#idk if this counts as death bc hes not dead yet but

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i absolutely fell in LOVE with your price fic holy shit. your writing is spectacular. then i read your request info and saw that you love keegan as well and my soul left my body.

So this is me requesting a keegan x reader fic bc i love this underrated man SO much!! maybe some enemies to lovers where one of them gets injured in the field and, thinking they're dying, a teary desperate confession ensues? lol im not good with prompts i just wanna see my man 🤧 thanks in advance i love ur work

(Don't) Go to War

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Angst, enemies to lovers, blood & gore, vulgar language, fluff & comfort eventually, suggestive (just a tiny bit)

A/N: Just a few more requests to get done, and then my inbox should be open again. I'm thinking I might do an independent Gaz fic too...but idk yet. Enjoy, Love!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Some days it became impossible not to yell at him.

“I had the shot, Keegan!” Your voice carries over the hull of C-23 Sherpa, and you didn’t bother to stay strapped into your seat as the aircraft levels out around you. Thrusting your body up, your feet slam to the floor as you stalk over to the silent man who watches you with burning blue eyes, “If you hadn’t gotten in the way the target would be six feet under by now!” 

Your face was twisted with rage, and a need for justice laced your brain like an inextinguishable blaze of fire. 

Keegan and you had a violent streak of not getting along - to the point where Elias was close to separating the two of you permanently. It wasn’t entirely your fault, the man just got on your nerves when he acted like he could boss you around. No Man’s Land was your playground; you knew the trails, where to take shelter when needed, and what towns and backroads to avoid because of Federation occupation. You spent most of your time beyond the walls of Fort Santa Monica just like Keegan and the other Ghosts did – he had no right to lecture you out here. 

He had no right to fuck up the mission.

“Kid,” The man in question warns, his form tense from where it leans against the wall. Around the two of you, the aircraft shakes from turbulence. Keegan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and behind the cloth over his face you see his lips thin dangerously, “I’d be careful what you say next.” 

“Oh, shut the hell up!” You growl. The dirt and blood sticking to your skin makes you want to scratch at yourself with blunt nails; rip away the grime. Stomping up to Keegan you stand directly in front of him, a sneer heavy on your lips. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, “You have no right to tell me that. I worked my ass off getting that intel on Vidal Teo for months just for you to mess up my shot in no less than three seconds. What the fuck?!” 

Keegan’s dead eyes glare from behind the stain of his black eye paint, the custom balaclava shifting as his hidden face moves. Over his arms, his fingers tense and tighten; a pulsing atmosphere begins to perforate the hull. The already strained rope was snapping.

Vidal Teo was a high-ranking commander for the Federation soldiers stationed in a large portion of No Man’s Land. He was instrumental in leading the frontal assault on the Fort – which had been getting steadily worse as the years went on. Vidal was a man marked for death, and your bullet had his name carved into the silver grooves. 

He was yours. 

“I don’t like your tone, Princess,” Keegan hisses down at you, but his intimidation tactics don’t work. He was large, sure, with a gargantuan build that made your shoulders square, but the anger in your blood pumped with vengeance, “I’m in command of the mission, don’t go mixing it around. You listen to me.”

“Not when Teo was right fucking in front of me,” Your head whips to the side, hands clenched as you point a single finger into the man’s chest. The two of you were so close you could feel his gear brush against yours when he breathed. Inside your form, your pulse sings, “If you hadn't fired that shot all of this would have been finished. Now,” You lower your voice as his enraged eyes bore into you, “He’s off in the damn wind. We’ll never get an opportunity like that again.” 

“Back up.” Keegan stands straighter, arms falling to his sides, and at that moment a sliver of hesitance makes its way into your heart as his shadow looms over you, “Now. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Clenching your jaw, your finger falls. No matter how pissed off you were at the Ghost, one thing he said was right. Keegan was in control of this mission – technically he was your superior at the moment. You should listen to him. 

Listen? Your eyes flash, Like he listened to me? I told him to not fire while I lined my scope up…Why the hell did he do that?

“The sooner you’re out of my life,” Growling, you stare deep into Keegan’s eyes and only slightly shiver at the intensity. You could feel his breath coming out in strained puffs, wafting over your face, “The better. This is on you…All of my goddamn work down the drain…” 

Jerking back as you grumble the last sentence under your breath, you storm past the Ghost’s stone-still figure and enter the cockpit, feeling his locked gaze on you the entire time. You slam the door shut, only serving to make the pilots snap their attention to you, mouths slack and optics wide.

“What?” You growl, glaring and practically releasing steam out of your ears. Damn that man and his stupidly handsome face…What?

The pilots quickly stutter back to their controls, backs straight, and heads forward. 

Blinking, you scrunch your lips; your sense coming back to you as your shoulders deflate. 

“Fuck,” Grumbling, you bring your hands up and place them on top of your head, lacing the fingers together as your elbows stick out. You glance remorsefully at the two stiff profiles, “Sorry, boys. Long day.” 

Elias was going to lecture you again. 

He always did when you and Keegan got into fights – they were becoming more and more recent in the past few months. From common disagreements about misplaced knives or weapons to full-blown yelling matches over accidents on missions, the recurring bouts of thrown words never seemed to end. 

You were so incredibly sick of it. 

Why were you always fighting with him? Why did every action strike you in the heart like a blade? You were always tense around Keegan, sending sharp glances at him every time he was in the vicinity and sharper words a second later. He did the same in return, it wasn’t like this was one-sided. The man was determined to push every button in the book, and damn it if you didn’t do that as well. 

Keegan was a man on a high horse; arrogant, hard-headed, rude, and held authority like a stick you could beat someone over the head with. He demanded utter perfection. 

Sighing violently, you lean back against the door and shove your palms into your eye sockets; head tilting back to rest on the cool metal and soothe the growing headache.

The problem was, most of the time the man was right when he told you something – whether work-related or not. 

“Tango to the left – weapons hot.”

“Contact Scarecrow, Exfil in five. We have a group just above the pharmacy building.”

“West, Kid. Snipers scope, take ‘em down.”

No Man’s Land was supposed to be your playground and all of a sudden some other kid comes along; starts throwing rocks at the equipment with a damn painted balaclava over his face. You didn’t want someone telling you how to do your job. 

Frowning, your teeth nash in annoyance. 

This flight back to Santa Monica couldn't end soon enough, and now you had months of Recon intel sitting in your office to throw into the trash.

—

You grabbed at the pinned-up files with paper-cut fingertips, looking over the contents before frowning. Tossing them to the side, your ears twitch at the flopping sound of them flying into the garbage bin at your feet. 

The bulletin board was bare of all the red yarn, maps, and intel that you had once hung up with pride. Vidal Teo was gone, and just so the board was once more empty. It was hard not to feel cheated, angry, but maybe a part of you felt emptiness as well. 

All of that work… just for one shot to mess it up. And the bullet wasn’t even from your own gun. 

“I swear,” You whisper, itching at your nose, “If I ever get up on a team with him again…” 

Trailing off, your legs shift and carry you to your desk where you throw yourself down into the chair. Thoughts of Keegan made your brain race, mind going to try and understand why. Even if you didn’t like the man, at least on the surface, you still respected him. 

So, why? None of it made sense. Why fire off into the city at an unidentified target and send Teo rushing for cover? Why not explain to you what had happened when you were back on the plane? If he had made a mistake and admitted that, you would have accepted it… eventually, of course, but you still would have accepted it regardless. You would have had to.

Licking your lips, you tap your knuckles onto the metal of your desk, playing a long-forgotten tune. You never heard the door open.

“Heard the Op didn’t go as planned, but at least the two of you didn’t kill each other. I’d have a helluva a lot of paperwork to do if you put a bullet in his ass,” Sitting up straighter your head snaps to the open doorway, seeing the stocky stature of Thomas Merrick with his arms crossed over his chest, “Still, though, heard ya’ nearly made those pilots piss their pants when you yelled at ‘em.”

“Merrick,” You groan out, tipping your head past the chair’s backing, your neck digging into the wood, “You’re acting like I try to be a bitch.” 

“Are you not,” When you glare at him, the man’s dark eyebrow raises slightly, “Because you’re failing at it – often. Elias’s at the end of his rope with you two.”

Grumbling, your nose scrunches, lips pulling back in a small snarl. 

“It’s not my fault. Keegan hates me just the same.” 

“That any excuse to yell at a superior?” Merrick sighs, shaking his bald head and walking forward, “Thought I trained you better than that?” 

Your eyes flicker to his own, but seeing the blatant disappointment in them, you find it better to look at the empty bulletin board. Swallowing stiffly, your feet shuffle on the floor. 

“Look at all my work, Thomas,” Shoving yourself to your feet, you walk to the small garbage bin and pick it up; holding it aloft, you watch the Ghost’s Field Officer's lips thin. There was a mass amount of wasted paper, pictures, and yarn that caught his eye. You go and slam it onto your desk, hearing the clatter as the pencil holder falls to its side, “Wasted. Because of one man’s actions – how many people are going to die now because I couldn’t make the shot? Ten, twenty, thirty…?” 

“Kid–” Merrick begins, but you cut him off – still angry at Keegan and trying to strangle down the guilt of pushing it onto Thomas.

“If you don’t mind, Merrick, I have a shit-ton of reports to sign and no time to do them,” Once more flopping back into your chair, you rub your hands over your face and feel the skin pull. If you were anyone other than yourself, you would be getting a reprimand for interrupting a superior like that but Merrick was something of a friend to you. 

Closing your eyes, you let the darkness behind your lids flood you as you take a deep breath. 

The Ghost leaves after a moment without noise or a sound of encouragement, but that was just how he was. You feel his dark eyes on you, lingering, before he closes the door behind him and stalks away. 

Finally left alone in silence, you let your thoughts run to try and answer the age-old question that ravaged your mind.

“What happened to make us like this?” You whisper, hands falling to your lap as you stare off into the distance with blank eyes. 

You had never given it much thought – sometimes people just didn’t like each other. Ingrained enemies written into the annals of time and cursed to forever be at each other's throats like rabid animals. But then you realized that this wasn’t high school and you were an adult living in a fucked up world full of death and war. Coworkers no longer had the privilege to talk shit about the other behind their backs or not communicate their problems; being out in No Man’s Land forced people to compromise and work together like a well-oiled machine. 

And well-oiled was not the way to describe yours and Keegan's relationship…more like a run-down and rusty car that screams every time you turn the key; practically begging someone to put it out of its misery. 

Blinking, you realize, perhaps for the first time, how much of a problem this predicament with Keegan really was. 

This could kill us both.

All of this began, you knew, a long time back, and, as it usually did, it had started out beyond the Fort before bleeding back into the ramshackle place you called home. The both of you were enemies far longer than you had been friends.

Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your temple and slipping the expanse of your chin, but still, you stood outside Elias Walker’s door with a tense jaw; fingers itching to rip into Keegan’s flesh. They were speaking inside, their voices hushed as your boots pooled mud and dirt onto the floor like a brand. 

“She…went over the ridge?” Elias asks, voice deep, “And she’s alive?”

“Hm,” Keegan makes a savage noise in the back of his throat, and you have to hide your panting breaths to hear it. The damn bastard was always so silent any sound would perk your ears, even if they were ringing with reverberations of spent bullets.

“Then I don’t exactly see what the problem is, Keegan.”

A pause.

“...She’s impulsive. Combative. Doesn’t listen,” There was an inhaled breath, and you feel your face burn at the profound gravel-toned words, lungs making your chest tighten as they zip closed as a bag would. But those next comments make you growl in the back of your throat, rage like fire in your heart, “I don’t want her. Kid’ll get the people she’s placed with killed if she’s allowed to do that again!”

A sigh through the shocked silence. 

“Then what do you suggest I do? She’s a valuable asset, I can’t just ground her – the Recon work she does is vital to finding Federation strongholds.”

“I don’t care what you do with her, Elias. Just keep her far away from me and the boys. Kid’s not my problem. Never want her to be again.”

Whatever harsh words are uttered next are lost to you, because your legs are already carrying you down the corridor with brimming tears stuck in the corners of your eyes. 

It was more the way he said it than the contents of the clipped sentences. Like you were less than him, pathetic, and unworthy. Nothing more than a rookie holding a gun and parading off into the wilderness to have a good time. That was what wrecked you.

The next time you saw Keegan it was only narrowed glances and clenched fists; terse words. When you snapped at him for the first time, you swear his eyes slightly widened, cold blue one second then boiling bright the next.

You liked that look on him – shocked into a different type of silence. A type of anger you could meet head-on.

Fighting with Keegan soon became too addicting to ignore, a constant activity that never changed like the destroyed world always did. A failsafe at the end of the day. 

 The anger had never dimmed, infecting you like a poisoned worm stuck in your veins and weaseling its way to your heart. It had only grown the longer you let it sit, and at the end of the day, you festered over the image of the Ghost’s face with his eyes digging into your skin. You stayed awake at night mulling over the arguments, taking the insults and words like bullet wounds to your heart with barely restrained tears; feeling guilty because you threw some back as well. 

But what hurt you the most was that, before the hushed meeting in Elias’s office, you had looked up to him. To Keegan. Perhaps you had even enjoyed his quiet company at one point when the loneliness of No Man’s Land got to you. The terrain was incredibly quiet in between the violent hails of gunfire and, on occasion, it would make paranoia infect your bones like a cancer; producing shaking limbs and tense fingers. When Keegan was with you…you hated to admit this, but he made the silence better. More survivable compared to when you were alone doing Recon with only a gun and a combat knife as deadly companions. 

Your narrowed lids flicker to the trash bin on the desk. 

There was still a small pinch of anger – resentment for the waste and for words spoken in haste – but your mind pulsed to find an explanation. A reason. 

There must be a reason that Keegan would fire off a shot into the city prematurely…obviously it was to hit a target, but why? And why hadn’t he told you the reason? 

I’m gonna rip my head apart if I keep thinking this over, You warn yourself, huffing under your breath. 

You had reports to write up – tell of your failure to kill Vidal Teo and how many lives that will ultimately cost in the future. While you were stuck with a pen in your hand, scribbling away even as the sun had set outside, you had no idea of the stare-down going on in Elias’s office one floor up.

—

Elias’s eyes are sharp, a wave of dark anger deep in the iris as he stands with his arms crossed behind his desk, “Why’d you fire?”

Keegan's feet are shoulder length apart and his arms are clenched behind his back, spine straight; a deep tension lives in the thick air, bearing down weight on the men. The Ghost was still in his gear, the balaclava and black face paint in all its glory situated over his head. That was his best form of armor, allowing him to hide the deep sneer over his cruelly scared lips. 

“Tango. Off in the next building,” Keegan’s voice was low, harsh, and cut to a point. He didn’t want to be there – there were many more important things to be done than getting a lecture like a five-year-old. 

His sniper rifle needed cleaning, rookies needed to be disciplined, and the treadmills were calling his name. He had to work off all the bullshit in his head.

“The Girl had the shot. Vidal Teo needed to die, Russ – she knew that well enough. I want an explanation as to why a high-priority target is still up and walking.” 

The silent beast of a man keeps his body still, even if his head is pounding. Hot adrenaline was still in his veins from how you were yelling at him in the Sherpa, the memory of your rage-twisted face burning into the back of his eyes. He had never seen you that angry before; shaking with the need to release your displeasure onto him. It had slightly taken him aback. 

Fighting with you was predictable. You’d both throw insults, get into each other's faces and cruelly break down each other's psyche piece by piece – the man knew what to say and where the unspoken line was just as you did. Fighting was easier than admitting there was something deeper going on, something that you two were hesitant to even speak of. 

But, hell, you had never gotten that upset at him previously. And, problem was, even if he wanted to deny it, Keegan knew he fucked up. Bad. 

There wasn’t a way in hell that he was going to tell you that, though. He wasn’t going to tell you that his finger had moved before his mind could, pulling down on the hair-trigger of his prized rifle like a fucking novice. Even now self-resentment was worming into him.

He had never felt that to this degree before. He didn’t like it – couldn’t afford to acknowledge it.

What gave you the right to provoke those emotions from him? Maybe I need to ask to have her transferred. Brat’s messin’ with my head.

“Miscalculation. Won’t happen again.” His feet shuffle, boots shifting silently over the floor like that of his title. Miscalculation – he doesn’t make those. Never had after ODIN hit the US. There wasn’t any room for them. 

Keegan was a master of taking lives with a swift movement and a pull of a trigger; no one had ever known him to be reckless. 

They had you for that.

Elias narrowed his eyes, head tilting, as a tightness is seen rippling through his jaw, “You’re going to have to lie better than that, Son.”

Keegan stilled, dead eyes boring into the other man’s. The sharp blue deepens, darkens. His shoulders set themselves, but the ingrained looseness is still there if someone looks close enough and spies it. Instinct is hard to fight. 

“Elias?” He asks from behind the fabric of his face covering but utters no more. 

Keegan was a man of few words – very few. Actions served him better, but in this room, there was no point to them. Walker was his superior; his Captain, but more so the closest thing to a brother Keegan would ever have. There wasn’t a choice in this, even if the men had gone through hell together as Ghosts. 

“Don’t play me for a fool, Keegan,” The graying man mutters out, shaking his head and going to rest his hands on the top of his desk, “I’ve known you a long time. You don’t fuck up something like this. Never have. So don’t insult me with that half-assed answer.” 

Elias pauses, sighing when Keegan just stares at him with blank, black-laced, hard eyes. The man was a damn empty slate, never moving, never giving away anything to betray his emotions.  

“I want a full report on my desk in a week. I’m sure the Kid’ll have hers done in a day, but I want you to explain yourself. In detail. You hear?”

“Copy.” 

“Dismissed.”

Keegan turns and leaves without another word, just a burning in his gut and a righteous sense of surety in his bloodstream. Your face slashes over his vision as he exits the room, he closes the door behind him and thumps down the halls. People move out of his way quickly, sending glances with pupils so tiny they practically disappear altogether; Keegan knew he was intimidating, especially with all his gear and smelling like gunpowder and blood. Didn’t bother him much. 

It seemed like it didn’t bother you either, judging by how you were in his face screaming all the time. 

Damn brat, Keegan thinks, itching at his nose bridge and sending stiff glances at the rows and rows of closed doors and windows, She doesn’t know anything.

Before long his feet had carried him down corners and hallways as his head pounded, and it wasn’t a surprise that when he shook himself out of his trance the entire make-up of the floors and walls had changed. 

Wait…where was he? 

His pace slows to a stop, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Where had he ended up while his mind was running at the thought of you? This had never happened before – the Ghost’s head was all out of sorts if he was talking walks around the Fort without a destination. Every action of his had a purpose, why was that now becoming anything less than fact? 

Annoyance plagued him.

Sliding his eyes around, a certain office window catches his viper-like attention. It was the only one with a light still on, warm rays shining out into the hallway, and the shuffling of paper and manila folders flowing to his ears. The door was only minutely ajar, a sliver, and nothing more. About to turn around and leave the area, Keegan halts at the sound of a familiar voice grumbling. His heart jerks.

Blue eyes narrow, and that annoyance at himself grows to find an external outlet.

The hell is this Kid doin’ up so late? Doesn’t she know when lights out is? Fuck, looks like she can’t follow simple guidelines either.

With shuffling feet, he takes a step forward and has every intention to bust down the door and force you to the barracks; lecturing you on the importance of rest when he suddenly realizes something.

Why does he care if you get a good night's sleep? 

Growling under his breath, he happens to get a glimpse of a moving shadow through the window that gives him pause with one gloved hand on the woodgrain of the door. If possible, he feels his body completely stop at the scene; his eyes flickering into a widened look. 

And what was that tightening in his chest?

You were staring at the hung-up bulletin board, having dragged your desk chair over and situated it right in front of the bare rectangle that once held an innumerable amount of papers and information. 

Keegan had seen it himself right before the mission had started. Your eyes lit up when you could tell him everything you knew about the target from his schedule to what he ate in the mornings.

Eggs with a protein bar. Two cups of milk.

You had gathered all of that info yourself – countless trips into Federation-occupied territory that left you coming back with bruises and deep lacerations. Keegan knew; he had watched you limping back through the gate with a shielded look in his eyes. But now the board was blank and useless, holding nothing but your knowledge that it was once filled with your labors. 

The Ghost’s hand on the door loosens, and he takes a slow inhalation of breath as your tired eyes get glossy. When had you gotten those bags under your eyes? Keegan’s lips pull thin behind his balaclava. Had…had you always looked that tired? 

Had you both really been fighting so much that he had stopped noticing the most basic parts of you that he had watched so closely before?

“I had it…” Keegan’s shoulders tense when he hears you speak, but he doesn’t move. A needle of guilt moved to dig deeper. Your hopeless sigh leaves him gritting his teeth, “Fuck.” 

Digging your palms into your eyes, he watches you shake, limbs tense and hunched over nearly into a ball. He has the sudden urge to push the door open, not to scold you but to simply stand by your side. Tell you the truth. 

Keegan’s eyebrows pull together, gaze flicking away from you so his brain can focus. But it was like a magnet was stuck behind his optics because it wasn’t long before his eyes flowed back to the small figure. 

He stays there for a good while, watching, with a weighted chest and pounding heart. Keegan couldn’t really say what he was thinking about, but all of it certainly involved you. So why couldn’t he open the door?

When your head jerks back up, his eyes widen, body swiftly moving back. 

By the time you look out the office window, his shadow is already disappearing down the hallway. 

—

You nearly lose your cool when Elias tells you Keegan was accompanying you out into No Man’s Land once more. The bags under your eyes burned – weeks had passed since the fight, and you had gotten little sleep since then. 

“Teo was sighted by one of the drones near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco. I want you and Keegan on the trail, and, hopefully,” Elias mutters as Merrick and Ajax listen in the background. Your apparent partner stands behind you, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed, “We can put this to rest.”

Standing rail-straight, your face is twisted but you keep yourself under control. Even being in the same room with Keegan made you want to lash out. At your sides, your hands slowly clench into tight fists, and behind you, a sharp gaze digs its claws into your skull.

He’s watching you. Studying like he always does when he thinks you don’t notice. 

“Sir,” You answer the older Ghosts blankly, lips stiff, “If you think that’s best.” 

“I do,” Merrick raises a brow behind Elias, and you pretend not to notice as Ajax’s shoulders shake, “That going to be a problem?”

Ironically, Keegan and you both answer at the same time, a strangling silence before a snarled, “No, Sir.” 

The pair of you shipped out in thirty minutes, but neither of you bothered to look at the other as you gathered supplies in the armory; grabbing magazine after magazine and strapping knives to thighs, arms padded with thick clothes and heavy black combat vests. Keegan was applying his face paint despite the dark color already stained into his eye sockets. You doubted it could come off anymore – the skin was probably so damaged by the chemicals it was pointless to try. Like some brutal birthmark. He slipped the balaclava over soon after.

The fabric covered the dark hair and strong jaw, slightly marred with stubble – long scars that grew harsher when his skin twisted; the angled lips below a sharp nose that had captured your attention the first time you had seen them. Keegan was undoubtedly handsome, carved from stone and silver – the remnants of that artistry only now glimpsed in his eyes as a cold reminder. It was funny, you thought, that someone so beautiful could be such an ass. You watched him, terse-like, and grabbed a revolver hanging from the rack, shoving it into your thigh holster. 

He was acting off. 

Keegan was more silent than he usually was; at this point, he would at least make a quick quip about your annoying habit of packing extra ration bars in your front pouch. 

‘Gonna weigh you down, Kid, if you stuff one more of those damn things into your vest.’

But the more you sneaked glances, the more your feet started to shuffle in unease. The Ghost wouldn’t even look at you. 

“You sick or something?” Your voice carries, echoing off the walls as you tighten the vest strap on your side. You had never bothered to be subtle when talking to the man – he appreciated bluntness, and that was one thing you could get behind. 

“No,” Keegan slips past, suddenly colder than ever before, and disappears without another word. 

Watching his back shift as he strides off, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and perhaps a bit of shock. 

What the hell was that? You ask yourself, hands falling to your sides where they twitch. Keegan was damn confusing, but he had never been outright numb like that to you besides when you both first met. Your resentment flares in your breast, but with a shake of your head, you force it down. That wouldn’t help anyone, and you still wanted answers. 

If this was how Keegan wanted to be then fine, you’d just have to ask Elias for his report when you got back and figure out for yourself why he had ruined the previous mission. 

You grabbed a canteen of water and shuffled out the door, flicking off the light with a heavy finger and followed after the Ghost’s footsteps; dreading the Op but feeling your pulse beat at the thought of nabbing Teo once and for all. 

This was ending. Today. 

—

The aircraft landed just far enough away to be unseen by Federation soldiers and on the line of being annoyingly distant from the target. The hike would be through mountainous terrain – the land ravaged by the remnants of ODIN’s destruction and just beginning to heal. On top of steep cliffs, and sharp rocks, there would also be rampaging streams and thick foliage. Speaking from experience, you knew it was going to be a sweat-inducing mission…and that was before you got to the main point of it all. 

Both of you disappear into the treeline after the pilot tells you the future Evac Point, hoofing it at a jog into the shadows and blending in like animals. Under your feet, the leaves crush, telling stories of where you placed your weight as the packs over your body jump with every jerk forward. Keegan takes the lead, silently expecting you to follow as your eyes stare into his back. 

He still hadn’t talked to you. It made your skin crawl.

Watching his gait, you frown and clench your jaw. Why did it bother you so much? Wasn’t this what you wanted all along…for him to leave you alone? 

Sighing, you hop over a downed log, seeing Keegan quickly send a look behind him at your form before snapping his head forward. 

“There’s an old structure west of the Warehouse – a hunting lodge still standing from before ODIN was fired, I found it on one of my other Ops,” You call, moving faster to run side-by-side with the man. Dodging a tree, your tongue runs over your lips, “We should set up there – we’d have a clear shot.”

For a moment there was only the sound of shoved foliage, steady breaths, and clinking gear before Keegan replies. 

“Affirm.” 

He pulls ahead, and you’re left widely watching his shoulders, seeing the muscles under his attire ripple as they propel him faster away. Your eyelids narrow, a thin sneer flickering over your lips.

Keep your cool, You follow after, careful where you place your feet as the ground begins to ascend, If I get him in a good mood, maybe he’ll answer my questions later. 

It was easier said than done, of course, and although your efforts were valiant, none of your plans to get him to speak to you landed. The hike ended with panted breaths and a setting sun, mist seeping like snakes over the rocks under your feet; the world was quiet, and try as you might you found a deep sense of loneliness in that. The pair of you were on top of a ridge, surrounded by deep green and gray. No birds sang, and no animals trampled the land – it was just the harsh wind and the creak of stretching metal from far ahead. The occasional smell of dirt that left your nose full of particles and led to coughing fits.

Perhaps Keegan had the right idea for a face covering, even if it was never intended for the reason of keeping the elements out.

The Warehouse was near a crater, one of the places ODIN had struck directly into the Earth, and teetered on the edge of oblivion as it was half-falling apart and drenched in red rust. Occasionally, as a tremor rolled through, pieces of it would fall off and slam to the ground a million miles away, deep into the crust of what was left. 

Definitely a place for a safe house. No one would bother to look here unless you already knew about it or were hiding something.

Thinking to yourself, you rub the sweat off your nose with the back of your hand, eyes flickering to the hole in the Earth with shielded disgust. It had been over ten years, but the horror was still there. All of those innocent people… 

“Here,” The smooth voice startles you, but your attention diverts quickly to the man at your side. His hands hold out a red cloth in his first and second fingers and pointedly avoids sneaking a peak at your shocked expression. Your mouth opens and closes, optics bouncing back and forth between the gift and the strange Ghost. 

You could hear a pin drop if you had one to throw.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Your stench is going to alert the guards – wipe yourself off. I need to repeat myself, Princess?” With an unamused face, you snatch the textile and rub it over your heated skin, reveling in the dismissal of layers of salt. 

“Asshole,” You mutter, “You better not have used this before me; if I get acne I’m shaving your head in your sleep and siccing Riley on you.” 

“Sounds fun. Better make sure I’m dead by the end of it.”

“Trust me, I will. I’ll make sure to chuck your body from the Fort wall, too,” Sliding past him, you toss the cloth at his chest, “Hunting lodge is this way.” 

You get so close your shoulders lightly brush, and although you hate the implications, the action leaves your chest tight as you inhale his scent of blood and shrill chemicals. Clenching your jaw, you don’t take in the way his warmth floods your veins or the cold gaze that follows your back as you walk away; briefly softening around the edges like a blunt blade before being sharpened once more under stone and rock.

Hearing his feet lightly caress the ground behind you, you let out a slow breath, shoving away a branch of a low tree and peeping back. Keegan's gaze locks on your own as if he was waiting for this, and you curse not being able to see his expression – but it wasn’t like that would give away anything either. The Ghost was blank, much like the bulletin board had been when you ripped your work from it.

Raising a dark brow, the man grunts under his breath in question as his large shadow leeks over your form. 

“Nothin,’” You mutter and turn back, fixing the strap of your rifle and side step a piece of cut wood, looking like it was the remains of a windowsill that had been broken during the shockwave and flung from a house, “Thanks for the rag. Even if it did smell like Gun Oil.”

Blinking down at the forgotten object, your arms push through one more set of fauna and huff when you lay eyes on the run-down lodge that would be Base Camp. Rushing up the decaying steps, you push the paint-peeing door open and throw your hands out.

“And here we are,” Walking with acute familiarity into the one-room area, “Home sweet home,” You nod your head to the left, where a large window gives a clear view of the Warehouse down below, “We’ll take the shot from over there, but…here…where did I…?” 

Stumbling to a stop, you take one step back and ignore the narrowed eyes on your back.

“The hell you looking for, Kid?” 

“Shh,” You snap your fingers at a loose board near a broken-down TV stand, “There we go!” Jogging over, you place your foot on one end of the board and grab the now-propped-up opposite side with a heavy hand. Like a teeter-totter. 

Tossing the wood away, you grab the stash you had hidden years ago and hold it aloft near your head as you turn around.

Keegan watches with small eyes, head tilted, and feeling a bit curious about where this was going. What were you holding in your hand…? Was that…?

“Chocolate bars? I thought those were under strict ration laws?” His booted feet carry him closer to you and the plastic bag holding three bars of the old treat, “Damn, Kid.” 

The man didn’t ask how you knew they were there – at least, yet – but he had an idea. You had logged more hours outside than anyone else besides the Ghosts, and with your affinity to keep to your own, it was only common sense that you had stashes all over California.

“Special occasion,” You mutter, opening the bag and tossing him one. Of course, he catches it, flipping it over in his hands and rubbing a thumb over the wrapper. Keegan’s eyes filter back to yours slowly, and under him, his feet shuffle to shift his weight. 

“Y’know these things are probably older than Fort Santa Monica, right? It’ll give you gut rot.”

“God, I hope so,” You rip the wrapper open and snap off a piece as you hear crinkling from the other bar being opened; you toss yours into your mouth and smirk, “Maybe Ajax’ll finally lend me his alcohol stash to help me out for once. Bastard keeps making excuses.”

The bar was a bit stale if you were being honest, but it was still chocolate in your books. Stuffing the rest of it in your side pocket, you slip the rifle from around your back and head to the window, with the butt of the gun you raise it up and bring it down. A corner of the glass shatters into a million pieces, falling to the ground outside like tiny stars and reflecting the dying light. 

Far below, miles away, the Warehouse seems dead to the world, but your and Keegan’s trained eyes spy the microscopic shadows in the rust-strangled metal walls, slipping past like rats over the holes and windows. 

“Visual?” The man next to you asks, pulling back down his balaclava, and your ears twitch as you gaze through your scope; watching with perfected focus. Pulling back with a grunt, you flip the gun and rest the barrel against the wall, sighing.

“Negative. There won’t be until the sun sets fully,” Keegan turns to look down at you, and the fabric around his mouth shifts into a frown. You raise a brow and explain, not needing him to ask his question, “I‘ve tracked this guy like a teenager on the internet who has a crush. I know his routine. When the sun sets he checks the perimeter with two of his guards, Fabián Julieta and Santos Rosa – I have reason to believe they’re his cousins, but it’s never been confirmed.”

“You sure he’ll do that?” Keegan scoffs, looking back out and tapping his fingers over his thigh holster, “There was just an attempt on his life. Not exactly the time to follow procedure.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to leave it to fate. Plus,” You can’t help but mutter, “We wouldn’t have been in this situation if you hadn’t messed up.”

The air thickens.

Keegan’s body stills, frozen like his bones had just been covered in frost and doused in frigid waters. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch with bated breath. But he notices the trap, it seems, because his neck never enters the snare laid out. The tension that had lived over you both like a dark cloud suddenly gained lighting, quick flashes of light over the sky.

“It’ll be too dark by then,” Is his only response – even if it’s clipped and growled out like a man ready to snap. He wanted to start an argument, you could tell with growing amusement. Keegan’s arms clench at his sides into shaking fists.

“Then it’s a good thing Ghosts can see in the dark,” You smirk, tilting your head to the side and beginning to reach for the rest of the chocolate bar resting in your pocket, “Isn’t that right? Make sure not to freak out and fire at the birds–!” 

The hand latches onto your shoulder before you can process the man had even moved; eyes widening to the size of plates as the pressure snaps your body to face forward. You let out a light yip as your feet drag. Despite the hold being firm, Keegan’s fingers never dig too tight.

Your eyes level on his, gazing deep into his boiling blues that shimmer the longer you stare. Had the middle always had flecks of green? Inside your chest, your heart pounds like a drum as, behind the balaclava, his jaw clenches. Keegan’s breath is like a breeze over your hair, rustling it. 

“Don’t…do that,” He says slowly. You just watch, wide-eyed, “Don’t speak on shit you have no idea about.” 

Whatever had made your lungs constrict fled in an instant.

“What?” Your lips twist, “You mind telling me how I’d have ‘no idea’ about an Op I was supposed to come back with a confirmation of death on?” 

You shove his arm off your shoulder and hate the way the chill of the air overtakes his warmth. 

Keegan’s shoulders set, “Kid, I’m ordering you to–”

“Cut the shit!” You yell, finger going to shove into his face and watching his head whip to it before wafting back to your visage. If possible his shoulders widen even farther, legs tense and straight. This was it – your confusion would go no further, you decided, “You’re going to explain all of this, Keegan–!” 

“Watch the damn volume–”

“Explain why I’m out here, why you messed up the mission–!”

“Listen to me. I need you to–”

“Why my fucking work was all wasted because you pulled the damn trigger and I’m reaping the consequences like an idiot with a guy who hates my guts–!”

“There was a sniper on the roof.”

Your rampage stops just as you were about to open your mouth once more. You stare at him at the bombshell, not even able to process it for a moment. Blinking, you realize you had moved Keegan backward so his back was pressed into the opposite wall; your body was pressed tightly up next to his. With every fast breath, you could feel your chest connect with his, and your finger was still against his peck, digging into the gear. 

Sucking in a quick breath, you gathered what little courage you had gained and looked up into his face with a fire lit in your blood. 

“...W-what?” Keegan’s body shifts and his arms go to grab your elbows. 

He doesn’t move you, just gives them a firm squeeze and explains as his heart pounds in his chest. Under the cloth, his mouth is slightly parted, and his pupils are wide.

“Federation sniper,” He utters, blinking as your face goes void of emotion, “I didn’t know if he’d seen you yet, but I…” 

The Ghost trails off as his thigh brushes yours, all of the pouches uncomfortable to feel digging into his skin, but worth it if he can make this right.

“Why…Why didn’t you tell me?” You whisper out, the skin of your eyebrows moving to press the tiny hairs closer together. This changed everything, “Why did you…?”

Keegan’s face is so close to yours that he can smell your shampoo through the dark fabric over his nose, suddenly suffocating on the comfort the covering usually brought him. Why was his heart racing in his chest? You were being irresponsible, yelling like that, and stubborn, hard-headed. 

But, damn, if anger wasn’t a good look on you. Your body heat was leaking into him, making him swallow heavily.

“Because…knew you’d blame yourself,” He said simply, staring at you deeply as your expression softens just as Keegan’s body does against the wall; you lean in deeper to his hold, “Just didn’t expect you to take it all so hard.”

“What? You just wanted me to let it go?” You utter, feeling and finally admitting how addicting it felt to be this close to him. For the life of you, you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. What was happening?

“Again, didn’t know you’d take it so hard,” He raises a brow, grip falling from your elbows to lightly grab your hips. You force down a shiver, veins alight with molten lava at the strange contact. The Ghost continues, “Where’d you get the idea I hated you?”

Your throat swallows down saliva, not understanding the feeling in your gut. 

Shit, You think, Maybe that chocolate was bad – my head’s spinning…All I can smell is Keegan. But why am I not trying to leave?

Just a moment ago you were angry at him, but now everything made sense. A sniper, God, he could have just told you. It would have fixed a lot of things.

You mull over his question; do you answer it honestly? But for some odd reason, your mouth runs faster than your mind – it always had, and certainly always would. At least around Keegan, that is.

A breaking point had been reached, wherever you went from here was entirely up to the two of you.

“You said you didn’t want me,” The man’s breath stills, and you feel it just as you hear it; his scanning optics halt their study of your features, as if he had been seeing them for the first time in this light, “That I’d get people killed…why…why do you think I always work by myself nowadays?” Your nose begins to hurt, eyes falling to Keegan’s chest. You try to shove it down, but your hand over his vest shakes slightly. Where was this coming from? Why were you telling him this? The source of your animosity, how you two became, at least in your mind, enemies, “I just didn’t want to be a problem.”

Muttering out the last sentence, you swear Keegan’s chest hitches, heart kickstarting. 

“I…” He begins after a long moment of mutually avoiding eye contact. If you look into those beautifully cold blues you might break. 

But voices from below snap whatever the both of you would externally loathe but internally revel in; the longing in the two pairs of eyes is replaced by duty and unsaid words. The action was mechanical, and both parties rushed to the window, with your fingers grasping the rifle and Keegan grabbing the binoculars from his largest pouch. 

Like birds of prey, the two work in such sync that others would question if they even hated each other at all – and if they had seen the scene just moments prior the thoughts of denial would have been strengthened ten-fold. 

Did you hate Keegan? Or did you hate what he had done? Now really wasn’t the time to question it, but as the Ghost called out the distance and spotted Vidal Teo in pitch darkness, you can’t help but mutter, “Knew you could see in the dark, Kee,” And lined up the shot. 

Your finger pulls the trigger with little more than a second thought, and your shoulder catches the recoil with a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Direct hit. Target down,” A soft hand squeezes your shoulder as you watch the body drop from the scope. Grim satisfaction breeds in your heart. Your eye roves to Keegan’s face, who nods his head at you, “It was a good shot, Princess.”

Face heating, all you do is scoff, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, well…I suppose you called it.”

“Really, you can’t just take the compliment?“

“Do you want me to beat you over the head with this rifle?”

You both stand up and send coded glances to the other, and where the backhanded comments would usually be hostile, the small differences in presentation lean more toward teasing than anything. 

It was…nice. Foreign, but nice.

Chuckling, you toss the rifle around your back and listen to panicked voices echoing out from the warehouse. Keegan still stands near the window, with his back to it, while you inch to the door and itch at the back of your neck. He stares at you strangely, no doubt thinking about what you had confessed prior.

He had no idea you had heard the conversation with Elias. The Ghost’s chest constricts, remembering the words he had said in concern and anger. Had you really heard all of it? That would explain the sudden cold attitude that was mirrored back to him all those months ago.

Damn, Keegan blinks, and his head tilts as you stare back at him with a questioning expression. Your face was innocent with sweaty flesh filled with dust and grime. His fingers itched to wipe away the slash of black dirt from your forehead and, against his will, his stone blue softened to water in his eye sockets.

Your lips twitch at the rare expression. You had a lot to talk about when you both get back to base. 

“We should get going before–” 

Glass shatters, and a loud pop like an opening soda can startles you so bad you swore your heart stopped. Two things happen in that instance that will be ingrained into your head forever, carved like a scar in the fine tissue and tender to the touch.

One, his blood splattered your face, making you blink rapidly and reel back.

Two, the sound of Keegan’s hitting the floor – deadweight – and the loud gasp that exits his mouth, all the air expelled from his lungs not allowing him to even scream.

“Keegan!” You yell, rushing over and grabbing onto his shoulders, flipping him over with a grunt and panicked breath as you brush away the crimson from your eye sockets with a fast hand, “Shit!”

His body slams once more to the old wood, this time his back now on the floor. Blood pools down from a gunshot wound over his right abdomen, and your eyes land on it immediately, lungs struggling to suck down air.

Below you, Keegan lets out a wheezing sound, arm coming half-up to clench in the space above him, shaking violently. 

“Fucken’...” The man gasps, and his body jerks, trying to move despite the hole in his side. Your fingers rip open your medical pouch, eyes darting back to the window. You lightly stand up, frantic eyes darting and freezing. Spying a glint of light reflected from the moon, you quickly dip back to the floor.

Sniper scope. 

Rushing to grab Keegan under the shoulders, he yells out curses as you drag him to the side and out of the line of sight of the window. Tearing out a rag and a roll of gauze from your stash, you look at his face as you shove the cloth against the leaking wound, bunching the fabric and working it into the crater. 

Keegan snarls, head going back to slam to the floor as his eyes flutter. Those blues of his were wide and whizzing back and forth in a primal display, and behind the balaclava, you could see his throat bob with strangled, open-mouthed, breaths. Fuck, fuck, fuck…!

“Hey!” You shout, bringing up one hand and lightly slapping his cheek as you lean your body weight into his side. Your heart was going too fast, it was going to break out of your chest if you didn’t get a grip. But…Keegan’s blood was staining your hands; leaking down your face to drip from your chin. And the fact remained that the Federation soldiers now knew your position and were rushing to the dilapidated lodge. You needed to get him out of here, “Keep your damn eyes open – the only person who gets to kill you is me!”

“What…what the fuck, Princess?”

“You heard me!” Your body was shaking just as much as Keegans as you gnash your teeth together, “‘Doesn’t listen,’ my ass, your ears work less than mine do.” 

You’re panicking; using born and breed sarcasm and clipped words to ease you back into focus.

You had to move him – had to get him out of here. But would you be able to? He was big; far larger than you and weighed twice as much in muscle alone, not to mention the gear... Your mind did the math even as you pleaded with it not to. 

He would have to help you on his own if this was going to work. And that meant keeping him conscious.

Keegan lets out a loud cough, and your fingers itch to move his face-covering so he can breathe better. But you unravel the gauze instead, going to shift his body to wrap it around the rag – holding it in place. 

“Gotta’ move,” He snarls at you, trying to keep the pain at bay as it sweeps over him like waves of water, in and out, in and out.

“Working on it.” 

Right as you tie off a tight knot on the already bloody wrappings, the Ghost tries to get up, an arm turning to slam to the floor behind him and vibrate as he forces his weight on it. Knowing that was a bad idea but not having another choice, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders and grunt. Bearing the brunt of his weight you hold your breath and angle your feet; shoving with all of your strength and gasping out. 

“What the hell do you eat, man? Rocks?” As you grip with your free hand at his limp wrist, you take a quick glance at Keegan when you don’t hear a response. When he’s up, one of your hands goes to wrap around his waist. 

The man’s eyes were fluttering fast, pupils retracted in pain. The blood leaking from him stains your body as you hike his form closer to you, feeling the warmth of the flesh enter your skin like a candle’s flame. 

“Keegan!” You call, shaking his body. The man lets out a low groan, sharp eyes snapping to yours. You're taken aback when you see them immediately soften as they land on your panic-laced form, “You’ve gotta help me, okay?”

Speaking slowly, you hope he listens as he blinks at the blood on your face, eyebrows tensing.

“Copy,” He mutters and sends about the closest he can to a stiff nod your way. 

Immediately all weight is taken from your hold and he stumbles to stand up straight, a hand snapping to his side as his feet drag.

“Not all of it! Idiot!” Growling, you rip him back to you, hissing in disapproval as he lets out a deep curse; nearly falling into you. Forcing him forward, you go as fast as you’re able to the entrance door and already a sheen of exertion is falling over your face. How the hell is he so heavy?

“Fuckin’ confusing, Kid…Just tell me what you– what you want, I’m bleeding out here,” Keegan barks, annoyance falling from him onto you. Was it really that impossible for the two of you to get along that you were fighting while he was seeping crimson all over you? You were getting along just a second ago.

“You’re impossible, Keegan Russ,” You lock onto him in the corner of your eye as you practically drag him to the door, shoving it open with your shoulder. Your fingers dig into his side and his wrist, trying not to get distracted by the strong muscle you feel writhing under your touch. Without meaning to, your grip had gravitated under his shirt, touching bare skin littered with scars and burns – hot and pulsing with life.

Your grip goes deeper, nails creating crescent moons in his flesh as you, somehow, get him down the stairs without falling flat on your face.

Did he just shiver?

“Evac point,” Muttering to yourself, you move faster, heart beating as shouts echo out over the hills, “Shit.”

“Focus,” Keegan utters to your side, “Don’t think about it. What…what’ll happen will happen.”

“Bullshit,” You growl and glance back to see the trail of blood over the ground. Shaking your head you stumble into the treeline, mouth open to help you suck down more air into your lungs, “If you expect me to believe that, you’re a fool.”

“..Maybe,” He coughs, and you have to pause for a moment and look in concern as dark phlegm splatters to the ground. No, you think, no not yet. He can’t do this to you, “Maybe I have been.”

“What,” You attempt a wet chuckle, not liking the conversation but if it kept him awake you would entertain it, “It only took you taking a shot to the side to realize that? There’s no hope for you, Kee.”

“Like when you call me that,” Lips thinning, you work your legs faster, dodging a rock and shimmying past a tree, “Sounds nice.” 

Your face heats at the shock-induced confession, breath inhaled in a sharp breath. 

You look at him, only to find his eyes already locked on your visage. The unrelenting optics ripped you open with how lucid they looked, even if his mouth seemed to have lost its filter. Taking it as a good sign, you tear your head back to the front, biting into your lips as your legs shake.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” You whisper, clearing your throat as Keegan lets out a small strangled sound from the back of his mouth as you stumble over a log on the ground, “But keep talking to me, yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” He confessed with a soft voice, “...Was jus’ worried you would hurt yourself. Too hard-headed for your own good.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Your lungs are burning, but you remind yourself it’s not even half as much pain as Keegan is going through. He carries himself so well, even holding some of his own weight to help you. How was he even still standing? If you had gotten shot like that, you’d be screaming your head off.

He’s a Ghost, You remind yourself, They defy all laws of nature and common sense.

“I’m sorry, Kid,” That makes you stop, body halting halfway through a step as your face blanks, panting out air and eyes popping out at the weak words, “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

Swallowing down saliva into your dry throat, your mind tells you to keep moving. The meeting in Elias’s office…he was…he was apologizing to you? Stuttering only a moment, you resume your break-neck journey with a burning face and jumping heart. 

“Apology not accepted,” You growl, sending a sharp glance his way. Keegan’s eyes widen in surprise – but they look slightly buggy, “When we get back to the Fort, you’re saying it again…When you’re not getting me all covered in your fluids.”

The chuckle he lets out startles you, but you resist the urge to bring him even closer to your form and bask in his heat. He was…nice to feel against you, you admitted. Strong. Comforting in a rabid dog sort of way.

“Yeah, but you’d like…like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”

…Did he just..? When your jaw drops in shock, he lets out another gasping chuckle that divulges into a coughing fit. Getting your bearing back, you roll your eyes above the embarrassment in your blood even as your lower body pulses. Your legs shuffle as your breath goes thin.

“Let’s keep the dirty jokes under wraps, too, okay?... Who knew blood loss made you into a fucking comedian? Mr. Stand-Up over here.”

“Hm,” Keegan grunts, wheezing in a breath. You watch a dribble of blood fall from the side of his mouth with a grim face, mind running. 

He can’t die, You shake with nerves and adrenaline, I won’t let him. 

There was a brimming affection for the man you had been forcing down like a mouthful of food, and his drunk honestly right now was throwing you for a loop.

“I’ll get you to the Evac point, Keegan, I promise,” The shouts were getting closer, and the Ghost’s eyes were falling closed once more. 

You wanted to see his face – make him stare at you.

“Know you will,” His eyes clenched closed and you felt his weight fall more over you. Groaning breathily, you take it and continue onward with little concern for how your nerves tingle, “Y’know,” The next words he says are so muffled you barely hear them, but when your brain processes the gravel and sifts through the depth of it, you feel tears wet the sides of your vision, “I think I a-actually like you, Kid.”

Keegan goes slack, and the sounds of shouting grow ever closer. It takes everything in you not to scream out.

—

He wakes up with a buzzing in his ears and a bright light assaulting his eyes. It takes Keegan a good while to fully open his eyelids, flinching as the bulbs set into the ceiling seem to only get more violent as his senses come back to him. 

A groan exits his lips, and the scent of bleach and sterile air makes his head rove on the hard pillow under it.

“Well,” A masculine voice results in Keegan jolting up like he was hit with an electrical current, body spasming at him to stay still but not able to stop the ingrained instincts in his head, “Took you long enough. Ajax was just about losing his mind for one of you two to wake up. Had to order him to go run laps.”

“Merrick,” Keegan clenches his hands in pain, but his eyes fall to the man sitting in one of the visitor chairs at the door. The Medical Ward's familiar walls soon entered his sight, and ignoring the flair of agony in his bandaged side, the dark-haired man brought a hand to his face. Keegan takes a deep breath and flinches, “Explain.”

“What happened,” Standing, the stocky man cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders before glancing down to his side. Merrick points over Keegan's shoulder and nods his head, “Is that the girl dragged your limp ass all the way to the Evac point with a bullet wound in ‘er shoulder. Took out a few soldiers as well – one helluva hot exit.”

Sneaking a peak back, Keegan was stunned to find a matching hospital bed not a few feet from his own, a rack for a curtain drawn back to allow a view of a woman asleep; her right arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, the covers pulled back to her midsection. You. His eyes stay locked on your form, momentarily forgetting the pulling of sutures in his side. 

You had…gotten shot. Protecting him.

“How bad,” His lips move faster than his head, a trait he was beginning to pick up and associate with only you.

“You needed to go into surgery–”

“Not me,” Keegan growled, itching at the gown that had been put on him. His eyes never left you, the peaceful expression on your face he had never seen before leaving a warm feeling in his gut. With a sigh, he mutters out with a tone far softer than it had been before, “Her.”

Merrick smirks, watching the rise and fall of your chest and seeing Keegan doing the same, just far more closely. 

“Prescribed pain meds and on leave for two months. It was a clean shot – lucky for her.”

Keegan nods his head stiffly, moving the pillows up on the elevated mattress and leaning back with a throaty groan. 

“I’ll go tell Elias you’re awake,” Merrick swiftly turns and opens the door, but pauses in the opening. The other man watches closely with a frown. Without turning around, Thomas utters, “Kid was pretty shook up when you wouldn’t come ‘round. You should fix that.”

The Ghost disappears and closes the door behind him. 

Blinking at the wooden barrier, Keegan wastes no time in pushing back the covers of his bed and pressing his feet to the floor; hissing at the chill but only running a hand through his hair in retaliation. His dark eyes watched you as he gritted his teeth at the strain in his side, the faint ripping of stitches. 

The pain didn’t bother him, didn’t sway his actions. His socked feet move over the floor to stand above you. He breathes slowly, sucking down cool air as he pauses for a minute or two.

“You’re something else, Kid,” Keegan whispers, cold eyes narrowing as his thumb goes to swipe away the dirt smudge on your forehead with delicate movements. He didn’t want to wake you. 

The mirror across the room shows a beast of a man carefully cleaning the face of a woman who murmurs to herself, shifting closer to the hold with a small sigh. Keegan, whose lips quirk in a small smile that pulls at scars and black, irreversible, face paint, finds the warmth in his blood addicting. His heart slowly speeds up, and although crimson was staining his bandages, he couldn’t find it in him to go back to bed. 

“If you keep doing that,” Your voice snaps him out of his stupor, and his hand is snatched back to his side in an instant; feet shoulder length apart and tense, “I just might die on you.”

The light above you plays in your eyes, bouncing off the color and reflecting it directly into Keegan’s iris as the skin of your eyelids peel back. You blink up at him, vision coming back into focus as you stretch your legs out under the covers. 

Sending a small smile to his blank face, you chuckle, “What?” You groan, “I was being sarcastic.”

A smirk is all you get, a slight twitching at the side of his lips at the fatigue in your tone.

“How long?” Keegan asks, raising a dark brow. Knowing what he’s asking, you scoff, face bright.

“Only about five minutes. I caught the end of Merricks conversation,” You reply.

“Hm.”

“Don’t give me that look – I’m in the room, what do you want me to do…not listen? Tch,” Your hand presses into the mattress, shoving you up. 

A hand splays over your back immediately to help. 

Goosebumps litter your arms as Keegan’s grip lightly digs into your gown, assisting you where your other arm can’t. Sparing him a glance, you watch with heat on your ears and neck as his attention remains solely fixated on you. Blue breaks open your skin and infects you with its chill. Liking the feel of it, you let it in and embrace it. 

When you’re sitting up, silence ensues, with Keegan’s eyes studying your body as you do the same. His hand remained on your back. 

Does he remember what he said? You wonder, locking on the thick wrappings under the man’s gown with a frown, Or was he too out of it?

“Feelin’ alright, Princess?” Your eyebrows raise as he tilts his head.

“I should be asking you that.”

“We both got shot,” Keegan shoots back, and the black around his eyes creases as he deadpans at you.

“You passed out – I didn’t. Don’t blame me because you decided to take a nap, Big Guy.”

“So, you’re just full of nicknames now, are you?” 

“Hm,” You smirk, voice low and teasing, “Perhaps…Raccoon Eyes.”

Keegan scoffs, turning his head away in exasperation. You were both the same people from hours ago, but something felt different – the air was lighter, bordering on sacred. Looking at each other with hesitant vulnerability, hearts yearning but not quite certain where to begin. So many jagged pieces of glass to buffer out, smooth along the edges, and pray that they became mosaics of brightly colored perfection that glittered in the sunlight. But you could still slice your fingers open, despite the years of practice and knowledge of that sacred art, feel the blood splatter the table and leak into the fine lines of your palm.

But, perhaps, it was time to try. 

“I guess I owe you one,” You admit awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and feeling sheepish. This was new to you, “You saved me from a sniper but I couldn’t see the one behind you.”

“You owe me twice, then,” When you send him a scalding look, he puffs out a breath to show it was a joke and continues as you roll your eyes and smile softly, “..but, uh,” Keegan clears his throat, “Don’t…worry about it, Kid,” Your eyes snap to his side profile, blinking in shock as his eyes rove the room, watching the cracks in the floors as you gape at him. Why…why did he sound like that? Like the gravel in his words had smoothed over and was suddenly a paved road with moss along the edges; gentle to the touch. And why did your heart skip a beat at it, “Forget about it.” 

“...What?” Your voice is small, genuine confusion whispered out as you watch the muscles in his face move. Keegan’s jaw was clenched, his nose scrunching as he rolled it and fixed his stance. It was adorable the way he was trying not to face you.

His head turns to his gear that Merrick had placed on the large table across the room. You watch him lightly limp to it, mind still trying to think through what was going on. His shredded hand goes to the back pocket of his folded cargo pants, and your ears twitch at a crinkling nose. The Ghost pulls out an empty chocolate wrapper and you feel your heart stop all together when he holds it aloft. He shuffles back over. 

“It was alright, little stale, but not bad,” Those steel blue eyes slide to yours, and your face heats; throat tightens. Since when has your pulse rampaged like that outside of a gun battle? Keegan’s lips quirk into a slow smirk at your expression, “Not bad at all. I’m sorry that I ate it all.”

You have to look away before you pass out, all confidence now gone and dignity stomped on when you realized that you liked when he looked at you with those eyes of his. Your hand clenches over the covers, finding that double meaning with brimming affection.

Oh, you just hated him…but your breath still gets stolen all the same.

“Yeah, well,” Your hand goes to scratch at the back of your neck to ground yourself, “Don’t get used to it, Kee. That bar was worth like fifty bucks if we’d have just sold it.”

You decide his laugh is better than any old chocolate bar, and that you wanted to taste it on your tongue until the very sun died out. Until your bones were bleach white from age.

There was no doubt he remembered what he had told you as you dragged him along, scared and wishing he would stay awake; that was simply judging by the sparkle in his pupil and the way he was facing you now. 

Smirking, you raise a brow and grab the man by the collar of his gown. 

Ah, what the hell. Better to start strong.

When you smash his lips to yours, you decide right then and there when Keegan melts into you, his hand going to grip the back of his head, that maybe being enemies wasn’t so bad at all.

#keegan p russ #keegan russ #call of duty keegan #cod fandom #cod fanfic #cod #cod ghosts #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #x female reader #female reader

[wasted-women]

ROUND 1C, MATCH 3 OUT OF 8!

Causes of Death & Propaganda Under the Cut:

Tara Maclay

Cause of Death: Shot in crossfire

Propaganda:

Ok so idk if she actually counts but I'm submitting her and please throw her out if not. Here's why I think Tara was fridged: the sole purpose of her death was to further the plot and cause pain to other characters. Now, because it's Buffy, these other characters were women. So her death was only to cause pain to her girlfriend (ex-girlfriend? They were broken up but mending) Willow, cause her to relapse into magic, and then make her essentially the big bad of the season. All of this was then to cause Buffy, the protag, to have to fight her best friend and be told she needed to either stop her or kill her. So while Buffy and Willow are both women, Tara's death was solely to cause them pain as significant other and protagonist and to further the plot. (It's also bury your guys and Joss Whedon sooooo). Tara literally was killed sloppily for no other reason than as a plot device in a desperate "well we already killed our protag and brought her back to life, how do we raise the stakes from here" ploy necessitated by crappy writing. If she doesn't count, again please throw her out, but I feel like she counts as fridging esp when looking at how Joss Whedon rights Buffy in this season to essentially bc a self insert of man pain but as a woman.

this is the only lgbt example I can think of but it definitely counts imo. link to death scene here (scene starts a minute into the video, with obvious trigger warnings for death and blood and gunshots): https://youtu.be/01NxsKojYyM?si=dxZvcvOhp3x6S8ha

Stuffing a woman in the fridge is one thing, but stuffing a queer woman who was one half of a beloved same-sex couple on a TV show famous for its strong female characters for the sake of drama while enforcing negative LGBT+ stereotypes in the process is really something else.

Her girlfriend, Willow essentially plays the role of the man in the relationship. Tara dies to facilitate her villain arc. Xander is also sad about her death and he is a man.

Mako Mori

Cause of Death: Exploded in a helicopter

Propaganda:

The Mako Mori test has been proposed as a "better" version of the Bechdel Test (which I'm well aware of the bechdel tests point and common misuse) she has a full, rich arc that is not romance oriented in the first movie. Also she pilots a giant robot. In the second movie she's textbook definition fridged.

Daenerys Targareon

Cause of Death: Stabbed by her lover for becoming a tyrant

Propaganda:

I'm just. I can't believe she hasn't been submitted yet. Classic example of end game fridging, where she *had* to be killed by her male lover to bring him pain and Man Tears TM. Clearly it effects him (sad) more than her (dead). Now obv Dany had a whole plot prior to this, but her death itself is such a classic example of fridging that I have to submit her, it legit only happened for a stupid "plot" to bring Jon ManPain. It was a death so stupid that GOT, what once was a cultural touchstone, isn't talked about except in how bad the end was

#wasted women poll #round 1 #round 1c #tara maclay #buffy the vampire slayer #mako mori #pacific rim #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones #game of thrones tv #poll bracket #poll tournament #character polls #polls

[rev3rb]

Hey again. Just read the latest chapter, and umm idk how to feel. It was nice to get some more insight into Ferid and see how even as a teen he was always just ~ like that™️. But, I’m a bit taken aback by the implication that Crowley might be Ferid’s reincarnated brother?? Bc to me it read like that was either the 440th person he killed or 440th time he killed his big bro. And knowing Ferid, 440 does not seem like a high enough body count. But idk maybe the brother flashback isn’t related to Crowley at all and is just used to establish a pattern? Regardless, rip to Crowley, Chess, and Horn.

Plot relevant things aside young prince Ferid with his classic ponytail bow was adorable, still unhinged, but also pretty adorable.

I get that. Personally I'm kinda angry about it.

You're right in that it was nice to get some insight into Ferid, but I don't know if that was worth the trade off of what we got. What the HELL do you mean that named characters that were prominent at one point (even if it wasn't THAT prominent) got killed OFF SCREEN with no indication that this was the case up until now. I would probably be fine about it if we'd had ANY foreshadowing about it, but no. Instead they disappeared without explanation and then are just declared dead. Their disappearance didn't even ring as that weird since Ferid, and therefore Crowley since he's following him around, are up to things that aren't popular with the majority of the vampire population. I remember mentioning that they hadn't shown up in a long time semi recently in one of these, but the reason I hadn't harped on it as much as someone like Narumi is bc they disappeared at a natural point instead of in the middle of the arc. I'm getting side tracked though. Ultimately, this felt INCREDIBLY dumb and a bit like Kagami just wanted to kill them off since he had no further purpose for them. If you're going to do that, at least HINT that the fact that they haven't shown up in a bit is weird. I just. oooough. I'm talking in circles. But yeah. Imagine if this happened to Rene and Lacus too :) (likely won't since Lacus has that whole thing with Yoichi).

I also find it annoying that Crowley was killed with so little fanfare. I get that it's because of the whole vampires have no feelings thing, but still. It's just insane to kill a character who has been around for so much of the story like that. It really makes Crowley come off as a plot device for Ferid's story rather than anything of real importance outside of that. Without the added context from the Mikaela light novel spin off (which reminder, still hasn't been finished) he feels like there's just so little going on with him other than his relationship with Ferid. Don't get me wrong. I think Crowley is a fun character, which is why I think this is just doing him so dirty. Was I asking for some drawn out fight between him and Ferid before he was killed? No, not really. I just find the situation of Ferid killing him off at all kinda dumb. idk. I have no suggestions about what I'd like to see. It just... wasn't that. Maybe I'll feel better about it later if his death is revealed to be more plot relevant.

ANYWAYS! I better move on before I'm here all night. ...Okay but last thing. YET A FUCKING GAIN we're jumping from one subject to another JUST to draw out some reveals and give us more questions. I'm going to pull my hair out lol. I really shouldn't be surprised that the second Shinoa starts diving into The First's memories we flip to this scene. I have a bit of a feeling that it's because she's going to learn what the audience already knows, but I just don't get why that wasn't lumped into the previous chapter. Would have felt much better if we'd just started this chapter with Ferid and Crowley. I guess page count could have factored in but... just feels like maybe you could have cut down some of the last chapter to make space for this. Ah... but maybe I'm just being a hater at this point. Anywho...

I too was wondering if that was the implication, but yeah, the number tripped me up. That DOES seem too frequent to be his brother, so I'm also wondering if that's the number of people he's killed. Yes, it seems a little low, but maybe that's people he's killed with a specific purpose in mind. Ones that tie into that rebirth mentality he has going on here. I'm sure we'll find out eventually. It does seem like we need more context to figure out what it is exactly Ferid is doing. Maybe he IS just killing people because he feels like it's time for them to go, but you'd think that he wouldn't bother to count them. Who knows.

Okay, maybe I'm just imagining it but I SWEAR we'd seen a younger Ferid design before at SOME point, but for the life of me, I can't remember where. Something about him talking about how he was a Mikaela candidate too or something like that? I bring it up to say that I swear we've seen a Ferid design somewhat similar to this before, but regardless, you're right. It is nice to see that design and that he really doesn't seem to have changed much over the years. Vampirisim apparently didn't change him.

#Owari no Seraph #OnS 134 spoilers #Ons 134 #Crowley Eusford #Ferid Bathory #Anonysis asks #My posts #Owari no Seraph spoilers

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter eighteen - your fathers eyes

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: canon typical violence, punisher shit, mentions of blood, death, gross stuff u know the drill by now. also we decapitate someone. ya.

a/n: i’m not even an older sibling but why does this make me so emo???? idk. also yes i named the brother bc i’m watching supernatural again. i’m soft okay don’t look at me. how is there 18 chapters of my shit up in this bitch wow okay enjoy!!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been an hour since the call from Agent Madani, and you were still in some sort of shock.

They’re going to kill him.

“Where’d you see ‘em last?” Frank had asked, getting in the drivers side of the car while you loaded the boot as fast as you could.

“He’s heading back to base, but it’s a mess. The ‘New America’ men stationed there have gone full riot— they saw the news, thought it was time to take a stand or some shit. Dead bodies everywhere. I have a link through their network— he’s given the order to move the kid, but the rest of them want him dead.”

“Why move him?” You felt sick as Frank pulled off the curb, but it was a fair question. Bobby wanted to hurt you— break the last piece of yourself you still had. Why not just kill him now? You were still six hours away, although with the way Frank was driving, it would be less.

“He said he wanted to finish the job— that he was taking him somewhere he could do that.” A part of you lit up— a part that you had tried to swallow down the past few weeks, something that had been far too easy to do.

“My old house.” You say, and Frank looks at you only for a second before repeating it into the phone. “It’s only an hour away from their base. We still have five between us.”

“They haven’t been able to get him out yet. Too many people.” You’d bought yourself time— maybe a few precious hours, but it would be enough. It had to be. “I’m heading out there now, you go straight to the kid. I’ll tell the rest of the squad to meet you there.”

Frank throws the phone behind him, and you see the red bar of the accelerator hit a new height. The highway stretched so far in front of you that you couldn’t see any end— it was like it went on forever, continuously throwing miles and miles between you and one of the only things you cared about.

“We’re gonna get there.” Frank says, sending your anxiety and you tuck your legs up under your chin. “There’s too many of the Colonels guys out there to make a quick exit.”

“Bobby’s men will shred them.”

“Good. That was always the plan. It’ll take ‘em time, time we need.” Swallowing hard, the seatbelt around your neck feels like it’s suffocating you. “We’re gonna get there.”

“How do you know?” The voice that comes out of you isn’t one you felt related to anymore— that low, commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. Frank isn’t phased, his hand dropping from the wheel and planting firmly over yours.

“You trust me?” It was simple now— you trusted him with your life, like he did with his. Once a far away idea, now a real, tangled thread tying you to him. You nod once, and you swear he smiles slightly. “I’ll get you there.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank drove the next few hours, and you slept where you could. Once you got into the drivers seat, Frank passed out almost immediately. He’d told you to wake him up in an hour, but he needed to conserve his energy, so you let him sleep.

Weaving through traffic, you knew what you were driving into. It was going to be your last few moments of freedom— but nothing would stop you. Not when you were this close. You’d come to terms with the fact he might not know who you are, and as much as that broke your heart, nothing mattered more than his safety. He was your brother. The one you had let your house burn for, the one you’d killed for a thousand times. You owed him this much. It was your fault he was there, your fault he was used as leverage.

Everything you had done was leading to this moment, and when the sign to your town flashed over your head, you took the exit and woke Frank up, trying to swallow down the sickness in your chest.

“Hey, we’re nearly there.” He shot up, moving a lot easier than just a few hours before. The other wounds would hold well enough, but that one on his side was still raw. Madani had said they were taking a few men with your brother, and they’d only gotten him out about half an hour ago. You’d beat them here— giving you an advantage. You’d need all the help you could get right now.

“They already there?” Frank leans into the back seat, pulling out a long gun and loading it up.

“No. We should have… twenty minutes.” You pull onto your street. God— it was your street, your home after so long. The neighbouring houses were exactly how you remembered them— white picket fences, golden retrievers barking at mail men, the smell of someone barbecuing something. It was all so… familiar. “It’s this one.”

Pulling over, you hadn’t allowed yourself to look just yet. There’s been something built over the top of the ruins. A giant yellow ‘for sale’ sign is sticking up in the lawn, and then you see the one thing about this street that you don’t recognise. The house— entirely rebuilt as if you were never there. In some ways, you guessed you weren’t.

“Hey.” Is all Frank says, but it’s all he needs to. He says everything in that one look— that you needed to be good right now, needed to be strong just for a little longer, and you’d have everything you worked for. You both get out of the car, and look up.

“You should get up high. Pick them off.” Watching Frank wince as he bends out of the car, it’s clear he’s not 100%.

“Just like before. Once you see him, go. Madani’ll be there somewhere.” He says, but not with the relief that you feel. Your brother was going to be safe; that was a good thing. “Once your brothers safe…”

“I do what she wants me to do.” A metallic taste in your mouth forms at the words, knowing you wouldn’t see him again. Was that it? “That’s the deal.”

Frank meant… something to you now. What that was, you hadn’t had time to figure out, but it was big enough to distract you from your work, and certainly big enough to risk your life for. You’d brought each other back from the edge time and time again, and even though it had only been a few months since you met him, you don’t remember feeling anything like you do now for anyone you’ve met.

The way he always looked at you like you were something special— the first real person to treat you with some kind of dignity, kindness, compassion. He saved your life, knowing what you were and what you’d done, and you had done the same for him. He stepped forward, hand reaching for yours as he pulled you toward the empty house.

“Once he’s safe, come back to me.” You blink a few times. Once your brother was out, Madani would need to take you in. None of this made sense if you weren’t the link—if you weren’t her informant, she would never get the location to be here today. You had to— “You come back.”

“I can’t. Agent Madani—“

“Screw that.” He busted the lock to the door, and instantly you were looking around, finding possible vantage points of the new layout all the while trying to process what Frank was saying.

“I- I have to make sure he’s okay.” That was all it was. There was only, truely, one person that would override whatever it was holding you to him. One person that didn’t even know who you were. You heard the screech of tires outside, and knew that you didn’t have time. You never seemed to have the time you wanted with him, no matter how long you were given.

“He will be.” The guns strapped to him bulk him up too much, and you can’t get closer, but you heart was beating so fast like he was on top of you. You already know what he’s trying to say before he says it.

“I can’t ask you to do that. He’s… he needs to be away from all this shit. Away from me—“

“That’s bullshit. Kid would be lucky to have someone like you.” You try to blink it away, but a tear drops down your cheek anyway. “It’s not just for him. Come back to me.”

“I will. You know I will.” He doesn’t look so sure. You knew you needed to go with Agent Madani— give her what she wants, hold up your end of the deal. You couldn’t start your life running from another person. But after all that, you’d come back to him. You always would. “You remember that day that I left the hotel, after you stitched my leg up?”

“I remember that night.” You suck in a slow breath, trying not to think about how his hands held your skin, how you knew how they felt everywhere now.

“I left in the morning, and you told me you would leave if I didn’t come back.” He nods, eyes looking over your shoulder and out the window again, checking you were still alone, then locking back on you. “I knew I was coming back. Always. No matter what happens, I’ll come back.”

“You were late.” He looks down at you, hand tangled in your hair. “I told you thirty minutes in that hotel and I’d leave. Waited 45.”

“God, you really have gotten soft.” A grin splits his face, and his thumb traced over that tiny little scar on your head, the one he made with his gun the first time you fought. “Go.”

You shove him towards the stairs, knowing he needs time to set himself up, but he just looks at you.

“Go, Frank.” He looks like he’s in pain, and you can’t tell if it’s his side or you telling him to move, but either way it hurts him. You turn around, hearing Franks’ loud footsteps stomping up to the window of the attic you had spotted, and try to focus. Nothing was laid out the same, but you didn’t need it to be. You could asses— you could find the best spot, and then you would do what you always did. Find a way.

Frank was shooting as soon as the engine to the now pulled up car outside cut out. You shrunk back, covering yourself from the door by the corner of the wall, peeking up to look over out the window and firing a few shots. Two guys were splayed out on the driveway, blood splattered on the white fencing around the front lawn.

“Kill him now! Just fucking end it already!” One of the men was shouting and you couldn’t hold your spot any longer. You know you should, but you couldn’t stand there and wait. You had waited too long already— it was here and now, and a glimpse of brown hair, curly, like your dads, cracked out of the boot of the car, and you ran.

Adrenaline like you’d never felt it spurred every move. Three car loads of people were in front of you and you tore through them without blinking. You swung an open hand across the first man’s face, and felt the flesh split part underneath the sharp end of your fingers. Blood splattered and he fell, so you moved on to the next. Shots were firing around you, but you didn’t flinch for a second, trusting Franks’ eye to keep you safe. Trusting him to keep you safe.

You could see a part of your brothers face now. He was curled up in a corner of the boot of the car, hands over his head. You were distracted, and one of the men clocked you over the head but you recovered quickly, feeling his weight drop away when a sniper bullet tore through his head. There was another man, his focus on the car, shoving other people out of his path. He was the leader of some sort, ordering people in the chaos of bodies, and the shout of his voice was one you recognised.

You ran across the yard, dodging bullets and cracking bone wherever you could. You got your hands around the cuff of his shirt and yanked him back, only a few meters from where the gun in his hand would of been firing at your brother. He struggles, calling to someone, but your fingers are already linked around his neck. The flesh under his jaw gives way, and a familiar crack sounds as his body drops lifelessly to the pavement.

You hold his fractured head in your hands just for a second too long, before dropping it, a loud thud ringing over the shouts of men around you. The numbers had thinned, and you hadn’t realised Frank had dropped out of the second story window, hearing him groaning in pain as he laid into the man underneath him. Two more punches confirmed the man’s fate, and Frank staggered upright before turning around and starting over on the next.

You sprinted downhill, finishing off whoever you could, and your breath caught in your throat when you finally rounded the car.

You saw him.

Terrified, curled up, but unharmed. Your brother— after twelve years, he was here, and real, and right in front of you.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” His voice cries out, and footsteps behind you snap you away from the moment. You take care of your next victim swiftly, using the gun Frank gave you to put a bullet through his eyes, but not before you dragged him out of your brothers eyesight. He didn’t need to see anymore of it.

“Sammy?” You kept your distance, seeing how much the kid was shaking, but when you called his name, he looked up slowly. “Is that you?”

“How—how do you know my name?” He says, arms still wrapped over his head. You could feel how much blood you were covered in; feel it dripping off onto your shoes.

“I…” You lose the words. God— he looked just like your dad. That same curly hair, bright eyes… he even sounded like him. You heard more shots fired, and Frank was okay— you knew it, because the footsteps could be no one but him. “You won’t remember me, but I promise I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I haven’t seen you before?” He asks, the high pitch voice only reminded you how young he is. Your heart broke a little more when he shuffled back, seeing Frank appear behind you.

“It’s okay. You… I have met you before, but you were very young.” You were blinking back tears, and he squinted— curious. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” His clothes were dirty, and there was a small cut on his cheek, probably from where they had knocked him out before chucking him in. “They— please, don’t make me go back with them. They’ll hurt me, they said—“

“No, I promise… God, I swear I will never let them take you again. Okay?” His eyes brimmed with tears, but he nodded, inching forward just a little. “First, we have to get you out of here. There’s some people coming, they are going to make sure you are safe.”

“People?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “No, no I can’t go with anyone. I don’t want to go with them again.”

“I promise you— they will keep you safe.” He was still shaking his head a little, bundled up in a corner, looking over your shoulder. You’d nearly forgotten Frank was there. “He’s a friend. It’s alright.”

“Why are you helping me?” He asks, eyes still squinted. Maybe you had mistaken his curiosity for suspicion, and it killed you that he had to be.

“I… I knew your parents. They would want me to make sure you are safe. I’ve been looking for you ever since they took you.” He shoots straight up, with more energy than you would of assumed he had with the dark rings under his eyes.

“My parents? You knew them?” You nod, going to open your mouth but he was was already talking. “What about my sister? Do you know her?”

“Your sister?” You felt something inside you thaw out— he knew he had a sister.

“They didn’t want me to know about her, but I remembered. They have her somewhere, she’ll be looking for me, too. I don’t want to go with someone else— you have to help me. I want to find her. I have to tell her I’m okay!” He was frantic, standing on his knees in the back of the van, his hands stained with how he grabbed your blood covered shoulders. “They said she was coming— that they’d kill me before she could find me. You have to let me go, I need to find—“

“Easy, kid.” Frank knelt down beside you, his hand easing Sammy down to sit. He was breathing rapidly, and looked pale. “Just… take a second. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

It’s you now that might start crying. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you— watching your brother, alive and real in front of you was one thing, but seeing Frank— Frank, who apparently never misses a fucking thing, talk him through it, counting the seconds for him slow and clear.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

You knew exactly what you wanted now. God, it was so clear, now it was in front of you.

“I need to…” Sammy started saying again now his breathing was slower, less panicked. “I have to find my…” He stopped talking, looking up at you, eyes locked onto yours. “I do know you.”

“Yeah, you do.” You say, voice choked up. You knew what he was looking at. Where he had your fathers eyes, you were the spitting image of your mother. You saw the recognition, how his face drops when he puts it together. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I tried to—“

He cut you off, slamming his entire body into yours so hard you nearly toppled over. His arms locked around your neck, so tight it crushed you a little but you couldn’t care less, grabbing him just as tight. He was smiling, maybe even laughing, and for some strange reason he laughed the same as he did when he was just a little baby, all high pitched and squeaky.

The sound makes you breathe again, holding him as close as possible. Your family, your fucking brother was here, in your arms, and it felt like somehow all this had been worth it. If you had to go through everything over again, for this moment, you would. Even with your brother in your arms, though, you knew it wasn’t the only thing you’d go through hell to fight for again.

Frank had a hand on your lower back, keeping you from dropping backwards even further as Sam eventually stopped clinging to you.

“How did you find me?!” He shouted, a giant grin spread across his little face. You never thought you had a motherly bone in your body, but seeing him just made you want to grab him and never let him out of your sight again.

“I never stopped looking for you. They never let me see you, I thought you might of been…”

“I knew they had you! I nearly found you, too! But they told me you were coming, just a few months ago and I thought it wasn’t real, but it was!” A car pulls onto the street, and you grab him, putting yourself in front of Frank and Sam. Franks hand falls on your shoulder.

“It’s Madani.” You knew she would come. Knew that this wouldn’t last, but he was safe. She would make sure of it. You turned back around, linking your hand with Frank’s, who had inched closer to you.

“I never stopped looking for you.” You put your hand on his head, and he smiles again, but it doesn’t last long when he sees Agent Madani walking up to you on the street, two other agents with pale faces taking in the scene. “Don’t worry. She’s a friend, too.”

“You must be Samuel.” She bends down, nodding at you and Frank, and smiling. “It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Dinah.”

He looks back to you, unsure, and the gesture is so small but it means so much to you. To have him look to you. You nod back, trying to look as encouraging as possible while still covered in blood.

“It’s okay. You know how I said before, there’s people that can make sure you never end up here again.” You stood up, and he did the same, following you close behind.

You lead him away from the scene, but he doesn’t seem phased, which only makes the pit in your stomach a little bigger. He must be used to it— to seeing things like this. It made this decision a little easier. If he was with you, this is all he would see, and even if the prospect of leaving him moments after you got him felt like a piece of yourself was being torn out, you knew you couldn’t stay with him.

“I’ll let you guys have a second. Then we have to get moving.” She looks at you, sympathy painted on her face as she heads back onto the front lawn, trying to shoo away the gathered neighbours. Stopping at the car, you bend down again, noticing Frank has given you your space, talking with Madani.

“You sure you aren’t hurt?” He shakes his head again, eyebrows nearly crossed.

“Don’t make me go with them. I…”

“You have no idea how much I want you to stay with me. I’ve been trying to get to you for 12 years— and I’ll visit as much as they let me.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“As much as they let you? Where are you going?” He looks over your shoulder again, constantly analysing where he is, who’s around him.

“I’ve done… I’ve done some really bad things to find you, Sammy. I don’t regret it, not one second; but I have to own up to it now you’re safe.” You can feel the moment closing in on you, Frank and Agent Madani coming up behind you. “You’re gonna be okay, and I’ll be around, I just… god, you look just like him, you know.”

“Like who?” His voice was so small.

“Just like Dad.” He hugs you again, clinging onto your bloodied clothes. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to go away again.” He cries into your shirt, and you do your best not to cry with him.

You needed him to go. You needed him to be safe, and to know he wasn’t in danger anymore— Bobby was still out there, and you couldn’t give him the security you know he needed. Whether you were locked up by the FBI or hunting down the rest of the gang on your own terms, you needed to know he was safe. And happy— seeing that kid smile made the last twelve years worth it. Agent Madani calls your name, and you look at her, still clinging to your brother.

“We need to get going. The rest of the Bureau is on its way, and they won’t wait before…” She looks down at Sam, and smiles kindly, choosing not to finish her sentence in front of him.

“Madani.” Frank says, his voice low.

“Castle.” He says something to her you can’t hear, and Sam finally lets you go.

“Alright. I have to go, now. You’re gonna go with some really nice people, and they’ll make sure you’re—“

“I don’t want to.” He says, a little more defiant. He wasn’t a baby anymore, and he sure as hell had good reason not to want to go with anyone, even you.

“I don’t want you to go either, but I have to sort this shit out and then I promise I’ll come see you.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything!” He turns to Agent Madani, having to look up pretty high to see her. “She was just trying to help me! It’s my fault— I promise she was just… they would have killed me. You want them to kill a kid? Huh?!” Christ, even though you haven’t seen him since he was a baby, he sounded more like you that you thought possible.

“We just need to talk to her for a while. Make sure everything is sorted out.” Madani says, trying to reason.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine right here.” He says, and you may have your mothers face, but he has every bit of her attitude. He moves away from her, holding you by one arm, and to your surprise, grabs Frank as well, who looks down at Sammy like he’s seen a ghost.

“We need to go. Now.” She says, losing her patience as she looks down at her phone.

“Okay.” You take Sams face in your hands, seeing his cheeks already smeared with blood. “Okay, I need you to do this for me. Just go with her, and I swear to God I will come back for you, but it isn’t safe for me either. We still have to find—“

“Bobby. I know. He told me he was coming for you.” Sam says. “You promise I’ll see you soon?”

“Promise.” You hug him, and he stands to the side, Frank looking down at you.

“You promise you’ll see me real soon?” He says, and you smile, laugh, then grab him and kiss him as hard as you can. You don’t care everyone’s watching, that everyone can see— you’ve spent too much time without the people you love, and you aren’t wasting a second of it now. And you do, love him, even though it makes you feel sick and scared and all too consumed— you love the shit out of him, and he kisses you right back. You let yourself think he’s telling you the same.

“I’m coming back for you. I promise.” You whisper, and Frank leans into you, his forehead pressing to yours. “Just like you said. I just need to know he’s okay.”

“He will be. I’ll—“

“Frank, he’s not your responsibility. I’d… I’d never ask you to do that.” Your eyes flutter open, watching as he looked at you with some kind of intensity you felt nearly naked under.

“I know.” You can’t help it, leaning in to kiss him again. “You say the word, and I’ll get you out of here right now.”

“It won’t be long. I…” You weren’t going to make a promise you couldn’t keep. In truth, you have no idea how long it would be. It could be hours, years… she could be planning to take you to Rikers and lock you away for good. Whatever happened, though, you’d come back. You knew that. “I’ll come.”

“You better, or I’ll have to come find you.” He says into your hair.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Shaking his head, he links his arms around your back and crushes you to him, all but devouring every one of your senses.

“I have to go.” The sirens of cop cars sound around the corner, and you pull away at the sound but he just pulls you back. “I have to.”

“I know.” You pull him back this time, allowing for one, two, three more seconds of pure, pure happiness.

“I have to go.” You open the care door, mouth still on his. Everything is coming to a point— things feel sharp and raw and you have a name for that thing your feeling right now, the thing that’s been eating at you for a longer time that it should of. You know what it is, and that it’s not the right time or place but he kisses you again and you can’t help it. “I have to go,I—I love you. I have to go.”

You drop into the seat of the cop car behind you and the door is closed by more agents who appear out of nowhere. Through the tinted window you can only just make out his face, how his mouth is open and he hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him, and you can’t see anything more as you are sped out of your childhood street, and straight to the headquarters of Homeland Security.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should go, too.” Madani says, and Frank is still glued to the sidewalk like an idiot, watching you get hauled away in handcuffs. Like they’d do anything to hold you. “They might not kill you, but they’ll try.”

“What are you gonna do with him?” Frank nods over to where the kid— your brother, was sitting in the back of an ambulance. Madani blew out a breath.

“Social services, probably. He’s going to need a lot of help, and who knows what kind of shit he went through in there.”

“So you just ship him off?”

“Why are you trying to make me the bad guy here?” She turns to him, and Frank can’t take his eyes off the end of the road where you disappeared.

He thinks he could of blinked and missed it, that fucking word you said. He can’t even hear the sirens anymore, you were that far away. And he didn’t say it back. Said nothing at all— just fucking stood there and watched you go, staring down the street.

“If we don’t do this now, everything I’ve built— everything you’ve done for the past year goes to shit. If they find out I was working behind their backs and never brought her in, I get fired and the Gnucci’s lawyers get the case thrown out. Him and the rest of his family walk free. Are you willing to risk that? Especially now, with him out there?” She nods at the kid, but he’s still staring down the road. Madani looks too, and clearly puts it together. It probably didn’t help that he’d kissed you before you left. But what else was he gonna do? “I saw that, before. Since when were you and her…”

“You really goin’ there with me right now?” She put her hands up.

“Okay. I won’t ask.” He shakes his head, turning to face her. “He’s not going far. For now, we put him with a foster home. Keep him close as we can. I don’t want to seperate them.”

“Be a lot easier for them to be together if you let her go.” Madani sighs again, ignoring the buzzing of her phone.

“I told you both, I would do everything I can, but I’m not a miracle worker.” She goes to answer her phone and walk away, and something overtakes him. He can see the kid sitting there, alone, staring down the road like he was just seconds ago. “Some things need time. I need to put this all together, legally, or we’re all back where we started. The Gnucci’s have money— which means they have good lawyers. One slip up, and we lose everything, and I can’t control the fall out of that.” He knew what that meant— that you’d be the CIA’s next target, like you are now, and all this shit would of been for nothing. But he’d wait, if that’s what he had to do.

That little boy was gonna be waiting for you, too. The only family that kid had ever known just walked in and out in less than ten seconds. His face, all sad and tired, was tugging at strings Frank didn’t know he had left, and something about him, seeing a little bit of you in those big eyes… something in him just switches, and he’s grabbing Madani on the arm and saying something he’s probably going to regret.

“Let me take him.” Her face drops, and he thinks she laughs for a second before she realises he’s serious. He should laugh too. It was fucking ridiculous— a kid, a twelve year old, tagging along with him. Now, of all times.

“You?” Him. “You want me to hand over a vulnerable child to a known felon? A man who just racked up a higher body count that most of my agents have in years on the force, in less than twenty minutes?” He looks out at the yard, the bodies being carried away, then sees the kid out the corner of his eye, watching too, not flinching or even reacting. He felt…bad for him.

“Or take your chance in the foster system. You and I both know how well that can work out.” Madani looks at him then, the inference clearly enough to make her think for a second. “Come on. At least you’ll know I’ll be close to the city. You know I won’t be far.”

“Because you’re waiting for her.” She looks at him a final time, assessing him like she did when she first met him, interrogated him. He nodded once, and watched as she went over to Sam. His head snapped up when she started talking, and he looked him in the eyes, and it was then that Frank realised what he’d done. 

His vision and his brain was foggy with the memory and though of you, and now this kid was looking at him and he was fucking terrified. He didn’t know why, really. Maybe it was the part of him that was still so attached to kids. Your brother wasn’t that much older than Frankie Jr. would of been by now. Probably would look a lot like him too. Head of hair that messy, it was making Franks stomach churn just to think about it.

He didn’t know why he’d said what he did to Madani, but he did know you, and maybe that was why he’d done it. He knew you’d feel safer if your brother was with him, the only person you trusted since getting out. He knew a lot of things about you, now he thought about it, and yeah— that was exactly why he’d said he’d look after him. He was important to you. And you... you were everything to him.

Sam hopped off the back of the ambulance, walking over to Frank slowly, his head tilted a little to the side, and Frank thinks he might be in over his head again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[free-my-boy-grumbot]

Ranking the ASOUE parts because I’m bored and my friend isn’t online

i would love to keep it extensive but i also don’t want tumblr to crash so i will keep it brief. spoilers, obviously. also charcater death.

13. The Grim Grotto

Listen just because it’s 13th doesn’t mean it’s BAD, it just means i’m kinda indifferent to it as opposed to obsessing over it like i do with the others. It’s just that I’m not THAT into nautical themes and I have 2 nautical-themed assignments to do in school today so I’m a little sick of it.

Also, I’m just not that big on Fiona as a character. I didn’t really like the two-girls-hate-each-other-for-no-reason thing that she had going with Violet (especially because it was really out of charcater for her), her romance with Klaus seemed out of place, and her being related to Fernald just seemed like it was pulled out of nowhere to get an emotional reaction. Again, I get why you’d like her and the part, it’s just not for me personally. Also esme’s worst outfit was featured here. Also in the netflix series it just wasn’t as funny as the other ones and that’s a huge thing for me

12. The Wide Window

Honestly didn’t expect this one to be so low, but it’s difficult to choose between these bc i love them all </3 anyways I actually liked Josephine as a charcater, I like the idea that she wants to help the children but is rendered basically incompetent because of her fear, they really popped off with that. HOWEVER they did a very similar thing with Hector but way better so alas </3 12th place

Also like I said, not a massive fan of sea-themed aesthetics. Also also I LOVE all of count olaf’s disguises but I’m kind of indifferent to captain Sham so that also might be why. Also, again, the rest of the netflix series was way funnier

11. The Carnivorous Carnival

Honestly, not much to say about this one. The “not really feeling strongly one way or the other” section has come early this year apparently. Esme and Olivia both SLAYED in their outfits and we got introduced to the circus crew which was cool as fuck. Sadly I have knocked SEVERAL points off for horny count olaf. The scene where he describes madame lulu as buttered really makes you appreciate how little force it takes to rip one’s ear off. It provides me with a new and informed understanding of the phrase “skin crawling”. other than that it’s pretty good :)

10. The Slippery Slope

Now I was one of those people who didn’t know what Mount Fraught syndrome was before reading this book, and the reveal of why the mountain was named that fucking eviscerated me. I was used to this series pulling shit like this constantly and yet this one destroyed me for some reason. If you already knew what mount fraught syndrome was before reading/watching this scene then you didn’t get the full experience and i’m sorry for you.

I also don’t LOVE quigley and violet. I know i just said that about klaus and fiona so it kinda seems like i hate romance, but i really dont. i hate forced romance. romance just isn’t daniel handlers strong suit but he insists on writing it anyway, and that’s fine. it’s what i do with basically everything i write about. Especially since in the netflix series duncan also has a crush on violet so it’s kinda ??? for her to end up with quigley. like do you guys think when quigley and duncan reunited quigley told him about this really cool girl called violet he met and duncan was like “…”. anyways imagine getting cucked by your presumed dead twin brother could not be me

9. The Austere Academy

okay so i felt bad putting this lower because i know someone that really likes this part but i’m sorry it’s just kinda there. i mean it was super funny and the dead horse bit is literally everything but that’s pretty much it. idk maybe there’s a metaphor in there that i’m missing who knows

also olivia was introduced so bonus points for that i guess. she reminds me of miss honey from matilda <33

8. The Ersatz Elevator

honestly i feel bad that this is only 8th but there are so many good ones imsorry. anyways esme and jerome got introduced in this one which gives is a LOT of extra points. i love esme and i pity jerome which makes me also love him. also shoutout to günther for being the only count olaf disguise that could theoretically get it.

my only issue with it is that jerome disowning the baudelaires was kinda forced yk?? like i know it had to happen for the plot to carry on but i don’t think he had a good reason to do it. i guess points for doing something other than just killing them off again?

7. The End

OKAY so you might be thinking “oh, this part is exactly in the middle! surely that means you’re neuteral about it” LMAO I WISH i have extreme positive and negative opinions.

okay so first off it took me a couple of rewatches to get this one because when i first watched it i didn’t know about the quote that it was referencing (“religion is the opium of the people”) but MAN they mentioned that quote in class and i was catatonic for like 2 minutes because oh my god. not only did the incredibly deadly viper come back (yippieee) but they also implied that in the bible adam and eve were actually saved from something by eating the fruit?? the 4chan atheist that lives in my head really likes this one, is what i’m saying. also i know i say that about all of them because my sense of humour is basically based on this series rn but it was so funny. i live and breathe for olaf’s lil christopher columbus moment.

sadly it does have its downsides (olaf and kit) (i really hate olaf and kit) (i don’t think they’re good together). i mean SURELY kit has better taste than that. i mean don’t get me wrong they’re both my favourite characters but they have no common ground on literally anything. plus this is biased but i liked him better with georgina or esme because they remind me of several songs i really like. they literally just pulled the kit x olaf thing out of their ass so that olaf would have some semblance of a reason to die. oh yea i also think olaf didn’t need to die, i know Kit didn’t eat the antidote because it would have affected the baby but olaf could have totally eaten it!! he was offered it!! he wasn’t pregnant!!! it was so out of charcater for him not to eat it!!

6. The Hostile Hospital

Okay this one is SUPER biased because as y’all probably know i love the mad scientist trope it is my favourite trope ever AND i love count olaf so seeing them get put together was so cool. I know I keep bringing this up but i really do love the aesthetics they’re so cool. also also loved all the horror film references. most importantly (actually not that important) esmes outfit went so fucking hard literally i will never recover from the sheer power and moxie of Knife Heels. When I become actually talented at textiles i will recreate her outfit and probably ruin my carpet with those heels.

5. The Bad Beginning

a classic <33 the netflix version of this was literally one of the funniest eps of anything i ever watched i could feel my brain chemistry being rearranged as i watched it. also count olaf’s best era idc what he did he was literally just being sillay. also it has one of the best songs in the series honestly. OH ALSO justice strauss <33 and the troupe <333 literally all the beloveds are here there are no flaws

4. The Reptile Room

MONTY <333 HIIII MONTYYYY <33333333 literally my fav character he has never done anything wrong in his life ever. Also I love his fucking house it’s so cool if I had that much money I too would base my entire house on my special interest. also one of the only parts of the nickelodeon movie i didn’t hate so that’s fun.

3. The Miserable Mill

Lots of cool shit here!! First of all Shirley served astronomical amounts of cunt she had zero bad lines. Also I honestly think Georgina and Olaf were so underrated they remind me of several songs i like also they’re both fucked up and evil <333 she’s like esme but without the ulterior sugar bowl motives. also the fact that her name is GEORGINA ORWELL like ok. queen of subtlety. Like I get it if I was named that I would prolly start hypnotising people too. I also kinda love orwellian themes yk those are always fun.

AND OMG HOW COULD I FORGET CHARLESSS i feel so bad for him constantly he has never done anything wrong in his life and is also inexplicably british i love him sm

2. The Penultimate Peril

I love a good reunion episode tbh i love seeing all the characters together <33 also like this episode is so fun to dissect? (is that the right word?) i loved figuring out who JS was i loved finding differences between Frank and Ernest I loved figuring out what the fuck was going on it was so fun it’s like the best thing about this series.

of course that’s only partially true tpp would be nothing without those sexy sexy monologues

1. The Vile Village

TVV BELOVED <33 I have a separate post about the but they literally have everything. it’s a metaphor for autism it’s a metaphor for religion it’s a metaphor for the school system is there anything they CANT do. Also this is like my 5th time saying this but there are 300+ characters and i’m an indecisive bitch so i will do it again. Hector the actual loml is literally my fav charcater hes so me. don’t worry dude i cant openly defy authority despite knowing its unjust either <3 literally we would be best friends irl. she’s RELATABLE she’s MORALLY AMBIGUOUS she has SEVERAL INTERPRETATIONS I AGREE WITH she’s STRANGE she’s everything you want in an asoue book honestly

Also detective dupin and officer luciana kinda slayed what was Wrong with them <3

#cameron monologues #asoue #a series of unfortunate events #the bad beginning #the reptile room #the wide window #the miserable mill #the austere academy #the ersatz elevator #the vile village #the hostile hospital #the carnivorous carnival #the slippery slope #the grim grotto #the penultimate peril #the end asoue

[lordbettany]

Hey! I'm kind of a new Aneurin fan...I haven't watched all of his stuff yet, only a few things, but he's already re-awakened the tragic emo whump fic writer inside me :'D. Sorry if this is an odd question, but do you know if he has any scenes involving injury stuff? The closest I've seen is Citadel where he gets attacked and wakes up in hospital, and Dunkirk where...well...(sheds a tear for Gibson). I'm basically looking for scenes I can use as inspiration for whump. (asking anonymously in case this question is weird T_T)

Thank you for your question! I love watching Aneurin cry 😅 it's those huge pug eyes of his.. and don't worry, this is Tumblr. Everything is weird here 🙃🙃

Well.. I don't think he has much of those scenes, but I'll try to list some.

A welsh soap opera about a bunch of doctors called Casualty prt 2 - prt 3 - prt 4

There's a short film from his student times titled In Deep (2008) .

Ironclad (2011) - he is a wee virgin squire here who joins to his first battle.

The White Queen (2013) - Richard's death scene in the very last episode 😭 (get ready for a brand new trauma)

Mary Queen of Scots (2013) - idk if it counts, but Lord Darnley gets sick and develops pretty nasty oozing scars on his face.

A very minor hand injury in Dead in a Week or Your Money Back (2018)

Barkskins (2020) - There are a few scenes where he fights and gets injured/bloody

His final scene in The Catch (2023) might count bc he gets stabbed

And he gets beaten up a few times in 1899 (2022)

#asks #aneurin barnard #filmography

[darkclouud9]

okay Secret Life's over and I've only watched Cleo and Skizz's finales.

but I wanna rank the seasons just bc.

Secret Life is honestly 1 for me. it had my favourite alliances yet, I loved the Cletho + Grian team (I refuse to call them 'Roomies'), the Heart Foundation was amazing, the Mounders were pretty cool, I actually really enjoyed Lizzie and Scar being alone, no matter how sad it was. Big Dogs were amazing actually, one of the best pairings, most fun base in all the seasons just off the top of my head :]

but I have to say. first half of the season was my absolute favourite. silly tasks, BigB gaslighting everyone, Lizzie, Mumbo, Jimmy alive, etc etc. it's probably up until the episode they die where it felt like it decreased in enjoyment for me. the zombie apocalypse task was ehhhh, the vibe was cool, very LL energy, but I overall didn't like it all that much (I understand and appreciate it still, but the whole cancelling out other tasks was sad :[)

the vibes of this finale seem... weird.

and you might say I have no place to say that, having only watched two finales and getting spoiled on who the winner is yet again, but I personally didn't enjoy it. everyone felt extremely rushed and fumbled so hard. Joel in particular on his Skizz kill. Cleo didn't get a chance to defend herself, and neither did Etho, and presumably Grian. all the group ups felt off to me. I feel like the Heart Foundation should've stuck more to Cletho + Grian, they all could've done a bit better them I feel.

the massive group of people just sticking together and killing everyone else was a bit ehhh to me, but as Cleo put it, they'd have to kill each other eventually (ive watched it twice and I can't remember exactly what they say. I am a failure :[)

second is Last Life, I was insane over Team BEST for a while, but I'm more insane over Team TIES now (I have reasons I won't say teehee)

Mumbo and Lizzie are here!! they're cool!!

loved the mechanics for this season. boogeyman was very cool, and the random life count was epic. favourite mechanics actually.

lot of favourite deaths, Impulse's final death was pretty cool to me, betrayal deaths make me bite the bars of my cage, not looking at anyone in particular *ahem* BigB, Martyn's stupid yellow(?) death, Scar and BigB's final deaths were insane (Operation Bubblevator!!)

Fairy Fort was an insane alliance I never was that big on them when this season was active, but hooooollllly hell these guys. (Do me a favour. Die for me.)

the music disk, Etho freaking everyone out with it. the "Bogeyman", Southlands. Southlands just in general.

episode 6...........................

the final 8 survivors (-one. you know who they are they won it.) Pearl's boogey kill, her protecting Cleo, Joel's double kill, the final 2 battles. ough. this season had everything man. I hate the cold and winter but the wintery vibes of this season were immense and I loved it so much (no thanks to the Snow Fort...)

a lot of the final yellow kills were cool, in particular Etho and Cleo dying together, in the same order (twice in a row!!). Etho trying so hard to at least kill Ren before Pearl killed him is one of the most memorable moments for me.

and Mumbo screaming as Etho fishing rods him up into the air. and then the dogs.

and the lotion throw at the beginning of session 6.

and Lizzie's first death after failing to kill her husband. those are all extremely memorable moments :]

3L is next for almost no other reason than "nostalgia" purposes.

one thing I liked about this season was how innocent and pure everyone was.

idk about anyone else, but, except for its burning. s. I really enjoyed the Wool Castle. the swamp. and Etho trying to become Shrek or something. what was up with them

my favourite character from this season was undoubtedly Joel though. I LOVED his base, his dead bushes, Cleo dying to his roof, his roof constantly burning. with him. his army of dogs. first dog boy. Gerald. ine. I feel like he forgets his red skin at some point in this season and I really enjoyed the skin changes between colors.

also feel like him n Cleo tease Renchanting for being so loyal to Ren. (oh my go d they're actually calling him king!)

4th is Limited Life.

listen. I feel like I should like this season more than I did. I was sort of falling out of the Life Series at this point so I don't have much to say let alone remember.

but let me tell you.

Skynet.

5th is Double Life.

another season I feel like I should've enjoyed more. I loved Team Ranchers at first, but the way everyone sort of treated them was... whatever, and them people talking about Boat Boys made me live Boat Boys (I didn't feel much for them at first, but oh my gosh) but those two are my top two pairings (I can't pick between them rn)

I have no hate for this season

Scar and his allay buddy, being oblivious to who his soulmate is, Mickey Mouse. Scar was a pretty fun character, plus all his skins for this season were really cool!! insane over them still

all the pairings were really cool, I loved the Divorce Quarter, the Vultures. they were cool, I loved how they just refused their fate. (and how Martyn literally killed himself. and how Cleo was the only person to have died all three times while Martyn was partially responsible for all of them in some way.)

the pillar outside the Midcentury Modern Home or something. the fishing rod party. (Joel and Etho's demise-) one thing I feel like was overlooked with them was that Scott was like. wrong. about them. sure having the both of them pulled up so they take double damage was stupid. but it was Joel. who. died. and took all of their hearts. Etho didn't even hit the ground. in fact I think he barely even left it.

also one thing that makes me bite and tear at my cage is that Etho and Joel were the pairing to have died at the midpoint. 3 pairings died before them. 3 pairings died after them. and, despite Joel losing their earlier 2 lives, Etho being the first to die on their final life splits them into top half and bottom half, with Etho being 8th this season, and Joel being 7th.

also the Ranchers' Warden was-

#life series #ig #long post #its 1am rn idk how long ive been typing this

[kittyknight]

Shots and their consequences

There was something the Mafioso understood aside from obedience - that was taking shots and dealing with the consequences. Of course, he had been taught the skills capable of taking down any of the townsfolk who got in his way, all he had to do was just leave the body.

HEY SO UH. This was. Small drabble I wrote ages ago, but mainly kept it to myself and a couple of friends bc. Hehehe…

I’ll be honest, this is completely different from the content I would typically produce. Or uh, produced… I wrote this back in April, and my little pea brain in October thought “Eh? Why not share it with the [checks hand] seven town of salem enjoyers.”

Highly doubt this will happen again but… idk maybe I might want to make a comic that takes place pre-salem loosely based off the town of salem canon (we will focus on the mafia) (we always focus on the mafia) (coven, town and neutral enjoyers i am so sorry /lh)

Anyway, uh, please enjoy! Or don’t- /lh

—————

Fandom: Town of Salem

Pairing: Mafioso/Traitor!Escort

Word count: 1184

CWs: Implied canon typical violence (the mayor is dead, guess who killed them), discussions relating to death and inadequacy (the mafioso is not having a good time), I guess this counts as angst? It’s okay tho he gets comforted-

————

There was something the Mafioso understood aside from obedience - that was taking shots and dealing with the consequences. Of course, he had been taught the skills capable of taking down any of the townsfolk who got in his way, all he had to do was just leave the body.

The same fate was for the mayor, who now was lifeless at his feet. A shame, really. For someone with control and authority, he had just been treated like the Sheriff. The Doctor. The Vigilante. The only difference? He could have been so much more if he wasn’t such a coward.

There again, cowardice had never been an option for the Mafioso. Only obedience.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t understand.

Stumbling out of the window, the Mafioso looked up to the night sky. A familiar comfort. Quiet and serene, yet left Salem in a glow which only seemed to heighten the mystical disease which plagued this town. He wandered from the Mayor’s house, back into his own home. His job was done for the night, the shot was taken.

Now came the consequences. He sat down on the old chair and just. Thought. What does cowardice achieve, exactly? Come to think of it, was hiding in the veil of the night a coward’s move? Would a coward kill others for the sake of his family?

Was he a coward for relying solely on following orders?

At that point, a knock came from the door. Great. It’s probably going to be that Investigator, snooping around and asking about his skillset. Just what did he have going for him anyway? The ability to not ask questions? The ability to unconditionally do whatever he was asked? The ability to take control, like a witch? Now wouldn’t that be nice… at least a witch isn’t at the whim of a boss who hides behind his own pawn. His boss was the closest thing to a father figure, of course. Yet, there had always been this strange disconnect between the duo. Still, things can’t be helped, it’s merely business…

The Mafioso proceeded to open the door, only to be greeted by a short woman in a blue dress.

His fellow business partner, the traitor. He sighed as he mumbled:

“Weren’t you supposed to be at that alleged bodyguard’s home?”

“Wasn’t there,” the traitor explained, rubbing her arm “I assume the jailor took him. Probably mistook him for the boss.”

Typical. Everyone has to hide away - himself included.

“If you don’t mind…” the traitor continued “Figured I could… have some company?”

“Go on.” The mafioso rolled his eyes as he gestured her to come in. Nervously, she smiled at him, before entering his home. The Mafioso followed behind her, closing the door. It was fairly common for the traitor to ask for company, she hated spending nights alone - that was for certain. Usually, anyone would be willing to spend the night with an adorable, precious lady…

The same lady who always seemed to linger around him, like a butterfly around a rose. A shame he was all thorns.

Lately though, she had asked for his company specifically. Heck, once her targets were asleep, she would sneak out just to visit him. This had been going on for the past couple of nights, and the mafioso couldn’t help but secretly - yet eagerly - await her arrival. At least after dealing with the… everything else first…

“I assume you’ve dealt with the quiet one, yes?” The traitor suddenly asked, now having taken a seat. All he could do was nod, reminding himself of how cowardly that Mayor was. He didn’t say anything else as he paced across the room, trying not to remind himself of the struggle that occured between them. Slowly, the traitor turnt towards him, noticing the brooding look on his face. It was normal for him to be lost in thought but she couldn’t help but observe just how he looked… in pain. As if, for once, he was the one being hurt by the thorns.

“Hey, Mafi” The traitor began, getting up from her seat “Is something bothering you?”

No response. He just… stared at her, a sickly, hollow look in his eyes. The traitor just gulped and she got closer to him.

“It was definitely the right target, yes?”

Again, nothing. He seemed to actively avoid eye contact, his mouth quivering. Cautiously, the traitor paused for a moment, trying to figure out some way to get him talking. However, when she finally figured out something, he sputtered out:

“I'm no different from the others, am I?”

The traitor’s eyes widened, the concerned look on her face now blended with confusion.

"I mean, everyone expects you to be covert," he continued "Masking yourself behind bundles of lies in hopes that people just. Understand."

"If you don't want to die, of course." The traitor pointed out "Nobody is going to want to go for the most beautiful flower in a bush. It would be too obvious."

He swore she gave him a wink.

"No, they instead go for the ones who bury their heads in the dirt and hope that nobody pulls them out" He slowly explained, looking down as he finished:

"The ones like me"

He sighed as he leaned against the table, just like he relied on everyone else. Honestly, why would he even admit that? If he had admitted that to the boss - or anyone else for that matter - they probably would have tried to actively argue against it. Or worse, literally beaten some sense into him. In fact, he was half expecting her to do the exact same thing, and he would just have to listen to her, like everyone else.

However, the traitor instead just slowly bowed her head as she whispered:

"Makes two of us."

She proceeded to reach her hand out towards him, a faint red tint seeming to bloom on her cheeks. Cautiously, the Mafioso tilted his head towards her.

"Let's be real, we're all cowards in this town." The traitor carried on "We're just the ones who are fully aware of it, and want to change it."

How was he meant to change his fate? All he did was follow orders. Obedience is key, after all. However, it all made sense once she chuckled as she proclaimed:

"Trust me, there's nobody more courageous than you specifically. After all, a coward wouldn't blindly risk his own life if it meant he got closer to being that change."

With that, the Mafioso got up and hesitantly reached out his hand towards her, only for him to pause and ask:

"...could I hold you, for a moment?"

Surprisingly, she immediately went straight for him, wrapping her arms around his chest. Initially he froze, unsure if it was even acceptable for him to return the gesture. Yet, when she began to stroke his back and mutter… something laced with… Understanding? Pity? Admiration? Either way, he reciprocated the hug, leaning down to rest his head on hers.

It felt like an unfamiliar feeling was growing inside of him.

Maybe one day he could understand what it was.

#town of salem #tos #town of salem mafia #tos mafioso #tos fanfic #town of salem fanfiction

[impala-dreamer]

Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, then send this to 10 people (anon or not, your choice) 🎥🎬📺 (you don't have to do this, feel free to ignore it 😘)

oh boy... strap in, folks - much like @kittenofdoomage did, I'm going to try and not stick to SPN here (I think we all know where I stand with those boys anyway- so- ahem-)

In no particular order....

1- The Brat Prince, Himself- The one and only Vampire Lestat, and yes, I'm using Tom Cruise bc I haven't seen the new show yet, but of literary media- Lestat deLioncourt shall always and forever be my number one. He has been with me since I was 12 years old and shall never leave ever for any reason. the end.

2 - Jack Shepard from LOST. Now, I know what you're thinking- he kinda sucks, and yes, yes he does. but honestly, beside Hugo- they ALL kinda suck. And since the pilot, I have always felt very connected to Jack and his struggles with life and death and good and bad. He's just my main guy, OK? Get off my back about it and help me move this giant wheel thingy...

3- Rory Williams, The Last Centurion, and Greatest Companion- Doctor Who. He just... He is me in any and all magical/epic/adventure situations and I can't get around that. And he's adorable and so loving and just the utter best.

4- Roger Sterling - Mad Men. One of the greatest sonsofbitches ever. He drinks like I do (martinis), he's cool and sexy like I am. He's sophisticated and tired. Just like me. lol

5- Ryan O'Reilly - OZ. Just watching this for the first time but I am 1000000% in and He is just so incredible. I can't even explain it but I'm hanging onto the hope that he makes it out alive. lol

6- Shawn - The Good Place. Really, it's everyone from TGP and I can't really choose, but I just adore Marc Evan Jackson, so I went with him. lol

7- Quentin Coldwater - The Magicians. He just... We are the same person, and if you watch the show, you'll understand me and what I mean. He is my heart.

8- Link Neal - GMM - Look, I just think he's sexy and kind of an asshole and I dig that accent.

9- Jerry - The Walking Dead. WHAT? Beka! You're Team Rick! You love Negan! What about Daryl? OK- Listen up folks, of anyone on that show- I would only ever trust Jerry. Also anytime he was in peril, I would literally scream at the tv "you better not hurt my baby!!!" so... there ya go.

10- Paul Hollywood - GBBS. Idk if he counts, but he does. And I don't think I really need to explain myself.

damn, that was hard. I really wanted to smush a jensen in there a few times, but I behaved. lol

#about me #charaters that aren't jensen related

[liggytheauthoress]

for the ask thing: every third one?

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will. idk if it counts bc I haven't been in the fandom since the first part of s3 aired, but I never got into Stiles/Lydia from Teen Wolf, like, at all

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? not counting HP, for obvious reasons, I've loved Newsies since early 2011, so probably that

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why? first one that comes to mind is The Walking Dead - people were so horrible about Lori and it just soured the entire show for me

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. I'm pretty indifferent to Crixus from Spartacus (I realize I might be a terrible person for this but eh) but he is so sweet and such a good partner when it comes to Naevia

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of? The last song I listened to was Not Done Yet by Superchick, so…it's a little too upbeat for her but I get lowkey Andy TOG vibes.

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom? I'm not calling it my all-time favorite, bc I really can't pick just one, but the first one that comes to mind is Wylan&Kaz from Six of Crows x)

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

Joan Watson, but if we got into reasons why we would be here until next Thursday.

Nicolo di Genova - he's such a complex character! He has one of the biggest hearts in the world and his purpose in life is to take care of people but he is also a feral ruthless badass who will murder you dead if you hurt his family, that's one of my favorite character types ever.

newer character on the favorites list, but Wylan Van Eck. He is also a sweet kind boy who will also kill you to death if necessary. And he's so smart! And talented! And traumatized!

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom. I am just going to answer this with a helpful diagram:

#addictsitter

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

(Note: All of these asks are before episode 206 (Season 2 finale) so some may be dated.) 1. Am I just dumb or do the lo fans who insist we "see" how powerful Persephone is are actually lying? Because sure we'vr see big trees and once or twice seen "wild" vegetation, but have we ever actually SEEN her use her powers? and no the AOW doesn't count since that wasn't her actually doing it willingly (such a dumb retcon). IDK it seems like we've seen more instances of  Hades using their powers all the time yet we've never actually seen the supposed "chosen one" Persephone once use her own.

2. It's so frustrating how there's no reflection on Rachel nor the fandom's part for how Eros is depicted. When he's around Persephone he starts acting more "feminine" and even gets design-wise to look more "feminine" with his posing, eyelashes, beauty marks, and slimed down with more androgynous clothes, but as soon as he's with Psyche he's depicted as much taller, muscular, and in darker more "manly" outfits with chiseled features. I don't even think it's intentional, but it's very hmm induing.

3. At the begging of LO RS made it seem like Persephone didn’t have many friends or that her friends were kinda just spies for Demeter so she kept them at arms length, where we’d see that Artemis is suppose to be her first “real friend” and I guess Eros too? But no this whole time she had dead flower nymphs that didn’t get named almost 200 episodes in; and after mentioning said dead flower Nymphs Persephone wants to watch Hades’ first meeting with herself where she was naked/he was drunk so they can have a laugh. 

4. NGL I want RS to cover the Trojan War bc I want to see what absolutely stupid ideas she'd put into it but also I just know she'd make Helen hashtag Empowered™️ by wanting Paris and being complacent in the deaths of thousands and be weirdly anti Menelaus who is clearly the bad guy here but also she'd make sure Helen's "beauty" is in comparing her to Persephone because of course you can't have anyone be hotter than her. I can see it vividly and it's horrendous.

5. I mean idk making LO be 100 give or take episodes would have probably been for the better. Im not saying it couldnt be a bit longer than that, but she's basically restarted the whole story 200+ episodes in, so there's really no excuse to claim she HAD to have all these episodes when other popular webtoons got their stories done in a good way without such an excessive amount. IMHO A short but strong story is so much better than a dragged out, weak story like LO has turned into.

6. TBH I'm surprised LO hasn't done a "cancellation' plotline yet. I can see it now, Hades ranting the media is trying to ruin Persephone's reputation and trying to take away all her prospects and shaming her for the harmless crime of mass murder. Probably throw in some "it is misogyny to critique her" for good measure and with zero reflection as he's in his massive mansion as he gets rich off ongoing slave labor. I feel like just off her handling of Thanatos we'll get it eventually.

7. I was going to say why is there never any gay renderings of HxP only to remember than one MLM comic on Canvas that just rips off LO down exact plot points and the only major WLW version i've seen was a book so hyper violent towards Persephone (with female Hades?? loving to abuse her??) and hateful of Demeter it actually made me sick to my stomach. Anyway outlaw HxP retellings i've had ENOUGH 🗣

8. the fans claiming "rachel is giving persephone a CHOICE" which like for one, who says she has the authority? but even then she's still, you know, a fictional character, she doesnt have agency by the mere fact she's fiction, so at the very least it has to be written into her character to make choices within the narrative, but rachel doesnt even do that? stuff just HAPPENS to persephone and she doesnt react, she's just yanked along. rachel doesnt even write her to make choices, she just exists.

9. its funny rachel claims LO is some empowering feminist story when its like, even barring the clear fact its NOT, the "feminism" is basically the "more 👏🏽 female 👏🏽 CEOS 👏🏽"logic of not actually fixing old power structures and creating equality. the system doesnt need to change, it just needs to be more accessible, which doesnt actually fix anything. making persephone be another CEO doesnt make it suddenly feminist, she's just now profiting from an unfair system like the men already do.

10. People are calling Hades "Persephone's husband" 🤡 yes we all know how it will end but at this point he is merely a guy she knew for 3 weeks 10 years ago. Calling him husband is ridiculous.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[n0ct0urn1quet]

fandom ask s war kitties 1, 8, 14, 16, 18

answering this made me realize that i dont remember much about actual wc lore. ive been so focused on my own stories n characters that i was like oh yeah. warrior cats isnt my own made up creation and it already has canon established charcaters and stories . yeah <3 PLUS ALSO IT MADE ME REalize i barely know anything about the series from thr 5th series onward. like i know and have read every book from series 1-3, read 4/6 books i the 4th series, and i havent read the 5th, 6th, or 7th series. BUT i did read the first book in the 8th series annnnnd i liked it a lot so :) but yeah i dont really know much about series 5-7 but from what ive heard and seen n from what ive seen in videos the 5th series is good, the 6th series is okay and the first half of the 7th series is fine but it gets worse after book 3 KJSDKJBLKJG

1. What originally drew me to it

well. i was at the library in like 4th grade (maybe 3rd i genuinely dont remember) and i saw the cover for fire and ice (the 2nd book in the 1st series) and i waslike omg thasa kitty !!!!!!! and i read it and i aws like "WAW I NEED TO READ MORE I LOVE THESE FUCKED UP CATS HHOOOHGH WHATS GONNA HAPPEN TO GRAYSTRIPE AND FIREHEART HOUOUHG???!??!" n then i went back read the first book and after that i just. yeah <333

8. The character with the greatest wasted/unexplored potential

like. every single background character in thunderclan. because think about it so many of them could be interesting and have interesting stories and potential to do stuff but sooooo many cats are juts. wasted potential. i think hollytuft, one of lionblaze's and cinderheart's kits, could have had so much potential. SHE could've gotten flamepaw's arc of not living up to everyones expectations. hollytuft is named after lionblaze's dead sister hollyleaf and i feel like flamepaw's whole arc of being liek "ugh ive never even MET firestar and hes this IMPORTANT LEADER GUY and he's my GREAT GRANDFATHER and i look NOTHING LIKE HIM!!!!" could have and should have been given to hollytuft. hollytuft never met hollyleaf but with hollytuft her design looks exactly like hollyleaf, black fur n green eyes. something could have been done with that, with her being liek "ohhh im nervous because my dad wants me to live up to my aunt hollyleaf's name but ouhghg i feel like im not good neough because im juts a nobody im not special like she was !!!" and aughudgbhj. even her siblings fernsong and sorrelstripe could have had a similar arc to hers as they're both named after other cats, ferncloud and sorreltail who are also both deceased. but noOOOOo they gave what could have been an interesting story to Firestar Clone #4 and not her </333

14. The character/story arc I find the most compelling

i really really really like frostpaw's arc so far. idk if that rly counts bc arc 8 isnt finished yet and book 2 isnt even OUT yet so all we have to go off of is what was shown in book 1 but so far im just IN LOVE with her. poor thing was like "im gonna be a medicine cat apprentice!!!!!" and suddenly had to deal with her leader dying, their deputy being mysteriously murdered, and then her own mother bein mauled to death in front of her by DOGS. on top of that her mentor, her mediicne cat mentor, DOESNT BELIEVE IN STARCLAN and thats like a HUGE THING because a med cat is , yknow, supposed to be connected To Starclan n is supposed to get prophecies n stuff from them but mothwing, frostpaw's mentor, doesnt. believe in starclan. so its just. yeah! its very very interesting so far

16. A scene/moment that makes me really emotional every single time

there's. i think these few extra chapters in one of the books that comes after squirrelflight's hope, where leafpool dies. and its these few like bonus chapters about jayfeather (leafpool's son) and his own grief and him trying so hard to deny that he's grieving and then being visited by leafpool from starclan and just LOSING IT and its so ?? heart wrenching??? and afterwards he's like "actually no. it is okay 2 grieve . i am going to be okay" AND IM JUTS LIKE AWAHHAHAAAHAAAA <:( <:( <:(

18. A plot hole that makes me want to tear my hair out

theres so many. thers so many plot holes and inconsistencies in warrior cats that id be here all night if i had to name them all . but i suppose ill give a list of the ones i hate very very very VERY much :

i feel like every single Thing about starclan/the dark forest is just. a plot hole. in the prophecies begin and i think the new prophecy the dark forest is supposed to be a place where every Evil Cat goes and spends the rest of their life in solitude and they dont speak to any other dark forest resident. they can still talk to living cats through dreams but thats about it. but then fuckin idk in the 4th series theyre like "uhhh yeah hawkfrost tigerstar and brokenstar and every other dark forest warrior are able to communicate with each other which shouldnt be. like. possible! but oh well <3 same with starclan bc its like sometimes they can do certain things and then in other books theyre like "umm actually we cant do that" so its like . H

every single parent/kit plot hole/inconsistency. theres so many cats who we dont know the fathers/mothers of (though its more often than not the fathers who are unknown) and that on its own is to be expected, esp in super editions or in the early series. we to this day still have no idea who sandstorm's parents are. we don't know who ashfur/ferncloud's father is. we dont know who cloudtail's father is. we dont know a lot of things! but something that bothers me is when the warrior cats family tree tries to say that this cat is so-and-so's father especially when said cat is absolutely not the kit's father. like with whitestorm and brindleface, whitestorm is said to be brindleface's mate and therefore ferncloud and ashfur's mate. but whitestorm was already mates with willowpelt at the same time as he was supposedly mates with brindle, and whitestorm is absolutely not the type of person to have a mate, have kits with said mate, and then instantly move on to another cat while his kits are still in the nursery. whitestorm is loyal and by all means a good father to his Actual kits, sorrelkit rainkit and sootkit. and then the wc family tree also suggested that redtail and brindleface (yes, the same brindleface who's suppsoedly also mates with whitestorm) are the parents of sandstorm despte sandstorm during the 1st series not participating in either of their funerals. plus if you make sandstorm brindleface's daughter you make ashfur her brother and you make squirrelflight' sandstorm's daughter, ashfur's niece. and thats REAL bad when the whole ashfur having a thing for squirrelflight happens. yikes!

thats really it those are all the things i can think of. ik its only 2 things but . oh well DBJHBJKG

#thank u for the ask <3 yippee!!!!!

[sarriane]

2022 Year of Fic in Review Boogaloo

sariane on ao3

Total number of completed stories: 4 Total word count: 42,185 Fandoms: dr who, our flag means death

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?: i am honestly surprised i wrote anything at all, this year has suuuucked!

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?: our flag means death was a surprise! i even saw the trailer in january and thought it looked very dumb (the trailer was... not great). the last thing i expected was that it would have a fandom, much less that i would be into it.

What's your favorite story of the year?: space growlr, hands down. i literally had so much fun with it, mixing goofiness with romance and writing something for me.

Did you take any writing risks this year?: i was gonna say no, but i did technically write furry fanfic, and that's a whole new genre for me. i doubt i did it any true justice.

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?: keep survivin', meet zine deadlines, work on your plotting and pacing skills, & spice up the prose a little babes.

My best story of the year: i'm going to say space growlr again, bc it may be the only one i like.

My most popular story of the year: stay the course, which i feel caught the last wave of ofmd fandom before it went into hibernation. i am slow! (and honestly, dw fanfic world is sooo dead right now, and i am writing rarepairs. there's no competition.)

Story that was most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: again, space growlr!!! because no one appreciates danvanista like the ship deserves!!!! hmph!!

Most fun to write: oh my god are all of these answers going to be 'the silly furry rarepair fanfiction that three people read' oh no

Single sexiest (or cutest) moment: somehow i didn't post a real smutfic this year, so i'm gonna go with fourteen/simm punching each other silly and then having a dumb makeout session fight to see who wins. they're so dumb and i missed them.

Hardest to write: stupid! pirate! story!!! i don't even know WHAT that story is. it needs like... probably half of it cut out and the last chapter rewritten. idk man i don't get paid for this.

Biggest disappointment: me ngl i was hoping that posting updates on the pirate fic week-by-week would somehow encourage people to comment or talk to me about the fic, and that i'd make friends, but i only had one or two people follow it as a WIP! i'm never doing anything for ~the engagement~ ever again haha.

Biggest surprise: that i somehow ended up writing rassilon/omega smut as a joke!! it took me a half hour and was easier than anything! i will do absolutely anything for the bit, huh.

Favorite lines: because i only posted 4 fics this year, i'm just gonna drop a line from each.

space growlr:

Dan: SOS Karvanista: [AJE928384AJ392DJ9402.jpg] Dan: It means Save Our Souls, not send SHIRTLESS PICS!!

stay the course:

Stede can taste it on his tongue. He can hear it beating in his chest. It sounds like love, and it looks like Ed curled up on the sofa with a glass of brandy and his deep, heavy eyes drawing him in. It’s moonlight and fleeting touches, dodgy treasure maps and scary stories. It’s a life, and an adventure, and it’s not rooted in anything but the promise of each other. “I won’t say that I love you, because I haven’t proved it yet,” Stede says. “But I think I’m figuring out what that means, to love someone. And I want a second chance to prove how I feel.”

the black scrolls of rassilon:

i can't lmao this is too cracky to choose from

which to bury, us or the hatchet?:

He fills himself in through the gaps in the Master’s memories and takes them all with the kiss. The Master dies and dies and he lives on, the Master is a gaping wound and he is a yellow bruise, the Master accepts and he grieves. The Doctor takes it all.

#i write fanfiction

[wangxian-on-repeat]

jin guangyao: what can i say... sometimes a day just has bad vibes and you gotta deal with it ya know...

nie mingjue: *qi deviating in the background* SHU T T H E FU CK U P

#i cannot believe i made jin guangyao say 'ya know' #can you ever see him saying 'ya know' #what is wrong with me #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs meme #cql meme #the untamed meme #incorrect mdzs #incorrect cql #incorrect the untamed #idk if this counts as death bc hes not dead yet but #death tw

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

[phone] : whose car is in our parking spot?

[phone] : did you already move on?

[phone] : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

[phone] : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

[phone] : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

[phone] : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

[phone] : don’t try to run

[phone] : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

[phone] : i know who you are

[phone] : i'll be there in 20

[phone] : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

[as-i-watch]

You better get ready bc its time for

The Straw Hats' Tragic Backstories

Ranked from what i personally consider to be less tragic to most tragic. With pictures!

I accounted not only how scaring their backstories are but also how long they suffered for, balancing the bad and the good times. Be ready

N°9 (Less Tragic): Usopp

Less Tragic is still Tragic. He lost his mom, never knew his father and never felt he fitted in at his hometown where he gain the reputation of problem child. That said, he still had a pretty 'normal' childhood and was a happy and emotionally stable kid, somehow.

N°8: Zoro

Now with Zoro there's the issue there's a lot we (or at least I) dont know. The times he spend at the dojo gave him somewhat of a home but before that he appeared to be a homless orphan maybe? Also then there is Kuina's death which defined so much about him through pain. Beyond that, he grew up in a safe space with people that cared about him.

N°7: Luffy

He never had a parental figure to look up to and he was raised in a way by many people. He's sense of familly lied with Sabo and Ace bc nobody else stayed around long enough (except for Dadan). Similar to Zoro, the 'death' of Sabo defined a lot about him through pain. He ranks above Zoro because he lived to survive and his and his brothers lives were often put in mortal danger.

N°6: Brook

The fact that he had a whole happy life didnt allowed me to rank him very high but at the same time, wandering arround for decades alone, traped in the darknes, souraded only by the dead bodies of his nakama. I couldn't put him last either. Not to mention the lost of his body.

N°5: Franky

Now it's getting real. Franky did have a happy childhood with his found family doing what he loved that is building ships. But, the boats he created were used against him to bring down and arrest his father figure/mentor. In desperation he traid to fight a train to stop it and lost his body in the process. He never saw Tom again.

N°4: Sanji

There are two sides to this. One, so far all we (or at leats I) know of Sanji is from when he was already an apprentice at a kitchen, what's the story before that? Idk but i bet is not happy. Then ofc is the issue that he almost starved to death at the ripe age of 8 and had to carry on with the guilt of costing this pirate-chef his leg and career, who eventually became his mentor/father figure. No wonder he is so closed off emotionally. Thanksfully, after that he seemed to have gronw up without other insidents and he loved it in the Baratie

How are you doing? Sad yet?

Well buckle the fuck in bc we are entering the top three and oh boy

N°3: Chopper

Rejected by everyone since he was born and it only got worse after the ate the devil fruit. He was attacked by his own and also by humans. The only one that showed him love and kindness was Hiluluk, his father figure/mentor, who he ended up killing while trying to find a medicing to save him. All things considered he had some happy times in the middle.

N°2: Nami

She was a happy kid until Arlong came along, murdered her mom infront of her eyes and took her away. Not only she was forced to work and live with Arlong, but she also had the lives of everyone on her village on her shoulders, and she made it so at the age of 8! She lived the next decade terrorized by Arlong, alone, thinking everyone hated her and carrying that weight on her own. Her final snap when she stabs herself on her tattoo cannot be more heartbraking

N°1 (Most Tragic): Robin

There's just, so much to unpack. She lived alone, her mother left her and her adoptive family rejected her. The only solance she found was studying but then the Marine came along. They killed everyone she loved in front of her eyes, they burned her entire island and made her the sole survivor. After that they persecuted her all her life, she was betrayed and sell out more times than she can count probably. She was forced to live in the run, never trusting anyone and never belonging anywhere, which was all she ever wanted.

- Thanksfully they all found happiness later in life having wonderful adventures with the Straw Hats, one big fam -

I hope you liked my post (ಥ‿ಥ)b

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