your waist. He makes to toe off his shoes by the door, but when he separates from you a soft rrrip is heard, one that strikes fear into your heart for the pretty blouse you're wearing.

"What-?" You peer down, expecting to see a hole in your shirt. Instead, you catch a thick black strap that hangs off of Aaron's chest, in fact, there's several, lining up and down his- oh, fuck.

He's wearing his bulletproof vest. The dark grey material molds tight to his abdomen, straps stretching around his torso. It only adds heft to his build, something that makes your mouth water. If Aaron notices any drool, he attributes it to the smell of the stir-fry on the stove.

"You..." You reach out to brush your finger over the bottom of the vest, "You brought home your vest?"

"Kind of forgot about it," He shrugs, watching the cloudy look in your eyes, "Everything okay?"

"Mhm," You hum casually, "Yeah that's- this is more than okay. It's... is this something you wear a lot?"

"Uh, every time I think someone might have a gun," He chuckles bewilderedly, "What is up with you?"

"Nothing." You breathe, looking up at him dazedly. He's staring at you, entirely unconvinced, but he doesn't have time to drill you any more when you take hold of his chin, dragging him into a kiss.

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. You feel his hands encase your cheeks, pulling you closer even if your hands are doing so around his sides. You brace your palms against his vest, feeling the way that it gives him an extra layer of stomach, like a muscle of it's own, always flexed.

"Not that I'm-" Aaron speaks, but his words muffle when you keep pressing incessant kisses to his bottom lip, "-complaining, but- what is this about?"

"You look damn good in that vest, Hotchner." You purr, stir-fry the last thing on your mind as your thigh comes up to stick to his side, "Jack's asleep on our bed, just take me here."

"Uh, wow." His eyes widen, not negatively so, though, as a laugh escapes his throat. You're tempted to swallow it, but you're more focused on his neck, now, nipping down the heated skin.

"First of all," He reaches forward to turn off the stove, nudging the pan onto a back burner, "Sex would be unpleasant in a burning building. And second," He grips your thigh in one hand, fingers digging roughly into your flesh so that it bulges between his fingers, "The kitchen counter won't be comfortable for you. Let's do the couch instead, honey."

[fanfoolishness]

Growing Pains

This one came to me as a combination of prompts from @thecoffeelorian (who sent Tech and Crosshair + Cadet as a prompt!) and @summer-of-bad-batch, whose week 1 prompt was water gun fight. Somehow my brain mashed them together and here we are!

Crosshair has trouble sleeping, but Tech has an idea for a distraction. Cadet Batch, brothers being brothers, pure fluff. ~1700 words.

-

Tap tap tap.

Tap.

Tap tap.

Crosshair growled, rolling over in his bunk and kicking his legs out from under his blanket.  “Tech,” he warned.

There was no answer. Crosshair lay on his back, scowling up at the ceiling.  He reached down and rubbed his shins, wincing.  They throbbed and ached. 

More growing pains. He was so sick of them.  Nala Se said they were normal, that pain medication wouldn’t help. Crosshair wished he could just grow up already and be done with them.

He lifted his hand, nibbling at the dry skin around his fingernails, biting at it until he tasted blood.  He frowned, balling his hand into a fist and jerking it away.

Tap tap.

“Will you stop tinkering and go to sleep?” Crosshair hissed.  

“Hm?” Tech asked from across the room, where he was working on a half-scuttled battle droid under the light of a single glow lamp.

What he was doing with it, Crosshair had no idea, but the nagging tapping wasn’t helping him get to sleep any faster.  Especially not with the way his shins pulsed and ached.

“Put that thing away and go to sleep,” Crosshair snapped. “Haven’t you noticed it’s been lights out for hours?”

“You can usually sleep through my projects,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. He got up, padding over to Crosshair and peering closely at him. Despite the late hour Tech looked as alert as ever, though his brownish hair was rumpled and dark grease smudged his cheeks.  “Why are you still awake?”

Crosshair sat up with a scowl.  “Because you’re annoying.”

Tech raised his eyebrows at him, unperturbed. “I’m no more annoying than I usually am.”

Crosshair sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.  “My legs hurt,” he confessed.  

“Oh. Growing pains.  They’re no fun.”  Tech paused, looking closely at him.  He reached out and grabbed Crosshair’s hand, examining his fingers.  “You should stop biting those, you know.”

“Shut up.”  He yanked his hand away.  “I know.  I just -- I start and it’s hard to stop sometimes.  Especially if something else is bugging me.”

Tech sat down beside him, sitting with him back to back.  Crosshair felt some of his tension fade, and he leaned into his brother, closing his eyes.  He was so tired.

But his legs twinged, as painful as ever.

“So why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked Tech, trying to keep his mind off his legs.

“I’m trying to figure out how to reprogram this droid,” Tech said.  “Make it fight for us instead.  I know it’s a training droid, so it won’t really be fighting at all, but it’s good practice.  Maybe it’s something I could do on the battlefield, once we get our shot.”  

“Huh,” said Crosshair, impressed.  “That would be good.”  He was quiet for a minute, thinking.  “Don’t you get tired staying up, though?  You could do this stuff during the day.”

Tech fiddled with his goggles.  “I could.  But we have other training then.  I want to learn as much as I possibly can, but since we grow so quickly, that translates into less time.”  He shrugged.  “And I don’t really get tired when I’m focused.  It’s as if I go into my own little world.”

Crosshair stifled a snort.  That was an understatement.  “I’ve noticed,” he said, but considered.  He thought he knew what Tech meant.  “Like when I’m planning a really hard shot?  Everything else goes away.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Crosshair wished he had that kind of focus now.  His legs ached with another horrible set of pulses, and he rubbed at them with both hands, swearing under his breath.

“It’s particularly bad tonight, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Crosshair admitted.

“You know what helps me?” Tech asked.  “Distraction.  I may have just the thing.”  He trotted back to his tangles of wires and tools.  Crosshair watched him, wondering if they’d wake up Wrecker and Hunter.  But Hunter had buried his head under his pillow, and Wrecker could sleep through anything.

“If you want me to tear apart droids with you, thanks but no thanks,” said Crosshair. He was okay with basic datapad work, but hopeless at the intricate stuff Tech managed to do without breaking a sweat.  “They don’t make any sense to me.”

“You could learn if you wanted. You’re very bright.  Not at my level, but still —“

“Tech.”

Tech finished rummaging in his pile of projects and came back to Crosshair, pressing something into his hands.  “Here.”

Crosshair looked down at what appeared to be a small white blaster, but with a curious tank attached to it.  He lifted it and heard it slosh.  “What is it?”

“A water blaster,” said Tech. “They won’t let us have real blasters to practice with in here, of course, but I thought I’d try making something like this for practice.”  He held up a little board of shiny white material with a black target drawn on it.  “Where do you want this?”

Crosshair grinned.  “Across the room. Give me a challenge.”

“You might find it’s more of one that you think,” said Tech. “You’ll have to account for gravity, and the minimal propulsive capabilities of this water blaster compared to the real thing.”

“Hm. I’ll be the judge of that,” said Crosshair, experimentally squirting Tech with the blaster between the eyes.  Water dripped down his nose and splattered on his goggles.

“Very funny,” Tech said, mopping his forehead and lenses with his sleeve.  He flashed Crosshair one of his little half-smiles.  “All right, let me find a spot to stick this.”

“Try over here,” Hunter groaned. “Since you two are keeping me awake anyway.”  He tapped the top of his bunk.  “I think… it’ll take Crosshair four tries before he gets a bullseye.”

“Four?” Crosshair asked, offended, as Tech affixed the target above Hunter’s bunk, across the room.  He took aim with the blaster, lining up his shot, figuring that the water would take a parabolic motion at that distance.  He fired slightly higher than the target —

And the water splashed harmlessly onto the floor a good meter away.  

Crosshair stared at the dry target, infuriated.  “You didn’t tell me this thing had no power!”

“Well, look at it,” Tech chuckled. “Do you see a power source? I just put it together with some spare casing material and a simple plunger. It’s significantly limited.  That’s why I had it set aside, I’m sure I could design something much more effective if I had the time.”  Tech sat down again amongst his wires, resuming his fiddling.

Hunter yawned, sitting up and running a hand through his shaggy hair.  “Maybe four was too generous. Maybe I should make it five tries.”

Crosshair glowered.

“What are you all blabbering about?” Wrecker mumbled. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

“Crosshair’s trying out a new weapon,” Hunter said.  Which was the wrong thing to say around Wrecker.

“What!” Wrecker cried in excitement.  He tried to get out of his bunk, but was so tangled in his blankets that he rolled onto the floor with a thump.  From there he propped himself up on his elbows, all hint of sleepiness forgotten.  “New weapon? Where’d you get it? How’d you sneak it in? What’s it do? Can’t believe you were holding out on me —“

“It’s Tech’s. It’s just a water blaster, and not a very good one,” Crosshair said, taking aim, adjusting based on the disappointing performance of his last shot.  He experimented by slightly covering the barrel of the pistol with his fingernail, narrowing the opening, and shot a jet of water out the end. It sailed across the room, falling short of the target again but hitting Hunter square in the face.

He grinned.  That would do nicely.

“Oh that does it, Crosshair,” Hunter grumbled, wiping his face off.  “Tech! You got any more of these things?”

“Yes, I made enough for all of us,” Tech said mildly.  “Though as I said before, the design could be better…” He searched through his piles of debris and pulled out three more blasters, tossing one each to Hunter and Wrecker before whirling and squirting them both in the face with his own.

“Oh, it’s on!” Wrecker roared, rolling out of his blankets and squirting Tech three times, then training his blaster on Crosshair.

“Oh no you don’t —“

The battle was pitched and bloody.  Crosshair leapt from his bunk to take cover behind the crate that held their dirty laundry, sending out jets of water that spritzed his brothers dead in the face every time.  Wrecker charged him, wearing a blanket as armor, water from his blaster flying everywhere.  Hunter circled around on the outskirts of the fray, catching Tech from behind, but Tech pulled out a secret fifth water blaster and squirted both Hunter and Crosshair at once. 

They howled with battle cries, erupting into a mad scuffle in the center of the room, water splashing into the air, limbs a tangled frenzy.  

“I’m gonna get you!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“You’re all dead!”

“We’ll see who has the upper hand now!”

At last the battle came to a close.  By the time they flopped onto their backs panting with exhaustion, Wrecker had a (self-inflicted) bloody nose, Hunter’s head was drenched, Tech’s goggles were halfway across the room and Crosshair had stolen all five of the blasters for himself.  

“We should do this every night,” Wrecker snorted, pinching his nose shut.

Hunter laughed, elbowing him.  “Well, it was pretty fun.”

“It was certainly a good distraction.”

Crosshair took aim with one of his blasters at the target over Hunter’s bunk.  The spray drenched the bullseye perfectly.  “There.  Three,” he said in triumph, sticking his tongue out at Hunter.

“Haha, nice one, Cross!”

“Ahhh, I knew you had it in you.  I only said four to piss you off.”

“Not that that is difficult.”

“Hey, that’s -- okay, that’s true.”

Crosshair lay on his back near his brothers, still catching his breath, his eyelids getting heavy.  He put his hands under his head and stretched out on the floor.  With the blankets Wrecker had managed to hurl around the room beneath him, he was pretty comfortable.  

Comfortable enough to stay here, just a little longer.  He yawned and his eyes fell closed.  

He drifted off to sleep, and his legs didn’t hurt at all.

[likablemuffin]

Its nice that blood is red against snow (Whumptober)

(From: Random ROTTMNT oneshots)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 19: Blood Trail

So...this hadn't exactly been...the best time ever.

Donnie had said that there was a group of mutants that was stealing things from people and hiding away in a forest near NYC to stash them. Honestly, the fact that they hadn't been caught yet was quite impressive, considering the fact that Donnie was able to so easily find out basically everything about them.

So, even though it was in the middle of the winter and there was snow everywhere, the Mad Dogz set out to stop the criminals. And honestly? It wasn't going that bad!.... At first... they had found the villains hideout pretty easily, but they did not expect the villains to have literal guns. 

So they were all running around and dodging the bullets. Thankfully, the mutants weren't very good at aiming, considering the fact that they accidentally shot each other a few times. So the turtles were able to take back a lot of the stuff the mutants had stolen. 

"Leo! Portal us out of here!" Raph yells at Leo from across the battlefield. Leo was literally dancing around the bullets, but he stops when he hears Raph calling to him. "You got it, hermano!" Leo opens a portal next to Raph and Donnie, and they both jump through. Leo turns around to see Mikey tying up a whole bunch of the mutants. 

"Hey, Mikey! We gotta go, bro!" Mikey turns to face Leo and starts running over to him. However, the thing that Mikey doesn't notice is that one of the mutants is aiming his gun directly at him. Leo notices though. "MIKEY!" Leo quickly opens a portal behind where Mikey is standing and lunges at Mikey to push him in. 

However, the mutant still fires the gun, and instead of it shooting Mikey, it shoots Leo's leg. Leo cries out as he and Mikey fall into the portal and disappear. The mutants (that are still alive. A few of them were actually killed from their careless shooting.) looks at each other and then the places where the turtles disappeared. One of them, the boss, starts yelling at the others. "WHY WOULD YOU LET THEM GO????" "You think I just let them go?! I didn't know they were going to have portals!" "OH MY GOSH, YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT."

_______________________________________________________

Raph and Donnie stumble through the portal with all the stolen stuff. "Phew! Thank goodness those guys weren't good at aiming those guns!" Raph says as he dusts some snow off of himself. Donnie stands up and fixes his goggles that had partly fallen off his head when he went through the portal. "Yeah. I can shoot way better than those bastards." Raph scoffs and glares at Donnie. "I thought I said no swearing?" Donnie looks at him with an unimpressed expression and starts picking up some of the stuff off of the floor with his metal arms. "Well, I guess I didn't hear you."

Raph groans and face palms. He then turns around to see if Leo and Mikey are in the lair yet. He's very surprised to see that they're both nowhere to be seen. "Hey, Donnie?" Donnie pauses from picking stuff off the floor and turns to Raph with a questioning look. "Yeah?" "Where are Leo and Mikey? Shouldn't they be here by now?" Donnie shrugs and looks at his tech gauntlet trackers. "Well, I suppose we can...see?" 

Raph quickly walks to Donnie's side to also look at the gauntlet. "What? Whats wrong??" Donnie taps on his gauntlet a few times. "They're both out in the middle of nowhere..." Raph screams in Donnie's ear. "WHAT?! ARE THEY OKAY??" Donnie puts one of his fingers on Raph's mouth. "Please don't scream so loud in my ear." 

Raph blushes slightly from embarrassment. "Ah, sorry, Dee." Donnie waves his hand. "Its fine. But why do you think I would know if they're okay or not?" Raph starts running over to the garage, where the turtle tank is. "Lets go find them then!" As Raph runs into the garage, Donnie runs after him. "HEY! DONT START UP THE TURTLE TANK WITHOUT ME! YOU'LL BREAK IT!!"

__________________________________________________________

The first thing Mikey sees after being smashed into one of Leo's portals is Leo himself. Leo's arm is over Mikey protectively, and he's looking at Mikey. "H-Hey bud...you okay?" Leo's voice trembles as he speaks. "Yeah, I-I'm fine. What about you?" Mikey starts sitting up but stops when Leo releases a hiss of pain. "Leo? Are you hurt?" Leo attempts to smile at Mikey, but it ends up just looking like a grimace. "Nah, I'll b-be fine..." 

Mikey huffs. "I know you're lying. What hurts?" Leo looks around awkwardly and attempts to sit up himself. However, he has to stop halfway through trying and lay back down again. "Leg..." Mikey sits up fully and looks at Leo's leg, being very surprised to see that Leo's leg has a bullet hole in it and is currently bleeding everywhere.

"OHMIGOSH- Leo! Why didn't you tell me you got shot?!" Leo attempts to shrug while lying down. "It really isn't that bad..." Mikey frowns. "It certainly looks bad to me!" Leo shivers from lying down in the snow for so long, and Mikey realizes they should probably get into somewhere where there isn't so much snow. 

"Leo? Can you walk?" Leo shakes his head gently. "I-I don't know if I can, Mike..." Mikey frowns again and stands up to view their surroundings. The snow around Leo's leg has turned a dark red, and only from seeing that does Mikey realize how dire this situation is. Mikey crouches down next to Leo. "Maybe I could help you walk? All that I know is that we can't stay here, and it looks like you lost your swords..." Leo attempts to push himself up with his arms, and he does manage to push himself off the ground a bit. "Yeah, we c-can try..." 

Mikey nods and reaches one of his hands out to Leo so Leo can take it. Leo slowly reaches towards Mikey's hand and manages to grab it. Mikey starts carefully lifting Leo up off of the ground. Leo hisses in pain when it gets to him having to actually stand up. "Leo, come on, we gotta go..." Leo looks at Mikey. "S-Sorry, it just really really hurts." After a few more minutes of struggling to find out a good way to get Leo off the ground, Mikey finally manages to help Leo up.

Leo instantly leans almost all his body weight on Mikey, to which Mikey almost falls over. Leo notices this pretty quickly and tries to put less weight on him. "Jeez, sorry, Mikey..." Mikey shakes his head. "No no! Its alright! Now, can we try to walk?" Leo nods, and Mikey starts trying to get Leo to take very small steps. 

Leo almost falls over a few times, but they're able to walk quite a bit from the original spot they were. However, over time, Leo starts to get a bit more sluggish and unable to take as many steps. Mikey notices this and starts walking a bit slower. 

After even more walking and Leo barely being able to keep himself up, they spot a cabin. It doesn't look old, so it's probably someone's summer cabin. "Leo, look! A cabin! Do you think you can make it over there?" Leo shakes from the cold, but he still manages a smile at Mikey. "Y-Yeah, I should be able t-to." Mikey smiles back at him, and they continue walking. 

When they reach the cabin, Mikey checks inside the windows to make sure no one is in it. There isnt. Of course, the door is locked, but Mikey is able to literally just rip off the doorknob. Leo's feet are basically dragging on the ground at this point, and the moment Mikey and Leo enter the cabin, Leo falls. Thankfully, Mikey is just barely able to catch him before he hits the floor. "Leo-!" 

Mikey carefully lays Leo on the floor. "Good job, Leo." Leo smiles shakily at him. "T-Thanks..." Mikey takes Leo's medic pouch and starts shifting through it to find something to help Leo. Leo's eyes start to drift shut, and Mikey has to quickly shake him to keep him awake. "Don't pass out on me, Lee!" Leo groans from being shaken, but he nods none the less.

Mikey ends up finding some gauze that he wraps around Leo's leg. Leo hisses in pain when Mikey tightens it, and Mikey instantly feels bad. "I'm sorry, Leo! I'm just trying to stop the bleeding." Leo feebly starts speaking. "T-The bullet..." Mikey looks at him confused for a bit before he realizes what Leo's trying to say. "Yeah, the bullet is still in your leg, but I don't think we have anything to get it out right now...but when Raph and Donnie show up, we'll fix you up as good as new, okay?" Leo gently nods and lays his head on the floor. Mikey sighs and gets more gauze to tie around Leo's leg. 

______________________________________

"What do you mean the trackers stopped working?!" Raph shouts from where he's driving the turtle tank. Donnie groans and yells as loud as he can across the tank. "I DONT KNOW WHY! THEY JUST STOPPED WORKING!!" Raph stops the tank and gets out of the driver's seat to walk to Donnie's side. "Do you think it's because of the snowstorm?" Donnie starts basically punching his tech gauntlet. "Probably, and it being a fucking snowstorm doesn't make me feel any better about the fact OUR BROTHERS ARE OUT THERE." 

Raph stands next to Donnie, unsure of what to do for a bit. "Well... maybe there's something outside that'll tell us where they went? This is around the spot that they first showed up after portalling away, right?" Donnie stops smacking his gauntlet screen and looks up at Raph. "Yeah, but what could there possibly be that would tell us where they are?" Raph walks over to the door of the turtle tank, opening it and stepping outside. 

He gets instantly hit by a blast of cold air, but he still manages to look around. As he looks around, he notices something that not only makes him feel instant relief but also instant fear.

It was a blood trail.

Raph steps back into the turtle tank. "It's not exactly the nicest thing ever...but I found a lead. I don't think we'll be able to follow it in the turtle tank though." Donnie runs up to Raph. "Really?! What is it?" Raph grimaces and looks behind him through the doorway. "A blood trail.." "WHAT?!" Donnie instantly runs out of the door and starts following the trail. "A- DONNIE!" Raph calls after Donnie as he starts following the blood trail too. "WAIT FOR ME, DONNIE!!"

After Raph finally catches up to Donnie, Donnie takes out two flashlights from his battle shell. One for Raph, and one for himself. They continue following the trail and trying their best to not lose it, which is a bit hard since the snowstorm keeps covering over parts of the trail. And even though it's not exactly the prettiest sight, Donnie and Raph find themselves stressing every time the blood trail stops from more snow covering it.

They continue following it until they come to a cabin, which is clearly where the trail ends. A random doorknob rolls towards Donnie, probably thanks to the wind blowing it. Yep, Leo and Mikey are here.

Donnie and Raph start to climb up the stairs, and Raph knocks on the door. Raph has never been more happy to hear Mikey's voice. "H-Hello?" Raph instantly rips the door off its hinges, not even thinking about the fact that the cabin is probably someone else's. Raph definitely doesn't like the scene that he sees in the cabin. Mikey is sitting on the floor holding Leo, who not only has tons of bandages on his leg and looks to be passed out, but he looks genuinely blue. Which, considering the blood trail and bloody bandages, means that Leo has lost a lot of blood. Which is not good.

Donnie rushes in so fast that Raph can swear he felt wind blow his mask tails as Donnie went by. Donnie skids to a stop at Leo's side and starts to check the bandages on Leo's leg. "Was he shot?" He asks Mikey. "Y-Yes. The bullet is still in his leg." Donnie nods. "Probably a good idea to not get it out without any proper equipment. Good job, Michael." Donnie gently pats Mikey on the head and stands up. "Raph? Could you please pick Leo up?" Raph softly walks into the cabin and crouches down to pick Leo up. 

When Raph picks Leo up, Leo groans softly, which causes Raph to almost drop him from shock. Of course though, he doesn't. They all walk out of the cabin and walk back to the turtle tank. When they get inside, Raph gently sets Leo down and goes to start driving the tank. Donnie walks up to Leo, picks him up, sits down, and holds him. Mikey comes up next to him and sits down next to him, putting his head on Donnie's shoulder. "Thank you for showing up..." Donnie looks over at Mikey. "Of course I showed up. I would never be able to forgive myself if I said you two would just be fine and didn't come to get you."

Donnie turns his head around again and is very surprised to feel Mikey start crying. "Mikey..?" Mikey sniffs and gently takes Leo's hand. "I-I thought Leo was going to d-die..." Donnie leans his head onto Mikey's. "Well, he didn't. And he'll be fine, okay?" Mikey sniffs again. "I know... t-thank you, Donnie..." "Of course, little brother." Raph starts up the tank, turns it around, and starts driving back to the lair. And by the time they get back to the lair, Donnie, Mikey, and Leo are all sleeping together in a turtle pile.

The best part is that Leo is smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[chadillacboseman]

The Shepherd's Daughter - II

Pairing: Phillip Graves x F!Reader (Shepherd's daughter)

Warnings: Reader is a CIA agent. Mentions of terrorism, both foreign and domestic, blood, injury, guns, etc. Graves is a whiny, jealous little bitch boy, but when he gets his way OOOOOO. SPOILERS FOR MW2.

Summary: As punishment for the botched infiltration of a domestic terror cell, your father, General Shepherd, pairs you with Shadow Company to retrieve American war assets that have fallen into the wrong hands.

Word Count: 2k maybe?

Part ONE HERE

--

"Are you any closer to finding them?" Your father's voice was tense, on the verge of anger. You sensed that perhaps he had been into the whiskey he kept in his desk drawer ("for emergencies" as he so often joked).

There was no progress update to be given. Every lead you had chased with Shadow Company had been a dead end. You considered, for a moment, lying to him- spinning a tale and trying to make the situation less dire.

It would do you no good. He had an uncanny way of knowing when you were lying, even if all he had to go on was your voice.

"No, sir. We are not," the line was silent at that response and you instinctively tensed, awaiting the inevitable shouting that would come.

But it didn't.

Instead, his voice was even as he asked, "And how is Shadow Company performing?"

The question perplexed you. Did he think of you as his own personal spy? Had Graves been correct in his assumption that your father wanted someone to keep an eye on their operations?

"Well?" Impatient. Nothing the man hated more than waiting.

You took a quick glance around the room to make sure no Shadows had wandered in before answering, "They're...fine, sir. We just don't have many leads to go on."

"Fine?" His anger had finally bubbled to the surface, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are they doing their fucking job or not?"

You held the phone at arm's length until he had finished his tirade before bringing it back to your ear for a rebuttal, "They're well-equipped, efficient. My...reputation makes it difficult to earn their trust, but they are tireless in their efforts."

A grunt of approval on the other end of the line. The deity had been appeased.

"I expect a report at the same time tomorrow."

The line went dead.

Graves watched you from across the room, his blue eyes unwavering as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the body of his rifle. You were staring out the cracked window, your hair moving ever so slightly with the push of the salt-soaked breeze.

You were pretty, something that Graves had began to notice the more time he spent with you. Something that ate at him- frustrated him beyond reason.

He still didn't trust you fully. Hated the way you took phone calls from the general behind closed doors. Graves knew you were reporting back to Shepherd about them- on good days, funding poured in from their benefactor, and on bad ones they barely scraped by with their lives.

"The general giving you grief today?" Graves called across the room.

You shrugged and made a face that distorted your features in the dim lighting of the safehouse. He chuckled and bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting to see if you'd relinquish any further details.

You didn't.

Graves chewed the inside of his cheek and decided to press his luck-

"You been tellin' him how we're doin'? That what the phone calls are for?"

You shot him another look, this time laced with your obvious annoyance at the question; he smiled in return, that disarming smile full of too-white teeth that could almost be mistaken for a shark's maw.

"Just askin', princess. No need for the venom."

He drawled out the cutesy nickname that made your face heat; the other Shadows had dropped it after you'd proved yourself to their standards, but Graves still used it, much to your chagrin.

"I tell him what he asks for," you spat the words a little more harshly than you intended, and you almost felt a pang of guilt when Graves raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"And what does he ask for?" he cocked his head, blue eyes shining under the exposed bulb in the ceiling, "how his lapdog is performing?"

"Your words, not mine, Graves."

"Mhm," he took a step forward and the aging wooden floor creaked under the sole of his boots, "Do ya tell him how my boys are run ragged chasin' his fuck up? How we're stayin' in shitholes like this-" he jerked his head around the room at the cracked walls and exposed wiring, "while he sits in his office?"

"Where are you going with this, Graves?" you sighed through your nose and folded your arms across your chest, "What do you want from me? I've been with you for weeks- if you don't trust me, then-"

Graves cut you off and took another step toward you, his hands still clutching his rifle to the point of whitened knuckles, "I wanna know what the high and mighty Shepherd junior is feeding her daddy dearest when no one is listening."

Something in you snapped.

You shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backward, his eyes wide before he caught himself. An expression flashed across his face that made your stomach drop as he tossed his rifle to the floor.

"Try that again," Graves snarled, his face now twisted in an almost eager grin.

You could try to defuse the situation- tell him this was pointless bickering.

But that something inside you fought back against the urge, burning white hot like a branding iron.

"C'mon, princess. Try it again."

That was the final straw.

You leapt forward and tried to level a knee into his gut, but anger made you sloppy. Graves elbowed you in the middle of your back, nearly snatching the air from your lungs.

"Sloppy work, Shep," he sneered and you brought your head up quickly, making connection with his chin with a crack that radiated through your own skull.

Graves stumbled backward and spit, a splatter of crimson hitting the filthy wooden floor before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Before he could recover, you lunged at him again, grabbing him around the middle and shoving him to the floor.

Graves let out a muffled yelp of surprise as you pinned him, the sharp point of your knee keeping him flat on his back. You unsheathed your knife and pressed the razor edge to his throat, savoring the way his pulse raced under his sweat-soaked skin.

"Give me a reason, Graves," you hissed through gritted teeth, "I'll tell him you started it. Make sure there's only one story."

"You gonna cut my throat? Do it then," he was still grinning and a small trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, "C'mon!"

He shouted the last word and you jumped, nearly granting his wish.

"Not worth the paperwork," you sheathed your knife, satisfied with the small cut you'd left in your wake. You made to rise from him, but he clapped a hand onto your thigh, holding you there.

A strange expression passed over his features for just a moment, then disappeared along with the pressure of his hand on your leg. You rose to your feet and offered him a hand, which he took before orienting himself.

"You gonna tell the general about this little spat?" Graves cocked an eyebrow and brought his hand to his throat, swiping the still trickling blood from the wound.

"Maybe."

The fight was absent from the next call with your father. It didn't seem worth the effort to explain that you'd briefly thought of killing the commander over a childlike argument.

There was good news to pass on anyway- Shadow Company had landed in Las Almas and the Mexican Special Forces seemed far more competent than the US Military back home.

Colonel Alejandro Vargas, in particular, was impressive among them. He and his second in command had already had a run-in with Hassan and the taskforce they were working alongside had been chasing down leads left and right before Shadow Company arrived.

The 141 and the Special Forces treated you with more respect than the Shadows had- they even seemed to seek your input, which was more than you could say for Graves and his men.

It was easier to spend time at the Las Almas base- it was warm, and for once, you weren't sleeping on a bare floor next to a dozen snoring soldiers.

Graves seemed annoyed with your enjoyment of their hospitality, but never mentioned it directly.

"It's good to have you around here, hermosa," Alejandro was bent low over a map of Las Almas, studying it with intensity, "Sometimes these men forget the little details."

You smiled and he returned it, a genuine grin that accented his handsome features.

From across the room, Graves glared at him, his lip curled in a barely-concealed snarl of disdain. Why it upset him so much, he had no idea- that alone frustrated him more than Alejandro's blatant flirting.

He wanted more than anything to wipe that smile off of the colonel's face, preferably with his knuckles.

"Graves?" you cocked your head and the sound of your voice cut through the swirling white noise in his head, snapping him out of his rage-fueled trance.

"What?"

You furrowed your brows and gestured to the map, "Alejandro's plan?"

Alejandro. So quick to call him by his first name.

"Small teams are probably better for this," the colonel repeated the plan slowly, as if Graves was a child who had been caught daydreaming, "Shepherd and I could-"

"No," Graves cut him off and you raised a brow, "She comes with me, she doesn't work for you, Vargas."

Alejandro seemed to have made a connection in that moment and a smirk ghosted over his lips at the realization, "Far as I know, she doesn't work for you either, sombra."

You glanced between them, sensing some unspoken tension that seemed to have formed behind your back.

"I should go with Shadow Company," you murmured quietly. For a moment, Graves looked triumphant, until you continued, "The general wants regular reports on their performance."

Alejandro chuckled and shot the commander a look of victory, "Wouldn't want to disappoint your bankroll."

You spent the next miserable night in a decrepit safe house, staring up at the ceiling as Graves breathed softly next to you. He hadn't said a word since the spat with Alejandro, and he'd tossed you your duffel with such force it had nearly knocked you off your feet.

Your back ached from the hard floor, and the early sounds of a thunderstorm were brewing outside the thin walls. You sat up in the darkness and rubbed your temples, contemplating the series of life fuckups you'd had to make to get to this point.

A loud crescendo of thunder shook the house and you jumped, barely stifling a yelp of fear at the sudden sound.

"Scared of storms, princess?" Graves mumbled from his position on the floor.

"Will you give it a rest, Graves?" you snapped and he chuckled.

There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again.

"How come you don't call me Phillip?" he pushed himself up to a seated position, his eyes barley visible shining in the dark.

"Because you're the commander," you said with a shrug.

"You call the Colonel by his name. Seems a little too familiar."

"Are you jealous?" you asked incredulously and he huffed out a noncommittal response you couldn't catch, "What is going on with you? Three weeks ago, you'd have been happy to have me out of your hair! Hell, before we landed in Las Almas, we nearly killed one another-"

"Yeah? Maybe I just don't want you shacking up with a foreign military leader when we're supposed to be focused!"

You sputtered indignantly, feeling your face grow warm at the accusation, "Shacking up? Really?"

"Yeah, really."

You took a blind swat at his face in the dark and he grabbed your wrist yanking you toward him until your chest was flush with his. In the pitch blackness, his eyes shone like a predator as he stared down at you.

His face was so close to yours now that you could feel his breath as it fanned over you; he was nearly panting, and you could feel the thrum of his heart under his fatigues.

You tried to pull away, but Graves tightened his grip with a growl, "I sat back while you spied on my men, slowed us down, and reported back to your piece of shit father. Then we land in Las Almas and you may as well have sat on that fucking prick's lap while he planned-"

Your free hand connected with his face with a crisp -SMACK- that rang out in the silent room. If it had hurt him, he didn't show it. Instead, he grinned and took hold of your free hand with his own before moving, swiftly, and knocking you onto your back with your arms pinned above your head.

You tried to wriggle free, but he shoved a knee between your legs for leverage and you felt a sudden pang of heat at the contact.

"Didn't your daddy ever teach you any manners?" He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Fuck you, Phillip," you spat his name and he laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound that fell flat in the darkness.

"Ask me nicely."

"Get the fuck off of me!"

"Wrong answer, princess," he thrust his knee up into you and you let out a strained gasp that made him laugh again, "See, you're givin' me mixed signals here." He brought his mouth down to your ear and you felt a jolt of electricity run down your spine.

"You want me to stop? I'll stop, but I don't think that's what you really want."

You didn't answer, your attention now too focused on his mouth as it neared your neck, hot breath sending your hair on end. When his tongue finally hit your skin, you had to stifle the sound that threatened to tumble past your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you bucked your hips, desperate for friction against his knee.

"That's more like it," he purred; his teeth came down, suddenly, on your pulse point and you gasped, back arching off the cold floor and sending your chest against his. Tomorrow, there'd be a mark there, glaring and obvious for everyone to see.

"Can I let your hands go?" Graves panted, his mouth still close to your ear, "you gonna go smackin' me again?"

"No," you tried to focus through the haze of lust that had taken root in your mind.

"Promise?" He asked, his voice smug.

Before you could answer, he released your wrists and one of his hands snaked under the hem of your shirt, rough fingertips gliding across your sensitive skin. His hand found your bra, deftly moving it up to expose your breasts to his fingers. He wasted no time taking one of your nipples between them, rolling gently until you let out a pathetic whimper.

"Wondered how good you'd sound," Graves' mouth found yours and he nearly crashed into you, kissing you like the desperate man he'd been since landing in Las Almas, "He's never gonna fuckin' hear this."

Alejandro. He had been jealous.

"C'mon, let me hear that pretty sound again, baby," he murmured; his knee ground into you once more and you moaned his name, his first name, and it sent his head into a daze.

You heard him fumble with his belt for a moment, then he tapped your buckle expectantly, prompting you to wriggle your way out of your pants. You tossed them aside in the darkness and shivered against the cold night air as it hit your bare skin.

"This ain't the way I wanted it to happen," Graves whispered as he ran a gentle hand up your inner thigh.

How long had he been thinking about it?

Swiftly, he grabbed your thighs and pulled your legs around his waist, lining himself up with you. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself inside you, hands grasping desperately at your hips to pull you flush with him.

Graves dropped his forehead to yours, panting quietly as he let you adjust to him. His first thrust was gentle, slow and easy, as if he was testing the water.

"You gonna tell your daddy about this?" Graves set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with less restraint than before.

You didn't answer, unable to speak as his cock hit every sensitive spot deep inside you over and over again. You wanted to hate him, wanted to tell him what an absolute bastard he was-

But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, you clutched at his shoulders, moaning and whining like an animal in heat as he fucked you on the filthy floor of the safehouse.

This was a bad idea, surely. Sleeping with the commander could only come back to haunt you.

Graves thrust, hard, and the thought was pushed from your mind entirely as he edged you closer to release. It was clear he wasn't far behind as he panted and let his movement grow sloppy and erratic.

"Gonna cum inside you, baby, that okay?" Graves' voice shook as he spoke.

"Yes-" you gasped out the words as he gave you one final push that had the tension inside you snapping like a taut cord.

He was close behind you, thrusting sloppily until he was spilling inside you with a weak grunt. He stayed like that for a moment, panting, as sweat dripped from his face and pattered down onto you.

Already, you could feel the gentle throb of the bruise that was forming on your neck where he had bitten you earlier.

To your left, a radio crackled to life and Graves scrambled to grab it, listening intently to the chatter from the Shadows on the other end.

"Shit-" he tossed the radio to the floor and searched for his pants.

"What is it?" You asked weakly, still lying on the floor where he'd left you.

"141 has movement, pretty sure it's Hassan," Graves threw your pants to you and you wiggled your way into them. It had to be at least 3am and you were exhausted.

You searched blindly for something to cover your neck, but to no avail. You weren't thrilled at the thought of Alejandro seeing it, but decided you didn't care.

Graves led the way and you followed him out the front door, rifles drawn.

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 20

Did you know? Hero and villain prompts were some of the first whump content I intentionally consumed! I will forever be salty that mainstream superhero content could never live up to those prompts.

Content warnings for: Gun violence, threats of death, and mildly suggestive comments

Giving Permission to Die

“So? What’s the plan today?” The villain shouted across the room at the hero whose captivity he’d been in for… a week, now. Maybe more.

“Finally giving you what you want,” he responded with a shrug, playing with the knife in his hands. Flip it over, switch hands. Flip it over, switch hands.

“You don’t look prepared to present me with your corpse.”

“Oh, my death wouldn’t end your sentence, my love.” The flipping game was getting boring, and he picked at dirt under his nails using the blade instead. “You’d be chained up here with the rotting thing until you passed away yourself. Not punishment enough for your crimes, but it’s better than letting you roam the streets.”

“Sounds like you’re not giving me what I want then.”

“Be glad my greatest sin is telling lies.” A pointed glare accused him of crimes he’d plead innocent to, yet again. The knife moved to scratch an itch with the flat of it. 

“You sure that torturing a man isn’t higher on that list?”

“The pen is mightier than the sword, love.” A gesture with the damned thing now. He pushed down the urge to point out the obvious differences between that little thing and a sword. But the dick joke was funny in his head and didn’t involve initiation of a measuring contest.

“And your forked tongue doesn’t salivate ink. Swords can make quick work of those.” 

“Oh, shall I try it out on yours?” The hero stuck out his tongue at him.

“Put me out of my misery first.”

The knife plunged into the floor and he stood, never taking his eyes off of the villain.

“That. That’s what I’m talking about. Always egging me on. Trying to make me go too far.” He stalked forward and pulled a pistol from the inside pocket of his jacket. Entirely concealed from the outside. “I’ll go too far today. Just for you.” 

“Cute prop.” He hid the way his body shivered at the sight, praying the hero wouldn’t call his bluff. He was chained to this wall by his ankles, wrists, and neck. It wouldn’t be useful to put himself in a more vulnerable position.

“Here, let me fire. Maybe you’ll believe it then.” The gun aimed at the concrete beside his head but he paused. “Oh, who am I kidding. I should save your hearing for the last few minutes of your life.”

Foam earplugs were thrust into his ears and held still while they extended to block the canal, and the other did the same for himself. 

“Now, where was I?” Of course, shouting loud enough to bypass the earplugs. He aimed only a foot to the left of the villain’s head, pulling away as far as he possibly could, and fired. 

The sound ricocheted around the room, admittedly too small to facilitate gunfire, and he grinned at the way his victim flinched, eyes going wide. He walked forward and plucked the bullet out from its newfound pocket in the concrete, scattering dust and chunks that had stood solid just moments before. 

It was still warm from being shot and he dropped his knees, pressing it into the villain’s hand and folding up fingers to protect it. It trembled in his grip. 

“Do you believe me now, dear?” he spoke low into their ear, making sure he could still hear the threatening tone.

“Leave. Put that damn thing away and leave. You won’t shoot me and I know it.”

He cradled his cheek with the gun. And slid it up to sit against his temple. 

“How confident are you?” 

“Deadly so.”

BANG.

The world was fuzzy from the shot. The noise too close to his head, bleeding into his vision despite the protection. He looked down at his hands to see the blood dripping down them, spraying from his forehead. But only the bullet rolling in his palm greeted him. 

“Oops, guess the magazine was out.” 

Comprehension was a struggle. His forehead burned, but without blood… the hero’s thumb reached up and he flinched back uselessly as it rubbed over the not-hole. It came back covered in soot, wiped against his jaw like it was nothing. 

“What…?”

He released the magazine from the gun and presented it. Empty. 

“You were right. I didn’t shoot you.”

“You…”

“Pulled the trigger? Absolutely. Let’s rectify that little mistake, love.” Another magazine from his pocket, showing the bullets loaded inside, and shoving it into place. 

Then the front sight pressed against the villain’s lips, wiggling between them and scratching his teeth. He shook his head, turning it to the side. 

“No, no. You asked me for this, baby. I’ll follow through for you.” His hand steadied his chin, squeezing his jaw, and the muzzle jammed into the teeth with the threat to break. He had no choice but to let it in.

Gunpowder was a repulsive taste. Ash and acid. Then metal, still warm from recent discharge, but cooling rapidly. He guided it in, not stopping when teeth clamped down in an attempt to ward it off. The muzzle pressed toward his gag reflex when the trigger guard finally brushed his lips and he sighed, a whiny pathetic thing. 

“C’mon. Nod, babe, and I’ll pull the trigger. Hero’s honor. To save those in need.”

Nothing. He held him by the back of the head, devious smile aware of each action’s connotation, and twisted the pistol to force it further, making him gag on it. 

“Tell me to do it. I’ll let you die. I’ll blow your fucking brains out, sweetheart.”

The hammer clicked back. His finger inched toward the trigger. The villain held his breath, unmoving.

And then the gun ripped out of his mouth, sight tearing across his cheek and lip, splattering his blood across the floor where it flew and spun to a stop at the other end of the room.

“Right. Don’t ask me again.”

[huntingingoodwill]

dancing with a ghost (j.m.)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

desc: "you told me once that people do stupid things for love. you were right." you pull down joel's walls, and he lets himself dream of another life with you, one of boring bliss. it makes it so much more painful when you betray him. still, he's tethered to you. endlessly.

In another life, Joel would have wanted to meet you in a way that was mundane. He dreamt of it. You were the girl in the aisles of a supermarket, under fluorescent light. You were sipping coffee in a cafe, hands leaching warmth from your mug. You breezed past him on a walk in the park, and you would have compelled him, in all your magic, to talk to you. 

Instead, he first laid eyes on you past the barrel of his gun.  

Why the fuck did he agree to go on patrol on his own? 

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, setting a tremor in his fingers that he urged to keep still. 

“I’m alone,” the words cracked in your throat as you noted the sheen of primal fear that fell across his eyes. He was an animal with its ears pricked, detecting if there was another stranger lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. You pressed your back into the splintered corner of the cabin, breaking through cobwebs. 

“Why are you here?” he rasped.

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open as you searched frantically for the words. 

“My boyfriend, I was with his camp…” you swallowed thickly, the pinch of heartbreak and shame blooming behind your eyes. “...they packed up and left me when I was asleep. Took my jacket.” 

His eyes roved your body, taking in the threadbare clothes you were left with, anxiety and cold pricking your skin with goosebumps. He felt a twinge in his heart he fought to stave off. 

“I’m sorry I came here. I was walking for so long, and when I saw the cabin…” 

He swallowed thickly, resolve faltering as he looked at you, eyes dark as he stared at you through thick lashes. You wouldn’t last much longer out there, with no weapons, no supplies, not even a jacket. 

“Stand,” his gruff voice commanded. “Don’t make me say it twice.” 

You scrambled to your feet, scuffed boots clattering against the rotting floor. His calloused palm shot out towards you, travelling quickly up your sides. No hidden weapons. 

He begged himself to stay strong. To cast concrete over his heart, stifle the pang in his heart. Pull the trigger. 

He huffed out a sigh, dropping the rifle to his side. The tension in the air seemed to disintegrate as his fingers lifted to meet the bridge of his nose, a headache blossoming in the back of his skull. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” he held out his canteen toward you. “Drink.” 

The slosh of the water made you salivate, and you gulped it down, barely registering as Joel slipped his jacket off, wrapping it around your frame, the fabric still warm with his body heat. 

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as he led you outside, hoisting you up onto his horse. His hands lingered for a moment on your waist before he mounted the saddle, gripping the reins.

“Hold on,” he muttered. He sought out your arm, directing it to his waist. Your arms snaked around his side, loosely finding their place over his stomach. He tried to ignore the kick of his heartbeat as he felt the weight of your hand against the pack of muscle at his core.

The steady click of the horse’s hooves against the trail soothed you as the two of you headed toward Jackson. A heavy calm settled over you, and you felt yourself slump forward with fatigue, cheek pressed against Joel’s hard shoulder. You nuzzled into the warmth that radiated off him, the steady thrum of Joel’s heartbeat in your ear. 

“Water-” 

“Whiskey.” you interrupted Joel. Afternoon sun still streaming golden through the windows, it was quiet in the Tipsy Bison, save the noise of your fingers tapping against the bar. 

“You just got here and you’re already tryin’ to drink up all our booze?” Joel’s words dripped with derision. 

“I thought it’d warm me up.” you shrugged, a soft smile playing on your lips. It almost won him over. Almost. 

“Water,” he repeated to the bartender. “Keep an eye on her.” 

He pulled his jacket tighter over your frame, pulling the zipper up, knuckles brushing against you. 

“This’ll keep you warm. Don’t move. Be good, now.” 

“I’ll be the best.” you replied. In spite of himself, the corners of his lips threatened to turn up in an incredulous smile. 

He stalked away toward the corner booth where Tommy sat, his brother’s eyes examining you. 

“Looks harmless enough.” Tommy conceded, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “But we can never be too careful.” 

“You saying she’s a raider?” Joel questioned, turning to cast a look in your direction.

Your eyes met his, a crackle of electricity seeming to fly through the air. He turned back around, clearing his throat in an attempt to disguise the heat spreading across his face. 

“Maybe. You said her boyfriend’s camp just ditched her in the middle of nowhere? Assholes like that would do anything to survive. Birds of a feather…” he trailed off. 

A silence fell between the siblings as Joel processed his words. 

“I couldn’t just leave her out there, Tommy. I couldn’t.” he muttered. He had already felt tethered to you out there, knowing he wouldn’t let himself abandon you. He had to protect you. 

“I want to trust you, Joel.” Tommy said.

Joel’s eyes peered at him, a flicker of determination glimmering in the pits of his dark eyes. 

“Then trust me.” 

Tommy sighed solemnly, nodding in concession. 

“Okay. Just… be careful.” 

Joel nodded gravely. 

“She can stay with me. I’ll keep an eye on her.” 

With a final grave glance in your direction from Tommy, Joel rose to his feet. You listened to his heavy footsteps as you eyed the thin film of water left at the bottom of your glass. 

“I’m taking you home.” 

Laughter bubbled in your throat. 

“You’re direct, aren’t you? At least be a gentleman and buy me a drink first.” 

He blinked at you, hiding his surprise behind a cough as he attempted to regain his composure.

“Funny.” he said, sardonic.  

“I wasn’t entirely joking.” you hummed. 

He slid onto the stool beside you, eyes roving across your profile. The sunlight glinted off your eyes.

“Two whiskeys.” he said. 

Your finger traced the rim of your glass as the bartender set it down before you, eyes trained on the dark amber liquid that pooled in your cup. 

His eyes travelled across the curve of your nose, your lips. Your hair fell into your face, grazing your cheek. His fingers flexed at his side, longing to reach out and push it away. He gripped his glass tighter in his hand. 

“What happened out there?” the words seemed to leave his lips before he could stop himself, his gruff voice stilted as it cut through the quiet. “You… said you were with your boyfriend’s group.” 

He immediately regretted asking, worried he was pushing too far, pushing you further back into yourself. 

“Yeah.” you breathed out a shallow sigh. “Brought me out to a neck of the woods I wasn’t familiar with. Said it was getting dark, that we had to stay the night.” 

Your eyes glazed over, and Joel could almost see the memories flashing through your mind. 

“I woke up and they were gone.” you continued. A pit of sorrow nestled into his stomach as he imagined you, eyes fluttering open to greet the morning light. Alone. 

“I should have known. They were…” the words seemed to stick in your throat. “They had been calling me dead weight for months, because I refused to help them.  The things they did to innocent people in the name of survival. I couldn’t.”

Raiders. Tommy’s words flashed through Joel’s mind, but his heart softened at the determined, faraway gaze you had, looking out at nowhere in particular. 

“Still,” you let out a laugh, the noise tinged with bitterness. “I trusted him. I even believed, for a while after, that he’d come back for me.” you mumbled, taking a swig of your drink. 

He looked at you as you winced at the bite of the alcohol, and he could clock the almost imperceptible glassy shine of your eyes, of tears you were too determined not to spill. 

“Why?” he asked, voice barely audible over the slosh of the liquor, the words rumbling deep in his chest. “Why’d you believe him?” 

He wished he could take the words back. He felt tortured in the ensuing silence. 

“Love.” you said, the word slicing through silence. Joel’s dark eyes held your gaze. “People do stupid things for love.” 

The light from Joel’s lamp cast a warm glow across the peeling wallpaper, the lightbulb emitting a quiet buzz that rang out through the silence. 

You shot up, the springs of Joel’s old mattress groaning. 

“I can’t sleep.” you announced into the quiet. 

Joel started from the sudden noise before he relaxed, heartbeat slowing after the sudden rush of adrenaline. He shifted in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. 

“Try.” he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“I have been trying. But it’s a little hard to sleep when you’re sitting in the corner watching me.” 

“Performance anxiety?” he raised a thick brow, the lines in his forehead deepening. A quiet laugh left your lips, and his lips tugged upward. “I promised Tommy I’d keep an eye on you.” 

Four long nights. Joel could already feel the weight of sleep tugging at his eyelids, the air he breathed thick with fatigue. Tommy had been coming in the early hours to take over, just enough for Joel to achieve a short, fitful sleep on the couch.

So far, he’d been watching a lot of nothing. You hadn’t done anything to indicate you were up to no good. He had felt comfortable around you, a strange calm settling over him whenever he allowed himself to forget your associations with the raider group. Still, the tendrils of caution always seemed to itch at the back of his mind. You were disarming. He almost trusted you. Some part of him was scared of that, how easily you threatened to knock down his walls.

Maybe he was just tired. 

“You need sleep.” you stated, drawing your knees up to your chest, Joel’s sheets pooling around you. 

“Didn’t sleep much before you got here.” he responded, palm attempting to soothe the bundle of knots forming at the base of his neck. 

“Try.” you echoed his words. “I can sleep on the couch.“ 

“No.” Joel said. God knows how long you were wandering out in the woods without a proper place to lay your head.

“Then come over here. It’s big enough for the both of us.” you said.

It wasn’t the possibility of you robbing him blind that gave him pause, though it should have been. Besides, you had been on your best behaviour so far.

What had caused his heart to quicken its pace was the idea of being in the same bed with you. Embarrassed, he tried to tamp down those emotions, heat pooling under his skin. He shot a look at the bed, the sheets looking so soft, drawing his tired frame towards them. Being able to lie down in his own bed would feel like heaven. 

Still, he stared at you, unsure. 

 “I’ll just lie down, close my eyes, and if you wanna lie down, you can come over here. I won’t be any the wiser.” 

Closing your eyes, you relaxed back into the mattress, snuggling into the duvet. 

He stared at the outline of your shape beneath the duvet. He felt a yearning for sleep, a magnetism between him and his bed.

The floorboards creaked as he stood hesitantly, making his way across the room. He moved onto the bed, the mattress dipping comfortably beneath his weight as he allowed his tense body to be enveloped by the comfort of his bed. 

“That wasn’t so scary, wasn’t it?” you teased, eyes still closed, feigning sleep. 

He couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and you let out a laugh. 

“He laughs! I didn’t know you knew how.” you teased. 

“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it.” he joked, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“You should do it more often. I like your laugh.” you mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. 

He looked back at you, the words hanging heavy in the air. 

“I like yours.” he mumbled, warmth spreading throughout his body. 

You felt the tension that he held begin to dissipate, muscles relaxing as he settled into the bed. His breath was steady, the heave of his chest comforting. You seemed to be drawn toward each other, the warmth of each other’s bodies a comfort that pulled you closer. 

“Thank you.” your quiet voice interrupted the comfortable silence that fell between you two. 

“For what?” he muttered. 

“For everything. For taking me in. I’m happy I met you.” 

“I…” Joel began, hanging on the precipice of something. “I’m happy I met you too.” 

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances.” you hummed. “Normal circumstances.”

“Life’s a lot different than it was before.” he muttered. 

“Astute observation.” you joked. He reached for a pillow, whacking you softly in the side as you shook with laughter. “Sorry, sorry! Life before…” you sighed, considering the idea. “When I had dreams. Grand aspirations.” you chuckled, reminiscing. 

“What sorta dreams?” 

“I wanted to be an actress.” you laughed, a little embarrassed, pressing your blushing face into the sheets. “I was gonna be a fuckin’ star.” 

“Yeah?” he smiled, turning to look at you. 

“Oscar-worthy.” you replied. 

The room dissolved into laughter, quiet chuckles echoing through the air. 

“What did you want to be? What was your dream?” you whispered. 

He exhaled, a distant look in his eyes.  

“I guess… I wanted to be a good dad. A good husband.” 

You were quiet for a moment, before you reached for him, searching for his hand in a sea of sheets. You slipped your hand over his. 

“You were the best.” you whispered.

“How would you know?” he scoffed. 

“I do. I just do.” 

He looked at you in earnest, softened by fatigue and the secret vulnerabilities people are only brave enough to show in the quiet hours of the night. He turned his hand, folding it into yours. He squeezed it, thumb running across the ridges of your knuckles. It was his way of thanking you. 

In the early hours of the morning, when Tommy arrived to help Joel keep watch, he found the two of you, entwined. 

It was the best sleep Joel had gotten in a long, long time.

The Tipsy Bison hummed with the laughter of its patrons, drink tinging their voices with a warmth. Joel pushed past a crush of tipsy bodies, eyes scanning the room. 

His gaze landed on you, an uncontrollable smile greeting his lips. A solitary figure on the corner stool, your head tilted toward the bar in concentration as you scribbled on a scrap of paper. 

“What’ve you got there?” his gravelly voice, barely audible over the buzz of the crowd, rang in your ears. You slid the paper off the surface, tucking it into your pocket before he could take a good look. 

“Nothing.” you murmured. You ignored the questioning look he gave you, and the guilt that bubbled up in your stomach because of it. You pushed yourself off the stool, walking toward the jukebox. 

He felt the gnaw of doubt more and more around you. It was ridiculous, considering you spent your nights drawn close to each other in sleep, his sheets now perfumed with your scent. He felt that urge in the pit of his stomach, the need for everything between you to be alright. He wanted you to like him. It made heat bloom in his collar. 

You turned your head, and gave him a smile, and suddenly everything was okay. He was drawn back in, moving to stand beside you. 

“How was your day?” he asked. 

You held out your hand, the edges of your fingernails dark with dirt. He chuckled, taking your hand as he examined it, thumb skimming the skin of your knuckles for a second too long before he remembered himself. 

“Poor thing.” he muttered, missing the warmth of your hand as you slipped it from his. 

“I like the greenhouse. Feels good to contribute.” you smiled.

He reached out, ruffling your hair. He had asked Tommy to let you help out around Jackson, and you took to what little duties you were given like a duck to water. 

“How was patrol?” you asked. 

“Tommy talked my ear off again.” he rolled his eyes, earning a snort from you as you drummed your fingers against the peeling veneer of the jukebox. “I wish I was patrolling with you, instead.” 

Regret pooled in the pit of his stomach as you didn’t respond. He had revealed too much. He watched you, the jukebox’s blinking lights setting your eyes alight, neon reflecting off your gaze. 

“Penny for your thoughts.” he muttered.

You raised your eyebrows. 

“I was just thinking about how we’d work together on patrol.” 

“What’s the verdict?” 

“I think we’d make a good team.” you smiled, and he felt the weight of anxiety lift itself off his shoulders. 

“Good.” he said, trying to hide how happy it made him. “I’ll talk to Tommy about it. If I can get a word in.” 

Laughter spilled from your lips as you held out your hand toward him. His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I want my penny.” 

“I… don’t have any on me right now.” 

“I loathe liars.” you snarled in mock disdain as you landed a smack against his bicep, unable to keep up your grumpy countenance for more than a second before it dissolved into a grin. “Then, how about… a dance?” 

His eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. You loved that you could surprise the unshakeable Joel Miller. 

“No way.” he shook his head determinedly, even as you began pulling on his hand. 

“Performance anxiety?” you questioned. “Then we’ll go outside.” 

You tugged on his arm, hauling him toward the door. He let himself be led by you, an incredulous smile on his face. 

It was beginning to grow warmer, but the bite of the cold outside still refreshed you as you took a breath of the clean, thin air. The door swung close, and the music and noise of the crowd muffled, seeming to recede in the distance. 

The light from the bar cast a strip of gold across the side of his face, illuminating the salt and pepper scruff on his jaw. You reached out to lace your fingers behind his neck, his shoulders stiffening at the brush of your hands against his hair. You took your hand away, leading his hands to your waist. His broad palms splayed out against your waist as you began to sway. 

He began to relax into your touch, dancing in time to the cry of the crickets and the muffled song that played from within the Tipsy Bison. He couldn’t focus on the noise, on the upkick of dust on the dirt road, on the grass that swayed along with you, on the quiet bleat of the sheep in their pens. He looked into your eyes, a shimmer of warmth spreading through his chest. 

“What do you do all day, when I’m out on patrol? Besides working at the greenhouse.” he muttered, hands warm against your waist. 

“I think of you.” you smiled, and he hated the way the words made his heart stutter. “And I go on walks. Long walks.” 

He frowned, eyes hardening.

“You shouldn’t be wandering out there alone. We got the wall, but pockets of raiding parties can get in through the weak spots.” 

“I know.” you muttered, resting your temple on his shoulder. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt your warm breath fan across his neck. 

You pulled away from him, and he ached for the feeling of your closeness as you did. 

“You’re gonna have to teach me to shoot if you want me on patrol with you.” you said. 

“You don’t know how?” 

“I have an idea.” you said, springing into action as you mimed holding a rifle at him, shoulders shuddering with laughter as you pretended to pull the trigger, the noise of mimicked gunshots spilling from your lips. 

“You really are an actress, aren’t you?” he laughed. “It’s more like…” he planted his hands on your shoulders, twirling you around to face out into the dark silhouettes of Jackson’s buildings. He adjusted your hands, pulling your back flush against his chest as he readjusted your posture. He sweared you could feel his heartbeat against your back. “This.” 

Your arms fell to your sides. You swivelled around, chest pressed against his, before your hands found the nape of his neck, his soft, dark hair grazing your hand. You pulled him close. 

He kissed you, under the ink black night, his lips grazing yours as you felt the scratch of his beard against your cheek, his rough hands roving your sides. His lips were soft, his hands warm against your skin. You leaned in closer, that warm sensation he felt whenever you were near seeming to shoot out from his fingertips, coursing through his veins. He wanted to stay that way, forever. 

That night, the two of you fell asleep once more in each other’s arms, his arms enveloping your frame, breath shallow against your neck. 

After he left for patrol the next day, he was all that was on your mind, haunting you with every step on your long, long walks around Jackson, your feet leading you to those weak spots he warned you about, where pockets of raider parties lurked, the scrap of paper clutched tightly in your hand. 

Days off-patrol were spent in sleep. It was as if that was how you bonded, the trust you showed each other when you allowed yourselves to doze off in front of the other, to hold each other. If not, you were talking, coaxing words from Joel, memories about life before, information about Jackson’s operations. There was kissing, too. Stolen moments in the kitchen, underneath awnings, away from prying eyes. 

Days like these, when you were on patrol with him, you would watch the trees blur as you travelled past, eyeing the broad expanse of Joel’s back as he swayed on his horse.

He drew to a stop before a creek, dismounting. You had often stopped here for breaks on your route, and you had grown familiar with its waters.  

“I need a break.” he grumbled, searching his bag for his canteen. 

You followed suit, feet hitting the grass as you lifted your chin toward the sky. The sunlight flashed behind your eyelids, its warmth kissing your face. 

“Let’s swim.” you hummed. 

You slipped off your shirt, Joel averting his eyes as his cheeks tinged with red. The warm air hit your skin as you took the opportunity to slip your newest note from your back pocket, tucking it under a rock near where your clothes pooled atop the grass.

Joel watched your back disappear beneath the water’s glassy surface. 

The itch of unease returned to him. He felt watched, like someone’s eyes were boring into the back of his skull. He looked around. Nothing. 

“C’mon!” you called out over the splash of water.

Nudging the paranoia aside, Joel pulled his shirt over his head. 

You swam up to him as he slipped into the creek, his body cutting through the water. Water beaded on his bare chest, pooling in the hollow of his neck. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss the base of his throat, droplets hanging off the scruff of his beard. 

Your hands ran over his shoulders, wicking water off the surface of his tanned skin. Your fingers found his hair, entangling themselves in the silver-dark locks. His arms searched for you underwater, wrapping themselves around your waist. 

An unsettling silence seemed to ring in his ears. Something was wrong. He still felt watched. He searched your gaze. The light reflecting off the water shone into your eyes, obscuring them for a moment. Perhaps he was imagining it, but as the light flickered through your gaze, it seemed to be empty. Like you weren’t quite there. 

A snap of a twig cut through the air, and Joel jumped, his neck craning as he began to swivel around before you pulled him close, lips crashing against his. Your hand cupped the nape of his neck, pulling him toward you as his hand sailed up your back. He kissed you, his lips slick with water, gentle as he held you close. 

“We should go.” he muttered, pressing you to his chest. Your cheek fell against his bare shoulder, his voice rumbling in your ear. The calming weight of your head, the glint of the afternoon sun, and the quiet flow of the water doing nothing to calm him as he looked around, still wary. 

You waded out of the water, his hand in yours. As you pulled your clothes back on, you took note of the now overturned rock, the grass bare where your note once was.

“Stay here. I’ll check the next room to see if it’s clear.” Joel grabbed hold of his rifle.

Patrols had led you back to where you first met. The air in the cabin was thick with dust, but it was much-needed shelter for the night. You nodded, tugging his hand to pull him toward you. 

“Be careful.” you reached up to plant a kiss on his temple. 

He nodded, giving your hand a squeeze.

He scanned each room, senses on high alert as he stalked through the cabin. 

A creak of the floorboards rang through the air. He swivelled around, hurrying into the cabin’s study in the direction of the noise. His feet slammed against the floor as he entered the room, gun aimed and ready. 

The silhouette of a man made a run for the woods, ducking out of the backdoor before Joel was able to get a good shot. Joel’s chest heaved as he raced after him, firing a couple shots in the man’s direction, missing as the stranger ducked in between the trees, receding into the forest. 

Fear coursed through his veins, heart slamming against his chest as he ran back inside. 

“We gotta go!” he called out to you, before he paused, eyes catching on the desk, the termite-infested hunk of wood and dust that sat in the corner of the room. 

The intruder had left the drawer open. 

He approached with caution, hand reaching to brush across the open compartment. A letter, hastily folded, had been thrown inside.

He unfolded it with shaking hands. 

This is the last thing I’ll send. Take what you need, don’t hurt anyone, leave. It ends here. I don’t want to hurt him.

Joel ran his fingers across the groove of your handwriting, eyes travelling to where you had drawn a crude map of Jackson, circling the weak spots in the wall, easy targets for raiders. 

Joel blinked hard, his heart leaping into his throat. No. His eyes had to be deceiving him. His hands quaked as he read the next line, another set of handwriting scrawled as a reply beneath your message. 

Tomorrow, 2 a.m. We’ll attack when they sleep. Keep sending info, or he gets it.

Joel’s eyes travelled toward the desk drawer, another scrap of paper resting at the bottom of it. He lifted it toward him. You had copied the patrol roster in your careful handwriting, the information of every Jackson resident on patrol, their route and schedule. The intruder had circled Joel’s name. A threat.

His gaze burned, the heat of betrayal and sorrow blooming behind his eyes. He felt everything he thought he knew crumble around him, tearing his heart down with it. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, as if you were right there, plunging in a knife. It was all a lie. He had trusted you. You were in contact with the raiders this whole time. You had been feeding them information, risking the safety of everyone he cared about. You lied to him.

“Joel? What’s wrong?” you called out, the noise of your footsteps snapping him out of his daze. 

You appeared in the doorway, his heart flooding with a mix of unspeakable emotion. He wished he could take back what he knew, to pretend it was all okay. To go back to holding you. 

“You’re breaking my heart, baby.” he muttered. 

Your eyes widened as your gaze locked in on his hand, the notes hanging dejectedly from his fingers.

You grappled for your rifle, aiming it at him with more poise than you had let him know you had. 

You knew how to shoot, he realised. Another lie. He watched your posture. Perfect, if not a little shaky. You were nervous, shaken in your regret. You didn’t know if the person at the end of your gun was the enemy. You didn’t want him to be at the enemy. 

“Stay away.” your voice wavered, your unease bobbing to the surface of your voice.

Joel’s fingers twitched at his side, reaching for his knife. 

“Don’t move. I’ll blow your fucking hand off.” you warned. It sounded unsure. 

He watched you. You were beautiful. In every other life he’d still believe in your beauty. He’d take hold of those hands you were using to aim a weapon, and lace his fingers through yours. 

He thought, then, about how nice it would be, to live those other lives with you. Making coffee for you in the mornings, washing the dishes together. He wished he had the opportunity to be boring with you. Instead, you were holding a gun at him, fighting to survive. In another life, the two of you would never fight.

He caught you off guard. 

Rushing forward, he pushed you onto the floor, ripping the gun from your grasp, the rifle sent skidding into the far corner of the room. The air was knocked out of you, and your breath stuttered as you struggled beneath him, his weight pressing into you as he grabbed onto your wrists. 

“Who are you?” he implored, heartbreak tainting his words, voice cracking as they left his lips. He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He stared into your eyes, his big brown eyes, broken with despair, searching and finding nothing. “There’s nothing there.” He muttered, defeated. “There was never anything there. It was all a lie. You weren’t there.” 

You wanted so desperately to protest, to beg for his forgiveness. You kept quiet. You had pushed him too far. He wouldn’t believe you. 

“You got what you wanted. You were a clever little actress, weren’t you?” The venom in his words disguised the pain that caused his voice to shudder. 

He lifted himself off of you, hands reaching for his rifle. 

“Stand. Don’t make me say it twice.” 

You listened, rising to your feet before him. 

His rationality screamed at him, urging every cell in his body to shoot. To eliminate the threat to the life he had built in Jackson, to protect the people he cared about. 

They all seemed to fall away when he thought about you. He cared about you. He loved you. 

He put his finger on the trigger. 

“You told me once that people do stupid things for love.” he paused, his words weighing heavy in the air. “You were right. And…this might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Take the food and water from my pack and run. Don’t come back.” 

It was his last gift to you. The tether between the two of you held strong. He’d always protect you, even when he shouldn’t. 

He watched you disappear into the woods, and thought of another life.

[sallage]

Your Turn, Blasty

Alright, this fic is a self indulgent spin off based off of @wreckingtickles’s Auction series! This fic is taking place in Bundle 2 immediately after Shindo says,

“Too bad. I would have loved to show Blasty here a good time.”

Enjoy!

Words: 2,797

Reading Time: 11 Minutes

“Too bad. I would have loved to show Blasty here a good time.”

Bakugo snarled and cussed while Shindo only went on smiling

Suddenly, the cuffs covering Shindo’s wrists opened and his arms flew down, unprepared for them to actually grant his request, he banged his elbows against the metal arm wrests. The bonds around his legs opened as well and after a moment of shocked realization, he shot Bakugo an evil, shit eating grin.

Bakugo blanched. “What? What the hell?” He yelled, watching as Shindo stood slowly from his chair, stretching his arms over his chest and dusting himself off theatrically.

Non-Ladies and Non-gents, It would take less than a second to put Black back into his chair, so I personally would love to see if he could get Orange to squirm! What do you all think?

The unseen crowd erupted in excited applause. Bakugo tugged uselessly at his arms once before throwing Shindo a dangerous glare. Shindo sauntered casually over to Bakugo, making the blonde’s heart race, which pissed him off even more.

“You bastard!” Bakugo growled. “Don’t you fucking-“

“You think cursing at me is gonna make me go easier on you?” Shindo happily interrupted, stopping in front of Bakugo’s chair. He lifted his hands out and sent vibrations through them. The vibrations shook his hands like a massager gun, making the blonde’s heart leap frustratingly hard into his throat.

“You motherfu-“

“You have no idea how much fun this is gunna be for me.” Shindo smiled sharply.

“Shindo, STAahahahHAP! Leheheheave him alone!” Kirishima giggled out before the mechanical hands dug in harder sending him back into laughter.

“Yohohou can- ahahahahha get- ahahahas ouhuhuhut!” Midoriya managed through his tired giggles.

“That would be true if this was real,” Shindo made a show of rolling up sleeves he didn’t have, refusing to take his eyes off of his deliciously helpless target. “But in this dream or whatever this is, hands materialize out of nowhere and float. In a world where we are trapped by a…?”

Interdimensional announcer!

“Yes, an interdimentional announcer that could make that happen, I could get snatched up in a second if I tried anything. Less than a second if anyone was paying attention.”

Right again! That’s two for two!

His condescending eyes rested on Bakugo’s. “I might as well get some fun while they’re letting me.” He looked up into the darkness. “You wouldn’t wanna share that chart you have on em’, would ya?” 

Right again! Isn’t he bright, folks?

Shindo shrugged and placed his hands on the angry blonde’s sides. “Guess I’ll have to figure it out myself.” Bakugo bared his teeth at him like a wild animal, an irritated vein visibly pulsing in his temple. Shindo sighed dramatically and spoke again. 

“It sucks that not everyone here can focus enough to witness you break, I’m sure they would get a kick out of it.”

What do you say everyone? Shall we turn down the noise so we can enjoy the Grinch’s struggle? I personally would love to hear every little sound he makes.

The unseen crowed cheered again and the hysterical laughter of his classmates died down. Soon, all that could be heard was heavy breathing and chair creaking. 

Shindo’s smile widened. “Your turn, Blasty.” 

Before Bakugo could react, he dug in. 

Shindo didn’t use his quirk right away, instead he raked his fingers over Bakugo’s sides and stomach, recalling how hard he was trying to hold in his reactions while these spots were targeted. He felt the blonde’s muscles tense and saw goosebumps appear on his skin. He smiled wickedly.

“Fucker!” Bakugo spat. “Get your damn hands offa me!” Bakugo felt the urge to struggle again, to yank his arms and kick his legs, but he knew it was useless and would do nothing but make him look sensitive and weak. So he stayed where he was, teeth grinding and unmoving.

Shindo knew what he was doing. He lightly traced his fingers over Bakugo’s stomach and scribbled them over his sides. Bakugo’s body reluctantly leaned to the right when a stray finger scratched at the edge of his stomach toward his sides. Noticing the reaction, Shindo doubled down, using his other hand to mirror it, scratching lightly.

“Get the fuck away from me, damn it!” Bakugo yelled, steeling his body of any reactions. “You fucking creep!”

Pick up the pace, Black! You only have a few minutes before we continue.

Instead of being discouraged, Shindo smiled and Bakugo’s eyes widened when he started feeling the faintest vibration coming from the other’s fingers.

“Aw boo, looks like there’s little time to waste.” Shindo placed his thumbs over Bakugo’s hips, making the other scowl.

“I’m not ticklish there, you freak. Didn’t you see that or are you that stupid?” 

Without a response, Shindo dug his fingers into Bakugo’s waist with vibrating fingers, pressing his thumbs into his hips in agonizing circles. Bakugo flinched, face contouring into a confused expression. Earlier, when the hands attacked him there, he hadn’t felt ticklish. But now, as Shindo was drawing circles onto his skin with those vibrating thumbs, he couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that seared into his chest and made him buck. 

Like I said folks, Black’s quirk is perfect for tickling. Our hands didn’t elicit a single reaction from Orange, although we truly weren’t trying, but Black doesn’t disappoint!

Shindo chuckled at the commentary. He moved his hands down, pressing into the soft spaces below his hips. Bakugo twitched in his restraints, glaring and cursing in his usual fashion. 

Black seems to be messing with Orange, even after knowing his time is quickly running out. Anyone curious as to what he’s up to?

The invisible audience all grunt in agreement as Bakugo finds it harder and harder to hold still. Knowing that there was a time limit on Shindo further solidified his resolve to stay absolutely still as the fool in front of him rubbed and pinched at his skin like a delusional dumbass.

Yawn! Seems like he was all talk, folks! What do you say, should we pull him and continue?

In that moment, Bakugo made a horrible mistake. One that Shindo had been waiting for. The announcer threatening to pull Shindo caused him to get cocky. He slightly relaxed, a premature celebration when he assumed that Shindo only had a few seconds before he somehow ended up back in his own chair. Not to mention how hard he failed at making Bakugo so much as squirm. So in that moment, he dropped his guard. But as soon as Shindo saw it, he took his hands off of the Blonde’s hips and latched them onto the middle of his ribs. His thumbs kneaded and wiggled roughly into the skin, vibrating harshly and precisely.

Before he could stop himself, Bakugo let out a surprised bark, yanking once at his arms before holding them in that tight position, his biceps straining against the straps. He arched his back slightly and grunted, averting his eyes to avoid the gaze of the smug hero in front of him.

Whoa! I might have spoke too soon! Looks like Black finally struck a nerve! This is so good, we don’t even care about the wasted time. Don’t worry, folks, he’ll pay handsomely for it.

Shindo shrugged his shoulders at the threat, as if didn’t mean much to him. “Looks like I gotta get my moneys worth.” He said with a grin. Bakugo shifted his eyes, a steady stream of curses flowing from his mouth through clenched teeth.

“I’m gonna kiiiaAAAAAAAAAHHH!” 

Well would you look at that, looks like Black didn’t need his chart after all!

At one point, Shindo and his school had been doing charity work with the student of U.A. Having heard of Bakugo and is animalistic behavior at the famous sports festival, his ear caught the Blonde’s name as he heard talk amongst the students of class 1A. Unable to hear all of the specifics, he gathered that Kirishima had accidentally discovered Bakugo’s ticklishness, and the rest of them ganged up on him until he inevitably broke, revealing his weakness to just that small group of classmates.

Shindo found that quite embarrassing. Not only was the feral asshole extremely ticklish, but his friends shamelessly blabbed out loud about it, not bothering to check if anyone like him was listening. He eventually lost interest and walked away, but not before he learned some information that he never thought would be so valuable. 

Not until now.

Shindo had never particularly planned to use this information against Bakugo, but if there was an optimal time to do it, that time was now.

Bakugo bucked his hips and lifted his entire body, trying to leap out of the chair. Although he could barely lift himself a few centimeters, he stayed in that position for a few moments until he let himself thud heavily against the seat, shifting his body away from those damned vibrating fingers as much as he could. But no matter where he went, they stayed glued to his horrifically ticklish ribs.

“No cheating me out of my moment, Blasty!” Shindo teased. Bakugo jolted with a yell when the vibrations became more intense and the two thumbs kneading his ribs turned into ten fingers on each side, harshly jellyfishing and kneading ticklishly into the taut skin. 

Bakugo choked and thrashed, feeling himself losing control with every second the Ketsubustu bastard raked and clawed at his skin. He pressed his hot face into his bicep, mouth and eyes clamped shut and twitching, chest and throat punching with restrained laughter. He held his breath, the determination and stubbornness not to let this fucker, of all people break him was so fierce, he was willing to hold his breath until he suffocated. 

Instead, his breath was forcibly released in the form of a high pitched gasp when those fingers wandered upwards to knuckle into the spot under his arms at the top of his ribs. His “silence” lasted about 5 seconds.

“MMFFH! AAAKKK! AHHHHH SHIT! AHAH! MOTHER FUHHUCK- YOHUHU FUCKING- NAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAH STAHAHAHAP!” 

Bakugo spluttered and thrashed in his restraints, moving every which way instead of away, despite his constant pulling, cursing and threatening, his arms stayed trapped above his head and his legs firmly taut to the chair. 

And there it is, folks! Orange’s number one spot, revealed to us by his fellow hero! Doesn’t it look good to see a smile on that constantly grumpy face? We’ll add an extra 30 seconds for Black, just because this is so good!

Shindo smirked and placed his knee on the edge of the hysterical blonde’s chair, right between his legs. To Bakugo’s dismay, the entire chair started vibrating.

Bakugo threw his head back, writhing in ticklish agony. Not only was the freak attacking his absolute worst spot, which Bakugo thought was more of a secret than it obviously was, but now the damned chair was tickling him. The metal vibrated along his sides and back, spreading along the outer portion and bottom of his thighs and knees. Bakugo desperately tried to lift his body off of the chair, unintentionally pushing himself more into Shindo’s tickling fingers. He didn’t know how, but he felt the ticklish sensation at his inner thighs were stronger than the ones teasing his back and legs, which caused his reddened face to shake back and forth, sweat spraying tragically from hair.

“NO! GET AHAHAHAHAHAFF! AHAHA HAHA HAHAHA! GAAHHHAHAHAHAH DAHMN IT, STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Impressive! Black is thinking outside of the box and is simultaneously tickling multiple spots! Color me impressed! You have 15 seconds left, Black. Make it count.

Stuck between a vibrator and a hard place, Bakugo tried to lift himself out of the chair as much as he could, curses mixing into the pot of his laughter induced hysteria. Shindo mercilessly dug into his ribs, watching with sadistic glee as the blonde’s face turned from red to blue from lack of oxygen. Positive that the Blonde could handle another 15 seconds, and not really caring if he could either way, Shindo increased the vibrations and dug in harder, suppressing a giggle himself when Bakugo’s eyes shot open. His laughter rose in pitch when he suddenly felt vibrations cover his feet like swarming ants. He felt it teasing his heals, running up his arches, swarming torturously over the balls of his feet and running around and in-between his toes. His laughter reached a pitch that would make singers jealous before turning completely silent. All that could be heard was the low hum of the chair and the cracks and creaks of Bakugo fighting desperately against the restraints.

5 seconds!

Shindo suddenly abandoned Bakugo’s ribs. The Blonde breathed in a quick greedy gasp of air before it was forcefully pushed out of him again.

Shindo was at his feet, raking dull nails formed into claws up and down both of his soft soles. He had no time to tease or drag it out, so he went in with all he had. Bakugo threw his head back and went wild, his entire body thrashing, face contorted into a look of pain, and laughter that was silent but with periodic and uncharacteristic squeaks and chokes that would break it. Shindo quickened the pace, immediately finding that the balls of his feet garnered the best reaction. It didn’t matter that the black haired pervert was focusing on just one part of his feet, he felt it all over, even the tops. In the back of his hysterical mind, he was starting to feel lone ticklish vibrations spread over his shins and calfs, which unexpectedly added to the plate of agony he was being served. You would think after a while, he would start to feel numb to the sensations, but in all of his tortured horror, it felt like quite the opposite. So Shindo stayed there vibrating and scratching, vibrating and scratching until… 

Aaannnndddd that’s time! Back to your seat, Black! 

Bakugo slumped forward as soon as Shindo’s fingers left his body. His was coated in a sheen of sweat and his breathing was heavy and loud. Residual ticklish sensations left him twitching and groaning and he huffed in frustration when they persisted. He kept his eyes down, unwilling to lift them to face everyone who had undoubtedly watched the entire scene unfold. 

That was a fantastic job, Black! Don’t worry folks, as exhausted as Orange looks, he's not getting a break any time soon and will continue participating. In fact, his suffering is FAR from over. With Black now magically and unexplainably back in his seat, we can move on to the bidding!

Shindo casually rocked his head back and forth in his seat, as if he were bopping to a really good song. He caught Bakugo’s side eye and lifted his eyebrow, that stupid smirk never leaving his face.

“No hard feelings?” Shindo mocked, amusement plain as day in his eyes.

“You’re… fucking dead… when I get out of this… bastard. I’m going to fuck you up… so badly, you’re not going to be able recognize yourself… when you look in the fucking mirror!” Bakugo spat.

Shindo rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Save your breath, Blasty. Besides you obviously needing it, there’s only a few bundles left and one of them has that sweet spot marked in bright orange ink.” 

Bakugo cursed at him and looked away. He felt Kirishima’s hot gaze on him but refused to meet it, furious that he was put in that humiliating situation. He couldn’t deny though, that after glancing quickly at Midoriya, he noticed the green haired loser was sitting upright instead of slumped to the side, eyes bright with rejuvenated energy. The same could be said for everyone else. As tortuous and embarrassing as that was, he realized everyone got a short break out of it.

Bakugo finally chanced a glance at Kirishima, who hadn’t looked away from him once. The redhead offered a reassuring smile and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Whatever, man. Brush it off, no big deal.” 

Bakugo growled, gave him a dirty look, and glanced away, refusing to feel better about what happened.  

He knew one of those bundles had his stupid spot listed, and after what he just experienced, he knew that this Interdimensional being wouldn’t want to be topped by Shindo. He knew that this little stunt was going to unfairly cost him, but looking at everyone once again, watching their strength and stamina rebuild them to almost 100%, he couldn’t decide if the break was going to be good for them, or since their energy was back up, make it more fun for these sick freaks to drain from them again. Either way, he swore he wouldn’t break again.

No matter what.

[silverskull]

Shades & Hues

Part 1: Shades of Sorrow

Tim and Lucy often have happy kisses, but sad hugs on-screen. What if we flipped that idea and wrote a two-shot? * She kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him.

(Full fic below the cut, or click here to read and bookmark on AO3)

Someone offers her a wet wipe, and she bats it away like a dandelion seed. It flaps in the corner of her vision, sweeping against her cheek and she sees florid stripes, the red lines harsh in the sunlight reflecting off the white gauze. They wave it at her again and she shrugs her way out from under their arm, irritated, and letting herself be led instead by the deathgrip her hands have on the front of his uniform.

No.

No - not death. Not. Death.

“Lucy, we have to get him on the stretcher.”

It’s Bailey, and she’s calm, steady, level. Everything Lucy suddenly is not.

Her breath is too hot; too tight in her throat. Breathing is too much to think about - how to get enough air - and she knows she’s doing something wrong, gasping the way she is, grinding her teeth so hard she can feel the entirety of her lower jaw all the way in the backs of her ears, but she’s fighting against something much bigger. A monster in her lungs, clawing at her windpipe and scraping its way towards her lips. A pain that’s constricting her muscles and fettering her to this one single point on the tarmac. A fear too big to name.

“Shit, I’m showing cardiac arrest.”

Arrest.

Arrest.

They’d only stopped to assist Nolan with an arrest. A simple thing. Standard procedure. Celina simply wasn’t strong enough to restrain the suspect, and Nolan needed more boots on the ground. Across the console, in the driver’s seat, she’d seen Tim tip his head, and he flipped the sirens at the exact same moment as she lifted the radio. Always in sync. They weren’t even on call, just close by. Convenient.

“Ma’am, I need you to let go!”

“John, just get her away from him!”

Strong hands surround her, pulling her inexorably backwards, and Celina’s dark bun bobs into her line of sight, her small fingers unlatching Lucy’s, one by one, from the clamp they have on the placket of his open shirt. She stumbles, tripping over her own knees, and the sun flashes at her through the palm trees, momentarily blinding her.

***

“You got this?” he asks, lazily, but with just enough arrogance that her first response is to scoff at him.

“I got this.” She throws Tim a withering look as she hops out of the passenger’s seat, keeping her ears open to the garbled declarations of Nolan’s suspect. The man is red-faced, sweaty. His hair hangs in greasy strings around his ears, and (though it wasn’t something she’d ever say aloud) he definitely has crazy eyes.

Juarez approaches her as she rounds the hood of the shop, limping almost imperceptibly, her right hand clenched, white-knuckled, around the butt of her gun. She nods once at Lucy, her chin low and her mouth wide open, quietly gulping down deep breaths.

“You good here?” Lucy asks, reaching a steadying arm towards Juarez’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am,” Celina says, nodding rigidly. “Officer Nolan got the situation in hand.” She shakes her head quickly, straightening her spine. “I should have taken Detective Harper up on those extra sparring sessions.”

“Well, lesson learned this time.” Lucy couldn’t fault the rookie for something she’d had to figure out the hard way herself. She looks away, raising a hand to her eyebrows and squinting across the dusty sidewalk at Nolan. “You want us to take this guy for you?”

“Nope, I got it!” 

Nolan is almost as sweaty as the angry man, wrestling the cuffs onto his lean, knotted arms. Lucy can see track marks amongst the veins; bruises and torn flesh score his skin all the way up into the grubby shirt wreathed above his elbows.

“You sure about that?” Tim is almost languid, resting his arm along the window ledge and watching them from the shade of the driver’s seat. “You’re looking a little… dewy.” 

A laugh bubbles up under Lucy’s tongue, and she turns to give Tim another look of wry reproach. She can already hear his fingers tapping lightly against the car door, see the small crease between his eye and his nose that let her know he’s mocking them, his eyes darting to her for acknowledgement. She knows him so well, she can picture his moves before he even makes them.

What she doesn’t see is the prisoner’s wife. 

Small, meth-skinny, with ragged, dull hair. She’s a blur through the collapsed screen door of the dilapidated house, a stain the same colour as the chipped beige clapboard sagging into the burnt lawn.

Juarez moves first, dropping to a squat and pulling out her holstered weapon.

Time slows. Congeals. The heat from the asphalt rises in waves before Lucy’s eyes, and her head feels too heavy to turn.

One black flash against the beige house.

One deafening bang, echoing clangorously around her.

She sees Tim, his lips parting - the start of a smile or a yell, she can’t be sure - and his eyes fix on her.

Blue, blue sky. Blue, blue eyes.

Feathered red.

Shattered red.

Blossoming red.

He lurches back into his seat, and, with all the violence of a smashed record, time catches back up to her.

Juarez is yelling at the woman, Nolan is yelling at the radio, the suspect is yelling at the ground, and Lucy is yelling at Tim.

She can’t see him - just red. Red where there should be blue. Red where there should be Tim. Nothing but red.

“Officer Chen!” Nolan’s voice cuts through her concentration like a blade, and she swings around, her arms on autopilot and reaching for her gun. Nolan is hauling the man off the ground, grunting with the effort, and he growls something else at her. There’s something she’s supposed to do. Somewhere she should be. She looks towards Celina, who is already grappling with the small woman, and with a swift kick, knocks her to the ground. The gun drops and glints black in the dry earth, feet away from where the woman falls. 

How do guns glint? How does black flash?

“Lucy!” Celina’s voice is high, and it pierces her rumination, drawing her back into the present. Juarez has the woman handcuffed beneath her, but her worried eyes are set on Lucy. “Lucy, I’ve got this. Go check on him.”

Him? Tim.

Tim… Tim!

She whirls around, her feet starting to run before her mind catches up with them, and she stumbles in the rough lawn before she moves forward. She’s aware of Nolan manhandling his prisoner into the back of his shop, aware of the shrill sound of distant sirens spiralling in an eerie vortex as they draw closer, but all she sees is red. Red on the windshield. Red on the white painted window frame. Red dripping relentlessly onto the road below their shop. She hears a scream as she crashes against the driver’s door, her hands reaching for his head and tipping it - easily, far too easily - towards her.

A bubble of blood bursts in the corner of his lips and his eyelids flicker. His shoulder is wet, and sticky below her hands. A dark bloom billowing across the navy of his uniform shirt.

His lips twitch and the screaming changes, and she suddenly recognises her own voice, pinched with horror, stretching his name into a thin wire of fear in the air between them. She gasps and swallows, grasping clumsily at the door handle and almost knocking herself out as she hauls it out of her way. He droops limply in his seat, only the belt and her hands keeping him upright, and she can hear herself calling him again, again, again, but he’s not answering.

***

She falls backwards into Nolan’s arms, the fight draining out of her like water through sand, and all she can do is watch helplessly as Bailey and her team cut away the last of Tim’s white vest and prep the AED. His skin is smeared with blood, and she finds herself looking at her own hands, finally recognising the need for a wipe - she’s covered in red. Her hands, her sleeves, the beds of her fingernails. Even, she realises, under the full glare of the sun, all across the arch of her cheekbones. Bright sparks of his blood flashing red beside the streaks of her own tears. She almost reaches to rub her eyes, but then Celina is there, calmly restraining her wrists and running a cool cloth over her stained fingers.

“Let me help you just clean these off. It won’t take a second.”

“Three, two, one… clear!”

Bailey’s command and Celina’s appeal mix and blend with the background noise in a discordant chorus of voices, and Lucy lets her hands be held and wiped, her shoulders still supported (or restrained) by Nolan. She sees Tim’s body buck starkly, spasming in a viciously sharp arc as the AED shocks him, and she gasps, reaching out as if to stop his pain.

“Still no rhythm. Run it again!”

“There now, this hand is done. Let’s have the other…”

Celina releases one of her hands, and it hovers in mid air, her own index finger blocking Tim’s arm from view. His head has rolled to the side, and his eyes are closed. He could be sleeping, turning his head towards her in his dreams, releasing a soft breath into her ear. 

Sometimes he murmurs. Rarely, and completely unintelligibly, but she can’t help herself from drawing closer, stroking his cheek and bumping his nose with hers, encouraging him to repeat himself to her. He doesn’t, and she still can’t tell what he’s said, but she holds those moments like a gift, precious and irreplaceable and just for her; something he only started doing a few months into their relationship; something he still gruffly denies in the broad light of day.

His body arcs again, and she sees his eyes spring open, crystal bright where they catch in a beam of sunlight, and his mouth expands in a silent scream.

Bailey’s team seems to exhale as one, shifting and reforming around one another with practised ease, changing positions and equipment in a confident dance of precision, like the gears of a well-tuned clock clicking seamlessly into place. Lucy rises out of Nolan’s grasp, and this time he lets her go, Celina hovering in her periphery like a concerned hummingbird. She crawls the few steps to Tim’s side, black pebbles from the asphalt sticking to her fingers, but she hardly notices. All she can see is his chest rising and falling; rising and falling fitfully, as if he’s struggling to make his lungs work the way they should. His hands are at his sides, trapped in the torn fabric of his shirt and tapping a spasmodic rhythm against his thighs.

She’s hooked her fingers into his before she even realises she’s reached him, and his head jerks unsteadily towards her. His eyes lock onto hers, and for a second he seems to catch his breath, inhaling slowly, fully, as his fingers wrap around hers.

“Lucy…”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay sweetheart, we’ve got you.”

She feels herself finally crashland back into her body, the cacophony around her instantly transforming into the familiar cadence of emergency calls and orders, the uniform colours and vehicle shapes once again making sense.

He’s been shot.

Tim. Her love. Her heart. Her world.

He’s been shot, and she can tell it’s not good.

There’s so much blood, still, all over him, and his clothes, and the ground; and his eyes are too wide and too scared. She can hear the words ‘pneumothorax’ and ‘pulmonary edema’ from the medical team, and she knows they have to get him to the hospital, right now, or … Her mind blanks it out and she shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought, of the tears that have squeezed themselves out onto her lower lashes.

“We’ve got you, love. It’s going to be okay.”

She runs a hand through his hair, ruining his carefully arranged ‘do, and stroking her fingers along the edge of his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter closed at the touch of her thumb, but his breath catches in his throat, and he coughs wetly and jerks back to wakefulness with a fright, his eyes searching restively for hers.

“Lucy, we have to go.” Bailey is opposite her, an oxygen mask in hand, already hissing with air and Lucy nods, once, and then again, more firmly. She squeezes his fingers tight and brushes her thumb across his lips.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And she kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him. He breathes against her, and she inhales him, stifling a sob and holding his face close, lingering against him for a long moment; savouring the beat of his heart pulsing warm and quick under her fingers at his jaw and temples.

And then Nolan is behind her again, drawing her away, and Bailey is covering Tim’s face with the oxygen mask. The EMTs load his stretcher onto a gurney and rush him towards the back of the ambulance. She watches, feeling as if she’s been completely hollowed out; as if anything stronger than a light gust of wind could blow her away.

“Lucy. Go on, we’ve got your shop.”

Instead of pulling her, this time Nolan shoves her gently, and she almost trips again, looking back at him and wondering why he looks so strange. He nods, and Lucy automatically imitates the gesture, and tears fall from her eyes, clearing her vision, and Nolan looks like himself again, tilting his head urgently towards the ambulance.

She takes a breath, turning from him, from their shops, from the dark blotch of blood on the ground where the stretcher lay, and she hurries after Bailey, hoisting herself up and inside the closing ambulance doors. AO3 link💖

On to Part 2!

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Cannot Hide

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, past trauma, past abuse, scared boys, mentions of murder, hiding , lies, hurt/comfort, teasing, needy boys, panic, allusions to omorashi/piss kink, rough kisses, biting/marking, grinding, sixty nine, accidental eye gouging, blow jobs, desperation, body worship, Dom's pretty uncut alpha cock, d/s undertones, denial, cunnilingus, rough fingering, cum shots, getting caught, showers, The Talk, family moments, fluff, mentions of past SA, mentions of past miscarriage, surprisingly sweet moments, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: explicit AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Colson hated Tuesdays, they had always bugged him. He knew deep down it was probably trauma related- his father had sold him on a Tuesday, but he swore they were honestly just shit. A lot of bad days fell on Tuesdays. Of course that next morning when he woke up with his Alpha curled around him the omega wasn't thinking how much he hated those awful days. He was actually thinking about how hard the killer's cock felt where it was pressed between his ass cheeks and against his spine, slightly curved to the left. He was wondering if he should try to fit in a quick morning fuck or linger lazily in bed snuggling. When he felt his child reposition in his stomach to lay more heavily on his bladder he knew whatever his decision was, he needed to piss first. Of fucking course.

Dom tried to make himself sleep, he'd been trying all bloody night but most of it was spent worrying about his sort of mother-in-law. He loved the woman to death and he hoped there was a damn good reason she was hiding something but the more he pondered the more he worried. Why would she have to hide anything good? She wouldn't. Especially not with as much money as she was funneling out of Col’s company each month. He'd already made up his mind that after getting his lover to work he'd follow her. It wasn't like stalking a pretty blonde omega was new to him. He just hated hiding anything from his partner. He kept telling himself he'd explain everything once he knew what Collette was up to. Even if it was something understandable he'd still tell his man about it. When they were home that night he'd curl up with him and they'd talk about their day. In reality it was just a few hours until he could be honest. That wasn't so hard.

The omega tried to slip out of bed but of course had trouble making it. He tried to use the side of the mattress to pull himself up and ended up falling back against his mate. Dom almost choked but he was able to downplay the sound, he didn't want his lover feeling embarrassed. “G’morning gorgeous. Need ‘elp?” He asked gently, aware of how badly it could go if the man was already in a mood.

Colson narrowed his gaze as he turned his head to look at the boy under him. He wanted to be annoyed but the tired look in his jade eyes made it impossible. His current situation was Dom's fault technically but he wasn't as frustrated about it as he had been before. He knew logically they were past the dangerous point and mostly in the clear. It was still hard to admit their child existed but it was getting easier every day. Every time he felt their little one move. “Just a little leverage.”

“Push or pull?” The Alpha offered and when his mate shrugged he started helping him stand up from where he was. If he didn't have to get out of bed he didn't want to yet. Their bed meant his day of lies didn't have to start. Fuck, what would he even say he needed to do?

Dom rolled over and stared at the wall. Part of him wanted to go after Megan instead but there were others who could find her. He knew Col sent men after her but only he could go follow Collette. He couldn't put it off or ignore it. His mate was due in the next month and they would need her near. He'd never be able to have her around his newborn if he didn't know he could trust her one hundred percent. He had to get it out of the way and then he would do away with Megan next. After that he could focus on getting sleep before becoming a father. He had a feeling he wouldn't be allowed much after that. As a boy he'd cared for his sisters while his parents slept. He remembered the sleepless nights and constant tears.

“You okay?” Colson’s voice was soft as he got back to bed and slid in behind his lover. Dom was obviously awake but turned away from him and that more than anything scared him. He didn't think the boy had rolled away once since they'd met.

“Mmm, jus’ tired.” Dom sighed before taking a deep breath and turning back over, a calm smile on his face. He refused to let anything else upset his partner. He had to protect his family, even if it was from one of their own.

“Yeah, you look like shit. Maybe you should stay home today? At least the morning? I know you worry but I got my gun and the boys won't leave-” Kells started on his explanation of safety but the boy interrupted him surprisingly.

“Yeah, might be smart. Long as you stay wiv the boys.” It wasn't the best solution but it was a cover of sorts. He could take Col to work and then act like he would come home. Besides, the hotel was the best place to start his search. He reached over and laid his palms on Colson's belly, his fingers petting softly over the stretched inked skin.

“Shit are you dying? You're actually going to let me go be the boss I've always been? Alone? Should I check your temperature?” The omega teased, arching a brow.

“Look I know we boff want yas sticking summat up me arse but not a fhermometer aye?” The boy teased back. “I trust yas and the boys. At least for a few ‘ours. Jus’ need to get some rest. Plus I ain't been able to go out since Blain's dad.” He added truthfully. He always tried to be open about his darker needs.

“You literally stabbed someone the day before yesterday. I think you'll be okay.” Colson huffed, rolling his eyes at his partner. He couldn't completely understand the urges the killer had but he assumed it was something like his OCD. If he lost control then everything went to hell in a handbasket. If Dominic didn't complete his ritual it was the same.

“You know it don't count. ‘Elps but don't count.” The Alpha explained softly as he curled up on Col’s chest. He never minded the bitch position as his mate liked to call it, plus he got to be close to Col’s mostly flat tits and the omega played with his hair. It was one of his favorite ways to cuddle.

Colson sighed and carded his fingers through the younger man's hair, burying his nose there for a moment. He loved the way his partner smelled first thing in the morning. They normally showered the night before and fucked before or after. The psycho smelled like home. “I know. But I don't know if I can handle you doing that to her.” He admitted softly. He'd seen remnants of Yungblud's real kills, pictures that Tom had taken fresh. It was a brutal mess and even though he could see the art, it hurt something inside him to picture it happening to someone he thought was a friend.

“She wants to kill you and our baby.” It was said quietly, not that the other was trying to convince Col exactly but it scared him to think the omega wasn't ready to let go. She couldn't push more than that besides actually trying and Dom couldn't let it come to that. “She ‘urt you. She tried to sell our boy.”

“I know. I'm not saying don't kill her, I'm just… I don't know if I can see her like that.”

“So I can kill ‘er?” The Alpha asked but the room went silent and his pulse raced in his chest. “Cols- baby- she ra-”

“I know!” Kells couldn't hear it again. He fucking couldn't. It was hard enough to live with what his uncle did but to add her to that list? No. It was different. “I should do it.”

“I don't want you sharing the bloody air wiv ‘er! She wanted to steal you from me and end our family Cols. I need to protect you. I weren't ‘ere before! I couldn't save you but I'm ‘ere now. I'm right ‘ere and I can't- I can't-”

“Hey, shush. Hey, I'm okay. We're okay. If you start crying like a pussy I will too. I'm always like two fucking seconds away from crying or fucking you and I only enjoy one of those things. You weren't here because you were a fucking child and shouldn't have been responsible for anything. You should have been protected but neither of us were and that's not on us. We're here now and we're taking care of each other. This isn't just on you to take care of us. Don't be a knotheaded asshole just because you knocked me up. You're supposed to fucking tell me when you get this scared.” Colson tried to stop the panic in its tracks. It almost broke him to hear his normally terrifying mate so young seeming and worried.

“Don't shush me. I'm not a bloody knot’ead. Fuck you.” Dom laughed wetly, wiping his cheeks before he leaned back enough to face his lover.

“I dunno. You were acting pretty Alpha yesterday. Was kind of surprised you didn't try to piss on me.” The thought sent a wave of arousal through the man but he tried not to show it. Of course his lover’s nose was attuned to the scent though.

Without meaning to, they both rolled to face each other and Dom’s thigh slipped between Col's to fit against his heated core. It was funny how often they didn't mean to start anything but still ended up having sex. More often than not they didn't mean to, it just happened. In all their time together they hadn't planned out a date or sex night. Neither thought they were exactly a normal couple but that was only a problem when they fell together in public.

“You'd like tha' too much.” Dom purred, surprised himself how fast his mood switched. He expected it from his lover but his own didn't normally follow suit that quickly. It was like his body knew they needed to connect.

“Fuck yeah I would.” He wouldn't really he didn't think, at least not in front of others where he couldn't change. In the privacy of their home though it would drive him wild.

Their lips met in a rough kiss, more teeth than tongues. Their anxiety was finding an outlet even if they didn't ask for it. “Too ‘ard right now. Sorry.” The Alpha explained but that was obvious, his cock was a hard line between them, slotting against Col's belly and making a wet smear of precum on his bare skin. They had only slipped into boxers the night before, worried that they'd get another middle of the night visitor but now Kells was regretting letting the other man wear anything. Ever. He should always be naked and ready. “Wha' ya want?”

“You.”

“Yeah but-” Hot wet breath panted between them as Dom paused his question to lick over his lover's mouth. “Wha' you need of me?” He tried a different tactic.

Colson tried to check in with his body but he wasn't sure. He was dripping wet and aching but the ache was… different than normal. He wasn't sure he could handle getting fucked before work. It struck him suddenly what he really wanted and he flicked his tongue out to wet his lips. “Wanna blow you.”

“Wha'?” Dom blinked a few times, his brows furrowed. He wasn't saying his mate was a selfish lover but… Kells would be the first to admit he was. The Alpha could count on one hand the number of blow jobs he'd gotten and it felt awkward to be offered. It always felt too arseholey to him, he needed to share pleasure, not take it.

“Sixty-nine?” Kells offered instead when he felt how shocked the boy was. He wanted to pamper the killer after being so good for him the day before. He'd protected them and let the boss lead even though his instincts told him to kill. Dom always took such good care of him without much in return and he knew that deep down. He knew he was selfish and needed control, he knew he'd literally hurt the other multiple times, he knew he was probably putting his bitch through hell the entire pregnancy but the Alpha took it all in stride and asked for more. The masochistic fucker had even proposed to him, another thing he was presently ignoring. “Let me play with your cock. The fuck dude?” And that was the truth of it under everything else. At times he just loved the feeling of his lover's dick and something inside him craved his cum. If he couldn't walk around with it in his cunt all day his belly was the next best thing.

“So I can blow you too?”

“No. I want to focus. You can finger me if it's that much of a fucking hardship to let me suck your dick. Now flip over.”

The boy started to protest but when the omega's eyes flashed gold and he arched a brow at him he pushed himself up to lay the other way. The moment was slightly awkward and he wondered errantly if anyone could get into that position and keep it sexy. The killer almost squeaked when his mate started tugging at his boxers and made him fall too quickly. Dom moved to wiggle free of them, accidentally hitting Colson in the face when his now partially soft cock popped free.

“Poke a damn eye out with that monster. Shit.” Kells teased and when the other pushed up on his elbow to look he knew there must be a pink spot on his face. Fuck he hoped he didn't bruise- how would he explain that? His lover flushed and he couldn't help but laugh though most of his focus was drawn to the scent so close to his face. He could feel his mouth watering and his thighs getting wet. It was honestly better they'd had a silly moment together because now he could play with the boy half soft. He didn't know what it was but he loved the silky smooth feel especially under his tongue.

The Alpha tried not to thrust as his partner curled his palm around the base of his cock and teased his tip with his tongue. His fist clenched as he watched the older man, it was hard to see with Col's belly between them but it helped him to watch. He couldn't be too surprised if he could see what was coming. Somehow it still shocked him when his dominant rolled his foreskin between his lips. “Not a bloody bubble.” He whimpered, biting softly at Colson's thigh. The other man giggled but let him go and followed the tightening skin down his shaft. “Fuck-”

“Mmm, mmhmm.” Even with his mouth full the omega found it hard not to talk. He was always in control and he still was, but he couldn't boss his bitch around with a dick down his throat. His head bobbed a few times but the crick in his spine didn't like it so he pulled off and grumbled- “You're gonna have to do it.”

“I can't fuck ya face. Not right now. I ain't never-”

“I don't care. Here.” He huffed, raising his thigh and folding his leg to keep his core exposed. “You can touch but if I feel your mouth on me you're in deep shit.”

The Alpha's eye twitched. He didn't think there was anyone else who would get in trouble for pleasuring his pregnant mate but his baby mumma was a special one. Granted he knew there weren't many men who would deny the opportunity to choke someone on their cock. The problem was he didn't trust his body not to pop a knot. He hadn't been able to in over a month, they were being careful so close to time. Since he'd never had so much control and was barely used to the act itself he didn't trust he could keep his family safe. Colson ignored him and swallowed him back down, making his body jerk. He felt sweat break out over his skin and his instincts warred for control.

Pregnancy sex was so fucking awkward and here Kells was trying to give his lover a treat. He was trying to show the boy he trusted him and get what he needed at the same time. His instincts were screaming for his mate's release. He didn't have to understand it to try and make it happen but when the bitch didn't move he started stroking.

“Oh bloody ‘ell motherfuck-” Dominic choked on a curse as he pressed his face against his lover's thighs and breathed deep. The scent of his dripping arousal was both calming and breaking down his needs. There was something extra to his scent, warm and desperate. Something soft that made Dom think ‘home’. His hips twitched, he couldn't stop it completely, his body chasing the release his mate was working for. He wanted to reach for the man's wet folds but he didn't trust himself to do anything. The feeling of his cockhead bruising Col's throat was too much. The tight wet heat was driving him mad.

Kells tried not to smirk around his Alpha's dick, he could feel the boy starting to let go. He kept his fist tight around Dom's forming knot and his mouth sucking like a porn star. He might not have the kid's DSL’s but he knew what made his bitch feel good. The tip of his tongue flicked through Dom’s slit and he heard the man curse again.

“Cols-” He groaned, his body rocking harder even while he fought to be gentle. When Colson squeezed his knot just so he shoved his face deeper between the omega's thighs. Kells locked his knees when he felt breath against his folds and would have scoffed if he could when the Alpha growled at him.

Dom’s tongue flicked out, the tip almost reaching his mate's inner sanctum as he lovingly teasingly called his man's cunt. He felt lost in a haze of pleasure and the cloying scent of slick. He was overwhelmed and driven to a kind of madness. He battled the hold around his face and tried to get closer. All his instincts screamed he just needed one fucking taste. He could feel drool bead down his cheek to mix with the slick painting the older man's skin and he knew he was a feral mess.

With one hand stroking fast and his mouth a constant suction for a moment Colson barely noticed how close his bitch was. When he worried about clenching his thighs too tight an idea struck him and he reached behind himself with his free hand. His fingers tangled in Dom's hair and he yanked rough, keeping his good boy in place. He wanted to lavish him with pleasure for once but the selfless bastard couldn't seem to stop himself from returning it. He kept his grip but focused back on the silky heavy weight of Dom’s cock in his mouth and the feeling of his knot pulsing under his palm. He was close and the man knew he was about to get a mouthful.

Between one breath and the next the Alpha's rapture bowled him over, an orgasm so intense it felt like a punch to the gut. His body trembled as his dick jerked, shooting white heat down Col’s throat. The sound of his omega’s sloppy swallowing and filthy moans had him shaking even harder but what his lover did next made him fall in love all over again.

Kells waited for his bitch to gasp in a breath and all at once he opened his thighs and slammed Dom face first against his core. Mid-orgasm or not his Alpha was all instinct and his tongue started moving before he knew what was going on. When the boss couldn't focus anymore he pulled his mouth off, surprised when another spurt hit him right in the face. He flushed hot but felt wild enough it didn't shame him, he just kept his hold firm on the boy's knot.

Dom growled against his mate's dripping cunt, his tongue trying to search out every drop of slick he could. There was so little left in his mind all he could feel was a desperation to get him off. He distantly felt the other licking his cockhead, teasing his foreskin as if he too was finding every bit of cum. It felt almost animalistic in the position they were in but he couldn't stop himself until the omega physically pushed him off.

Colson's body was searching for release he couldn't find just from the boy's tongue and he was pushed to the edge already. When he forced his lover back he was shocked by the crimson glare leveled on him as if Dom didn't understand who he was for a moment. He saw the monster in his mate, the killer who kept him safe. He wasn't like the other Alphas no, but damn was he far more frightening. “Touch me.” He rasped through a bruised throat and the other got to work automatically.

Dominic pushed himself up on his hip and fit his hand between Col's trembling legs. Two fingers slipped deep in his core while his pinkie did something he hadn't tried before and slid through slick to shove deep in his ass. His eyes went wide but he didn't tell Dom to stop which was all the permission the psycho seemed to need. His hand rocked Col’s body enough he was pretty sure the bed was shaking. With his bitch's cum on his tongue he bit a pillow and moaned curses that sounded like screams. He was so lost to the building pleasure in his guts he didn't feel the boy move until he felt a wet heat around his dick. Dom swallowed him down with a practiced ease and fucking hummed- shattering what control the omega had left.

Kells felt his body curl up as he shook and drenched the bed, his orgasm hitting harder than it had in a while and he damn well knew it was the new line his mate crossed. He hadn't really tried ass play but for the life of him he couldn't say why. He lost track of what curses he moaned into the fabric as he rocked his hips and chased release. Eventually he felt too overstimulated and he had to push his lover off again. Those red eyes locked on his as Dom licked his lips. The Alpha looked feral but at least he pulled his touch free.

“Oh ew! Ain't this ‘ow you got into this mess? Fuck you guys. You supposed to be at work!” A young voice huffed from the barely open door and Dom turned to glare at the intruder. It took him a moment to recognize Blain but when those peridot green eyes looking back went wide he felt his own calm. He would never hurt his family. He made sure no important bits were showing on either of them though they were obviously in a compromising position. It took the kid a second to swallow his fear, remember he was safe, and shut the door again with him on the other side. “Fine fuck all day for all I care. I'm staying ‘ome anyways. I'm surrounded by ‘orny freaks!” His voice trailed down the hall but it reassured them both that if he was bitching he wasn't truly scared of upset.

“Guess we gotta get used to tha’.” Dom huffed, clearing his throat. Kells was still hiding in the pillow but he was pretty sure the omega was laughing. “Or maybe learn to lock the bloody door.”

“Yeah. That. Shit. You okay? You went psycho there for a sec.” Colson asked as he pushed the fabric away and patted it and he was thankful when his lover followed and laid down next to him.

“I dunno wha’s up. Ya smell…” He trailed off and felt another growl rumble in his chest. Shite, that was weird. He tried to give his lover an apologetic look but the man just arched a brow. “You like control. I like losing it. We perfect tog'ever.”

“Mmm cheesy bitch.” They shared a soft smile and a softer kiss, their tongues sharing their flavor between them. They lingered like that for a bit but the kid was correct, they couldn't stay in bed all day.

Eventually Dom helped his partner stand and the man paused at the bathroom door. “Come clean up, one of us has to check on him and it ain't gonna be me. It's too early and I have to get going.”

The Alpha huffed but obeyed as he normally did, joining his omega just long enough to clean up. Kells liked to savor his showers alone, especially before work so he could get mentally prepared, and Dom wouldn't take that away from him. Besides the longer they spent alone without the distraction of fucking the more likey he was to talk so he took his leave with a messy kiss and dried off before slipping on lounge pants. He found Blain in the living room, curled up on the couch wrapped in a fuzzy blanket watching television and scrolling his new phone. He only made it a few steps in before he was turning on his heel and hoping the boy didn't hear him.

“I fink he needs you. You're needed. Not me. I can't bloody do it. I didn't fink- but I knew- but shite! You go.” The Alpha was rambling before he even reached the bathroom and when Colson popped his soapy head out he glared.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He grumbled. Dom always let him enjoy his shower. The younger man looked stressed, his cheeks flushed and his hands fidgeting. It felt like an awkward scene overall especially with his bubbly mohawk but if his mate noticed he didn't say.

“Its um… Blain urm-”

“Yes?”

“Ya know…” The bitch wiggled his hand in the general direction of Col's… stomach? Cock? What the fuck?

“I don't fucking know and I'm about to get soap in my eyes so hurry before I kick your ass.”

“It's Blain's… time. I fink. I could smell ‘im.”

“Oh. OH! Well shit.”

“Yeeeeah.”

“Take him some pads and don't be an ass. You're the one who wanted to be a dad so badly. What's it you do for Tom? Do that.” Col huffed, closing the door again to rinse his hair but he could still see the shadow of his love. He knew he was being a dick and the younger boy would probably be most comfortable with him. It wasn't fair what he said, they both wanted to take the kid in. “Shit! Give me a second. Don't you dare go talk to him. You'll fuck it up.”

“I resent tha’. I raised an omega, fanks. And I been caring for Tom and you. I jus'... I'm worried I scared ‘im. I don't want to scare our kids.” The Alpha's voice was so soft he barely heard it over the water but it hurt his heart all the same. He finished his bathing in record time before he let Dom dry him gently with a fluffy soft towel. As the killer worked he found the kit his mother gave him and he checked to make sure it was full. Pads, pain killers, muscle relaxers, nausea medication, scent dampening spray, and whatever else the young omega might need. He was just glad they'd gone shopping for clothes already and he made sure to get Blain all he might want. Heats could be a bitch on skin sensitivity and he didn't want him overwhelmed. After he zipped it up and let Dom help him into sweats he took a deep breath and walked out.

Blain rolled his eyes the second he saw them coming, his cheeks flushing when he saw the toiletry bag. It was nondescript but it was obvious, especially with the Alpha hanging back. Kells took a seat next to him and set the kit down, pushing it gently over. “So wha', we gonna ‘ave The Talk? Cause I don't think you know shite about condoms.” His bright eyes dropped to Col’s belly and the man laughed. Damn the kid was quick.

“Do you need The Talk?” He asked simply as his mate wandered off to the kitchen. His lover was a caretaker and he knew he would be bringing tea.

“Dont fuck, don't let an alpha knot me, and don't even go near an unmated one until it passes. I don't want blockers- Doc already offered. I ain't a pussy.” The last stung the man but it was to be expected. He had felt the glare from the boy at work when he covered up what he was. He was proud of the kid but he knew it would be a hard road. Thankfully he wasn't the only omega in the home.

“This has everything you need for now and anything it doesn't you can order. Just… if you get toys to help make damn sure it's under your name. I don't want to see that shit. I'll get you your own safe box.” He didn't know if Blain was too young for that side of his heat or if it would mostly feel like the flu and cramps. He hadn't been horny his first time but the one when he met Dom? Fuck.

“I shouldn't ‘ave said tha’. Tom explained to me. I get why you did wha’ ya did. I'm jus’ so bloody tired of the bullshite Alphas get away with. You should be the boss because you fucking are one, not cause you acted like a knot’eaded fuck. You a good omega. Tha' weren't fairs of me.” Blain sounded so much like a softer Dom it was fucking weird but he swallowed his own emotions and shook his head.

“We're good dude. You're right. It's bullshit but I didn't even realize that until a fucking Alpha showed me.” Kells laughed exasperatedly. “I want to help. That's all. We care about you. Do you have any questions?”

“I ‘ad one ‘eat before but… I'm still a bit scared. I don't want to be out of control. Was it bad for you when you were my age?”

Col had to drop his gaze a moment as memories rushed through his mind. The first time he saw slick tinged with blood, how fucking terrified he was, how high his fever went, when his uncle found him almost passed out- “I've only had two.” He cleared his throat and stared at the couch between them. “I was attacked during my first and it- I was a few years younger than you and I ended up pregnant.” He didn't have to tell him and he didn't want him terrified of the world but at the same time he could still picture the kid with blood on his face so he knew the other omega already knew. It was good to warn him. Just in case. Besides, if he wanted the boy to trust him… He cleared his throat and kept on, his palm absentmindedly cupping his belly. He was surprised when Blain sat up and scooted closer, his knee against Col's stomach.

“It was my uncle. He'd done the same to my mom and my dad sold her, like yours tried to sell you. So when dad caught my uncle with me…” He shrugged. He could feel his eyes burn but he kept on. “He sold me for cheap and I ended up brought here. My mom and her mate found me and bought me, like Travis had her. I didn't even know I was carrying before I lost the baby. It was the worst few months of my life. I went on blockers after that because I thought I was made wrong. My dad always said I was a disappointment and shit, he was right! I couldn't even have a kid. I tried to act like an Alpha until the day Dom found me. So even if you do decide to try blockers, they don't ruin anything.” His voice never raised and he barely shook. He was surprised at himself but relaying the story in that situation made it far easier. He knew his mate was listening too and that helped.

“I don't want 'em. If you ain't noticed I'm a bit stubborn. I like wha’ I am. It feels right to me. My dad always said it was fucked and he was going to sell me I guess. Had some friend he was setting up a deal with years ago. Guess it fell through but he was searching out a new one ‘ere.” Blain shrugged. “I never wanted tha’. I don't wanna be given to someone, I wanna find me'self and jus’ bloody live. I know I like wearing skirts and heels and makeup and I like tha' I'm a bit curvy in the right places. I don't wanna walk down the street and be attacked but… I'm good wiv me. I'm sorry you went through tha’. No one deserves it. I don't know ‘ow the world is still so backwards but you… You might jus’ be kinda alright. Badarse even. So,” His attention dropped to Colson's stomach as if he couldn't stand to be so sweet but even though he reached out he didn't touch without permission. “You'd ‘ave a big sibling already, aye? I'll watch over you for ‘em. If tha’s alright?” The last was a question for Kells and the man knew the boy was still scared this was temporary. He took his so small hand and laid it against his stomach, fighting tears as he nodded.

“I think that would be awesome. As long as you want. We weren't joking yesterday, you're a part of this family now. I'm glad you're so comfortable being an omega but to keep you safe we have to put an Alpha's name on your papers as your guardian. We'd like to put our names on it. They'll be forged-” He laughed wetly. “But they'll be real to us. If you're cool with it?”

“Only if your idiot Alpha stops being a creeper! ‘Ow long you gonna spy on us?” Blain raised his voice to tease. A noise like china rattling hit their ears before the other man rushed out of the kitchen, a platter in his hold full of tea and plain toast. Three cups and two plates. The bastard was precious. “You really wanna be my guardians? My dad said I'm a ‘andful.”

“Does it seem like we ain't? Course we wanna. You ours already in me mind.” Dom shrugged.

“You're both bloody freaks but… yeah. Fanks. I'd love to stay.” The boy giggled when he felt something flutter against his palm.

“Punk agrees. So that's settled. You sure you're happy kid? The meds I'm leaving with you are prescription shit. I'm trusting you.” Col had to add. With how they found the boy he couldn't be blamed for worrying.

“Ain't got a death wish, just a blood lust. You can trust me. Don't gotta go all worried mum on me.”

The word was said as a joke but it still made Colson pause, his gaze catching Dom’s who smiled back behind his tea. “Well ya fit right in.”

“I noticed. Could you teach me ‘ow to use a gun?” He asked of Kells.

Before Dom could shout ‘no’ the omega held up his hand. He'd have to teach the kid just so he was safe living around them. “I will. Although I'd suggest letting Dom teach you with his knives. It's better for protection. If people see a gun then they're more likely to pull one. Let's just worry about getting you through this and all the shit happening first, okay? We've got time.” The boy nodded and they ate their toast but eventually he had to get ready for work.

Dom followed him to the closet and they shared a long hug, both a bit overwhelmed at how well that actually went. Obviously it would get rough too but they'd take their wins where they could. As Kells pulled away he saw his lover fight a yawn, those jade eyes looked darker by the hour. “I think I can make it to work alone. You should stay. Make sure he's okay and fucking rest. Both of you.”

“You probably right. It's been a long few days. Jus' promise me you'll keep a bloody close eye and you'll stay safe. Can't lose yas, neiver of you.” It called back to the night after their last big fight when Colson admitted he couldn't stand to lose their child or Dom. It reassured the man and he gave his mate a smiling kiss.

“I was a badass before you. Remember?” He winked, letting his lover help him dress. He was too far along and it got uncomfortable plus Dom loved to be of use.

“Oh I know.” The Alpha huffed, spanking him gently and they both paused at the rush of slick that wet Col’s thighs.

“Weird. The kid's cycle is probably fucking with my hormones.” The omega blushed but he didn't know why his body was so fucking reactive.

He finished getting ready and added a pad just in case. He didn't need to soak through his pants. Eventually he made his way out with one last make out session at the elevator. It was strange making himself leave his Alpha. They rarely spent time apart. There was an ache in his stomach as the doors closed between them but he wouldn't pussy out. He had to work.

Dom sighed as he waved goodbye and the pit of nerves filled his stomach again. He hated that he had to lie to his mate and now he'd have to think up something to slip away from the boy. It hurt him that he needed to leave Blain alone but The Doctor was just a floor down. He needed to find Collette and figure out what was going on with her, he'd already used up so much of the day. He didn't pray but for once he asked the universe for help, after seeing how amazing a mother his omega was he knew while some of it came from inside, some was taught by the woman who gave birth to him. He didn't know what would happen if she was working against his partner but he was desperate for it not to be true. Either way he'd find out while his family was safe and he'd tell Kells everything that night. Right. He had work to do.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

This was a long chapter but I thought y'all deserved a little more smut and fluff before the end. It's about to get intense! I just love the way they're already making a sweet little family. I hope you're enjoying it! 🩸🖤

[swift-creates]

@chrumblr-whumblr day 5: forced to obey 

wc: 623 | warnings: threats of gun violence, hostage situation | characters: Rose Oleco (OC) (pov), Dick Grayson, unnamed gangster, Jason Todd (barely)

Rose belongs to my sister! as always if you want to know Moar about my silly things just ask please ask. PLEASE ask. THEY ARE SO CUTE HELP. 🥺

—

Rose stumbled as she landed, leaning on a nearby wall to regain her footing before looking around and behind for her boyfriend. “Nightwing?”  “I’m good. Just… go.” His voice was choked even over the comms, and she felt her chest clench in fear.  “What? Where are you?” 

“Right behind you, Shadow.” She whirled around, hands raised, to see one of the gangsters they’d defeated earlier gripping Dick by the shoulder, a gun to his head.  Rose tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Let him go.” “No. First, you’re gonna do something for me.” The guy shook him roughly, and she spotted the slightest twitch in Dick’s jaw as he shoved him back. “You’re gonna get over here and put these meta-cuffs on yourself, and then I’ll see about letting your little boytoy go.” “Many honourable men are little boytoys,” Dick sniffed, and Rose desperately wanted to grab him by the shoulders and say Not now, Richard. But she couldn’t, and prepared to form a portal under them instead-

“And before you think about making any of your sparkly black holes, just know that birdie here ain’t likely to survive a bullet to the brain. And you ain’t likely to be faster than one neither.” He pressed the pistol tighter to Dick’s head. “At least use proper English while threatening Nightwing,” Rose said through gritted teeth. “It’s either.” Dick raised an eyebrow slightly, and she returned an almost imperceptible shrug, trying to tamp down her bubbling panic. I don’t have a strategy for this, darling. Not like you would. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything, but every plan she came up ended in blood spatters and pain. 

“Get over here, girl.” The gangster scowled, shifted impatiently. His finger twitched on the trigger, and Rose flinched.  “All right, all right.” She stepped forward slowly, bent to pick up the cuffs and put them on, took another step closer. Tried to avoid Dick’s wide, panicked eyes. Sorry, Blue. 

One more step, and he was within reach. The barrel of the gun turned to point at her instead of him, and he turned to look at Rose in dismay. “It’s okay. Just return to base,” she tried to comfort him.  “Not without you.” He reached for his escrima, stopped short when the man snarled a warning.  “Easy now. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, now would we?” 

He was angry, she could tell that much. Angry at the guy for dangling their safety in front of each other like a carrot on a stick, and frustrated that she was now in the hands of a criminal, powers dampened and gun to her head. But he met her eyes and flicked his gaze quickly downwards and back, and she trusted him. 

Raising one boot, Rose stomped down hard on the guy’s foot, and he cursed, staggering to the side. She saw Dick tense as his gun hand quivered, then there was a loud BANG, and she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the guy was on the ground, Jason was standing over him with one pistol smoking, and Dick was running to pull her into his arms. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered.  “Are you?” she shot back, frantically looking him up and down for injuries. “How did he even catch you? For a second I thought…”  “I’m fine,” he reassured her as he unlocked the cuffs and let them drop. Then he pulled her in again and buried his face in her hair. “I’m just glad you are, too.” 

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, ignoring Jason’s exaggerated gagging, and pulled away to look him in the eye. “Let’s go home.”