#the deadliest man in the tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xmalereader · 2 months

Text

Simon Riley x High Ranking! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: Could I request a Ghost x male reader story. Male reader is also in the Task Force 141 as a high ranking officer. He never goes out on the field with the others. Ghost and male reader know each other for a long time and are together. (You can decide if they are married , etc). So reader is very shy and has an innocent and introverted aura. (Wears glasses, barely talks etc.) That’s also why they all were surprised when they found out that Ghost and Reader are together, because Ghost is… well Ghost. So, the reader defects to Makarov and because of the reader Makarov succeeds. So the 141 ‘hates’ reader and sees him as a traitor. So Ghost has to decide, if he is loyal to the Task Force or his lover. [You can decide what happens of course and also if reader survives and etc. Just don’t make a twist were reader goes back to 141 or kills Makarov :) ]

WARNINGS/ CONTENT: Language, angst, hurt/no comfort, specific details to reader, Soap being soap, mentions of Makarov, MW3 mentions, slight fluff, more dialogue, betrayal, simon is ruined.

WC: 3.4K

TAGS: @dzeilan

NOTES: I may have over done it with this fix but at least I got it finished 😂 but anyways hope you enjoy this request! I tried my best to keep it angsty and tempted to make a second part but for now I’m putting it in the maybe drafts. I decided to end it in a semi cliff hanger!

Task Force 141 was monitored and by someone above Price. Not many people knew who it was but they didn’t hear stories about the man being ruthless to his team, always giving them the hardest missions and dealing with the most deadliest and dangerous people. Everyone thought figured that he was a cold blooded man who stayed cooped up in his own office, never leaving or joining the field like the rest of the others. That’s. how everyone saw him.

When in reality he was the total opposite which surprised the 141.

In reality he was quiet and only spoke with authority when meeting up with the team, but when alone he was very closed up and not very social with the others, keeping to himself and not getting close with the others. Y/n had heard the gossip floating around about him and usually ignored it. He was a higher ranking than anyone else and could have easily found a way to stop the murmuring, but he wasn’t that power drunk to do something stupid.

Only his team knew what he was really like, he’s spent enough time with Price that he’s warmed up to the captain, always addressing him as ‘sir’ each time they meet only for Y/n to remind Price that he doesn’t need to call him that whenever they were alone and considered the man as a friend. Price was actually the one who approached him about building a team of his own, wanting his approval and guidance.

Y/n was surprised by this and intrigued by what he had in mind. When Price showed him the files of the people he wanted in his team, he can’t help but hide his small grin when his eyes land on a familiar name, finding it funny that he would be the boss to his own deadly boyfriend that everyone feared, wearing that scary mask that only made his silence much more deadly and intimidating for others.

He had told Price that he wanted to review the files first before giving an official approval, getting the time that he needed to review each soldier that he chose and memorizing every little thing about them and finding them impressive by the second. It didn’t take long for him to approval Price’s team and granting the man permission to gather them up and move on with a mission regarding Hassan during that time.

As much as Y/n hated being out in public and in front of others he had no choice but to be present during the time that Hassan was terrorizing the world. Many other soldiers had a chance to finally see who the scary man was only to grow confused when they saw him for the first time, wearing glasses while he squints at some paper work and maps, trying to figure out Hassans next location or if could find any other information regarding the man.

He would stay up all day and night looking for anything to help him, cooping himself up in his office with papers scattered around and computer opened as he did his own research. How he received a high ranking title he will never know, but his skills brought him this far.

Those quiet nights when everyone is sleeping a shadow creeps inside his own room, hovering over him from where he sat. He can feel their presence and doesn’t move his eyes from the computer. “If you are here to force me into bed, then I will have to decline.” He speaks up, hearing a familiar chuckle and tilts his head back to find Simon standing over him, hands on the back of his chair as he wore that skull mask over his face, gear gone and leaving him in black clothing and a jacket.

“You’ve been working day and night with no sleep.”

“How do you know I haven’t slept?” Y/n raised a brow and lowers his head to focus back on his computer screen only for Simon to place his fingers around his neck, using his index finger to tilt his head back in a gentle manner as he stares down at the man.

“You have bags under your eyes.” He moves his fingers up his cheek and grazed his finger under his glasses near his eye, noticing the lack of sleep from his own lover. “You know I can’t sleep.”

Simon lets him go and sighs as he watched his lover focus back on his work and moving maps around as Simon watched him from behind. “You won’t lose anything if you sleep.”

“But Hassan—“

“Is out of sight. For now.” Simon cuts in, using his own authority voice on his lover in order to get some sense into him. The two have been dating for about a year now, keeping it on the down low and preventing anyone from finding out. Y/n over ranked Simon and doesn’t know how the others would react when finding out that he’s dating their deadly weapon. He knows that Simon cares for him and his health and wants to make sure that he at least gets some rest.

“Fine…” He mumbled out and with that Simon reaches over to close his computer the room grows dim and the only light shinning through the window is the moonlight. “Time for bed.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You sure act like one.” Said Simon, chuckling at his own words which makes Y/n roll his eyes and cracks a tired smile. He gets off his chair and follows Simon to bed as the other soldier helps him out by removing his glasses first and setting them on the desk with the rest of his stuff and gets him into bed.

These nights are special to them since its the only time that they are able to spend time together without getting caught, having to sneak around like high school teenagers in order to avoid any trouble, but sooner or later they’d have to let the rest of their team know. As he snuggled up against Simon he lets out a deep sigh, feeling exhausted from all the work his mind was all over the place thinking about the mission and the things that could be happening without their knowledge, but they had no ability into knowing it.

“Stop thinking.”

“Can’t help it.” Y/n mumbled out in the dead of night.

The silence of the base was killing him and he hated it. “Your thoughts are loud.”

“You telling me that you can read minds?” Y/n raised a brow at Simon while chuckling. “If I could read minds I would have gotten to Hassan by now.” He did have a point.

Y/n lies his head on Simons chest and taps his fingers against his stomach as he thinks. “I just worry for everyone and I’d feel guilty it something happened to you and everyone else.” When Y/n received such a high ranking he didn’t expect the amount of stress to come with it since he was in charge of his own team and deciding the fate of the mission. When he got his first team he had to take multiple risks, almost costing him the lives of his own soldiers which devastated him.

There were times that he wanted to leave his rank to get rid of the guilt that he felt only to learn that he couldn't’ always save everyone even if he tried.

“Not everyone can be saved, Y/n. It takes one life to save millions.”

But it also takes one mistake to risk millions.

After last nights reassurance, Y/n is able to work a lot better all thanks to Simon in forcing him to sleep. Tracking their target was getting easier, finding the locations and sending in the proper help in order to get rid of the missiles that were lost. It wasn’t until Shepherds betrayal that they were separated.

Y/n had lost communication with his team and Simon, stuck back in base where the shadow company was taking over Alejandro’s people. He caught on quickly when chaos erupted in base, collecting his things quickly and hiding them in the vents and getting his own gun ready when facing the shadow company.

Even though Y/n looked like an innocent man due to how quiet he is around others he was also deadly when others were in danger getting through the halls and gunning down anyone who came after him, not hesitating to fight back as he sneaks around the halls and onto the second floor where he makes his escape, he uses one of the shadow companies uniforms to get through the base without being noticed, making it through the gates and towards their radio station.

He uses it to communicate with the rest of his team, checking up on them and hoping that they are still alive. His anxiety spiked when he doesn’t get a response fearing the worst has happened to Simon, fearing that he’s lost the one person he loved. He wasn’t one for crying, but the lack of response was bringing him to tears, close to giving up and heading back down to hunt Graves down.

“Are you crying?”

Y/n gasps, turning around quickly with his gun out when coming face to face with Soap. “Soap.” He sighs in relief to see him alive as he lowers his gun, ready to scold the man only to see Simon climbing over the wall along with Rudy. His eyes widen when the land on Simon. “Simon…” He shoves Soap aside who's left flabbergasted and makes a beeline towards Simon, not hesitating to hug the man and sniffling against his shoulder. “You dumb bastard, why didn’t you answer? I thought you were dead!” He was mad at Simon for making him worry.

Simon smiles under his mask and warps his own arms around Y/n, relieved to see him too. “We got caught up trying to get here.” He responds back, pulling away and cup his cheeks and cleans his tears away unaware of the audience.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?” Soap finally decides to speak up by this shocking discovery.

It wasn’t until after they rescued Alejandro that Y/n tells his team about his and Simons relationship when regrouping. He expected Soap to be shocked by the news while Gaz and Price technically already knew about the relationship but never said anything about it until further confirmed. Y/n couldn’t be happier to have them.

“So what do we do about Graves?”

Everyone turns to look at Y/n waiting for him to make the final call only for Y/n to surprise everyone by his response.

“Do whatever you want.”

He lets Price take the lead on this one, coming up with plans to get rid of Graves and his men after what he did to them. Y/n remains at the safe house along with the others, guiding them through the coms where he was safer and giving out clear orders on Graves location when they all went back to base.

The entire day was hectic, taking down Graves and Hassan on the same day and recovering the last missile gaining a victory. Everyone was finally able to relax and head back home to rest before being called out to another mission. Things were fine until they weren’t.

After a year since their last mission, Y/n had spent most of his time at base, helping out with the simple things and helping Price out as always. Until he received anonymous messages through his private number the only one who knew his number was Simon along with Price and the others and no one else. He received the text the day that Simon went out with the others for a drink, staying back home to relax for a bit until eh got that message.

He was about to ignore it until private information about him and his entire team was sent to him, threatening him to listen or else his friends faced the consequences. Y/n would have taken action to find out who was messaging him and take them down quickly only to realize that this person knew far more than anyone about him and Simon. He was forced to keep these message hidden from Simon if he wanted to prevent a lose.

Y/n knew that Simon was smart and would slowly grow suspicious by his constant phone checking and the amount of times that he’d flinch out of fear when receiving those messages. Simon wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, especially with his lover but the amount of time that he kept his distance was slowly irritating him.

Simon was able to corner him in his office when back at base after finding out about Makarovs escape. “Somethings wrong.” He points out, getting Y/n’s attention as he leans back against the wall that he’s caged in. “Nothings wrong.” Y/n couldn’t allow Simon to know that was responsible for Makarovs escape at the prison.

“You’ve been distant and quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not this quiet.” Simon knew him well enough to see the smallest changes.

Y/n’s anxiety grows by the second as Simon looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m worried about Makarov.” He blurts out, trying to throw Simon off from his real worry. “The most dangerous man escaped and we can be facing something far bigger and I’m worried on what we have planned.” He continues on, noticing how Simon finally relaxes when getting an answer even though it wasn’t the truth.

“Will get him and stop him before anything else happens.”

“And if we can’t?” Y/n wants to tell Simon the truth, but he can’t risk losing him. “We will.” He feels his gloved fingers caress his cheek as a way of soothing his worries.

“Now lets figure out how to take down Makarov.”

Y/n spent the last hour listening to Price form out the plan, memorizing every little detail in order to report it back to Makarov. It took him some time to figure out that the man he’s been communicating with was none other than Makarov, threatening him and his friends for information about their plans to stopping him. As guilty as he felt doing this behind their backs, behind Simon’s back he had no choice but to do it.

After their meet up he’d find a way to communicate with the Russian man sending him everything he knew about their plans only to get a response back from with a notification of millions of dollars being transferred to his banking account. That pushes him over the edge, his anger getting to him as he throws his phone against the wall, smashing it into pieces as he groans in anger. He was doing this to save his friends not for money and yet Makarov goes and pushes all the right buttons.

Because of Makarov the transfer was shown under the list of information trading. When Simon and Soap were sent to interrogate Milena about Makarovs next location they were expecting themselves to find some answers only to come up with more questions when Y/n’s name shows up on the list.

Soap is the first to point it out to Simon when it shows up on the computer. The two refuse to believe that Y/n had been communicating with Makarov only for Milena to laugh at the two.

“Why do you think Makarov isn’t here? It’s all thanks to your little birdie on the inside.” Her own lips form a mischievous grin when Soap glanced over to Simon who remained quiet under his mask, clearly processing everything and denying the fact that his own lover would turn their backs on them. On him.

“You’re wrong.”

Milena raised a brow as she crossed her arms. “Am I?’ She questions. “He told Makarov that you were coming for him, told him about the plans and the bombings and now he knows about the stations.”

Simon stops himself from killing the women, not believing a word she’s saying only to think back to their previous failed missions. Every time they were close to getting Makarov he always escaped them clearly finding a way around the problem as if he knew about them. Simon left the island fuming, anger boiling inside of him as they flew back to Makarovs last destination a base hidden in the train station.

Soap can tell that Simon isn’t happy about the discovery of Y/n betraying them and working for Makarov. He knows not to ask about it since the man was already too upset to even talk about it and focused on their arrival. Simon communicated with Price and Gaz about the location and to meet them there.

Getting down to the station was chaos due to Makarovs soldiers trying to kill them resulting into him and his team getting separated and laving Simon on his own as he takes down as many soldiers as he can. From the corner of his eyes he spots Makarov getting through the station. “Makarov spotted.” He speaks through his coms, alerting the rest of his team.

“Take the shot!” He hears Price shout from the other end getting permission to kill Makarov.

Before Simon could take the shot he’s shoved to the side when the other side of the station explodes, ruble collapsing around him as he groans and leans back against a wall. His ears are ringing by how loud the explosive was and the amount of shouting he hears through his coms is ignored as he tries to get up, feeling pain shot up from his arm makes him wince, realizing that he’s injured. The place is merely collapsing and knows that he has to get out of the station before its to late.

As he gets up from the ground he hears a giant grown across from him, holding his gun up as his eyes land on one of Makarovs soldiers. He was to pissed off to care about their injures and cocks his gun only to stop when the soldier coughs harshly, reaching up to remove their own helmet and mask, revealing Y/n’s face.

Simon froze when his eyes land on him.

Y/n groans and placed a hand over his abdomen where he feels pain and turns to his side, trying to get up only to gasp when he hears the sound of a gun cocking, looking over his shoulder to face Simon.

The two are frozen in place unable to move by the realization in their faces. Y/n wants to speak up to defend himself from everything but knows that he can’t not after what he’s done. He slowly moves to stand, hand still on his abdomen as he keeps his eyes on Simon and a hand out in surrender.

“Simon…”

“Don’t.” Simons voice is harsh, hand tightening around his gun.

Y/n expects that tone as he shuts his own mouth. It wasn’t until rumbling is heard, the walls around them were about to collapse and they had to get out before it was to late for them. “The place is going to collapse we have to go.” Y/n tries to convince Simon to follow him out of the subway station if they didn’t want to get crushed.

“Simon.”

“Why?” Simon finally speaks up. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”

Y/n swallows nervously. “Look I can explain once we get out of here.” He takes a step forward to try and pry the gun from Simon only to freeze when Simon holds it up, keeping it pointed at him. Y/n knows that Simon won’t kill him if he wanted to he would have already.

“You were helping Makarov you helped him escape you helped him do all of this.” Simon nods at their surroundings the place was full of faint screams of panic from the citizens and the sound of his teammates voices were close by as they shouted for Simon. The place was falling apart all because of Makarov.

Y/n’s breath was picking up, grown into panic as he quickly tries to explain himself. “I didn’t know it was Makarov he was going to kill you—I didn’t have a choice—!”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

His breath hitched when hearing Simon’s words, unable to respond back as he opens and closes his mouth, words caught in his throat. He’s been helping Makarov since the beginning of everything and telling Simon wouldn’t change his mind about him.

Not matter what he says or what he tries it wouldn’t work. He’s broken the trust between them the trust that Simon gave him only to see it crumble away. Y/n takes a cautious step forward, ready to apologize for his mistakes only for the place to crumble, giving them both the time to escape. Only this time they don’t escape together.

#male reader #Simon Riley x male reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley #ghost x male reader #ghost #simon riley mw2 #ghost mw3 #hurt no comfort #angst

221 notes · View notes

iambecomeyourvillain · 1 year

Text

#i can't stop making polls help #all for the game #six of crows #shadow and bone #percy jackson #the folk of the air #the raven cycle #kaz brekker #victor vale #vicious #villains duology #cardan greenbriar #kevin day #nikolai lantsov #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #thomas cresswell #stalking jack the ripper #rowan whitethorn

408 notes · View notes

tagged-rabbit · 1 year

Text

King

Summary: König commits a... rather tremendous, act of love for you.

Word count: less than 500

Tags: @sandinthemachine @depressedacidtest

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood

A/N: i thought about this randomly and wanted to write it out. i hope this short little something something satisfies you until i get these longer fics out 💛. gender neutral reader :)

"König?"

König means King.

"Ohhh, König!"

And that...

"..."

"Yes?"

Is exactly what he is.

You laid back against the arm of the sofa, your body barely covered by a beautiful silk cloth. You peered across the large bedroom, taking in all of the cream and wine colored decorum. You breathed in the morning air wafting through the big open window. Your eyes stopped at the black suit, hunched over and shaking. "König..." The man turned back to face you, finally acknowledging your call. His eyes were wild, but seemed to calm the moment they found your face. He rose from the now unrecognizable body of your former lover. The splatters of blood complimented the room nicely, you thought. Your eyes eagerly shifted to the man sauntering towards you, fresh blood staining his skin and suit. You smile up at him as his body begins to tower over you, stopping less than a foot away from where you bask in the growing sunlight. His hair sparkled as if it were decorated by blood-colored gems. You drank in the sight.

"Thank you, my König.." you purr. "That man was a demon. A demon! But you, my dear... tut tut. Oh, you are an angel. My savior..." Your hand begins to trail up his torso, slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt. König shuddered under your touch, humming gratefully at the contact. You sit up and gently pat the seat next to you. "Come, sit down my love. You have done so well, you need to rest now."

He carefully sat down next to you, as if he were afraid he would crush the seat. His hands anxiously scratched and pulled at his clothes. He was a soldier, he should have been used to taking lives. However, this was different... He wasn't on the battlefield. This body that laid cold on the floor wasn't an enemy troop. They were someone König knew personally, someone he might have called a friend under different circumstances. This was a person he murdered by the request of the beautiful creature sat next to him. Your spouse. He killed your partner, guided by your careful planning, driven by all seven deadliest sins. As if Satan himself took over his body.

"Thank you, my King," you cooed. You climbed upon his lap, letting the silk fall off your body. König's shaky hands found your waist, his fingers digging into you. His knuckles were bloody and bruised. König awed at the way they contrasted with your beautiful, soft skin. He grinned, sharp canines glistening as his tongue swiped over his teeth. You cupped his face, your thumb gently tracing his scars.

"I love you, König."

He paused for a moment, taking in a breath. As he exhaled, his eyes went wild once more.

"I love you too, mausi."

609 notes · View notes

nyimasu · 1 year

Text

───── 𝑆𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇

tags! 🎐 nanami, choso x f!reader, 18+ content — cuckold setting, rough sex, delayed orgasm(s), degradation kink, nanami is possessive and obsessed with you — 1.6k

🦋 — ao3 link!

Fire dances in the back of his eyes. It burns his very core as he watches you, bent over the table, being possessed by another man.

No, not just any man, but Choso. Sweet, caring Choso, a friend of yours who happens to have a huge crush on you.

Nothing that can possibly compare to Nanami's utter obsession with you, however.

You'd been the one to talk him through it, the idea of having to share you with someone else already twisting his brain in its nasty warps. And yet, right when you were starting to fear he wouldn’t say anything about the matter, for he feels such ferocious feelings for you, the blonde suddenly had hauled you closer to take your lips in a scorching kiss.

‘Just to spice things up between us, baby.’ you repeated on his mouth, and Nanami caved completely.

Despite his immense jealousy, the blonde obliged with another kiss, this time on your forehead.

He gave you his heart and you yours, so how can Nanami deny you when you always look at him with stars-filled eyes and lips coated in the deadliest sugar? It is one he tastes for himself every day, but not tonight.

Oh, what is upsetting him the most right now is to see, hear, feel you crumble under the boy's touch, and he can't do anything else but watch.

The sight of your shaking body veiled in perspiration and your desperate moans roll over Nanami like a wave, over and over again until his own grunts, laced with wanton craving, reach you.

It is then that your eyes find your boyfriend's and down they go to his torso, feeding on the faint hint of warmth his body radiates.

His own sweat winks back at you — it licks every inch of his bare chest, toned and defined. It beams when Nanami adjusts his position on the couch; one arm resting to his side, the other inching closer and closer to his growing bulge.

Now his legs, still wrapped in slacks, are spread over the edge of the sofa and his fingers are around the outline of his hard cock, thumb playing with the roughness of the pants’ fabric. He quickly glances at you as if he's only waiting for you to just go and sit on his lap while your lower back disappears in his hands while you grind on h-

‟Seems like I ain't fucking you right if you keep staring at your boyfriend like that.”

It’s a tut in your ear, followed by a sharp thrust in your sopping pussy that makes you sob in the air. For your throat is Choso's tonight.

He wraps his fingers around it tighter to make you look up at him. When you do, you’re welcomed by his sardonic smile. Then the boy thrusts into you again, savouring the heat emanating from your body as it goes flush against his. His fingers’ grip tightens as he continues by saying, “Or you’re so much of a slut that one dick is not enough for you.

Go on.

Tell me I’m wrong.”

But you can’t, because Choso always seems to know how to find your spark, hose it down with kerosene and then blows on the indomable fire that is in your stomach. The only one who ever managed to go that far with you is Nanami, and the look in his eyes right now borders murder. His gaze is transfixed on you and Choso, yet the body language gives nothing away. It’s his slightly tilted head, his aura.

You tremble under his stare. He’s not feeling anything.

He’s feeling everything.

Your Nanami is on the brink of despair.

Slick juices of arousal escape you at the revelation, laced with Choso’s hips snapping against your ass harder, faster. He loves to have the upper hand for once, even if it was presented to him on a silver platter by your pleading eyes and Nanami’s silent agreement.

“Choso.” you whimper and try to turn your head towards him, but he’s so engrossed by the way your pussy is swallowing him whole that he doesn’t hear you over the lewd noises and you crack asunder, chest pressing on the table and hands flying to cover his still pressed on your hips.

Your eyes trail up to Nanami’s once more. Are you asking for his help, forgiveness or undivided attention? Probably all three, and he catches on pretty fast.

One moment he’s on the couch palming himself, and the next one is on his feet, quickly approaching you two perched on the table. Choso is fucking into you steadily, but the pace set is so rapid that the legs of the furniture start shaking and creaking.

“Choso.”

When the silkiness of his dark strands crash onto your back, meaning he heard you calling him, it’s almost too late for him to stop rutting and for you to brace yourself for the inevitable.

Yes, almost, because the one person who knows your body as well as you do is now a breadth away from the table, and you only get to feel his hand resting atop of your head before Nanami stoops towards Choso and states:

“Time to stop, boy.

You don’t want to violate the terms of our little agreement and anger me, now, do you?”

Suddenly alarmed by his tone, Choso starts pulling out of you delicately but you squirm in discomfort anyway. You’d grow tired of condoms the moment your boyfriend showed up, but it was a necessity tonight.

Now that you feel it bruise your walls as Choso steps back is maddening, but it doesn’t last long. Once the boy switches places with Nanami, the air stills in anticipation. Or you do.

You muse about what to say, and your choice falls on flattery.

“Hello, baby.” you turn around to stare shamelessly at his hungry eyes and heaving chest. Nanami hums in acknowledgment, hands exploring and savouring every inch of skin he can reach, but does and says nothing until Choso gets rid of the condom and steps out of the room, probably heading for the shower. Most importantly, he’s out of ear’s reach.

The moment you’re alone, he acts upon his most primal instinct.

The world spins around you and you yelp, only to giggle once the feeling of Nanami’s chest pressed against yours registers in your mind. Now sitting on the table with your hands in Nanami’s hair, you moan softly as his hands wrap around your inner thighs. You take the hint, and your ankles rest behind his lower back in a second.

Satisfied, Nanami kisses your neck and whispers, “Hello, beautiful. Looks like I had to take over before our mutual friend crossed the line.”

You furrow your eyebrows in guilt. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve never proposed this to you.”

“Why would you say that? It was fun.” his index brushes under your chin and you meet Nanami’s eyes.

“But now I want to feel you squeezing around my cock.” he hums these words on your neck and your eyes roll in the back of the head just at the thought of it.

Glad you’re still in the game, Nanami wastes no time.

He’s quick to discard his slacks and underwear, and you have no time to see what you know for sure to be such a pretty, veiny, girthy dick — because your boyfriend suddenly hauls you closer. You lean into him, claiming his lips while he buries himself into you.

“Ssh. I know, beautiful”, is what Nanami sighs in your neck as you tremble and sob in his arms, flooded by the sensation of his cock splitting you open to rearrange your twitchy insides. “Choso has done a good job at prepping you, I’ll give him credit.”

Your boyfriend interrupts himself the instant you yank at his hair. Startled, you realise what you’ve done and try to apologise.

He’s never been a fan of your sudden bursts of brattiness.

“Sorry, Nan-”

Out of nowhere, his hands are no longer on your thighs but up, right where your neglected nipples are. Rough pads play with them as you throw your head back — for real this time — and Nanami growls in your ear. His girth clogs your pussy and you feel it pulse as you squeeze him. He’s ready to destroy you, yet he must’ve liked being teased, for once.

You can’t indulge the thought at the moment. You’re too busy trying not to fall apart.

A fraction of your brain must’ve sensed Choso is back in the room, but when you try to take a look and see if he’s sitting or standing close to you both, Nanami doesn’t let it slide.

His cock rams into you by the time he cups your face with his other hand. You bounce on it, babbling sweet nothings for you’re practically gone by now. He’s hitting all your hot spots without even trying.

That’s the kind of confidence one has when it comes to knowing your partner.

His eyes skitter all over you, his lips leave wet kisses in the crook of your neck, his teeth mark the patch of skin and you just sigh, titter in delight.

But before going all in, Nanami has to set some boundaries.

“Did you really think you could fuck her the way you wanted to? No way.” he’s not looking directly at him, but Choso knows who Nanami is talking to. In fact, the blonde doesn’t even bother and just keeps going at it with you, prying your mouth open for him to slip his tongue in.

What a sight. It’s the first time Choso has seen you so eager, so ready to surrender to your desires.

For the first time tonight, Nanami raises his head to stare at Choso, and the smile on his lips is lethal.

“No one can have her like I do.

Am I right, beautiful?”

#voice of cassandra #jjk smut #jjk drabbles #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #choso x you #choso x reader #choso smut

287 notes · View notes

kidukami · 3 months

Text

☾┅ about me ┅ ☽

hi, call me mika! i'm 21+ and i go by they/them pronouns. i'm a se asian writer + aspiring literary translator based in the uk. this post is essentially a writeblr reintroduction as i am starting anew in the community with this blog, and i'm really excited to share my wips and connect with all you lovely writers out there! i'm also tag and/or interaction friendly (although my reply speed is... not the best especially for tag/ask games, but i'm trying!), so please don't be afraid to say hi ♡

☾┅ writing interests ┅ ☽

important note: my works may contain mature and potentially triggering topics. viewer discretion is advised.

╳ i'm mainly a prose fiction writer, although i may dabble in scriptwriting and poetry at times. ╳ genres: speculative fiction, historical fiction, thriller, literary fiction. ╳ themes: sociopolitical commentary, satire, dark comedy, angst/tragedy, tragicomedy, morally grey characters, queer romance. ╳ open to reading all genre and themes! you're more than welcome to reblog this with your wips or tag me in them, whether or not they feature any of the above. the above lists are not exhaustive because to this day i still don't know how my writing brain works. ╳ i take plenty of writing-related requests (beta/proofreading, critique, collabs, translation work, etc.)! please refer to my carrd for more info, or contact me directly for inquiries.

☾┅ main wips ┅ ☽

will o' the wisp :: adult sci-fi/thriller novel. ╳ award-winning talk show host and journalist noe crane is constantly treading a tightrope as he assumes his secret vigilante identity behind closed doors, but things get worse when his past comes back to haunt him. ╳ features: tragicomedy, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, complex relationships, modern setting, superpowers, conspiracies ╳ wip intro here!

the duña duology :: adult weird fiction duology. ╳ a troubled man in his 30s attempts to escape from his past and seeks refuge in a run-down inn, only to find himself caught up in a dangerous conspiracy against the world. ╳ features: adult (30+) characters, unlikeable protagonist, multiple universes, high concept, complex worldbuilding, retrofuturism, found family, conspiracies, aliens (?) wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

a history of the tenshima gang feud (working title) :: new adult sci-fi/romance novel. ╳ when a national museum tour guide somehow travels back to the city's deadliest era in history as one of its disgraced figures, he will soon find that his beloved city isn't what it claims itself to be. ╳ features: time travel, alternate future, fictional setting, criminal underworld, ensemble cast, sociopolitical commentary, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, love triangle, lovers to enemies, friends to lovers, mcd, tragedy wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

lilium carnage :: historical steampunk visual novel (collab with @nana7esque) ╳ four characters on two sides of the same coin. each of them are determined to deliver their own justice in the corrupted land of navona, even at the cost of their own lives, but little do they know that there will always be a bigger price to pay. ╳ features: alternate history, fictional setting, choice-based story, multiple endings, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, tragedy, enemies to lovers, complex chara dynamics wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

☾┅ side wips ┅ ☽

shelved wips, wip ideas i have yet to develop, etc.

╳ by the kiss of the sleeping night :: thriller/romance webtoon collab with @nana7esque ╳ retelling of the nyi roro kidul myth ╳ modern setting character-driven script with each characters being an allegory to the seven deadly sins

feel free to interact with this post especially if you're also a writeblr! ♡

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr intro #intro post #writing #writeblr community

81 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 11 months

Text

Foreigner's God Masterlist

PAIRING: Matt Murdock x OFC

AO3 — Spotify — #foreigner’s god

❝ Sometimes, the greatest power lies not in what we can control, but in what we can uncover within ourselves. In the depths of darkness, secrets await, and it is our choice to embrace them or let them consume us. Together, they embarked on a journey to unearth the truth, unaware that love, like a tempest, would shatter all their plans and rebuild their world anew. ❞

⤹ SUMMARY:

She was born with the ability to manipulate reality and the world around her. Hydra raised her and turned her into their deadliest weapon until the Avengers saved her and offered her a chance at a better life. A dark past often comes with secrets that demand to be uncovered. There might actually be more to it than meets the eye, a kind of power that’s been sleeping deep within her, waiting to be discovered. But how does one get over losing everything without losing themselves?

One reckless night on a rooftop, a bad decision leads the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen right into her arms, and he decides to tag along on her journey down the past.

As it turns out, Matt Murdock is a man unable to take no for an answer when he has set his mind to something, and once she decides to let him into her heart, all the plans she made for the future fall apart.

Or, in which a troubled Avenger forms an alliance with Daredevil to fight a common enemy and save their city, but they end up saving each other instead.

⤹ CONTENT WARNINGS:

SLOW BURN, Canon typical violence, ANGST, EVENTUAL SMUT, light BDSM, Oral sex, daddy kink, praise & pain kink, blood & cum play, Switch!Matt, toxic behavior, language, severe mental illness, PTSD, implied/referenced torture, substance abuse disorder, self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, Hydra, age gap, religious imagery and symbolism, eventual romance, some fluff, mutant powers, mentions of child molestation, near-death experiences, catholic guilt, NOT TONY STARK FRIENDLY (at least until chapter 40 or so), turning good characters into bad guys, not completely canon compliant

-> There will be chapter-specific warnings before each chapter because they tend to vary with each one!

⤹ AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone! I didn’t expect this to blow up the way it did, so I decided to edit the entire Masterlist and repost it while I continue editing the chapters on AO3 and here, too. Welcome to everyone who’s new here!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

I’m trying not to describe any specific physical traits like body shape, hair color, etc. (although I think I called her skin “pale” once or twice in reference to her lack of sun exposure) in any of the chapters. The character was assigned female at birth and also identifies as female with she/her pronouns, but other than that, I do not give her any traits other than her name – Eliza Bennett. Her looks are entirely up to your imagination! So you can view this as a reader insert or not, whatever you want. It’s up to you how you interpret this story.

-> Series takes place in early season 2 and continues from there on.

-> This work is 18+ ONLY!

[the asterisk (*) indicates explicit sexual content; (^) indicates the chapter has been edited to fit the new style]

— ACT ONE: HYDRA —

chapter one: I Did Something Bad (^)

chapter two: Raise A Little Hell (^)

chapter three: I Think He Knows (^)

chapter four: This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (^)

chapter five: Hold Me While You Wait (^)

chapter six: Ivy (^)

chapter seven: right where you left me (^)

chapter eight: doomsday (^)

chapter nine: Block Me Out (^)

chapter ten: 1 step forward, 3 steps back (^)

chapter eleven: New Invention (^)

chapter twelve: It’s Nice To Have A Friend (^)

chapter thirteen: Devil Town (^)

chapter fourteen: Family Line (^)

chapter fifteen: So it goes…* (^)

chapter sixteen: Do I Wanna Know?* (^)

chapter seventeen: Look Who’s Inside Again (^)

chapter eighteen: Anti-Hero (^)

chapter nineteen: You’re On Your Own Kid (^)

chapter twenty: Innocent* (^)

chapter twenty-one: Green, Green Dress*

chapter twenty-two: mirrorball*

chapter twenty-three: The Avengers (pt.1)

chapter twenty-four: The Avengers (pt.2)

chapter twenty-five: For Real This Time

chapter twenty-six: Black Out Days

chapter twenty-seven: Dear Reader

chapter twenty-eight: Look What You Made Me Do

chapter twenty-nine (Bonus Chapter): Haunted

chapter thirty: Hayloft II

chapter thirty-one: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

chapter thirty-two: Chasing Cars

chapter thirty-three: How To Save A Life

chapter thirty-four: Foreigner’s God(*)

chapter thirty-five: long story short*

chapter thirty-six: this is me trying*

chapter thirty-seven: New Romantics*

chapter thirty-eight: Lavender Haze*

chapter thirty-nine: As It Was*

chapter forty: Monster*

chapter forty-one: Daylight

— ACT TWO: PUNISHER —

chapter forty-two: I’ll Get The Coffee*

chapter forty-three: She Knows*

chapter forty-four: Cold As You

chapter forty-five: Bird Set Free

chapter forty-six: Human*

chapter forty-seven: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve (^)

chapter forty-eight: Bad Blood (^)

chapter forty-nine: Dark Paradise (^)

chapter fifty: Meet Me In The Hallway (^)

chapter fifty-one: Demons (^)

chapter fifty-two: Say You Won't Let Go (^)

chapter fifty-three: I Will Be Your Remedy (^)

chapter fifty-four: Dancing With The Devil (^)

chapter fifty-five: Why Am I Like This? (^)

69 notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 5 months

Note

*bursts through the door and skids across the floor, breathlessly*—YO HO HO MARY??!!

So I got an ask for vampire Mary and then someone else upped the ante and asked for pirate vampire Mary and really, who am I to resist that?? I'm really excited to get this finished (because I really want to share the banner and collage you made too xD).

Here is a little snippet I just wrote up (excuse any mistakes):

“Hey little starfish, what are you doing out so late?”

Your blood turned to ice water as the voice drifted up from behind you. This was exactly why you were supposed to stay safe in your room at home. Dealing with drunken sailors was easy but dealing with the man behind you was a different story. Although technically he wasn’t a man at all…

Captain Mary Goore was a vampire.

When you gained the courage to face the pirate you’d been warned about since you were a child you couldn’t help but let out a fearful gasp. They were dressed much like you’d expected. All black from the three point hat on their head to the large boots on their feet. You could see numerous weapons hanging from their belt: a flintlock pistol, a sword and at least a few daggers. Those weren’t the deadliest weapons the pirate captain had though and when you finally looked up at their face the fangs in their mouth glinted in the moonlight.

“Does daddy know you’re down here?” He grinned when you took a few steps back. “I bet he doesn’t, I bet he thinks you’re safely tucked into your fancy bed.”

“No! He does, he knows. He uh, sent me down here.” You flinched when the pirate laughed, a sharp sound that echoed against the alley walls. “The guards know I am too.”

“Oh no, not “the guards”. Whatever shall we do?” Before you could blink he was right in front of you, mere inches from your body. You could smell the ocean on him as well as something else, something metallic that made goosebumps break out on your skin. “You know what I think little starfish?”

“Wh-what?” You began to back up again but Mary matched you step by step until your back hit the wall. “Please, I-I won’t tell anyone I saw you.”

“I think that no one knows you're out here. Hmm? I think you maybe ventured a little too far from your daddy’s protection.” Mary leaned in close and took a deep breath, a deep groan leaving them when they exhaled. “Has anyone ever told you how delicious you smell?”

WIP Tag Game

#it's going to be more of a horror romance #at least that's the plan #with a cameo from copia and some ghouls #why not make a pirate universe honestly #i mean what else do i have to work on #mary goore fanfiction #mary x reader #mary goore x reader

35 notes · View notes

forever-fixating · 1 month

Text

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @piratefalls and @onthewaytosomewhere

Happy birthday to our favorite chaos bisexual baby boi, Alex! I am almost at the finished line for this chapter. I'm determined to post today, so stay tuned, folks. Wordy little bastard Alex has a lot to say and a lot of FEELS. ENJOY!

As they exited the cemetery, Henry turned to him and asked, “Would you indulge me one more cemetery tour?” Alex nodded, something in Henry’s eyes telling him this was important. They walked down the street until they found an appropriate place to cross. Henry led them up to the open gate that read Holt Cemetery. Compared to the grandeur of the place they just left, Holt looked rundown and neglected. The gravestones were worn and crooked, some lined with PVC pipe or broken mini-picket fences, and decorated with mementos from loved ones. He took Henry’s hand and squeezed it as they walked along the gravel drive. “Somewhere in here,” Henry said softly, “may lie the remains of four men, victims of a gay bar fire in 1973 called the Upstairs Lounge.” “May?” Henry’s jaw tightened. “Many older records were destroyed after Katrina. Some say the victims, one, possibly two, who have been identified, were buried here or in the Charity Hospital Cemetery nearby. Their bodies were so damaged, they were never identified or claimed. One man’s family, Ferris LeBlanc, didn’t even know he’d died in the fire until 2015. In total, thirty-two men died that night, the deadliest attack on a queer space until Pulse in Orlando.” “Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex hissed. “Was anyone ever charged?” Henry shook his head. “There was a suspect, a man who had been ejected about twenty minutes before the fire started, but it ultimately went nowhere. It was just a bunch of queers who had it coming, right?” “How did you learn about this?” “A documentary,” Henry replied. They paused, and Henry held their joined hands against his chest. “I have a vested interest in the history of our community because the mainstream media and so-called educators still seek to bury it.” Alex swallowed thickly as he scanned the cemetery. As the son of a Mexican immigrant, he knew all too well how hard the system fought to suppress those they deemed as “other.” It occurred to him that so much of the real history of this country hadn’t been taught to him in the classroom but through books, documentaries, and people like Henry. People determined not to let their history fade into obscurity. “I don’t mean to preach-” Alex stopped him. “No, you’re not. And you’re right. These men deserve to be remembered. Thank you for sharing this with me. I’ve only been for about a year, and I’ve still got so much more I need to learn.” “That’s the first step,” Henry smiled. “The worst thing you can do as a young queer person is live in willful ignorance because the people in power are counting on it. Pride Month is about so much more than celebrating who we are. It’s about remembering those who we’ve lost, who didn’t get the chance to live openly as we do now.” Alex felt a lump growing in his throat. He wrapped his arms around Henry and squeezed tight. Henry huffed a laugh but returned his embrace, murmuring, “I’d kiss you right now, but that would be grossly inappropriate, given our current location.” “Good call.”

There are so many bonding moments between A&H in this chapter, but this is one I'm proud of. As a queer person myself, Henry was channeling me as I too think it is beyond vital that queer people learn their history, the bad and the good. Celebrate Pride but remember the people who are no longer here. CMQ brought up the story of the Upstairs Lounge in One Last Stop, so I wanted to include it here as I feel it would be something important that Henry would want to share with Alex. I promise, this chapter is almost done and you guys are NOT ready for it! All aboard the hype train, choo chooooooo! See ya soon!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #rwrb movie #wip wednesday

12 notes · View notes

southernbluebellereader · 1 year

Text

Fun and Games

Keegan P. Russ x F! Reader (COD Ghosts) - PLATONIC

A/N: There's a tiktok that I saw a while back that's been stuck in my head ever since & every time I see Keegan anywhere I have to say it in a funky British accent and say "Kee-ghan" - click here for the tiktok. I wanted this to be longer but I didn't know what else to write lol but this is what I imagined the first time Keegan hears his name being pronounced like that lmao

@bloodonmyhands-1221 : lol I hope you enjoy this - not my best work but it'll have to do for now lmao

Master List

~~~

“Keegan.”

Nothing.

“Aye Keegs.”

Still nothing.

Y/N watched as the man before her took his gun apart to clean it. He could do it in two seconds with his eyes closed but he was meticulous. Slightly annoyed that he didn’t acknowledge her, she decided to put on her best British accent.

“Aye Kee-ghan, you hungry?”

There we go. Keegan P. Russ. A man of few words but probably one of the deadliest men on the field. His name is pronounced like that stopped him in his tracks and let’s just say that Y/N should be happy that his gun was taken apart at that moment. He gave her a stabbing stare.

Giggling, Y/N crossed her arms as she waited for an answer, unfazed by his stare, “Oh, so that got your attention? Now tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go grab you something.”

Silent still for a moment before he softened his eyes slightly and shook his head as he continued his work, a small smile forming, “Whatever you’re having.”

He appreciated Y/N for her skills in the field, and whatever she lacked in skill, she made up for in humor. Before she could fully turn around, he called out, “Don’t call me that ever again, L/N.”

Y/N snorted and waved at him as she walked away, “Whatever you say, Kee-ghan.”

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

TAG LIST

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81

#keegan russ #keegan #keegan p russ #cod #cod ghosts #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #call of duty mobile

138 notes · View notes

leftnotright · 3 months

Text

A TEXTBOOK EDUCATION

"This will be a skill-building experience. You've had it too easy. You've had your Family name to back you, and your Right Hand at your every call. It's time you learn to carry yourself, to build from the ground up." Dino Cavallone, the Cavallone Don, fresh out of high school.

Reborn, the deadliest hitman of the modern era, has a special kind of torture up his sleeve for his dear struggling student. Dino will have to see how well he handles alienation, isolation, and worst of all, class participation. “Now, go on, my useless student Dino. Let’s continue your education.” (Or: Reborn sends Dino to Australia. It goes better than he could have ever hoped.)

Parings: N/A Characters: Dino (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Vic Hunt (OC - Original Character), Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Romario (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Cavallone Famiglia, Enzo (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Original Characters Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, University, Pre-Canon, Financial Issues, Fluff And Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

CHAPTER 6: I'VE ALREADY HID THE BODY

Dino patted his face dry gingerly, looking every bit the drowned rat he felt like.

Hot water had all but reignited the powder the man had thrown at him, and as soon as Dino had stepped into what he had hoped to be a relaxing, warm shower, he had immediately regretted it. So, Dino had subjected himself to a speedrun of a freezing shower to get as much of the powder, old water and soil off of him.

The soil had been the hardest. It had been in every one of his sweaty nooks and crannies.

Dino had only dug a grave himself once before. He hoped he remembered all the steps.

Dino continued to pat his red, blotchy face as he slumped into some clothes and, finally, looked at the state of his dorm.

Powdery handprints, footsteps and drag marks covered the place. There was water on his papers and soaking both his textbooks and carpet, and so many things had been knocked over and pulled down in the fight. It was going to take forever to clean.

Dino sighed and looked at the clock, already 11PM. At least he didn’t have class tomorrow.

He moved to the coffee table and gently pulled at his papers. Thankfully, none of the Mafia-related ones were damp, but Dino was going to have to reprint that spreadsheet handed out at his last tutorial. He packed away the sensitive documents in their hidden cubbyhole.

Enzo plodded out from Dino’s bedroom, finally deciding to leave his sunlamp and sand bath.

“Some help you were,” Dino pouted.

Enzo peered up at him with beady eyes, then made a b-line for the water spill.

“Hey! Hey! No!” Dino shouted and scooped up the turtle who continued to wiggle his legs in his insatiable water-lust.

Then Dino froze and listened.

The crunch of boots against pavement and leaves. The rustle of fabric against skin. The jangle of metal. Laboured breaths and a sigh through clenched teeth. The knock of knuckles against a door.

Dino blinked. Knocking?

Carefully, Dino peered through the slits of his blinds and spotted the figure at his door. Their head snapped around.

“Dino! Show me the baby damn it!”

Dino sputtered. What was Vic doing here at 11PM!?

“Let me see the little babyman!” Vic whined again.

Dino didn’t know if it was his anxiety-induced people pleasing, or the fact that Dino all but had a death grip on the knowledge that Vic was his friend who liked Dino and his company, but before he could think, Dino’s mouth had happily said: “Of course!”

Then Dino choked and shouted, “No!”

But Vic had already marched through his door.

Dino looked at Vic, then at the state of his dorm, then back at the frightening still girl.

Slowly, Dino extended Enzo towards Vic and said in a small voice, “Do you want to hold the baby?”

Vic turned her head to look at Dino, and Dino saw the moment her temper snapped.

“What the fuck happened!?”

Dino’s face must have been worse than he thought, because the moment Vic laid eyes on him, she lost her head. Vic crossed the room in long, heavy strides and grabbed him by the head so she could see the chapped, red skin. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his nose was crusty and peeling, and Dino was still damp.

Vic looked upon Dino and the state of his dorm, and it all pieced together. Vic could hear that familiar rumble in her ears, and the pressure in her throat — but as she moved Dino’s head to see if there was any more damage to him, she saw a tear track down his cheek and Vic did everything she could to stomp down that anger.

The pressure eased, but that rumble remained, a constant background noise that made it hard for her to hear, to think. Vic gritted her teeth and bore it.

Her baby boy Dino had just been robbed, and possibly attacked! He had been alone and crying, for who knew how long — and of course this had to happen on a night when there were two house parties going on, so no one was aware of the world, or too piss drunk to care.

“Are you okay?” She asked, and let go of Dino’s head, circling around Dino and nudging at his body.

Dino flinched with a sharp hiss when Vic prodded his shoulder and he quickly spun around, “I’m fine! Promise! No lies!”

“Yes lies,” Vic snapped and poked him in the shoulder again, “How the fuck did you get hurt? Did they jump you? Where are they, I’m gonna beat their ass—”

“No, no, no,” Dino rambled and grabbed Vic by her arm to redirect her deeper into the dorm, kicking his door shut behind them. “Far away, they are far away now. They will not come back, I am sure.”

They paused as something crunched under Vic’s foot, and they both looked down to see shattered glass underneath her boots. Vic looked at Dino over her shoulder with eyes sharp enough to cut, and Dino continued to push her over to the dining table.

He thinned his lips when he saw the state of the back porch door, the way the hitman had entered.

“Your fucking deck door is smashed—”

“It can be replaced—”

“Dino!” Vic shouted, sounding appalled and she spun around to grab Dino back. “Why are you so calm about this!?”

“It is over,” Dino said slowly, and let her grip him by the forearms, her nails digging in and grip so tight she was shaking. “It is over.”

Vic was not calm at the moment, but Dino could see she was trying. Trying so hard to keep it together, but she was slipping constantly. Everything she saw was something to set off the tripwire in her brain — Dino knew that feeling well.

Then Vic stared at him, her nails still biting his skin, and she uttered, “You’re used to this.”

Dino winced but nodded and gave what he hoped was a comforting smile, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m used to this. It is not the first time.”

Vic swallowed hard and squeezed Dino’s arms again. She wasn’t satisfied. But her anger had gone quiet, a rolling boil just under her skin that she could keep a careful lid on.

“Okay, fine,” she said, taking slow, deep breaths through her teeth. Her voice was low, like she was trying not to wake what was left. “Fine. We’ll— for a few hours— we’ll act like this is fine.”

“For a few hours,” Dino agreed but didn’t pull away.

Vic puffed out a sigh, “But are you okay? Like, actually. Other than your shoulder, I mean.”

“Yes, I am well,” he assured, and she gave him a short look. “I promise.”

“...Okay. Okay, that’s good,” she relented, and then looked at the state of Dino’s dormhouse. “Fuck, they made a mess.”

“Yeah, it will take a while to clean up.”

Vic let go of Dino’s arms and rubbed her face, before she clapped her hands loudly.

“Let’s get cracking, then,” she said, and set into the mess.

Dino blinked at Vic, then put Enzo down and rushed to join her. He brought over a dustpan from under the sink and swept up the spilt pot soil as Vic picked up the shattered plastic terracotta bits with her gloves.

Dino looked over at Vic and took in what she was wearing: beige, steel-capped boots, jeans and a red polo shirt. She had a bulky carabiner clipped to her belt, cluttered with an arrangement of keys, glove clips and some kind of yellow tool with small blades.

“Where were you?” Dino asked, looking her over and Vic paused dropping those shards in the dustpan.

“Work,” she answered, “I do the closing shift on Friday.”

Dino blinked slowly, “Oh. That is all work items?”

Vic looked down at her carabiner and bounced in her squat to make it give a little jangle, “Yeah. Locker key, mover key, bat knife, mini measuring tape. Other ring is car and the dorm key though.”

“You came from work then?” Dino asked as he pulled over his kitchen bin to dump everything.

Vic stared at the limp, blackened succulent on the floor and tossed it in the trash as well. She rose from the floor with a groan and punched at her lower back as she moved over to the next mess.

“Yeah. Wanted to see Enzo. And you too, I guess, you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Dino said flatly, and heard Vic snicker as she inspected the handprints on the walls and floor. “But it is so late, why did you come now?”

Vic glanced at Dino before she shifted on the spot, and carefully touched the powder with her gloved finger, trying to see if it would wipe off easily.

“Had a bit of a shit shift, is all,” she said.

Vic moved to the dustpan and beat off any remaining soil, before she moved to the walls.

“I, uh, I will do that,” Dino insisted and dashed over to take the brush from her hands. He had felt what that powder was like, and he didn’t want Vic getting any of that in her eyes or lungs. “I do not know what the powder is.”

Vic’s frown returned with a vengeance and the grinding of teeth. She turned on her heel and opened the front door and every available window, channelling her temper into fighting with the stubborn bathroom windows.

Dino smiled at Vic as she started scooping up the back porch door’s glass while muttering under her breath. He pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth before he started brushing that capcaissum-like dust off the walls.

By the time they were done, it was well past midnight, and Dino had a lot of laundry to do come the morning after stripping his bed and couch of their covers. Vic had managed to use trash bags and a mini stapler to wrap Dino’s porch - deck - door and keep out the bugs.

Dino came inside from putting out the bins and locked the flyscreen door to the front, still airing out that powder. He stopped when he saw Vic standing in his, thankfully untouched, kitchen.

“They stole your food too!?”

She opened one cabinet after another, nary a scrap or packet in sight. All that was there were plates and haphazardly stacked pots. Dino blinked slowly, the clock blurry in the corner of his vision.

“I suppose?” He said, “I did not have much food. Cooking is not strong.”

Vic looked at him, “How much is not much.”

Dino thinned his lips. Vic continued to stare at him.

“...I did not have any stored there.”

“Dino,” she said shortly, then she pinched her brow and looked around, “Then where do you store your stuff?”

Dino moved to the fridge and opened it. Kebabs and various pastas from the student Ubar took up the top shelf, a jug of water and a half-drunk Pepsi in the door. There was nothing else.

Vic looked at him.

“I am one man,” he reasoned in response to that flat stare.

Vic thought about it for a moment, before nodding in her head in defeat, “Okay, fair.”

Then Vic went about looking at those cabinets again, all hauntingly empty. She seemed to count them, then count the five shelves in the fridge, with only one in use. Ample storage, far too much for ‘one man’ with little to no guests. Dino watched as she sized up the space, wondering what was going on.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Vic asked, looking over her shoulder.

“No,” Dino admitted slowly, “I have not had time.”

He had been too nervous to eat before the meeting, save that cookie Vic had given him, and too busy afterwards. His usual shop in the Ubar for a hot meal would be long closed by now — besides, Dino rarely had an appetite after handling a corpse.

Dino suddenly wondered if his lightheadedness was from that powder, or over 12 hours without a proper meal. He needed to eat soon.

“Proposal!” Vic announced and Dino snapped to attention just as a cup of cool water was shoved into his hands. “You lemme store my foodstuffs in your capacious cupboards, and I’ll help you learn to cook! Life skills, My Little Pony, life skills!”

“But, you have a kitchen in your dormhouse? Do you not use it?”

Vic’s smile twitched and became the baring of teeth.

“I would, but roommates,” she said, voice strained. “They kept using my stuff without asking, and they didn’t even replace it!” Vic took a large breath and crossed her arms, “I just keep everything in eskies now.”

Dino blinked. He remembered those three coolers stacked up on top of each other in the corner of Vic’s bedroom. Vic was hoarding her food in her room to protect it.

Dino sipped at his water and glanced at his storage. More than one man, one university student, could fill. Again, Dino’s anxious need to please reared its head. The idea of Vic, his friend, having to all but resource guard in her own dormhouse only fanned those flames. Dino fought it as best he could.

“Yeah!”

Which wasn’t much. At all. But he tried!

Then Dino remembered what was shoved into his underwear drawer, and what was coiled up in his back pocket. What was stored away in a cubby hole, what was cooling deep in the dirt outside. Mafia shit.

“But, uh, please be careful of my items,” he pressed, imagining the chaos of Vic finding any of his files.

“Of course,” Vic nodded, not an inch of humour or sarcasm in her tone. “Your dorm, your stuff. I won’t touch anything unless I have the go from you.”

Dino relaxed a bit.

“Anyway, gimme a sec and I’ll grab us some dinner. Be right back!” And Vic was out the door with the vicious jangle of her keys.

Dino resisted the urge to rub his face lest he irritate his still-red skin, and instead went about fitting the sheets back onto his bed so he had somewhere to sleep all of this off.

Dino sat on the floor of his living room, not willing to use the bare couch, especially with that suspicious stain that they had exposed. He gave a glance to the washing baskets full of laundry for tomorrow and tried not to think about how his lazy day was no longer looking any sort of lazy.

Enzo took that moment to appear, rounding the side of the couch and chomped Dino’s socked toes.

“Ouch!” Dino hissed and yanked his foot away. “Damn it Enzo!”

“Is that the baby I hear!?” Dino heard from outside and looked over to see Vic hauling two eskies down Dino’s path, dressed down into her usual garb.

Dino stood and let her in, the girl hoisting the eskies up over the step and into his living room.

“I’ve got butter chicken leftovers that need to be eaten soon and naan bread for a quick and dirty dinner,” she offered, taking off her shoe next to the door where Dino’s were.

“Okay,” Dino agreed and went about getting out the few plates he had, running them under the tap just in case.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d want me to stay out of?” Vic asked, crouched in front of Dino’s fridge.

Dino shrugged as he briefly tried to read the instructions of microwaved rice. He didn’t really use more than the top shelf by himself. Divvying up a fridge had never been a pressing matter.

Dino shrugged and put the rice in the microwave, punching in the numbers he saw on the packaging.

Vic hummed unsurely up at Dino, before she slipped a bottle of almond milk into the second bottom shelf. Dino stared at the bottle and remembered suddenly: Vic is lactose intolerant.

“Top two can be yours, and we can discuss the door shelves when you’re not ready to pass out.”

“How are you so alive?” Dino asked, still fighting the need to rub his eyes.

Or, well, as ‘alive’ as someone as lethargic as Vic could be. It hadn’t been quick, like coming down a steep slope, but Vic had returned to her lazy state as she stocked up Dino’s fridge.

“Night shift, baby,” Vic sang flat, and put her esky aside as she closed the fridge. “And I didn’t get broken into.”

Dino huffed and Vic gave a short laugh that had to all but crawl from her throat. Then she stopped, sniffed and snapped her head around, “How long did you put that in for?”

Dino looked over his shoulder and smelt melting plastic. Dino yelped and scrambled for the cancel button, the microwave door popped open and steam and white smoke came pouring out. Vic hacked and couched, and Dino slammed the door shut again.

Dino glanced at Vic. Vic looked at Dino.

Vic put the container of butter chicken into the fridge, middle shelf.

“Let’s just eat cereal tonight.”

A bowl of almost-chocolate milk sat in Dino’s lap as he and Vic watched videos of silly cats on her laptop, the girl herself munching through her share of Milo cereal. Enzo peaked up and over Vic’s thigh, happily cradled in the nest of her crossed legs.

“How’s your shoulder?” Vic asked out of the blue, and Dino glanced at her.

She looked drowsy, all but slumped against the baseboard of his couch. Her bowl tipped dangerously. Each breath she took was long and paced.

“It’s okay,” Dino said, moving his murky cereal soup around. “They did not hurt me. I did not even see them.”

Vic breathed out, long and slow. A cat fell into a bathtub. Another got scared by a piano. Vic ate a heaped spoonful.

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?”

Dino blinked, “Pardon?”

Vic watched a cat run headlong into a glass door.

“You had someone break in. People usually don’t wanna be alone after that, ya know?” she huffed, “I don’t particularly want to leave you alone, either. They might get cocky and come back.”

Dino looked at the dots of black dirt under his nails, the last remnants he couldn’t scrub out. He doubted they would be coming back.

Dino glanced at Vic. A civilian would be shaken by a break-in. Right. Already, this breach had put Vic on edge. Hypervigilance. She would be watching Dino, and everything around him. Dino had to act civilian.

“I would like that, yes,” Dino nodded gently, and Vic nodded back.

Then she tipped back the last of her almond milk and got to her feet, Enzo wheezing at the abandonment.

“I’ll go grab my nighties and shit then. Be right back.”

Dino watched Vic go, before he reached for his phone and texted Romario.

Dino Cav Vic is staying the night in my dormhouse.

Romario did not respond for at least ten minutes. Then Dino’s phone started to shake on the countertop as ‘Romario’ became ‘Romario (15)’ and ‘Zio Croix (7)’.

Dino paused rinsing the bowls and looked at his phone, wondering about the frenzy — and how Zio Croix was caught up in it. He put the bowls on the drying rack Vic had found deep in his cupboards, but before he could reach to address those texts, Vic was once again knocking on his screen door.

Dino let her in and was immediately faced with felt teeth.

Vic’s head peered from around the large, nearly life-sized, toy shark. She grinned with teeth, nearly the spitting image.

“Meet Nip,” she introduced, shaking that shark at Dino. “My cuddle shark.”

“...Hello Nip,” Dino uttered and made way as the girl shuffled into the dorm. “Why?”

“I need to hug something to fall asleep,” she said as she put down a tote bag against the side of Dino’s couch. “Hence: cuddle shark, Nip.” Vic looked around and said, “So uh, where do you want me to sleep?”

Dino paused and looked at the couch, stripped bare and with newly exposed, suspicious stains. He looked at the laundry basket, the only spare sheets in the dorm, and in danger of holding that powder residue.

“Did not think about it,” Dino said slowly.

He had towels, but he couldn’t ask Vic, his guest, to sleep on towels. All of the Cavallone would have his head!

“I will sleep in this room,” Dino offered, thinking of laying towels on the couch. “And you may have my bed.”

Vic tilted her head, “But you’re the one who needs the better sleep. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Please, my Family would kill me,” Dino nearly pleaded.

Vic let out a short bark of a laugh and hiked up her shark onto her shoulder. She looked down the hall into Dino’s bedroom and hummed before she turned to Dino and said, “Mate, you’ve got a queen size. We can share if you’re comfy?”

Dino stared at Vic, “You would like to share?”

Vic shrugged, “Up to you, I’m good for it though.”

Dino looked at his bed, then at the couch, then at Vic and her life-sized shark. Immediately, Dino was rushed with a nervous excitement. He felt his face split into a shaky smile and rocked on his heels, full of elated jitters.

“I am okay!” He agreed, “We can share, yes!”

Dino had taken a while to get used to the bed at the dormhouse. It wasn’t especially soft or hard, but it was different. He sorely missed his own pillow; this one made his neck hurt for the first few weeks.

So Dino understood as he watched Vic pull the slip off his spare pillow and replaced it with her own. She folded the slip up and laid it on the chair in the corner. Then she stood in front of Enzo’s suitcase, full of topsoil and sticks.

“They stole his fucking enclosure,” she whispered staring down at it and the way Enzo slowly rubbed himself into his sandpit.

Dino decided it was an investment in his personal safety to let her believe that.

She squatted down and gently petted Enzo’s shell with the soft utterance of ‘red-eared slider, my ass’ before she clambered up into the bed, Nip in arms. Dino fisted his sheets in his hands, sat on ‘his side’ of the bed, a clear divide down the middle.

Vic sat on her side, lamp the only light in the room.

Dino smiled at Vic, “I have never had a sleepover before.”

Dino could barely contain himself. Sure, it was under less-than-ideal circumstances, but Dino was having his first sleepover with his friend! He couldn’t wait to tell Romario.

Vic blinked, “Me neither.”

All the movies Dino had seen showed people at sleepover playing games and consuming an array of foods — none of which he had on hand. Especially with his microwave out of commission until it stopped smelling of something toxic. He remembered his classmates back in Italy discussing sleepovers, well ‘rendezvous’ or ‘meetings’, as they called it at the time. Dino didn’t think Vic would much like it if their sleepover activity was an impromptu helicopter ride like the Tomaso Family did.

Dino tugged at his blankets a bit, “What do we want to do?”

Vic flopped back into the bed and bodily wrapped herself around her shark, pulling the duvet all the way up to her chin.

“Sleep,” she decided, and God that sounded utterly sublime.

Dino didn’t hesitate to curl up like a little comfort crustacean. His head hit the pillow and all those dopamine jitters were sapped straight from his bones for melatonin mugginess.

“Good idea,” Dino grumbled and Vic turned out the lights.

☁ ☁ ☁

“Hey Romario?” Dino asked as he held the phone to his ear, watching on as Vic stubbornly piled the straps of several hefty shopping bags onto her hands and waddled into his dorm. “Would you be able to send me some, uh, cooking stuff?”

“Cooking stuff,” Romario echoed slowly.

“Yeah,” he said, as Vic organised their food in the cupboards and fridge, following some sort of system Dino had no clue about. “Stuff that I’d need for cooking. Cooking stuff.”

“Very well, Boss. I’ll ask the chef to organise a basic package.”

“Perfect! Thanks a lot, Romario,” Dino said, before wheezing as Vic shoved a bag of flatbread in his chest.

“Come on, ponyboy, we’re making wraps for lunch,” Vic announced, waving the bag of roasted chicken. “No way we can mess this up.”

Later, Dino choked on a bone. Vic now knew the correct spelling for ‘heimlich’.

☁ ☁ ☁

Sunday morning, Vic sat on the couch, still smelling fresh from the laundry, and bodily wrapped around Nip as she watched Dino haul a box into the living room. He wheezed and heaved, dragging the box as it clanged and banged with whatever was inside.

“Doing good there buddy?” Vic asked, but made no move to help.

“Good,” Dino said, before his socked feet slipped out from under him and he fell on his ass. “Still good!”

Vic snorted and leant over the edge of the couch to rummage through her bag. She pulled out a box knife from her balled-up work apron and tossed it at Dino who was haplessly picking at the taped-up box.

Dino fumbled with the knife for a bit, before he managed to open the box. Vic peered over his shoulder.

“The hell is this?” She asked as Dino pulled out one smaller box after another, carefully packaged and wrapped in scrunched-up newspaper. She snagged a page and squinted; Italian. “This from home?”

“Yeah! I asked Romario to send some tools!”

“Ah, Romario,” Vic uttered. Her rival for custody of Dino.

Dino grinned at Vic, happy she knew so many of his Family by name. He really should have thought it dangerous, negligent even, that he was letting a civilian know so many of the pieces that made the Cavallone’s top level — but really, Dino reasoned, when would it come up again? Vic was going to be a teacher in Australia, after all.

Dino huffed as Vic batted at him with Nip to get him to hurry up and show her what he had been sent.

A pasta machine, made of black cast iron and polished wood, came out first. It was heavy and Dino wheezed as he tried to raise it up to show Vic. On the bottom, Dino could read VillaWare Manufacturing Co. 1908. The head chef had always found it a bit annoying that the first pasta maker had been built in Cleveland, USA of all places.

Dino gave it a testing crank. It was old, but it turned without so much a creak.

The next item Dino pulled wasn't exactly heavy but had a heft to it that made his fingers hurt as he clutched the edge. A circular slab of stone, flat as a tack and thick with little handles on either side; a pizza stone. Accompanied by a pizza paddle that Vic used as a rather dangerous choice of fan.

The last large piece was a large pan, at least a finger in depth. Dino had seen the chefs use this kind of pan to make sauces before.

Aside from that, the box was full of miscellaneous bits and bobs, some coming in multiples in a way that made Dino think they were important — did he really need that many wooden spoons? Why were they different shapes?

At the bottom, sat a few small folded paper packages. Dino reached in and read that familiar handwriting on the backs: basil, rosemary, thyme, oregano. Seeds, sent from home.

“You got a letter,” Vic hummed from over Dino’s shoulder and he jumped to attention and saw an envelope wedged beneath the folds of the box. “What’s it say?”

Dino leant back into the couch as he read Romario’s clean and precise handwriting, always a stickler for clarity and precision, down to the penmanship.

“Instructions to look after the pasta machine,” he said, before getting to the bottom of the letter. “They are going to send more later. A, uh, ‘care package’?”

“More!?” Vic asked, looking at what was already spread across the coffee table, stacked on top of each other and nearly toppling off the edge.

“Yeah, my Family tends to over-give sometimes,” Dino chuckled, still trying to figure out why there was a random, gritty block packaged with the knives. “A lot of us live in one household under the head, so we use quite a bit.”

Vic blinked, “You all live in one big house?”

“Yes! After induction, you are to live in the house until deemed ready!”

Dino's smile froze. Vic stared at him with a particular look on her face that somehow told Dino that something he had said was not a social norm.

“What?” Vic uttered, and squinted even as her eyebrows shot up.

Dino wheezed and started waving his hands frantically, “I, uh, mean — the new members of the Family come to live in the house! It is safe there and tradition and uh— Please do not focus on it—!”

Vic lurched to sit up on the couch, Nip the shark all but flung across the living room as she gaped at Dino’s spluttering self.

He fucked up!

“Wait, are you in a cult?”

Oh, he fucked up!

“Dino? Are you? In a cult?” she pressed, both fascinated and concerned. “Like, you can tell me, I won’t judge. My uncle believes that a secret race of people called the ‘True Earthlings’ run the world.”

“No, I’m not in a cul— your uncle believes what?” Dino squinted. “How? Why does he think that?”

“Beats me,” Vic shrugged as she crossed her legs, feet pressed flat against one another. “But he talks about it at pretty much every family gathering. We usually change the topic.” Then she rocked forward on the couch and loomed over Dino. “But you. Cult?”

“No,” Dino stressed, “We are not a cult. We are a Family.”

“Sounds like a cult, not gonna lie,” Vic muttered, scratching at the piercing hole in her ear.

“Not a cult!”

“Okay, okay,” Vic laughed and backed off. “But fuck mate, that must be a big house you’ve got.”

Dino smiled, remembering those long halls and polished floors, perfecting the sliding on socks and being dragged on blankets. “Yes, enough room for everyone.”

Vic huffed and groaned as she got to her feet.

“Okay, let’s get that machine cranking! Pasta time!” She paused and looked down at Dino. “You know how to make pasta noodles right? You’re Italian.”

“Did you remember to park your koala?” Dino shot back. “And I’m Sicilian.”

Vic stuck her tongue out at Dino and flipped him off, “The stereotype is ‘kangaroo’, you Sicilian piece of shit. Now get up, we’re gonna Youtube it.”

Vic was glad they had started preparing their dinner early, as the next half an hour resulted in a rather frantic back and forth of more egg yolk, more flour, more egg, more flour, more egg, more flour, more—

“I don’t think we can eat all of this,” Dino murmured as the two looked down at the ball of rested dough the size of a small toddler.

“Speak for yourself, coward,” Vic huffed and grabbed handfuls.

True to her words, Vic ate her whole serving of five large bowls. Dino had to rub her belly as she laid on the couch in pasta-ey regret.

At least, now Dino had plenty of pasta in the fridge. He would be eating it for a while.

☁ ☁ ☁

Dino laid on his couch, a sheet of paper draped across his face. Enzo gently gnawed on his shin through his pyjama pants.

He was bored. And lonely.

Semester break had set in. Dino had meant to go home over the mid-year break, spend the semester's end on Sicilian soil. Instead, when Winter crawled into the southern hemisphere and Dino had reached for the plane tickets home—

“I’m sorry Boss, Reborn’s instructions were clear. You can’t come back this time, not yet.”

Dino had damn near broken into tears.

Instead, after much bed-rotting, Dino had thrown himself into the familiar stress of number crunching, creating pages of cramped value tables and highlighted budget summaries. On the floor sat a bin full of tear-soggy tissues.

Vic had gone upstate to New Castle for the mid-year break, but Dino hadn’t had the time to miss her company as she made sure to text her ‘poor, lonesome boy’ at least once a day. Dino’s phone was full of photos of ‘blobfish babies’ and some kind of mixed mutt that looked like it could win a bullfight called Pepper. Or, as Vic liked to call her: ‘Pepe my sweet little girl, so beautiful!’

Dino did have to admit, her baby cousin, Ant, did look a bit like a blobfish. A cute one. A cute blobfish.

He still wished she was here, though. Dino had never liked the quiet, it never brought good things. For Dino, a quiet house was a house in mourning.

Dino tried to play some old Italian music to help the homesickness. He found he couldn’t stand it without the sound of Romario snoring in his armchair, or Brutus heckling at the football.

Dino crossed his arms over his eyes, the sheet wrinkled under the weight.

“I wanna go home, Enzo,” he murmured, muffled.

Enzo made another bite at his shin.

“I wanna see Vic.”

☁ ☁ ☁

It had been months since Dino had struck a deal with the rest of the Cavallone: Bet everything on one last race. Bet everything on the Cavallone horses.

And yet, he had made minimal progress.

The search for jockeys had been difficult, he hadn’t even known where to start. But as he paged through the list of names and backgrounds Romario had sent, Dino could see his options wearing thin.

There were jockeys, young upstarts and disgraced retirees. But Dino needed a specific brand of person.

He didn’t have the money to pay them lavishly, nor buy their silence, so he needed someone low budget, low maintenance. Young, maybe. Inexperienced and unaware of their worth. Skilled enough to handle a horse of Cavallone’s breeding. Loyalty easily fostered. They couldn’t ask questions. And they couldn’t be Mafia.

One jockey per horse.

The Stable Master had given him seven horses to work with, Madam Celeste, Buttercup Pop, Today Junior, Red Riding, Bottle Top, the best of the Cavallone’s renowned Snortle line and, of course, Glory herself.

One jockey per horse. Dino needed to find at least seven jockeys. And then he had to pray that the horses accepted their riders.

Dino grimaced at the concept of trying to introduce a jockey to Glory. He made a note to have a medic on scene.

Dino sighed and dropped his head onto the dining table, articles and handwritten notes of half thoughts stacked high enough to cushion his dismay. Dino was tired.

Enzo bit his little toe through his sock. Dino screeched. He shot up with a gasp — he saw Vic pressed against the window.

“Show me the boy.”

Dino screeched. He fell off his chair into the sweet embrace of his cold, tile floor.

“Careful! You could have hurt Enzo!” Vic scolded as she banged on the window.

Dino gaped at her from the floor, offended.

“What!? No sympathy for Dino!?”

“Shut up and let me in! I’m freezing my tits off!”

Dino resisted rolling his eyes as he heaved himself up off the ground. It was only 17 degrees, barely coat weather, but Vic was whining like she was up on Etna. Dino opened his door and Vic came barreling past, honed on his couch.

Dino laughed when he saw the mass of blankets on the couch, each one brought by Vic every time she couldn’t resist the knick-knackery of Kmart. Two grumpy eyes peered out, and the tell-tale sound of Enzo’s disgruntled wheeze.

“You’re back?” Dino smiled as he came and sat by Vic’s head, those eyes glaring up at him.

“Nah, I’m astral projecting — yes I’m back!” Vic huffed and Dino grinned.

He leant over and threw his arms around the mass that was Vic bundled within her blankets, squeezing tight even when the girl gave a wheeze. One of Vic’s hands wriggled its way out of the hold and gently patted Dino’s shoulder with an obligatory “there, there.”

“You were away for so long,” Dino grumbled.

Vic huffed, “I was gone for three weeks.”

“Three weeks much too long!” He whined and Vic let out a laugh that jostled both of them.

Dino let out an indignant sound as he slumped into Vic and felt the twang in his back and the ache in his eyes. He had been looking at documents for so long, done so much close-up work, that he could barely make out the clock face on the wall.

“You look like shit,” Vic grumbled from within her blanket mount.

Dino smiled weakly and rubbed his nape. He felt like shit too. A bit sweaty. Cooped up.

But he had work to do. So many relied on this one last gamble.

Dino tried not to let the stress show. That stone in his stomach and pressure in his chest.

Vic stared at him.

“Dino?” She asked and sat up, Enzo slid down a blanket and tottered off into the distance. “Dino?”

‘What’s wrong?’ she wanted to ask, but as Vic looked at Dino, she couldn’t quite get the words out. Because she could see that whatever was festering under his skin, was far too large to unpack. It had too many layers. One lone issue didn’t make someone’s face that dark and pale.

“Do you…Do you want to call home? I can give you some space?” Vic offered gently. “Call your dad or something?”

Dino flinched. Hard.

Vic snapped her mouth shut.

Then her mind swarmed with memory, scanning every instance she had with Dino, every mention of his family, every giggle of his past. Not once had Dino mentioned his father. Or his mother.

Fuck. Vic had fucked up.

“Or—” she scrambled, nearly biting her tongue in the rush.

“He is, uh…passed,” Dino said, barely above a whisper.

Vic paused. She pulled the blankets around her tighter.

“Oh,” she uttered.

“Last February,” he continued, his hands plucked at the edge of the blanket, pulling the loose tassels. “He got hurt. He didn’t get better.”

“Oh,” Vic whispered. That was recent. “You’re…mum?”

She looked at him carefully. Dino’s nose had started to blush, his fingers worked to untangle stylised knots in the blanket. His voice croaked.

“I was seven,” Dino whispered, and that was all Vic needed to know.

“Dino,” Vic murmured, and Dino shrugged.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Dino, your dad was last year,” Vic said, not at all convinced. Maybe Dino had come to peace with his mother’s passing, but his fathers? She didn’t think he was ‘okay’ as he said he was.

“I am busy. There’s much to do. The Family needs me now that I am in charge.”

Vic held her breath for a moment until she was sure she could let it out without a sound. Her Dino was in charge? Of a whole family? Her Dino, who choked on rice, who cut his lip on his toothbrush, who tripped on shoelaces. Had been put in charge of a whole family — an extensive one if ‘induction’ meant anything (not a cult, totally not a cult unless it is).

“When did you take over?” Vic asked and closed her eyes, bracing for the worst.

“...Last February,” Dino uttered.

He had taken the reigns out of cold hands. No time to mourn.

Vic felt her heart lurch in her chest, and a rumble in her ears. Anger and indignity yanked at her naval as she looked at the papers on the dining table, laptop open, fan spinning fast to cool down after days of almost non-stop use. Her Dino was doing all this. Practically alone, so far from home. And he hadn’t even had the time to properly mourn.

Vic turned her gaze onto Dino.

“Last February,” she echoed out to him. “Fifteen months.”

Dino smiled at Vic, full of teeth and wrinkled eyes. Eyes that started to swim as she stared at him. Brown eyes going blurry until one, then two, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Dino sniffed, loud and full of snot.

Vic pulled her feet up onto the couch, leant back against the armrest and opened her arms to Dino. Dino’s face pinched, his breath shook, and slowly, Dino crawled until he laid himself on her chest.

Vic lifted her chin to breathe around his hair and felt her shirt go soggy as Dino hiccuped and rattled.

Vic liked to think she knew Dino well. At times like this, though, Vic was reminded that she knew very little.

Dino’s dad had died last year. His mother, long before that. And now he was here, alone, the rest of his family in another hemisphere. And there was that whole issue of finances that she knew she wouldn’t ever fully understand the gravity of.

Arms wriggled under her back and Vic felt Dino clutch at her like a lifeline, his watch dug into her ribs and she felt snot, spit and tears smear along her collar.

“I miss him,” Dino wheezed. “I don’t want to be the Boss yet. There’s so much I could do wrong.”

Vic gritted her teeth and pulled the blankets over Dino, the weight pressing down on his back. She looked at the list sitting on Dino’s dining table. A criterion for employment. A jockey selection.

Dino needed jockeys. At least seven.

Vic scanned the criteria, doing her damnedest to burn every detail and refinement into her memory. Cheap, talented, foolish. She felt her stomach roll with heat and discomfort.

Someone to be taken advantage of.

Dino coughed between quiet sobs. His nails dug into her shirt, just short of her skin. Vic pushed her cheek into his hair and squeezed him back, just as tight.

Dino needed jockeys.

“It’ll be okay, Dino,” Vic murmured.

Dino needed jockeys. Dino needed help.

She couldn’t do much, had no idea where to even start. But she could at least look. For her ponyboy Dino.

#fanfiction #khr #leftnotright #ao3 #dino cavallone #katekyo hitman reborn #canon divergence

12 notes · View notes

allthecanadianpolitics · 1 year

Text

Five years ago, after a man deliberately drove a van down a busy Toronto sidewalk in one of Canada’s worst mass murders, the country was confronted with a previously obscure extremist movement, which experts say remains a growing threat.

The attacker, Alek Minassian, had claimed to be angered by women who wouldn’t sleep with him and inspired by“incels,” or involuntary celibates.

[...]

Arie Perliger, the director of security studies at the University of Massachusetts – Lowell, said law enforcement agencies now see incels and groups with misogynist ideology as a rising concern.

“The threat is growing,” he said. “It will continue to be a problem.”

Full article

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#cdnpoli #canadian politics #canadian news #canada #canadian #incels #incel ideology #misogyny #alek minassian #involuntary celibates

103 notes · View notes

hebuiltfive · 7 months

Text

Thundertober Day Five: Pilot

When I first saw this prompt, I immediately thought of something so very vastly different (including a frantic John having to solo pilot TB2 with an injured Virgil in the back), but then this idea came around...

AO3 here

Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four

Warnings for: Other than mild, brotherly threats that will never come to fruition, nothing this time! There are many ways to get revenge. For John, it’s making Scott sit through a pitch for a documentary about International Rescue. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)

John was a dead man.

Scott had dealt with various media opportunities over the years, the most recent of which was his feature on Brandon Berrenger’s stream a few times, though it had to be said that it wasn’t an opportunity taken out of choice. Scott had also declined various media opportunities, the most recent on that list being an interview whilst he gave the ‘audience’ a house tour of their New York Penthouse.

The point was that Scott had dealt with, declined and heard of many different opportunities over the years, but this one was really taking the biscuit.

He silently made a mental note to flat-out refuse any meetings created by any of his brothers in the near future, especially when one of his brothers was still on the lookout for revenge. He also made a quick note to remind himself that Gordon wasn’t the deadliest when it came to returning a prank.

For now, Scott sat in his seat trying to not look as bored as he felt. He’d spent the last ten minutes zoned out. If there was a quiz at the end of the session, he would have certainly failed. Thank God this wasn’t school.

The meeting was only supposed to run for half-an-hour, yet it had already felt like an age and the two men presenting to him had no indication of stopping anytime soon.

He took a glance down at his empty mug of coffee, wrapping his hands around the now-cold, blue ceramic. As the lead presenter — Fabian — flicked to a new slide, Scott considered how rude it would have been to just up-and-leave midway through the pitch to get himself a fresh mug.

“— and we’ve seen revenue like this for many of our works before. If we implement the same strategy, especially with the marketing, I think we could hit, or maybe even surpass, the numbers from—”

Having zoned out for the majority of the last section, Scott squinted at the numbers shown in front of him, confused about where in the presentation they were currently at. Numbers being viewership numbers… there was a graph showing variables… another graph showing potential profits…

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Scott interrupted unapologetically. His fingers rubbed at his eyes, ignoring the dull thumping at the back of his head. Forget coffee, he needed something stronger.

“You…?” The other presenter — Lewis — began with a hint of uncertainty. “You’ve heard enough?”

“Yes.”

“But… We haven’t even got onto ideas for a schedule or—”

“Gentlemen,” Scott stood as he interrupted Fabian once again, “I am truly grateful for your interest and your offer but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

The two men in front of him exchanged a bewildered expression. Scott allowed them their silent communication, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket as he fastened it.

In the end, it was Fabian who turned to him, an edge of desperation in his eyes. “Mr. Tracy, we appreciate your time is limited, but if you just let us get to our ideas, maybe we might be able to change your mind?”

Scott tried not to laugh at that suggestion because the truth was that Scott’s mind had already been set the moment he’d first heard about their proposal: a documentary series following International Rescue on their “explosive and heroic” antics. Granted, they weren’t the first production company to offer the family a similar deal, but each time the other companies had been shot down before they had even reached a pitching stage. The only reason these two had got through the door, to try and talk about their ideas for a pilot episode, was because of John.

Scott was considering disowning him after this little tirade. All Scott had done was accidentally share John’s baby photos with a certain fellow astronaut who had caught his brother's eye (and yes, he would stand by the fact it was accidental. Absolutely. One hundred percent, it was totally not on purpose!). Regardless of that, this kind of revenge was unlawful in the rules of brotherly warfare, or at least Scott would so claim.

“I don’t think my mind will change, Fabian.”

The initial idea alone was, for want of a better word, stupid. Lewis had assured him that they’d stage IR’s base somewhere on the US mainland so their real base wouldn’t be traced, that they wouldn’t mention or use any sensitive information that could breach any protocols, but Scott still detested the idea. For a start, International Rescue were not celebrities… Well, technically they were as private individuals, he guessed, but the figures of IR weren’t. Their organisation was created to help people, not to reap the glory. Filming this documentary (if it could even be called that, given the words and ideas thrown around so far) would go against everything International Rescue stood for.

Fabian would not let up, however. “We can skip through all the boring… Let us just show you our plans, just for the pilot?”

Perhaps it was the desperation in the producer’s voice, or maybe it was because Scott was a tiny bit curious as to the ideas these men had for an International Rescue ‘documentary’, but Scott found himself relenting.

He quickly undid his suit button again, sitting back in his seat with a wave of his hand. “You have five minutes, and then this meeting is over.”

Fabian looked relieved, as though he really did think he could change Scott’s mind in such a short amount of time. Scott allowed the delusion, reclining back in the seat as Lewis flicked the slides forward. They landed on the first one, titled Pilot.

“Okay, so. We’ve got to come at them with a bang, right? Everyone knows International Rescue, everyone loves you, but we need to get something that will make them stick with the rest of the show.” Fabian continued his spiel, using over-dramatic hand gestures as though they would further hammer his point home. If the tactic worked on other people, it certainly didn’t on Scott.

Scott tried his hardest to not zone out again.

Lewis took over the pitch. “So, we were thinking, what is the biggest, most exciting way we could open the show, and then it hit us!”

The screen changed to a drawing from a storyboard depicting an oil rig explosion.

Scott sat bolt upright in his seat. “What? You want to stage an oil rig explosion?”

“It wouldn’t be a real one.” Fabian tried to reassure him, hesitant as he was, as though he had realised (a lot faster than his co-presenter) that Scott did not look impressed. Fabian looked, in fact, as though he was second guessing the benefits of asking Scott to give their presentation a second chance.

“We haven’t even shown you the best part!” Before he could be stopped, Lewis continued to the next slide.

Scott’s face paled.

Staring back at him from the screen was a picture of the Hood being led away from a burned out building by GDF personnel. It looked to be taken from a newspaper clipping.

“Him?” Scott attempted to keep a lid on his temper. He failed. “You want to get him involved in this?”

Lewis was clearly the one who lacked brain cells in the duo, as he continued confidently with a wide smile and a nod. “We’re hoping we can strike a deal with him. You know, don’t kill us all and we’ll hand you a hefty pay check? We heard he’s a business man, so—”

Scott didn’t say anything as he stood up and left the meeting room. He definitely didn’t feel like he owed them any more words, let alone an explanation, given what was just proposed. If it hadn’t already been, the answer to whether he would give them the green light would be a resounding no.

He ignored Fabian as he left the room, despite the producers incessant calling after him, and allowed security to deal with escorting the two men from the building. Forget the coffee, forget the something stronger. Scott wanted to douse his eyeballs and wipe the last five minutes from his mind because those men couldn’t have been seriously considering making a deal with The Hood to make a ‘documentary’ series about them?

Plenty of emails pinged through to him throughout the rest of the day, which Scott had assumed would be the case.

Mr. Tracy, please forgive us if—

If you take a look at the attachment, you’ll see various different ideas of—

Call us and we can discuss this further—

Don’t miss out on an opportunity just because—

It was never ending. He ignored every single one of them, forwarding them instead to John with a note to say:

Next time you want revenge, please just add a red shirt to my light coloured laundry or something. Don’t send me to a meeting about some dodgy pilot episode of a stupid documentary some random production company want to make.

#thundertober 2023 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #thunderbirds are go #five fics

29 notes · View notes