#waiter waiter more graphic violence please!!!!!!

[katin-biscuit]

Upsets me sooo much when a movie has more sexual content than graphic violence. This is a HORROR MOVIE what do you think I came here to SEE

[jjunieboo]

The Lone Shadow

pairing: Bounty Hunter Yunho x Outlaw Seonghwa - (with a hint of woosan)

tag warnings: wild west au, smut, noncon, stalking, obsessed yh, dom yh, (bratty) sub hwa, gunplay, murder!, graphic violence, threats of violence, anal sex, degrading, coming inside, yunho is eeeeevil 😭, dead dove do not eat

summary: Seonghwa got himself in trouble with a bounty on his head. Unfortunately for him, the infamous Bounty Hunter has set his eyes on him, and no, it’s not for the gold reward.

disclaimer: This work does not represent any of the ATEEZ members in any way. This is purely created for fiction. Also, I do not condone to ANY of the actions displayed in this story. Please read at your own risk. MDNI!

wordcount: 6.6k

note: Idk about you guys but i still haven’t moved on from cowboy yh… & this fic is mostly improvised. Open for any thoughts & feedback! I want to become better at writing. Also, English is not my first language. Enjoy reading! 𐚁

(dedicated to mango, who also proofread this filth ♡︎.)

—

Seonghwa tore the wanted poster from the notice board. Not quite the nicest welcome upon entering the seemingly modest looking village he just sought refuge in. He gave the poster a final glance even though he already knew its details. A rough drawn sketch of him, with underneath bold letters announcing the high bounty on his head, including ‘dead or alive’. He adjusted the scarf covering his features, hoping to stay unrecognizable. Then, he mounted back on his brown-spotted horse in the hopes of finding a saloon still open at this late hour.

How he ended up wanted? Well, it was no surprise his so-called friends betrayed him and decided the gold was worth more than his companionship. But what he did not anticipate was the original ‘owner’ of the money to take it so personally. Going so far as wanting his head, with or without the rest of his body. Resulting in uncountable copies of his face being spread around towns on wanted posters.The worst part? He knew the bastard lacked the money to pay any bounty hunter for it. As it was in fact, stolen. Feeling exposed and shattered, Seonghwa was left with no choice but to escape town. Forced to flee and start life anew elsewhere. He never imagined his life turning to this. 

Honestly. it’s not like he enjoyed his bandit life. But poor life choices lead to desperate measures. At some point, stealing was the only option he had. It was pretty lame theft, wallets and jewelry from the upper class. Pick-pocketing is not something he was proud of doing, but it was easy money. Seonghwa preferred to work alone, naming himself ‘The Lone Shadow’, finding safety in solitude. His work was stealthy, avoiding any conflict as he was simply not good at it. Sure, he owned a gun, but that was only for emergencies. One day Seonghwa was approached by two bandits, offering him to join a side-hustle. Promising him a fair share. Seonghwa couldn’t resist his temptations, desperate for the coin. Deep down, he should have known better than to trust the two men. In the thievery world, their loyalty and promises were questionable. Since most bandits had simple intentions with their stolen money. Selfish desires like drugs, alcohol, gambling or sex. And of course that reflected in their personality. Just moments after the job, his ‘allies’ took the coin and ran off. They anonymously tipped off the authorities about Seonghwa’s appearance. Clearly in the hopes of keeping themselves out of trouble. So, now he was identified to the whole Wild West, leaving him without a single profit for it. 

Seonghwa took a sip from his refreshing drink, watching the waiter bring him his late dinner. He thankfully nodded. The Outlaw was cautious, continuously scanning his surroundings. He had yet to set up camp outside the village, but risked himself out here to enjoy the comfortable warmth of the saloon on this chilly late evening. Even though he had enough of his uncomfortable nights sleeping outside. The dangers were too high. So far, he managed to escape a few encounters. Luckily those occurred during busy daylight hours so it was easy to slip away. He had been on the run for a week or three, having traveled further up north to unexplored territories. Yet, every time he encountered a poster containing his face, he felt his stress levels rise. At times, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, sensing that he was being pursued, but never finding the source. So Seonghwa restlessly kept on relocating, not stopping until he had traveled far enough.

Seonghwa finished his lukewarm food. A meal that tasted heavily to him, for someone that was nearly starving that is. He pulled his red scarf back up and rested his tense shoulders against the chair. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Seonghwa’s eyes got lost staring at the candle on his wooden table. He wondered how much longer he could keep this up. He knew he messed up bigtime, and running away from problems never worked in his favor. But what choice did he have?

A sudden gust of wind blew into the saloon, nearly blowing out the candle. The heavy sound of boots followed, killing the peaceful silence. Seonghwa lifted his gaze cautiously, to not seem too alarmed , avoiding suspicion. A tall figure, dressed in a long black coat walked in. His cowboy hat covering his facial features. He headed straight to the bar. Seonghwa lowered his own stampede hat, sinking in his chair deeper. “Sir, we’re about to clos-” the bartender swallowed back his words upon apparently recognizing who was standing in front of him. The stranger didn’t respond and simply sat down. The bartender fetched him a drink right away. With the new heavy tension in the air, Seonghwa felt like this was bad news and his instinct told him he should leave.

Checking his pocket, he only found a few coins, and placed the amount on the table as payment for his meal, even leaving a small tip. But in a cruel twist of fate, one slid off and clattered loudly to the floor, rolling in the direction of the mysterious individual. As Seonghwa bent down, attempting to grab it, he uncontrollably glanced at his direction. The intimidating stranger had his head partially turned towards him, Seonghwa’s eyes meeting a cold, unyielding look in return. And then he knew. he knew he was in real trouble once the infamous ruthless bounty hunter was after him. 

Panic seared through him. He had heard the stories of this bounty hunter’s reputation. The living Grim Reaper. Known for his merciless tactics and usually going for the ‘dead’ in ‘dead or alive’. He was no hero to anyone, that much Seonghwa knew. He was convinced he usually chased the real bandits from gangs, not some average lone thief. But then he remembered the reward on his head.

Shit shit shit. Forget the coin, he had to leave. Right. Now. he hurried outside, untangling the rope attached to the hitch. Attempting to free his horse who was blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in the saloon. Inside, the hunter chugged his drink in one go and hit the glass back on the bar. All while Seonghwa stressfully fiddled with the knot he made in this cursed rope, his fingers trembling. When he finally got it undone the bat-winged doors to the saloon were pushed open. The hunter stepped outside, a ominous aura hanging around him. All Seonghwa could see was the silhouette of his figure, perhaps even the smallest glint of teeth displaying a smile on his face. Seonghwa wasted no more time and mounted his horse, who stamped nervously. He tugged the reins, kicked her sides and dashed off blindly into the night.

He raced as fast as his horse could let him and entered the darkness of the desert, leaving the town behind him. Wind whipping through his black hair as his own hat nearly flew off. Hooves pounded loudly on the gravel as the moon shone bright, the only source of light.

Behind him, he could sense the hunter closing in, locking his focus on Seonghwa. How was he this fast? Seems his little head start only lasted that long. 

Seonghwa’s heart raced with adrenaline. All while his only safety out of here started to pant louder by the minute, reaching her limit. He urged his steed to go faster. “Please, please!” he pleaded in desperation. Just further up ahead laid the woods, feeling confident in his skills to lose the hunter there, he only had to reach them. He had to. 

He could sense the hunter getting closer and closer, and for the second time he dared to peek behind him. Fuck, there was only around forty feet distance between he two. Watching him terrified, the hunter moved his hand to his side, reaching for an object attached to his hip. Intending on ending this chase.

Panic set in Seonghwa as he faced forward again. “Faster!” he cried, kicking his heels against his horse’s sides, feeling her pants turning more frantic. He tried to reach for his pistol in his pocket but struggled to do so due to the bumpy movement, it nearly slipped out of his hands. The gap between the two of them kept closing in. The forest was so near. His only hope of finding an advantage in this scenario. Just a bit further. He could outsmart the hunter there, he trained his horse well to handle difficult terrain. The trees could give him cover from any bullets.

Suddenly, Seonghwa felt himself get violently snatched off his horse .The hunter had aimed his lasso perfectly to capture his target. With a quick snap, air was knocked out of Seonghwa’s lungs. He hit the ground hard, hat flying off, his body spinning until he came to a halt. Dazed, he groaned before his chaser stopped and dismounted his horse in front of him. A set of heavy boots covering Seonghwa’s view. He instantly tried to get up in the hopes of finding his own horse to get away as quickly as possible. Adrenaline blocked out any pain he was feeling from his fall. But he couldn’t move his arms, as they were tightly constricted to his sides with the lasso. He stumbled pathetically, face front on the gravel. Seonghwa tried to look up, seeing his captor looking down at him. He could vaguely see the sinister grin appear on his face again. An uneasy feeling bubbled up in Seonghwa’s stomach. The bounty hunter bent forward, a scent of leather and gunpowder enveloping him as he tugged the lasso hard, rising Seonghwa from the ground to get closer into his face. He was met with hooded eyes, darker than the night itself. “Got you” he spoke for the first time, in a low, seductive voice. The hunt was over.

Seonghwa felt exposed, eyed by him in his now bound body. The hunter’s gloved hand slowly made his way to his torso. Seonghwa flinched, trying to pull back but he held him tightly in place. The hunter chuckled before taking out Seonghwa’s gun from his jacket, placing it in one of his own empty holsters. Hiding it behind his long fringed coat.

The moonlight caught glimpses of his sharp jawline and the edge of his lips that curved into a smirk. Seonghwa never wanted to live so badly now that he realized he was stripped from freedom. Not like he had a pleasant life to begin with, but it was still better than being behind bars, or worse, dead by the hands of this bounty hunter. He glanced up to the man in front of him who towered over him completely, seeming to drink in this sight of him, his victory.

“That was unnecessary. Could have just asked me to stop, you know?” Seonghwa attempted to humor him. Maybe if he complied he could find an opening to escape. “A little mercy, perhaps?” Seonghwa eyed the lasso in Yunho’s hands. Possibly befriending and not angering the man that held him captive was his only chance of survival. The bounty hunter let out a chuckle in return.

“Oh Lone Shadow, I don’t do mercy.” His eyes pierced right into his soul upon saying those words. “Or should I say.. Seonghwa’’ when his real name escaped his lips, Seonghwa felt like he wanted to sink through the ground. His captor grinned, seeming pleased with his reaction.

“How do you know my-?” He suddenly tugged Seonghwa back up to his feet, causing him to nearly stumble into his chest. Seonghwa could sense he reveled in his discomfort. This guy was a freak, that much he could tell. What else did he know about his life? With a sudden move, he pulled down Seonghwa’s scarf. The hunter seemed to marvel with delight. Seonghwa swallowed hard, trying to read him through his calm demeanor. He squirmed in the tightly secured rope, the cruel reminder of this reality. God how he wished he left the saloon just a bit earlier to have avoided all of this.

“My name is Yunho” the hunter shared. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and nearly scoffed. “Didn’t ask but nice to meet you!” He spat back sarcastically. So much for staying on friendly terms with him. 

“Since we are on a first name basis now. Perhaps you're willing to take me out of these ropes so we can have a conversation like normal people?”

Seonghwa could see Yunho twitch his eye, resulting in Seonghwa quickly moving on to his next technique of talking himself out of possible death. He discarded his sarcastic tone to replace it with a serious one.

“I promise you, I’m worth more alive than dead” which was, according to the posters, not true. Yunho turned around, whistled loudly to fetch Seonghwa’s horse, who had seemed to graze on some grass not far away.

“Let’s see if you can live up to that promise then.” Yunho answered, grin widening, sending chills through Seonghwa as he now forced this challenge upon him. 

- One week ago -

For Yunho, it was child’s play to track his new target. The outlaw seemed confident to hide in plain sight, thinking he was safe by simply wearing his scarf as a mask. His poor choice of surviving skills was proof enough for Yunho to conclude he was practically harmless. If he wanted, he could have ended his life with numerous opportunities. So, it was clear that something didn’t add up with the bounty on his head. Yunho has had more than enough experience with bandits to know the difference, sending plenty to their demise. The Lone Shadow was cautious, but simply bad at checking up on his surroundings. The outlaw’s behavior clearly did not match that of an experienced bandit. 

Observing him from a distance, following his routine, The Lone Shadow’s frustrated exhales upon finding yet another poster brought a smile to Yunho. The way his target would walk away defeated. It didn’t take long to figure out he was just a fragile thing. Maybe framed, was Yunho’s guess. His interest grew. He started following him around, town by town. During one night of patrolling the outlaw in his tent, Yunho noticed a fellow co-hunter sneaking out the bushes. He couldn’t have that, his target needed his sleep after all. The fellow hunter seemed convinced at his job. That was until Yunho appeared behind them, ending their life with practiced ease, a swift slice of his knife at their neck. They didn’t even see him coming. Probably too money hungry their guard was dropped, and their life for the taking. Sloppy.

He made sure to clean the mess, of course, he wouldn’t want to surprise the fugitive with a dead body right outside his tent next morning. But the thought of him witnessing the startled look on the outlaw’s face had tempted Yunho. Perhaps as a warning sign for him to be more careful. Though he discarded it, not wanting to create panic just yet. He couldn’t have him start acting reckless. Prolonging his ‘hunt’.

Yunho wondered how long he would keep this up before revealing himself. His mind racing with possibilities. He was so ripe for the taking. Watching the Lone Shadow struggle to get through the days entertained him, he wanted to get closer to the one who has captivated his attention. He craved to know everything about him. What put him in this situation, or who? Who was hiding behind the name Lone Shadow? Questions were piling up and he needed answers. Curiosity grew, and once his outlaw made it to a rather safe village. Yunho believed the Lone Shadow to at least stay alive for a few days without him needing to take care of his surroundings. And so far, he kept going in a straight line up north, exactly where Yunho wanted him to go. Plus, he was certain of tracking him back easily.

He took this opportunity to finally find some answers to his burning questions. Soon, Yunho promised himself, very soon, he would come for him. His heart raced at the thought as he set his plans in motion.

—

Seonghwa’s body felt sore from draping over Yunho’s horse, facing the gravel. He had no idea how long he had been in this position, still secured tight to Yunho’s rope attached to his belt. So bailing was not an option. Seonghwa’s boots were dangling in the air and he arched his back to look up, catching a glimpse of his own horse gently trailing behind, also tied to Yunho’s horse. Poor thing, he grew attached to her. His hunter would probably sell her. His eyes shifted to Yunho’s back, who was calmly riding his horse. He had been quiet since their trip to God knows where. If only his hands were free, Seonghwa might have been able to snatch a weapon from his satchel. To his knowledge, most hunters carried a few.

Just as Seonghwa was about to break the silence, Yunho suddenly stopped his tracks. “We’re here”. He dismounted his horse and pulled Seonghwa off as well. Making him stand on his feet again. His legs felt numb and he was slightly dizzy from hanging upside down for so long. As he steadied himself, Seonghwa took in the sight of a simple cabin in front of him. Nestled among towering trees, isolated and far from any traces of civilization.

Yunho brought the horses to the stalls. Seonghwa was forced to follow, dragged along by the rope that still linked him to Yunho’s belt. Everything about this felt so uncomfortable. “Why not just take me in like any other bounty hunter?” he asked bluntly as Yunho was securing the horses inside. Seonghwa tried to mask the fear bubbling inside him with a facade of defiance. He didn’t understand why Yunho hadn’t taken out his pistol yet, why he wasn’t rushing to collect his reward. Why was he still alive? This was supposed to be one of the most dangerous bounty hunters and now he was doing errands with him? Yunho walked back to the front door, Seonghwa right behind.

“At this hour?” he finally answered, as if not taking him seriously at all. He shoved a key inside the keyhole and unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a dark unlit interior. Yunho stepped in, Seonghwa initially remained at the door frame, but was pulled along inside. 

Yunho hit the lightswitch and unpacked some gear he had on him, placing them on the table. He took off his hat, revealing his dark brown hair. Then his hand found the silver pistol he took from Seonghwa and took it out of his holster. He inspected it up closely, admiring the subtle decorations. Floral carvings and Seonghwa’s initials. “What’s it’s story?” Yunho then asked, seeming genuinely interested. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, confused by his change of persona. “Custom made, back when I still had a life” he answered nonchalantly. He never used the gun before, but Yunho didn’t need to know that. 

“You take good care of it. It’s in a good state” Yunho added. Seonghwa felt the urge to roll his eyes. Like what, was he supposed to thank him? What was this weird attempt of small talk? But yes, he was going to miss his gun that was now in his captor’s hands.

“Come with me” Yunho tugged him back outside. As if Seonghwa even had a choice. He was dragging him like a dog on a leash to the backyard. Seonghwa had a bad feeling about this. Yunho stopped in front of a root cellar and unlocked the door, revealing a wooden staircase leading down. It was pitch black, like a void. Yeah, hell no. Seonghwa held a firm stance. If he gets murdered after all, preferably not in a creepy cellar. But what could he do against the man in front of him? His arms were still tight around the lasso, he had no weapon on him, and had no idea where he was. Yunho turned on the lightswitch, bright light flickering down in the basement. Seonghwa swore he could hear a noise coming from down there, something like a gasp. He held people there? Panic set back into Seonghwa as he was now pulling away from the entrance. Yunho didn’t even glance back at him and tugged him back. “Don’t be difficult," he warned, the same low tone he used when he had just taken his freedom a few hours ago.

Seonghwa nervously gulped as he was faced with two figures. They both lay on the ground, shivering from the cold, clothes covered in dry blood. And both of them were blindfolded with a brown simple sack over their heads. Their wrists and ankles were tightly bound. One of them was whimpering. “On your knees, both of you,” Yunho's hard voice echoed in the cellar and proceeded to stride towards them. The two men did as ordered, one of them grunted, seeming, irritated? Yunho put his attention back to Seonghwa, who tried to process what was happening in front of him. “See this as a little present” with that he pulled off both sacks simultaneously, revealing the two bandits that ruined Seonghwa’s life. His mouth fell wide open, and so did theirs. 

“San? Wooyoung?” Seonghwa was shocked with disbelief. Both of them looked terrible. San had a split lip and it seemed his nose had been bleeding, possibly broken. Wooyoung had a black eye. A nervous smile appeared on Wooyoung’s face. ‘H-hey hey! Lone Shadow!’ he forced his laugh. ‘Good to see y-!’ Yunho’s strong hand gave his head a shove forward, urging him to shut up. A signal well understood by Wooyoung.  Yunho returned back to Seonghwa and slowly started untying him. The outlaw tried to process what was going on, Yunho carelessly continued as if this was a normal day at his job. “They were a pain in the ass to drag here, but I thought it would be fair for you to seal their fate.”

As the rope fell to the floor with a dull thud, Seonghwa could finally feel his tense limbs again. His arms, once restrained but now freed. The moment of relief was short lived. He felt the weight of a gun being pressed firmly into his palm. Yunho had placed it there, his grip strong. His gloved hand covered Seonghwa’s hand completely as he moved the firearm in the direction of the two men on their knees. Seonghwa’s heart raced as he tried to grasp the gravity of the situation he was put in. Yunho leaned forward, whispering in his ear, his breath hot. “Go on then” his hand left his as he took a deliberate step backwards.

Seonghwa hated both of them. They ruined his life! San looked at him, split lip pouting with mercy, sniffing and sobbing. Wooyoung was quiet for once. The same Wooyoung, who was usually filled with arrogance, now stared at Seonghwa, as if daring him to act. Seonghwa’s gun kept switching between the two now powerless men. He felt angry, but why was his arm trembling? Killing them wasn’t going to fix the bounty on his head. Not that that even mattered now that he was captured anyway. But why would Yunho give him this opportunity? How did he know this duo? 

“C'mon then!" Wooyoung suddenly shouted angrily, as if he already accepted death. “Rather you than that fucking psycho.” Seonghwa flinched at his sudden outburst. San just started wailing louder. “Do it. Can’t listen to this guy’s ugly sobbing anymore” Wooyoung nudged his head to his partner in crime. San continued pleading, as he began stammering. "We’re sorry- I’m sorry!" followed by a list of excuses, each one more pitiful than the last.

Seonghwa felt trickles of sweat forming on his brow. Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t he pull the trigger? Damn it! He didn’t want to become a murderer, he swore to only do it in self-defense and right now the only danger is the man behind him. Surviving means his captor had to die, that much was clear. Well, this might be his only chance now, he had to take it. Seonghwa gulped and just as he intended to turn his gun to Yunho, he suddenly snapped it out of his hands.

“Can’t do it, huh?” he taunted, his voice sickly sweet. Without another word, he determinedly made his way towards Wooyoung, jammed the pistol inside his mouth and pulled the trigger. Pulled it out from what was remaining of his head, moved to San and proceeded to do the same. Two loud bangs, bodies fell, blood sprayed the walls in a dark red, and then silence.

Seonghwa stood frozen in shock, heart pounding against his ribs. “Finally, quiet” Yunho wiped the pistol clean against one of the sacks on the floor. The gun was clean, but his outfit and face were covered in blood spats. Then he looked back at Seonghwa, with a wide eerie smile that sent him shivers. “Like I thought, you don’t have the guts, but that’s what makes you entertaining.”

Seonghwa glanced back at the lifeless bodies, the floor slowly turning crimson red. He had no words for the horror that just unfolded. Yunho casually placed the gun back in its holster as if it was nothing. Clearly having done these gruesome acts plenty of times. “This kind of treachery deserves to be dealt with, don’t you think?” the sadistic smile not leaving him. 

“You’re mad,” Seonghwa spat out before thinking about the possible consequences. “Oh honey, but this is all for you," he purred, slowly making his way over to Seonghwa as he removed his bloodied glove, gently brushing Seonghwa’s sleek hair aside to caress his cheek. His hand felt warm, it felt out of place given the situation. Seonghwa flinched at his touch, causing Yunho to chuckle softly. “Sensitive..” Seonghwa backed away slowly, looking at him with disgust. He knew he was a cold hearted murderer, but seeing him actually perform the cruel act in person made Seonghwa want to vomit. However, now that he was free from his lasso, he felt the tiniest flicker of hope. Yunho’s hand was left in the air, watching him intently, curious to see how he would react.

“Look, I appreciate the.. effort..” Seonghwa spoke, refusing to look back at his fellow, now dead bandits. “You can keep the gun, it’s real silver. Just let me go, ok?” Yunho’s smile disappeared. Seonghwa didn’t know which side of him was scarier. “Believe me, leave, and you’ll be dead by tomorrow," he warned. As if, Seonghwa thought. Yunho felt irritated, both at Seonghwa’s stupidness and the fact he was being unthankful.

Ignoring his warning, Seonghwa sprinted upstairs to the door that led outside. He didn’t know how he got this cocky, maybe it was the belief of Yunho keeping him alive for some fucked up reason that gave him this sense of confidence. He’ll get his horse and will travel even further, as long as he’s away from this place. Away from this maniac.

Just when he grabbed for the doorknob, a sudden force shoved him hard against the door, pinning him between the solid wood and his body. Seonghwa's cheek squished painfully against the surface. “You're so ungrateful, you know that?” Yunho's voice was low, a mix of anger and something darker. He pressed his big hand down on Seonghwa’s head with such force he grew fear of breaking his skull. It shut him up momentarily. “You’d be dead already if it weren't for me.” Yunho didn’t anticipate Seonghwa to show him this side of brattiness, but sure, if needed, he can force, or better put, fuck that out of him. 

“What did you expect?” Seonghwa suddenly felt a rage overcome him. ‘That I would go on my knees and thank you? I never asked for your help!”. Yunho tightened his grip, yanking his head away from the door only to smash it right back, causing Seonghwa to let out a painful scream. His head throbbing with pain. “You’ve got an awfully bad mouth for someone who doesn't even have the guts to fire a gun” Yunho hissed and pulled him back by his hair, breathing on his neck. Seonghwa tried to brace himself for another hit. “Time to teach you some manners.” With a swift kick, he flung the door open and dragged Seonghwa back to the cabin, his hand entangled in his hair. He struggled and scratched at Yunho’s strong arm. Feeling like a kitten grabbed by their neck, aimlessly trying to free themselves. Back inside Seonghwa was hurled to the hard floor. He scrambled to rise until a heavy boot clashed on his chest, pinning him back to the ground with brutal force. Seonghwa wheezed out, but continued thrashing around, trying to pry his boot off of him.

“Get off!” his voice cracking. Yunho kept him in place, looming over him, putting more pressure upon him instead as he placed both hands on each of his pistol holsters. That of his own, and his new gift from his outlaw. With a swift, fluid movement, he drew both out, aiming them at Seonghwa, who’s eyes widened in fear as he stopped.

“Which one to have fun with…” Yunho mused to himself, admiring his guns and pretended to be ignoring Seonghwa’s presence. He moved his boot lower, applying pressure on his groin. Seonghwa gasped at the sudden unwanted feeling. The heel of Yunho’s boot painfully crushed him, a throbbing ache swelling up in his balls. Seonghwa held his breath, holding back tears from the intense torment. He refused to give Yunho the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Yunho took a final glance at both weapons. A choice made easily, as he kept the sleek silver gun, tucking the other one back.

He directed it back at Seonghwa. “Take off your clothes” he demanded. Seonghwa’s heart sank at those words as Yunho lifted his foot, a cruel invitation for him to comply. “Y-you can’t be serious.” Seonghwa stuttered as he tried to crawl backwards on his elbows, away from him. “Hm?” Yunho taunted, he smiled maliciously as he hovered above him, locking his outlaw’s torso between his legs. He leaned down, tapping the gun against Seonghwa’s firmly closed lips. 

“Is this not serious to you? Do you enjoy complicating your own fate?” he mocked, as he forced the tip of the gun inside his mouth before he could talk back again. Seonghwa was overwhelmed with the sudden intrusion as he tasted the cold steel of his own gun. Yunho pressed the barrel deeper, past his teeth, a choking gag escaping Seonghwa. “Do you like it? The thought of me ending your pathetic life with just a flick of my finger?” Seonghwa's memory was flashed with the images of San and Wooyoung's final moments as Yunho replicated the scene.

He felt his stomach twist, not sure if it was from Yunho’s degrading words, the boot from just now or the gun down his throat. Yunho eyes gleamed with delight, seeing enough proof in Seonghwa’s terrified yet defiant look to conclude he was made for him. He slowly pulled the gun out of his mouth, coated in his saliva. “You ugly thing, guess you really need help with everything.” In a flash, Yunho pulled him up by his collar and dragged him to the table, several tools of his equipment falling from it. Seonghwa held onto the table edges in protest, but Yunho easily overpowered him and forced him on his back. He roughly unbuckled Seonghwa’s belt. “Don’t!” he yelled. The outlaw panicky tried to block his hands, resulting in a hard slap against his cheek. Stunning him momentarily at the burning sensation. Yunho took this chance and pulled down his jeans, welcoming the erection that was hiding under Seonghwa’s underwear. Shame fell over Seonghwa upon Yunho finding out. His cheeks flushing as he didn’t know where to look. Heavily embarrassed by the fact that Yunho was responsible for his hardon. But Yunho drank in the sight with delight. He discarded Seonghwa from his boots and remaining clothes, then grabbed his chin firmly, forcing his eyes on his. “So you were turned on by it.” Yunho lifted his legs over his own shoulders, giving him a good view.

Before Seonghwa could react, Yunho pressed the head of the gun against his hole. He felt his muscles twitch involuntarily. Seonghwa sputtered in terror. “W-wait hold up!”. Slowly, Yunho applied pressure, allowing the tip of the pistol to slip inside. “It’s so tight” Yunho spoke with sick interest. Seonghwa let out a loud gasp, clenching his hole around the barrel as it invaded his private part. He tugged at Yunho’s arm, nails digging in his skin. The bounty hunter didn’t even flinch at it. 

Seonghwa’s complete body tensed up. This can’t actually be happening. His breathing intensified, bringing him to a near hyperventilating state. “If you don’t loosen up now, it’s not going to get any easier for you soon” Yunho teased, another side of him Seonghwa was now introduced to. How was he supposed to relax in his situation? Especially with that new information? He knew the sick fuck did it on purpose, he wanted him to hurt. Got off of it. Yunho pushed it deeper inside, Seonghwa pulled his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “How cute, and it’s not even halfway in” he spoke low. “F-fuck you” Seonghwa managed to get out. It only spurred Yunho on more.

He used his fingers to spread his rim further open, pushing the barrel to a deeper point. Inch by agonizing inch. Seonghwa tried to keep quiet, but still let out a small moan with his lips pursed. Something Yunho saw as a challenge. He moved the pistol out, leaving his hole empty for a second only before violently pushing it all the way back in. Seonghwa’s cock twitched at the impact. A grin returned to Yunho as he leaned forward, invading Seonghwa’s personal space some more. “Look at you” he gave his cock a sloppy slap before giving it a few pumps. His own pants tighten upon hearing Seonghwa’s pathetic held back moans. Yunho wanted to break that spirit, hear his cute little gasps more. Seonghwa felt the gun leaving his body as Yunho tossed it aside without a care. 

The bounty hunter unbuckled his own belt and pulled down his pants and underwear in a swift movement. His long, big, erect member springing free. Greeting Seonghwa with need. Precum dripping from the tip. Seonghwa's survival-mode activated as he jerked up and tried to thrash himself away from Yunho. To his surprise, he let go of Seonghwa which he did not anticipate causing him to fall from the table with a loud thud. Seonghwa's eyes met with his used gun, laying a few feet away from him. He jumped towards it, grabbed it, turned around and aimed at Yunho. This time, he wasted no time to pull the trigger. Ready to save himself out of this mystery he was put in.

Only for nothing to happen. Just the sound click of an empty barrel. Seonghwa tried again, but to no avail. “Fuck!” The guy had unloaded it when he didn’t notice!  A loud laugh filled the room and Seonghwa swallowed hard. “So you’d try and kill your savior? The one who has been watching your back for the past weeks? But not the ones who put you there in the first place?” There was a shift in Yunho’s expression. He made him.. angry. He made the relentless bounty hunter angry. No, not annoyed, not pissed. Angry. “Oh, you’re going to wish you were dead," Yunho's veiny arm lunged forward to Seonghwa’s neck, dragging him to the carpet a few feet away from them.

Once dropped, Seonghwa tried to crawl away on all fours but was grabbed by his waist in an iron grip and pulled back. “No, wait!” Yunho aligned himself, not wasting any second and forced his cock into Seonghwa's quivering hole. His size going lengths the pistol could never reach. He savored the feeling of Seonghwa’s tight hole stretching out to adjust to him. Seonghwa screamed, his body shivering uncontrollably. It was music to Yunho’s ears. Seonghwa choked back tears. It felt like he was being split open. It hurt, it hurt so bad.

“You do realize you're nothing without me?” Yunho leaned over, covering Seonghwa’s body beneath him to whisper in his ear, his tone emotionless. “Actually, it’s no wonder you're wanted dead. You’re a fucking piece of shit” he spat. Just when things couldn’t get worse, Yunho began pumping in and out of him. Revlishing in his agony. Seonghwa could no longer hold back his moans and cries against Yunho’s hard, rough thrusts. 

“S-stop, enough. 'P-please." Yunho slapped his asscheek hard. Once, twice. The pain was unbearable. Yunho moved his hands from Seonghwa’s sides to his neck, fingers tightening around it to pull him closer to him, arching his back as he increased his speed. “Aww, begging now are we? You sound pathetic’’ Yunho spoke through his pants, driven by his lust for Seonghwa. He finally had him falling apart. The lewd slapping noises filled the room. Seonghwa whimpered as he tried to control his very limited breathing ability, tears streaming down his face. He tried to disconnect himself from the assault. Resisting the underlying pleasure Yunho forced upon him.

Yunho moved his hands from his neck to his mouth, covering it as he bended him even closer to him, reaching even deeper inside him. Seonghwa’s spent cock spasmed at it. It felt like he was losing his mind.

He used his remaining strength to try and pull off Yunho’s hands clasped over his mouth. Yunho abruptly withdrew his throbbing cock, watching Seonghwa squirm below him. Oh? So he still had fight left in him. Yunho was far from done with him as this only fueled his desire. He wanted to fuck him until he stopped resisting. He sank his cock back in, doubling his effort. His outlaw continued his now muffled cries. Who had a false hope of thinking his torture was over. How wrong he was. “God, I could just snap your neck now.” Seonghwa instantly climaxed upon hearing his gruesome words, his untouched hard cock spurting his seed on the carpet. Feeling betrayed by his own body. Yunho however, simply let out a laugh and continued following his own high, pounding relentlessly. It was overwhelming to Seonghwa, the humiliation, the threats, the fear, the pain.

Yunho’s own release was near, especially after witnessing Seonghwa’s pitiful display. “Take this.” Only a few more thrusts were needed to send him over the edge as he brutally slammed deep inside him. His fat cock spilling his cum far up his hole. Yunho shot his head backwards, moaning deeply in pleasure as he remained seated within him. Releasing all he has to give. He let go of Seonghwa’s mouth, whose head fell forward in defeat.

Then Yunho finally pulled out, dropping Seonghwa’s now limb body to the carpet, stroking his own slick cock a few more times. He watched as his cum seeped out of Seongha’s hole. The one he abused with sick fascination. It leaking down his spread legs, his pride broken. 

“Why?” Seonghwa asked, voice hoarse from screaming. Yunho leaned over, pulling away a strand of Seonghwa's sweaty hair locks. Then he moved it back to his wet cheek, stroking it almost delicately. Seonghwa panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“Why, you ask?" Yunho answered. “Shouldn’t petty thieves pay for their crimes?” He rose up, looking down at him.

“Know this, Seonghwa.” Seonghwa felt another wave of unwelcome arousal rush through him at the sound of his name. “I’m far from done with you” promising him a life he couldn’t imagine getting worse than it already was.

_

[homosexuhauls]

I haven't seen anyone mention it on here, most likely because English language news sources are reporting them as friends, but a man murdered a lesbian couple in Hong Kong last week.

(Twitter thread includes more sources and proof of the two victims being in a relationship. However, video of the attack exists online and some of the photos in Chinese news articles are graphic/disturbing. Please proceed with caution.)

Fang Xiaotong (26 years old) and Liu Jixi (22 years old) were stabbed to death by a 39 year old man in a targeted attack in a shopping mall. Allegedly, he purchased the knife only after seeing the visibly gay couple, then attacked Fang Xiaotong, who was a Tom, which has a similar meaning to a butch or stud or masc lesbian. Liu Jixi attempted to intervene to save her girlfriend, but the perpetrator stabbed her also. Bystanders and mall security did not intervene, although eventually chefs who worked at the mall heard screams and armed themselves with stools before attempting to stop the attacker. The perpetrator then waited calmly for the police, and both women were pronounced dead at the hospital. While Western sources are painting this as a result of mental illness, the video and local news stories make it clear that this was likely a hate crime.

(Nb. I've also seen their names given as Fong Hiu-tung and Lau Kai-hei, and also that they may have used the nicknames "Daniel" and "Amber". I can't know which names they would have preferred to be used, hence why I'm including all of them here but using Fang Xiaotong and Liu Jixi throughout the post for consistency and clarity.)

From Naomi Wu, whose twitter thread I've linked above, an explanation of the sometimes deadly hostilities Toms and other lesbians face in China and Hong Kong:

When men attack Toms (butches), they think a lot of things- sometimes in Chinese we say "one lesbian steals two men's wives"- herself and her partner. And for bitter middle-aged, unmarried men like this attacker, they've been told their whole life they are owed a wife to wait on them hand and foot- and they feel robbed and wronged by a young handsome Tom taking what's "theirs". They are angry, entitled, jealous- they want to teach her a lesson. They want to punish her for having what is rightfully theirs when they don't. Then it's "Oh, if you want to act like a man, I'll treat you like one". Most need to justify it to themselves to get started. Of course, the femme/Dee/P is always next, because we will fight to save our Tom, and once we do, they can justify turning their violence on us next. In their twisted head, they decide their unprovoked attack was "fighting 1-on-1" and it's our fault for getting involved. All Toms know the deal, they cannot win, all Toms tell their girls again and again "if something happens, just run, I can take it". When the time comes, all Toms try to buy their girl time to get away- even as they go down under fists and boots...or knives They want to buy us time, but no femmes can bear to leave them, so it never works. But they always go for our Toms first, then us. Every time.

Fang Xiaotong was a waiter in a high-end restaurant. She loved small animals and children and had lived with her mother and step-sister prior to moving in with Liu Jixi one to two months before the attack. Liu Jixi was a hair stylist and also worked part-time at a bar, which is apparently where she and Fang Xiaotong met. On the day of the attack, both women were planning to meet up with Fang Xiaotong's family to celebrate her grandfather's birthday.

Rest in peace 🫶 your courage will not be forgotten.

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| It's a small world : X |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

« - Mister Park. »  

A week had passed since Jimin and Yoongi had last crossed paths, and the final exams of the first term had just ended, leaving Jimin with the winter school vacations, delighted to have two long weeks of peace before having to resume training for the final exam in just three months' time now. So he doesn't hide his surprise when he sees Yoongi appear in front of him, even though he hadn't called him back since he slammed the door in his face, and with a little nod he lets his classmates disappear, leaving him alone with Min Yoongi, waiting to find out what he wants. 

« - Let's talk. 

- I haven't got time, I've got to go somewhere. 

- It wasn't a question. » 

Jimin feels trapped, biting his lower lip before simply agreeing to follow him, getting into Yoongi's car to let him lead them to a small coffee somewhere in town. The student is reassured not to find himself alone in a house with the Min, unable to say whether he'd come after him or not.  The silence remains heavy as they each order a hot drink. Jimin was tense, playing with the teaspoon in front of him, while Yoongi seemed rather calm, but only on the outside. Inside him, it was a real hurricane, not knowing what to say or how to put it on the table without Jimin taking him completely for a fool. 

« - I'm not cheating on you. Despite what you saw two weeks ago. 

- There's no real cheating, if there's no real couple, Yoongi. 

He can feel the pain in Yoongi's eyes, as he blows out a breath and runs a hand through his now bright red hair. 

- If there's no couple for you Jimin, then why are you taking it so hard? 

- I've got principles Yoongi. I don't want to become a trophy against a wall. Or just to be toyed with. 

- I'm not playing with you. 

- But you play with others, don't you? » 

Silence falls again, the waiter bringing coffee for Yoongi and hot chocolate for Jimin, wanting something sweet to help his conversation. Silence falls again, the kind of heavy, throat-grabbing silence that makes you uncomfortable and hurts. Everyone looks at each other, and for a full minute Jimin just hesitates to cut short the conversation, wanting to leave, and go crying back to his bed. 

« - I don't play with people. They're just pseudonyms. That's all. 

- Aliases? 

- Yes. You have to trust me. » 

Yoongi's beaten-cat stare made him hesitate even more, and Jimin ended up simply nodding, proving that he was willing to try and trust him. At last, the unbearable tension between them broke, and they resumed their usual nonchalance, and the little moments together that Jimin had really missed. However, the man became more serious again, crossing their fingers together, before resuming the conversation. 

« - I don't want to be just a piece of meat. I want to be something for you. 

- What more do you need? 

- Outings, something other than just sex. Conversation. You never tell me about your work. I want us to be a normal couple. Not friends with benefits. » 

Yoongi seemed to be thinking, before simply nodding, playing with Jimin's fingers as if trying to reassure himself that he was in front of him. He ends up smiling at him, taking his second hand between his fingers before kissing it tenderly. 

« - All right. I'll go out of my way to make you understand that... Something's been building in me since the day we met. 

- Oh, are you saying that you've fallen in love with me? 

- Maybe I am saying that. Would it be mutual? 

- Maybe. » 

A small smile passes Jimin's lips, coming to embrace him tenderly, as Yoongi responds with tenderness, happy to have finally settled whatever relationship problem they may have had until now, even if he can't help feeling deep down that Yoongi is hiding something from him. 

                                                             -x-

It's pretty early in the morning when Taehyung rolls into Jungkook's big bed, wondering when was the last time he'd had such a good night's sleep. He doesn't feel like getting up, just rolling around in the younger man's really comfortable sheets, looking around at the furniture, wondering where his boyfriend could be, when the bathroom door opens on a Jungkook wearing only a towel around his waist. 

« - Wake up, Doctor Kim? 

- Come join me in bed. I'm not on call today. 

- What if I have to work? 

- Then don't come, and go work. » 

Taehyung smiles as Jungkook joins him in bed, kissing him full on the lips, caressing his sides and torso, spreading his legs to come between, listening to him moan as he can feel that Taehyung is well and truly awake. Their exchange lasts, as Taehyung removes Jungkook's towel so that they're both naked in bed. They warm up, kissing hotter and hotter, Jungkook going into hot kisses, before feeling the warm lips on his straining length, making him lose himself directly in the pleasure his boyfriend can offer him. His fingers lose themselves in the brown locks, before a sound of frustration passes the doctor's lips, when Jungkook doesn't give him time to break his tension, looking at him with an animal air, as if Taehyung were a creature he could devour. After several hot kissing sessions, Jungkook leans over to kiss Taehyung's ear, whispering into it. 

« - Turn around, and let it happen to you. 

- Don't you have work to do? 

- It can wait. » 

He didn't wait for Jungkook to ask him this a second time, before turning around, letting Jungkook press his hands against his bouncing buttocks, grabbing Taehyung's arms, to keep him from moving, tying him up with a tie lying on the side of the bed. The doctor smiles before moaning as he feels Jungkook's taut rod take possession of him. It's not wild as usual, but gentle, making Taehyung get louder and louder, as Taehyung grips the bed rails, letting himself be completely dominated by Jungkook, until he feels him climax, letting himself go completely inside the doctor, who himself hides against the sheets. 

« - Oh, Doctor. You're making me do bad. Look what I'm doing instead of going to work. 

- It's not my fault, I've always liked bad boys. 

- I think I've got the day off today, can we spend it in bed, hmm? 

- What a good idea, I think I had the same one when I woke up this morning. 

- Perfect. » 

[altruistic-meme]

AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :) 

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil, 

--

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

--

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty  )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

-

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!! 

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence, 

--

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic. 

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries, 

--

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary​ )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, 

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

-

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point, 

-- 

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

--

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

-

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring, 

-- 

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh 

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

 A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

--

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic. 

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites ​ )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

-----

Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher, 

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right (Excerpt) || Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Hello fellow boss-babes, it is @ssahotchswife soft hotch saturday again! I’m trying something a little different this week-- I hope y’all don’t mind! This week’s fic is an excerpt from a multichapter I’ve been working on for a couple months. It’s a bit of a slow burn, so this is their first date, roughly a quarter through the fic. 

As I’m sure you all know, your kind words always mean so much to authors, but on this fic in particular I’m looking to hear from you all! I want to know if there’s interest in me posting more chapters of this fic. Please let me know!! 

contains: first date shenanigans, brief, non graphic description of violence, alcohol consumption, aaron hotchner being soft, no gendered pronouns but reader wears a dress

wordcount: 1.5k

It was stupid to be nervous for a date with a man who already had feelings for you. You knew that, yet you still couldn’t tame the anxiety that had settled in the pit of your stomach as you did your makeup. Jess had kept Jack for dinner tonight to give you and Aaron the evening to yourselves, but you almost wished he was here begging you to play legos and superheroes with him. Blocks and make-believe, you were good at. Relationships? Not so much. 

You shook away that train of thought as you pulled a blue dress out of your closet-- a little satin blue number that hit below the knee and had a slit up the thigh. You slipped it over your head and checked yourself in the mirror.

You’re suddenly brought back to a different date night, one that had ended with you crying in the shower because Josh had insisted that the dress you’d picked out was too low cut. You looked down at your forearm as if the bruises from where he had gripped you might have reappeared-- they hadn’t. You can feel your breath catching as the memory of his hand around your throat creeps up from somewhere deep inside you. Aaron’s gentle knock on your door pulled you out of your train of thought. 

“You almost ready, dear?” He called through the door. 

“One sec! I just need shoes,” you said, grabbing a small black purse and slipping on a matching pair of strappy heels. You swung the door open and found him standing in the doorway, looking absolutely delicious in one of his black suits with a blue shirt underneath, no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Fighting against the urge to lick your lips, you fuss with his collar. 

“We match,” you tell him, gesturing to his blue shirt and your blue dress. 

“You look absolutely stunning,” he tells you, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“You don’t think it’s too much? I can change if--” 

“It’s perfect. If you’re comfortable, it’s perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

“Aaron Hotchner, and you haven’t even bought me dinner yet! I’ll have you know I don’t dare kiss on the first date,” You teased him, and he treated you to one of those smiles where the dimples popped up on both sides of his face.

“Maybe I’m a bad influence on you, then,” he smirked, placing a hand on the small of your back as he led you out the door and to the car. 

You shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just very willing to be influenced.” 

Aaron quirked an eyebrow as he opened the passenger door of his car for you, and you bit your lip as you climbed inside. He took your hand and drove the two of you into downtown Alexandria, Virginia, pulling expertly into a street spot on the cobblestone road in front of Nobu. 

“Sushi?” You asked when Aaron opened your car door. 

“Yeah, I thought you liked sushi. We can find something else if—“ 

“Sushi’s great, Aaron. Stop stressing,” you told him, wrapping your arm around his as the two of you made your way into the restaurant. Aaron had made reservations, of course, so you were swiftly taken to a back corner of the restaurant, tucked away in a private little booth. Aaron ordered a bottle of wine for you to share when the waiter came by to introduce yourself, and he looked at you with a fond smile as soon as the two of you were left alone again.

“What?” You asked after a moment, feeling suddenly insecure under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he told you. “I’m just thinking, is all.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Hotchner. Thinking about what?” 

“I’m just really happy to be here with you. I didn’t think I’d ever be brave enough to do this.”

“You’re the bravest man I know.” You tell him, genuinely. 

“That’s what they think, isn’t it? All these people we meet on cases. They see us put on our vests and break down doors and think we’re the bravest people they’ve ever known. They don’t know how scared we really are at all. How brave can I be when it took me this long to tell you how strong my feelings are for you?” 

“Aaron—“ you start, but he suddenly realizes how vulnerable he sounds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“How long?” You asked.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in response.

“How long have you known you had feelings for me?” 

“I figured it out pretty early on. Sometime in between your first day and the day you ran into a house without a vest to save a kid from an unsub.” 

“You were so pissed. I thought for sure you were going to fire me.” 

“I probably should’ve. But that was also the moment that I realized I didn’t want to go back to work if you weren’t going to be there.”

You smiled into your wine glass as you took a sip. “You’ve been very patient.” You remarked. 

“I think you were worth the wait,” he responds with a shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. You smile.

Dinner passes easily, the two of you laughing and smiling and eating and sneaking in a game of footsie just so that a moment didn’t pass where you weren’t touching each other. You settle the tab and Aaron leads you out of the restaurant with the now-familiar weight of his hand on the small of your back anchoring you. 

“I thought we could head down to the boardwalk if you’re not too tired?” He asked as you exited into the street. 

“Lead the way,” you told him, taking his hand in your own as he led you down the sidewalk. You ended up at the edge of the boardwalk, leaning against the rail and watching the sun set over the Potomac. Aaron stood behind you, his arms on either side of you and your back pressed into his chest. You settled into the warmth of him and neither one of you needed to speak, content in the presence of one another as the sun dipped over the horizon. You craned your neck to look at Aaron as the sun disappeared.

“I could stay here forever, but I imagine it’s about time for us to get home.” 

“Unless I can convince you to call out tomorrow, you’re probably right.” He agrees, stepping back to allow you away from the rail.

“Sure, because that wouldn’t be conspicuous at all,” you laughed as the two of you headed back towards the car. With the sun now gone, goosebumps appeared across your arms as a breeze picked up. Aaron slipped his jacket off of and wrapped it around your shoulders in an instant, warning you with a glance the moment you opened your mouth not to protest his chivalry. You didn’t. 

You realize how tired you are the moment you sink into the passenger seat of Aaron’s car, but it’s the kind of tired you feel after a day at the amusement park as a kid— you’re totally spent, but you wouldn’t change a thing and you’d do it all again in an instant. Aaron has a Beatles album playing quietly in the background of your drive and suddenly you’re wishing that he’d never pull the car back into the driveway.

Of course, he does eventually, and the two of you clumsily make your way back into the house. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I had a really great time tonight.” You tell him, handing him back his suit coat. 

“Can I have ten more minutes? I’m not ready for tonight to be over just yet.” He asks of you, his dark eyes shining in the low light, and you’re helpless.

“Of course,” you tell him, and he smiles, pulling his phone out of his pocket and fiddling with it for a moment before setting it on the counter. Some Ella Fitzgerald song is playing. You don’t recognize it, but it doesn’t really matter, because he has one hand wrapped around your waist and the other is holding yours and resting over his heart, and you’re placing your head on his chest as he gently sways you around the kitchen and you realize that everything is perfect. He’s holding you, and you’re safe in his arms, and it’s perfect. Your feet are killing you, and you can barely keep your eyes open, and it’s perfect. You’re picturing a life with him and it’s perfect.

All too soon, the music fades away, and you’re swaying in his arms in the silence, refusing to accept that your evening may truly be over. Aaron kisses your temple and moves to whisper in your ear.

“Good night, sweetheart. Get some rest.” 

You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to meet his lips, one of your hands wrapping around the back of his head while his hand on your back pulled you impossibly closer. 

“Good night, Aaron.” You told him.

“I thought you didn’t kiss on the first date?” He teases you, smiling.

You shrugged. “I’m easily influenced.”

[rebeccccccaaa]

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

_________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hi 🤗 would you do a bday imagine for me? I adore your writing so much! A Bucky one where it’s your anniversary but you get called on a mission and it goes slightly wrong as you see a little bomb thrown in bucks direction. You push him aside and take the full impact of the explosion. You barely survive with serious injuries and you end up being revived and later in a coma and Bucky is always by your side. One day you finally wake up again and Bucky takes care of you and it’s all cute?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: soft fluffy smut because i can’t help myself lol (OMG IT’S NOT FLUFFY LMAOOOO) (i was finna do fluffy smut for their anniversary but it got filthy real quick ajhfbguhrtg, angst, scared bucky :(

cw: violence and graphic depictions of fighting and bombs and death *sad face*

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: I'm so sorry I couldn't get this to you sooner love i was having a really hard time with this concept and i just didn’t feel confident in what it was becoming but i really like what i came up with so I hope you had a beautiful birthday and enjoy bug!!

ps: we’re working on anti-valentine part 2 ;)

_____________________

“Y/n!”

Ringing echoed in your ear painfully.

“Please, don’t leave me. I need you,” you heard Bucky’s voice echo as well.

Smoke filled your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your leg burned but you can’t seem to figure out why it did.

“Y/n, keep your eyes open, come on, baby,” Bucky voice sounded warped and you tried your hardest to focus on his voice. Your eyes grew too heavy and soon you blacked out.

“Help!”

“Somebody!”

“She’s fallen into a come; it was all we could do.”

“I’m here, baby.”

“The other day, Steve and I went to the store and I found your favorite flowers. I just had to buy them of course; for you.”

“Peter asked about you today, I didn’t really know what to tell him so I told him about the story of when we first met.”

“Baby, please wake up; I need you, I miss you so fucking much.”

“Wake up.”

“Wake up.”

“WAKE UP!”

Bucky sat next to you by your bed as you laid still and unmoving just as you had been for the past three months. Bucky came everyday to the medical center and talked to you even though he knew you probably couldn’t hear him. He held your hand softly and suddenly the heartbeat monitor that you were hooked up to for the time being began beeping very quickly. Worried, Bucky called for Dr. Cho and Bruce to come to the medical center as soon as possible.  

“What happened?” Bruce asked Buck.

“I don’t know, I was just sitting here and it started beeping really fast,” Bucky said, panicked.

“Ok can you step out please?” Bruce started to lead him out and others arrived at the medical center after hearing the commotion.

“No, I’m not leaving her,” Bucky fought.

“Bucky, please,” Bruce begged.

“No, no!” Bucky thrashed around as Steve grabbed him and pulled him out. 

Hours later felt like an eternity as Bucky waited outside your door. He waited for any news but he was clueless. Nat, Sam, Steve, and Tony waited with him also clueless about the status of your condition. Wanda and Vision had returned from a mission aware of the news and rushed to meet the rest of the team at the medical center. 

“Is she awake?” Wanda asked breathlessly.

“We don’t know,” Nat answered.

“Vis?” Wanda turned to him.

“I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a state of panic, I don’t think I can get an evaluation right now,” he said sadly.

“Don’t stress, you two. Go get some rest. We’ll let you know what happens,” Steve told them.

They waited all night and by morning they all rested on top of each other, heads on each other's shoulders still waiting for any type of news. When the door suddenly opened, everyone who was asleep instantly and simultaneously woke up anxious for what news they’d receive.

“Barnes,” Bruce said softly; Bucky expected the worst, tears brimming his eyes silently preparing himself for the end of his happiness. 

“She asked for you,” he said and Bucky sobbed, thankful you were awake. He took a very deep breath and walked through the door alone.

When his eyes met yours he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. You looked so beautiful and he couldn’t believe you were awake again. He waited so long to be able to hear your voice, hold you close, tell stories and laugh with you.  

“Bucky,” you whispered.

He lunged at you and hugged you tightly and you hugged him back just as hard. 

“You came back to me,” Bucky sobbed into your shoulder.

“Of course I did; I always come back to you,” your voice croaked.

“I missed you so much, baby,” he cupped your face.

“What happened?”

“You played hero, like you always do,” Bucky chuckled.

You were held up after being ambushed by too many Hydra agents. You had the material you needed and sent it over to Fury and Hill; now you just had to get the hell out of there but that was proving to be an entire challenge in itself.

Hydra had thrown smoke bombs at you two in hopes to distract and lose you but you proved to be stealthier and stronger taking out many agents already. Bucky was busy fighting an agent as were you and you took down your agent before he did. 

You turned to him and to the very side of Bucky a man had detonated a bomb that wasn't a smoke bomb. You didn’t think much before you moved forward and covered the bomb with your body. Bucky snapped the neck of his enemy and grabbed you to pull you away from the bomb but it got stuck to leg and exploded.

Ringing echoed in your ear painfully. 

Smoke filled your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

Bucky grabbed you and knew it was best to not move you considering the state you were in; he couldn’t risk a single thing. More hydra agents flooded in and Bucky grabbed the gun you held and fired perfect headshots to each agent killing every single one easily. 

He held you close and tried to connect to someone but the bomb interfered with both your comms. He yelled and screamed and cried keeping you in his arms looking for anyone who could be a friend nearby. 

Your eyes fluttered and he kept telling you to stay awake, to keep talking, to stay alive. He couldn’t lose you. 

“Hey, you can’t leave me; today’s our anniversary, remember? Four years today. The best four years of my life baby. I can’t lose you,” he cried.

Your body felt limp in his arms and he cried even more. The quinjet came up and medics came and took you away from him. He yelled and shouted and protested but ultimately broke down from feeling helpless. 

Hours later they came and told Bucky that they put in a medically induced coma; it was all your body was willing to negotiate. 

“She’s fallen into a come; it was all we could do.”

Bucky stayed by side all night and everyday until today. Your body reacted to the memories and everything Bucky had told while you were asleep. You fought and man did you fight hard. You needed to wake up and you did just that; reunited with the love of life 3 months later.

“God, I love you so much,” Bucky kissed you. 

“I love you too.”

============

“Bucky have you seen my black shirt? The one with the laces in the back?” you shouted.

“Did you check the clothes on the hangers?”

“Found it!”

Bucky straightened his shirt with a chuckle as he looked at himself in the mirror. Since the two of you originally missed your anniversary date because you almost got yourself killed. Tony gifted you two a reservation for dinner to celebrate. 

Bucky turned around and found staring back at him wearing your black top \you found; you had a small smile on your face.

“You look so beautiful darling,” he whispered holding your hips gently.

“You look very handsome, my love,” you kissed him faintly.

“You ready?” you nodded.

Dinner sucked.

The food was alright, not incredible like you guys had been expecting but that wasn’t even the worst of it. The waiter that was attending to you was constantly flirting with you and Bucky wasn’t having it. When he requested a new one, the waitress that came suddenly lost the top buttons of her shirt and flirted with Bucky. 

So you two left. 

When you got back to your shared room, Bucky pressed you hard against the door as soon as it closed. His lips kissing you hard and his hand already untying the strings that laced your top. Your hands gripped his shirt and soon entangled themselves in his hair. 

“Fucking asshole,” Bucky grunted.

“You think you had a bad time? The bitch suddenly had her tits out when she started waiting us,” you groaned, making Bucky laugh. 

“Yeah that wasn't a great experience. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be; all I need is you and already have that,” you whispered against his lips.

“I fucking adore you,” he said, picking you up and tossing you in the bed.

You sat up and pulled Bucky close to you as you seductively unbuttoned his shirt. Bucky bit his lip as he stared at you and you suddenly felt very small.

“No, don't get all shy on me. Keep going darling,” he encouraged.

You moved your hands down and unbuckled his belt pulling his pants and boxers down his thick thighs you loved so much. You kissed his chest and let your hands roamed across his stomach and waist pulling him close. 

He pushed you down on the bed and kissed you breasts, tracing his tongue down the center of your chest to your stomach. He slowly curled his fingers over the hem of your pants and underwear and pulled down your legs as you did to him. 

He kissed up your legs before reaching over to the bedside table and pulled a condom from inside the drawer. He pulled it down over his length and pumped a few times before settling perfectly between your hips. 

Your legs wrapped around his own hips, excitedly anticipating what's to come. Bucky cupped your face gently, slowly sliding into you with ease. Since you left the stupid resteraunt, you knew Bucky was pissed off and Bucky was pissed you got absolutely railed into oblivion. You were just waiting, arousal dripping from you, for him to snap.

He gave little time to adjust to enormous size; you were already a jittery and whimpering mess underneath him. Your chest heaved up and down and Bucky sat up on his knees pulling you with him. You held his shoulders tightly and continued to move up and down, riding Bucky. 

“You look so beautiful, baby. Fuck, I love you so much,” Bucky wrapped his hand around your throat, sqyeezing ever so gently, and pulled you against his lips. With his other hand he held both of your hands behind your back tightly; your chest flushed against his. He could feel your hardened nipples pressing into his skin.

“Bucky,” you moaned.

“Feel good? My cock feel good fucking you deep inside?” he grabbed one of your hands and placed it on your lower stomach; you could feel him poking your hand slightly with each vigorous thrust.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you moaned looking down in between your bodies. The obscene sounds of him moving rapidly in and out of you echoed in the large bedroom. The sight was just as filthy but you were basking in every second of it. 

Bucky flipped your body over and pulled your hips up harshly immediately slamming back into you. Your back arch and Bucky’s hands rubbed deliciously up and down your spine. He lifted his hand briefly and striked down smack your ass hard. Your head threw back quickly and you moaned loudly at the tingling sensation left imprinted on you.  

Bucky hips snapped into yours repeatedly, seemingly to be chasing his orgasm. Wanting to meet him, you snaked your hand down your front and circled your clit tightening the coil in your stomach. You heard Bucky grunts get louder as did your moans until finally you felt Bucky hips come to a sudden stop. 

Your body shook violently as you came hard; your head fell into the pillows and you let out a pornographic moan; high-pitched and shaky. You felt Bucky’s lips moving up your spine softly and your body trembled under them. His hands caress your sides as he gently pulled out.

“You did so well for me, my love. You were perfect,” he whispered. You simply breathed heavily trying to steady your heart rate. You could feel Bucky moving behind you and quickly returned to clean your body up and his too. 

“Baby?” he whispered when he was finished cleaning.

“Hm?” you hummed.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, that was incredible,” you smiled lazily.

“You are so perfect to me. So good to me,” he cuddled you; you squirmed and bit your lip smiling at him of which he returned.

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

“Well, uh happy late anniversary, doll,” he said, making you laugh.

“Happy late anniversary.”

[ugh-againwiththenames]

So Many Fanfics So Little Time

This is just my list, I have seen so many (but if you want to use it it’s all yours too!).  I’m not a writer.  But I am a hell of a reader. Voracious one might argue. I just wanted to track my progress through the weeds of the absolutely never ending supply of Destiel and Cockles fanfic. 

Read on if you want to see what I’ve read, and what I’ve thought. I am but one person with opinions - some of them may be unpopular - some of them you might agree with, but if you find something you haven’t read here, I encourage you to do so. 

Honestly, this is just so I can track what I have read already, and when my friends ask, I can reference something easily. I have found some different fics on all kinds of ‘best of’ lists all over the interwebs. And I love recs - so rec away friends. 

As someone who reads a solid 40 novels a year typically, I don’t come by the “I read a lot” innocently. I do actually read a LOT.  When not reading fanfic (a new obsession, all things being fair), I usually read a lot of Fantasy/high fantasy, romance/erotica, and or YA (yeah, that was a bit of a ride no?).  So from this one might digress that I like fluffy, cute stories, complicated and supernatural/paranormal type stories, and I sure do not shy away from violence or smut (or maybe violence with smut? *smirk*). 

I have read all of these in the last 2-3 months (I will continue to add as I go). I had never read a fanfic until 2-3 months ago.  A lot of these wonderful people are on here, and I mean you no offence by not directly tagging you - I’m still learning how to actually properly use this site. Links to AO3 are included (and I love you all). 

These aren’t necessarily in any real order - I did read T&S first, followed by 91W, and 4LW...after that it’s just a shit show of Long or Short, Destiel or Cockles - smorgasbord. Some of these are the most popular Fics out there, and others I’ve never seen recc’d anywhere (just sort of accidentally happened upon them).  So let’s get to it, shall we? 

Twist and Shout - ok look. I understand the stigma associated with this one, but it was the FIRST one I read. It was the ball that shot me down the hill, and I haven’t stopped since. So. I loved it. I CRIED like a baby. SOBBED. It was not the quality of the writing but the way the story was developed and delivered. I have Never Cried Like This Reading a Story IN MY LIFE. It’s a rite of passage. Read It and have an opinion - it doesn’t need to be mine.  

Author(s): gabriel, standbyme   https://archiveofourown.org/works/537876/chapters/955188

Ninety-One Whiskey - aka 91W, it is mentioned so much, and is SO worth the read.  I continued my dive into the war fics (not typically my bag really and here I was reading 2 in a row).  There are a couple of followup stories as well to this series (and yes, I’ve read them all).  Although I’ll say that the original is my favourite. I often got lost in a bit of the War/Tactical descriptions, but would recommend it to anyone anyway. Ugh...the “stolen moments”...they were at the same time tragic and the most amazing things ever.  You feel me? no? go read it. 

Author:  komodobits   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362190/chapters/5214500

Four Letter Word for Intercourse - aka 4LW.  OMG just, OMG. I loved this story. I loved it so much. I think I read it in a day.  Devoured it. It’s so HOT. Just read it. If you haven’t you’re missing out.  LEMME AT IT. I loved “knowing the secret”, and had some major anxiety about that realization dawning (I had to take a breath, and be like, no, no, this is gonna be a mess, but it’s gonna be SO GOOD - I was not disappointed).  There’s more than one work here too - read them all. PLEASE. 

Author: bendingsignpost  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086839/chapters/37568591

Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) - This was the first Sobs one I read, but it sent me on a spree.  this is the Memory Loss one.  I have one piece of advice here - read everything by Sobsicles. You can thank me later...just go to her page, and fucking sort to supernatural (or not, read it all!) I’d list them but I’d fucking seriously be here all day.  Also, her tags make me laugh so hard.

Author:  sobsicles https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885

Orpheus - I love this one too, Tattooed!Cas, my LOVE. paired with Mechanic!Dean, my HEART, #help.  Read this one in one evening as well. (I was on a roll).  It’s a one night stand that turns into more (much like my last relationship)....hmm...maybe this is why I was pulled in - although to be fair that is the last similarity to my shitty love life! I do not remember how I stumbled onto this one (tattooed Cas may have been the draw...tbh). Read the warnings though, there is some triggering stuff in this one - but if you can handle it, it’s definitely worth the read. 

Author: sysrae       https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364347/chapters/5220227

Have Love, Will Travel - Can you say no to Stripper!Dean? Cause I sure as hell cannot. Typical sort of character development here with Dean having trust issues, and Cas being painfully awkward...(but in like a super cute way?).  Would Recommend. 

Author: squeemonster   https://archiveofourown.org/works/565455/chapters/1011747

The Inexhaustible Silence of Houses - Change of pace here...It’s got a nice twist.  I didn’t actually clue into how it was going to end until very near the end (maybe I was being oblivious), when the realization came over me and I was...man. I was DONE IN.  I hope that doesn’t spoil (I need some kind of way of remembering them). Voiceless!Cas Hunter!Dean

Author: Askance (doomcountry)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/560268/chapters/1000755

Adagio - This is super short, and super cute. Honestly, I would read the whole thing just for the last line. It’ll take you less than an hour if I remember correctly. Go, I’ll wait. I squeeed. did you? 

Author: noangelsinthegarrison   https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397248/chapters/2928145

Any Little Heartache - super easy read (not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’ll fly through it’ way).  It’s mid-length, not graphic, but really fun hospital AU. HeartSurgeon!Dean / Nurse!Cas - enemies to lovers anyone? Fuck you to Fuck me? yeah. YUM. 

Author: followthattardis https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143376/chapters/11838311

Ad Astra - This is another short(ish) one, just one chapter.  And by that I mean that this is written like a very long poem. Cas as a star who has visited Dean many times over the years of his life, that culminates in 4x01 barn scene. It’s ‘awe’ sad. ‘puppy dog eyes’ sad. The writing format took me a bit to understand what was happening - it’s my lack of poetry knowledge, not the writing.  

Author: nhixxie https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013491

Ad Astra Per Aspera - This is a cute story.  ESL writer, no judgement.  I found this while looking for the one above, and thought the premise looked cute - and it was. Misunderstanding leading to Dean realizing he’s actually Bi.  Miscommunication leading to realization.  

Author: Riverchester https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354336/chapters/28101816

Psalm 40:2 - Time travel post-canon Cas and Pre-series Dean.  If you’re wondering how that works, strap in for this ride, it’s well worth it. 

Author: unicornpoe https://archiveofourown.org/works/30786425/chapters/75992444

Addicted to You - Warlock!Dean/Incubus!Cas - accidental ‘mating’ (I actually really don’t like that word, but there’s sort of no avoiding it in this situation). Cute story.  When you drunk dial a succubus and get an incubus instead...Whatever will we do? 

Author: Ltleflrt https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387346/chapters/9959288 

A Glimpse Beyond - End Fix-it. Not yet complete, 10 chapters so far...I want MORE! Reliving memories Dean/Cas & Sam/Eileen.   

Author: NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731689/chapters/67875925

Cas-ti-el - Please I want more...It’s like the story just started. Please write more of this story!! 1 chapter, it’s a trope prompt challenge, but I want it to be a full on story of its own. Imprinted names of their soul mates, Dean doesn’t understand his (because it’s in a different language)...I’m frustrated by wanting this story to keep going. 

Author:  Valinde (Valyria)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941591

Our Bodies, Posessed by Light - another short one. Not going to lie, this one took a little getting used to, and I can’t say that I enjoyed it too much for the sole purpose that the premise gave me the willies.  Cas has to vessel jump - ends up in Sam...I got through it, it had a good ending, but yeah, sorry. This just wasn’t for me. 

Author:  obstinatrix  https://archiveofourown.org/works/260289

Peanut Butter Pumpkin Wedding Cake - Waiter!Dean / Writer!Cas - This is so effing cute, just misunderstanding after misunderstanding bumbling around like the couple of dorks that they are. It’s only one chapter. 100% would recommend. 

Author:  Sparseparsley https://archiveofourown.org/works/223962

Destiel, Actually - This is another super cute story, 5 chapters. Gabriel playing a singular role in putting Dean and Cas in awkward positions to push them together.  I fucking DIED at “oh, I am the sub” - needs context, but I guarantee you that you’ll laugh out loud...

Author:  Bexism  https://archiveofourown.org/works/399934/chapters/658398

The Smell Before the Rain - This was my first A/B/O - a big apology to all those who are into mpreg and whatnot, this was my lesson that I am not. this was not for me. Also - I’m a firm Cas (Alpha/Dom) believer, and i’m good with switch Cas, but it’s hard for me to take him being the full Omega here, when paired with the rest I just couldn’t do it. I finished it, but, not my thing. I know now. 

Author: jscribbles https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355230/chapters/53406127

Crazy Diamonds - This is another short one, only 3 chapters - it’s a body swap for Dean, 4x02 him and 2018 him swap places (assumption that 2018 him is “with” Cas).  It’s a super cute little story. 

Author:  pantheon_of_discord https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151642/chapters/37738631

The Breath of All Things - Wheelchair!Dean / Volunteer!Cas.  This is a lovely story, typical Dean self-hatred etc. Triggering for those with suicide warnings. It had me in tears at the end. There’s a really spectacular quote near the end that I found so romantic I screen grabbed it. 

Author:  KismetJeska https://archiveofourown.org/works/994750/chapters/1967519

Kind of a Forever Deal - SummerCamp!AU This is just a really cute and fluffy summer camp AU.  Which is so different from 91W (That’s right, check the author)! I was a little disappointed with the ending, but otherwise really enjoyed this all the way through and was loving all the discovery and young characterizations of all the characters. 

Author: komodobits https://archiveofourown.org/works/999291/chapters/1978478

Everytown, USA - Best way I can break this one down? Wanderer!Dean (listless and without a place in the world, he ends up in a small town...), Twin!Cas (that leads to some fun things). There are a number of points where you’re gonna yell at Dean for doing stupid shit (that are very much in character for him to do), you think, well, yes, obviously you’re going to do that you silly fucking boy [affectionate]; but whyyy? (but we know). 

Author: aileenrose https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797559/chapters/3854836

Chalk and Chainmail - HighSchool!AU, Cas is an artist, Dean LARP’s - it’s cute and angsty. 

Author:  lemonsorbae https://archiveofourown.org/works/804704/chapters/1517551

A Little Patience - Ok. you want smut? This is your story. You want Kink? This is your story.  I actually did not finish this. It got a little carried away in my opinion. It was VERY panty kink oriented (which, while essentially canon isn’t really my kink) so, if you want that Panty Kink on full display? Go forth and enjoy! it  is thirty something chapters, I got to the mid-twenties I Think. 

Author: riseofthefallenone https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750058/chapters/3739232

Control - I REALLY ENJOYED THIS. Which is saying a lot for someone who has already admitted that a Subby Cas isn’t really my HC - so to so thoroughly enjoy a Sub!Cas story? (maybe it’s the tattooes...*wink*). It’s an AU where Cas is the head of a company - Dean is a callboy I guess, for lack of a better term. Just read it.

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden  https://archiveofourown.org/works/31156601/chapters/76993217

More (I copy pasted the next lot from my google doc, I’ll flush them out later - no i wont...)

Teach Me (short) - movie night in the bunker, things get a little carried away   Author:  Chiyume  https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961327

You Light the Spark (in my bonfire heart) (short) - when cas doesn't realize that dean is unaware of his feelings, super short, super cute                      Author: noangelsinthegarrison https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193910 

Communication Breakdown (short/cockles) - dean ends up in Jensen's head while he films the confession scene, no sexual content Author: jujubiest   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339

Look What You Made Me Do (short/cockles) -      -  Vegas Con 2020 / jensen comes out with a song     - cute short - no sexual content Author:  green_blue_heller https://archiveofourown.org/works/30251592 Full House (short/cockles) - reimagined version of the rented house story - putting it in order (so to speak). funny / cute / fluffy not explicit   Author: n_nami  https://archiveofourown.org/works/30855827

Cyber Sex (short/cockles) - anastiel https://archiveofourown.org/works/31467086      - shameless post GISH Fest zoom call porn      - Short (very short)

It's Complicated (cockles) - gail_morgan https://archiveofourown.org/works/31434938/chapters/77747519       The GISHtake (short/cockles) - MellyCrazyCoconut https://archiveofourown.org/works/31508099     - cute short post GISH zoom     - oops "babe, really?"  

(10.02.2021 updated) Since last update: New reads - Fuck i’m gonna be here all day - there’s not gonna be as much gonna be NO detail in these breakdowns...sorry! This has now just become a “what i’ve read list” as opposed to a Rec list...

Love, All Alike (Pt. 1 Love, All Alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555599/chapters/10370646                             - Though The Stars Walk Backward (pt 2 Love, All alike) - Phantoms_and_Foxgloves

And this, your living kiss - opal_bullets   https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083927/chapters/42744872

Come On, Let's Strike a Match (Domination and Submission: a love story pt 1) - anyrei & queerwerewolf ***   https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722478/chapters/62458810    - Playing With Fire (D&S: a love story pt 2)    - We Kiss and the Flames Get Higher (D&S: a love story pt 3)     - Sparking That Old Flame (D&S: a love story pt 4) 

Cinderwings - bendingsignpost Cinderella!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847041/chapters/29336421

Linden - fleeceframe Swan!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33126730/chapters/82236118

No Netflix, No Chill (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764966

Can't Drink You Away (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785792 

Jensen Totally (Does Not!) Snore (short RPF) - Dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30315717

Dean Ships It (short) - dorian_they   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30349434

All about control - wingless   https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151930/chapters/20791243

Aesthetics in Autoerotica (pt 1 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant   https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885544                                                             - The Ties that Bind (pt 2 Aesthetics in Autoerotica) - relucant

Let's take a drive - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32581027/chapters/80819581 

Enchanted ink - castielslostwings TattooArtist!Dean TattooArtist!Castiel AU ***   https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043622/chapters/55109530

The bones beneath our skin - darknessbound   https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633754/chapters/59515804

The Plot (RPF) - Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970

The Gentle Force with which you Take Me (RPF) - Phoenix_Ascended   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32110120/chapters/79549183

According to all known laws of Life (Pt. 1 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207901                                                          - and he's back (with a mind of his own) (pt. 2 Cursed Metaphors) - sobsicles

Six hundred sundays (and many more) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31158776

Aching in the Absence of you - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31832977/chapters/78811378

gorging myself on you, still can’t get full (insatiable) (Short) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32203291

memories bring back memories (bring back you) - sobsicles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022945/chapters/57796885

Dream Come True (short) - bendingsignpost   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071159

tall grass - aeli_kindara   https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127040/chapters/30030726

asunder (Short) - rageprufrock https://archiveofourown.org/works/62115

Apheresis - bendingsignpost BloodDonor!AU **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32674783/chapters/81056680

we always were but never knew it - frightfullyrude   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32698324/chapters/81119503

In this Louisiana Bar (Short) - fleeceframe   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31764487

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Alternate Universes - n_nami   https://archiveofourown.org/works/32687929/chapters/81092785

my heart a compass - lagaudiere https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629951

Unsound Inverses - sp8ce (not complete)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836881/chapters/73413300

The Jensen Mistake (RPFish) - fellshish   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31950169

tell me about the dream (Pt. 1 Kids are coming home) - playedwright   https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984813/chapters/68544450

It's handy to know (FIMMF Themed ;)) - RosaMarloes   https://archiveofourown.org/works/31761322

So Says The Sword - komodobits AngelTrueform!AU**   https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597892/chapters/28695592

Communication Breakdown (RPFish)- darkshrimpemotions (jujubiest)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669601/chapters/72951339

Carry You Home - Casloveshisfreckles   https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982637/chapters/65862916

In the Shadow of your Wings - Enochian Things (Salr323)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531294/chapters/17121655

When Harry Met Sally (RPF) (Pt. 1 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood   https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622347/chapters/17351845    - Eight Dildos (RPF) (Pt. 2 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood    - Attention, Please (RPF) (Pt. 3 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood             - Boat Trip (RPF) (Pt. 4 When Harry Met Sally ‘verse) - mnwood

A Winter's Tale - NorthernSparrow   https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654327/chapters/5930561

A Close Shave - NorthernSparrow https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090167

r/supernatural - renrub (short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626783

sam reads destiel fics - rebshome (short - funny!)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33721624

Angel Cookies - noxsoulmate Chirstmas!AU **  https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729640/chapters/26427765

Under The Midnight Sun - NorthernSparrow Arctic!AU **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690645/chapters/39143677

Bron-Yr-Aur - mrbluesky (Short) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225335

The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet - saltyfeathers   https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258594/chapters/45800209

The Meaning On My Skin - saltnhalo   https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005378/chapters/42538133

Red Right Hand (Pt. 1 Murder Ballads)  - Duckyboos   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306110/chapters/9760008    - Are you the One that I've been waiting for? (pt. 2 Murder Ballads) - Duckyboos   

Riptides - sharkfish   https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230426/chapters/30263556

Damn Fine Ride - Cimorene105 (pt 1 - rodeo) Cowboy!AU** (I’m a horse girl, sue me...)  https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342340    - My Face Just Does This, Sometimes - Cimorene105 (pt. 2 rodeo)    - The Kinkiest Thing I've Ever Done- Cimorene105 (pt 3 rodeo)    - All Signs Point to Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 4 rodeo)    - Monster Love - Cimorene105 (pt. 5 rodeo)    - My Man, The Siren - Cimorene105 (pt. 6 rodeo)    - A Pain in My Ass - Cimorene105 (pt. 7 rodeo)

Astrolabe (terra incognita pt 1) - reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent   https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348812/chapters/7326794    - Drollery (terra incognita pt 2) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent    - Rubrication (terra incognita pt 3) - reluctantabandon Winter_of_our_Discontent

Go Down With This Ship - PorcupineGirl   https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023642/chapters/18370474

Fire and Ice - Castielslostwings (Firefighter/Paramedic AU!) **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286295/chapters/55768486

The Structural Similarities of Hunters and Onions - Faster_Than_the_Speed_of_Sound (Short)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/33383101

Castiel Novak's Office, This is Dean - emmbrancsxx0   https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411336/chapters/53545840

Out of the Deep (out of the deep pt. 1) - riseofthefallenone - MERMAID AU! **   https://archiveofourown.org/works/548878/chapters/977676

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx - pantheon_of_discord   https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909440/chapters/24256989

I'll Be Good - LittleAngelCassie   https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118334/chapters/9282234

Kenosis - CastielsCarma (Short - part of Destiel ABC collection)   https://archiveofourown.org/works/30411720

[themfchase]

raven unit v (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter five: safe house. ✎  [8k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: smut, angst, gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death, oral (male receiving, sorry not that much smut in this chapter) With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter one. chapter two chapter three. .raven unit: drabble #01 drabble #02 n/a: After a long hiatus due to work, I’m here to finally post the fifth chapter of Raven Unit. The next chapter will be the final chapter of this series and I can only say for now, it’s been a ride. I really hope you enjoy it. It’s shorter than the others and highly unedited, but I just wanted to post as soon as I could. Please, send me messaged, anything, your support and love for this series has been what motives me to keep going and I’ll never take that for granted. Thank you so much. <3 Now onto the chapter. 

You had spotted Jimin and Jin a couple of times as you and Namjoon were quietly still in your corner, watching as the partygoers spoke to each other avidly. The discrete radio in your ear was also dead silent, only to be used in case something changed. The tension had eased a little as you drank a single glass of wine. Maybe you should have eaten more before leaving.  Namjoon remained quiet as he observed the party, eyes now giving away his soldier ways as they sharpened to any sudden movement close to you, and you were thankful for the silence.  Looking around your eyes searched for Jungkook, you hadn’t spotted him after he had threatened Namjoon, you’d feel a lot calmer if you could just see him, keep your eyes on him. Make sure he was safe.  A gasp left you when you felt a warm palm against your own, head turning to look at Namjoon that offered you a comforting smile.  “Loosen up, nothing is going to happen, all you need to do is to be yourself.” He smiled, and you frowned. Be yourself is the last thing you needed to do. “Well, you get the point.” Your lips parted to give him a witty answer when you were interrupted by the sound of a voice.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to The Elizebeth Gala.” Your gaze moved to the tall man sporting a fine tailored suit, he had a glass of champagne in his hand and he looked oddly familiar. “I’m pleased to see everyone has adhered to our masquerade theme this year.” He continued, he was young, perhaps a little older than Jin, but still oddly familiar. “I hope you all enjoy the event, dance, enjoy the food and the music, it’s a pleasure to receive you all.” He makes a quick toast, eyes moving in your direction, and for a moment you’re nervous. Once everyone goes back to their conversation, the man is slowly making his way towards you, your eyes slightly building behind the mask and your hand automatically wraps around Namjoon’s arm.  “Mr. Kim, fancy seeing you here.” He stops in front of you both, gaze moving towards Namjoon. “Mr. Wang, I’d say the same, wouldn’t expect you to be out so soon.” Namjoon retorted politely. Your brows furrowed. They knew each other. The handsome man scoffed, eyes rolling as he downed his champagne and placed on a passing tray.  “Well, they can’t keep me locked forever, I have good lawyers.” He placed his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I guess I owe you one.”  Namjoon chuckled, a melodic laugh that was too unfair to be true.  “Don’t get caught next time or I’m keeping them.” You didn’t understand what they were talking about, your gaze moving from one to the other as they had the cryptic conversation.  “And who might this beautiful lady be?” The man’s gaze shifted to you, eyes boring down your figure, but not in a nasty way.  Namjoon’s lips parted to answer, but you quickly extended your hand.  “Raven, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled at him, finding newfound confidence within you.  The man lifted a brow, taking your hand, but to your surprise he lifted the back of your palm to his lips, placing a kiss to it.  “Enchantée.” He - cheesily added.  “So, Mr. Wang, how do you and Namjoon know each other?” You wrapped your arm back around Namjoon’s arm once again, the man stifling beside you.  “Please, call me Jackson.” The man winked. Too many cliches for one man, but suddenly the name rang clearer in your head. Jackson Wang. You had a faint memory of seeing the news and his name popping up when they announced they had one of FBI’s most wanted under custody “Oh, Namjoon, and I go way back. He’s safe kept some of my... Art a few times when I was... Unavailable.” It all came back to you now, one of the most infamous con artist of all time. Had made million-dollar heists. Art. Banks. Politicians. “But of course, my collection isn’t by far as vast and luxurious as Namjoons, I’m sure you’ve seen it.” His gaze shifted to the man beside you, Namjoon stood silent, looking straight at the other man.  “Oh, I’ve seen it.” You faked a wide grin. “Was quite taken back by the Caravaggio first time I saw it, matter of fact, I think I heard somewhere that It had been stolen a few years back...” You furrowed your brows, bringing one finger up to your lower lip inquisitorially. “Isn’t that right, Joonie?” You tilted your head to look at him.  Namjoon has his tongue poking on the inner side of his cheek, annoyed.  “Oh, the Caravaggio, if he doesn’t take good care of it, I might just sneak in someday and take if for myself.” Jackson continued, but Namjoons brows raised.  “Oh, you can definitely try. But my security is better than the Louvre, my friend, where I borrowed it from, and plus, I don’t mind killing intruders.” Namjoon smiled widely, bringing the glass in his hand to his lips.  “Are you at least going to finally tell me how you breached that?” Jackson lifted a brow.  “Nope,” Namjoon answered, emphasizing the ‘p’ as he took yet another sip from his drink.  “Well, in that case, I think it’s time for me to return to the party.” He chuckled, looking your way. “Raven, it was a pleasure meeting such a stunning woman.” He gave you a slight bow and made his way back to the crowd.  You and Namjoon were quiet for a while, not a word exchanged, but you couldn’t help it, you started shaking your head, dumbfounded by the information you just got.  “A fucking con artist.” You blurted out.  Namjoon quickly pulled to further back onto the boat.  “Keep it fucking down, people can hear you.” He whispered, quickly looking around and bringing one hand up to fix his hair.  You turned in his direction, crossing your arms.  “So is everything about you a pissing contest?” You questioned, and he rolled his eyes, finally a semblance of a non-poised man.  “I just enjoy art.” Was his answer.  “You can just go to a museum and enjoy it there, in case you’re unaware.” You retorted.  “I didn’t steal it, I borrowed it. Besides, the Art Mafia is very real and I assure you more people are safe with some of them in my hands than they are in museums.” Namjoon shrugged.  “I knew there was something fishy about you.” You chuckled, the alcohol making you a little more loose than you’d be.  “Doesn’t my sketchy persona make me even slightly more attractive?” The corner of his lip lifted in a smirk. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive as fuck. But the real thing ringing in your head was... Was Namjoon flirting with you? You took in a deep breath. He knew what he did to you, they all knew.  “Maybe, or maybe it just makes you seem lame.” You teased, a tipsy chuckle leaving you.  “Oh, Raven, I can assure you, I’m far from lame.” That sobered you up. He was certainly flirting with you. But unknown to you, someone was listening in, and that someone walked away right before what you said next.  “Don’t start getting ideas, now, Joonie, I’m a taken girl.” You brushed off his flirting.  ��Nah, you’re not my type anyway, I just enjoy the chase.” You suddenly felt comfortable around him for the first time, as if a wall had fallen between you both. And you both talked about art and other things you had in common for the next hour. You had even forgotten what your situation was for a moment before something rang in yours and Namjoon’s ear.  “Suspicious movement on level three, keep your eyes open.” It was Hobi, your nerves suddenly spiked, and you were on high alert.  “Hoseok, what’s up?”  You heard Jungkook's question over the com.  There was a beat of silence before he answered.  “Found two bodies in the laundry carts, I think we have company.” That was more than just suspicious movement. That meant they had found you. What didn’t make sense, though, was how? You quickly eyed Namjoon, he only nodded, it was time to move.  Making your way through the crowd, he guided you by the hand, your eyes quickly moving to the waiters, Yoongi, Taehyung they were all looking, one hand hovering perfectly over where their guns would be. And then you saw another face, one you didn’t know, a menacing one, wearing a disheveled waiter’s uniform, a small bloodstain on the corner of the shirt.  Your eyes bulging as the man walked slowly through the crowd, eyes all the faces, looking for you. He slowly made his way towards you and Namjoon, still not looking at you, and you quickly spotted Jungkook, he had spotted the man as well, but he wouldn’t be able to make his way to you in time, the boat was almost over the border. You were almost there, just a few more minutes.  As the man made his way towards you, it was as if things moved in slow motion, Jungkook reaching for his gun, the slow movement of the man’s eyes moving in your direction. You had to make a decision, and you quickly pulled Namjoon back, turning your back to the man and slamming your lips onto Namjoons.  He stiffed in place as your lips met his, but quickly cupped your small face with his large hands, almost covering most of it as he kissed you back. You kept your eyes open, gaze moving as the man went right past you, not even stopping to look at the kissing couple.  As soon as he was out of sight, you pulled away, quickly turning your head to meet a frozen Jungkook. His eyes glued to you then his gaze moving to Namjoon. He shifted as fast as you could think, gaze darkening, featured hardening, and he took one step.  “Jungkook, not here.“ You heard Jin speak over the com and he stopped, but you could almost see the anger bubbling in his features before he took in a deep breath.  “We’re moving.“ He spoke over the com and you followed him with your eyes. Hands quickly lifting to your lips.  “You can worry about that later, Raven, we have to move.” It was Namjoon who bought you out of your screaming thoughts, pulling you in the crowd and walking to the Jackson, that spoke avidly about something with someone.  “It’s time to repay your debt.” Namjoon interrupted the conversation, making Jackson just glare at the person he was talking to, the same walking away.  “Hit me.” He spoke with amusement.  “I need to get off this boat effective immediately, has to fit at least eight people.” He looked around as he spoke, making sure the second possible attacker wasn’t close.  “I have a motorboat in the back of the boat, should fit everyone.” Jackson didn’t even question. “Follow me.”  You were moving the moment Jackson took a step, skipping as you tried to follow their quick steps.  “Back of the boat,” Namjoon spoke over the com.  As you made your way through the large waste boat, one by one the boy’s appeared behind you, your head turning to spot them, and Jungkook in the back with dark eyes, not even looking in your direction. Once you were finally at the back of the boat it was dark, the boys quickly going past you as Namjoon stopped in front of Jackson, the man putting his hands in his pockets.  “We’re crossing the border as we speak. A couple more minutes and you shouldn’t have any trouble,” Jackson informed.  “You have two armed men on the boat, they’re dangerous, keep your eyes open.” Said Namjoon.  “Oh, I already had seven armed men to worry about. Two more shouldn’t be a problem.” He shrugged. “Besides, I could tell the story of how I helped get the president’s daughter to safety at parties in the future.” You furrowed your brows once his gaze met yours.  “Oh, you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you? I can spot fine art from a distance, sweetheart.” Your mouth opened, but you closed it, not really knowing what to say.  “Time to go,” Jimin said, you turned your head and noticed the motorboat was already on the water. “ Namjoon thanked Jackson and pulled you along with him. He helped you onto the motorboat, and soon enough, you were on your way, watching the big boat disappear as water splashed lightly around you from the speed you were going.  The boat was silent, everyone quiet and looking ahead, even Namjoon as the only light source was the moon shining above you.  You sat at the far back of the boat, watching them with their backs to you, Jungkook stirring, sailing. You had a dreading feeling that you had messed up. A dreading feeling that it would be hard to overcome this, but you just hugged your arms as the harsh wind blew your hair, messing it up.  The party was over.  It was back to reality now.  It must have taken an hour for you to finally reach the docks. Not one word spoken once the boat was anchored at the dark, empty docks. You had made it, one step closer to being safe, one step closer.  You almost lost your step once your feet met the rotting wood from the dock, Yoongi quickly gripping on your arm, making sure you wouldn’t fall before he was walking beside you, following the others. Your eyes were trained on Jungkook’s back. It was unusual of him to leave your side when you were out in the open like this, and it made you want to curl into yourself.  You all walked until you stopped in front of three cars, Hobi and Jimin quickly moving to uncover them as Namjoon threw a black backpack over the hood and began to undress. You turned around, looking at Jungkook as he too began to undress.  “Jungkook.” He didn’t look at you, didn’t even react. You sighed. “Jungkook.” You tried again. He continued to undress. Back to you.  Losing your patience you closed the gap between you both, gripping at his arm and he quickly pulled it away from you.  “What?” He questioned sharply. You furrowed your brows, a scoff leaving you.  “You can’t be serious. Jungkook, I had to do it.” You started to argue with him, but he remained quiet. You could feel the other men quickly glance up as they all changed. “Jungkook, fucking talk to me.” You insisted once he finally finished putting his gun in his holster.  “Fine, you wanna talk?” He turned to face you. “Let’s fucking talk, Raven.” He quickly gripped at your arm and pulled you into the back of one of the cars, throwing another backpack beside you before he shut the door.  “I’ll drive with her, you guys go along, I want Jin in front of me, Hobi behind me.” He commanded before getting in the driver’s seat and starting the car. “Get dressed.” He commanded to you before he started driving.  You huffed, almost like a teenager, but obeyed, quickly changing into the clothes inside the bag, the same black cargo pants, and the plain shirt. You took off your heels and put on the heavy boots, undoing your hair, taking off your jewelry, and stuffing it all inside the bag before you crawled into the front seat, sitting beside him.  “Put your seat belt on.” He once again commanded coldly. You did so then crossed your arms and it was quiet. The road was dark, it was mostly dirty all around, you could see Jin’s car in front of you and Hobi behind you through the review mirror.  “Talk.” He said.  “I’m not speaking to you while you’re acting like an asshole.” You shook your head.  “Oh, stop being a fucking spoiled brat.” He spat, not looking in your direction.  “I fucking kissed him, so fucking what, Jungkook, there was a man ready to fucking kill me coming in my direction I needed to think fast.” You argued.  “Ah, I see, think fast, so the flirting before that had nothing to do with you suddenly deciding to fucking kiss not only my soldier but my fucking best friend, one I have fucking history with?” He condescendingly asked.  “Of course not! What the fuck do you think I am? I’m in a life-death situation and you think the first thing that comes into my head is to make out with your fucking flirty friend, fuck you!” You lose your patience.  He’s quiet for a few seconds, then he shakes his head.  “So you admit you two were flirting?” You rolled your eyes, both hands coming up to rub at your face in frustration.  “Yes, we fucking flirted, Jungkook. But not only was it playful, but I also told him to not get ideas because I was taken.” You looked away, out the window to the pitch dark desert. “I’m not fucking Irina, I’m not going to sleep with all your friends, I just want you.” And if you hadn’t seen his expression on the reflection of the window, perhaps you wouldn’t have regretted saying those words. You quickly turned to look at him, his brows deeply furrowed, a look of grief in them as he went quiet.  “I’m sorry.” Your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry you lost someone you loved, someone you let go of.” You reached a hand towards him, placing it gently on his cheek. “But I’m not her, Jungkook... I playfully flirty with your friends, but... I don’t want any of them, and they don’t want me.”  “That’s easy for you to say, I can see the way they look at you.” His voice came out contained. “No... They don’t want me. I know they don’t... They respect you and they respect me. It’s just banter... You don’t have to give me up for anyone.” You leaned forward, the seatbelt making it hard for you to reach him fully, but you placed your lips on his cheek, and his eyes fluttered.  “I wouldn’t...” He spoke softly, stance relaxing. “I wouldn’t give you up... Not you.” He quickly glanced at you, before looking back at the road.  “I’m sorry I kissed Namjoon, but it really was a way to hide my face in an unsuspicious manner.” You apologized, thumb grazing softly at his cheek.  “Motherfucker, now I’m going to have to find a way to deep clean your mouth.” He chuckled. “Did he slip in tongue? I swear to god, I’ll use bleach.” He shook his head, and it was your turn to laugh.  “Mmm, maybe a little.” You teased, and he squinted, looking in your direction. “But I know a better way to cleans my mouth from him.” You tilted your head, one hand moving to unclasp your seat belt. Jungkook quickly furrowed his brows.  “What are you doing?” He questioned, putting his eyes back on the road.  “Cleansing my mouth, commander.” You reached down, hand pressing into his clothed middle, and his lips parted.  “Y/N, we’re in the middle of a mission.” He warned you.  “Nothing is going to happen.” You comforted him as you felt his cock hardening under your palm.  “What if something does happen, am I supposed to just start a shootout with my boner hanging out?” He quickly glanced at you.  “Jungkook, shut up and let me suck your cock.” You started to undo his pants. He didn’t argue. Smoothly, you pulled out his hard erection from his pants, eyes shining once his hard engorged head met your eyes, licking your lips as you started to slowly pump him. His gaze fell to the motion of your hand moving up and down slowly on his length.  “Eyes on the road, commander, I know for a fact you’re good at multitasking.” You leaned down, mouth engulfing his tip and sucking on it gently.  “Fuck.” He whispered out, you could hear the light thump of his head against the seat. The curse gave you more motivation, sinking further onto his length, tongue lapping as you took in as much as you could before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. You pumped him a few more times, noticing his grip tight around the steering wheel, and you looked up at him. Fuck, he was hot. Lidded eyes, slightly swollen lower lip. He must have been biting on it. You decide you want this to be the best head he’s ever had, so you sink back down onto his length, further down until you could feel him in the back of your throat, unable to breathe. Your throat closed around him and he dragged out groan sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. Bobbing your head, you repeated the motion a few times, taking him in deep and stilling, hearing him pant just above you. Little grunts and groans leaving him as you did your best to bring him closer to his edge.  Your mouth pooled with drool, jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, and eventually, you felt a hand rest on the back of your head, fingers threading into your locks before he was gripping. You allowed him to control your motions, understanding that he was a man of control, and he pulled at your head and pushed, setting a pace that made his sounds louder, breathless.  “Fuck, just like that, baby.” He cursed out, and you whined, you wanted to see him. Wanted to see the look of pleasure on his face. His eyes shifting from your head to the road, sharp attention allowing him to drive and edge at the same time.  It wasn’t until you felt yourself choke around his cock at one hard press of your head down that he hissed, croaked out, voice breaking when he spoke.  “I’m gonna fucking cum.” He almost whined out.  And you went faster, bopping your head, drool sticky hands playing with his cock and his groans become more frequent, louder. His grip on your hair tightened until it was painful and he was twitching and spilling into your mouth. Hot spurs of cum coating your tongue and throat as he ground upwards to rise his high.  Like a good girl, you helped him until nothing more came out, swallowing every last bit of his release before you pulled away, sitting up again. He panted, hand moving to the steering wheel again, and you helped tuck him back into his pants before he looked at you.  There was the dangerous, hungry gaze that sent jolts of arousal down your body. You truly felt like he hadn’t shown you just how much he would devour you. And you were eager to find out.  “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered out, hand moving to clean the drool from the corner of your swollen lips and bringing it to his own, sucking the thumb into his mouth.  It was amazing how something as simple as that made you blush, calling you beautiful. It made you forget everything, just like at the party, it made you forget you were being hunted down, chased, that you had witnessed, almost felt death multiple times. Right here, with his warm body just beside yours... You felt like you were already saved.  A few hours went by. It didn’t nearly seem like it while you both talked about things you hadn’t had the opportunity to talk about before. Trivial things, really, but in a setting like yours, it was more than welcomed. You had found out Jungkook was obsessed with games. Mostly shooting games, of course, the soldier would be obsessed with shooting games. He defended himself by saying it had improved his strategy views and you laughed at him. His laugh, though, was truly mesmerizing, when he was free, full-body laughter that made your heart feel like it could stop beating at any second. That boyish smile of his when he made fun of your disastrous prom date. It almost felt perfect, if your mind didn’t suddenly sabotage you with the heavyweight of your duty to the world. Jungkook noticed the shift in your demeanor but decided to let you process that on your own, offering his support by placing his hand on your knee. You took it, interlocking your fingers. Soon enough you were going uphill on a rocky road, the car bouncing, and he took his hand away to have a better grip at the steering wheel.  The safe house was atop a hill surrounded by a deep, large forest. The house looked old but large. It was made out of heavy wood, and you could tell it was well taken care of. As soon as the cars pulled up into the large vast driveway, you could see the sky turn a light blue color, indicating the sun was rising, and you didn’t even notice how tired you were before you saw the change. Everyone parked, and Jungkook turned his head in your direction, a deep sigh leaving him. It was as if he could finally relax.  “Welcome to the Safe house, Raven.” His voice came out raspy, and you offered him a soft smile, reaching out for his hand and taking it. There was a silent conversation going on between you both. Everything you both had gone through to ensure your safety, how close to death you had been, how in the middle of this all you still found a way to find love, even if it was all still so fresh. A knock to your window brought you both back to reality, finally exiting the car. Jungkook walked to you, taking your hand as you both met up with the other men.  Namjoon kept his eyes cast down, hands in his pockets. It was different seeing him in anything other than a suit, but you couldn’t deny that it also fitted him perfectly.  “So... Uh...” He began, Jungkook lifting a brow in amusement. “You’re not mad about the kiss, right?” He finally lifted his gaze to his commander.  Jungkook chuckled.  “Nah, it’s fine. She did what she had to do.” Jungkook nodded. “Besides, you’re free to kiss right now if you want, I wouldn’t mind at all,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him, brows furrowing. He only shrugged. You squinted your eyes.  “She sucked your dick in the car, didn’t she?” Yoongi was the one to ask, Jungkook only smirked.  “Yeah, definitely gave him head in the car,” Hobi added in.  “What the fuck?” You cursed out. “Do you guys really need to talk about me giving Jungkook head or not in the car right now?” You felt your face burn hot. Why were they like this?  “It’s not a discussion, you did give him head in the car, I could see your head moving.” Jimin fixed the straps of his backpack.  “Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes.  “Not the first time Namjoon would get dick breath, though.” It was Taehyung’s turn. Everyone looked at him, silent. “What, too soon?”  You all fell into laughter, it felt like it was finally over, deciding to participate in the fun, you pouted your lips.  “Joonie, give me a kiss.” You playfully said.  “You all are children.” Namjoon crossed his arms.  “Let’s settle in, I’m fucking starving.” Jin finally spoke, taking the first step towards the house.  The inside was dark, yet cozy, it had a big fireplace with a large couch and a few armchairs, Jungkook was quick to walk into a room. You only watched everyone move around as if they were familiar with the house. Taehyung and Jimin quickly starting a fire while Namjoon looked through the cabinets for some coffee, Jin and Hobi sat down on the couch and groaned. Everyone was tired.  You looked around for Yoongi, only noticing him walking back from the same room Jungkook was in and joining the other two on the couch.  “Jungkook put up the motion sensors, it’s safe sailing now.” He slumped on the couch and relaxed. Jungkook finally made his way back, watching you, still frozen in place, looking around. “Love what you did with the place, by the way,” Namjoon commented from the wide-open kitchen on the opposite of the living room. You looked at Jungkook.  “So, this is your safe house?” You questioned him, watching him place his hands in his pockets and make his way to you.   “This is my house.” He admitted. “Your original safe house was meant to be somewhere else, I changed things up last minute.” He said looking at the boys and back at you.  You both were quiet for a while, a shy smile playing on your face.  “So, are you going to show me around, commander?” You looked down, reaching out your hand to tug on his shirt.  He sighed, leaning closer to you.  “You really have to stop calling me commander if you don’t want me to fuck you in front of everyone.” He teased, voice raspy.  “There are literally nine rooms in the house. Get one.” Yoongi shouted from the couch.  You chuckled, Jungkook mimicking you.  Jungkook showed you around the house, Yoongi wasn’t lying there were nine rooms, eight bedrooms, and one control room. You saw monitors that showed cameras that spread all over the forest area, they were all motion-triggered and on the wall, Jungkook had a waste collection of guns. You noticed there were no pictures on the wall. If this was his house, you’d think he at least would have pictures of his friends, but to your surprise there was nothing.  He showed you his room. It was simple, a bed, bedside table, no television. It felt... Lonely. But this was after all his home.  “Do you want to rest, Namjoon made some coffee, we’re taking turns keeping watch for the first week.” He leaned against the frame of his bedroom door, crossing his arms like he always did, muscles bulging out, making you really tempted to “rest” with him for the next hours. But for some reason, you were no longer tired, you just wanted to sit down with them, spend some time with everyone.  “No, it’s fine, I just want to relax a little.” He nodded and took your hand, walking back to the living room.  You all sat down in front of the newly lit fire, everyone with coffee mugs in their hands and quiet, all of them contemplating that we had made it. Finally made it.  The responsibility of what you had to do next weighed on your shoulders. But you just looked at their faces, faces of the men that risked their lives for you, that someone took you in, someone that came from a completely different world than them.  “I found out what Namjoon does for a living.” You said, breaking the silence as you brought your own mug of coffee to your lips.  The conversation spurred on after that, Namjoon telling everyone about how and why he got into being a con artist. Everyone pays attention, Yoongi makes fun of him for it and everyone joins in on the laughter. And soon enough the conversation becomes more serious.  “So, Y/N... Do you know what you’re going to say?” Hobi is the one that asks, you’re head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder and he has an arm around your waist, playing with the material of your shirt. You think about it for a few seconds.  “I guess I’m just going to tell the truth.” You begin. “If people want to believe me or not, that’s up to them, but I’m going to do my part and it’s probably going to open up an investigation.” You took in a deep breath.  “And after that?” Jin was the one that asked. You moved your gaze to him, remembering the conversation you both had at Seamore. After everything was over, what would you do?  “I... I don’t know. I guess it all depends on the outcome. I’ll go back and continue my duty in my father’s place for as long as the people need me, but... Once that’s over, I think I’m done.” You look down at your fingers, contemplating going back to your “normal” life, leaving these men behind.  “I think you’re really brave,” Taehyung spoke. “You went through hell, held yourself pretty well despite losing everyone you trusted, your family, you could just disappear, be presumed dead. But you’re choosing to set the record straight. To fulfill your duties.” Jungkook sighed beside you, you wondered if he also was thinking of the aftermath of it all.  You nodded, a soft appreciative smile tugging on your lips.  “I know this might sound cliche, but... I lost my family, and I feel like life gave me a new one. You know? Like... Six brothers.” You spoke softly.  “Count me out, I’ve thought about fucking you before.” Yoongi chimed in.  “Yeah, me too, sorry...” It was Taehyung’s turn.  “Well, you did kiss me, so...” Namjoon added.  “If one more person speaks up, I’m bringing out my knives,” Jungkook warned.  The boys chuckled, and you pursed your lips, chuckling right after.  “What about you guys, though? What now?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s middle, looking at them.  “Well, I’m going to need to head back to Red Hawk sooner or later.” Jimin sighed out. “Get back to work.”  “Yeah, Gallaticus has been unattended for a while, I might have to go back too,” Taehyung said.  “I can stay for a while after the first week, but I have a job coming up that I need to strategize, so, not for long,“ Namjoon said while resting his head on his hand.  “Same for me, my men need to come back,” Jin spoke out.  You looked at Yoongi and Hoseok, waiting for their answers, but all they did was look at their commander, they were with him till the very end. Jungkook sighed, letting his head rest back on the couch.  “I guess... We go back to our lives.” He finally spoke. You could tell there was a lot going through his head. Doubts, worries. “But you’re free to stay for as long as you like.” His gaze moved to you. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his softly, his eyes fluttering closed as you kissed him tenderly. It wasn’t an answer, but it was an appreciation.  After another hour, everyone started to retreat into their bedrooms, Jin and Jimin taking the first watch. You knew you were safe here, but Jungkook wanted to be sure, so for the first week, they’d take turns. Jungkook pulled you into his bedroom, he was tired, you could see it on his face. He was in his home, he could finally relax, you were safe.  Once you both changed, you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle, resting your head on his back, and taking in a deep breath. He turned in your hold, wrapping his large arms around your tiny frame and walking backward until the back of his legs hit the mattress. He didn’t even mind falling down onto it with you in his arms, he soaked in it. In the feeling of you.  “Thank you.” You whispered out, nuzzling into his neck as if your life depended on it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You repeated it like a mantra, feeling your throat burn, your eyes burn.  He soothed you, caressing his hand up and down your back, pulling you flush against him.  “You don’t need to thank me. I was just doing my job.” He whispered, pressing his lips to your temple.  “I love you.” You let out in a broken voice, feeling the weight of the world almost lift off your shoulders.  “I love you, little dove.” He searched for your lips, pressing soft, tender kisses to your lips over and over. And then you both stayed like that, in each other’s arms, until you were both asleep.  A routine settled during the first week. Jin and Jimin would take watch during the night and sleep during the day, Taehyung and Namjoon took the day shift. Yoongi, Hobi, and Jungkook decided to continue your training while you were there to keep up not only your strength but their own. It was almost domestic, waking up with Jungkook every morning, soft kisses and morning voices, morning sex - a lot of morning sex - and getting to watch them act more freely with each other. It truly felt like a family. Your new family. Namjoon left once the first week was over. You gave him a long hug, hard and thanked him for everything. He said you were always welcome to come visit him and talk art once everything was over. The second to leave was Jin, not before cooking the most delicious breakfast you ever had and hugging you as tight as he could. You almost cried once he left, but held your tears when he said that you knew what to do now, that he was proud of how far you had come.  Once the second week rolled around Taehyung and Jimin decided it was time for them to leave.  They were both by the door with their backpacks, a lingering sadness on their faces after spending so much time with you.  “I’m going to miss you.” Taehyung hugged you tight. This time you couldn’t help the tears hiding your face into his neck. You didn’t want him to go, you didn’t know when you would see him again. Hugging Jimin, you dried your tears and watched the men say their goodbyes to each other with long lingering hugs and a lot of shared thank you’s.  Once they took off you leaned against the door frame with the three remaining men. The three men that had been with you from the start.  “Hey, Yoongi, and I are going to collect some wood, want to come with us?” Jungkook took you out of your thoughts as you still looked at the empty road ahead of you, where Taehyung and Jimin had left.  “No, I’m fine, I think I’m going to rest for a while.” You said.  “Yeah, I could use a nap,” Hobi added.  “You two get some rest, we’ll be back soon.” Jungkook smiled, leaning in to peck your lips.  Once they’re gone, you sit on the couch, going through all your memories with the men that had left, deciding to lay down you feel something hard underneath you. It was Jungkook’s black notebook. You look at it for a while pursing your lips, your eyes moving to the front door before deciding to take a look.  You weren’t expecting what you saw.  They were sketches.  Some were of people you didn’t know, but you could make out the boys, Yoongi laughing, Hoseok sleeping. Namjoon seated on a rock, Jin with his arms wide open. Jimin doing pushups. Taehyung’s boxy smile. These were all sketches of Jungkook’s family. You flipped through the pages until once sketch caught your eyes. It was you, sleeping against a car window, your pants pulled down your legs. The second was of you smiling in the dessert, a fire in front of you. You flipped through the pages of more and more sketches of you in situations you remembered. Some of only the boys, some of you with them. Your face kept showing up again and again, and you realized why Jungkook didn’t have any pictures around his house.  Because he registered his favorite memories. You found yourself bringing your hands to your lips, more tears filling your eyes.  A knock to the door breaks the moment, your brows furrowing. Jungkook and Yoongi wouldn’t knock, perhaps it was Jimin and Taehyung back because they forgot something. You quickly made your way to the door, opening it without hesitation and a smile on your face, the smile, though, quickly disappeared when you were met with a familiar face you hadn’t seen since the day you met Jungkook.  “Phillip.” You breathed out, surprised by the sudden visit.  “Miss Y/L/N.” He smiled at you. “I’m so happy to see you well.”  You were speechless for a while, still standing at the door.  “Yes... I’m safe.” You said.  “I knew I had chosen the right team to take care of you.” He smiled wider. “Is Jungkook here, I wanted a word with him regarding the mission.” He looked past you, through the door.  “Oh... No, Yoongi and him went to get some wood, but they should be back soon, please, come in.” You made way for him to enter the house.  You shut the door and guided him towards the living room. He sat in one of the armchairs, smiling at you and you sat right across him.  “I can see you guys encountered some trouble.” He said, pointing at the scar on your shoulder, your fingers quickly lifted, tracing the outline of it as the memory came rushing back to you.  “Yes, we had some trouble, but... We pulled through in the end.” You said.  “And have you already decided what to do?” He asked, and you furrowed your brows. “Regarding Jefferson John, I mean, have you decided how you’re going to expose him?” He rested his hands on his lap, the same soft smile on his lips.  “Well, I recorded a video on my first week here... I just haven’t decided what to do...” You started. “Wait... How do you know about Jefferson John?” You questioned, you remembered clearly that you hadn’t told anyone other than the boys about your suspicion. “How do you...?” Suddenly you felt highly suspicious about Phillip showing up, you also remembered Jungkook telling you coming to his house was a last-minute call, how did Phillip know? You didn’t think Jungkook would have told anyone out of the circle.  You suddenly stood up. Backing away from the man, your back hitting the kitchen counter.  He didn’t say anything, instead, he stood and took two steps.  “You have to understand miss Y/L/N, the world is cruel, I’m just doing my job.” He said in a calm voice as if the meaning of those words didn’t indicate that he was going to kill you.  “W-why get a team to protect me, w-why go through all that trouble?” You spat at him, rage fueling in your veins.  “Oh, I had to make sure no one else got the hit, of course.” He said simply.  You blindly patted under the kitchen counter behind you, looking for the gun you knew Jungkook had hidden.  “I selected my best team to make sure an asset as valuable as you were protected, you must understand.” He reached for something on his hip and you heard the click of a gun behind him.  “Hobi!” Your eyes bulged once you saw the man with a gun pointed to Phillip.  “Ah, Hoseok, fancy seeing you here. I guess I miscalculated.” Phillip didn’t even look at him, only pursed his lips, putting his hand back down.  “Phillip, I really don’t want to shoot you,” Hoseok said between clenched teeth.  “That’s why you’re not in charge.” He said before you heard a loud shot come through the window, shattering the glass and hitting Hoseok right on the side of his body.  Your eyes bulged, a loud ripping scream of his name coming from you as you watched him fall unconscious on the floor.  Phillip took out his gun, pointing it at you.  “Stay where you are.” He said, walking backward and kicking Hoseok’s gun further away from his hand. Tears streamed down your eyes as they were glued to your friend’s form, blood soaking through his shirt.  “Now, where were we.” He looked back at you right before you heard gunshots in front of the house. Jungkook was back, you took the moment of Philips distraction to launch yourself forward onto him, hands gripping at his wrist where he held the gun, using your elbow to hit at his jaw and try to disarm him, but he was well trained and you, well, you were barely trained.  It happened fast, Jungkook barging into the house, pointing his gun at the man and you, back flush against Phillip, his arm around your throat and a gun muzzle pressed to the side of your head.  “Let her go.” Jungkook sounded dangerous. He sounded possessed. Sweat dripping down his face and a look of pure rage in his eyes.  “I thought you were smarter than this,” Phillip said, a disappointed tone to his voice.  “I said, let her fucking go, Phillip.” He growled out.  “What are you going to do, shoot me?” He questioned, raising a brow. “You work for me, put your gun down.” He scoffed at Jungkook.  But Jungkook remained in position, ready to shoot.  “Stupid boy.” Was all Phillip said. “Bring him in.” He shouted and from the door came Yoongi at gunpoint, a man in all black with a black mask pressing his gun to the back of his head.  Jungkook’s eyes bulged, looking from you to Yoongi. And right there you understood his internal battle.  “Put the gun down, Jungkook, you’re outnumbered. If you don’t your friend dies.” Phillip grinned.  “Jungkook, don’t put the gun down.” Yoongi warned and hissed when the armed man pressed the gun harder onto his head, spitting out a “shut up”.  He looked at you, ultimate dread in his eyes. And right there you understood what he had said in the desert. When you’re in this line of work, people you love can be used as leverage. Your head went back to the memories you both had shared, to his black notebook. You were happy, he had made you happy, you could see it in his eyes, filling with tears, with dread. Fear, ultimate fear, and grief, one he knew he would feel.  You swallowed the hard lump in your throat as tears streamed down your face.  “It’s ok...” You said. “It’s ok, it’s not your fault.” You reassured him, nodding in the man’s tight hold. “I love you... Thank you for letting me love you, thank you so much for l-letting me love you.” He shook his head, the silent tears falling down his cheek. You could see him tremble.  “Jungkook, please, please don’t fucking do this,” Yoongi argued, receiving a strong hit to his side.  “Put the gun down, Jungkook... It’s ok, I love you.” You watched his stance falter, and you closed your eyes, ready to embrace what was coming next.  You heard the familiar sound of gunshots, the familiar feeling of something hitting you, but not in the head, almost just like the first day, and your body slumped down to the floor, the pain radiating all through your body before you blacked out.  n/a: see you in the next and final chapter of Raven Unit. 

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 4

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2846

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Shy!Reader, angst, John is number one douchebag, talk of escort services, language, I think that’s it y’all.

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

“Relax, you're gonna be just fine.” Dean said soothingly as he stood in the doorway of your small apartment bathroom, watching you fuss over your makeup. 

Giving him your best bitch face in the mirror, you check your hair one more time before turning to him, letting your arms fall to your sides in a huff. 

“Well, I guess it’s gonna have to do, because this is as good as it’s gonna get.” you tell him, fighting the urge to throw up, scream, and run away all in one. 

True to his word, Dean had stayed at your place all night, and even though you hated to admit it, you did feel a little more comfortable around him now that the two of you had spent all of last night, and most of the day, together. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what you were feeling as a whole. It did feel nice to cuddle with Dean last night, and it did help you a lot that he now knew you were a virgin, and didn't fire you from this strange job thing you had between you, or laugh in your face, but he was still a Winchester, and you were still in way over your head. 

If you fucked this dinner up today, you were both fucked, and that wasn’t something to take lightly.

Dean crosses the floor in one, maybe two strides, picking you up as if you weighed nothing at all, and sat you on the sink in your bathroom before slipping between your knees, his large hands on your waist in order to keep you from falling off, and your hands making their way around his neck to stay balanced. 

“I want you to do me something,” Dean said, leaning down and catching your lips in his in a swift peck to get your attention. “Stop worrying so fucking much!”

Leaning your head down on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and attempted to take a deep cleansing breath. You knew you were overthinking this.All you had to do is sit there and look pretty, much like at the party Friday night. 

Dean had gone over the “details” of your relationship over breakfast this morning, and now, at least, you had  a story of how you met. 

Dean had said since you were an accountant at JPMorgan, he would tell the family that he’d met you on one of his basic runs to the bank, and gotten your number.You were a few dates in, and had only been dating close to two months, which would explain the fact that you don’t know each other very well, and cover up the fact that you were still a little awkward around each other in some aspects. 

As far as the lack of job now, Dean said that you picked up a job as an editor for a local publishing company, and worked from home so that you could study graphic design on the computer. Something you always wanted to do. 

Dean also told you that he could help get you on at the publishing company to work from home reviewing different transcripts next week, so that everything would be legit. He also promised to pick up the slack in whatever money you needed, so that you would want for nothing, seeing as he was technically still your client, even though this had taken a turn far surpassing escort services, and client, clientele relationships. That ship sailed the moment that you had to be introduced to John fucking Winchester. 

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” you tell him, searching his mossy green eyes as he searched yours. 

“Pretty girl, you’re not gonna fuck this up. Everything is gonna be just fine, just follow my lead, nothing bad will happen, and I have already told you, I will pay you very well, you know that. “

Nodding your head, you let Dean give you another peck on the lips before helping you down off of the sink, and lacing his fingers in your own, leading you towards your apartment door, and down to his car that was parked on the street. 

When you came to a stop you couldn’t help but drool over the sleek black ‘67 Impala that was waiting for you both there. Dean gave you a smirk as he opened the door, his features shifting to an almost playful, boyish smirk that seemed to wash away some of the years that he held so close to the surface, yet so out of reach. 

“You like?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully. 

“Dude, she’s beautiful!”

“She’s my Baby,” he said, helping you off the curb and into the car, shutting the door, before jogging around to the  driver’s side. 

Baby purred to life, as Dean turned the key in the ignition, and pulled onto the busy New York street. Reaching over he grabbed your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

‘You can do this Y/N,’ you thought to yourself, ‘just act natural.’

God, you hoped you weren’t lying to yourself, because if you fucked this up, there was no word in any language that would describe just how fucked you were.

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

A short drive later, and Dean was turning onto an expansive estate in Upstate New York. Rolling hills with green grass, a long paved driveway, and a large house that looked more like a castle sitting on top of a hill greeted you as Dean pulled up in front of the house, and put Baby in park.

“Okay sweetheart, you ready?” Dean asked, giving you a reassuring smile as he put his hand on the door, ready to open it.  

“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him in what you hoped was a confident tone. Dean smiled at you, giving you a peck on the cheek and whispering in your ear.

“It’s already show time Y/N. People are watching and there are cameras everywhere, but it’s okay, I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you remember that.“

Nodding your head, you lean over and boldly give him a peck on the lips, which caused a grin to spread across his face. His eyes sparkled as he kicked the door open, and made his way around the car to open your door. 

You weren’t even out of the car all the way when Sam came to a stop in front of the two of you with Jessica in tow. 

“Dean, Y/N, It’s good to see you again.” Sam said, greeting you warmingly and Jessica smiled at the two of you. You managed to give Sam a tight, nervous smile as Dean pulled you closer to him. 

“Where is everyone Sammy?” Dean asks, turning Sam’s attention away from you, and to his older brother. 

“Out back in the garden. Dad said he wants to have dinner out there. He’s been in a mood all day, you know how he gets. He’s not happy about that deal that didn’t go over so well this week with you, so get ready for that.” Sam warned, and Dean let out a heavy breath. 

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Dean said, as he and Sammy started making their way towards the garden in the back part of the estate with you and Jessica in tow. Jessica gave you an encouraging smile as you both rounded the corner, and you wondered just how nervous you looked to her. 

You didn’t really have time to  speak to her before the booming voice of John Winchester crossed the lawns, as John, Rufus, and another man in a ball cap came into view. Rufus excused himself, heading towards the other side of the house, as the four of you approached the long table that was already set with plates, beers, and wine. 

“Dean, I was wondering where the hell you got off to when you got home from that job I sent you on, I should have known this pretty little thing would have had something to do with your disappearance.”

You blushed deeply as you hid slightly behind Dean, wishing John would find another target, and just leave you alone.

“Easy old man, you're gonna scare her off, and then I’ll be down to the only girl amongst all you boys.” Jessica chided, as she flopped down at a chair at the table. 

“Jessica, so nice of you to join us this evening.” John said, giving her the side eye before turning his attention back towards Dean, who was helping you sit down in a chair before taking a seat next to you, Sam sitting down next to Jessica.

“So boy. What the hell happened?” John asked, jumping right to business as waiters appeared out of nowhere and started plating food for everyone at the table. 

“He didn’t like your terms, so I executed the order you gave me before I left.”

“You could have at least tried to change his mind.” John said, taking a bite of his food, eyeing Dean like a wolf that was eyeing his pry. You hated the way he looked at Dean. Sure you didn’t know much about their business, but you certainly didn’t feel Dean deserved the way John treated him.

“That’s not really a conversation for dinner Dad,” Sam said, stepping in for his brother, “Dean’s the best we got. If he said the deal didn’t fly, it didn’t fly, it’s that simple.”

John gave Sam an irritated look, but didn’t press the issue.

“Oh, Y/N, where are our manners, so wrapped up with business and all that I almost forgot to introduce you to our guest! This is my friend Bobby. He’s going to be opening up a garage in the area, so he’s here scouting property, and Bobby, this is Y/N, Dean’s new girlfriend."

Bobby gave you a smile and a nod, but said nothing, letting the conversation fall away a little as everyone tucked into their food. What conversation did flow was a lot lighter. Sport, cars, family members that John hadn’t seen in a while.If you didn’t know better, they almost felt like a normal family. Almost. 

One thing you had to say for sure was that you did very much like Jessica.She bit no bones with the large, dangerous men at the table around her, and had no problem putting each and every one of them in their place if they needed it. Especially John. She was like Sam’s personal pitbull, and you made a mental note to make sure that you stayed on her good side. 

Soon enough the dinner was over, and Bobby had excused himself, saying he needed to get back to work, leaving only you and Jessica with the Winchesters. John wiped his face, and threw his napkin down on his empty plate in front of him, his eyes dancing across the table at Dean and you, a smirk that would make the devil blush on his face, as his dark gaze stuck on Dean. 

“Sammy, why don’t you take Jessica in the house and do something to entertain yourselves, I want to have a word with your brother and Y/N in private.” John said, and you saw Dean and Sam exchange a confused look as Sam and Jessica got up from the table, making their way towards the house. Dean shifted closer to you, lacing his fingers through yours to stop your hands from shaking. 

Whatever John had in mind to discuss with the two of you, you had a feeling that this was going to be uncomfortable at best, and humiliating at worst. 

When Sam and Jessica were no longer outside, John turned his full attention to the two of you. 

“So, Y/N. How long have you been seeing my son?”

Swallowing hard, you try to speak past the lump in your throat, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you would have liked it to.

“About two months.”

John nodded, biting his lip and running his hand over his beard. 

“Two months, hmm. So I assume you know by now the line of work our family does.” 

Dean made to say something, but the distinct sound of a gun cocking behind you made you both stop dead in your tracks. Your shaking became visible, but Dean stayed calm, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

“She knows in theory, but she doesn’t know any details.” Dean said, completely unbothered by the gun that was pointing at his back.

“Let the girl speak for herself Dean.” John said, leering at his son from across the table.

“I don’t know a lot sir, nor do I want to.” 

John nodded his head, chuckling to himself before reaching in his pocket and pulling out his phone, throwing it down on the table in front of you. The picture of Your Sugar Daddy app on full display. Your eyes went wide, and your mouth went dry. Even Dean sat up a little straighter next to you.

“You two want to cut the bullshit and explain this, because you know I don’t like to be lied to Dean.” He said, his voice dripping with venom. “Did you bring a fucking whore into my house Dean? To my dinner table?”

“No.” Dean said, eyes locked on his father.

“Then what the fuck is she doing on the site son?”

“It’s not like that.” Dean said, shifting in his chair.

“Really, because there are DM’s on this account asking her to escort you to your brother’s party last Friday night. Did you think I wouldn’t do a background check boy?”

Suddenly your brain that had turned to a mush of fear started working, an idea hitting you like a lightning bolt. 

“Roll play,” you blurted out, and both men looked at you with shocked expressions, before Dean’s became slightly amused. 

“That’s right father, it’s just, roll play, nothing more.” Dean said, licking his lips sensually, throwing his arm around you, and running his teeth over your ear, sending a visible shiver down your spine that landed somewhere deep in your belly.

The shock faded from John’s face, and pure amusement took its place as he clapped his hands together, throwing his head back in a laugh as the man with a gun behind Dean disappeared. 

“I’m sorry you two. For a moment I thought you were actually an escort.” John said, still chuckling to himself.

Dean gave a tight laugh, and you blushed deeper than you ever have in your life.

“Well father, my sex life isn’t something I like to brag about, I like to keep what happens in the bedroom between the two of us.”

John nodded, still looking very amused, but you thank any God that was listening that he bought it. 

“Speaking of your bedroom, that’s something else I want to talk to you about.” John said, and Dean sat back seriously in his chair.

“In order to keep your girlfriend safe, and keep the high table off of your ass, I want your girlfriend to move onto the estate with you.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, and Dean stiffened next to you.

“Dad, this is, sudden, I’m not sure that’s necessary. We’ve only been together two months.”

John raised his hand, stopping Dean mid sentence.

“It wasn’t a request. I expect you to have her completely moved in by tomorrow morning. I know you said she doesn't know a lot, but a little is too much these days.” 

You didn’t know whether you were going to cry or pass out, but John seemed to have sensed your upset state. Placing a hand on your shoulder as he came around the table that made your skin crawl, you leaned in closer to Dean.

“It’s for your protection Y/N. Trust me. Also it won't be so bad here! Most women would give up everything to find themselves in your shoes! Now Dean, take her and get her settled in, you can go and help her collect her things tomorrow.”

With that John left the two of you both sitting alone as the dark sky spread over the expansive lawn.

For just a moment you thought you were going to succumb to tears, but Dean’s hand around yours, lifting you from the table, and leading you through the house that would now be your home kept you grounded and in character.

Dean said nothing, just led you through the overly done halls, and rooms filled with expensive furniture. 

 You got to his bedroom. It was a large room with a fireplace of its own, the same expensive furniture that lined the whole house, and a huge king sized bed. With the door safely closed, you fell into his arms,letting the tears wash over you, and he let you cry it out, picking you up, and laying you down on the satin sheets that covered the bed. Shushing you, and kissing the top of your forehead. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

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[lifblogs]

The Chaos

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Explicit Pairing: Vi Moradi/Cardinal (non-con) Summary: Vi Moradi is being interrogated by Cardinal, and his anger needs a more personal outlet than the electrocution chair. She must not crack under interrogation, but what he has planned... Can she endure? WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

READ ON AO3

Cardinal’s glare held nothing like what Vi would have expected from a regular trooper—that bit of hatred and disgust towards a Resistance spy. No, this was something else. Something worse. He glared, a man with deep anger needing to put it somewhere. He wanted to hit her. It was written all over the stark lines of his admittedly charming face.

This was something that could be used, Vi told herself, even as a dark fear welled up in her belly.

Or maybe that was the paste he’d fed her, beginning its battle with her stomach. She hoped it was that. Because fear made you sloppy.

Yet she was afraid. Afraid of that remote he held (her eyes constantly struggled to not stray towards it), afraid that no one knew she was down here. Her heart rattled against her very bones, invading the soreness with that fear. But to add to it, to have it well up from deep within would ruin her.

“More water, please,” she requested, doing her best to make it sound like she was some sort of dinner guest talking to a waiter. Hell, Vi even managed to quirk one side of her mouth up in a smile.

Cardinal rolled his eyes, Iris beeping, and he came forward with the water.

“Slowly,” he warned her.

As a former citizen of Jakku, he certainly knew the struggles of dehydration.

Was this kindness? Or did he just not want this machine she was shackled to to kill her before he finished getting what he needed?

Vi drank, and then he pulled the water away, placing it down. He flipped the remote in his hand. It took everything in Vi to not flinch at that, but a shock of ice cold adrenaline shot through her, and she was wide awake, the pain from the currents he’d been recklessly sending through her now numbing.

Iris beeped some more, and Cardinal clenched a fist.

Uh oh.

He lifted the remote to waist-level and stared at it.

And stared at it.

Vi licked her chapped lips, body burning.

He stared.

Stared…

And he set the remote aside.

Pulse thrumming, the machine and Iris certainly picking up on it, Vi forced out, “What? Bored of your toy already?”

Vi did startle, her body flinching and fighting against the shackles, as Cardinal slammed a fist against his thigh.

A careful decision, she realized. He wanted to break things, wanted to smash his helmet into the floor, wanted to… Wanted to hit her, yes.

Maybe he’d be better at that than playing with that remote, putting the shocks too high too quickly, frying her.

Cardinal, motions quick and powerful with rage, set the remote down, and went over to her.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she tried to ask in a sweet croon despite how she wanted to shudder and shake. Tried to. Because the words never came out.

A fist rammed into her gut as soon as she opened her mouth, pushing on her diaphragm and viciously knocking the air out of her lungs. Abdomen throbbing, lungs pleading, head whirling, she collapsed against the machine.

Cardinal practically ripped her shackles off her, and when she thought he would back away and let her collapse face first to the floor, he caught her. Awkwardly. An arm slung about her, hand not sure what to grab to provide support. Other hand under her armpit. She sagged in his grip, and her feet and legs found the floor—that floor covered in others’ blood, as well as her own. Cardinal dragged her, and set her down on that floor.

Panting, staring up at him in surprise, Vi murmured, “I’ll just take a nap, then.”

“Tell. Me. And tell me now. I meet with General Hux tomorrow.”

“You can’t rush these things,” she got out.

He kicked her, right in the side. As she curled in instinctively, and twisted onto her side, he kicked her back, right above her kidneys.

A cracked scream left her in that dungeon where she wasn’t supposed to be with no one but this desperate man to hear her.

Before Vi could register what was happening, Cardinal was grabbing her throbbing body and turning her over onto her back. He climbed on top of her, straddling her, and grabbed her face so hard she knew she was going to bruise.

The hot anger in his eyes was enough to make her pained limbs weak. She could practically smell that anger from him, something deep, and personal. Cardinal needed personal.

And Vi was all there was.

Oh stars.

He brought their faces close together, growling, “You will tell me right now.”

She tried to speak, but his grip on her jaw was so tight that only gasping and scraping sounds left her. She could do it. She could tell him.

Or she could bite down on that false tooth in her mouth that hid an affide crystal. End it. Right here. Right now.

Before he—

There was the press of his armor against her, but the groan he let out, the tight shift of hips against her body, let her know of the hardness beneath it.

To be that angry, to see a girl where that anger could find release…

Maybe if she pretended to pass out…?

Vi tried that, but he only grabbed her harder, red-gloved fingers sliding across burned flesh.

A cry trickled from her throat, broken and—and lost, perhaps.

He shifted again, a grunt leaving him.

Iris was beeping loudly, probably a warning of some sort.

Cardinal snarled and then rose to his feet, grabbing Vi by the wrists and dragging her across the dungeon floor.

He brought her back over to that machine, and she hoped, and hoped.

Hoped to burn instead of rip and tear and break.

Instead of indulging that hope, Cardinal strapped her hands into where her feet had been, wrists at a horrible angle. Without her arms held up over her head horizontally, they barked in pain.

Cardinal began tugging off some of his armor.

Not all of it. But just enough.

Just enough to ruin her.

She pulled at her shackles now, no longer caring for the pain in her hands, and wrists. Not even caring in that moment if bone broke.

Yes, she’d been trained to undergo torture, to not break beneath the knife, but all the training they’d given her for this was being told it might happen. That was it. And she was already a woman who mucked about in the Outer Rim, so the might was already there. They’d explained why, of course—hatred, to claw information from them, as some sick form of release.

This was all three, clouded with anger. So much of it. This wasn’t just at Phasma. This was what could happen to little boys left forgotten on far-away planets like Jakku—their loneliness, the things done to them by the other hollowed out people around them… They festered, becoming an unknown cruelty, a need of some sort.

For Cardinal, that need was filled by the First Order.

Or so it seemed they’d both thought.

Vi didn’t know what to do in this situation, how to play him, how to get out of this still able to function.

The pill.

Do it.

She could do it.

She had to do it.

She would, but… There’d been a chance, albeit just a glimmer of hope just edging into her vision, but a chance all the same.

“Cardinal!” she begged, voice sharp. “Cardinal, you do not want to do this! T-think about why you joined the First Order. That peace you wanted. N-not chaos.”

All he did was approach, and she kept trying to plead with him.

“Not this!” she cried, the word at the end barely a startled breath as he grabbed her hips and dragged her a bit closer.

Cardinal knelt over her now, huffing, and there was a panic in his eyes. Was he wondering what he was doing? Was he questioning?

If he was, it didn’t speak strongly enough because he started yanking at her patched-together pants.

Vi tried to get a leg free to kick him right where it’d hurt the most, but he only settled his full weight on her. The pressure left her breathless; the feel of him left her breathless.

She didn’t care that maybe in another time, another galaxy or whole other universe, she would have wanted to share something with him. What did any of it matter when he was going to take her against her will?

"Peace, Cardinal,” she tried to remind him, her voice a broken, pleading thing.

In a gruff tone, he responded, "Sacrifices must be made for one's ideals."

Oh yes, because this was a huge sacrifice for him. But she knew he saw it that way. Because he was a good man wrapped in First Order armor, caught up and twisted in propaganda. He was disciplined. He didn't have a single black check in his file. He was a good soldier. Good soldiers didn't do this to their prisoners.

So now he wasn't a good soldier.

And maybe Vi wasn't a good spy.

A stuttered, wordless shout left her, trickling into a whimper as Cardinal got her pants down off her hips. He scrabbled with her boots, her clothing, till she had nothing on below the waist. He was kneeling between her legs now, hands firmly gripping her sore thighs, surely adding bruises. She couldn't kick. She'd tried during that rushed struggle with her clothes, but it had been useless.

"Don't make me do this."

Vi wished she had more blood in her mouth just so she could spit it on him.

She spat anyway.

Cardinal slapped her.

And her plan had worked. With a leg now free from his grip she could lift it, twist her hip, kick him hard in the face. The chest would be nice since it was a great, big target, but he still wore his plated red armor. Still had those stupid gloves on too.

Hip barking in pain, torso stretching, left wrist scraping against her shackle, she got her leg up, but he smacked it back down with a firm fist.

Sharp, throbbing stabs radiated through her thigh in a circle, up to her hip, nearly down to her knee.

"Iris told me the machine will kill you," he spat. "I can't have that."

He lowered himself over her, face so close to hers that she could smell his breath. Oh, so pristine, just like the perfect, orderly way he likes things. Despite his words, despite that panic in his eyes that was calming, clearing, giving way to that need for any kind of touch, he still rubbed against her, still grunted at what he felt there.

"Please," he rasped.

It was almost as if he was begging for permission.

Permission to not hurt her, for her to hand over the information. Permission to do this, to be with her in the way she'd teased since the beginning.

Vi snarled, struggling with her shackles till she heard a crack. A sharp stabbing speared up her arm, down to her hand, wrapping all around. That pain was as bright as his red armor, as bright as the gloves that were on either side of her head.

And through that pain she saw what he had been, and she pitied that boy.

But she would not pity this man.

"No," she spat.

Cardinal attacked. His mouth found her jaw, her neck, teeth biting. Biting till she was crying out, and a hand managed to cover her mouth, muffling her voice.

Vi didn't know what to do without her voice. She couldn't talk, couldn't coax. She was almost nothing without it.

She screamed against that warm, red glove, the hand on her so large compared to her.

All of him was, it seemed.

After a vicious bite to where her shoulder and her neck met, blood welling up, he lifted himself up, pushing against her face slightly to do so.

Cardinal wasn't just going to rape her. He was going to brutalize her.

There was nothing she could do as he grabbed her legs, held her ankles together and up. She whined, tears leaking from her eyes till she couldn't see, as he surely took her in. The humiliation made her want to die. And she had the means. She did. But couldn't she survive this? Others had. Why couldn't she?

There was still more to get from this.

And there was still that sweater to finish for Baako, her brother. There were still those messages to answer. There was still a mission debrief with Leia Organa over a drink, hearing her general's warm, welcoming voice, her rich laughter.

Vi didn't bite down on the pill.

Cardinal, as rushed as usual, began to dig two fingers into her.

She screamed at that, mouth open wide. Her back arched.

He was going into her dry. Completely dry. She almost wished for the mortification of her body growing aroused from this. It'd make it easier at least. But no, there were just his gloved fingers pressing, and pressing, and pressing. No care for her whatsoever. None. Cardinal was doing what he thought he had to do to preserve a promise he'd been given, that Jakku would be looked after. That those lost children wouldn't be lost anymore.

Oh, how wrong he was.

How lost he was.

She tore, and wetness was gained through her blood. Its coppery scent leaked into the air.

His fingers worked in and out of her, and she almost bit down on the pill tooth by accident as she trembled, and thrashed, and screamed.

Her other wrist held strong against her shackles, but the broken one sent pain lancing up to her fingers with each brutal second.

Her voice even drowned out the beeps of Iris.

No, no, she tried telling herself. Ride it out. Ride it out like you were taught. You learned how to deal with pain. That's all this is. Pain.

But pain to some of the most sensitive areas of her body, to some of the most private, and intimate.

When he pulled his fingers out, the blood was darker than the color of his gloves.

"Information," he growled, as if he was barely more than an animal.

All Vi could do was cry. He shoved her legs aside, hip screeching in protest, a muscle in her abdomen tearing. He grabbed her face with that bloodied hand, grip so tight so his fingers wouldn't slide.

"Information."

Ride it out. Ride it out.

Vi tried to embrace the pain, accept it, like she'd been taught.

But there was no teaching this.

She tried to bite down, and then his fingers were prying her mouth open.

"Iris. Pliers."

She tried to shove against him, crying. But he held her mouth open.

The little, round droid came over, manipulator arm out with pliers he'd requested. And then suddenly all that cold metal was thrust into her mouth, cutting it up, as he was roughly poking around. One of her teeth zinged in bright agony, and then... Then the pliers found the pill tooth, maybe for its slightly different color, or graft marks around her gums where her actual tooth had been taken out and this had been put in its place. The pliers grabbed it. Then pulled.

Luckily it wasn't entirely like getting a real tooth pulled. There were no crying, weeping nerves connected up inside of it telling her something was happening, something bad.

But her body still warned her, as her gums ripped, the tooth pulled out.

Vi considered biting down in one last desperate attempt, but that would only damage her more. At this point she couldn't risk it. She needed her mouth to do her job, to live. Needed it functioning.

Somehow she was going to have to function after this.

Oh, karking kriff.

Then the pliers were out of her mouth and there wasn't a thing she could do.

"So you can't try that again," he told her, waving it in front of her tear-streaked face.

How he'd caught her in the first place, she didn't know. Maybe he knew her better than she realized. Knew her like she knew him.

Cardinal passed the pliers to Iris, and what the droid did after that, she didn't know. She became too wrapped up in the fact that Cardinal was undoing the straps and laces on his pants.

Kriff.

And then he was surely out because he was rearranging her legs again, and then there he was, hard, large, pressing against her, trying to get inside like he was kriffing welcome. Never.

Never.

He might've been. Oh, he might've been in a place where he didn't do this. Where he didn't abuse her so, but that little boy had turned into a monster and didn't even know it. He hid behind his mask, the mask of a good soldier. This atrocity would be hidden there, or it would break him, the mask not enough to contain it.

He pressed, and pressed, the head of his cock so big, and then with a hard push, he was inside.

Cardinal was inside of Vi.

Oh stars. Blast. Kriff.

For some unknown reason to her his thrusts started out slow. His eyes were even closed, head tilted back, groaning softly.

She wanted to yell at him, yell that this was her body, and not his to enjoy. She wanted to yell that he could get the hell out and find his way right out an airlock. That'd be nice. Real nice.

Vi no longer had thoughts of playing him.

Oh no, not as her own blood streaked her where he'd touched her, not as so much of her copper skin was bare in this dungeon where she remained a secret, not as he thrust.

Vi wailed, and let that wail grow into a shriek as he started working at her with a brutality that showed her the face of death.

Death smiled, but didn't take.

Cardinal took.

And took.

His hands were as rough as his hips, his large cock tearing her apart, hitting and abusing places inside of her that shouldn't be abused.

Those gloves seemed to touch her everywhere, and yet…

And yet…

Despite the torture, despite her injuries, despite all of it…

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was some form of survival, but pleasure creeped in.

It crawled, belly low to the ground, motions sinuous and slithering. It crawled its way up and down her spine, around her hips, slithering about her bones and in her core. It crawled into the heart of her, and into her throat, and told her it was time.

She came.

Came hard, juices flowing, Cardinal basking in it, moaning loudly, and taking, and taking, and taking.

Yet he wasn't done, even as he throbbed, all hot and hard, within her.

Vi cried and cried. She didn't care that he was part of the First Order and that he saw.

He knew the deepest part of her, so her tears were nothing. They were like water leading into the cave he'd already explored. Like the liquid that dripped from his thighs.

"Information," he tried again.

Vi didn't answer. There was no point. Surely with this much damage he couldn't hide her. She would be taken care of. She'd have time to work with this, even if she remained a prisoner of the First Order for some time, even if she had to start Baako's sweater all over again.

She would.

She'd knit Baako that sweater, she'd—

A hard thrust had his cock pushing right against her cervix, pain barreling around her hips in violent, unabating waves.

Too much. It was too much.

Her vision darkened on the edges, unconsciousness threatening.

A pulse, a throb, from him—as if he knew the pain he’d inflicted even with her voice nearly gone and her body weak.

“Water,” she pleaded, knowing he’d granted that request last time. “Water.”

Iris beeped, and—

He listened.

Thank the kriffing Force and all that reigned, Cardinal listened.

With reluctance he pulled out of her, and he fixed himself up enough to get the water for her.

She drank greedily when he returned with it, ignoring his gravelly orders of slowly. She drank it so fast she choked, and he was pulling it away.

“Give me what I want.”

“Is this what you want to do to Phasma?” she asked, not sure if it was to tease, or provoke. Not entirely sure where the question had even come from.

Fear clouded his eyes, guilt. They drowned that hatred, and Cardinal collapsed. He collapsed beside her broken body, and put his head in his hands.

Eyes blurry with tears, he looked up, looked at her. At what he had done...

The chaos.

His mouth gaped, a tear fell down that well-aging face, tracking from his cheek, and around to his jaw, before it dripped to his bloody armor.

“Vi…”

“Fix this,” she said, voice only a whisper.

For a moment, he shook his head, the motion barely imperceptible, and then he paused.

“Fix this.”

Please.

Cardinal rushed over, but not in that brutal, pushing manner of his. It was in horror, maybe even concern.

He held her face, touch so gentle. So, so gentle that she moaned against it, the sensation wholly new.

“Vi, tell me what to do.”

“Fix. This.”

She was slipping away into sleep. Perhaps from the pain, or perhaps from the blood loss. But it was there, right at the edge of her consciousness, beckoning with a warm hand.

“I’ll be court martialed. I… I could be executed.”

“Then… Then help me, and run. Go… Go back and save Jakku. Save that little boy you were.”

“I—I…”

“Cardinal. Please.”

Determination drew stark lines on his face, but lines that spoke of the tender-hearted warrior he’d been, twisted and used by an order that wanted to rule the galaxy with fear.

“I will.”

Vi—still an unknown woman in a dark dungeon—was pulled into soothing darkness, Cardinal’s gloved hands softly caressing her cheeks the last thing she knew.

[emachinescat]

Ghost + Bomb + Mac - Hands

A MacGyver Fan-fiction

By @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 4 - impaling

Summary: The Ghost survives the confrontation in the catacombs and pursues his cruelest revenge. Even the simplest of bombs can be impossible to defuse without the use of one’s hands.

Characters: MacGyver, The Ghost, Jack, Phoenix team as family

Words: 5,333

TW: graphic violence, blood, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or read on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging! :)

Previously, on MacGyver…

Mac’s head rushed with the thrill of victory and breathlessness at the close call.  Wrapping Riley and Bozer into a hug, he squeezed tightly, only halfway believing that they’d done it, that the bomb was disarmed - he couldn’t have done it without his friends.

The Ghost was dead - that was even harder to believe.  Everything that had happened since he’d been knocked out and dragged deep into the catacombs was a blur, yet he could somehow see every detail with crystalline clarity.  Wait until he told Jack - the Ghost was dead, was never going to hurt or kill anyone ever again!  

“What do you say we get out of here?” Riley asked, her smile shining all the more brightly against her dirt-smudged face.  It was infectious. 

Mac laughed.  “Please.”  He turned back, one last time, for closure, perhaps, to say goodbye in a sense to this chapter of his life.  He would never forget, and nothing would bring Peña back, but the nightmare was over.  The Ghost that had haunted him for so long was finally laid to rest.

He froze, every muscle in his body tensing, disbelief and rage and indignance hitting him full-force like a tsunami.  This couldn’t be happening.  The Ghost was dead.  He’d watched Eileen kill him.  But then, directly after, he’d had to figure out how to disarm a bomb that was too heavy to lift.  He and his friends had been entirely occupied, for how long he wasn’t sure.

Long enough for an injured man to drag himself back into the labyrinth and make his escape, it seemed.

The Ghost was gone, and just like his moniker suggested, he seemed to have faded into the ether, almost like he was never there.  Even the blood trail didn’t go on very long.  And by the time they had gotten back to the surface and Riley was able to run an exhaustive search of the area, he’d disappeared.

Perhaps he had died from his wounds, Bozer suggested lamely.  But Mac knew better.  Fate, as it were, might be kind to some people, but for some reason he’d been on its shit list for a long, long time.  Mac knew the truth: as surely as he knew that he wouldn’t be getting a moment of sleep tonight, he knew that this wasn’t over.

The Ghost was still out there, and with a shudder Mac remembered what he’d said down in the catacombs.  A bomb, especially for Mac, hidden somewhere out there in the world, waiting for him to find it.  He had a nasty feeling that it was now going to find him first.

***

Eight Months Later

Mac woke up slowly to a killer headache, what felt like a mouth full of cotton, and the very urgent realization that he couldn’t move.  He knew almost instantly that he had been drugged.

Opening his eyes was a challenge, as his eyelids had glued themselves shut - perhaps because they knew that the moment light hit them, the headache would only get worse.  There were more pressing matters, though, namely that Mac had no idea where he was, how he got there, or who had done this to him - the last thing he remembered was falling asleep on his couch well after midnight. And in order to get an answer to these questions, he would have to open his eyes.

He was right about the headache.  It intensified the second the dimly room swam into focus, his stomach roiled, and he almost lost his lunch as the world warbled around him like it was underwater.  Thankfully, he managed to gain control over the nausea and was able to get a better look at the predicament he found himself in.  What he saw was not encouraging.

He was sitting in a rigid dining chair, slightly slumped but held up by something - was that his own belt? - wrapped around his chest and securing him to the high chair back.  His wrists were enclosed in a set of cuff-like clamps that had been attached to the small wooden table his forearms rested on.  His shoulders ached a little from his arms being in the same position for who knew how long, but overall he wasn’t injured and the measures his captor had taken to restrain him were unimpressive to say the least.  He figured he would be able to free himself within fifteen minutes, tops - ideas were already beginning to form in his head as he peered around at the rest of the room and what it had to offer.

He was in what looked like a gray, dirty basement.  The lighting was terrible, that eerie haze of illumination that hovered just above your head, not quite making it to the floor. A sat phone lay on the edge of his table, just out of reach.  

The only other thing in the room was a large cart, the kind that waiters or caterers often used at big events.  Something rested on the surface, but whatever it was had been covered up by a small tarp.  It could have been anything - a toolbox, a typewriter, a record player - but he knew it was something far more sinister.

Before he could finish formulating a plan, let alone set that plan into motion, a voice spoke up from the back corner of the room, and Mac realized with horror that he’d not been alone this entire time.  The horror was tenfold when he recognized the lilting Irish accent tasting his name as if it were something distinctly unpleasant.

“Hello, Mr. MacGyver.”

Mac swallowed heavily, forcing himself to remain calm outwardly while inside his heart tumbled over itself like a shoe thrown in a dryer.  He’d been dreading this moment for a long time now, his reunion with the Ghost, but he’d always hoped he’d have the upper hand.  Tugging experimentally once more at the cuffs clamping his wrists to the table’s surface, he realized that at the moment he didn’t actually have any hands at all.

The Ghost moved forward, closer to Mac, but Mac didn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to crane around and see the oncoming threat.  The man was playing with his fear, his footsteps slow, each one purposefully placed, building up the anticipation.  He stopped right behind Mac - his breath was warm and muggy as he whispered in Mac’s ear, “I’ve been looking forward to this for a very long time.”

He came around the front of the table, and he looked much the same as he had the last time they’d met, except maybe thinner with more pronounced bags under his eyes.  Mac gleaned that his recovery had been long and hard.  He didn’t respond, just channeled every ounce of rage and revulsion into the glare he sent the Ghost’s way.

The Ghost laughed, a strange, haunting sound.  “I suppose you feel rather different about this meeting, though?”  

Mac quirked an eyebrow and shrugged the best that he could with the restraints.  “I mean, can you blame me?”  He prayed that his bravado held strong; it felt like it was all that stood between him and his own personal hell.  It wasn’t fair, he thought bitterly - why did the people who tried to take everything from him keep coming back?  Hadn’t they stolen enough already?

Mac nodded toward the phone resting before him.  “So what’s that for?” he asked.  “Catching up with the fam?  Does Eileen know you’re still alive?  If not, you should call her up, give her a chance to fix her mistake.”  Though he didn’t really want to know what the Ghost had planned for it - or for him - he hoped that if he nudged the man to start talking, he might be distracted enough for Mac to attempt some kind of escape.

The Ghost didn’t rise to the bait at Mac’s taunt.  Instead, he grinned a grin that set Mac’s nerves on edge and offered up a frankly surprising piece of information.  “Do you know that your team is on its way here to fetch you at this very moment, MacGyver?”

Mac narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  If this were the case, why would the Ghost be so calm?  Why would he still be here at all, and why was Mac still breathing?  

Seeing Mac’s confusion, he nodded sagely.  “Oh, yes - they tracked me the moment I initiated contact with them.”

Mac growled, “If you’re leading them into a trap…”

“No trap,” the Ghost assured, and Mac was anything but.  The man was acting unpredictably, and for a man who thrived off of routine and had a very strict M.O., it was enough to set Mac ill at ease.  “But we are a bit off the beaten path, you and I. It's going to take them a while to get to you. But they will arrive, unharmed.”

Mac scoffed, understanding immediately where this was going.  “Right, when the place is reduced to rubble and I’m beyond help.”

“No, no, no, Mr. MacGyver - see, this is it.  This is the one.”

Mac knew instantly what he was referring to.  “The bomb you left out there for me, the one you expected me to find.”  He’d had his suspicions about what lay on the cart for a while, and now they were confirmed.  “What happened - you got so impatient you had to arrange the meeting?”

The Ghost smiled wryly.  “Something like that.”  Mac had nothing against the Irish language, nor the accents it produced, but the harsh consonants of the Ghost’s words hit his ears like the crack of a pistol.  Or maybe it was just the person who spoke them that made his skin crawl.  “But never mind that - you may not believe this, MacGyver, but I respect you.  I do!” he insisted at Mac’s snort.  “You’ve proven yourself a worthy opponent, so I’m going to give you a chance for survival.  If you succeed, your friends will be here to bust you out and you’ll never see or hear from me again.”  Mac’s stomach twisted.  The only way the Ghost would ever make such a generous offer was if he truly believed that there was no way that Mac could succeed.

Good thing Mac had a habit of proving murderous psychopaths wrong.

“What’s the catch?” Mac asked.

“There’s no catch,” said the Ghost.  He walked over to the cart, removed the covering with a flourish, and whatever Mac had expected to see - this wasn’t it.

It looked to be one of the simplest devices that he had ever seen.  Even a child could disarm it if they had the tools.  And, to Mac’s growing discomfort - something was so wrong here - he saw the tools that he would need, laid out neatly on the cart, right next to the bomb.  

“It’s rigged,” Mac said.  “There’s no way it can be that simple.”

“But it is,” said the Ghost, his face unreadable, his tone giving nothing away.  “I want you to have a fair chance, after all.”

“Given what you know I can do, that’s a little insulting.”

“My, you are ungrateful,” the bomb-maker growled.  “I blow up your commanding officer, and it’s too much, I give you an easy out, it’s too little.  Maybe we should meet somewhere in the middle?  Who’s someone I can blow up that will hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough?  What about Desi Nguyen, hmmm?  She took the place of your precious Dalton, didn't she?”

Mac didn’t give the man the dignity of a response.  The fire in his eyes said it all.  The Ghost sighed.  “You know what, just to prove my good faith to you, I’ll leave you alone in just a moment.  And beyond that, I’ll free your wrists!  Then it’s just a matter of unbuckling the belt around your chest, making your way across the room, picking up those very precise tools, and using them to disarm a very delicate device.  Easy peasy, as you Americans say.”

Something in the way he spoke of the tasks ahead made Mac’s skin itch with discomfort.  He couldn’t put his finger on what the Ghost had planned, but whatever it was, it was the opposite of good.  Mac tugged his wrists again, feeling cool metal rub painfully against the already raw skin, but there was no give.

“Oh, you know what?” the Ghost spoke up, a quasi-contrite expression on his conniving face.  “I almost forgot - there is a wee, little catch to this whole affair.  Just a bit of added challenge, for old time’s sake.”

Mac’s pulse beat wildly, and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead despite the chilly air.  What the hell was this lunatic planning?

And then everything kicked into fast-forward - what happened next was so quick, so unexpected, that Mac didn’t even realize that it had happened until it was over, and twin daggers were driven into the tops of his hands, through flesh and muscles and tendons, and thudded firmly into the wood below.

At first he didn’t feel anything.  And then he felt everything.

Mac couldn’t help it.  He screamed.

Over the raw, shrieking pain of split skin and parted muscle and the rushing in his ears and the pain and the panic clawing at the inside of his chest, he saw the Ghost lean over him, sensed the click of the lock as the clamps around his wrists were released, and vaguely heard the Ghost repeat his own words, this time with a mocking, sadistic twist: “It’s only a matter of unbuckling the belt around your chest, making your way across the room, picking up those very precise tools, and using them to disarm a very delicate device.  Easy. Peasy.”  He added, voice positively gleeful, “Starting now, you have ten minutes.  Good night - ah, I mean, good luck.”

And then he was gone.  Mac didn’t see where he went and didn’t know where the door was and didn’t care and was going to be sick - 

Wrenching to the side, Mac vomited, the motion pulling at his impaled hands and causing him to gag anew.  When he’d finished, the sour smell curdled his stomach further and he realized with some concern that only one of his hands was hurting now - the right one.  A large portion of the left one had gone completely, terrifyingly numb.

Composing himself the best he could, pain radiating from his mutilated hand and racking through his entire body, he examined the damage through tear-blurred eyes.  It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it almost sent his stomach over the edge again.

The good news was that while some blood had pooled around the entrance - and exit, he presumed - wounds, blood loss was not a big concern at the present.  The knives were stemming a large portion of blood flow.  The bad news was that the bomb - one he could normally disarm in less than a minute, easily - was set to go off in less than ten minutes - it had to be closer to nine now - and he had been effectively stapled to the table by his hands.  Despair flooded him, nearly choking out the agony.  Almost.

He knew what he would have to do in order to even have a chance to escape and disarm the bomb, and it terrified him.  Leaning forward as far as his belt would allow, he peered at the macabre visage of his own hands - his hands, his job, his life, what if the damage was permanent, he needed his hands (his breaths came in short, desperate pants), and it hurt more than anything, more than pulling a coffin out of a lit incinerator, more than a gunshot wound in the leg, more than anything (breathe, calm down, you can do this, you have to do this).

It was as he’d thought - the knives were long and thin, so the hilts were not flush with his flesh.  About two inches of each blade remained, and they, along with the hilt themselves, were how he was going to get his hands free.  Essentially, he was going to have to lift one of his hands up so that the top of the hand was pushing up against the bottom of the hilt.  It hadn’t sounded like the knives had been driven too deeply into the wood of the table below, so he most likely wouldn't have to put too much upwards pressure on the hilt.

The real issue came with how the knives widened closer to the hilt, which meant he would not only be shoving the knife through already raw and shredded muscle, but he would actually be enlarging the wound - the pain of which he didn’t even want to consider - and risking further damage.  Already he feared what the Ghost had done to him, even if he survived - what if he could never use his hands again?  

No, focus.  The future beyond the next eight minutes doesn’t matter right now, because if you don’t get it together and do what has to be done, there will be no future.  A small, ugly part of his mind snapped back, Maybe it would be better that way, because if he couldn’t use his hands, then what was he?  He shoved that terrible thought away and forced himself to work past the agony he was already drowning in and that which was surely to come.  One thing at a time.

He found himself very tempted to enact his plan with the hand that was already mostly numb - after all, he wouldn’t feel the knife slicing deeper.  But there was a big problem with that - a rough sob choked out of him at the building crescendo of anguish that wracked from his hands, up his arms, and throughout his whole body when he attempted to move the fingers on each hand.  And that was the first problem: Although he could move all fingers except for the index with great pain and difficulty on his right hand - thank God, somehow the blade must have managed to avoid all extensor tendons except the one - the middle and right portions of his left hand were numb and the only finger on that hand that he could move was the pinky.  He tried very hard not to consider the extent of nerve and tendon damage done and whether or not they could be repaired.  That meant that even if he did use his left hand to push the knife up and out of the table, he wouldn’t be able to use that hand at all, and he’d be back to square one.

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed - the Ghost must have taken his watch when he captured him - but he knew that the minutes were racing ahead faster than he could catch them.  If he wanted any chance of disarming that bomb, he would have to move now.

In the end, he had to approach it like he did jumping out of a plane or scaling a tall structure.  Without wasting any further time contemplating what was going to happen, without trying to prepare himself or psych himself up for the pain that was to come, he wrenched his right arm up as fast as he could, and it seemed that he could feel every fiber of muscle tearing as his impaled hand traveled up the length of the blade until it rested against the hilt.  A horrible sound erupted from deep within him, something foreign and unexpected and wrong, but still he wrenched the hand up and for a terrifying moment he thought that it was too firmly stuck in the wood as he was rapidly losing strength and black spots flickered across his vision and he couldn’t pass out, not now, he was so close - 

And then the tip of the dagger parted from its wooden sheath and somehow he managed to hang onto consciousness by the thinnest of threads.  Knowing that he truly could not afford to lose any momentum now that he’d started - how many minutes left?  Three?  Two? - he brought his hand to his face and awkwardly but efficiently used his teeth to pry it free.  He was left with a gaping wound but thankfully he still had four working fingers, and the blood was flowing freely now, unfettered by the blade, he had to move fast. 

In less than a minute, he’d managed to find enough strength in his mangled right hand to pull out the remaining knife and clumsily unbuckle the belt around his chest, the metal now slick with blood - there was blood on the table, running down his palms and soaking into his shirt sleeves and plinking on the floor as he forced himself to his feet and then promptly lost a short but ferocious battle with his stomach.  

Never had he ever wanted to give up so badly.  After all, how could anyone expect him to do what had to be done now?  He could feel the shock setting in, he was continuing to lose blood rapidly, one hand was almost completely useless, and the other was like a medical pump, except instead of morphine it dispensed only unbearable pain.  He thought about the floor, how it was probably a lot less uncomfortable than it looked, and how even now the darkness was eating away at the corners of his vision so that he would probably pass out before the bomb exploded…

But then he thought of his friends, his team - Riley, Matty, Boze, Desi, maybe even his dad, and Jack, who was so far away but who was counting on Mac to still be alive and thinking when he returned - and he knew that he couldn't just give in.  He had to try, for them.  Even if he failed - which was a very real possibility - at least he would be fighting to see them again, and that was, at least, something.

So he tucked his hands into his armpits as tightly as possible in a futile attempt to stem the blood flow and forged forward, focusing on one foot in front of the other, staving off the dark with everything he had left, feeling the warm blood from his hands running down his sides and fighting nausea at the stench of tang and iron.  He fell a few feet from the cart but dragged himself forward on his knees, then used his right hand, pain exploding, to pull himself up to roughly eye level with the device.

It was so simple, and the time read 00:01:05.  Normally, it would be no problem.  But his hands were almost completely out of commission.  He couldn’t do it, there was no way he could disarm this bomb in that amount of time when he could barely use his hands, let alone wire cutters or pliers.

Well, at least he had tried.  He swayed where he knelt, ready to give in to the darkness and the end.  And then --

A pounding from somewhere behind him, on the other side of the door, wherever that was.  A voice, frantic, muffled, screaming his name, “Mac!  Are you in there?”

“Riles?” he mumbled, barely able to form the words.  His mind was sluggish, and he was cold, and glancing down blearily at the timer, it had gone down to 00:00:50.  It took every effort to raise his voice enough to be heard, “Get out of here!  It’s about to go off!”

“Not without you!” Desi’s voice called, and he’d never heard her sound so desperate.  

“Mac!  Either get the hell up out of there, or disarm the damn bomb!” Bozer shouted.

“Don’t you dare give up on me now, Blondie.”  Matty had the steel in her voice that brooked no argument.

“Working on hacking the electronic lock now,” came Riley’s voice, and the timer read 00:00:38.

“You don’t understand,” Mac protested.  “I can’t - you’ll die.”

But he knew the awful truth - even if they turned and ran now, it would be too late.  They would never clear the blast in time.  Because he wasn’t strong enough, because he gave in to the pain and the shock and the lull of nothingness, they would die.

No.

Painfully, Mac reached out and grasped the pliers between his three working fingers and thumb in his right hand.  He had no idea how he managed it, but by the time the clock had reached 00:00:20, he had separated the wire he needed to cut.  His head swam and he shivered and blood coated the surface of the bomb and the pliers were sticky with it.  The wire cutters were a bit easier to use.  Once he got them situated in his hand, which still hurt like hell but didn’t really feel like it was a part of his own body anymore, it was just a simple snip.  He almost cut the wrong one.  All the wires were red now.

The moment before he cut the wire, he realized that the Ghost might have lied and set up a secondary device.  He wasn’t one to stray from his M.O.  Come to think of it, though, he hadn’t seen a camera, either, and that was also one of the bomb-maker’s signatures.  Well, he thought as he cut the wire, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.  

In fact, nothing did.

The second it was cut, the tool clattered from his hand and he slumped forward, passing out right on top of the defused bomb.

Seconds later, the door burst open and his team, along with a dozen agents in full tactical gear, barged in to see something that would never, ever leave them - and that they would have nightmares about for the rest of their lives.

Mac half stood, half slumped over a bomb on a cart, face translucent, lips tinged blue, blood everywhere - there was a trail of it leading from a table upon which had been discarded two bloody knives - and when they moved Mac’s too-still, barely breathing body off the bomb and laid him out on the floor, elevating his legs and applying pressure bandages to his horrifically maimed hands, the timer read in great red letters 00:00:02.

***

Six Weeks Later

“How’re ya hangin’ in there, hoss?” the always-welcome voice of Jack Dalton drawled.  He sounded chipper enough, but there was a heaviness in his words, and Mac wished not for the first time that video calling was an option wherever Jack was at.  He supposed he should be grateful that he was getting to talk to him at all, though.

They hadn’t been able to contact Jack until two weeks after Mac had nearly lost his life - and then possibly the use of his left hand - to the Ghost.  To say that Jack was enraged was a vast understatement, and he almost abandoned his entire mission, almost went AWOL, just to get back to his partner.  He knew how devastated and traumatized Mac would be, and it killed him.  He’d been persuaded to stay where he was, because if he didn’t, he’d be crossing all kinds of lines and could get into serious trouble that could significantly delay when he’d be able to actually come home to his boy for good.

Mac sighed.  “Better, I think.  You’re not on speaker phone, you know.”

The excitement in Jack’s voice infected even Mac, who’d been unusually subdued and distant from the moment he’d woken up in Phoenix’s hospital.  “You’re holding the phone?  Atta boy, this physical therapy stuff’s no joke!”

Mac couldn’t help but grin, a bit of pride in his voice.  “And I’m holding it with my left hand!”

Jack whooped a whole-ass yippee-ki-yay and Mac actually laughed.  This was more than Jack could have hoped for, as the last time he’d been able to talk with Mac his kid had been miserable and drugged up, fresh out of his third reconstructive surgery, this one to remove dead nerves and graft in new ones.  Of course, Jack had kept up with Channel Mac News (as he lamely called it) via other means of communication - texts and radio messages and even the odd telegraph - but it was so good to hear the kid’s voice, to hear him speak of his progress.

“Yeah,” Mac chuckled, his voice lighter than it had been in a while.  “I’ve got most of the feeling back now, thanks to the incredible specialists Phoenix flew in.”  He sobered.  “But even they are not optimistic that I’ll regain full range of motion or finger articulation in that hand, though.”

“Well, you’ve proved plenty of doctors wrong before, dude.  But even if you don’t get your elocution back--”

“Articulation.”

“Whatever.  Even if you don’t get that back completely, that doesn’t make you any less you.  You hear me, hoss?”  And now Jack was using his serious voice as he went into a speech he’d been practicing for nearly a month.  “Even if you got the news that you could never use your hands again, you’d still be Mac.  It don’t matter if you’ve got one working hand, or two, or none - it ain’t your hands that give you value.  It’s what’s in here.”

Mac couldn’t help but smile.  “You know I can’t see where you’re pointing, right, Jack?”

“You know full well where your worth is, brother,” Jack responded, not even rising to the bait.  “It ain't in your hands or even your brains - no one would love you less without them, and you’d still be the most important person in the world to me.  You gotta learn to love yourself no matter what.”

Mac blinked at the sudden rush of moisture to his eyes and cleared his throat.  “Thanks, man,” he said, his voice gruff.  Then, to lighten the mood - “Being on this mission sure has made you sappy,” he joked.  “Remind me why I’m going to therapy when I’ve got you to unlock the secrets of the soul?”  He’d been forced by his entire team to talk to a Phoenix-sanctioned psychologist two times a week.  Though he fought it at first, he had to admit that Dr. Frasier had given him some helpful techniques to work past the worst of the panic attacks, and that he’d gradually felt more like himself after each session.

He could hear the grin in Jack’s voice, could see it perfectly in his mind’s eye.  “What are you talking about, man?  Ol’ Jack’s always been in touch with his emotions.  Ain’t nothing wrong with that - I learned that from my pop.”  

Muffled voices from the other end of the call signaled that their talk was coming to an end.  Jack had to be heading out soon, back on the trail of the killer that had torn their team apart.  

“Hey, bud--”

“I know,” Mac interrupted, and even though his hand was shaking with the effort of holding it to his ear for so long, he didn’t change hands or put the phone on speaker.  A brief pause.  He asked the question he always did every time he talked to Jack, but this time even he could tell that his voice was more wistful than usual: 

“When are you coming home?”

And Jack responded the way he always did, and even though Jack hadn’t come home yet, Mac believed him, because he knew that Jack was doing everything to return safely to his family as soon as possible.

“Real soon, brother.”

“Hey, Jack?”

“Geez, kid, I’m on a schedule,” Jack complained, but Mac heard the smirk in his voice.

“When you get home,” Mac promised, determination to keep healing, to beat the odds, welling up inside of him, “I’m going to beat you in an arm-wrestling contest.”

Jack laughed.  “There’s not one part of me that doubts it, kiddo.”

Though Mac couldn’t see it, Jack wiped a tear from his eye as he hung up and went back to join his team with the biggest smile on his face he’d had in a very, very long time.

[babbushka]

Each Eye (7/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Reader

5.8k ; Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Blood, Gore, Murder

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

The tea you had chosen was a five course, three hour affair. You had figured that would be plenty of time to charm and chat, to catch up and gossip like normal people do. It was what everyone around you was doing, at the very least.

The Turkish afternoon set was very charming, and reminded you of all the wonderful memories you had with Kylo, going abroad to the gorgeous vacation home in Turkey that he owned. He had properties all over the world, but that was definitely one of your favorites, and it made the afternoon much more enjoyable.

The tea itself was brought out in a golden camel teapot, which you thought was only a little tacky, in that way that overly luxurious places tended to be. In addition to the tea though, there was a rosewater lemonade that was brought out with the first course.

Since it was only the first, the portions were small, but you didn’t care too much. You knew you’d be full by the end of it. Dried fruits and nuts decorated a golden tray, and you were careful to clean your teeth of the dried apricots and figs when you asked,

“NYU or Columbia?”

Rey hadn’t been expecting that question, clearly, if the way she coughed around the sweet walnuts was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, soothing her throat with some of the tea, the Dunes de Sahara that she was currently on her second cup of.

“Tax law, isn’t it? Are you at NYU or Columbia?” You clarified, really wondering if there would ever be an instance that she would just use her own context clues so you wouldn’t have to go repeating yourself all the time.

“Oh, Columbia.” She replied, dabbing her mouth with the linen cloth and reaching for the dried dates.

“You have a full schedule, I’m assuming.” You nodded, and she sighed.

“Yes. It’s very, pardon my pun, taxing.” Rey chuckled slightly at her own joke. If you weren’t so suspicious of her, then you might’ve laughed too. “I’m enrolled in the maximum amount of classes, currently. Although the drop period hasn’t passed yet, so I might lighten the load a little, depending.”

There was no way you could envision her dropping a class normally – you knew how she had been in high school when you both attended together. You saw how she took on more classes than anyone else, more after-school extracurriculars, more clubs.

Her dropping a class was only more reason to believe that she was doing something, something that was going to cause another schism in the family, something that was going to start another war – and you had proof.

You only needed her to admit it.

“Well then I am extra glad that this worked out. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your studies for too long, but it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together.” You commented.

“I don’t think I’ve actually ever spent time with you like this.” Rey said quietly, “The two of us alone, I mean.”

You both knew why, you knew. It wasn’t hard to guess, what with the way she had gone after her brother, what with the way she was so hell bent on killing him, that night so many years ago.

You took a sip of your tea, and smiled falsely at the waiter when they removed the golden tray of the first course, and replaced it with the second.

On top of a crystal dish were filo puff pastries filled with lamb and feta cheese, pistachio finger-cakes, and crackers with dates.

“Kylo’s very protective, isn’t he. When I went to Columbia he enrolled in all the same classes just to put himself at ease.” You said, reaching for one of the pastries, placing it on your pretty plate and using the polished silverware to cut into it.

“You’re an alumnus?” Rey’s hand froze as she reached for her own pastry, and you smiled.

“Of course, didn’t you know?” You asked, paying her body language no visible mind, “Spent quite a lot of time in Arthur W. Diamond.”

“Me too, there and the library.” Rey said, and you did glance up at her then.

“That is the library.” You blinked, watching.

She knew, you could tell she knew, that she was fucked.

You only were trying to prove a point. She knew that too.

“Oh, yeah, right, that’s what I meant.” She said unconvincingly, busying herself with the pastry, cutting it into many pieces of exactly the same size and shape, a nervous habit.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go back and get a secondary degree, maybe another masters, I don’t know. Is Professor Carmichael still there? I loved taking classes that professor taught, we became good friends.” You asked, luring her into a trap.

“He is! I see him in the hallways sometimes.” Rey nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll ask and see if he remembers you.”

Professor Carmichael died two years ago, you and Kylo had gone to the funeral.

But she didn’t need to know that.

“That would be wonderful! You could ask after you visit the deli.” You said, pleased with yourself for this little segue.

 Rey’s hands went deathly still.  

 She was frozen for some time, you only watching her, only taking in her posture and the way her pulse jumped in her throat. You wondered what it must be like, to be prey.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Rey blinked, and oh how funny it was, to watch her immediately tense up.

To watch her lie.

“Don’t you frequent the Hamilton deli, on Amsterdam Avenue?” You asked, picking up your phone which had been resting on the table.

Her eyes zeroed in on the phone, and you could tell she was suspicious, could tell she was already thinking that you were using it to record her. She didn’t need to know that Kylo’s phone was safely tucked away in your purse, microphone facing her through the thin fabric.

“No, I’ve never been there before.” She lied.

You didn’t even need to use your years and years of observational skills to tell, didn’t even need to look at her to tell she was lying, because you were sifting through your screenshots in the cell phone gallery, looking for one piece of incriminating evidence.

“That’s funny because this is a reply text message from your cell phone number, to an unsaved number. It says, ’I'm busy that weekend. Let’s meet on Monday, our usual spot on Amsterdam.” You said, finally finding it, turning the phone screen to face her, “Or, am I mistaken?”

“How did you get that?” She asked, defensive. So defensive.

She knew she was fucked, why did she bother making this more difficult than it already needed to be?

“A little birdie sent it my way.” You replied.

It was easy to forget, you figured, that your family had connections with all the crooked cops in the city. It was easy to forget that there were people who sent in reports, people who made back alley deals, people who took bribes and offered them to the mob. Cops weren’t all squeaky clean and sunshine the way the mayor was painting them, the way some of these bootlickers were painting them.

No, they were just as slimy and grimy and corrupt as anyone else – maybe even more so.

 It was a cop who sent you that screenshot.

Which meant it was a cop that Rey had spoken to.  

 “So you do visit the deli.” You asked again, and this time, this time Rey had no choice but to play along, unless she was stupid.

She may have been a moron, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Yes.” Rey finally said, taking another big sip of her tea.

“Regularly.” You said, no longer a question.

“What’s this about?” Rey’s eyes narrowed, that squirrely fear of her giving way to the frustration of being caught.

You shrugged, putting the phone away, tucking it into your pocket. Rey followed the movement carefully, and part of you wondered if she thought you were going to pull out a gun and kill her right there. You could, of course, but you wouldn’t. For what she had done, what she was doing, she was in for something far more gruesome.

Today was only a warning.

You took a sip of the lemonade.

“I wonder who you meet there.” You said, nonchalant.

“Just some friends.” Rey replied.

The waiter decided that that was the best time to come in and clear away the plates, to exchange the pretty crystal dish for a three-tiered tray of stirling silver.

This was the course you were most looking forward to, if you were being honest. The top tier of the tray held a sunflower fennel Turkish bagel, the second tray had chicken pastilla, and a fun variety of dips, and the bottom tray had an assortment of things to go with the bagel. You immediately went straight for the apricot saffron jam, and watched as Rey tried her best to keep her hands from shaking as she served herself some baba ghanoush.  

“It must be very good food, or they must be very good friends, for you to regularly take time out of your very full schedule.” You said.

“It’s not so busy.” She replied, and you raised a brow.

“You just said you’re taking the maximum amount of classes.” You challenged, and she blinked rapidly, trying to backtrack.

“I meant it’s not so busy right now, at this point in the semester.” She lied, “We help each other study.”

“I didn’t think someone so bright would need help studying.” You mused, taking a crisp crunchy bite out of the pastilla.

Rey must have been at her tipping point, because her jaw was clenched and her fists were tight on the silverware she held. You had a fleeting thought that she would lunge at you from across the table, the knife in her hand particularly tense.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” She hissed instead, and you raised an eyebrow.

“What am I implying?” You asked, which she didn’t seem to appreciate too much.

“That I’m cavorting with people.” She tried to keep her voice down as to not draw attention to herself, although her temper and that firey sprit that always reminded you so much of her late grandfather, wanted otherwise.

“Are you?” You asked evenly, hoping she’ll just get over with it and fess up.

“No.” She lied instead, and you cocked your head.

“Then why was that your first impulse I wonder?” You hummed, taking a sip of the tea.

“I’m used to people accusing me of things I didn’t do.” Rey said and you almost wanted to laugh out loud.

“Who’s throwing out accusations?” You said instead, your own attitude starting to become a little snippy, starting to become a little more sharp around the edges. “I just think it’s interesting that you make such an effort to meet your new friends. You don’t even take the time to properly control your slice of the city which you so desperately want to keep. I wonder if Gwen knows.”

“Why should she?” Rey scoffed, making you shrug.

“Keeping secrets isn’t the best way to maintain a healthy relationship.” You said.

“No one in this family would know a healthy relationship if it bit them in the ass.” She countered.

That caught you off guard a little, and you did have to admit it was funny. You chuckled a bit into the teacup, careful not to let the short burst of air blow too much of the steam away.

“Probably not.” You replied, before once again repeating yourself, “So which is it?”

“What?” Rey asked, and part of you wanted to strangle her right then and there.

“Is the food good, or are the “friends” good?” You asked.

“The food’s pretty fucking good.” Rey admitted.

“I’ve only been there one time, do you know what I ordered?” You asked, smiling as you wiped the corner of your mouth, as you finished your Turkish bagel and cracked the joints in your neck, your knuckles.

“Do tell.” Rey said, sarcastically and through gritted teeth.

“The N.Y.P.D.” You said easily, so easily, watching as the color drained from her face.

It was an expression you had only seen on her once before.

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

You’re seething, eyes red-rimmed, blood staining your chin, your cheeks. Fury raged through you as you blinked away the hot stinging tears in your eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed and far too keyed up all at the same time.

You were hunting, hunting him down. On your way to rip him apart limb from limb, on your way to gouge out his eyes and yank his heart straight out of his throat.

Snoke.

The man who had ordered your beloved to kill his father, which he had done! Which he had done so well, so deservingly – it hadn’t been enough. Not enough for Snoke, not enough for him who lured him into a trap for his sister to strike him down. The wretched old man, the monster who had taken your Kylo away from you, who had warped and twisted him into a puppet who had to obey.

Well, he didn’t have to obey any longer, not anymore.

Kylo was passed out, blacked out in your bed. You had found him had saved him, had sewn the chasm of his face back together with ugly fucked up stitches because you didn’t know how to do any better, you didn’t know. You had never done anything like this before, had never even seen it done. Nothing but sheer force and willpower had pushed your fingers forward, nothing but blind determination and fear had given you any sense of calm.

Were you calm?

You left him in your bed, stole his keys, and were now flying down the roads. Adrenaline is pounding through your veins, blood in your ears as it rushes behind your temple. You’re speeding, your foot slammed on the gas pedal as you rip through the streets of some small Jersey city. The address in Kylo’s GPS, in Kylo’s car, was leading you to him, to the biggest, meanest boss on the East coast.

You didn’t have anything, nothing to fight him with, nothing to kill him with. But you’re too angry, too furious, too filled with rage to stop yourself from going after him.

You don’t even know how you get there, when the GPS concludes, when you’re slamming the brakes and parking the car, turning it off. You don’t know how long it took, don’t know where you are. All you know is that somewhere inside a shitty warehouse, dilapidated and crumbling, is the man who sent your Kylo to die.

On the wall of the warehouse, in the very first room you creep into, there’s an axe in a glass case. Without thinking, you punch through the glass, send it shattering, send the alarm ringing blaring screaming. The lights flash, and the siren is so loud, and you yank the axe out from the small case, hold it in your hands.

You’re deranged. You don’t know how many men you cut down, on your way to Snoke.

There were rumors about it, rumors of the massacre, the way you had taken on a team of people. All his guards came pouring in, swarming from the depths of the warehouse with their big guns and their poor aim. Maybe if Snoke hadn’t sent Kylo away, hadn’t betrayed him, then he’d still have his attack dogs.

Now he didn’t have anything at all.

It was that night, that you knew how Kylo felt. How he got so out of it, in a trance, when he killed. You had never felt like that before, had never heard the sick crunch of bone as the heavy blade of the axe swung through it, had never heard the screams of someone as their light faded from their eyes.

The screams were muffled by the alarms, the slip and slide of their blood illuminated by the flashing lights, but you didn’t care, you could hear see feel smell it anyway. You were in a frenzy, like a shark hunting for blood.

You were hungry for it, hungry for the death you inflicted.

They had hurt him, had lured him into a trap where his own death was the only outcome, where the dominos would tip and he would fall. They didn’t know he was alive, they didn’t know he was fighting the reaper tooth and nail underneath your expensive satin sheets in your childhood bedroom, they didn’t know he was going to make it.

They wouldn’t make it.

Your muscles are burning by the time you’ve cut them all down, chops of your axe to their limbs, their necks. You’ve been shot, you had to have been, there’s no way you haven’t been, with how many they were. But you can’t feel it, can’t feel if there’s a bullet lodged in you somewhere.

You can’t die yet, you reason. If you die, you’re taking Snoke with you.

You can’t die until you get to Snoke.

The warehouse is like a maze, one large and winding thing, metal walls and grey floors, lights that bounce around off the rusting shelves and grates. You open unlocked doors, kick down locked ones, try your best not to scream as you cry, as you sob. You can’t stop crying, fear gripping your chest, squeezing at your heart as you try try try every door you come across, axe bloody and dripping on the cement in your wake.

You think of him, of Kylo. Of the man you love so desperately. You had never told him, hadn’t told him before that night, before only an hour ago. You never were given the chance, this withered monster having stolen that from you.

You wonder how much else he stole, what else you could have had.

Because you have him now, Kylo. You have him. He cried in your arms when you picked him up off the street, out of the alley. He sobbed into your hair, not coherent or even really that conscious, dead weight in your grip as you dragged him through the streets, dragged him to your house.

It was just your name, on his lips, when you sewed him shut. Just your name, over and over again, pleading, hoping it was you who had rescued him. And it was, you told him again and again, it was you, you were there, there with him.

He kissed you, when you had healed him, when his face was bandaged up to the best of your ability, he kissed you.

That was your first kiss, and you can’t help but wonder, if Snoke hadn’t been around what your first kiss might have been. You’re praying it’s not your first kiss goodbye, praying that by the time you get back to him, he’ll be there to hold you the way he clung to you.

 You’re surprised to see her, when you make it to the right room, the red lights blaring, washing the whole warehouse in an altogether evil atmosphere of violence and rage. You don’t expect her, and you lunge, tackle her to the ground, pressing the bar of your axe up against her throat, choking her as blood and spit spatters onto her face from the force of your anger.

“I’ll kill you!” You scream at her, “I’ll fucking kill you for what you’ve done!”

Because it’s Rey, Rey who split your Kylo’s face in two, Rey who stabbed him in the shoulder, Rey who shot him in the stomach. She’s there, choking under the weight of your axe, body convulsing and eyes bloodshot and angry. You don’t know why, but she’s there.

Rey, his sister, his younger sister, your friend, your classmate, power hungry in her own right.

“(Y/N)!” Rey struggles, chokes, red in the face, blood on her face – or is it just the lights? You don’t know, you don’t care.

You’re too angry.

“Ah,” A voice cuts through the darkness, something chilling that dumps down your spine. “So this is the (Y/N) that I’ve heard so much about.”

You snap your head up, searching in the blinding pulsing light for where the fuck he is, where the monster is hiding. Suddenly it’s like you’ve been electrified, and you’re frantically abandoning Rey’s body from where he’s gasping out on the floor, stalking the room, trying to squint through the lights at him.

“Kylo’s told me so much about you.” The voice, deep and dark and vile, bounces around the walls.

“Show yourself!” You shout, your whole body trembling, shaking with rage.

“Why? So you can cut me to pieces like you did my guards? No, I don’t think so.” The voice laughs, laughs and laughs, coming from all around the room, all angles, all sides.

You spin in a slow circle, as you try to catch shadows on the walls.

“You sick son of a bitch I said show yourself!” You’re practically foaming at the mouth, panting, breath ragged as you gulp down air. You have a splitting headache, you’re still crying, bleeding from a wound in your leg, hands numb from the grip you keep on your weapon.

“Put down the axe, and I will.” Snoke says. You drop it without question – you don’t need the axe to kill him, you’ll find another way. You just need him to show himself.

He steps out of the shadows then, a crippled old thing. He’s so much older than you had thought, than you had ever anticipated. He must be nearing ninety, from the age in his skin, his sunken face, hollow eyes. He’s bald, hunched over and spindly.

You hate him.

“Good, good girl. At least one of you can follow orders.” He chuckles, and you want to be sick, want to kill him. You’re going to kill him.

“Is that why you tricked him? Because he wouldn’t blindly obey you anymore?” You sobbed, unable to even look at him, you’re so repulsed.

“My plans for Kylo were set in motion the first day I met him, he was always destined for this.” Snoke shook his head.

He rushes towards you and grabs you, a grip far too strong for the man’s age, as he pulls out a gun and presses it to your cheek. You can feel the cold bite of the metal digging into your skin, even through the warm crust of blood that’s dried on your face.

“He was a young frightened child and you killed him.” Despite this, you shake, so angry, so livid. You need to think, you need to figure out a way to get out of this hold he has you in.

“He’s dead?” Rey asks from her spot on the floor, not having moved one fucking inch from where you left her.

“No thanks to you.” You lie, you lie and you pray it is a lie, you plead that it’s a lie.

“Shut up!” Snoke says, the arm that was tight around your middle now grabbing your jaw, crushing your chin in his hand as he spits on the floor and grumbles, “You know, I really wish Kylo had never met you.”

“I could say the same.” You say, before taking your opportunity.

You bite down on his hand, hard. So hard that he shouts out in pain and releases you just enough that you can twist yourself out of his hold. You shove Snoke to the floor as you kick the gun out of his hand, the thing spiraling across the cement floor as his head cracks against it. He’s old, he’s fragile, and he doesn’t get up quickly, you’re glad to find as you scramble to find your axe.

Rey screams as you swing the blade down across his ankle, as you cleave through the bone there, chopping his feet off. Snoke screams in pain, a horrible, mangled sound, like he’s never been hurt before, like no one has ever dared to hurt him. He hunches over on the floor, his hands grasping for the stubborn end of his leg.

You swing the axe down again with a yell, a rage filled hysterical shout, hacking through his arms.

There is so much blood, so much that Rey is running away from it, climbing up onto a stack of metal grates to avoid it touching her, to avoid getting it all over her. You lose your footing in it, hands scrabbling against the cement, his blood hot and thick as it pours from his limbs.

You don’t stop until he’s nearly unrecognizable, until he’s completely mangled, chopped into little pieces. You had known, of course you had known that he was human underneath the evil veneer of sickly grey skin, but to see it all laid bare was something you hadn’t been expecting, for whatever reason.

He was nothing more than a pile of bones and organs, skin flayed out and drenched in blood.

You were covered in it, sprayed and drenched from head to toe in it, and only once you had severed the head from his neck, did you drop the axe, did you stumble over onto the ground, did you lay yourself down on the cement and stare up at the flashing lights.

“Is he really dead?” Rey asks, voice small, scared.

She’s watching you from the metal grates, and you sigh.

You’re both too young for this kind of shit, nineteen year old killers. Well, technically, Rey hasn’t killed anyone yet. But the effort counted enough, you think.

“No.” You croak out, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the shouting.

You’ve got your eyes closed, arms and legs spread out like you’re making snow angels, starfished right there on the concrete. You hear Rey get down from the metal grate, your heavy breathing not doing anything to drown out the noise of her standing at your feet.

When you crack an eye open, it’s to her offering you a hand.

“He killed my father.” Rey says, and you sigh as you take it.

“I know.” You reply, pulling her into a hug. “Han was his father too.”

“We need to get you out of here, before the cops come.” She says after she lets herself sigh into the hug, after she lets herself cry a little into your shoulder. When she pulls away, she’s got Snoke’s blood on your cheek. “I don’t know how to shut off the alarm.”

You nod, making sure to take the axe with you. You can’t leave it behind, can’t abandon the murder weapon, not here. You’ll dump it over the side of a bridge or something, but you can’t leave it here.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask as Rey pulls your arm across her shoulder, giving you support.

You’re definitely shot, you can feel it in your leg, now that the adrenaline high is winding down, you wince and grit your teeth through the pain. Your family is going to freak the fuck out when they find out you’re going to the hospital, but they’ll understand, you’ll make them understand.

“I was going to kill Snoke too.” Rey says, glancing back at the mess of gore behind the both of you, before asking, “Are you going to kill me?”

“If he dies from what you did to him, yes.” You reply honestly.

“Why do you care so much about him?” She wonders aloud, a blood-spattered frown knitting her brows.

“I’m in love with him.” You reply easily, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever said, like killing an entire warehouse of people was no challenge for you.

Because it wasn’t, not if it was for your man, your Kylo.

Rey is silent as she helps you limp across the warehouse, as she corrals you into the back of Kylo’s car, as she drives you to the hospital and calls your family, who calls just about everyone else.

And when the whole fucking crime world shows up to check on you, to make sure you’re okay after the surgery to get that bullet out of your leg, when the paths clear and you see the familiar mop of black hair and the bandaged face of your best friend cutting through the crowd, you smile.

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

In the present, Rey put down her teacup. She had the decency to at least look offended, which you appreciated, even if you knew it was all bullshit.

“Excuse me?” She asked, whispered, unable to speak any louder otherwise she’d be screaming, she’d be shouting, like she was so wont do to.

“Roast beef, onions, hot peppers, bacon, American cheese, lettuce, tomato and BBQ Sauce.” You replied quickly and with a bit of a smirk, “It’s delicious.”

“You don’t touch pork.” Rey said.

“That makes one of us.” You shot back.

She closed her eyes then, rubbed them with the pads of her fingers, slumped back into the chair. You wondered how it felt to be such a traitor, to be such a liar. You couldn’t ever imagine.

“You know, (Y/N), I have to say.” Rey shook her head, licked across her teeth and regarded you with steely eyes, “Sometimes I wish Kylo had never met you.”

Of all the things you thought she would say, that really wasn’t one of them. You couldn’t say you were surprised, because you weren’t, not really, not given the situation. If you hadn’t met Kylo, who knows where she might be, how successful, how rich, how powerful.

If you hadn’t met Kylo, you wouldn’t have been there to save him that night, wouldn’t have been there to stop the war that was brewing, that had already begun. Maybe she would have won, if you hadn’t been there.

But you were there.

You can’t help but laugh, a little something just at her expense.

“What’s so fucking funny?” She demanded to know, and you really did think she was going to stab you then, with the way she was fuming.

“Nothing,” You made a show of wiping away a tear from your eye, made a show of getting your chuckles under control as you said, “You’re just not the first person to say that to me.”

“Oh?” Rey rolled her eyes, “And here I thought I was original.”

“So did Snoke.” Your smile dropped, and it felt like the whole world went quiet.

Rey’s eyes widened, and she snapped her jaw shut, staring out the window where the vision was still a marbled blurry mess.

“Do you remember? Remember what I did to him?” You asked softly, removing the napkin from your lap, folding it and placing it on the table. You knew there was one last course coming, some sort of ice cream, but you didn’t care.

You wanted to go home, you needed to plan.

“Yes.” Rey said, voice barely above a whisper, because she did – she was there.

“Remember how I spared you?” You asked, snapping your finger and drawing her attention so that she could look at you, so that you could look at her, really look at her.

“Yes.” Rey answered, terrified.

You were no longer all smiles, all warmth. You were no longer sunshine and charm as you had been, as you tried to always be. No, no now you were angry, now you were impatient, now you were offended. Your eyes were cold and hard when you regarded her, when you bore your gaze into hers as you leaned in ever so slightly, leaned in just enough to make her lean in too.

“I’m starting to regret that.” You whispered, before pulling away.

The waiter arrived then with the ice creams, and you returned to your normally cheerful disposition, checking your phone and collecting your belongings.

“Shit, would you look at the time!” You laughed breezily, apologetically to the waiter. “I need to get going, Kylo will be expecting me back home soon. You know how he gets if he’s away from me for too long.” You said to Rey, who was stunned.

“Of course.” She said, mind racing, pulse jumping.

The waiter nodded, handed the ice creams off to someone else passing by so they wouldn’t melt, no use in wasting them on people who wouldn’t eat it.

You eyed the little piece of newspaper that was still on the table, and picked it up.

“Oh, would you mind holding onto this for me? He doesn’t like it when I fill in the puzzle without him, gets all sour.” You winked, folding it up and handing it to Rey.

“Did you finish it?” Her voice shook as she accepted the paper.

“No, there’s one left, I was hoping you could solve it.” You smiled warmly, standing up and putting on your coat, “It’s got me stumped I’m afraid. Forty-two across.”

“Sure I can take a look.” Rey looked like she was in a daze, emotional whiplash making her dizzy.

“Thanks Rey.” You said, excusing yourself to the waiter. “I’ll see you soon.”

You left a few hundred dollars on the table, and made your way out of the tea room.

 You barely made it to the door when you heard a loud FUCK! and the shatter of crystal hitting the polished marble floor, sound of footsteps running, the murmur of nosy socialites wondering what the commotion was all about.

Without even so much as turning around, you smiled to yourself, as the doorman opened the glass doors and you stepped outside.

Your heels clicked on the pavement as you stepped up to the vehicle where Dopheld was holding open the door, a curious look on his face.

“Did you have a nice lunch, Mrs. Ren?” He asked, ever so cheerful and polite, friendly.

“Yes Dopheld, thank you.” You said, sitting in the back of the car and clicking your seatbelt into place. “It was very insightful.”

You reached into your purse and pulled out Kylo’s phone, paused and saved the recording so Kylo could listen in on it as soon as you got back home.

“I’ll bring you back then?” Dopheld asked, smiling at you through the rearview mirror.  

“Yes please, Kylo is going to follow us.” You pulled out a compact mirror and your lipstick from your purse, reapplied your favorite color since the brunch had rubbed some of it away.

“Yes ma’am.” Dopheld pulled onto the street and into the light traffic of the mid-afternoon.

You looked behind you and gave a little wave to your husband, who was in the car behind you. He lifted a palm for a moment before returning it to the wheel, a small wave of his own kind. Smiling, you turned back to face the front properly, and hummed to yourself.

“Oh, Dopheld?” You asked, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Anything, Mrs. Ren.” Your driver was always eager, jumping at the bit to help.

“Do you happen to know a three letter word for, ‘traitor?’” You asked, a coy smile spreading across your face, as his eyes widened in the rear-view mirror.

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

Taggin some palz! <3  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @hidingp @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @insanita @disaster-rose @hazydespair​ @yosoymuyloca​

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardian of creatures; AU!Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 2

*Author’s note*

Here we are guys, the second chapter of my latest Hallowqueen series. Now this one is longer than the first part so buckle up. I wanna start off by saying I'm NOT an expert dancer, especially jazz dancing so I hope you all who are dancers either by interest or profession forgive me for my improper naming of certain dance moves, I REALLY tried my best to research the types of jazz moves, if I get something wrong PLEASE TELL ME.

Also warnings for this cause the second half gets pretty graphic for blood, real life fae myths, violence, descriptive death scene.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@dancingcoolcat

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@klausidiot

@kinole009x

_______________________________________________________________

Chapter 2,

The rescue

Friday.  The day that everyone looks forward to when work can finally take a rest and people can enjoy a good weekend off with family and friends.  Friday nights especially seem to be the most busiest nights for any big or small businesses.  And as usual your boss insisted that you go back to the BEWITCHED club because you still ‘haven’t delivered the goods’ according to him.

Even after explaining to him that you didn’t want to seem suspicious to the owners or any of the employees, he didn’t care.  He just wanted the dirt on the club and he needed it by Monday or else you were fired.  Not wanting to disappoint him, you agreed and this time you made sure to hide your camera in your bag but hide it within some other stuff like tissues, gum, handwipes, etc.

Once again as night fell, the club was already starting to pile up, if not even be bigger than it was when you went on Tuesday. You even noticed how more people were dressed up in dancing clothes than the usual club-like clothes.

Security lets you in like he did before and you hear the band playing nothing but loud jazz music.  You also see that the dance floor is more lively than it was the last time you came. Almost a hundred couples were cuttin up a rug on the dance floor, flying and leaping, tapping their feet onto the hardwood floor or lifting their partners in the air.

“So you came back.” A soft voice said behind you. When you turned to your right there stood the blonde Siren singer.  His blue eyes staring straight into your soul as he teased you again, “Couldn’t get enough of us the first time?”

“I—I was just……” he softly chuckled and said.

“No worries love. I’m sure Serafina told you that I don’t bite that hard. Unless you want me to.” He cheekily gave you a wink and a smirk as he took a drag of his cigarette.  You felt your face heat up as he turned and blew out the smoke from his lips.

“Why aren’t you up on stage performing?” you asked him.

“Sadly love tonight is not my night. Friday nights are reserved for the Dance competition. Though honestly I don’t know why we hold one, John and Serafina win every time. No matter who’s the best.” He said as he took a sip of a drink he now stole off one of the waiters who passed by with a tray of champagne.

“A dance competition?”

“Oh yeah. John especially loves to show off his skills on the dance floor. And when he dances with her…..” he let out a low whistle. “Maybe that’s why she hasn’t fallen for me. Prefers a dancer to a singer.”

“Do you really like Serafina? Like in a romantic sort of way?” you ask him, remembering back to how he looked at the female owner of the club compared to the other women he seduced with his song the first time you came.

Before he could answer, the music stopped and everyone started applauding as Brian now came up onto the stage.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. First we’d like to give thanks to the McKinney’s Cotton Pickers band for traveling here from Detroit to be a part of our contest tonight.” You and the crowd applauded as the spotlight came onto a band that sat in the back of the stage.  11 men stood up and waved to the crowd before sitting back down in their seats. “Now the theme for this week’s competition is Jazz. Whether street Jazz dance or how it’s done with the twist of Broadway, Jazz is the game tonight. Anything outside of it shown in your routine is terminated. Good luck and may the best partners win. First up we have Flora and Sir Tom.”

The crowd applauded and soon a dainty young woman with a child-like face and short bobby blonde hair along with a man who had a fairly good looking appearance of brown hair and blue eyes came on the dance floor first and took their positions.  The band soon began to play their first song and they began their routine.

You’ll admit they were pretty good keeping in time with the rhythm of the music and they lit up the stage, for the first act of course.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink. This will take a while.” The Blonde Siren tells you as he touches your arm.

“Why do you say that?” you say.

“No offense to them, but Flora is a full on diva. She tries to make her routines last about as long as the night stands.” You both walk over to the bar and sit down as he continues, “Just last month she tried to make their tango routine last about 30 minutes.”

30 minutes!? Damn how anyone could dance that long without falling flat on their face was beyond you.

“Oi Maz! Two cocktails over here!” the singer called out.

“And how would you like it sir? Snorted up your nose drip by drip or poured straight up your ass!?” a brown skinned female with long flowing hair sneered at the singer.  He smirked at her and said.

“Ahh Maz you never change.” She glared at the singer before turning to make the cocktails.

“Well that was rude. You should tell Serafina that she spoke to you like that.”

“Ahh Maz is like that with everyone.” He brushed it off nonchalantly.

“Then why does she work here?”

“Let’s just say she owes us one.” He said as our drinks finally came. “Thank you lovie.” He sung out to Maz.

“Screw you!”

“Here? Now? Just kidding, I know you’re still sore from last night.” He teased her as he picked up his cocktail and took a sip of it. She stomped away and went back to work.

“That was uhh—pardon me for saying this but—inappropriate. On what you just said to her.”

“Oh believe me that’s about as nice as we get with each other. You never wanna see Maz and I really go at it. Hell even I don’t like it when we go at each other. John and Serafina never forgave us for that.” You both hear the crowd cheer and you saw that Tom and Flora had finished their routine.

“Wow, that’s a record. Guess John and Serafina told her to keep it short.” The Siren said as he took another drag of his cigarette.

More people danced their routines and they were all pretty good. You’ve always secretly admired a good dancer and you wished you could move half as good as any professional dancer, but sadly you couldn’t.  You’ve always described your dancing as having ‘2 left feet’.

Brian came up to the stage after the last couple came up to dance and he said into the microphone.

“And now, to end our competition we have John and Serafina Deacon. And singing a song that they composed for their routine, we have rising Jazz singer Aerin.” Aerin? You had never heard of a name like that before, was he from Europe or something? Cause that was clearly not an American name.

As the crowd applauded, a young and attractive African American man came up (god you were beginning to wonder just how all these people were inhumanly beautiful!) he wore a beautiful three piece grey suit as well as sported a matching fedora hat.

It was then Serafina came up onto the stage wearing a beautiful burgundy red flapper dress and like an actress on stage, she acted like she was wandering around the stage lost and confused.  That was until this Aerin fellow came up to her and presented her with a lamp of some sorts.

Play video

She took it from him and admired it curiously as he stepped away back to his spot on the stage.  Serafina rubbed the prop and soon with a flash of lights and an explosion of smoke on the stage, the band soon exploded into an upbeat tune that timed with the beat of the special effects.  You then see on stage a man roughly around the same age as Serafina, maybe even a bit older.

Again like every other man in this place he was attractive to the eye with short brown hair.  He wore a black satin shirt with what almost looked like diamonds stitched all over the shirt, giving it a starry-like quality.  A few of the top buttons were undone, exposing a bit of his upper chest, white satin pants and white platform shoes.

He turned to Serafina with passionate eyes and a soft grin but she turned away from him with her arms crossed.  It was then Aerin began to sing as he snapped his fingers slowly and the cello began to play a single note.

As Aerin sung his song, you couldn’t take your eyes off of John and Serafina play out their little act.  John slowly walked towards Serafina to the beat of the cello before coming up right behind her, snapping his fingers along with Aerin.

He looked her up and down but not like a lion eyeing his prey, it was like a husband admiring his wife.  With love and admiration, not with lust or desire.  The two of them did an in-sync tap dance with their right feet but Serafina quickly glared up at John before pushing him away from her.

*Aerin*

Well, Mr. Rochester had his double dose Romeo had his Juliet But, my dear, you’re in luck

'Cause up your sleeves You got a lover that never fails You got some power in your personal Some heavy ammunition in your camp You got some punch, pizazz, yahoo and how All you gotta do is say my name And I'll say

Madam Serafina What will your pleasure be? Let me take your order Jot it down You ain't never had a lover like me No no no

The band began to pick up with the Cello player and John quickly got in front of Serafina and took her hands in his and the two did a jazz dance together, tapping their feet or John dancing around Serafina.  Every now and then Serafina would try to get away from John.

Life is your restaurant And I'm your maître d' C'mon whisper what it is you want You ain't never had a lover like me

Yes ma’am, we pride ourselves on service You're the boss, the Queen, the goddess Say what you wish, it's yours! True dish, how about a little more baklava?

The two of then danced to a two beat as they scaled down the stairs to the dance floor and John pulled Serafina close to his chest stroking her cheek before removing the flapper headdress from her head.  The two of them began to do the Turkey trot, his hand every now and then brushing some strands out of her face, or maybe just to feel the touch of her skin as his ‘Loving master’.

Have some of column A Try all of column B I'm in the mood to help you love You ain't never had a lover like me

        The two of them then began to do a little dance duel off.  John first did a fast paced tap dance routine for the first line.  Serafina then did a tap routine of her own, adding a twirl and wave of her arms before turning back to John.

        He then did a triple spin before taking Serafina’s hand, spinning her right towards him before giving her a quick dip.  

Can your boys do this? Can your men do that? Can your brothers pull this out their little hat? Can your daddy go, poof!

You then see Serafina break her ‘hard to get’ façade as she finally let lose and her and John danced together.  The Blonde Siren wasn’t kidding, seeing the two of them dance together it was—ethereal.

It was like seeing two puzzles fit together, two birds dancing in the sky.  It was like they were made for each other.  The two then began to Charleston around each other, dancing rapidly as they refused to break eye contact with each other till John took her hand and brought her close to him him before spinning her around.

So don't ya sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed I'm here to answer all your midday prayers You got me bona fide and certified You got a lover for your charge d'affaires I got a powerful urge to love you now So whatcha wish? I really wanna know You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt Well, all you gotta do is love me so oh oh

He spun her faster and faster and faster almost to the point where you swear she had vanished.  What even amazed you was that she was actually being lowered down to the ground while still spinning at a rapid speed before coming right back up again.

Soon their dancing exploded as they danced with passion and grace. Jazz squaring, the Charleston with jazz hands, or this one move with their arms and feet. Their arms made a flossing like motion while they stepped backwards twice before quickly racing up the stairs back to the stage.

John spun Serafina into his arms and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.  His face lit up as a grin spread across his face.

Madam Serafina, have a wish or two or three I'm on the job, as your Casanova You ain't never had a lover, never had a lover You ain't never had a lover, never had a lover You ain't never (never)

Had (had) a

Lover like me You ain't never had a lover like me

With a point of his hand, another special effect of smoke blew up the stage and they both disappeared.

The crowd went berserk. John and Serafina soon came back on stage, hands joined with each other as they took their bows and the crowd continued to cheer.  The two lovers acknowledged and clapped for the band as well as for Aerin, who also took a bow.

“Our lovely and reigning championship couple John and Serafina Deacon everyone.” Brian said into the microphone.  After clapping and letting out a few whistles you turned to the Blonde Siren and said.

“You were right they were amazing!”

“I prefer masterful.” He said. “But you’re right. They were good. Like I told you, two partners meant for one another.” His eyes seemed to stare at the two of them in a daze-like trance. “You’ll never find anyone more worthy of each other in any books or film.”

Wow.  He must really love Serafina if he was willing to let her fall in love with someone else.  He was willing to put aside his own feelings for her just so that she could be with John.

“It must’ve been hard, to let her go like that.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked confused.

“My question earlier. You never answered it. You must really love her, but yet you were willing to let her go so that she could be with the one she really loves.”

He looked at you confused before he let out a snicker. That snicker soon developed into a chuckle which then turned into a boisterous laugh.

He was laughing? Why was he laughing? Was he in denial or something? I mean it you hear it does make people act a certain way, right?

“Oh that’s rich! Me in love with Serafina!” his laughter slowly died down but when he saw your face he continued, “Oh wait you were serious?” he scoffed softly, “Look I know I may come across as a flirt, especially towards the ladies, but not even I can break the spell that John and Serafina have with each other. Their loyalty and love has been with them since childhood. They were lovers long before I even met them.”

“You mean they were childhood sweethearts?”

“Yeah if you wanna go that way of saying it.” Aww that’s so sweet. You could tell that John and Serafina had something extra special about each other.

You may not know about the connection it takes between dance partners but you knew that it takes knowing someone a really, really, really, really long time to form a bond and make any time you see a couple like them together, feel like there’s magic surrounding them.

“Well done as always John and Serafina.” The Siren spoke as he raised his glass to them.  You see the young couple coming towards you and John says.

“Thanks mate.” He then turns to you and says, “I could be mistaken but aren’t you the new person that came to our club on Tuesday?”

“Yes. Yes sir I am. (Y/n) (l/n). You and Serafina were amazing up there tonight.” You say as you extend your hand out.

“Thank you.” he takes your hands and the two of you shake in introduction. “John Deacon. Financer and co-owner of the BEWITCHED jazz club. And also lucky husband to this beautiful woman right here.”

“You honey-bear you’re too kind.” Serafina blushed.  She then turned to you and said, “Hope our friend here hasn’t scared you like he did the first time you came here.”

“Oh Serafina love, you wound me so.” The Blonde Siren said as he placed his hand over his heart. “You know I know my limits when mingling with the guests.”

“Of course you do hound dog.” John muttered.

“Stuck up prick.” The Siren snapped back.

“Prima donna.” John snapped back.

“Posh flamingo!”

“Alright now boys settle down, settle down!” Serafina broke the two of them apart before they went at it. “You both know the law here. No fighting in front of the guests.” She scolded them.

“Sorry love.” They both chorused out like children who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  She turned back towards you.

“Come on honey, why not come outside with me to get some air? And you two behave yourselves. I better not see another mess.”

“Yes ma’am.” The two men said as Serafina guides you outside.

You both exit out the backway and now stand in an alleyway. The cold spring night air dancing around you as you rub your arms to keep warm.

“Oh I’m sorry sweetie, do you want to go back inside?” Serafina asks concerned.

“No I’m fine. Just—had to get used to it after being inside is all.”

“Sorry. I like to come out here after John and I perform a routine. It just gets so hot after doing a full on jazz routine.”

“I’ll bet. Especially with the practical effects you guys used in your routine.”

“Practical effects?” she questioned softly with a tilt of her head.

“The smoke and the sparks of light.”

“Oh yes that! Sorry honey we never really called them that before. Or at least I never did. I just call them smoke bombs and flashy lights. As you can see I’m not really technologically advanced.” She admitted the last part shyly.

“Yeah you have always been a bit slow to technology Serafina.” A male voice soon spoke up.  You both turn around to see a hidden figure standing in the shadows.

Slowly walking out from the darkness was a tall and handsome man. He roughly looked to be around his early to mid 30’s, had strange yet fitting long white hair and……wait were his eyes golden? Like a honey-colored gold? You didn’t know anyone could have golden eyes before.

But you notice the look on Serafina’s face and you saw nothing but pure anger on her face.  Her brows furrowed and a sneer appeared across her lips.

“What is it you want Jarod?”

“Be calm dear I don’t mean any harm but umm…..” that’s when Jarod turned his eye to you. “Who’s your friend back there?”

“They are none of your concern! Now move along!” Serafina snapped as she stood protectively in front of you.  Why was she being so rude to him? All he wanted was to know my name. “Listen to me honey, I need you to go back inside and find either John or Brian. Do not leave their side till I come back and find you, okay?” she whispers to you urgently as she looks back at you.

“Oh well now that’s just rude.” Jarod cooed.  Wow—his voice was……so soothing, and rich (it could’ve also been the accent, you didn’t know but you also strangely didn’t care). Like the honey color of his eyes. “And I thought you were said to be the supreme hostess?”

“Not to your kind! Now I won’t ask again Jarod. Get. Out!”

“Wait.” You suddenly say. “I—I don’t want him to leave.” You find yourself saying.  Serafina’s eyes widened at your decree.

“Sweetheart you can’t be serious.”

“She is Serafina. And what your guests want, they get.” Jarod said with a smug grin. “Come here child.” He says to you and you find yourself walking straight towards them.

“No!” Serafina cries out but Jarod lifts his hand and she goes flying backwards against the wall and falls lifelessly on the ground.

You were unaware of what happened because all you kept thinking about were Jarod’s eyes and his voice.  You finally stand face to face, well more like face to chest with him as he looms over you about a foot.  He takes your chin between his fingers and whispers.

“Exquisite.” God his breath—it smelled so sweet. Like honeysuckles. “What’s your name my dear?” you were about to open your mouth to answer when a voice enters your mind.

‘Don’t tell him! Don’t tell him your name! If you do it’ll bind you to him forever! Please for Merlin’s sake honey don’t give him your name!’ Serafina? How was her voice speaking to you.

“Going shy on me now hmm? Maybe a little bit of courage will help loosen those delicate lips.” He cups your face with his soft, gentle hands. Your eyes staring straight into the other’s, his nose slightly grazing over yours as his lips tease against yours.

Electricity is shooting up your spine as you get the urge and lift yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss this handsome angel of a man. His strong arms pull you closer to him as a deep, resonating moan escapes his throat making your legs feel like jell-o.

When you separate from each other you finally give out your name in a soulless whisper.

“(Y/n).” he lets out an orgasmic gasp as he says.

“What a lovely name. Come with me my love.” And soon your vision turns black as you feel two arms lift you up and the last thing you hear are screams of your name.

Your vision is blurry for the next little while, but what you can make out is darkness, screams of horror and pain, and hundreds if not thousands of people with pointed ears and sharp fangs hissing at you.

The smell—it smelled like…..rotting flesh, why did it smell so bad here? Where were you? You then find yourself being shoved straight down onto some sort of chair.  The voices around you chanting out some sort of foreign language till suddenly a loud bang was heard and all went quiet.

Slowly lifting your head maybe an inch from where your head rested, you could see through whatever light there was coming down in his cave-like structure a tall female figure walking towards you.  You could make out that she wore some sort of black and green clothing and a crown of spikes stood across her head, like antlers on a deer.

Proud and regal.

But soon your vision went back to black.

*3rd Person POV*

Play video as you read below

Walking towards the mortal was none other than Queen Titania of the Faeries.  Now faeries are not as they are in your fairytale books, they are dark creatures. Like mermaids, they are in touch with all things of the supernatural and mysterious.

While beautiful and handsome compared to any human being there is one rule you must always remember; Never, ever under any circumstance give a fae your name.  If you do, it binds a contract to your very soul and you will forever be possessed by them forever.  Faes, especially the Dark faes of Titania’s clan are incapable of showing and expressing real love.

They view whatever or whomever they love as possessions and are only really out for themselves.  Draining the life force of anyone, especially humans of their essences, or using them as a way to give birth to future faelings.

“Mother.” Jarod said as he stood beside his prey.

“My son.” Titania spoke in a commanding yet soft voice. She then turned towards her son’s recent catch and said as her eyes soon became lustful, “And just who is this you brought with you?”

“They’re mine mother! They spoke their name to me!” Jarod hissed possessively.

“Shut up!” she snarled as she slapped her son across the face. “You know of my law when it comes to fresh prey!” in her hand appeared a small dagger, “While it is our law for a human to be bound to the one they speak their name to, my law is to enact—prima nocta.” She then stabs the dagger into (y/n)’s left shoulder.

Not too deep to cause excruciating pain, but deep enough for the mortal’s blood to start pouring out.  Queen Tatiana slowly moved her dagger down (y/n)’s arm right down to their wrist.  The Queen watched with pleasure as their face softly clenched up in pain and admired the red human blood seeping out from her dagger.

She took back her dagger and made it disappear as she now sat down upon the young mortal’s lap.  She stroked (y/n)’s cheek gingerly and whispered.

“Just…….a little taste.” She slowly began to lower herself down towards (Y/n)’s shoulder to get her first taste of fresh human blood after 1000 years.

When suddenly a crack was soon heard from above. Titania, her son Jarod and all the other faes looked up.  The ceiling cracked even more before finally a portion of it caved in and water soon rained down upon them.  Titania, her son and the faes all backed up as now standing before them were Brian May, Roger, John and Serafina Deacon.

Roger was now in his true Nokk form, his fangs bared and gills extended outward as he let out an animalistic roar.  Brian was in full Elvish silver armor as he withdrew two long swords his eyes glaring pure hatred, meanwhile John and Serafina stood each of their hands glowing either purple or red respectively.

All four of them protectively guarded their human friend as Serafina snarled.

“You dare come near them again!” Titania smirked wickedly at them.

“You four are fools to think you could come into my kingdom and win. But no matter, my babies have longed for a fight. And they will enjoy tearing you four apart.” She then banged her staff once on the ground and that’s when a female fae came flying straight towards Brian.

Her fangs exposed and claws growing outward as she flew towards the Elf Lord.  But she was stopped as Roger pounced on her and forced his hand (which now turned to water) down her throat.

Drowning her alive while still on land.

Even after she was dead, he ripped her throat apart just to show those faes that they meant business.  He then roared out again as blood dripped from his fangs.

Soon over 50 faes flew right towards them.  John and Serafina fired out with their magic, shooing some of them away, but the others managed to get past.  Ten female faes went over to Roger, attacking him with bites and scratches, Brian fought off against 15 male and female faes, while John and Serafina tag-teamed against the remained dozen.

The battle was brief and short as Roger found himself being over powered by the brutality of the female faes as they dragged him down to the bottom of the caves.

Brian tried as best as he could but one large and strong fae managed to actually break his swords in two and to add salt to the open wound, he actually broke the Elven lord’s dominant arm.

John and Serafina unfortunately weren’t doing any better. Even after shifting into a lion and lioness hoping that animal force could overpower these faes, they too were soon overpowered and were forced to roll down the ramp of the throne and forced to be pinned.  Queen Titania watched with disinterest as her foes were now defeated and she could now once again claim her prize.

But something would once again stop her, however it was the one thing that faes, along with every mythical creature fears.

Bursting out from the back of the caves was a loud hiss and a flash of scales.  Screams of terror were heard from the faes in the back as they all tried to flee, unfortunately some of them ended getting caught in the coils of something big.

When Titania turned glaring with pure hatred at just what was causing the delay now, her hatred soon turned to horror.  Quickly slithering up towards her was a half human-snake creature.  With one single hiss and launch at her, Titania crawled away in fear.

The faes around the throne also tried to flee, but as the creature wrapped itself around the throne, the faes who were trapped (one of them being Jarod) were forced to stay put as they were being suffocated between the stone rock and the pure muscle of the coils pressing down on them.

Slithering down to finally reveal himself was Freddie, the last of the Nagas.  As mentioned before, all creatures especially the faeries fear the Naga.  They can’t even stand to look a Naga in the eye less they fall under their spell and become their next meal.

For you see Nagas are the only beings in the world, as well as dragons, who cannot be affected by any type of magic.  Which is why the faeries fear them so much.  Anything that cannot be put under their spell, is a threat and a frightened fae is a weak fae.

As Freddie’s coils wrapped around the throne with about five of Titania’s people including her son were shown before the rest of the faeries, he let out a angry hiss.

“HEED MY WORDS fae scum! The human belongsss…..to USSSS!!!!” His eyes filled with nothing but pure hatred and protectiveness.  He made sure to show his many rows of teeth before the fae Queen to ensure she took his warning to heart.

Frightened and refusing to look upon the last Naga, Titania took off flying and the faes that had John and Serafina pinned also backed down and took off flying.

Freddie let out a hiss as his forked tongue poked out and he looked down to John and Serafina.

“You dears alright?” phasing back into their human forms again with blood stained across their faces from the faes claws.

“We’ll live. But (Y/n)……” John said as he gestured towards the human.  Freddie looked down at the small human with concerned eyes.

“Freddie, they told Jarod their name. What if…….”

“It’ll be alright Serafina dear. While it is true fae law states that if someone speaks their name, they are bound to the fae for eternity. However, should the fae be killed then the contract is no longer in effect. They are free of him.”

“Thank Paracelsus.” Serafina sighed with relief. The faint groans came out of (Y/n)’s mouth as their eyes began to open up once again.

Freddie’s head just stood a few feet above them and he looked down at them with soft reassuring eyes.

“It’s alright my darling. Just sssleeeep.” He cooed down at them before lowering himself down to them and picked them up.  The remaining faes now couldn’t even look at their former prey/plaything cause now they have been touched by the Naga.

“Now clear out, all of you!” John fired a purple bolt of lightning straight at the wall and soon the faes all took off fleeing deeper into the darkness.

“That’ll hold them for a while.” Brian groaned as Serafina was now healing his broken arm.  After that she quickly repaired his swords and that’s when he asked.

“Where’s Roger?”

“Don’t you worry about our Nokk friend.” Freddie told the Elven lord.  “There happened to be a small stream of water that our friend used to finish off his faes. He’ll meet us back home since the stream connects to a river outside.”

“He’s right, Roger can take care of himself. Right now we gotta get (Y/n) healed up and make sure Jarod’s spell is off their soul permanently.” John said.  He extended his hand to Serafina who now joined hands with John.  The two of them joined their other hands together and placed their foreheads against each other.

Focusing their magic, they soon disappeared out of the dark cave before the faes could change their minds and return to finish the job.

[red-radish14]

How To Get Away With Murder

Authors Note:

No real-life acts were committed to persuading me to write this story, it is all fictional and written off the top of my head, no mental or physical attributes were caused to have premeditated planning on this, this felt like a very interesting story to write, there is graphic detail in this story if sensitive please do not read.

If you or someone you know is/are thinking about committing an act of violence upon you or others please call 911 and get help immediately!! They will be able to find the right resources and betterments for you!!

Thanks and reviews are always appreciated!! :)

Word Count: 2.2k

--

Average Life for an average girl:

December 31st, 1979

7:01pm

Hi, I'm Blaire, Blaire Helms, thinking that no one is going to read any of this I have made a resolution to start journaling my life. Even if no one ever saw this, it would be nice to look back and read what I had in mind for the years to come. Let me start out with who I am. I'm a 17-year-old girl from Topeka Kansas, I live with my mother and twin brothers in an apartment downtown. My brothers, Jack and Elliot, are star players on the high school football team. And well, my mother, she is a waiter at the cafe on the main street. We don't have much here at home, and having to scrounge for money to buy a $15 journal had been a struggle for the past few weeks. Me on the other hand, I'm 5'6" with long brown hair and big green eyes. School before winter break was tough, I get bullied a lot, and making friends is a bit of a challenge for me. My brothers don't make it any easier for me either, they sometimes even send random classmates to come to bully me in the smoking pit. Yeah yeah, I know, before you get all Nabby about me smoking I know that it's bad for you, but, I'm 17 how bad could it get. Being a junior in high school isn't all that rough though. I'm an average C student with average teen life. To end on a good note, I finally had enough money saved for the dance on the 13th. Well, it is a welcome back dance for all the kids who passed 1st semester. I just hope no trouble endured like last year, having my head dumped into the punch bowl was not pleasant. Expect more from me in the future. Until then.

-Blaire Helm

7:56pm

--

Smoking Pit Disaster:

January 7th, 1980

5:23pm

Today was hell, when I woke up my brother Elliot had clogged the toilet and flooded the whole bathroom, and just left it there, I was always the last one to leave the house and there was no time to clean it up. I had to get ready at school, about 15 minutes later and once I had left the restroom it was straight to the smoking pit to skip 1st period. There were always a few girls down there and they weren't very talkative, they always just sat and smoked for the whole hour, no breaks in between. As I was smoking you literally won't believe who came down to bother me, Mason Palmer. Mason was the hottest guy in school, he was also the biggest jerk of the school. He was famously popular among anyone in the city and always had a few remarks in his sleeve. after a few minutes of smoking and getting paper balls profusely thrown at me, Mason had jumped down into the pit and proceeded to taunt me. After the taunting, he had kicked my side causing me to drop my cigarette onto my leg. He then left laughing at his buddies. About 30 minutes after the beating I had left to go to 2nd period. Walking through the hallway trying to cover the burn hole in my jeans, I ran into Mason. He had grabbed my backpack and threw it at one of his buddies that had taken off with the bag. He then pushed me down and walked away, leaving me with no supplies, and I had returned to the smoking pit for the remainder of the day. Hopefully, this week would get better before the dance on the 13th. If it doesn't, I'll just have to stay home. But, until next time.

6:17pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Sam's Club Shopping Spree:

January 11th, 1980

9:12pm

Today I had to go shopping for bulk food supplies at Sam's Club. It was the cheapest place where we could go to buy a lot of items for less money. It was only the 2nd time I had to go shopping there and I was bored out of my mind. As I was shopping today I picked up the usual items we needed. Macaroni, ramen, chips and lots more. In the back of my mind somewhere I needed to get some cleaning supplies, I don't know why but I bought some anyway. a 4 pack of bleach bottles, 16-pack sponges, 2 3-gallon mop buckets, 8 pack of paper towels, and some sterile gloves. I felt like I needed to clean the whole house. After I was done shopping I decided to stop by Walgreens to pick up some pain killers for my back, it's been so horrible lately, they'll knock me out in a second if I'm not careful. Once I got home, I left the cleaning supplies in my car until I needed them and brought the other groceries inside. Being usual teenage boys my brothers decided to help none and pretend to be each other for a day, I guess it's a normal thing identical twins decide to do. Oh, and about Mason, he hasn't shown up to school for the past 2 days because he's been too busy suit shopping for the dance. This isn't prom, I guess he's wanting to fuck some chick in the back while everyone else is sipping on watered-down punch. Well, I'll let you guys know how the dance goes, all I'm wearing is a hand-me-down loose tee with some black jeans. Wish me luck.

10:02pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Till Death Do Us Part:

January 13th, 1980

5:43 am

Guys, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere right now. Why is this happening, this can't be happening? It started with the stupid fucking dance. I walked into the gym, grabbed my punch, and boom Mason was right there, he had poured his punch all over me and pushed me causing me to slip and fall hitting my head. I had gotten up asking him what he wanted from me. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side of the bleachers. He had pinned me against the wall and told me I had to do whatever he wanted me to do. I had agreed and asked him if I could run out to my car to get dried, he agreed and after some time I was back into the gym. Mason had gotten a new cup of punch and came over to dance. I had played around and danced along with him. Mason left to go pee after some dancing and asked me to hold his cup. While Mason was gone, I had grabbed some of those painkillers from the car and slipped some into his drink. Mason had returned and started drinking his punch, fast, like he was dying of dehydration. He started falling asleep so, I asked him if he wanted to go to the storage closet to have some fun. He had followed me in there, pinned me down, and I stabbed him. I had must've stabbed him 100 times, blood was everywhere. I panicked, I had shut off the lights and locked the door. It must've been hours but no one looked for us, once the last person left the school I knew what I needed to do with Mason. I had dragged his body out to my car and laid him in the backseat on top of my wet clothes, all of his blood had drained out onto the floor of the gym. I had grabbed the cleaning supplies I bought from Costco earlier and cleaned. it must've taken me an hour. I had grabbed all the trash and stuffed it into the back of my car. The closet was as clean as it was before the murder. And now I'm out here in the middle of fucking Kansas, 125 miles from where I live. Now, what do I fucking do?

7:24 am

- Blaire Helm

--

Pitched Out:

January 14th, 1980

3:36 pm

I had decided I needed to do something with this body or it was going to rot in my car minute by minute. I had stopped at a gas station to pick up 30 lbs of raw meat and some new clothes without being questioned and afterward, I had gone a bit off-roading miles away from the road and found a place to park and deal with it. My mother loved to Garden and so happens the day before she had left most of her gardening stuff in the car, so I got to digging. I had created dirt stairs and dug 12ft down. I had stripped Mason down to his skin and set his clothes aside. I had placed him into the hole. I covered him up with about 6 ft of dirt, and placed the raw rotting meat above, covering it with the remaining dirt, patted it out, and made it look natural. I had found some school papers from my car and tumbleweeds laying around to create a fire.  I stripped down to my skin and proceeded to throw everything I had used to kill Mason into the fire, letting it burn. After the fire was done burning I picked up the ashes and brought them with me back to a small pond a few miles down the road. I had thrown the ashes into the pond, watching them disintegrate, and jumped in the pond myself to wash up all the blood. While I was in the pond I had realized what I've done. While drying off I burst into tears and begged God for forgiveness. Afterward, I had set myself on home, sitting here now at a gas station, only 25 miles away from my house.

4:17 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

The Party:

January 17th, 1980

8:57 pm

A watch party had started for Mason and I had joined along with them in search for him. I knew what I did, and I knew nobody was going to ever find him. I know that because it's a fact. The rotting meat will attract the dogs, the police dig it up and realize it's just some animal remains, and continue searching. There are no fingerprints or clothes to find because they are burnt. The ashes are dissolved into nothingness. And it's in the middle of Kansas in a desert, anyone could've done it. The school gym is cleaned like brand new, it's all planned. After the search party, I had stopped by Mason's house to see how his parents were doing. His mother and father could not stop crying. Soon I was "crying" and told them I needed to leave to get home to do some homework. I had gotten home and lost my mind, I was upset that I did such a thing. I had started laughing when realizing that I had gotten away, a murder undetected, a master plan successfully accomplished. But for how long.

9:10 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Dumped Down:

April 18th, 1980

1:02 pm

It's been 3 months since I've killed Mason, the parties are over, and everyone is moving on like he was still out there missing. I knew what had happened, I've visited where I had buried him a few times since that night, It upsets me. A lot is going through my head lately. One of these days or years they are going to find him and I will be fucked, I can't live knowing I had killed a man. So sitting here in my bedroom I've come up with a plan, We are going to paint the walls, to have a fresh new start. I will load up the paintbrush and get to painting. The room is going to have small specks of red, it suits me best. But I've got to admit that I lived my life up to its fullest. Lighting up a cigarette and placed the paintbrush in the palm of my hand. I'm gonna set it down and I'll let you know how the room turns out tomorrow. I had left a note on the counter for my mother and my brothers, it's basically telling them to not come in until the paint dries, well I'll write later, Goodbye.

3:46 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Roses:

Blaire Helm

Sex: F

DOB: 08/23/1963 (17)

Hgt: 5'6"

Eyes: Green

Cause of death: Suicide

DOD: 04/18/1980

We had responded to a report of a teenage suicide yesterday night, a distraught mother had dialed 911 crying about her daughter being dead. When police arrived at the scene it was in fact Blaire Helms in her small apartment bedroom. She was lying on her left side with a gunshot wound to her right side of her face, the shotgun laying behind her back and the walls dusted in blood. No one knows why Blaire had committed suicide, people usually called her sweet and caring. No suicide note was found and police are still investigating the scene of the crime.

Drug reports:

Cotinine: 45mg

Alcohol: 1.4oz

Adderall: 75mg

Tylenol: 1200mg

Subject transferred to autopsy room for opening, nothing found within the patient, the mother will soon arrive to finish the paperwork.

- M.D Green

--

Another Author's Note:

I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, I spent only a few hours on it so it's not professionally done, again pls call 911 if you or someone you think might consider suicide or committing a crime. Thanks again, take care

- L.L

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

Hi, I'm changing the format of my links to the other chapters because I'm running out of space, I took forever I know, but I hope you like it.

First Previous Next

Chapter 9: Red Fire

In the middle of a dirty road a blue BMW 3 series belonging to Jonathan Norbury was surrounded by at least half a dozen of agents, when Hardy arrived however they couldn't tell him anything important, except that the suitcase was neatly packed and had some documents inside.

"Something in the glove compartment?" He asked one of the guys that was classifying the findings.

"A two way train ticket to London, tuesday at 9:00 am and back Sunday at 5:00 pm" he start, and showed him the evidence bag, "Condoms, a lighter, and some spare change" He listed and he momentarily observed the bags, and a small black tube call his attention.

"What's that?" He said picking it up and examining the object "Give me a pair of gloves"

He opened the bag and take out the cylinder, it was a lipstick he opened and could see the worn out product of a bright shade of red. And he looked at the cap one more time, it had engraved "My Goddess" over the brand logo.

"Big spender huh?" The agent said.

"What do you mean?" Harford said looking as puzzled as Alec at the lipstick.

"It's a Giorgio Armani lipstick, in the shade Red Fire but it's personalized, you can ask for engraved gifts in that brand, it's quite expensive" He look a little embarrassed by their even more curious look "My daughter makes YouTube videos" He said trying to explain himself "I listen to what she says and help her buy stuff" and then in a professional voice he add "It was under the passenger seat"

"Well, make sure is classified and don't take it home, is not your tone anyway" Harford said trying to joke with the officer and hide a proud grin when Hardy hide a small laugh.

SOCO Brian Young was enjoying lunch with his girlfriend, and even when her mind was still on the case she was trying to be polite enough to have a light conversation with him.

"Have you thought of what I asked you?" He said after the waiter left their food on the table, it was a nice quite terrace, but Ellie's mind was somewhere else.

"Ahh yeah, I have" she said a bit blindsided by the question "Look Brian... I have loved our time together and I know it makes sense to move in together..."

"Move in together?" He asked trying to sound surprised by her remark, preventing the upcoming disaster "No, I meant of spending next weekend away on the City,I mean you are going to need a break and I'm sure Tom will like it"

"Oh" She sighed in relief "Sure, I mean I hope this is clear by then, but I will love too, I'm sure my boys will like it" She was about to add something about his other proposal but then the reflection of a pair of sunglasses caught her attention "Would you excuse me just a second I have to use the bathroom"

He nodded and watched as she walked away thinking that maybe it was for the best to give her more time if that meant more chances to get the answer he hoped for. Because besides everything he was in fact falling in love with her.

"Excuse me, madam." Ellie said to a woman that was fixing her make up in the mirror "Are you the principal from Broadchurch Primary School?" She said politely, not entirely sure about what had driven her to speak up.

"Yes, I'm Annabel Saunders, pleasure to meet you" She was an older woman probably in her fifties, yet she had a proper way of talking, and a slightly Scottish accent "You are Ellie Miller, Mother of Thomas, I remember you from a few years ago. How can I help?"

"I'm so sorry to ambush you like this, but I was wondering about one of your employees, Miss Y/L/N, and what could you tell me about her, when was the last time you saw her?" She said.

"Well last Friday of course, she ask me permission to leave early, poor thing, had a terrible headache, I suggest to take her home but she said a friend was picking her up. And since she had to work the weekend with the elderly and the troublemakers I left her go, who could have thought of what was coming to her?" She said changing completely Y/N recollection of the facts.

"So you didn't saw her last Sunday?" Ellie asked trying to not sound alarmed.

"Oh no Detective, some of my personal works the weekend with special classes for the old, or to regulate their students. But I'm not always present. I'm sorry is that important? I have her assistance card at the school, you can go look at it, I'm heading there" She said and Ellie nodded yes, before going away to make an gave a hurried excuse to Brian.

Mark Latimer was playing with Lizzie and Freddy in backyard, while Beth took pictures on her cellphone, it was simple and beautiful domestic pleasure, one that you never got to experienced, and now you'll never will, your mind said and the tears fight to cloud your view again.

It was curious, you haven't make your mind about the kids thing, but Jonathan did, maybe it was another excuse to keep you inside of the house, but maybe you wouldn't mind to have a beautiful baby with his eyes... no you couldn't keep like that, you centered your attention in thee dishes that you offered to wash since your stay had been prolonged now that detective Hardy haven't found somewhere else for you to stay.

Alec Hardy, you have listened to him screaming trough the door in Dr. Florence waiting room the Wednesday of the previous week "AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO KNOW ABOUT MY SEXUAL LIFE OR MY FAMILY" but it wasn't his fault, therapy could be a nerve wrecking experience.

Nevertheless you couldn't forget the first time you saw him. It was Sunday after the bar incident, and you made an appointment with the shrink to calm down Jonathan and for Ashley sake.

He was there wearing a cozy navy blue sweater, it was nicer than his usual suits, but he was too focus pretending to read a magazine to pay attention to you. Not like you wanted him too, but since he had picked Freddie a couple times at the primary school you have been curious about what could be so sad in his life to have that expression on his eyes.

It was finally your turn, and you stand up to get inside, maybe the sudden movement made him react but for a brief moment his eyes were on you and you couldn't help it and gave him a smile, and he take you by surprise smiling back. But before he could say something Jonathan was already arguing with Dr. Florence to get inside.

He was like that when he cared about something, ridiculously obstinate, like with his electronic shop, when he spend two weeks building some benches for the church, and wanting to marry you against his mother wishes...

"Shit!" You had press a wine glass to tight and it broke in your hand making a cut on your palm, and the blood began to spurt rapidly, it was so red, like Jonathan's blood in your wooden floor, like his shirt... who was that?

You tried to found a paper towel to stop the bleeding, and suddenly a succession of memories invade your head, he was wearing a red shirt and smell like bourbon and coke, he smiled at you at the club... bur you couldn't place his face, and then Jonathan was screaming at Ashley at home, it was all your fault.

And now he was dead, that was also your fault, You did this a voice keep saying in your head, No I didn't, I didn't, please stop saying that... you keep repeating it, but the voice screams louder, and the pain in your hand is growing, the memories begin to swirl in your head, the letter the two pages crumbling in your hands, Jonathan's car, where have you left it? And you couldn't keep this thoughts from coming to your mind, and your inner voice was not strong enough to make them stop so you had to scream.

"IT WASN'T ME, I DIDN'T, I SWEAR I DIDN'T DO IT"

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