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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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🛀🐎🍷 with Raymond

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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Trouble Bath

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, giving Ray a blowjob while you’re sitting in a bathtub Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 🛀🐎🍷 (key words are in bold)

A hot bath is the answer to all of life’s troubles.

Of this you’re convinced as you soak in the tub with a glass of merlot, candles set on the ledge to suffuse the whole room with a soft golden glow. All your worries dissolve as you bask in the bliss of the bubbles.

That’s when your damn phone rings. You figure it has to be work ‘cause at this hour only your bitch of a boss would be bothering you with ‘incredibly important things.’ Fucking hell. With a loud groan you reach your sud-slathered arm out of the water and dry off your palm on the towel nearby before grabbing your cell.

You don’t bother to check who it is, just assuming it’s business, as you place the phone on the tub ledge and set it to speaker to answer the call. But it isn’t the boss bitch at all.

Well, it is a boss bitch—it just isn’t the boss of your office. Instead it’s the blonde bearded bitch who runs gangster shit all across London and shows everyone who the boss is. The bastard who happens to be just as flawless as he is lawless. You’re a close friend of his, though you’d rather be more to be honest.

Raymond Smith doesn’t know this. You’ve given him hints for fuck’s sake. But he’s too busy buried balls-deep in his own OCD ass to notice. You recently stopped dropping hints when you sensed that a chance at your ass wasn’t something he wanted to take.

At the sound of his voice you just sip at the dark scarlet wine in your glass. Trying not to be bitter that Raymond wants nothing to do with your ass. It’s a good fucking wine, but compared to his gorgeousness nothing seems fine.

Ray just called to ‘check in’ which is absolute crap. Total bullshit. He knows you had made plans for dinner with some random dick from a dating app. Knows this because he was there in the room when you scheduled it.

“I thought you had a date,” Raymond states.

The audacity?! Where is he going with this exactly... “Maybe I’m running late.”

“Or you cancelled on him. Perhaps deep down you know you don’t want him.”

Your jaw drops in shock. Just a little ashamed that you wish he were here to stuff it with his cock. “Y–you know nothing of what I want.”

“I know more than you think,” he says it like a taunt, like he knows he’s a whole fucking kink, and that shit hits you right in the cunt. Rub your eyes with a blink. This is so troubling. Set your wineglass down on the tub ledge with a clink. Craving something quite different to drink.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at—”

“Invite me in and we’ll see about that.”

“Invite…?”

“I’m at your front door and I know where you keep the spare key so just say the damn word and I’m coming inside.”

When Ray Smith requests entry he’s never denied. You tell him that you’re in the bathroom and ten seconds later he’s standing right there, slaying you with the blue of his stare. He says something about how he just kept imagining you out with some other man tonight. Says it just didn’t sit right. Says he’s tried to hold off for the sake of your friendship but now his desire for you has hit heights he can’t fight.

You can’t even remember just what you said next but your words clearly give him a very green light. Next thing you know he’s freeing his cock from his jeans and you die at the sight.

“… Ray, you’re hung like a horse.”

And he knows it of course. All the lust he spent so long suppressing now radiates off him with force. “If you want this it’s all fucking yours.”

***************

You’ve never wanted anything more.

Started salivating like a goddamn madwoman the second he stepped through the door—or before—when he called you the rasp of his voice summoned your inner whore.

Before that even, honestly. Just at the thought of this man you’re on fire beyond believing. Constantly. For so long you and Raymond had been thick as thieves. And you are still, but you need him so bad it kills, and his big dick is thicker than thieves or whatever you figure as he stands beside the bathtub with his meat hanging out, right in front of your mouth, and slowly and deliberately rolls up his sleeves.

Fucking rolls up his sleeves. As if this is a task that he takes very seriously. You don’t doubt that it is really. You’re just as serious too about taking in what you’re about to receive.

You shift clumsily till you’re kneeling in the tub, water sloshing around as your torso lifts up. Tits still partially covered in soapy white bubbles but Ray can see more than enough. At the sight he licks his lips and growls low and rough. It’s a faint sound because he’s too much of a gentleman to be a bona fide beast, but with you here the least gentle facet of him is released, and it’s savage and tough.

Icy gaze pierces straight through the suds. Fierce enough to draw blood. Yet it’s soft and controlled; he’s a man who knows well how to manage the power he holds. Turns his gaze to your open mouth drooling so desperately his dick might drown in the flood. “Such a good little slut.”

Hoooly fuck…

He twines one of his hands in your semi-damp hair, as the other grabs onto his shaft that’s so big it’s not fair, and guides it toward the gaping wide hole that exists just to suck.

Flick your tongue in a fluttering lick first. Swipe over the tip, to lap up the sweet dewdrop that drips, taste the flavor that satisfies your every thirst. Your cunt throbs underwater and already feels like it’s going to burst.

“Mmm, that’s it love,” Ray hums in approval while towering so tall above. “Show me how much you love it. All of it.”

Your sorry attempt at a yes sir is muffled by his massive meat, as you instantly take his cock so deep you’re destined to swallow it. Open your whole throat and hollow it. Swell of desire inside you keeps building in frantic heat. Heart hammering at a spastic beat. All you can do now is follow it.

There are no words for just how good he tastes, as his cock slides across your slick tongue while he grabs a firm hold of your skull to start fucking your filthy whore face. So delicious. Your loving eyes roll back in bliss. Lashes batting in ecstasy as he pumps deeper past your lips and picks up the pace. He knows you live for this. Now that he finally has you he gets off on knowing you’re his.

From the moment Ray called you tonight, as if he had a right, you really should’ve known he spelled trouble. The troubles you seek to escape when you’re bathing in bubbles.

But here with his dominant presence demanding you worship his dick which is so damn divine… trouble’s honestly just fucking fine. You would much rather guzzle his cum than a bottle of wine.

And he knows it. He always knew it. Fought against going down the steep slippery slope of this path, but at last now he chose it, and once he’s done filling your throat up he’ll slip with you into the bath. Wash away all your trouble then take you to bed where he’ll fuck you right through it. Just the way only Ray Smith—the boss bitch of London who finally has you as his good little cockslut to play with—can do it.

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rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

Spooktober || Day 7

Bravo Team x Reader

Spooktober Masterlist

This Months Writing

Having a pumpkin carving contest Bravo Team

The moment you walked into the makeshift briefing room on base you were so fucking confused. Mainly at the fact there were now at least a dozen pumpkins in the room. Each place at the table had a pumpkin in with a set of the shitty carving tools next to it. The table that was once covered in files and documents was now covered with newspaper and rubbish bags alongside the pumpkins.

Where the fuck did they come from?

As everyone started piling into the room they all had the same confused expression as you did all except Sonny who was smirking proudly. Glancing over at Blackburn you swore he was going to explode.

“Right I’ve got a question,” you said, raising your brow at Sonny. “How the fuck did you managed to smuggle 12 pumpkins on the god damn plane?”

“Urm simple I put them in my crates,” Sonny smirked proudly at his little achievement.

“Okay next question,” you said as you took the coffee from Metal as you sat down in your usual spot. “Why the fuck did you smuggle 12 pumpkins on deployment with us?”

“Come on get with the programme,” Sonny huffed, “it’s Halloween today and you can’t have Halloween with a pumpkin carving competition, so me being the genius that I am decided to smuggle pumpkins with us, now sit down, shut up and let me tell you the rules,”

“Sonny we aren’t children,” Jase huffed, as he sat down ripping open the pumpkin carving set, “we know how to carve pumpkins,”

Rolling your eyes at your team and brothers, it was meant to be a simple task, you draw the design on, carve a hole in the top, dump the guts out and hack into your pumpkin.

It was meant to be easy. But this was Bravo team we were talking about. Chaos followed them wherever they went.

Already Clay had broke his carving knife so he whipped out his flip knife, Sonny had already stabbed himself 6 times and counting so his pumpkin had specs of red from his blood all over it, Blackburn was losing his shit and refused to participate in childish activities and Metal was on his second pumpkin due to losing his shit and smashing the original one to bits.

“Still think a pumpkin carving contest is a good idea Quinn?” You smirked, instantly being flipped off making you howl with laughter.

Even though this had turned into a stressful afternoon it would be memories you would never forget.

@chibsytelford @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @innerpaperexpertcloud @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @heathermann200 @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub @hippyprincessxx @sgtxliptons86 @lovemissyhoneybee

#rebels spooktober #seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine

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bravo-four-seal-team · 3 years

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Chapter one

@theysayitscrazy @rebelwrites @thelovelyleo23 @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @disasterfandoms @hails-halstead @milfdeacon @jasonbabymama @innerpaperexpertcloud @abby-splace @softi92 @itsonautopilot @velvetcardiganbucky @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @supervalcsi @fourthwallhateclub @chibsytelford @kobababy @lemons-are-tasty

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Summery: Eric Blackburn has been raising his daughter Skye for the past 3 years alone, no one knows about Skye except two people Adam Seaver and Ash Spenser.

"You know to be good for Uncle Adam?" Blackburn signed to the little girl, who watched him and nodded.

"Yes, daddy" she signed back, before hugging her father tightly "I'll miss you, be safe" she signed before she spotted her uncle and charged over to him, launching herself at him for a hug.

"Sorry about this being so sudden," Blackburn said, looking at Adam, who had picked Skye up.

"Don't be, go deal with the idiots" Adam chuckled, quickly signing to the little girl about getting pancakes, as Blackburn waved them goodbye, before he got in his car and drove to base, this mission was going to be tough, Mandy had been trying to get it greenlit for months now, finally everything was a go.

Everything had been going to plan until the VSP showed up at HAVOC. “We need to call it. Go! Initiate siege protocol.” Blackburn said, as everyone began moving to do what he needed, as he walked to get the gear he grabbed his radio.

"Bravo 1, in the blind. Havoc's been compromised. I say again, Havoc's been compromised. Bravo 1, Havoc has fallen." Blackburn had called over the radio.

He’s moving down to the garage to secure the door with Seth, when the VSP breached the door, Seth was killed on impact, from the force of the blast sent him backward, shrapnel embedding itself in his leg.

He ignores the pain, pushing through it, he needs to get his people out of the building and to safety, he's grateful for the dark trousers he has on to hide the blood.

But it didn't hide his limping.

He’s got a plan, placing a grenade under the chair, when the VSP knocks into it, he’s hit again by a smaller piece of shrapnel to his shoulder, he moved quickly after taking down the other men, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder.

When they were flying home, that's when he knew something was wrong, he stumbled, knocking over some of the gear passing out. The team witnessed the whole thing and their route was cleared for an emergency landing.

Trent curses when he sees the wound, of course, Blackburn hid his injury, he started shouting at people to get him what he needed, his priority was to stabilize their commander before they landed.

Bravo all agreed, they'd wait at the hospital until Blackburn was safe.

Adam came rushing in, carrying a little girl with him, the team was all confused as he passed Skye to Metal and proceeded to go find out where Eric was and what happened.

"Hi," Metal said, frowning as the little girl squirmed out of his grip, she didn't want this stranger to hold her, she wanted her dad or her uncle.

"Not so fast," Jason says, trying to stop the girl from running off, surprisingly it was Cerb that stopped her by grabbing the back of her shirt.

Eventually, Adam came back, and Skye ran to him.

"Where's daddy?" Skye signs to Adam, staring at her uncle, wanting answers about where her dad was.

Adam sighed, kneeling "your dad was hurt sweetheart, he's in surgery, these men are going to look after you while I go to the base, these men work with your father" he signs, he spots the boys staring at them.

Jason was the first to say "Your kid is deaf?"

"Eric's kid. She's selective mutism... Has some hearing problems... Uses sign language." Adam talks calmly, watching Skye cuddle up with Cerb.

"Blackburn has a kid and never told us?" Ray says, a little shocked.

"Not my story to tell,” Adam says, signing to Skye “Please be good for these men? They’re going to take you home while I find out what is going on with your dad”

“Okay” Skye signed slowly.

“Take her to this address, these are the keys, take care of her.” Adam said, looking at Jason “She’s all Eric has left.”

#seal team #trent sawyer #b4writes #clay spenser #scott full metal carter #jason hayes #sonny quinn #brock reynolds #ray perry #eric blackburn #Adam seaver #Oc: Skye Blackburn #tw: injruy #tw: hospital #tw: deaf character #tw: selective mutism #no beta we die like men. lol #Silent World Universe #multi chapter

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finiteuniverse13 · 3 years

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home is people, not a place 2/?

Part 1

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.

She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.

She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.

The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.

(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)

The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.

Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.

All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.

She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.

“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”

She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.

“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”

She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.

“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”

Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.

“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”

Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”

A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.

Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.

“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”

TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”

This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.

Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.

“No murder, and no death.”

This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.

Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”

Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.

“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.

“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.

Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.

As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.

“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.

“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.

Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.

“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.

“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please

Sonny freezes. What?

“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.

“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”

For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”

Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.

“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.

And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.

Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.

Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.

“How are you feeling?”

Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”

Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.

“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?

“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.

Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.

Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”

Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”

Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”

It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”

Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.

Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.

Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.

Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.

Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.

Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.

Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).

Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.

Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.

The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.

They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.

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acesiai · 7 years

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Ya’ll are gettin my story anyways

“Lost and Found”

It’s 12:00 AM on a Friday. A young man makes his way to his job, in the Boston Museum of Witchcraft. It’s already dark out, with the street lights lighting up the road as they go along. A couple of cars drive by, but are paid no mind by the young man. What is this man’s name anyways?

>Dimitri Chandler.

Ah yes, Dimitri Chandler; a college student, with a night shift job, and insomnia. A wonderful combination. He is on his way to the museum as a security guard. Why? He needs the money. And besides, he’s always had an interest in this type of stuff. He goes around the back, since going in through the front seems a little extra. The young man makes his way in through the back door, flicking the light switch on by the door. It takes a moment, but the lights flicker on. This room is old and musty. It smells of dust, and… Oh. Someone might’ve left their lunch in here. Disgusting.

Bzz, bzz, bzz. That must be your phone. Better answer it, might be important! Or, you can do your job, like any other sensible being.

>Check your phone.

I see how it is. You check your phone, it’s a text message from one of your friends, Tyler. He should be at work too. Both of you are irresponsible! Turns out, Tyler was just curious to whether or not you’d be home by a certain time. Which is rather odd, considering Tyler himself was rarely home at any given time. You ask him why, and tell him to make it quick, because you have work to do. My is he a fast typer. And up too late.

Text Log

Tyler: I was just curious dude. Plus Bryce wanted to ask you something about your job. He didn’t say what though. Said you might know. Dimitri: I’ll be home by 6. And if Bryce wanted to ask me something he can text me. He has my number doesn’t he? Tyler: You know how he gets. Dimitri: Just tell him to text me if he needs me. Tyler: You know he won’t. Dimitri: Well it doesn’t hurt to just let him know! He’s a person too Tyler. Tyler: You call him a person but he’s literally half horse. Dimitri: So? Horses can be people too. Perhaps that last part should’ve been left out. Tyler probably thinks you have some weird issue now. You put your phone on silent, and slide it into your pocket. You couldn’t help think about what Bryce wanted to ask you. Then again, Bryce probably wouldn’t ever tell him, since he’s so… Well shy isn’t the right word. Bryce is just different. And not human, so that could be it. Well, time to start your shift for real now.

>Start your shift, 12:15 AM

Flashlight! You’ve forgotten your flashlight. Check the drawers! There are always valuables in drawers.

>Scuffle through a desk drawer.

Well, it’s something. You’ve found a small, pretty small, flashlight. It’s about the size of your hand, shiny black, and it says something about (insert my school here) high school on the side! You are unsure where that is. Maybe it’s in the south. Sounds like a southern thing. You click the flashlight on, and start wandering about. This place is a little eerie, and it’s practically falling apart. Well not really. Somehow, it’s still structurally sound, maybe it’s just the decor that makes thi splace look so run down? That seems like the best guess. There’s all sorts of paintings, artifacts, if you could call them that at least, and some, well you’re not sure how to describe them. Summoning books? Or maybe they’re just spellbooks. Mind you, those are two very different things. But there are a lot of things here. Lots of them give you a bad vibe, you’re not sure why you keep your job here, but then there’s the mirrors.

>Consider the mirrors.

The mirrors! They’re set up in such a manner that they make you question if you’re really alone or not. It’s, disturbing to say the least. You approach one of the mirrors. It’s a nice one, at least to look at, other than that, this mirror could’ve ascended from hell and no one would be the wiser. Disregarding that fact, you notice something off about this one particular mirror. The glass looks fogged. None of the other mirrors, or windows for that matter, are fogged. Is the heat on? Or maybe the atmosphere is just… Off. Pretty odd. You reach your hand out, and touch the foggy surface. It’s freezing. The air around you is warm. This seems so, otherworldly. You’re getting antsy, and you wonder if something bad might happen; which, in this sense, would not be that surprising. It’s a dark, musty museum with a bunch of ancient mirrors, possibly from hell. Bad things are bound to this place, you’re sure of it. It’s quiet. “H̵e̵l̸l̷o̴?̸” Who would that be? You’re not sure. But one thing you are sure of, is that it came from the mirror. You start to get scared. But, why? You’re not positive if you truly heard it or not. “Can someone help me? I’m looking for my son.” Ghost! It’s a ghost! But is it? Is it really a ghost? Or are you just overreacting? Probably the last choice! You silly goose, there’s no such things as ghosts.

>Scream out of fear

Why would you scream?! This is a serious situation, a mother is looking for her son, and you scream?! “No! I don’t mean any harm, please don’t be scared…” You hear something, coming from the mirror. The fog, seems to be swirling around on the inside, you can barely see the silhouette of a woman. She’s dressed in white. Wait. There’s a bad myth about a woman in white. Bloody Mary! No. If that was Bloody Mary, you’d surely be dead by now. And there would be blood. But this woman, is all white. From what you can make out at least. “You there! Please, you need to help me! I’ve lost my son, I can’t find him anywhere, please…” She’s lost her son. That… You should help her. It would feel right. You speak up.

Chat Log

Dimitri: Miss? How can I help you? ???: Ah! You can hear me! I was afraid you could only see my visage… But have you seen him? Have you seen a lost boy? Dimitri: Well, throughout the day some kids wander away from their parents but… Uh, what does he look like? ???: No, he wouldn’t just wander away… He, he has red poofy hair, and his eyes are amber. He’s very pale and has a lot of freckles. His name is Bryce, please… Please tell me you’ve seen him! That sounds like the Bryce you know. You speak up. Dimitri: Is he, uh… This sounds weird, but does he have a horn and horse legs? White horse legs? And a tail? And like, lots of gray freckles? ???: Yes! Yes that’s my boy! Where is he? Is he safe?! Dimitri: Well, yes he’s safe but he’s not… He’s never mentioned having a mother. Or being lost for that matter, are you sure we’re talking about the same person? The woman pauses. She’s pretty sure that they’re talking about the same person. Her Bryce was still a teenager when he went missing. However, did it matter now? Would her Bryce remember her after all this time? … Perhaps not. But it is odd how he had not mentioned her. She had been the perfect mother! Bryce was never restricted, and never did anything wrong.

Chat Log

Dimitri: Miss? Are you okay? Should I try to contact him? ???: Contact him! Yes, yes please! I need to see my baby again! Dimitri: Alright, well give me a minute… The air around you seems colder. However, you shrug it off. You take your phone out, and text Bryce. Weird. He’s sent you a text. Why is he up so late? Maybe he just can’t sleep.

Text Log: 1 AM

Bryce: Mon ami! I am going to need you to not go near those mirrors. They are highly dangerous. Dimitri: Dangerous? How can a mirror be dangerous Bryce? Bryce: That one you mentioned to Tyler and I the other day! You said it descended from hell. Dimitri: I meant it as a figure of speech Bryce. Bryce: Well in any case you should not go near it. It gives me bad vibes. Dimitri: Gives me bad vibes too, but listen, this sounds weird, but there’s some lady in one of the mirrors. Bryce: Lady? Dimitri: Yeah! She was asking about you too, said she was your mom or something. “Has my child said something about me? Does he remember me?” The woman’s voice has changed. There’s an echo to it. In retrospect it sounds logical, for the voice in the mirror to have an echo; but it wasn’t there before. Is she closer? You turn your face away from your phone, and stare directly into the mirror. She’s right there. Her face, is gentle, and pale, her eyes are a hazy yellow. She stares at you, eyes piercing into your own. Her hair flows over her shoulders, going all the way down to the… the floor? It just seems very long. And she’s all dressed in white. There’s another noticeable feature. There’s a horn, coming straight out of her forehead. It’s decorated with jewels, surrounding the base of her horn. It looks almost identical to Bryce’s. She’s beautiful. It’s silent. Absolutely silent. You begin to feel uneasy. You have not given her an answer to Bryce. She still stares at you, waiting. Your phone dings. It’s Bryce. “I refuse to call her my mother. That thing, is not my mother.” You’ve read the text aloud. You look back at the woman. She’s gone. Or seems to be. You look around frantically, hoping to find her. All of the other mirrors are dim, there’s no trace of her anywhere. You look at your watch. It’s 1:15 AM. You’re confused to why everyone was so active. It is very late. You should look around. Look for that woman, and do your job.

>Check the North Wing: 1:30 AM

There’s nothing out of the ordinary here. No wait, there’s one thing. There’s a spellbook on the floor. It’s not open. Aren’t books always supposed to land on the floor and open to the right page? What a let down. You open the book, and flip to some random pages. There’s nothing that strikes you as relevant to what you’re trying to do. The only thing here are… Wait a second. There’s something called a summoning mirror? You’re almost certain that doesn't exist. You scan the section. This seems to be exactly what you’re looking for? You’re perplexed. Who put this here? And why is it so cliche? You shrug it off. You stand up, taking the book with you. Then you hear… Is that someone at the back door?

>Check the back door.

There’s no one there. You could’ve sworn you’ve heard knocking. Were your ears playing tricks on you? Or was there someone there? You close the door, backing into the wall. You’re frightened. But why? There wasn’t anyone there. You must have been hearing things. There’s no one out there. It’s just you, and the sense of impending doom creeping around every corner. “You know, I never raised my son to say such nasty things. And I certainly never raised him to befriend a pathetic human.” She’s there. She knows where you are. “I’ll just have to punish you for teaching my Bryce these awful things.” “Goodbye, Dimitri Chandler.” ~~~ It’s 6 AM, on a Saturday. It’s the end of Dimitri Chandler’s night shift. It’s quiet. The sun’s rays shine in through the windows in the back room, little dust particles dancing around in the rays. Earlier, this morning, there was an incident. There was a woman, dressed in white, looking for her son. She was trapped in a mirror. Then Dimitri found her. He offered her his help. Dimitri Chandler, a college student, with a night shift job, and insomnia, was found dead, at 6 AM, on a Saturday morning. The woman in the mirror, was in fact, a siren. A siren who used her charm, to find out more about her “missing” son. This siren, was an incredible liar. Her son was never missing. He had run away, out of fear, that his mother would turn him into her puppet, Bryce McClaude, the “missing son”, was the first to hear about Dimitri’s untimely demise. The texts Dimitri had sent, prior to his death, were quite disturbing. Cryptic even, if you could call something like this cryptic. B̵̦͈̙̿̈̏͜͠ŗ̸͙̅y̶̝͕̏͝c̸͎͍̰̞̉͂͐è̸̢̐ ̷̞́̈́͐̕ï̵̜̜ ̵̢̓͌͆n̶͚͎̞̟̈́͊̅ė̴̻̩̇̌̿͜ḙ̴͂̏d̸̺͈͐̅ ̴̙̫͗͊̅y̸̹͚͈̝͂̐͝ǫ̷̙̩̲̿̎̽͝ǘ̵͍̽͝r̴̡͍̄̕ ̶̪̮̝̥̈̒̀h̸̳́̉̕e̷̼̅͒̾l̸͙̥̪̊̽p̵̨̺͉̆̃

̶͔̔̆p̵͚̻̭͛l̴̗͑͜͝e̷̯̦͋̋a̷̟̖̩̬͐̕s̶͕͓̓͝ě̵͚̪̜̠͂̈́ ̵͝͠��s̴̢̘̈́̃h̴͚̚͝��ĕ̷̗̃̂s̷͖̮̑́̌͜͠ ̷͕̀̈́h̶̢̛̥̪̗e̷̼͈͇͈͝r̸̛̟͉̜ḛ̵͈͓̐̈ ̴̣̀̉͛̑i̵̳̐̑̅͒ ̵̞̀c̴͚̝̻̣̽ȁ̷̜͎̩̍͠n̸̳̩͎͚̒̉̄͛ ̷̖̣͍̃̓̈̋f̴̡̭̭͍͂͝ȩ̶̳̹͐̈́̄e̷̼͗̇̚͘l̵̬͋ ̵̮̠̟̬̄̂̋i̸̡̜̖͇̐̎̊͒t̶̙̼̳̿͝

̸̨̘̫̘͂s̵͈̯̙͔̀͆̎ḧ̵̡͔͙͚̅e̵̘̖̿̽̈́͆s̸͎̺̼͛ ̵̙̆̌̀̆h̴͚̀̉e̴̬̲̠͈̓r̸̭̮̤̾͊ĕ̴͚͒ ̶̪͓̗̰͆͛̇̀ị̸͋̈͋ ̷̻͋c̶̞̘͙͙͛a̷̘̻̲̎n̷͖͎͛t̸̢͇͌͋͝ ̵͇̖̺̻͌̈́͘ṡ̶̼̩̳͝é̷̃͜ė̶̼ͅ ̸̩̆ḣ̵̡̩̣́̄̕ę̴̡͈̘̉́͒͝ ̸͈̜̃́͝b̶̨̗̂̀̃ų̵͉͇͗́̉ț̴̂ ̴̪̦̥̥̓͌̀ș̷̺̍̑̕͝h̴̤́͂͘͘e̸̛̞̤̜͉̽̋s̷̬̐̈́ ̸̠̥̰͎͂̐ḥ̶͇͍͓̾e̴͎̖͆͗̀r̸̫͓̀̇͂͜͠ḙ̸͈͚̗̅

̷̛̣̜̳͓̃͌̕p̶̨̡̠̖͋͝l̴̫̉̔ẽ̴̺̤̲͓̎̐ą̸̠͍͍̀̋s̷̢̡̺͋̄ḛ̶̄́̓́ ̷̲̭̥̤̐͆͌̈́h̵͎͗́̊̉e̶̙̕̚l̵̜͎̍̋͗͒p̶̮̣͕̕ͅ ̸̼̥̳̜̾̐̏m̵̛̲͍̋͊ě̴̯͓̃̎ ̵̠̟̋̅̚

̶͑̃͜i̵͈̭͗͊m̸͍̭̒͐̃͘ ̶̩̩̰̈́͠ͅs̷̱̑̇o̴̝̗̦̓̑͊ ̸͎͙̭́s̸͓̠̬̎̈͝ç̴̩̩̾͑͝a̶͙̽͆̅̈ṙ̷͚͖́͗̚ë̵̯̥͍́͐̄͝d̶̢̬̱͠͝

̸̢͈̠̼̉p̵̩̥̂͠ľ̴̗̹͔͗ȩ̴̮̮̎̆̂͛ȃ̸͕̠ș̴̢̛̯́̽̕é̷̲̀ S̸̼̪̘͘͝H̷̩͗͌̎͠E̷̡͓̙̽́̇S̴̜̣̰̰̀̑ ̶̱̫̒H̴̼̑̄͜͜͝Ê̸̹͋R̵̢͓̮̃̃̒́E̵̗͕͍͍̍ ̸̡̩͛͑̍̍B̷̟͈̙̥̉͊̋R̶͚̗̂͋͠Ỵ̴̢̝̐C̵̛͚̐̐ͅÉ̷͇̱̰͇͑̾ ̶̖͍̭̑̔͠P̷̰͓͊̇̉L̶̘͛̀Ē̸͍̽Ǎ̶͕S̸̡͈͇̊̕͝Ë̸͍́ ̸̻̠̐͐́̔H̴̰͉͙̐͝E̵̘̗̯͋͜L̵̞͕̪͚̐̈̕P̷͎͙̪̐̓͑̐ ̸͇͇͉͛́M̵̘̹͙͌̓E̸̖̱͐̔̉̋͜ ̷̼̍I̶͖͂́̈͝ ̴̧̀͆C̸͓̅̚͝Ả̷̖͈͕ͅN̴͖̭̬̈T̷̲̓̀ ̵̮͚̼̈́͜B̴̨̗̗͓̈̉Ŗ̸̠͍̬̓E̴͔̬̠̤͗̀Á̸̧͙̂̐͑T̶̺̰̿̀̔Ḧ̵̢̯̫́͒̔̓Ȩ̶̬̟̹̈́͐̚

p̵̨̯̄̎̀̏ ̶̫̜͘͝͠ḽ̴͈̫̕͠ ̵̳̺͙̹̂̇e̷̡͕̥͙͒͝ ̴͔̹̮̹͗̏̿a̴̲̺̘͛͛̓͘ͅ ̷̯̪̪̟͆̈s̸̗͍͕̋ ̷̻̓͌͊͜e̶̩̅́͂͘ ḡ̶̜̘̰͋ ̸̠̟̔̏́ ̴̛̣̟ọ̷͍̱͇̽̎̾ ̶̬̓́͊͂ ̷̯̞͈̌̇o̸͈̪͝ ̶̢̟̪̗̄̐̑͝ ̷̠́͝d̸͎͓̈́̃̚͜ ̸͙̼̄̅ͅ ̵͚̬̪͙̿̚b̷̠͙͒͆͝͝ ̶̭̩̐̂̀ ̷̝̩̬̤̌ŷ̵̲̤̌́̀ ̸̟͂̂̓͒ ̶̥̥̫̞͊̕e̶̡̪͂ And then, Dimitri Chandler had ceased to exist.

He was gone. The Siren in the Mirror, claimed another, while her son, was out for her blood once more. And this, is merely the beginning. t̵̺̹͌͒͋h̷̨̊͆̾ȉ̸̡̼̭̘̻̄́̍̎̆s̸̡͉̩̱̜͋͜ ̸̖͚̠̬̥̃i̶͈̒̚ś̷̡̮̫̖͈̩ ̶̢̥͙̙̆͊͜ň̸̛̩̤̳̯̰͌͘ͅő̴̧͙̟͕́̕t̸̨͉̖̩́͆͠ ̵͕̃́͂͌ớ̸̪̟͓͍̬̩́̽̎̐v̵̘͓͋̃ě̷̢̮̠͈͎̮͌͂̎̉͝r̵̘͍͑̓ i̶͖̦̿̎̊̾̊m̸̭̳̭̲͇̦̗̙̭̤̭̀͆̎̒̏̾̍̓̈̀̚ͅ ̶̢͈͎̗̤̱̟͎̄̆̃͑̋̇̊s̶̢̱̻̩̤̞͔͍̞̯͎̮̏̈́̈̔̋̋͝͝t̴̢͙̜̂̏̀͛̄̔͛i̴̫̹̺̭͉̒l̵̨̨̹̥̘̖̻͖̜͓̮͗̈̋̀̔ͅl̶͖̫̇̓̓̊̒̅͋͘͝͝ ̶̣̯̯͌̈́͂͊͂̋̌̍ͅḩ̶͕̲̤̥̖̰̘̰̙̙͍̔̉̀̇͜͠e̸͎̮͗̈ȓ̷͇̜̩̰̗͉̰̌̋̓͆͜ȩ̶̧͉̙̮͉̭̖̫̗͉̥̓̌̃͂͘̕

#post #writing #short story #oc tags? oc tags #Bryce #Dimitri #The Siren in the Mirror #it sucks i know

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

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Valentine's Day Bingo: Pink - Connor Rhodes x Reader

Tagging: @lapricot @stxrryswvrld @cosmic-psychickitty @rosaliedepp @mrspeacem1nusone @sowrongitslottie @crazy4chickennuggets @shepgurl @upsteadlogic @cixrosie @burningpeachpuppy @i-spaced-sorry @handsupforamiracle @slytherqueen14 @queenslandlover-93 @thebejeweledwatercat @voidsteffy @shakespeareanwannabe @cerealreblogger @aaronhtchnrs @mysoulisasunflower @vermillionwinter @thebaileybugle @kotlclover2021 @neapolitantoebeans @joyfulfxckery @wnbweasley @evee87 @celilice1 @one-sweet-gubler @wooshwastaken @anime-weeb-4-life @99-reasons-to-live @legit9thlunaticwarrior @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @telepathay @iworldlywriter @nu1freakshow @nothinbtannika @whovianwholikesgirls @@angelicbxtch @altsvu @olymosity @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @district447 @sarahedwards16 @stelacole @abby-splace @kabloswrld @rawremodino

Hitting the Wearing Pink Bingo Square

When Connor first meets you, it’s in the Emergency Room on Valentine’s Day. You’re wearing a pink mini dress that barely covers your assets and fuck me heels. The left side of your face is smeared with blood, the vessels in your left eye an eruption of tiny starbursts. His heart sinks because there’s been a spate of attacks on working girls recently and he thinks he’s looking at a fresh victim.

He’s both right and wrong.

“Look after her alright?” Antonio Dawson tells him as you’re escorted into the medical bay. “She’s my partner.”

A cop then.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you were part of a sting to catch the guy whose been beating the hell out of those women.

“Did you get him?” Connor asks, pulling on a fresh set of latex gloves as you sit on the edge of the hospital bed.

Now that he’s up close, he realises it’s not as bad as he once thought. The blood seems to be coming from a cut above your eyebrow, it’s starting to slow at this point. It’s a big gash, he’ll have to have to stitch it. His work is neat, careful but you’re still going to have a scar, he thinks.

“He was in the ambulance behind me.” You inform him as he tilts your head up towards the light and begins to clean the crimson from your skin. “Trust me, he’s worse off than I am.”

He believes you. He can see the grazes across your knuckles as you flex and unflex your hand. Once he’s finished with the mop up he continues with the rest of his examination. He’s as gentle as he can be, his fingers poking and prodding the bones under and around your eye.

“Nothing’s broken.” He tells you as he draws away and busies himself removing the stitch kit from one of the stainless steel drawers in the corner of the bay. “ I’ll get you stitched up and then grab you something else to get changed into.”

It’s a professional courtesy and a human one. He knows that your night doesn’t end when you leave the hospital, you’ll be heading back to the precinct in order to complete your reports on the assault. He assumes you’d rather not do it in a blood stained mini dress.

“I’d appreciate that.” You tell him softly, looking down at the burgundy stains soaked into the fabric. “Antonio’s probably already waiting with the evidence bags.”

“I’m guessing this all came from the perp.” Connor says gesturing at your clothing.

“I had a push knife.” You say by way of explanation, your gaze straying to the gap in the curtain. There’s a flurry of activity on the opposite side of the glass, you can see Choi barking orders as they angle the stretcher into the bay beside yours. “I don’t think he’s coming back from that.”

“It depends where you got him.” Connor remarks as he begins the process of stitching your wound together.

“Neck.” You say quietly. “More than once.”

Connor doesn’t speak, his dark eyebrows furrow in concentration. You both know the guy in the next room probably isn’t going to make it.

“You must think I’m cold, the way I’m talking about killing a man.” You say softly, your gaze lowering to the cuts across your knuckles.

“No.” He says honestly as he finishes up his work, snipping the thread carefully. “I treated some of the other girls he hurt...”

He trails off, his mouth fixing into a grim line. You’re not the only one haunted by those girls, you can tell. You’ve seen the pictures, read the reports. He’s been up close with their pain, endured their suffering, their agony.

“I think you’re incredibly brave putting yourself out there like that, not a lot of people would.” He tells you, stripping off the gloves before tossing them into the medical waste bin.

You can read between the lines, you know what he’s not saying. These victims, they’re on the fringes of society, the people that others don’t give a shit about. He’ll be the first to admit he’s jaded, he didn’t expect the police to actually do anything about the problem, a waste of resources he had overheard one cop saying when he was working on the last girl.

“These women.” You say, shaking your head. “They’re just trying to put food on the table, support their families. They don’t deserve what happened to them.”

When he looks back he realises it’s your compassion that he fell in love with, your ability to see the person underneath all the noise. He sees it over and over again throughout the course of your relationship.

He isn’t sure why he’s replaying the day he met you, he thinks it’s because the fleece pyjamas you’re wearing are the same colour as the dress you were clad in that night. The two of you are tucked up in bed together, your body draped across his like a weighted blanket. His palms smooth over your clothing as he holds you close, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. He had never envisioned that it would end up like this, that the woman he met that night would become the one that devoted himself to, the one that he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Love Connor Rhodes? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes x you

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

Note

I have an ask for OA Zidan 🪻 The prompt is 15. A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don’t. Thank you so much.

References to upcoming series 'All That Glitters'

Tagging: @trublu2u @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @redpool @district447 @yousigned-upforthis @stelacole @abby-splace @delightfulheroshoeflap @alice30martini

OA tries to give a shit about Scott Forrester’s feelings, really he does. It’s clear you meant a lot to each other in the past, that Scott still bears the weight of the attack. OA can’t blame him, he would too. He tries to take all of that into consideration when he deals with the other man because it’s hard for him being around you, it’s hard for you too. You’ve started having nightmares again.

It’s when Scott suggests using you as the delivery girl for international sex trafficker Colin Kent that OA finally snaps.

“Hanna fits their target demographic, she looks young, vulnerable…” Scott’s face remains stoic as he says the next part, his arms folded over his chest as he leans back against the desk. “You need to channel what happened to you, use it make yourself as non-threatening as possible.”

OA sees the effect it has on you. It’s subtle shift but OA can read you like a book. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the clenching of your jaw. The fingers of your left hand curl into a fist and he can see the light tremble there when you flex them. It makes him want to punch Scott Forrester right in the mouth.

“He likes beautiful women.” Scott reminds them as he meets OA’s eyes, as if he can forget everything Kent orchestrated back in New York. He still dreams about Julia’s blood smeared all over his hands, he still hears her last breath. “He’ll step out to get a look at Hanna, she’s just his type.”

OA fucking hates him in that moment.

He waits until you leave the building before he storms into the other man’s office, slamming the door so hard behind him that the glass shakes in the frame. He can tell from the expression Scott’s face that he half expected this reaction.

“You don’t get to do this to her again.” He finds himself snarling as he jabs his finger at Scott. “You don’t get to revictimize her…”

“This is our best chance…” Scott begins but OA’s already cutting him off.

“But it’s not the best thing for Hanna.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t see the look in her eyes?” Scott snaps, vivid blue eyes boring into OA’s. “I’m asking her to do the exact same thing as I did back then and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

It’s the emotion in Scott’s voice that catches him off guard, the haunted look in his eyes. That devastation OA feels in his chest, Scott has it tenfold because he’s re-living what happened six years ago, the last time he asked you to go undercover.

“If there was any other way I’d do it.” Scott tells him, his palms resting flat on his desk. “But Vo’s too green and Natalia’s not the right fit… It has to be Hanna.”

Every single part of OA rallies against it despite the fact he knows that Scott’s right. He hates it, he hates this whole damn case.

“I am trusting you.” OA tells Scott, his voice raw as he speaks. “I am trusting you with the most precious thing in my life, if anything happens to her…”

Scott reads the undertone.

If you let something happen to her again…

“That’s why you’re coming with us.” Scott tells him, removing his Glock from the desk drawer and slipping it into his holster. “You’re going to make sure I don’t fail her again.”

Love OA or Scott? Don’t miss any of their stories by joining the taglist here.

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#oa zidan #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x reader #omar zidan x you #scott forrester #fbi international #fbi cbs #fbi

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imagineredwood · 19 days

Note

Okay I’m back with an idea for poly angel + coco…what if they’re on a run and while they’re gone someone attacks the reader in their home and the boys come back and find her unconscious? Maybe it can be a little yandere? Sorry hope this isn’t too dark. Just ignore this if you don’t want to write it ♥️🌸

Warnings: Mentions of a break in, blood, mild injury

They hate leaving you alone, but sometimes they don't have a choice

Bishop needed all hands on deck for this one and they had to go

They have a house alarm and have taught you how to defend yourself to the best of your ability

But they also know that they lead dangerous lives and nothing will be as good as having them there with you to protect you

And everything had been going so well

You'd spoken to them on the phone barely an hour ago when they had stopped for gas

You were tired, yawning and trying your best to stay awake to talk to them

You'd missed them like crazy

The phone call had been pretty quick but you had assured them that you would force yourself to stay awake long enough to be able to welcome them home

So when they walked inside to a quiet home, they chuckled, figuring that you must've not been able to fight off the sleep any longer

They expected to find you sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of the TV

So finding the couch empty was not what they had been expecting

"Maybe she finally said fuck it and went to bed."

Coco nodded, then shook his head at Angel's offer

"Nah. She would've sent a text."

It was then that they felt the breeze, the back door open, the handle broken

Someone had kicked it in

It didn't take long to find you in their panic after that, your body lying down in the hallway

You were Angel's only focus, his gun dropped and long forgotten while Coco cleared the house making sure there wasn't anyone still there

"Baby? Babe! Look at me!"

Angel's voice was frantic, eyes raking over your body to look for injuries

All he could see was the small gash above your brow, the blood already clotted and dry

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, your lids fluttering as you came back to

Coco was back in a flash, you his focus now that he had the house secure

"She good?"

Angel nodded, scooping you up into his arms

"Yeah."

They would coddle you all night, bringing you treats and loving on you, thankful that they hadn't lost you

Swearing to never leave you alone again

They would bathe you, Coco holding ice to your eye to stop the swelling

Angel cleaning up the mess

They would be soft and gentle with you, telling you not to worry about anything

But come morning, there would be hell to pay

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @cruzwalters @myakai13 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady @choochoo284 @whitetxilwxlf @ravennaortiz @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @blessedboo @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13 @cruzwalters @po3ticb3auty @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @lovelytricia @carma-fanficaddict

#🌸 anon #mayans mc #coco cruz #angel reyes #poly!angel x coco #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #headcannons #headcanons #wouldinclude

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

Note

Hey! Can you do prompt 40. You're the reason I feel strong, the reason that I am hanging on. with O.A. or Stuart Scola? Thank you

Companion piece to Connection

The move into Stuart’s place isn’t planned, it happens as a biproduct of a shooting during a joint ATF/FBI investigation. You had been right next to him when you’d gone down. He remembers hearing you cry out, the emission of air from your chest as you hit the deck, the sound of your head bouncing off the concrete.

He couldn’t see the blood not at first, he could only hear your ragged breathing resounding in his ears. It’s only when he sees the blood bubble on your lips that he’d realised the bullet penetrated the vest. Everything comes in snatches after that. The stench of copper in the air, the warmth of your blood on his palm as he presses down on the wound, trying to stifle the bleeding.

“Sasha.” He had pleaded. “Sasha, please stay with me.”

He remembers sitting in the hospital waiting for you to come out of surgery. His hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the blood that was ingrained in the indents of his skin.

You’d pulled through but barely. You’d woken up to room filled with flowers and Stuart’s fingertips brushing the hair away from your features.

“I bet I look like hell.” You’d mumbled, your hand coming to rest on his, clasping it to your cheek.

“No.” He’d said softly with that tender smile of his. “You look beautiful, I promise you.”

You needed help in the aftermath, physiotherapy. Stuart had insisted you stay at his place for a couple of weeks while you recover. Your injury had made even the simplest of tasks a hardship, you got tired easily, frustrated. Stuart’s there throughout, caring for you, smoothing over the rougher moments with his kindness, his compassion.

You stay with him for three months, until you get back on your feet. You’re surprised by how much you’ve enjoyed the domesticity. You’ve never felt that comfortable around another human being before, existing in the same space, living with him.

In the after that you barely stay at your own place anymore, you’re always with him, laughing, having fun, making love.

It's during one of those evenings in the kitchen, that you decide you’re going to marry him. You’ve never been the type of woman to settle down. Your relationships before Stuart were always quick to spark and fast to burn but as the two of you cook together in that kitchen you realises you want this, you want to spend the rest of your life with this man.

“Ask me again.” You say quietly, referring to his earlier proposal. “Ask me to marry you again.”

Love Scola? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @noxytopy @district447 @stelacole @abby-splace @luckyladycreator2

#stuart scola #stuart scola x reader #scola #scola x reader #fbi

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imagineredwood · 2 years

Text

“Let's get you home." - Yandere Miguel

Summary: You have a new boyfriend after breaking up with Miguel, but that’s ok. He’s never been a man to let obstacles stay in his way.

Pairing: Toxic Yandere Miguel Galindo x female reader

Warnings: Murder, blood, gaslighting, toxic behavior, kidnapping technically I guess

Word count: 444

A/N: This isn’t really much of a kink in the story but you can read/take it however you want to

A hiccup broke through your trembling lips as you cried, head hanging low as you remained on the floor. Shaky hands bracing you up, legs to the side, one foot bare; your shoe gone missing in the frenzy. The tears flowed, eyes refusing to look at the slain body of your new boyfriend. You'd only been together a few months, not nearly long enough to be head over heels in love nor soulmates. You care for him sure, but you didn't love him, not like you had loved Miguel. But that didn't make the sight any easier to stomach. His eyes wide open yet unseeing as they stared blankly at the ceiling above, mouth slack-jawed and paused in the scream that had transformed into a gurgle as the blood bubbled out of his mouth. The white button-down that was now more maroon than not, holes punctured around his chest where the air had escaped through rather than stay in his lungs where he needed it.

He was butchered. You, on the other hand, were unharmed.

Of course.

Miguel would never hurt you.

He let you get the sobs out of your system, wiping his bloody knife on a hankerchief before handing it over to Nestor. He looked back at you then, collapsed on the floor in fear and shock. He kneeled down beside you, hand reaching out to brush along you hair. You shrunk back but he either didn't notice or didn't mind, hand still stroking at your hair with a tenderness some would be shocked by. The same hand that had just speared a knife past someone's sternum. The same hand that had mockingly waved goodbye at the dying man in his last moments. He cooed at you, eyes soft and full of love.

"It's ok, princesa. I'm here now. He's gone. You can come back home with me now. Where you belong. I know he was just a distraction. Something to pass the time until you came back to me. You were taking too long though, so I had to get you myself. I know you don't mind."

You looked up slowly, eyes stinging from the tears, a small splatter of blood on your cheek from when your boyfriend had tried to call your name but choked. Miguel met your eyes and smiled warmly as he put his hands under your arms, helping you get up off the ground. He held you gently as you stared at him, frame still shaking. Thumb stroking against your cheek, he wiped away a few tears, looking into your glossy and bloodshot eyes.

"Come on. The house has been lonely without you. Let's get you home."

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @kaykaysuh @savagemickey03

@fanfic-n-tabulous

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13 @cruzwalters @yosoynicolexo @mrsstevenbuchananstark @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty @lyly00 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121

Miguel taglist

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @maciiiofficial @jatriciaaa @black-repunzel99 @ben-c-group-therapy @witchygagirl @xonickibaby @berniesilvas @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9 @kaykaysuh @angel-121

#miguel galindo #Mayans MC #miguel galindo x reader #imagines #mayans fx #dark!miguel #yandere!miguel #mayans imagine #miguel x reader #imagine

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Note

Congrats again on 2K. i’m so happy for you ❤️

For the emojis: 🔥☕️🚧

For the character: Jax, i feel like those emojis have a Jax vibe

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats! 💗

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Roadblocks Don’t Suck

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, car sex (quick & rough, light choking, Jax’s leather gloves (they’re a whole kink)) Word Count: ~1.4k Emoji Prompt: 🔥☕️🚧 (key words are in bold)

Jax Teller is a lot of things. Pussy-whipped isn’t one of them, but somehow when you ask for things he gives in to a ton of them. On some level in his alpha male soul that sort of stings.

He’s in the driver’s seat grumpy and grumbling like a five-year-old. You’re really in the driver’s seat with all the power that you hold, over the prince of Charming, destined to be king.

He lights a cigarette. The little flame matches his mood flickering sharply with resentment and regret, that he had caved to what you said.

“How’s your goddamn coffee,” he snaps, bitter and full of sass. Gruffly, to hide the fact that you can turn him into such a goddamn softie.

“It’s fucking lovely,” you proclaim, taking another sip and gloating without shame. This morning you’d asked Jax to drive your car to where the two of you are headed, rather than taking his Harley as he typically prefers instead. You wanted to sit comfortably with your coffee and finish up the book you’ve almost fully read.

He doesn’t know yet you were also hoping you could give him road head.

“Fuck!” Jax suddenly rasps as he steps on the brake just when you reach the end of your book, causing you to look up out the windshield in shock. It’s just a bit of bad traffic but your man sounds as furious as if your car was hit by a damn truck. “Ugh, there’s a fucking roadblock. This shit fucking sucks.”

Jax really just can’t deal with traffic at a standstill. He is seething, heavy breathing, living proof that looks can kill.

Glimpse flashing lights and obstacles with slanted black and yellow stripes to mark construction that’s in progress up ahead. Prince Fuming grits his bright white teeth around his cigarette like he wants someone dead. Possibly you. “See, bitch if we were on my bike I could’ve just driven right through…”

“Would you just stop? Here, I’ll give you a handjob,” you decide, casting your finished paperback off to the side. Sometimes—a lot of times—you’d rather make Jax Teller cum than hear him talk. “Shut up, just sit back and enjoy your smoke and let me stroke your cock.”

“What are we, fifteen-year-old kids? You’ll grab my dick and let me grope your tits?” he laughs, as you reach in his jeans to grip and squeeze his massive shaft. “Get down and suck.”

You take your hands out of his pants and cross your arms over your chest tightly, to tell him no such luck. “Maybe I would have if you’d asked nicely, you bossy little fuck.”

“You love it when I’m bossy.” Jax is well aware that his dominance gets you wet and juicy. “Know it hits you in your kinky little pussy.”

“You don’t know shit about my kinks,” you lie.

“You think?” he challenges with a dark glimmer in his eye. The heat of hell behind his smile. Glances out the window at the standstill traffic and decides to put the car in park so he can make this goddamn ride worthwhile.

Asking nicely isn’t really Jax’s style.

You can act like you don’t want it but there’s no point in denial. Every goddamn thing about him drives you wild.

When he wants something he takes it—bends your will to fight him off and fucking breaks it—snaps a finger and you’re naked—he makes sure you want it wholeheartedly too—but that shit’s never hard to do.

He always has you spouting off a senseless stream of oh God Jesus Christ Jax yes fuck yes in two seconds or less. Knows he’s your ever-living weakness. Face you see when you scream Jesus. Knows you’re his to play with any way he pleases. Knows just what buttons to press, to get his girl to be a wet whimpering mess.

Has you spread out on the backseat, shaking in heat, as he strips off your summer dress. Stays fully clothed because he knows it’s fucking torture when he doesn’t let you cleave against the smooth skin of his chest. Settle for clutching at the leather of his vest. The leather Jax Teller wears best.

Or is it…? Though you’ve never mentioned this before, Jax saw the sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours, when you watched his hands on the steering wheel clad in his leather gloves and thought that shit’s fucking exquisite.

To be honest it’s ridiculous that he’d wear leather gloves to drive a car. Today’s ride isn’t even far. You know it’s just so he can feel more like he’s riding on his Harley and it’s dumb as fuck but you don’t care about that given what a slut you are. Jax in the leather of his kutte is hot enough—but these damn gloves… they have you seeing fucking stars…

You’d wanted him to push your head deep in his lap while you bent down to suck him off. Feeling the smooth warmth of the leather in your hair and on your cheeks as you devoured his enormous cock and showered it with love.

He’d like that very fucking much, without a doubt, but in this moment he would rather see your gorgeous glowing face than have it buried in his crotch. More in the mood to fuck your pussy than your mouth. He wants to watch, the way your inner slut is spinning out—surrenders to his touch… the way your features melt, descending into ecstasy past anything you’ve ever fucking felt… as he traces his thumb across your bottom lip with one hand while the other frames your hips—taking you in his leather grip—tight as a belt, sharp as a whip.

And it’s insane the way it makes your pussy drip. Your brain is on a fucking trip. Can leather get you fucking pregnant? On the road the traffic’s still completely stagnant, but your man will have to get back in the driver’s seat again soon once the cars begin to move. There’s not a lot of time to get into the groove. No time for fun and games and foreplay—just a frantic feral fuck here on the freeway—love and lust one and the same to make and take when you two have nothing to prove.

Outside of sex, you know that it’s your job as Jax Teller’s old lady to continually kick his ego down a couple pegs. But it’s a different fucking story when he’s hovering above you and all set to shove his meat into the aching soaking heat between your legs.

A piece of prey for him to eat. To read your body as it breaks and burns and begs. Jax is the undisputed king when he has you spread in his bed or the backseat. And as his leather-clad hand wraps around your throat you gasp at how it feels so sweet because you know what’s coming next…

He applies just the perfect pressure and oh fuck you’ve never felt such perfect pleasure.

You can feel his power pouring through the leather. You can feel it pounding through your blood, as he plows deep inside your pulsing cunt, that fucking instant, with a savage fucking grunt, rock hard as he drives home and hits a flood, ‘cause you’ve never been wetter. You’re his fucking slut. Forever.

Two or three bucks of his hips—he sucks the prayer of his name off of your lips—tightens that leather fucking grip—your grip on consciousness begins to fucking slip…

Just came undone, though this had only just begun. He spills inside you that same second and you’re both sprawled on the seat sex-dumb and drunk.

Two seconds later all the cars outside decide to fucking honk.

He really doesn’t give a fuck. You’re both so bulldozed by the love you made you probably wouldn’t notice if this steamy little car of yours got totaled by a truck. Honk all they want for all you care—the two of you are far beyond the world out there—you’re stuck in heaven with no plans to come unstuck.

Maybe try fucking one more time to piss off everyone outside and push your luck.

Jax reads your mind because it’s his. Leather glove soft around your throat now as he smiles through a cigarette-and-coffee-flavored kiss. “Maybe roadblocks don’t suck.”

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

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imagineredwood · 3 years

Text

“Now sit still or you’re going to get an infection.”

Pairing: Coco Cruz x female reader

Warnings: Mention of blood and a mild injury but nothing crazy

Word count: 417

A/N: Just a quick little soft Drabble 💗

“Mama, stop. I’m serious.”

You pouted and whined, both at being scolded as well as the pain in your finger. You hadn’t been doing anything dangerous or risky. You were just trying to cut up a red onion for dinner. Now you were sitting at the kitchen counter with your sliced finger in Coco’s hand as he dabbed at the blood. He had been patient with you, as he always was, but you weren’t exactly being cooperative, and he was growing impatient with you.

“I need to clean it and patch it up. I can’t do that if you keep piling away. I know it hurts, but we have to do it. Now sit still or you’re going to get an infection.”

You nodded and swallowed, relaxing your arm and hand in his hold and allowing him to do what he needed to do. He grabbed the antiseptic and sprayed some onto the small piece of gauze, spraying your finger as well and then dabbing at it as gently as he could. You sat well and let him continue, looking away while he worked. He grabbed the tube of antibacterial ointment and dabbed some on, careful not to use too much pressure. He was done quickly after that, fastening on a bandaid to cover the cut and keep it clean. The wound care now done, he looked back up at you and smiled softly.

"See? Wasn't a big deal. You're ok."

You nodded and returned his smile, leaning forward to press your lips to his nose.

"Thank you."

With a nod of his own, he patted your knee and then stood up from in front of you, motioning to the kitchen where you half chopped red onion and knife lay on the counter.

"Let's just order out. We'll get something quick and warm. Just hop on DoorDash and order something, whatever you want. Let me clean up the kitchen."

He gave you another kiss and then made his way to the kitchen as you grabbed your phone and began ordering. Soon enough the order was placed and paid for, both of you settling down onto the couch together. Leaning into Coco's side, you cuddled up against him as he turned on the TV and resumed the last episode of the show you had been binge-watching last night.

"Thanks for cleaning my finger up, Coco."

The Mayan cocked a lopsided smile and tossed his arm over your shoulders, protective even in the safety of your own home.

"Any time, princesa."

General taglist

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13

Coco taglist

@maciiiofficial @emoengelfurleben @jatriciaaa @redpoodlern @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @witchygagirl @xonickibaby @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9

#mayans mc #coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #imagines #mayans imagine #coco x reader

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