#Anxious british man

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[bunnys-kisses]

you had how many kids? (141 + more)

long post - sorry!

captain john price -

the first time price sank his cock into you. it was game over. you are probably going to end up with at least six kids running around a big piece of land in the center of the british isle. equal split between three girls and three boys. the price genes must be strong because they all look like spitting images of their father.

price loves his wife though, he just thinks you're the sweetest thing since honey. after you put the kids to bed and you're in your bedroom, your darling husband can't help but hold onto you by the hips and maybe rub up against you. your softness, so motherly. it almost makes his mouth water. he tries to convince you for baby number seven but you just tell him that there's no way that's happening. but price is a cunning man and maybe a few mind blowing orgasms will change your mind.

simon 'ghost' riley -

your daughter was an accident. it was simon's last night at home before he got deployed again. and he spent that entire night sunk into your sweet cunt. you'd find out a month into his deployment that you were pregnant. worried about telling him, you kept it to yourself. you were anxious about the news throwing him off his game and him getting hurt. he needed to come home alive.

when he came home, he made sure he treated his missus right. while the pregnancy was a bit of a shock, he made sure he made up for lost time. and while that often had you on your back. it almost meant being spoiled by your husband. your daughter was close to being the biggest the hospital had delivered. you two would be content with your daughter, who took mostly after you. but within five years she would be going around proclaiming that she was going to be a big sister!

john 'soap' mactavish -

oh johnny was a smart man. he knew what he wanted and he got it with ease. he wanted to take you back home, settle you down in a night place in edinburgh. he was thinking in the stockbridge neighbourhood, where you and him could raise your kids in peace. the first time he held you in a mating press he knew that he wanted to be the father to your (many) children. he'd take care of ya, never let the mother of his children be without. he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, a seal of his promise. you end up with two boys, only eleven months apart (the look you got from your doctor when she found out you were pregnant so soon). they were mactavish boys that was for sure. their father's dark hair and he winning smile.

johnny does want a daughter however, he imagined she'd be a spitting image of you. while he loved his boys, there was no question about that, he thought a daughter would complete your little family. curious eyes like yours, that beautiful smile. as he kissed your neck and dug his fingers into your soft hips. maybe he could convince you in a few years to try for one.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

kyle never thought that he would've ever been a father. when he signed up for service, he didn't expect to be done with that role well beyond when it would be suitable to be a father. so your son was an accident. he could almost pinpoint the night of his conception. he was home from abroad and the two of you spent the entire night (and the following morning) becoming requited with your bodies. you giggled when he showed off his more toned muscles and his fingers got tangled in your hair. his dark eyes felt familiar, like home, under the soft light of your bedroom. The resulting time together produced his son.

you don't end up with a big family, while you two live in a decently sized home just outside the city he is content with it just being the three of you. he'd rather be the best parent to one then worse off to more. he was a good father to his son, proud of the little baby. even when he woke you both up at all hours of the night. it was life and kyle was happy. but when your son turned five, you had something to share with kyle. you were pregnant again. he had to admit, after that, the idea of having a few more kids wasn't a bad idea.

bonus! bonus! bonus!

phillip graves -

oh phillip wants a full house. he didn't buy that nice piece of land outside of houston for show. big yard, white picket fence, in a safe neighourhood (can't have you getting hurt!). he'd be living out his all american dream. so when you ended up pregnant five months after marriage with twins, he was beyond happy. he thought your pregnant body was beautiful, even well into your second trimester he was fucking that sweet cunt of yours. telling you how good of a mama you were.

phillip thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. even when the aches and pains of pregnancy come and go, he'd making sure that his wife is good. if he can't be around, he sends his shadows to make sure that you and the kiddos are alright. so expect a big, loving all american family. you'd never thought you'd be spending your twenties caring for almost five kids!

col. alejandro vargas -

alejandro wants you safe. and you being pregnant can cause some issues. it makes you a target, so you packed up your life and headed somewhere more quiet. most information about you was redacted from public and private records. he even went as far as to change your name and identification. it was for you, for him and for the daughter you eventually had. but despite that, when alejandro returned home. he was the shadow to your daughter. she knew who her daddy was. eventually when he can get out of the snare of the military, he was home. your little place in the middle of nowhere, he promised to protect you and your little bundle.

the times he visited while you were pregnant though. he loved to run his hands up and down your swollen middle. he smiled at you, almost proud of what he did to you. while you'd in the end have only your daughter, it was a complete home. and don't worry, after your daughter's birth he is more than willing to show how much he loved his sweet wife.

rodolfo "rudy" parra -

oh rudy, sweet rudy. he couldn't help himself. the first time you fucked, or rather made love, he knew he wanted to breed that pussy of yours. he was using a condom, but he could picture himself doing it bare backed. the feeling of your slippery cunt tight around him. nothing protecting you from accidents. he'd often daydream on his off time about the three kids you had. he had even picked names out for them, but he'd get your input on it as well. after all you were the beautiful woman who was carrying them. such a good wife to him.

he left the military when you got pregnant, as did you. life became less about the violent conflicts and more about raising your son. he was a quiet baby, and rudy adored him. he also adored his beautiful wife who worked so hard to give him his son. he reminded you of that often. you do end up with those three kids within a five year gap and rudy couldn't be happier.

könig-

oh, könig. he knew that you'd be carrying a big baby. like look at him, he towered over you and could easily bench you in your third trimester. so he wasn't expecting a whole army of children. one very large boy was enough for him. the 99th percentile. but he was there the entire time, he made sure that you were taken care of. he felt safe having his larger body up against yours, protecting it. he'd rub your belly with his large hand. even if you were very pregnant, you still were small compared to him.

he loves his son, obviously. the first time he held him, he almost cried. he was a father now. he had a wife and a child, a home to call his home and a place to feel safe. he was an attentive father, he was used to being up early. so you got to sleep in while he checked in on your son. he made sure to teach him german, english and a few of the other languages he had picked up. he was going to make sure his son knew all about the world. he was a proud father!

[chuthulhu-plays]

I generally watch LPs of horror games bc I'm too anxious to actually play them but a lot of them have FANTASTIC stories, so sometimes I just binge-watch KrinxTV for background noise. Been watching a lot of playthroughs of Still Wakes The Deep because it's such a delight to hear Scottish voice actors get work and I thought I'd address some questions I keep seeing Let's Players ask:

--Adair is a member of the National Front as you can find out from posters in his cabin, a Neo-Fascist British political party that’s been going since the sixties. While it often preaches British ethnic unity, in practice that often means “everybody in the UK should be exactly like East End Londerners” and features plentiful disdain for Scottish, Irish, and Welsh folk, alongside those perceived as “not British”. No wonder the wanker eats alone in the canteen.

--Neeps and Tatties=turnips and potatoes, mashed, drenched in butter or sauce. Fills your belly, keeps you warm, probably makes you sink like a stone because it’s so heavy.

--Cranachan=a dessert made of raspberries, honey, cream and oats, absolutely delicious

--Rennick calls Caz a “wee ned prick”. Ned is apocryphally said to stand for “non-educated delinquent” and is basically just a way of calling someone an uneducated, lower-class criminal

--A lot of things said by and about Roy indicate that he’s a teetotaller who went through AA and specifically became Catholic and is making an effort at converting Caz.

--I think it’s entertaining how Scottish nicknames often follow a pattern of shortening/rejiggering that I also see a lot with Australian nicknames—Cameron becomes Caz, Rafferty becomes Raffs, etc. Trots is an unusual one but is almost certainly a reference to him being a communist, presumably a Trotskyist. Gibbo is also an unusual one in that it’s just very silly. There’s a kind of indignity implied in being killed by a guy called Gibbo.

--A few times on the radio you hear the Shipping Forecast, a type of weather report aimed at specifically reporting weather conditions out on the ocean, and is also famous for the report being read in such a calm, soothing tone that some folk use it as a sleep aid.

--All the yellow paint for interactable things is very video gamey, yes, but is also in line with old British health and safety standards, and yellow paint on things like emergency ladders or on the edges of stairs that are trip hazards is a thing ou can still see in some older buildings.

--Caz keeps saying he’s “good with the leccy”; leccy=electricity. Caz is implied to be quite a wee guy who can get through a lot of tight spaces, and my uncle swears blind that electricians used to refuse to take on apprentices over a certain size because they only wanted to train wee guys who could get up into the tight spaces that a lot of older buildings are full of. On that note, “wee man” is a term of endearment, generally, and isn’t exclusively applied to short guys.

--Finlay saying of Gibbo that “he’s no right” is INCREDIBLY OMINOUS. It sounds mild but “he’s no right, that boy” is what older folk say about a child who’s been found disembowelling cats for fun or someone they strongly suspect is a pedophile. It’s not something you’d say about a friend who’s just acting a bit unusually.

– “Great minds united over a Buckie”--Buckfast, or Buckie, is a caffienated tonic wine that’s cheap, widely accessible, and is a bit like rocket fuel for bad decisions.

– “Ya roaster” tbh I don’t really know where it comes from, calling someone a roaster, but I’ve always felt like it has a vibe of telling them they’re huffing their own farts.

--Scunnert/scunnered--buggered, screwed, utterly fucked, etc

– “You’re the jammiest bastart on this rig” Someone who is jammy is someone who has incredible luck that is implied to be related to their sheer confidence or willingness to engage in risky behaviour. Walking along the street and finding a pound coin isn’t jammy; crossing the road confident that the cars won’t hit you and stopping in the middle to pick up a pound coin before making it unscathed to the other side is jammy as all hell.

--Barlinnie is the biggest prison in Scotland, and largely hosts violent offenders—it’s where Caz would definitely go for hospitalizing a man.

--Weans are children (contraction of wee yins/wee ones). I thought this one was contextually obvious but apparently not.

SPOILERS BELOW

--”One spark and the whole thing’ll go up”—this is referring to the wee spark of flame in the lighter used to blow up the rig, but is also kind of a pun because electricians are often called sparks or sparkies, and in the end it’s Caz who blows up the rig.

[codtrashsammy]

Cute Meet?

Started as a kinda character study and idk what happened, i'ma be honest. I haven't written anything with length in awhile, so feel free to leave cc and let me know what you think <3 Just a cute meet kinda scenario, reader is an anxious lil thing and Simon 'Ghost' Riley is obsessed upon first glance. Love? No, not yet.. but obsessed, yes. Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You Warnings: No warnings, no use of y/n tho Enjoy :))

Ghost is the keeper. Ghost is stoic, cold, even apathetic. Ghost can kill a whole platoon without batting an eye, can be covered in the blood of his enemies and be entirely uncaring to watch it flow down the drain once he has enough time to scrub the caked blood from where it seeped through his clothes. He is in charge, able to control his emotions effortlessly, able to lead. He is everything he needs to be. And then there’s Simon. Ghost is the keeper. Simon is the man beneath the mask who needs one. Simon is more akin to a stray dog than a human at times. Face hidden from the world, yet teeth always barred and ready to bite. Hidden behind a mask, a carefully crafted mask that is Ghost. A man with more scars than flesh, a man with more trauma than peace, a man who simply longs for the normalcy of life without a way to reach it. And then came you.

Ghost couldn’t care less for you. The mask is on as he’s on leave, shopping in a grocery store to get something to eat on while he stays in that damned motel for the next couple of weeks before flying out once more. The mask stays in place, a protection, a show the keeper is in charge. You don’t mean to run into him, you’re definitely not the type to go looking for trouble- you’ve had enough of that in your life, and you’re just starting to get your shit together for the nth time. But as you’re both leaving, you stumble, bumping right into him and leaving a couple of his poor bags strewn about on the sidewalk rather than carefully held within each hand. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost grumbles with a sigh, clearly not pleased by the circumstances while watching a can of beans he had bought simply roll off of the sidewalk area and into the road- promptly ran over by a vehicle looking to park. No beans and toast now, british man. “I am so sorry-” You immediately apologize, the sheepish and embarrassed look on your face obvious as you dust yourself off and try to begin gathering the mess that you had caused. Ghost is annoyed at you. Just one look and he’s annoyed. But Simon? Simon is enchanted. The sweet, sheepish smile on your face, the way you scramble to help, the heat to your cheeks in your embarrassment as you scatter around trying to fix the situation. The way your hair falls and how you’re clearly nervous, but you still act anyway. You don’t care of how he looks- all brooding and intimidating with his hoodie over his head and the black medical mask over the lower half of his face. You couldn’t care less of that- you simply want to make things better. Simon notices that though. Simon remains frozen for a few moments, hidden interest in his eyes as he watches you scramble about, resorting your things just to have an extra couple of bags for his things. And you just hand things back over to him, the sheepish smile still on your face, the embarrassment clear- but gods, you look like such a sweet lil thing, lookin’ at him like he’s a human, a person. “‘S fine,” Simon eventually spits out, taking the bags from your hands and glancing once more at the beans staining the roadway now, before turning to focus his attention back on you. He could let you leave now. He could, it’d be so easy. He could leave it at that and walk away, probably never hear or see from you again. I mean, hell, he’s only known you for all of 5 minutes, and it’s because you’re a clumsy little shit who fucked up his shopping. It’d be so easy so why does it feel so hard. “D’ya always ‘ave to make such an impression?” Simon quips out, readjusting the bags comfortably in his grip. You can’t even pretend not to notice his accent- it’s unusual for where you live, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it outside of the media you’ve consumed. It’s pleasant, rings around in the ears for a bit. You finally meet his eyes, and gods, they are gorgeous. Deep, rich, brown- like chocolate with golden flecks scattered. Especially in the sunlight- like they are now- pools of liquid gold swimming about a chocolate river. “Ah- No- Um-” You struggle to find the right words, now your cheeks are warmer, and it’s less from embarrassment and more from the pretty eyed stranger you just fucking throttled on accident. But at least he doesn’t seem angry, so there’s always that. “I’m so sorry,” You settle on apologizing again, one of your hands moving to nervously run through your hair, pushing some strands out of your face. “‘S fine. Really.” Simon says with a slight nod, and you can feel the burn of his eyes as they trail over you. You can’t decide if he means it or not, though, he sounds oddly monotone for such simple words. “Still, I feel bad, I uh- I’m kinda clumsy at best,” You blurt out, sheepish smile on your face despite its softness as you glance away from him before looking back once more, “I uh- just wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going- a real bad habit of mine, honestly- which is surprising cause you’re kinda huge and hard to miss-” 

What the fuck did you just say?!Your cheeks heat up further, hands moving to gesture with your words now. You’re rambling, you know you are, but god did not give you the ability to shut the fuck up. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re uh- very well-built!” what the fuck you’re making it worse- “I-I mean- You uh- You have lots of muscle a-and that’s a good thing! And you have pretty eyes- always a bonus!” Simon’s eyebrow slowly lifts, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Simon’s been called a lot of things in his life- but he’s realizing at this moment that no one has ever called his eyes pretty. They’re brown. He can recall Johnny referring to them as ‘shit brown’ more often than not.  And you just look so fucking adorable- continuing to ramble, but he’s hardly paying attention to the words now, watching your cheeks get darker, your hands gesturing with your words, nervously shifting on your feet as you try to ‘save’ the situation. Such a precious lil thing, too pure for this world.

Simon was enchanted at first glance.

Ghost decides he could be, too.

A pretty thing like you? In this world? Oh, love, that’s just not safe. You’re a lil bundle of nervous, clearly. How’d ya make it this far? Who made ya like this? Unsure, rambling, nervous? Ghost wants to learn you. Wants to figure out what events molded you into this cute lil thing. You clearly need someone- he won’t judge, Simon needs him, too.

Ghost decides he wants to know you. Simon has made that thought known.

“You know what? I’m gonna shut up!” You finally say, voice a higher pitch and the heat being felt in the tips of your ears at this point as you take a step away from the masked man, who you know you’ve done ruined the chance to know with your inability to shut the fuck up.

“Tell me yer name before ya do,” Simon says, voice smooth like it’s the easiest and most casual thing in the world.

He’s so… quiet. He let you ramble and make an absolute fool of yourself- but now he’s actually wanting to know your name?

After you manage to knock yourself out of your stupor, you finally offer your name to him, cheeks finally cooling down a bit. Only to heat back up once he repeats your name in that voice of his, all low and gruff- says it differently than anything you’ve ever heard before- like it’s something important, something that matters.

“Simon,” He supplies, adjusting his bags in one grip as he offers a hand to you.

Simon and Ghost are two very different people who share this skin suit.

But they both decide you’re theirs.

[natailiatulls07]

It's giving old money

Oscar Piastri x British!Countess!reader

Summary - Oscar and his self conscious girlfriend, who is also a British countess, slowly soft launch their very private relationship however another certain Brit speeds up that process

Warning - swearing, Y/n is self conscious??

Faceclaim - Lila Moss

-

yourusername

Nights in Monte Carlo x

Liked by friendsusername and 124,674 others

Limited comments

friendsusername Hun we need to do this more often!

= yourusername Oh of course babe

username So jealous of her lifestyleee

username Imagine being her I wishhh

ilovey/nwithmyhearttt

Y/n is at Wimbledon with her friend! I love the blue dress and the natural look <3

Liked by username and 58,739 others

username She's too gorgeousss omfggg

username Can we take a moment for the dress!

username Where is that dress frommm?? It's a fucking need!

= username I think it's Ralph Lauren

= username Thank yewww

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oscarpiastri

A couple of days in London between gps

Liked by aussiegrit and 173,593 others

username Is this post sponsored by Ralph Lauren???

username Wait I recognize that dog, whats going on?!

username Oscar Pastry who is that?

landonorris Be safe bro emoji

= oscarpiastri Thanks mate lol

username It's giving old money

= username it's giving richhh

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yourusername posted a story

username Y/n's new story of Archie, my heartttt

username Ikrr I want to kidnap it LMAO

username Wait Archie looks a lot like the dog in Oscar Piastri's recent instagram post, am I tripping??

username Gurl calm down, I doubt it. They are worlds away from eachother lol

username Yeah I agree, Y/n is too stuck up to make friends with anyone outside her countess/count social circle

yourusername

Let's go racing x

Liked by mclaren and 166,289 others

Limited comments

username This is new...

username My multiverse of madness!

mclaren Your welcome anytime <3

= yourusername I had the best time, thank you

username Okayyy so anyone wanna say something to me?? :|

username Look okay I'm sorry, maybe you did have an inkling

username Now that I look at it, the dog does very similarrr

username IKRR I think her and Oscar would be cute together lol

username They'd be the perfect old money couple nglll

oscarpiastri posted a story

yourusername

Thank you Melbourne, you're the best x

Liked by oscarpiastri and 178,484 others

Limited comments

username Melbourne? thats random...

username Is this a soft launch????

username Oscar Piastri in the likes, Y/n in Melbourne...where Oscar also is, is Y/n and Oscar soft launching? :3

username Ummm Y/n??

oscarpiastri

Days down in the water with my loved ones are my favourite

Liked by yourusername and 183,864 others

username Blonde hair + Melbourne + beach + Recent events + Y/n's like = Soft Lauch with Y/n L/n

= username Case closed! It has to be herrr

username I love summer break Oscar sm

logansargeant Always remember protectionnn

= oscarpiastri :|

username I need any more pleaseeee

username I mean they are making it very obviousss

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landonorris posted a story

Text (White: Oscar Orange: Lando)

Dude what the fuck

What?!

What you've done?! You've just fucking outed mine and Y/n's relationship!!

Ohhh shit sorry man I didn't think you could see her face in the story I'll delete it now

No don't worry, we're trending on twitter anyways

Yeah sorry Osc, how's Y/n doing?

She's very anxious rn, you know how she is with the publics opinion of her

Oh no maybe distance her from social media

Yeah, I've taken her phone off of her

Ofc sorry again man

Nah dw it was bond to happen

oscarpiastri

Yeah so me and this gorgeous women are dating. We want to keep it private and we hope you will respect our wishes <3

Tagged: yourusername

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[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Two)

Summary: As the war of words, and destruction of inanimate objects continues between you and the blue eyed squatter in your home, Mr Thomas Shelby. You are pulled back into reality from the distraction of his presence and quickly reminded of your impending, dreaded nuptials when your fiance pays you a visit. But with the Birmingham gangsters observing eyes never missing a thing. What will he make of your husband to be's unruly hand when he sees the true nature of your relationship, and that of the man you're set to marry?

Warnings: Language, angst, manipulation, domestic violence, use of one racial slur

Word Count: 4332

Authors Note: £17,000 British sterling pound in 1924, is worth £850,000 in todays value.

" Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr Abbott" you graciously greeted the piano tuner as you walked him to the main living area, crossing your arms in an attempt to put a stop to your fidgeting hands, and the relentless twiddling of your anxious fingers. How on earth were you going to explain this one? you smiled nervously to the portly man sporting an impressive moustache. It's perfectly curled, whiskery ends reaching the very tops of his wind-chapped cheeks.

After the previous days' eventful morning and a much warranted reminder that you were in fact, living with a gun-welding gangster. Tommy, your unwelcome housemate, single handedly took it upon himself to move your bullet-ridden grand piano into the living room and away from the vicinity of his quarters and ringing ears.

And with one morning of your musical skills having been missed, you were keen to reset the alarm for the following day. Or so, that's what you thought.

" What seems to be the problem then, Miss?" the man that had once sold you the precious musical instrument queried. His passion for his craft rarely seeing him leave his workshop where he preferred the sound of the ivory keys more than any human voice.

" Oh, just a small one" you replied, pushing the wooden door open. "A missing key" you found a way around to describe the charred bullet hole in the non existent note of B. B for bastard, you thought to yourself and the vandal that had destroyed it as your brow furrowed in confusion at the renowned craftsman who was now wide-eyed as you both stepped into the room.

"Oh, well this...this..." words stumped you as you turned your head to see your once glossy piano now in a piled heap of wood in the middle of the room. The hatchet used for it's barbaric destruction embedded at the very point of its woody mountain.

" Excuse me, for just, one moment" you forced a smile through the fury rapidly bubbling under your skin as you quickly turned on your heel, leaving the horrified pianist alone with the piano he had poured his love, sweat and tears into crafting as he pitifully pressed his finger down onto the only remaining chiming key of C. C for...

"Mr Shelby!" you shouted marching through the corridors in search of the only person capable of committing such a monstrosity as you came to a stop in front of the office door. Your learnt manners quickly escaping you when you stormed through without the polite formalities a lady such as yourself would possess, having had a governess for the majority of your childhood years.

"Mr Shelby!" You repeated, flying pass the opening door to see the squatters sleeves rolled up, a peak of chest hair visible through the open top button of his collared shirt your flustered stare had witnessed twice in already twenty-four hours. Hardly gentlemanly, you scoffed to yourself as your heated cheeks darted away from his causal choice of attire.

" On the mantel", Tommy said mid conversation, looking up from the papers between his fingers to the young worker with a brassy ornament in his hand.

"Mr..."

" No Beethoven this morning, eh?" He stopped you as he leant back into his leather chair with a satisfied smirk etched on his lips as you strutted forward, and the young employee made a swift exit. "Or maybe some, Mozart?" His lips tightened into a smile as he subtly cocked his head to the side, reaching for a much needed drag of a cigarette the stress of your presence gave him.

" What is all this?" you looked around the room, forgetting your barrage of accusations when your eyes widened at the many various objects he had added to your father's office to replace the ones you had hoarded.

" Oh, no, no, no. This won't do, this won't do one bit!" you said in horror, piling them into your arms whilst you made your way around the room as Tommy's scrunched brow followed you until you came to a stop in front of him. " This is my office you've just come in and commandeered. And my piano, you..."

" I think you mean my piano. In my living room. In my house, no?" Tommy corrected you as he lit a cigarette, his squinting eyes skimming over your figure hugging dress. You weren't exactly making it easy for him to look away. To ignore your bossy presence, he thought to himself as his blue-eyed stare lingered longer than intended before he snapped himself away from his wandering eyes and stood up, adjusting his tailored waistcoat.

" Look, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot" he said, playing the peace maker in attempt to replace the ferocious frown boring into him.

"The wrong foot?" You scoffed, shaking your head as he perched himself casually on the edge of the oak desk in front of you, the playful glint in his eyes toying with you through the cloud of smoke seeping from the rolled cylinder of tobacco between his fingers. " We got off on the wrong foot, the moment your foot stepped into my house and you shot, then destroyed my piano"

" Right. So those early wake up calls weren't to piss me off then? Drive me out, eh?" he cocked a brow as his tongue ran across his bottom lip, the slappable smile now teasingly glaring back at you, further irritating you.

"I...I"

"Yes, Y/N?" His brows raised, waiting for the smart response he knew your brain was trying to scramble together as he continued to keep you on a first name basis.

" I..." You stopped yourself, before you blurted something you would later berate your flustered brain for saying.

"Just so you're aware, Mr Shelby. I happen to play the violin too" you said as you wittiness finally caught up with the anger demanding all the free space in your head. "And poorly" you finished, stealing the smugness sitting on his teasing smirk as you quirked a brow. His widening eyes coming to the quick realisation that if he was going to get even an ounce of sleep to fill his notorious lack in slumber, there would need to be an urgent manhunt for the destruction of every musical instrument you possessed.

" Have at it, love" Tommy's heavy footing stomped after you as you turned for the door, his casual response hiding the protruding bone of irritation in his clenching jaw. " Last bit of fun until you're sent off to marry, eh?" He delivered the damning reminder of your predicament hot on your heels as your head snapped back to see him stood directly behind you, watching your satisfied smile drain.

" Cal Astor, no?" Tommy pointed to you, his cigarette resting loosely between the callous pads of his fingers. He'd been looking into you, gathering information, your mind urgently tried to weigh out how much he had learnt of your dire situation as your sharp glare met his. " One of the top ten richest men in the country. What a catch" he slipped the attained details of your fiance's status to you with a smirk.

" Tell me, Y/N. Why would a young lady such as yourself, weeks from marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country care so much for bricks and mortar? " He questioned, blowing a cloud of smoke into the room as his interrogating stare bore into you while you stood momentarily lost for words once again.

"Oh, Sissy?" your brothers irritating pet name called to you from the foyer as a palpable silence settled in the room, pressuring one of you to make the first move.

" You have a guest, love" Tommy's gravelly voice broke the tension as he raised his brows, his challenging glare undisrupted from your brothers bellowing voice.

In a dramatic display of discontent for not only the way he had intruded into your home, but also, the details of your private life he had infringed on. You purposely released the items in your arms to the floor, when the sharp end of an ugly ornament stabbed you in the toe in the process, eclipsing your unfaltering stance to not have the stranger in front of you win another battle in the war he had declared.

Stifling the whelping pain now throbbing through your foot, Tommy waited and watched with curiosity. Thoroughly impressed that the lady in front of him, born with heirs and graces, had gone so long without a mere whimper, or foul-mouthed word. Was you really that bloody stubborn?

Holding in your impending scream, you swiftly turned your back and made your way out the door. Hobbling to the nearest wall, a stroppy, frustrated, grunt of pain left your lips while you lifted your throbbing foot, clutching your toe in pain as Tommy breathed out a heavy sigh and fell into the leather upholstered chair behind the wall next to you. How long would you both keep this up until you came to a solution? And how many toes, ornaments and any other inanimate object would be sacrificed in the process?

" Ahh there she is. My dear, sister" Johnathan greeted you as you walked forward through the bruising pain you had unintentionally inflicted on yourself.

" How's the houseguest?"

" Trespasser, Johnathan" you corrected him as you winced from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pressure of your swelling toe.

" Blimey, that bad?" he chuckled resting his heavy arm over your shoulders, forcing you back on to two feet with a shudder of pain. " Don't fret baby sister, church bells will be ringing soon. Then you'll be rid of this gloomy dump!" he said, squeezing you into him with a rough pat to your arm.

"Aha! Speaking of the husband to be" Johnathan said letting go as you looked up at the smartly polished dress shoes walking your way. Your stomach dropping at the sound of his voice beckoning closer.

" Darling" a voice broke through your brother's chatter as your fiance snaked his hand around your waist, leaning into your cheek.

" Cal" you meekly voiced as you turned your head away from him, earning you a scornful glare and a sharp squeeze to your hip.

"Playing hard to get are we?" Cal scoffed a laugh through his pearly whites, the insult of you refusing his affection in front of company further angering him and his tightening grasp that had become prone to landing blows to your delicate skin.

" You won't see my sister give in that easily, Cal" Johnathan laughed through the cigar between his teeth, oblivious as per usual to the true nature of his friend and acquaintance he had latched on to. Or rather, money he had latched on to.

"Indeed" Cal looked down at you with a smirk, having already had his way with you.

A moment of fear, of weakness. You told yourself when you had given into his forceful demands as he hitched up your dress whilst his heavy frame climbed on top of you.

Coerced, guilted, or even a last plea of naive hope on your part to have him finally let you be if you gave him what he wanted, you'd tell yourself in moments of reflection and sorrow for the part of yourself you lost that night when you dulled his predatory insistence with whatever drink you could find. Was that why you gave him so much power? Because he was your first intimate, and now tainted experience?

" Frances, one moment!" Johnathan called, jogging after your housekeeper as he watched her hurry away from your brother's long list of demands she knew she'd be dumped with if she didn't make a quick escape.

" You disappoint me Y/N" your fiance abruptly turned you to face him, now alone together, and away from observing eyes. " Was quite the surprise when I sent a car for you the other night and it returned, empty. My fiance, missing" he said as you tried to leave when his strong grip came down on your arm, bruising through your skin. "You're not going to go missing again are you, darling?" his irritation was felt through the sarcasm laced in his words.

Too many times had you avoided his invitations, had you purposely found yourself out of town when his presence increased with the death of your father and the rules of courting he had imposed to keep any premarital scandals at bay. The only rule your father had ever implemented in your life that you were thankful for.

" No" you shook your head, your strong character once again unable to stand up to the man you had unwillingly passed so much control of your words and actions over to.

" Good girl" he chided, a satisfied smirk growing on his lips closing in on yours as you flinched at his pressing hold around your reddened wrists, forcing you to endure his embrace.

" Johnathan, the car" he smiled breaking away, releasing you from his grip as he called for your brother who childishly waited on his every word.

Stood alone in the foyer, rubbing the taste of him from your swollen lips, the bruising soreness from your bluing skin, you watched as your brother entertained the man you had become to loathe, when your tearful eyes turned to see Tommy stood between the frame of the office door, having witnessed the most vulnerable part of your existence you had shamefully hidden away.

For be it poor or rich. A woman's woes in the time you lived in were always unheard, always played down to an inaudible silence. And Tommy was no fool to think otherwise, as he too stood silently watching you walk away without a word.

Sat in the bay window of your room later that morning, you smiled as you watched the stable hand pat down your mare's dusty coat, giving her the pampering she deserved.

"Your tea, Miss" Frances announced as she walked through the door with a silver platter of England's finest, freshly brewed. " Good heavens! What ever happened to your foot?" She said upon seeing your expanding toe precariously resting on a stack of cushions and books. 

" Mr Shelby" you said as your eyes narrowed in on the trespasser now approaching your thoroughbred down in the courtyard.

" Mr Shelby did this?" Frances' eyes widened upon hearing your accusations as she examined your lack of care for your swelling digit doubling in size.

" No, Mr Shelby's ghastly ornament did that" you said briefly looking at your propped-up foot before your attention returned to outside. " What on earth is he doing?" You curiously observed the squatter, his presence a welcome distraction to your impending nuptials and crippling worries. Not that you would admit it, of course.

" Oh my" Frances's hand flew to her chest as she watched the bridle being adjusted to your saddleless horse. " I should go warn him" Frances turned to leave when you hoped up with a giddy smile as you searched for the shoe you would force to fit around your ballooning foot.

" No, no" you gently rested your hand on your housekeeper's arm, stopping her from sabotaging your fun. " Let him find out himself" you grinned as you limped to the door, leaving Frances shaking her head disapprovingly at the woman she had cared for since she was a rosy-cheeked baby, toddling from one foot to the other.

Stood by the stable door, you curiously watched as Tommy whispered words of gentle reassurance to your horse, brushing his hand down her muzzle as your steps apprehensively approached closer, unsure if the topic of conversation would be your finances heavy hand he saw earlier that day, you wished not to discuss.

" How's your toe?" Tommy asked, his cigarette resting loosely between his lips as he turned to face you with an emerging smile dimpling the corners of his eyes.

" My toe? Good as new" you lied, badly, as you crossed your arms at the amusing chuckle leaving your unwanted guests' lips." You should saddle her" you warned him as you watched him lead her towards you, secretly hoping he would continue his refusal to listen to your bossy demands.

" Was born riding, love. Think I can handle her" he confidently proclaimed as he shot you a wink. " Come on, steady now" he patted her side as you followed behind them, eager to see him unceremoniously take a blow to his insufferable cockyness.

" What's her name?" He asked as he lifted himself up, adjusting the reigns in his hands to his liking.

" Nelly" you said as you leant back on the wooden fencing of the small paddock, taking the weight of your throbbing foot you had shoved into the soles of your tightly laced boots.

" Nelly, eh?" Tommy quietly mumbled clearing his throat, suddenly doubting his riding skills as he looked down at the jittery creature bouncing from hoof to hoof. " Steady, girl" he managed to control her erratic movements as he pulled back the reigns with a gentle pressure. " Don't show me up, Nell. I'll never hear the end of it" he quietly whispered to your horse with a pat to her neck as you watched on with amusement.

" See, we're doing alright. Aren't we Nelly?" Tommy called out to both you and your horse as he trotted along the muddied ground. " She just needs some firm guidance, is all" he said as he passed by your rolling eyes. " With a horse like..." Tommy continued his unsolicited advice when a freckled orange and black butterfly passed in front of him, causing Nelly to rear up in fear before throwing him off and bolting away.

" Shit" Tommy huffed at the sound of your approaching hysterics as he lay in the mud, his ego having been embarrassingly taken down a few notches off it's high pedestal.

" Am I in hell?" he opened one eye to see your smirking face looming over him with your hand out for him to take, when your smile turned to a scowl and you let him drop to the ground once again. " No, still alive" he grunted as he pulled his body and throbbing head back up, resting his arms on his bent knees as he watched your horse trot towards you. " Her name wouldn't happen to stand for nervous Nelly, would it?" Tommy looked up at you both as he watched you nuzzle your head against her neck, her thumping heart slowly settling with your tender touch.

" Nervous Nelly, notorious Nelly. Even nutty Nelly at one point. My girl has earned herself quite a collection of nicknames, haven't you, darling" you said as you cupped your hand under her muzzle, letting her lick the saltiness of your palms.

" Here" you said, putting your free hand out for him to take. " Are you hurt?" You asked as you both hobbled out of the paddock back to the stables. Both a sight of giggling fits for the staff of Arrow House looking from behind the twitching curtains of your shared home.

" No more than your toe is" he smiled down at you as you walked beside each other, free of any bellowing voices or snide remarks for the first time in almost a week, having both taken a dramatic blow to your obnoxious stubbornness.

" Mr Shelby" you turned to face him as you gave the reigns to your stable hand. " How much did my father owe you?" You took the opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging you in your brief truce before the battle of words recommenced.

" £17,000" Tommy exhaled as he looked at you from the corners of his eyes, a feeling of pity for you and the burden your father had selfishly lumbered you with stopping him from making any smart remark.

With a future of little prospects, other than that of a high-society marriage, every woman such as yourself was destined for. Tommy had come to the knowledge that your father had secured your life by marrying you off into wealth rather than leaving you with his fortune to pave your own way in life.

As your eyes widened and the learnt details of your fathers debt and how big of a whole he had dug in his wake. A guttural feeling of dread weighed down your stomach at the large sum of money your father owed, nearly exceeding that of Arrow Houses' value.

" I will pay you back, Mr Shelby" you said as you looked back to your home and it's surrounding land. Suddenly feeling you had nothing else to offer other than your word.

"Look, Y/N..."

" I will find a way, Mr Shelby" you made a pledge you knew would be near impossible to uphold if the deeds to your house had indeed, no standing.

With a small nod of his head, Tommy gazed down at you as a brief moment of peace captured him in the silent breeze of summer blowing a lock of hair drifting across your cheek, glittering with the welcome rays of the midday sun. A silence you both welcomed in the neutral grounds of no man's land until the sound of your brother hurtling down the drive, car horn blaring, deafened your ears.

" Sister! I won it! I bloody won it! " Your brother laughed maniacally, high on his win with a wad of cash in his hands, having spent the entire morning in the casinos with your fiance.

" God's sake" you felt the embarrassment of your brother's presence as your eyes darted to Tommy undoubtedly judging your renowned noble name, questioning how a family such of your selves came to inherit it as you watched him ignite a cigarette behind the orangery glow of the flame.

" Sweet pea" Cal's voice approached you as you shifted away, stumbling into Tommy as you did. " Sorry" you apologised, tucking a rebel hair behind your ear with your flustered fingers as he steadied your fall with a gentle hand to your back, a touch foreign to you with the heavy strikes you had become accustomed to from the opposite sex.

"Cal, Mr Thomas Shelby. Mr Shelby, Earl Cal Astor" you introduced the two men as you stood in the middle, looking between their glaring stares as you subtly shrugged of your fiances hand on your arm in the process.

"Pleasure" Cal greeted him with a belittling tone of superiority with his hand out as Tommy's hovered momentarily in the empty space between them before lifting it to take a smoke. Only a mere nod of his head in acknowledgment of his presence.

Murder, theft, prostitution, gambling. Tommy did not only live a life in the dark shadows your fiance and brother would visit for entertainment. He was the maker of it. The master puppet to the riches seedy side of life he and his men would adorn with gold-collumed bars, and live jazz music to have them fill his pockets. He had met a dozen men like your fiance. Each a replica of the other. Each of them in the privacy of their home with wives, lovers and maids accustomed to feeling the back of their hand when money didn't get them what they felt they were owed.

There were many things Tommy's wavering moral compass didn't stand for. And have no doubt, he had seen the bruises on your wrists, the tears unspent in your eyes you hid as you hurried away earlier that morning.

"Excuse me. I have a business call" your unexpected houseguest said as he threw his cigarette to the ground, inches from the perfectly kept shoes of your fiance.

" Shelby!" he called with a mocking chuckle, angered by the blow of disrespect he'd been shown. " Perhaps you would grace us with your presence at our engagement ball next week. Then you can find the time away from your pressing business matters for us to get to know the Small Heath gypsy boy living with my soon to be wife" he tauntingly finished with his nose up, lifting the heavy gold signet ring of his family's crest to your lower back you had already felt on numerous occasions, the sharp end of.

Coming to a stop at the steps of Arrow House, you watched the notorious gangster with his hands seated in his trouser pockets as his back stayed turned to you, whilst you silently prayed he would refuse the invitation and childish game of belittling any class below him you knew your fiance was set on making a spectacle out of in sheer spite. A game you were not willing to play.

" Next week it is, Mr Astor" Tommy's low rumbling voice replied, never ceasing the opportunity to further his endeavor as his strong statue disappeared into the darkened foyer and the door shut behind him.

A potential for business, or rather a show of power to the man that had insulted his heritage so freely with one single disdained word used to rile him up and have him show his business acquaintances the true colours of the leader to the notorious cut-throat gang he had kept from their lives until any encouraging reminder was needed. For they were no better than him. Criminals with the most unsavory of dealings. And you had better believe, Tommy had no qualms being the one to show these men their own true colours, and the reminder that they were no different to any small-time thief from Small Heath with only a title of nobility slapped on the end of their name seperating them. No qualms at all.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium @peakyswritings

@tiedyedghoulette

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital illustration of Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. He is a thin British Indian man with chin length dark brown hair streaked with grey. He is wearing glasses, a white shirt, a green jumper, and a tweed blazer. He is faced three quarters to the right, looking up to the left with an anxious expression. There are a few spectral green eyes drawn around him. End description.]

Found myself missing the archivist

[itsmrshamilton]

Last Goodbye | LH44

summary: reader is involved in a car accident during qualifying. can Lewis make it to her on time to say one last goodbye

a/n: lol, the summary is way more dramatic than it needs to be. I'm trying a different pov. Let me know what you think. Requests are open.

The sun was positioned high in the sky, the wind softly tickled the trees and there wasn't a single cloud in view for miles. The perfect Saturday afternoon to hold the Qualification Races for the British Grand Prix which would take place on Sunday. Lewis had left earlier that day just like the other racers in order to get to the track on time and begin preparing with their teams. Due to her work, Y/n was unable to attend most races on the calendar but she wouldn't miss the Silverstone race for anything in the world. It was their home race, the one time she got to spend the whole weekend with Lewis and their family while he worked. As scary as it was for her, she loved watching her favourite person do what he did best and inspire millions while he did it.

As was their tradition for home race weekends, Lewis had left Y/n her favourite breakfast in the kitchen, a handwritten note on a counter and a soft kiss on her forehead while she slept then quietly snuck out with Roscoe under his arm. She would have offered to bring their son with her later in the day but she knew that Roscoe had eager fans in the engineers' garage that were waiting to spend the day with him. So she got up and went about her morning on her own, tidying up and making snacks for later when Lewis came home knackered and starving.

She picked up her bag, patted herself down for keys then checked her phone for any last minute requests from her boyfriend. Seeing nothing new since the previous texts she sent, she figured he may have already started racing so she took a quick selfie and sent it with a caption. "I think I stand a chance of overshadowing your paddock outfit today, lol. I'm leaving the house, see you soon. Knock 'em dead, love" She giggled at her awful sense of humour before leaving the house and locking up.

The drive to the track was usually short but on such an eventful day, there were many cars on the road and one could feel the buzz of excitement and anticipation in the air. Y/n wasn't an anxious driver but seeing people pull risky moves between the lanes made her drive with a foot hovering above her brakes just in case.

🖤🖤🖤

"Okay, Lewis, P2 for Q1 was a great start. Let's keep that up and improve if we can. Q2 starts in 10 minutes, yeah?" Fred clapped Lewis' shoulder and walked off to another part of the garage.

"Yeah, thanks, man." Lewis replied as he stood in the red garage looking at the screen replaying his latest performance on the track. Roscoe pawed at his foot and whined, clearly requesting to be picked up. The bulldog seemed to forget that at his old age he was getting heavier but his father lovingly adhered and brought Roscoe to his chest with a grunt and a kiss to the forehead. "Where's your mum, eh? She's usually the one cuddling you during qualy, huh?"

He looked around the garage to see if his girlfriend had entered while he was distracted. He knew that the drive there wasn't very short but she always arrived before Q2 began so he was slightly confused. "Hey Marc, have you heard from Y/n or my dad?" he asked an engineer as he glanced at his phone. "No, nothing. There is traffic at the entrance though so that may be causing their delayed arrival." the Italian responded. Lewis nodded seeming satisfied as he read Y/n's text confirming that she was on her way. He grinned like a love struck fool at the picture she sent of herself decked out from head to toe in Ferrari merchandise. She was truly the most beautiful being he had ever seen and he wondered for umpteenth time how he had lived before he met her. He sent heart emojis in response and went back to watching the recording on the screens.

🖤🖤🖤

Y/n sighed in relief as she reached the last intersection before the paddock entrance. She could see gates from here and couldn't wait to get out of her car and see her son and boyfriend. The red light she had stopped at turned green and she let her foot off the break to move forward. As she was about to cross the middle of the intersection, she noticed the cars behind her screech to a sudden holt but before she could access the confusing situation her car was hit from the side and she was sent jolting forward. The last thing in her vision was the airbag exploding into her face. She was unconscious by the time the horrified bystanders saw her car get thrust into the nearest pole by the driver who ran the red.

🖤🖤🖤

Lewis was seated in the red and yellow car and about to put on his helmet when he saw marshals, guests and staff hurrying in the direction of the paddock entrance. Focused on the next part of the race, he tried to stay grounded and drown out the sounds of shouting. "Lucas, radio check." he said to his engineer. "It's Lewis, radio check." Silence on the other end. He could now hear the sound of sirens in the air. "Lucas? Can-"

"Loud and clear, Lewis. Apologies for the delay, we were receiving a call from the stewards that there has been a car accident outside the entrance so there will be distractions during the second session."

Lewis grimaced and secured the position of his helmet on his head. Car accidents were awful to witness so he really felt sorry for those who were involved. He took hold of the steering wheel.

"That's awful. Do we know who it is? Has help arrived?" He asked sincerely.

"Uh, not really. They say it's a blue and red Audi and a black-"

"A what?" Lewis felt his blood run cold and his suit get tight. He didn't think he heard right. He couldn't have heard that right.

"A blue and red Audi. Anyways, let's focus on the ra-" Lewis didn't let Lucas finish because he shot up and scrambled to get out of the car he was strapped into. He fell out, landed on all fours but got up to rip off his helmet. His knees stung and there were shouts all around him but he had no time to listen. His skin was hot, his throat was tight and DAMN IT, WHY WOULDN'T HIS GLOVES COME OFF! Frustrated, he took off in a sprint towards the paddock entrance, shoving everybody out of his way. In the back of his foggy mind, he thought he heard barking right behind him but was too distracted to check.

When he finally made it off the racetrack property, he was buzzing with adrenaline, covered in sweat and coughing from screaming at the crowd to let him through. At the end of the driveway he could see two green ambulances and multiple police cars parked in a taped off area. "Oh, God. Oh God, no."

He only knew one person with a red and blue Audi. A red and blue Audi that he had gifted them. One person who hadn't yet arrived to the Ferrari garage.

He stumbled forward to take in the scene illuminated by flashing lights. But before he could mumble out another plea to God, he stopped dead in his tracks. A black body bag. Beside what was left of the blue and red Audi that belonged to his girlfriend.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Thanks for reading! Be sure to interact with this post before you leave. Requests are open.

Do not repost on another platform, alter or translate my writing. I don't consent. If you do, I will send evil shongololos to bite your toes off at night.

[ladyelissarose]

‘Trick Show’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female soldier reader

Little description of reader- She was part of the team ‘Ghosts’. She goes by ‘Red’.

Red has been recruited into the 141 Task Force after they needed her special tactics to catch a certain asset.

Summary; Ghost knew about the Team ‘Ghosts’ but what he didn’t know was that there was a woman in it. He thought only men like him could be Ghosts, so to test your loyalty and worth of being known as one of them- he put you through a test.

Warnings: smut 18! NSFW! Kidnapping, strapping down, oral (m receiving) rough Simon, some degrading and praise. Freakin’ 4k!!

“Boys, Laswell has brought in a temporary recruit. A Lieutenant they are, they go by Red, and are part of the lethal group we know as ‘Ghosts’.”

The ears of the 141 Task Force perked up at Captain Price’s news of them being in the presence of their idols. They admired these people- no, killing machines that wore a heart just like them, but were the coldest, deadliest beings on earth, it was a surprise that they hadn’t become the Grim Reaper if not Death themselves after so much blood shed with no consequences for it.

The one that was the most ecstatic about meeting such Gods to him, was none other than the one named ‘Ghost’.

Simon Riley would probably be qualified to be part of the Ghosts’ Team, but he was satisfied with being the best in his team, no one better than him.

Physically he didn’t show he was excited or anxious to finally see them, he wasn’t one to expose his emotions, and what helped was that mask he wore 24/7 to conceal what he felt.

So with his bulky arms crossed and his brown orbs holding a deadly glare, he questioned,

“Which Ghost is it? One of the Walker’s?”

His thick British accent hid the amusement he held, he sounded rather unimpressed or unbothered instead. Price looked up from his file as he pointed to the door with a steady tone,

“One’s here, Logan Walker- but to leave behind the one that’s actually staying. What Elias noted about Red is exactly what we need, someone stealthy, sultry and deadly…”

Ghost ignored what was spoken about Red, as he eye twitched at the mention of a Walker in the same atmosphere as him, oddly enough he was a secret admirer of the Walker brothers, and couldn’t wait to be around one of them. Maybe not talk- Simon knew deep down he wasn’t much of a talker anyways, but it’d mean the world to him to be able to see a Ghost in the flesh.

“So when will they arrive?”

Soap’s Scottish accent broke through the thin silence, but also the sound of the door creaking open, and two soldiers rustling in.

“-cut it out Logan- oh! Lieutenant Red, Captain Price. Apologies.”

Red had almost tumbled in at Logan playfully shoving her, but Price kept a steady hand in front of her as if to catch her, as he replied with a calm smile, eyeing Logan.

“No apologies Red, I saw him.”

Red then poked Logan’s chest with a tease,

“See? Now everyone’s knows your a bully-“

“That I’m ‘your’ bully- Logan Waker, Captain Price.”

He then with a proud smile shook Price’s hand in front of Red, further teasing as he was practically on top of her. Now with an elbow on her shoulder he informed Price,

“She’s yours now, do as you please. I’ll take my pack of- oof!”

Red scoffed as her elbow met his side,

“You’re not selling or trading me Logan- I’m sorry Price he’s food and sleep deprived at the moment.”

Price nodded it off as he then pulled Red away from Logan,

“It’s alright Red, c’mere kid.. let’s introduce you to my team, the 141.”

Simon never clearly heard what Price said of you, for he was angry- if not furious, livid. He had never heard of you, a woman, being a lethal Ghost, in the position of a man. It made him feel diminutive, and he hated that.

What about you was so good or special, that you had made it in, and wore the title- the damned mask? He didn’t know.. but he as hell was sure he was going to. Simon would find it out himself before anything happened, before you took place in your mission.

——————

“Wakey wakey… Red.”

Your eyes shot opened at your code name being muttered out, and you immediately jerked forward, only to be pulled back by the chains that were bound around you, giving you no space to move.

Only in your t-shirt and small shorts. Arms, wrists, legs- even ankles… were chained on you to the metal chair you sat on. You were quite incredulous as you gasped out,

“Where am I?!”

A deep growl escaped your throat as you tried to pull on the chains, but no avail was on your side unfortunately, you were tied up as if you were a monster. In confusion you took a split second to think-

‘How’d I get here?’

As everything around you didn’t look familiar- and you couldn’t recall getting kidnapped or taken away at all. Although it wouldn’t be your first time kidnapped, but c’mon.. this time you didn’t remember shit.

Last thing you ever remember doing, was drinking a warm tea offered to you by one of the team members before going to sleep.

A low tsk’ was heard, echoing off the corners of the metals walls, and soon footsteps followed, sounding slow and coming one after another like rain, although it sounded like the thunder but from a far distance. Soon a large shadow came into sight, tall in stature and muscular built, you had yet to see his face, but his presence alone made you gulp.

Nonetheless to hold a strong appearance or impression, you demanded,

“Who are you!?”

A gruff voice followed, one you thought you’ve never heard of, making your skin crawl and heart jump,

“Reaper... call me-“

Then his face came into your full view,

“Reaper... Red.”

Your jaw dropped in question.

‘Who the hell is this?’

His face was unlike one you’ve ever seen, beautifully terrifying. His eyes held a snakes gaze but were doe-like, the small light illuminating above him shadowed what appears to be brown eyes.

His nose was probably sculpted very nicely before it got broken, for now it holds a little twist, either way it fit him oddly well.

His lips, chapped and busted in the middle- looked endearing and kissable. The top lip was a bit small, but the bottom one? Carried out how plumpy his lips looked.

Although over all... it was scarred. An old one laid from the top of his eyebrow to the cheek, and the other went from under the nose to his bottom lip. Little ones were also here and there, like minor scratches- but it was sure that they came from big nightmares.

You’ve never heard or seen this man before, as far as you knew about (for you’ve seen countless of people in your lifetime as a Ghost- you pretty much see everything)

But this one, ‘Reaper’... you’ve never seen such before. Heaven and Hell at once. Light and Darkness. The mystery behind who he could be, triggered you to take all of him, so you could learn every bit of his story and take it.

Before you could ask any other question or further analyze Reaper, his voice came out like a command,

“Give me the intel and names of the Ghost Team, if not I won’t make your death easy.”

‘What?!’

That’s what this evil Reaper wanted? The names and info of the greatest team out there- to what? Kill them. That’s all everyone wanted to do to you guys, because you were good, and scary.

The chances of getting out of this situation alive was probably doubtful, as you were not with your team at the moment, and who knows if the 141 knows your missing! You have a mission to carry out soon for them- yet here you are... in chains at the mercy of this beast of a man.

But you were smart right? The best of the best in your team... you could get your way anyways. You looked up to him as if this was a joke, or showing he didn’t scare you, so you proposed,

“Can I cut you a deal?”

Reaper scoffed lightly as he crossed his arms, thinking for a moment,

‘A deal? You’ve got to be out of your mind..’

He grunted,

“What deal?”

You looked down and around for a bit, before blurting out,

“You’re killing me right?”

Appearing terrifying Reaper specified,

“You’ll be dismembered by the time I’m through with you… God wouldn’t recognize you.”

Biting your lip nervously at how you vividly imagined it, you sighed with distress as you spoke,

“If you’re killing me anyways.. might as well make it count for me- I’ve done too much to be left without a last wish completed. It’d bruise my ego.”

A huff left Reaper’s lips, it dripped out like disbelief as he heard your pride while at the supposed brink of death,

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the wish? Both of us must gain from it before I tear you apart-“

“Fuck me, I give you answers, then you kill me.”

Shock was written all over Reaper’s expression, he never would’ve seen that coming, although your wish was very engrossing to him anyways. Though to keep himself in check to make sure you weren’t being crazy or what not, he straightened his broad shoulders and pried,

“You fucking with me?”

You smirked a bit and almost groaned out,

“It’s that or nothing- you’d kill me for your pride and that’s it… no answers or clues if you-“

Then with gritted teeth to show your desperation or seriousness, along with nodded eyes on him, you added,

“Don’t. Fuck. Me.”

He internally scolded himself when his cock twitched at your words. Blood heading straight towards his cock as you then tilted your head back, licking your lips as you went on,

“Come on… grant me my wish. I’d love to fuck that cock of yours. Taste it, ride it, be railed like an animal with it…”

Slowly you began to move your hips on the chair, being a damned menace as your eyes rolled back. Your breath hitched a bit when you happened to hit a certain spot, and you moaned out,

“Pleasssse… I’ll give it to you Reaper. Fuck me to the point I’m dying, and on my last breaths I’ll give it to you.”

Sex rolled off your tongue, and it dripped like honey and sounded sweet, although the words in between were bitter and sinful. The throbbing in Reaper’s tactical pants were beginning to take over his mind piece by piece, his cock jumping every time you spoke, his breath catching in his throat when you made the smallest yet most wicked sounds.

What was the craziest part about this, was that he was supposed to unfold the truth about his trick before it got serious, or before you released the truth. But with those promises dripping out of your moaning lips, he had to take what he could get out of it as it was part of the deal till the end, so… he was definitely going to go on with it.

But he wanted to tease you a bit more first…

The turmoil he caused you as he made you think he was killing you in the end, excited him on a whole other level. Tears streaming down your eyes, pouty red lips, you spilling your darkest desires, surrendering everything to him because he had the upper hand, it had him palming his painfully hardened dick through his pants, it was naughty all right- but damn it was tempting.

He let a low growl release from his throat as he heard another low whine escape your lips, and the pathetic cries while you clenched your thighs together,

“Reaper…. Please, just do this for me… and I’ll give you everything.”

You had your head tilted back the entire time, giving Reaper the whole view of your neck, the perfect canvas so he could mark you up and paint his teeth on you.

“Reaperrr- wha the deal-“

The last working cell in his brain spoke out, trying to hold him down and back as if he was a rabid dog,

“Shut up! Fucking hellll.”

Reaper lowered his gaze to the ground, not wanting to be spurred on more by your hips grinding onto the chair, although he still subtly rubbed his hardened length.

Simon thought he’d might make it through it- his little façade of being Reaper, and might just let you go instead and humiliate you for your naughtiness and unfaithfulness to the Ghosts. But you were sultry one, mumbling out loud enough for his ears to hear,

“Make. Me.”

Reaper came back and practically gulped at your daring words, and that’s when the thread of his patience and tolerance- snapped.

Head tilted back not by your choice anymore, but by the force of his large hand squeezing your throat and holding it in that position.

“Want me to shut you the fuck up?”

You were able to pull up one side of your lip, putting up a smirk as the words came out,

“Did I stutter... Reaper?”

“Fuck it-“

The zipper of his pants went down and in seconds his leaking tip came into your view as he had lowered your head by gripping your hair.

“See this? This is what your naughtiness does.”

Sucking your bottom lip then releasing it you questioned,

“What does it taste like?”

Reaper only smirked and muttered,

“Taste the fruit of your affliction, Red.”

No more smiles or words came you of your dirty mount, as it was stuffed to the brim by his fat cock.. shutting you up. He gave you no time to think or breathe as he fucked your mouth roughly, his hips hitting against your lips as he didn’t relent for one second.

“Fuck- suck on this fat- c-cock! Maybe that’ll shut you u-up! Oh Fuc-“

Groaning out in ecstasy as he held a full hand of your hair, guiding you back and forth, making sure your tongue got every bit of him, your nose touched his pelvis, and his cock touched the back of your sore throat.

“Such a good mouth you fucking slut- ohh fuck!!”

He’s had blowjobs before- but this? Ohh he could’ve sworn he was in heaven at how pleasurable it was. The way your tongue grazed over him and how you applied the right pressure, it got him on every nerve- the right way. To the point his eyes were rolling back and he was panting in desperation, his peak skyrocketing to incoming release.

“Fuck it I’m s-so close!! Ah!!”

But now as he loved the way you felt, he didn’t want to cum in your mouth anymore.. he wanted to cum on all of you.

“Fuck you-“

He left you gasping for air as he had suddenly pulled out, whimpering at the lost of your warm tongue on him, but he then growled as he searched like a mad man through his pockets for the key to the chains.

He had gotten most of them off of you in lightning speed, but the frustration of his high pending had him ripping off the rest of the chains from the chair, sending the pieces flying.

You were shocked at his desperation, and at his strength, trying to collect the thought of who he was as he was controlling, weak, desperate, and a good fucker-

“AH!”

Breath escaping your lungs as Reaper had grabbed you by the waist roughly and placed you face-down on the ground, hips pulled up to meet his crotch.

But what confused you was when he hesitantly asked, still using his firm tone,

“You sure are you want this?”

Your head was pressed to the cold ground by his hand, but you lifted it slightly as he had let you do so, wondering what you were going to say. Eyes meeting his you replied nonchalantly,

“It’s part of the deal isn’t it?”

His stern look turned unexpressive,

“That doesn’t answer it-“

“Fuck me Reaper, please.”

Fine, that’s what you wanted that’s what you’d get.

“As you wish.”

Cold air met your ass as he had pulled down your shorts, lifting your knees so he could slide them off completely.

‘Smack!!’

You let out a sharp squeal as his warm, large palm had met your ass, before his cock was pressed up to your clit, rubbing your wet slick all over it. You had grown soaking wet at gagging on his cock, and now your wetting him again as he’s pressing his tip into you.

He watched you for your reactions to his thick cock entering your tight pussy, but like that damned trained Ghost you were, you were expressionless, holding all the emotions in you in a cage, even when the craziest of things were happening to you.

But that made him almost angry, hating that you were the Ghost and hiding the emotions, while he gave up everything of himself to break you.

So he’d then break you- with his cock.

The rest of his length he slammed into you, and the only reaction you showed was with a groan,

“oh fuck”

He had started pounding into that pussy of yours, harder than ever, his hands gripping your ass tightly or your hips, wanting to leave marks and maybe cause a fraction a pain to you- just to hear your cry or break- but instead you moaned out like a bitch in heat. Although tears had started to fall- not cause your soul broke, but your body responded to him breaking it.

“Fuck!! Ugh- harder Reaper pl-please!!”

A sob escaped your wet lips as Reaper grasped onto your hip painfully hard, and his other hand found your throat, bringing your back against his chest with a hard smack, earning a delicious gasp from you.

He relentlessly began to rut into your throbbing pussy. Punctuating his words with every thrust.

“Fuckin’ helll... What. A. Good. Fucking. Pussy. Yesss Ohhhh fuck!!”

Squelching, wet sounds could be heard from your pussy as you were dripping from his precum and yours, skin slapping repeatedly followed as he went on and on, following your command to the perfect ‘T’.

His hard thrusts met your cervix every time, hitting that gummy part in you that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back, your breath was even knocked out of you as he pounded you like an animal.

Soon his hand left your hip, and traveled down your navel, straight to your clit, his two fingers pressed down on it and made you squeal,

“Oh!! Reaper- please touch my pussy! Ah- Yes!!! Like that!!!”

Small but hard circles were pressed onto your clit, further stimulating your climaxing high as your body was experiencing euphoria on a whole other level. He could feel how dangerously close you were to the edge, as your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, swallowing his length like a tight vice.

So to put an end to the chase, he purposely found your clit once again and rubbed tight circles, while railing into you faster than ever as he felt his high coming too.

“Cum f’me. C’mon Red- oh fuck-“

You got a hand full of his hair from behind you and pulled it as you began to see stars and your legs even started shaking.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming- please don’t st-stop!! Oh fuck Reaper!!”

Toes curling as you let out a long moan, finally feeling the band snap, and stars escaping every where. Reaper rode out your high as he rutted his hips into you, dragging the pleasure out for you as he drive himself closer, wanting to feel your warm cunt a little longer.

He was going to come any second now, his thrusts were harsh, quick, and the rhythm wasn’t consistent anymore, he had lost his streak a long while ago as he was going crazy rutting into your pussy.

All this while you were of breath, as you felt it all dissipate, but it was cut short when Reaper suddenly held a firm grip on your waist and flipped you over.

“Oh-“

When you fell on your back you saw the man hover over you. He was covered in sweat and his cheeks held a bright pink color, his eyes- all of him screamed sex and highs as he looked down at you hungrily.

When he had discarded all of his clothes- you’d never know, but he was bare before you, his tits- chest.. his chest glistening in the light covered in different tattoos which held different stories.. scars were part of the design on his canvased body.

Wet sounds could still be heard and that’s when your eyes and head tracked down to seeing him milk his cock, girthy it was and long in length too, red at the tip.

Your hands grabbed onto his that held your throat tight, as he began to let low moans and small whimpers escape.

Wanting to spur the moment, you began to coo,

“Come on Reaper... reward me.. give it to me.”

Your voice got him high and in seconds you were hearing a deep growl escaping his parted lips, and soon felt the warmth of his thick white cum painting your tummy to your breasts.

For being called Reaper he looked like a angel to you. He was quite the sight to behold... but now.. it was your time to shine like the Ghost your were after all.

As he tired to soak in is post-sex moment, you caught him by the waist with your legs, and flipped him around, where you ended up above him- hovering over him this time.

Simon’s brown eyes didn’t catch yours as your face was over his, but it was a glistening shine, a dagger shining in threat as it was pressed against his throat.

Words couldn’t collect in his mind which meant his tongue was speechless.

‘What the fuck-‘

“Did I pass the test Lieutenant.. Ghost?”

That sultry voice of yours came out from the bottom of your cold heart.

Simon let out a choked sound as he couldn’t quite grasp what the heck had just happened and what the hell he was looking at.

He was still coming down from his high and now feeling confusion if not panic arise in him at this, and it wasn’t a good combination if you wanted a clear head. But his fuck up kinda dawned on him as you added,

“I knew it was you Simon Riley…”

Oh fuck he shamelessly could’ve cum again at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, how wicked of you, but weak of him.

Although his eyes did widen and still showed that he didn’t necessarily believe you, so you went on with a sweet chuckle,

“what? You though that only you did your homework on people? Ha.. think again ‘Ghost’.. no matter how much ‘you’ think so little of me, I’ll always be a Ghost.. and of course.. I did my homework on you too. I know ALL about you.”

You then planted your hand on his neck, where a large scar laid, and you calmly yet firmly stated, eyes filled with honesty,

“I wrote the file on when you got buried alive, and crawled your way out. And this scar, I wrapped it up for you while you were unconscious on the heli when we finally found and picked your ass up.”

A breath of relief was then released from your lips, as you had finally got this confession off your chest, with exhaustion you plopped down onto Simon’s chest, resting your palms on your thighs. Simon didn’t realize how effective you were as a Ghost, and how much you knew about him now more than ever… he couldn’t risk letting you go now.

His hands snaked around you and rested on your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he declared,

“You can’t tell a soul about this.”

With that seductive way of yours, you leaned over Simon and traced his jaw with the dagger, looking straight into his soul as you suggested.

“Then you better ask ‘How hard?’ every time I tell you to fuck me- understood?”

The authority in your voice had him reply with a shuddered breath, not being able to take his ego off its knees. And of course, he was going to comply, he was just as addicted now.

“Affirmative ma’am.”

You smirked in triumph at his response, bringing his pink lips to yours, pressing a messy kiss to his lips and tasting the roof of his mouth. He let a sigh escape his throat in pleasure, but it didn’t last long when you bit down hard on his bottom lip, causing him to hiss. Blood trickled down his plumpy lip to his chin, but before it could touch the ground, you slowly- while keeping eye contact with Simon, you licked it up and cooed,

“Good boy…”

Like a shy school boy Simon’s cheeks were dusted with pink, his eyes not meeting yours anymore as he was filled with shame for his foolishness, and for how weak he was- falling into a Ghost’s trap so easily.

You then gripped his chin and gave him a last lecture, just for him to carry on.

“Next time you pull a gun on me to question my ability.. just remember I’m always two steps ahead of you- although fucking your gun was damn pleasurable. Oh and one last thing.. I specialize in seductiveness as a Ghost… this pussy gets answers every time. But no one has lived ‘till the end of it- but you..”

-I need help y’all-

[circe69]

[𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒] - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 “𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓”𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

taking a break from requests for a moment… need to make sure my brain still works 😵‍💫 you guys have been the sweetest to me lately and i do not deserve it!💕

tw/tags: very fluffy, strong tension, touching, sweet!ghost, you help put black paint around ghosts eyes.

꧁ ꧂ part 2 here!

you scurried your way down the dark hallway, trying to professionally remain calm but also escape from the ghosts and/or monsters that could potentially be chasing you. ghosts door was right as the end of the hall, all you had to do was make it there.

the door swung open before you even step within 10 feet of it, and you felt yourself take a few steps backwards as a result of how fast you halted.

your lieutenants masked face was the only thing you could see peeking out the door. “a pack of deaf dogs could hear ya coming from miles away,” he remarked, trying not to pay attention to your chest rising and falling as you placed a hand on it to quiet your heartbeat.

“it’s just” you took a minute to catch your breath, “so dark in here. it’s terrifying.”

his blank stare wasn’t as scary as it was attractive for you, but you could see the sarcasm just brewing. “you chose this job, and you’re afraid of hallways?” ghost stepped out of his door slightly, leaning against it with one shoulder and crossing his arms across his chest.

you rolled your eyes and placed two fingers on the bridge of your nose; not only at his comment, but at his stance. always asserting dominance, as if he needs to. the man could breath and people would run away in fear. he unfortunately loves it, lives for scaring people. but something about your presence made his exterior more calm, and somehow hilarious as he tries his best to flirt.

“yeah well, i was just coming to wish you good luck on your next mission. your heading back home, aren’t you? the ol’ manchester?” you tried to joke around, imitating a poorly constructed british accent, but it only made ghosts eyes close shut out of embarrassment.

once his eyes opened a few seconds later, they met yours. like truly met yours. his were deep brown, almost black crashing against the perfect white surrounding them. after a few seconds more of strange tension that only seemed to be building by the minute, he nodded his head towards inside your room.

“since you’re here,there’s something you could help me with, i suppose.” without another thought, you followed him inside his living quarters. as gruff and disorganized as the man seemed, his room was pristine; kept in almost perfect condition. a few pictures and souvenirs that i’m sure he’d argue “everyone else was getting one, so i had to” but the truth was, he loved collecting things. from seashells to postcards, he wanted them all. you wanted to ask about all his trinkets, but before you could, you were distracted by ghosts loud footsteps and the shedding of his outer layer.

he took off his vest and jacket, leaving only a black tee and his camouflage pants, and the sight made you almost anxious. seeing your lieutenant get comfortable? it was as unsettling as it was exciting for you, and the sight of his bare and inked forearms was enough to make you insane.

ghost walked over to his sink and mirror, and pulled the first drawer open. after digging through it and incidentally dropping a few things on his carpet, he grabbed a tube of black face paint and held it out to you.

“i need to put it around my eyes,” he said while pointing at his face, “for y’know, the mission.”

you smiled at his awkward but genuine words. it meant you were finally getting through to him, and that maybe all those times you tried to start conversations only for him to seem uninterested, maybe they were working.

“sure. sit down somewhere, you’re too tall.” you said, taking the tube of paint and following him to where he sat on a small couch.

it wasn’t until now that you realized what was about to happen. in order for you to put face-paint on ghost, he would have to take his mask off. therefore, you’d get to see what he looked like! therefore, he’d probably kill you if you ever told anyone or brought this up ever again.

you paused to look at him for a moment, "are you really gonna let me see you?"

he looked back up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your question. it conveyed that he didn't realize what he had to do either. no one had seen his face in years, he barely ever saw it himself. but regardless, ghost nodded and slowly slid off his mask after taking a long deep breath, showing his face in its entirety.

you shuddered out a breath before swallowing it, you hadn't thought you'd ever have the chance to see his face, but all of it made perfect sense. his features aligned with another as if he was painted, or sculpted from clay. you had to control yourself not to run along the lines of his thick cheekbones and strong jaw.

squeezing out a bit of blank paint, you took it between your fingers and hesitantly started going over his eyes. they closed once your fingers made contact with his face, and an involuntary sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth. after years, you were all he could think about. he almost hated himself for it; there hadn't been a single person or thing that distracted him from his work as much as you did. but as time passed, all he wanted was for you to touch him and not be afraid like everyone else was.

you carefully smeared the staining liquid along his upper face, being sure not to get it too close to his eyes. he couldn't remember the last time someone was this gentle with him, but he wouldn't have expected anything else coming from you.

once you finished, you took a minute to just gaze at him. eyes closed peacefully, as if he had never known fear or danger, as if you were the safest person he could think of. he'd never admit it, but he would run to you from danger in a heartbeat out of pure selfishness and admiration, and you'd do the same for him.

you tapped him on his thigh to signal you were done, with the paint as well as the staring. you tried to memorize every part of him, every inch that was covered in freckles or scars that he probably hated but that you loved.

his eyes slowly opened, finding yours immediately. "thanks," he said in a quiet tone, trying to break eye contact but just not being able to. there's no where he'd rather be right now, and the fact is, that he planned the whole thing. you running down the hallway, you wishing him farewell, he knew you'd do it so he prepared, knowing very well this could be the last time he ever got to see you.

"y/n, i need to tell you something." ghost said as you stood from your spot on the coffee table across from him, wiping the paint off on your jeans. the question caused you to pause and slowly sit back down, "yeah, what's up?"

he cleared his throat a few times before carrying on, “i think-”

all the sudden, his door was banged on before captain price entered.

“ghost. get your things, we’re leaving early.”

[syluscore]

Every Version of You (3)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SONGS: To the End - My Chemical Romance and Broken Smile (My All) - Lil Peep

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART THREE: self-deprecating, angst, anxiety, depression, yelling, feelings of insignificance, death, talking about death, feelings of love, love confessions, mentions of wanting to die, arguing, teasing, anger, blood, bleeding out, descriptions of blood on skin, loss of hopes and dreams, trauma, tension

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce , @greywardensaywhat , @kennedyswhore , @all-mights-babygirl , @weasleytwinscumslut , @pinkrose1422 , @british-mint-bunny

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" THREE

Rookie sits on the cold floor with his back pressed against an even colder cement wall. But he feels uncomfortably warm with you sitting right next to him leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s been an hour since he watched your random make out session with his older self. It stirred up feelings within himself that he’s not sure he wants to address. But sitting here in silence, there’s nothing else for him to really do. Of course his mind is wandering, threatening to burst out of his skull completely if he doesn’t suffocate the flames.

You’re not in any better state of mind. He feels less like a pussy seeing you struggle to process and cope with everything, just as he is, but he also wants to take it all away from you. He hates seeing you in so much pain, so torn up inside that all you can do is stare off blankly. He knows he’s useless to you right now. He’s staring off blankly at the same wall, so how in the hell could he ever be comforting to you?

Rookie never considered himself to be an overly anxious person, but right now, he feels like he merely exists as a cloud of anxiety over the room. 

He’s an insignificant man; he knows he isn’t destined for anything revolutionary or some sort of infamy. He’s looking at this older, well seasoned version of himself and doesn’t see how he could ever get to such a point in his life.

How is he supposed to meet the expectations layed out for him by his future self? Surviving apocalypses, outbreaks, and man made horrors? Somehow prevailing against all odds? He’s just Leon Kennedy, not a superhero. He’s been destined for failure since the day he was born. And yet, he’s somehow supposed to save lives and possibly even the world?

No wonder you freaking died! He’s irresponsible and not the leader type. He’s meant to do as he’s told and never fall out of line. That’s what Leon Kennedy is good at, not whatever this bullshit is. Time travel, for fuck’s sake? He’s entirely out of his element.

Then, he has to stand here quietly and watch as older Leon makes out with you. He sees this devotion and utter adoration in his eyes when he looks at you and it feels so foreign to him. That’s supposed to be him–he’s supposed to feel like that? Maybe not now, but one day? He’s capable of such a thing?

You’re a nice girl and everything, but he doesn’t know you all that well and he’s supposed to just accept that there’s something written in the stars between the two of you? How the fuck is he supposed to feel?

With the knowledge he now possesses, how is he supposed to authentically experience anything ever again? How does he naturally fall in love with you or know that he is in love with you, when in the back of his mind he knows he’s meant to? How does he go about his normal life, knowing an outbreak is coming and not to go running for the hills? Everything feels wrong–is everything wrong?

In all of the cheesy movies he’s seen about time travel, they say that this is the way timelines are destroyed. Is he responsible for completely fucking up the natural trajectory of the world? Maybe not this version of himself, but he still feels complicit. Something, or some things rather, happen to him and he’s messed up enough to be willing to destroy the world and society as we know it. What gives him the right–what makes him significant enough to do something so major?

Nothing has made sense since they showed up and pulled him from his life and timeline. He’s so overwhelmed and it’s only been a day or two since he was taken from his average life. 

You’re also overwhelmed and overthinking everything, but for very different reasons.

You’re sure of your feelings for Leon. When you thought he was dying, those feelings forced their way to the surface and demanded to be acknowledged. You could lie and blame it on the traumatic situation, but deep down, you know those feelings have always been there. It was easy to admit to them in the moment, simply because falling in love with Leon is one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. 

Now that you know Leon had to endure the same exact thing, except you actually died, it’s a hard pill to swallow to put it mildly. That’s not even mentioning the fact that you’re meant to die. You’re supposed to drop dead in what, a few weeks or maybe a few months? It fills you with an existential dread that you’ve never felt before. 

This must be how people feel when they’re told they only have a few months to live. The finality of it, the inevitability of it, fills you with a helpless feeling you desperately wish you didn’t have to address.

You keep replaying the conversation between you and Leon over and over and over. No matter how hard you try to push it out of your head, all you can hear are his words.

“...A life without you isn’t a life worth living for me.”

Dying? What the fuck is he talking about?

You pull yourself out of his grasp and force as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Leon speaks again. “I’m sorry. I know that’s a lot to process, but it’s my truth. I just needed you to know that.”

“I’m going to die?” Your voice is shaky, showing the nerves you’re trying to push down.

Leon shakes his head. “Not if I have anything to do with it. Hindsight is 20/20. If I have to sacrifice myself to save you, then I’m sorry I couldn’t live for you. But I’d choose you over absolutely anything any day. I’m nothing without you and I know you’d find happiness in this world, even without me. You’re resilient and beautiful and captivating. The world would bend to your will just to keep you.”

Your mouth falls open and all you can do is stare at him. You’re not one to ever be speechless, but you keep finding yourself in this state.

“How did it feel when you thought I died? Did you feel that emptiness–that helplessness? Do you understand how it feels now?”

“Not you. My Leon. And I’d rather not discuss how it felt, but thanks anyway I guess.” You avoid his eyes, but you have something else you need to say. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

You’re referring to the kiss and Leon recognizes that immediately.

“You’re serious?” He scoffs at you.

You scoff right back at him, “Yeah I’m fucking serious. You may be Leon’s older self, but you’re not my Leon. My feelings are for him.”

You feel like you betrayed him. Whether it’s his older self or his younger self or whoever, your loyalty belongs to your Leon. Fuck every other timeline besides yours and his. It’s the only timeline you give a shit about. 

“I’ll try to be patient with you. I know I’ve had a lot more time to process the dynamic of what’s happening, but my love for you is unconditional. I love every version of you. In every past life, this life, the next one, and the one after that.”

“We’ll be able to wake Leon shortly. He just needs to… marinate a bit longer for lack of a better term,” Luis snaps you from your thoughts.

You nod at him. The emotions are eating you up from the inside out and you’re starting to feel numb and disconnected. 

“Hey,” Chris speaks up this time. “You’re not going to die. We’re here for the sole purpose of saving you. We won’t let anything happen to you. It’d be a waste of time for all of us if we let you die anyway.”

His last sentence is humorous and even though you try not to laugh, you can’t stop the huff of breath that leaves you.

“What if we can’t save me? Or what if we destroy the world by messing with the timeline or something? What if God comes down and smites us all? If you believe in any of that. Whatever divine presence you could possibly believe in, it doesn’t change anything. How can we know anything we do will change fate?” 

The word vomit just keeps tumbling past your lips. You can’t help it. You’re terrified. You’re anxious. You’re every negative feeling to ever be translated into this language.

“We’ve succeeded before with a whole lot less,” Luis explains. “I’m supposed to be dead, yet I’m very much alive.” He does jazz hands. As if he didn’t just casually mention they’ve done the time travel thing before and it’s the only reason he’s standing here. He treats it like you’re discussing what to order for fucking lunch.

“He was the trial run,” Leon explains while shrugging. “Sort of like a crash test dummy. We weren’t going to put you through this without knowing if it could actually work. Plus he’s a scientist, or whatever.”

“Jee, thanks amigo.”

Chris’ lips thin as he fails to hold back a laugh.

“For Christ’s sake, what now?” Leon spits out at Chris.

“I think he calls us amigo to remind us how white we are. A more accurate translation of his amigos would be his white people. It’s funny.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” you butt in and Leon’s head whips in your direction, shooting you a death glare. You throw your hands up in the air to feign your innocence, but he just shakes his head at you.

“Amigos, why must we always argue?” 

Chris responds, “See, Leon? He’s not denying it. He’s patronizing us-”

“What the fuck are you talking about-”

“Hey!” Luis yells over the two of them. “Kiss and make up, will you? We got shit to take care of.”

Both men finally quiet down; Leon getting one more dirty look in at Chris before shifting his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“Any way,” Luis looks back at you, “These two managed to get their hands on the technology to come back and intervene in my…ending. But the side effects are pretty brutal. I’ve spent a lot of time researching and altering our methods.”

“The mechanics were terrible,” Chris grimaces.

“What gave you that idea? The fact that we almost killed ourselves in the process?” Leon scowls.

Rookie finally speaks up. “Is he always like this?”

“Hope not,” you mumble.

“As I was saying,” Luis once again has to bring everyone’s attention back to the actual discussion. “Your mission will be delayed due to an urgent matter. The president’s daughter is kidnapped and Leon will be sent to retrieve her. I was meant to die on that mission.”

Leon finishes the story for Luis.

“Then, I get back and we go on with our assignment and everything goes wrong. You die, I barely survive, it’s a shitshow. But now Luis is alive and we’ve figured our shit out, so now we can go on with our actual initiative; saving the girl who somehow considers me a different person.”

“Sorry this is a weird situation we’ve found ourselves in.” You snap at him and he gives you a look of complete surprise at the outburst.

And then, Leon laughs. It’s a humorless laugh as he cradles his face in his hands. You’re completely confused at his reaction and you know it’s showing in your expression.

When his head whips back up, his eyes instantly meet yours, your heart stops and you’re actually startled by the angry expression on his face.

“You died in my fucking arms!” He shouts and the whole room falls into silence. 

You can’t bring yourself to look away from him. You wish the world would swallow you up and remove you from this situation. Or maybe if you could fold in on yourself until you ceased to exist right before his very eyes. Anything to not feel the intensity in the heat of his stare. 

You don’t know what to say. What the fuck do you say to that? I’m sorry for dying? It wasn’t my intention to do so? Thank you? Glad you could join me there? 

“Can we have a moment alone?” His words express a question, but his tone iterates it as a demand not to be argued against.

The other three men quietly leave the room. As they walk away, you silently plead for one of them to stay–to not leave you alone to face his wrath and fury on your own. 

But your prayers go unanswered as Rookie gives you a sympathetic look before closing the door behind him.

You stare down at your hands as you fiddle with your finger nails. You don’t know which would be worse, the deafening silence or him actually speaking to you. Do you even want to know what he has to say to you? He’s furious, to put it mildly, and you dread the fact that he might take it out on you. Leon wouldn't do that though–or would he? Do you even know anything at all anymore?

He sighs heavily before walking over to you, sitting next to you on the floor. He takes over Rookie’s old spot, his presence much more crowding than he younger counterpart.

He takes your left hand in his much larger hands. You feel so small with the way your hand ceases to exist between his. It’s scary, it’s overwhelming, it’s comforting. It’s a perfect fucking fit is what it is.

“I don’t mean to be so angry. I don’t want to be, but I can’t control it anymore. I’m so fucking angry.” He speaks to you quietly.

“Why?” Your voice is even quieter than his. It comes out barely above a whisper.

“You were bleeding out in my arms. Your blood covered my entire chest and was dripping off of my arms. And it was so warm; it’s like I can still feel it coating my skin.”

You finally turn your head to look at him, but he’s still looking ahead. You bring your other hand to his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently. You silently encourage him to go on and he finally sighs, relenting.

“I could feel the life leaving your body, could feel you weakening against me. And in that moment, even though you knew you were dying and there was nothing we could do, you were comforting me. Assuring me that I’d be okay.”

Your lips form a sad smile, because you know that that is absolutely what you would do in that situation. Even as you lay there dying, half way in his arms and half way in the grim reapers, you’d want to make sure he was okay. You’d want to assure him that everything would be fine for him even though it wasn’t for you. It wouldn’t matter if you could accept the fact that you were dying or not; you’d want to comfort him with the fact that you were at peace with it. All for his sake.

“And then you were just,” He looks over at you and releases a heavy breath, “Gone. You stopped bleeding and your blood slowly dried into my skin. The blood went cold on me. And I knew there was nothing I could’ve done to save you, but I wanted that warm feeling back. I wished you were still bleeding out in my arms and that your warm blood was running down my body, just so that I could have even a few more seconds with you.”

You nod your head as you listen to him. He probably takes it as you encouraging him to talk about it and release it from his system, but it’s more than that to you. You understand how he felt. You would’ve jumped into the vat of liquid with Leon just to have those last moments with him. You hated the thought of him dying alone in there and you would’ve given anything to hold him in your arms that one last time.

“You know, I denied my feelings for you until the bitter end. I sat there with your lifeless body and that was when I finally allowed myself to admit I was in love with you. I was forced to acknowledge all of those emotions I’d refused to for so long. All I could do was whisper to you how much I loved you even though I knew you were no longer there to hear it.”

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry it took you bleeding out in my arms for me to finally speak the words of what I knew all along. I still feel the pain every goddamn day. I spent every minute after that wishing I would’ve just died with you.”

You pull your hands from his and bring them up to his face, holding his cheeks in your palms and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“I know,” your voice waivers. “I know because it was the same for me. Felt like the fucking world was ending. I just knew that I loved you so much, and that I would never get to love you while you were alive.”

Leon wrapped his arms around you and you wrapped yours around him. You clung to each other so tightly, your souls might have actually merged together right there in that basement. It didn’t matter how complicated the situation was, because you two understood each other. And that’s all that really mattered in that moment.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After a while, everyone is back in the basement. Chris, Luis, and Leon are gathered around the control panel, talking amongst themselves. You and Rookie are once again left to your own devices.

He hasn’t spoken much and just by the lost look on his face, you can see his mind running a thousand miles per hour.

“Hey,” Rookie’s attention is immediately on you, as if he was just waiting for you to speak to him. “I know it’s probably not comforting at all, but um, the version of me in your time is oblivious to everything too. We haven’t gone through life altering atrocities together yet. If she was brought here, I think she’d have shut down completely. Like, fuck, I’m still trying not to shut down completely.”

Rookie smiles at your attempt to calm his mind, like an actual smile. His actual smile versus the ones he fakes are so different, it’s like night and day. And you’d do anything to see his real smile, so you continue.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, having your dream ripped from you is devastating. Having to let go of everything you thought you’d have? Processing the world being completely different then how you always knew it to be? It’s miserable. It doesn’t matter if you save the entire world, you’ll never feel like a hero. But you are a hero, Leon. Nothing will ever lessen the burdens that are yours alone to bear and for that, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he says before leaning his head on your shoulder, the opposite of your earlier position. When you were leaning on his shoulder in a subconscious need to be close to him.

“I think I’ll always mourn the life I wanted for myself. You know, the fulfilling career, finding my soulmate, the white picket fence. Can’t forget the house full of well behaved kids,” you huff out a laugh. “My dream is simple now, but seems so much harder to attain than my previous ones.”

“And what’s that?”

“To be happy.”

Rookie looks up at you, a solemn look on his face.

“Is it okay if I steal that dream and make it mine too?”

“Well, of course. Gotta shoot for the stars, right?”

You smile at each other, your smile only grows recognizing his genuine smile. And you stare at each other longer than what would be considered normal. But the longer you stare at each other, the harder you find it to look away.

In his eyes, you see every version of Leon and the feeling growing inside of your chest is foreign and new to you. Because he’s still your Leon, just the younger version. And the Leon leaning against the cement wall as he watches Luis and Chris argue over something on the control panel, is your Leon too. You have no fucking idea what to make of this realization.

You’re not sure how much time passes, when a throat clears, pulling you and Rookie’s attention over to the other men.

“His calibration is done,” Chris announces. “We can wake him up now.”

[hina-hina]

If you're still doing requests could we get HC's of Ghost or Soap who've fallen in love with fem!reader whos a selective mute and a new recruit to the 141? Perhaps theyre even the sweetest person he's ever met and it's instant heart eyes?

I myself rarely talk and I've found it gets a lot of stares from people, men especially which is weird but warranted I suppose?

Hello friend, this is sooo cute!! (❤´艸｀❤) I'm so sorry people did that to you just because you don't speak. Just like anyone, your worthy of love and deserve to be treated kindly! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it!!!

|| Ghost + Soap With a Selective Mute S/O ||

Warnings: Military!Reader,

Female!Reader // Romantic

Can't believe i didn't use this gif when it was actually Christmas, shame on me

|| Ghost

So, I 100% see Ghost as the type of guy to be like "I don't care what you do as long as you can get the job done"

So he feels quite indifferent to the fact your selectively mute

But whenever he starts to get to know you more? He is gone

He starts to notice you silently doing small things for him without ever expecting anything in return

Which isn't something he is very used to

Things like you bringing him tea (made the british way because he won't drink it otherwise), helping him with his gear, etc.

You even once repaired his mask for him

He would set about learning sign language for you (If that's something you use)

And of course he struggled and got frustrated but it was all worth it for the look on your face when he says "thank you" in sign language

He also is quite the biggest fan of your company because he too is a man of few words

You two enjoy just sitting in each others presence, just coexisting without the need to show out for the other

It's very comfortable

If you ever felt comfortable enough to speak with him, he would be in awe

Honestly, you start to feel anxious because he is just staring at you blankly

After you prompting, he would eventually clear his throat, thankful that his mask hides his rising flush

"Your voice is.... very pretty..."

How can you help but to lean up and press a kiss to his masked cheek?

|| Soap

He would be a little questioning at first

But after a sharp look from Price, he immediately fixes his expression

He would quickly see why you were just as capable as anyone else on the force when he sees you in action

Absolutely loves how sweet you are despite everything you go through day to day

He is so thankful when you do things for him

Would also try to learn sign language if it's something you use, even though his attempts come out a bit uncoordinated

He is very protective of you and will quickly glare and ward others off if they look at you weird

He introduces you to his journal and encourages you to have one as well

Finds himself pondering what your voice sounds like often

He has a whole spread in his journal with sketches of you and notes on what he thinks you sound like

He would never push you to talk however

If you did decide to talk, he is all smiles

"Quite the voice ya have there, Hen. Pure dead brilliant."

Could barely stop himself from kissing you when he sees your bashful smile

Thankfully, you beat him to it

As always, thank you for all the support, whether it be likes, reblogs or replies! I'm thankful for everyone of you and I'm glad you enjoy what I like! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[msmk11]

I saw that you wanted some tangerine requests. I'd say I'm pretty good at requesting those🤓☝️.

OK, so I really like this concept.

Tangerine and reader have met before. Maybe it was at a gala. Maybe it was on a mission, I'm just gonna leave that open to you. But the point is, they have had multiple meetings before. Maybe they flirted on the mission or maybe they just got into a fight, again leaving that for you.

Basically, Lemon Tangerine and Reader have all been assigned to do a mission. And before that mission happens, they're planning at a dinner ( They don't really have the worry about blowing their cover because the diners kind of like in assassin's diner where assassins can meet up)

And a scene like this happens (ripping off of pulp fiction) And instead of talking about the pilot, he brings up her career as an assassin.

https://youtu.be/O3tGImqhrMo?si=1FVe6VFQSvZC7UfR

They flirt, they plan, Lemon feels awkward

And they both leave thinking about each other. I love this concept so much!!!!

Sorry for any grammar mistakes

I’m Sorry, Thank You, I’ll Always Protect You

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.5k

CW: lots of cursing, mention of weapons and blood, mentions of food, mention of alcohol, smoking (just cigarettes), mentions of death/fighting (it’s a Tan fic for goodness sake)

Author’s Note: Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you enjoy! (This fic is also proof that I can’t write briefly for the life of me.) (also, side note, for the sake of the fic, your codename is viper)

The charming classical music playing softly in the background hardly matches your agitated mood. Your handler had just given you a new mission. One that, to your dismay, was not a one-man job, but rather, required you to work with partners. You always preferred to work alone because having a partner could get messy fast. Whether it was because they were too gutsy, not gutsy enough, or they were a cocky, arrogant asshole, you’d been thrust into one too many less-than-desirable situations because of the interference of a partner. Therefore, going into this mission, you are, rightfully, hesitant, and you pray that you haven’t been partnered with a total fucking idiot.

You anxiously check your watch for the umpteenth time, drumming your fingers on the dark, wooden table. Your new partners are not late, yet, but the dread pooling in your stomach makes you anxious to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

“Viper?” A deep, heavily British voice declares.

“That’s me,” you say, looking up. And then your voice dies in your throat.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell,” the man in front of you curses.

It’s him. That arrogant bastard you’ve had the unfortunate luck of working with before. His twin is here too, of course, and you’re thankful for the slightly more pleasant company.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite twins, Peanut Butter and Jelly,” you drawl.

Peanut Butter and Jelly- your own personal nicknames for the twins. Ones that, to your delight, really pissed off the brunette.

“Told you not to fucking call us that,” the mustached man grumbles, sliding into the booth across from you.

His brother follows after him, and you notice the smirk he is trying to hide, “You’re just mad that you’ve been dubbed Jelly.”

“Yeah, ‘cos everyone bloody knows that peanut butter is the better part of the fucking sandwich. And I’m the better twin, obviously, so I should be peanut butter” he growls.

“The masses would disagree, Jelly, you fucking prick,” you retort.

His jaw tenses and you can’t help but revel in the feeling of getting him all worked up.

“Well aren’t you still a fucking daisy,” he replies.

“And as charming as always,” his brother adds, winking.

“Always a pleasure to see you PB. Though I suppose I can’t call you that on the job. What’ll your code name be this time?”

“I’m Lemon,” he responds, “and my brother here is going by Tangerine.”

You snort, “like the fucking fruits?”

Tangerine glares at you, “Yes, like the fucking fruits. What’s so funny about it?”

You hum and sigh dramatically, “I don’t know, Tan, it just seems a little silly, don’t you think? I mean, I can see Lemon being intimidating, because you never know what you’re gonna get with one. But Tangerine sounds pathetic, really. It’s the snack of grubby-handed children.”

You’re pretty sure his mustache twitches, and his hands certainly close into fists, “It’s sophisticated, yeah? Classic. No one likes fucking lemons.”

You feign mock offense, “I do. I like lemons a lot, actually. Tangerines, not so much.”

“Well sorry if I don’t really value your fucking opinion,” he spits out.

“I like lemons too, mate,” Lemon tells him.

“Well fuck me then.”

In your most teasing, seductive voice you reply, “Later baby, we have work to do first.”

Tangerine chokes on his spit and you hide your smirk as you pick up the menu.

Lemon coughs uncomfortably as he follows suit, “so what’ll it be tonight? We’re paying.”

“Like fucking hell we’re paying for her,” Tangerine protests.

Though you can’t see it, the grimace that flickers across the brunette’s face tells you that Lemon has kicked him in the shin, “Be fucking polite will ya, brotha’? Can’t go around dressed like that and then not pay for people.”

Lemon isn’t wrong. Every time you’ve seen Tangerine, he’s been dressed to the nines, fitted in the finest of suits and decked out in gold bling. It’s a wonder to you that he ever dresses nicely at all, considering all the blood that ends up on him by the end of a mission.

The brother with frosted tips, you think, has always had more swagger and appropriate mission-clothing. He is usually dressed more casually in a jean jacket and semi-formal shirt. Tonight, it’s a blue button-up with a Thomas the Tank Engine tie.

Before Tangerine can make some nasty reply, the waitress appears at the table asking if you’re ready to order. It’s a sight to behold, watching the cocky douche switch from his true, unpleasant self to a polite British gentleman.

“Yes, darling. I’ll take the steak, medium rare, and a whiskey f’me, please.”

You’re not surprised he orders a fucking steak, and, for some reason, it really pisses you off. While Lemon orders a burger and fries, you scan the menu looking to order whatever will tick him off the most.

“And what’ll it be for you, ma’am,” she says to you.

“I’ll have the most expensive thing on the menu, please,” you tell her sweetly. And then, you motion to your counterpart, “Tangerine here is paying tonight, and said to treat myself. Quite the doll, isn’t he?”

Tangerine masks his grimace with a charming smile, one that makes the waitress blush a little.

“Only the best for you, love” he says through gritted teeth.

You ignore the way your heart flutters the teeniest bit at the nickname.

When the waitress walks away with your menus, the brunette merely glares at you.

You only give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Thank you, Tan. You’re awfully generous.”

He inhales sharply, trying to stay calm.

“If ya didn’t have such a pretty face, I think I’d punch ya right now. Lucky for you, darling.”

“Lucky for you too, I guess. Wouldn’t want my blood to ruin your shiny, new bling,” you retort, judgmental eyes trailing down to his adorned fingers.

“Right well,” Lemon interrupts, “can we get down to business? Please. You two’s bickering is making my hair whiter than it already is.”

Tangerine bites his tongue and nods while you just smirk.

Lemon turns to you, “Viper, I’m sure you got the briefing?”

You nod.

“I can tell this job is gonna be a lot more fucking difficult than our last one. We gotta save one person from a whole ass gang. It’s gonna be bloody.”

You lean back casually in your seat and cross your arms, “Won’t be a problem for me, Lemon. These sorts of jobs are my speciality.”

You dig through your bag beside you and pull out a pack of cigarettes. You put one to your lips and then curse, “Bollocks, forgot my lighter. Either of you happen to have one on you?”

Lemon shakes his head, “Nah, don’t smoke. Already put my life at risk everyday for my job. Not about to tease fate with those killers.”

The cigarette hangs loosely between your lips and you smile lazily at him, “to each their own, I guess. Tangerine?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and smirks, “Might, if you give me a cig.”

You roll your eyes at him and sigh. You pull out another cigarette and give it to him. He pops it in his mouth and then pulls out a silver lighter from his suit pocket. He flicks it on with one try and holds the lighter to the tip. It lights and smoke pours out. You watch the way his pink lips blow out a ring of smoke, and it’s for much longer than you’d ever admit. He takes another long, slow drag and you know that he’s testing your patience. As much as you want to nag him to hurry up, you don’t, knowing that if you did, he’d only purposely take longer. Finally, he holds out the lighter towards you. You go to take it from him and he swiftly pulls it back.

“Like fucking hell you’ll take this, love. This here is my nicest lighter, and I’m not going to let you fucking break it.”

You huff, “Fine, fine. Do whatever the hell you want.” And under your breath you mutter, “Asshat.”

You lean across the table, cigarette between your lips, and he reaches out to light it. The tiny flame pops up, and his hand gets so close to your mouth that if you moved forward just a little bit, your lips would connect with his skin. It isn’t an unpleasant thought, and that’s what disturbs you the most. Once it’s lit, you quickly pull away and take a long drag. You close your eyes and let the smoke work its way into your lungs, calming you.

“So for the mission,” you sigh, taking another inhale of smoke, “I think one of you two needs to be in charge of getting the hostage, so I can help take out the mob.”

“Yeah bloody right,” Tangerine argues, “Lemon and I are a team. You’re not fucking spliting us up.”

You lean forward and narrow your eyes at him, “For the sake of this mission, we’re a team. And if you have a fucking problem with that, Tangerine, I’m going to have a fucking problem with you.”

Tangerine is about to spit something else at you when Lemon interferes.

“That’s enough bickering from you two. We all have to work together, whether you like it or not. So you two best sort yourselves out now, because I swear to god, if I die ‘cos you two can’t get your shit together, I’m going to come back and kill you both.”

You turn and look at Lemon seriously, “Last I recall, I was the one that almost fucking died last time because of your shithead brother.”

(flashback)

Though it had been nearly three years since your last mission together, you could remember that night clear as day. It’d been a double-profit job- you three were assigned to attend a charity gala and steal a diamond necklace being auctioned off while also partaking in a little shill bidding to hike up the price of the necklace. A heist/scam job, in your opinion, was an easy cash-grab in comparison to your usual missions as an assassin. Tangerine and Lemon had thought so too. The plan had been simple: you and Tangerine would appear at the auction as a wealthy couple interested in buying the necklace, and drive the bidding price way up. The highest bidder would pay a hell of a lot more than the necklace was worth, and that chunk of money would go straight into the pockets of your employer.

Lemon, on the other hand, had gotten hired to be a part of the auction staff, which gave him the chance to switch out the diamonds for a fake.

You’d shown up that night in a sleek, midnight blue dress that hugged your curves and shimmered slightly like the night sky. Tangerine had worn a suit that matched in color, though it was adorned with white stripes. He’d looked really bloody good that evening and you’d hated him for it. It’d left you feeling just a little flustered and distracted- a dangerous mindset to be in on a job. The early half of the night should’ve been easy. All you’d had to do was lay on the charm thick with the wealthy folks and spread the word that the shiny, new couple was interested in the diamond necklace. Greedy as that lot was, you and Tangerine had known that you two’s feigned interest in the necklace would get it a lot of bidders.

As it turned out, the job hadn’t been so easy, not because the objective had been hard, but because Tangerine’s hands had been all over you all night. Deep down, you’d known it was all part of the appearance you were putting on, but after a while, his touching had started to get to you. The horny part of you had been delighted to have his big, calloused hands on your back and bare shoulders. But the other, more serious side of you had been uncomfortable with his touch. As a woman in the field, you’d rarely been taken seriously and were often only seen as a piece of meat. In that moment you had begun to feel the same. It’d felt like Tangerine was showing you off saying, “look how sexy and wonderful my (fake) wife is”. And as the night had progressed, those two conflicting emotions had come crashing together, leaving you angry and overwhelmed.

The auction had set off without a hitch, and the two of you had braced yourself when the diamond necklace was brought out. Once the bidding war had started, all eyes were on you two, and Tangerine’s hand had casually made its way to your thigh. That, for some reason, had been your breaking point, and you’d hissed under your breath, “Get your hand off my fucking thigh, now.”

Tangerine had only been half paying attention, too focused on the bidding going on, and so he’d only mumbled, “quiet, darling.”

That had really pissed you off and you’d begun to curse at him under your breath. You’d gone to force his hand off your thigh, and that’s when shit had hit the fan. You’d looked down for one second, and then you were on the floor, Tangerine on top of you. There’s been shouts and screams and the loud bangs of gunshots. Bewildered, you’d tried to sit up, but had instantly hissed in pain. Everything had happened so fast, you hadn't noticed the bullet that had grazed your side. The one that, you would later learn, had been aimed right at your chest until Tangerine saved you. It seemed your mission had been leaked, and people had been sent to take you three out. Though you’d only been grazed, your counterpart had forced you to stay in hiding while he’d run off to take care of the last of the men.

When the job had been finished, Tangerine had hauled you up and out to the side of the building where Lemon had been waiting with the car. It was only when you’d driven a few miles away that the shock had finally settled and was replaced with fear, anger, shame, and embarrassment. And instead of dealing with your emotions healthily, you’d lashed out at Tangerine. You and him had gotten into a screaming match- you’d blamed him for invading your space and treating you like a wounded animal and he’d called you negligent and over-emotional. The night hadn’t ended in any reconciliation, and he’d been a thorn in your side ever since.

It seemed like he always popped up at the most inconvenient times, often messing with your missions or just plain pissing you off.

Those past three years of tension culminated into your hatred for him today, and the fact that he’d somehow gotten more handsome since the last time you’d seen him didn’t help either.

(Back to present)

“Oh bloody ‘ell, here we go again,” Lemon curses.

But then, the unexpected happened.

You’re tense, biting words already at the tip of your tongue, ready to argue whatever point Tangerine makes.

Instead, he quietly says, “I wasn’t ever gonna let you die, love.”

Your heart literally stops beating in your chest for a moment, and you swear that his gaze softens a little.

“I was aware of our surroundings the whole time, and also knew you were off your game that night. Your death was never an option. I wasn’t going to allow it.”

You begin to butt in, trying to defend why you were off your game

Tangerine only interrupts you, “And you don’t need to explain to me or anyone why you were off your game. You just gotta trust that we also know what we’re doing. And you gotta trust that I- we- got your back. It’s also why I think you should be in charge of the hostage. It’s safest if Lemon and I work together to protect you while you go for ‘em. Anyhow, you yourself have said that ya work best alone .”

He turns to you and Lemon with a slightly vulnerable look on his face, “No one’s dying on this mission, I swear by it.”

If Tangerine couldn’t already tell that you and Lemon are slightly shocked by his emotional outburst, the silence that follows certainly does. You hold Tangerine’s gaze, his blue eyes piercing into yours, and a series of words seem to be exchanged:

I’m sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

Thank you.

I’ll always protect you.

In your peripheral you see Lemon shift uncomfortably in his seat and you cough, finally breaking eye contact with Tangerine and taking another drag of your cigarette.

Tangerine inhales deeply through his nose and takes a drag too.

Then he says, “Although I know you could take those men out quickly, Viper, I think we’ll work better as a team if Lemon and I can simultaneously take the guards out while you move ahead. We basically have twin telepathy and work like a well-oiled machine. Plus, you can most easily hold your own if you run into anyone on your way to the hostage.”

You wave him off, “No need to flatter me, Tangerine. You two could hold your own just as well.”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” he tells you, “Everyone’s been talking about your job in Peru.”

“Ah my moment of glory,” you say with a smirk and a roll of your eyes, “pretty sure I peaked then.”

Tangerine smiles at you a little, an actual, genuine smile, “What was it actually like, that mission? People tend to always fucking throw things out of proportion.”

“It was a solo mission where I was just supposed to take out the CEO of my client’s rival company and her guards. But it ended up being an ambush. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, of course, but Christ, it was bloody.”

“And how’d you do it all by yourself?”

“With a knife and a gun. See, im pretty good with knives. Can throw ‘em, stab, slice, the likes. I even tried something new with a knife on that mission, out of necessity.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you impatiently as he blows out another puff of smoke, “What was it?”

“Nah, too gory,” you say calmly, taking another drag of your cig.

“Love, I’m a fucking assassin too, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Using a knife, it’s different from a gun, Tangerine. It’s a lot more cruel and I’d rather not tell it to you,” you reply somewhat shyly.

“A hundred other people already know though,” he counters, “and it might change what I think of you.”

You pause, thinking over your next words carefully, “that’s what I’m afraid of. I know we’re in a nasty business, but I’d rather not have my partners think I’m a monster.”

Tangerine puts his cigarette out on the windowsill and looks at you softly, “that’s not what I meant and you know it. It’d only make me respect you more, not less.”

And then, he adds, with a teasing smirk, “not that I could respect you any less than I already do.”

You roll your eyes and suppress a giggle. A fucking giggle.

“Well I’d rather not risk it. And anyways, there’s too much pressure, now that I’ve built it all up.”

“Fucking tease,” he whispers playfully, and kicks your leg lightly under the table.

You hide your blush under the guise of looking down to put out your cigarette. When you look up, you catch Tangerine’s gaze again, and the tension is palpable.

When the waitress suddenly arrives with the food, Lemon vocalizes exactly what you’re thinking, “oh thank god. Jesus Christ.”

You dig-in to whatever the fuck you ordered, using it as a distraction from Tangerine.

*****

The rest of the dinner is quiet and, as promised, Tangerine pays. Lemon leads the way out, and you’re acutely aware of every movement of your body as Tangerine walks behind you. When you get to the door, he grabs it from Lemon before you can, and he’s so close to you his cologne makes you woozy.

When you make it out to the parking lot, Tangerine sends Lemon off to find the car while he escorts you to yours. Though you unlock your car, he opens the door for you. As you get settled, he leans against the roof, and it makes his muscles bulge deliciously.

“You be safe tonight, Viper, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

You nod, “goodnight, Jelly, don’t miss me too much.”

He winks at you, “I won’t, cos I’ll see you in my dreams tonight.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, but internally your stomach does flips.

Tangerine watches as you pull away, a sort of ache in his chest. Lemon pulls up in the car and he gets in, still thinking about you. Before he has a moment to process anything, Lemon smacks him upside the head.

“Ow, fucking shit,” he curses, “what the bloody hell was that for?”

“For being fucking whipped for The Viper, you dumb shit.”

[milliondollarwomen]

Well Hello

tom blyth x fem reader

word count 1.9k

mature content 18+

https://www.tumblr.com/daemonslover/740468521162653696/well-hello-part-2?source=share

Part 2 ^^^^^

overview: you meet him and the bar and he has to claim you.

hey y’all this is my first time writing like this! so please let me know if you guys liked it.

As you entered the bar, you could hear people talking and drinks clinking. A captivating figure was leaning casually on the counter. His commanding British accent drew you in right away. You decide to head over his way to see if he will notice you and as you stand next him waiting for the bartender he looks at you. "Well, hello," this mysterious man greets me. His smile is charming without being overly cheesy and he possesses dark curly hair that isn't too curly, along with the most stunning blue eyes you've ever laid eyes on. He was probably wondering why I did not react after I stared at him for a while.

"Hi" you responded not knowing what to do or how to act and all he did was say hello but already you felt anxious. "Are you from around here, love?" The way it slipped from his lips, love, was enough to make you melt. "No, I just moved here for graduate school. I'm going to NYU, and you?" When you told him you were a graduate student, he tilted his head slightly, which made you wonder what it was about that interested him; however, you refrained from making too much of it. "Ah well, congratulations, but yes, I am, and I've been here for quite some time,"

you were intrigued and wanted to learn more about him. As he spoke, he sipped from his cup; you couldn't help but notice the way he held it, how it landed on his lips, and how his Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed. It was enough to make your mouth water. It was puzzling to you how a guy you had only known for five minutes could evoke such strong emotions in you. "so, what do you do for work or are you in school as well?"

With a look of surprise on his face, he shifted his gaze towards you. "I do a lot of things, none of which concern you, dove, but I would love to buy you a drink. So tell me all about yourself." you can't say that you blame him for avoiding the subject; after all, you are just an odd woman who wants to know where he works or if he's in school. In the course of your conversation, you told him that your undergraduate major was sociology, that you were lonely here, and that you had hoped to make some new friends if you ventured out more. After blabbing your mouth for the next 30 minutes, you realized how open you were to this man you had never met. He may be a murderer for all you know. His eyes pierced through you as you pondered why you told him these things about yourself, and then he assertively said, "Tell me what you're thinking about." It jolted you out of your nervous thoughts, "I just told you about myself and I have no idea who you are."

Unexpectedly, he grinned at you. To him, it seemed like you were exactly where he wanted you to be. Before you stepped next to him, Tom spotted you—even though he hadn't planned on meeting a woman tonight. He could tell you were a newcomer to the city. Your awkwardness when approaching the bartender for a drink and your rushed search for someone to talk to was clearly noticeable. He could see right through you. He took pleasure in the idea of dominating others, particularly those who sought out his presence and placed their trust in him. Claiming that you were lonely and in need of someone sparked his interest in you.

He grasped your fingers, entwined them, and rubbed circles around your thumb. "my love, let me apologize for my rudeness earlier I just don't open up to many people but you have made me feel comfortable." This made you feel relieved. "I'm a teacher, but I grew up in Birmingham, I moved here a couple years ago for the job and have loved it ever since" He realized he needed to exhibit his softer side to entice you back, and that is exactly what he did. The way your eyes softened when he discussed relocating here and teaching made him want to do unexplainable things to you. This was so easy for him all he had to do was throw the word love or dove around and you would cave.

After that, you gradually picked up on his flirting, massaging your thumb, and calling you pet names. With the courage of alcohol, you thought you could seize this opportunity. You move forward and whisper in his ear, "Well I think teachers are sexy," and you can see his jaw clench as he realizes how forward you are being with him. He glanced at you with passion before grabbing your waist. You were so close you feared you'd be unable to breathe. "Don't start something you can't finish," his aggressiveness made you weak in the knees. You began to feel the warmth rise between your legs. All it took was you to look at him like you were begging for him to be inside you. he grabbed your arm and lead you out of the bar. "you're coming home with me" this instantly made you regret your decision, you'd thought it be fun to tease him but you didn't think he would take you home.

Before he called a taxi, you looked at him with nervous eyes, "Honestly I should get going, I just moved in and need to get settled I-" before you could finish your sentence, he pulled you to the side and leaned into you, "Oh dove, you can't tease me in there and expect to get away with it" he lightly grabbed your throat and ran his hand up to rub his thumb across your mouth, "You're going to be a good girl okay?" This made you think this man is bad news, but his dominance over you gave you chills. "okay I'm sorry" was all you could manage out of your mouth.

When we arrived at his place, all you could see was how immaculate and tidy it was. Coming from college, most boys/men's homes are awful. After scanning the room, he observed how interested you were. Simply adoring you. You look over at him as he sits on the couch, straight passion in his eyes. This made you want to puke since you knew what he wanted. "Come here" he said, making your stomach drop. you cautiously approach him, and he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to your knees. "Now I just met you and I understand you may not know how things work but teasing me and then trying to back out isn't going to work dove" As he reprimands you, he effortlessly puts his thumb into your mouth. He moves it around, gets wet, and rubs it against your lips. Your eyes were wide and large, ready for his next move. This makes your panties soaked for him.

He keeps a close eye on me, knowing that you have no idea what his next move will be. With that, he unbuckles his pants and removes his boxers, revealing that he is very well endowed. His cock is extremely hard for you. You observe how the veins transport so much blood to the tip. It's crimson with precum. "Now be a good girl and suck my cock," he demands. You shove him into your mouth and beginning to bob your head back and forth. He immediately begins to grunt as he watches you suck him off. "Fuck, you're being so good for me," he says. It makes your pussy ache for him. Looking up at him and seeing him appreciate your lips around him only makes you desire him more.

You get bored of giving him head, which makes him angry. He grabs the back of your head and fucks your mouth till you are unable to breathe. After he is pleased, he pulls you up and clutches your neck, "You will stop when I tell you to stop." This instills terror in your eyes, which turns him on and uses to fuel himself. He pushes you onto the couch and begins pulling your clothes off left and right. He hovers over you while you lay there naked and exposed. "Please touch me" you implore. "Please what?" he taunts you, as if your pussy isn't throbbing to be touched. "Please, sir, please touch me" and he begins to rub circles on your pussy, causing you to jerk and squirm. He enjoys witnessing how easy it is to fulfill you.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," you moan, and he promptly stops. "You don't tell me what to do, I've been too passive with you; you need to learn a lesson," he says as he flips you over and shoves his cock inside you. His size made you shout out, unable to adjust. After a few strokes, pleasure begins to surge in your stomach. "Sir, you feel so good." Those words caused him to slam into your tight pussy even harder. "You're such a good girl, taking all of me in your tight pussy." Hearing him speak to you in such a humiliating manner turned you on. His cock began to twitch inside you, eventually spilling all of his seed. He pulled out and watched you collapse on the couch, watching all of his sperm run out of your pussy.

"you are mine now"

Two weeks later

It had been two weeks since you last saw the man you met at the bar, and you still hadn't gotten his name. You awoke this morning ready to begin the day because it was your first day of graduate school. You were worried but eager to begin courses. You'd gotten up, showered, blow-dried, and styled your hair. You wanted to make a good first impression because you did not know anyone yet. You put on light makeup and got dressed.

Fortunately, when shopping for apartments, you discovered one close to campus, so you could walk to your first class. Today, you had your first class at 9:00 a.m. Walking through New York, you simply absorbed everything in, watching people and soaking up your surroundings. You had a feeling this was the right place to be, and you were excited for the journey to begin. When you arrived on campus, you entered the building and found your classroom. You arrived a little early, so you decided to walk in and take a seat. There were a few students already in the room.

The girl sitting next to you looked over and smiled, "Hi, my name is Emily," which let you relax even more. "Hi, my name is y/n." With that, we began talking about where we were from and what other classes we were attending. The class became larger, and it was finally time to begin. The professor strolled in and said the normal hey, my name is yada yada. After reviewing the curriculum and taking notes, a man walks in. "I'm sorry for being late, professor; it won't happen again." Before lifting your head, you knew that British voice. It made you shiver in your chair. "Sorry for the interruption, class. This is Tom Blyth; he's been working for me for two years and will be assisting this semester." You cautiously raise your head, hoping it's not who you think it is. And there's the man you met in the bar, smirking at you.

[basilf1res]

DP x DC Prompt - Zombie Jason

Jason didn’t know when it started, but when his left hand detached from his wrist the first time, it was safe to say he freaked out. What was worse was the patches of bruised skin slowly turning a rotting green.

It was chilling to look at, so he started wearing fingerless gloves that stretched beyond his wrists and covered enough of his hands to hide the decaying skin and flesh.

Perhaps the term “zombie” fit more than he thought. To add on, there was this pit in his stomach (not the pit madness, it had started to fade when his limbs started detaching, and was certainly silent now) that food never seemed to fill.

Deep down he was anxious that the hunger was for brains, but he knew that was just absurd.

He soon discovered he could completely remove his head, unscrewing it like a bottle cap on those cheap plastic water bottles.

Jason was starting to lose focus on the world around him, almost never during his vigilante work, but during everyday tasks. One time he was helping fix the bikes in the cave, replacing the worn down tires, when he spaced out. When Jason blinked, he was just sitting down at the dinner table, those already seated watching him carefully.

It made him feel sick, and he theorized he was dying again. So he started recording himself on tapes, logging how he was doing and the progress of the decay.

He started searching for a cure, something to hold him together.

He got more and more frenzied as the weeks flew by, similar to Tim on his sixth cup of daily coffee.

Jason started gathering things he owned, small trinkets and little gifts that he subtly placed around the manor. Alfred noticed the things first, seemingly oblivious to who was leaving them (he most definitely knew).

It hurt, but the gift giving made him happy, the rot wasn’t spreading as quickly if at all anymore! Jason was overjoyed. Spending time with his siblings made him feel all fuzzy inside, like someone took a phone and placed the vibration feature in the center his chest.

It wasn’t long before the rotting started to get worse again. Jason got into a fight with Bruce, he didn’t remember what it was about anymore, something about tests or reports on himself and his patrols around Crime Alley.

He threw his hand out to the side, a wide gesture of some kind when he felt the telltale sign of his left hand detaching from his wrist. The wretched squelching noise of the flesh tearing and the ‘schlop’ of the hand hitting the ground, splattering the cave floor with rusty reddish-brown blood. The birds and bats stared at the stump as Jason rushed to snatch up his hand, practically twisted the thing back in place.

Confessing that he believed he was dying again was the hardest thing in that moment. Jason told Bruce to fuck off, albeit wetly as his emotions refused to take a hike.

He left and the rest of the batfam begin researching relentlessly for some sort of cure. Dick, heartbroken over the ordeal, contacts Constantine.

“You need help with what?” The British magician dropped the cigarette he was twirling around his fingers to stare at Nightwing, Batman, Red Robin, and Red Hood. The last of the four standing off to the side, saying that he’ll be fine and he didn’t need magical medical help.

“Red Hood is starting to develop a skin condition where it appears he’s legitimately becoming a zombie, we need help finding some sort of medicine for him.” Nightwing states, stress pulling at his face.

John hums before turning to the man in question, “Take off your helmet.”

He was met with the sight of Jason’s face, but green patches covered his neck and jaw but no higher.

“Bloody hell…” Constantine muttered before reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a vial of Lazarus Water about the size of his pinky finger. “Do you know what this is?”

“Pit Water..?” Jason trailed off, the higher pitch at the end of his sentence making it sound like a question.

“Yes and no.” Constantine drawled, “This is purified ectoplasm, it’s been cleaned of any imprint or claim. It comes from the Infinite Realms.”

Batman grunted in a reply. “Hn.”

John rolled his eyes, “If I’m right, your decaying body should fix itself if you consume purified ectoplasm every week or so. If I’m wrong, the ectoplasm I have will not appeal to you and I’ll need to do some more digging.” Constantine’s attempt at being chipper fell short as he uncorked the vial and handed it over to Jason.

He stared at it, blankly looking at the shimmering, slightly metallic-looking liquid.

“We’ll go ahead, sniff it.” Constantine arched a brow that expressed he didn’t have time for this. “Drink it if it smells appealin- DON’T SWALLOW THE WHOLE BLOODY GLASS VIAL!!”

Jason had promptly done what he was told. To piss him off he just ate the whole thing - it wasn’t that but of a vial anyways - after a few moments he felt less brittle and fragile. He stuck his tongue out childishly. Snickering to himself silently.

Yeah. He could get used to the absence of the- hoLY FUCK WAS HE SINKING INTO THE CAVE FLOOR?!

——————————

I’m kinda brain-dead right now, I’ve dropped a pre-written Christmas themed fic to shift my attention to Project GH05T.

Here’s a blurb of Zombie Jason needing ectoplasm in order to keep himself from falling apart - literally.

Good night y’all. I wrote a majority of this in my study hall. 💀

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Reader POV:

Being on a military base had a way of immediately making you feel small. The imposing, armed men who scrutinized your ID at the front gate while another peered into the back seats of your car with a small flashlight before giving the all clear - the whole scenario made you inexplicably anxious. It’s not like you would be turned away or detained. You were the furthest thing from a threat that you could think of. What 5 ft 4 in. girl could take on even the smallest soldier here? You were unarmed (though your boyfriend was constantly encouraging you to at least carry something with you for self-defense). But even if you weren't, where would you hide a weapon on you? The tight fabric of your shorts would give it away immediately. And your crop top didn't leave many other hiding places either.

As always, you were waved through the gate and had made your way towards the barracks assigned to Task Force 141. Now, you sat fidgeting with your hair and staring at your phone, hoping your boyfriend would see your text soon. You didn't feel unsafe, but you still didn't particularly enjoy the idea of walking around base on your own. With him, you felt a bit more at ease socially. But alone, your shyness always got the best of you. And god damn it, everyone around here was either tall, muscular, intimidating, or all three!

"Come on," you whispered. "Just look at your phone."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement. A figure approaching the driver side of your car. You kept your eyes down, trying to look even smaller and hoping they would continue to walk past. But they didn't. They stopped, their large figure hunching down a bit to your eye level before tapping on the glass.

You raised your gaze to meet theirs. A man stared you down, his face concealed behind a black balaclava and a skull mask. All you could see were his eyes. Unreadable, all-seeing, shadowed eyes. You blanched as you rolled the window down a bit, worried that you'd somehow already landed in trouble.

"Um, am I allowed to park here? I've never been on base before, but-"

"Name?" He cut off your nervous rambling abruptly, his expression unchanged. He spoke with an air of command that gave away years of military life turned to habit. But the gruff British accent certainly caught you off guard.

"Y/n. Um, I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend here, I think? Do you know someone named König?"

Silence. He didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he didn't fully believe your story. You couldn't help but squirm under his pointed gaze, feeling your face grow hot. Seconds felt like minutes as his eyes ran over you, scanning. It seemed like he was sizing you up or looking for something. Any indication that you weren’t who you were claiming to be. Whatever it was, he must not have found it. Because he gave a curt nod before stepping back from the door a bit.

"Right then, out of the car," he ordered. "You're with me."

A sarcastic “Yes sir” welled up within you. But you bit your tongue, turned off the car, and stepped out. You were mildly offended at his rough, blunt mannerisms. He wasn’t your commanding officer, and you weren’t one of his men. But you gave him a bit of grace. Clearly, this guy didn’t interact with civilians too often. Additionally, you found the skull mask a bit unnerving. The last thing you wanted to do was immediately get on this guy’s bad side. He practically radiated a heady mixture of danger and authority. And the way his eyes studied you made you inexplicably nervous.

With a tilt of his head, he motioned for you to follow him before turning on his heel and loping away. In order to keep up with his long strides, you had to take up an awkward half-running, half-walking gait. His broad shoulders swayed gently as he went. They took up most of your view due to the vast height difference between you. The top of your head only came up to his shoulders, so you fixated on the back of his tactical vest as you walked within his shadow.

Ghost POV:

So this was the girlfriend König had mentioned. When he’d mentioned a relationship in passing, no one really believed him. Knowing how shy of a person he was outside of a combat setting, a majority of 141 assumed it was a little white lie he had told after one too many drinks and one too many virgin jokes. But yet here she was.

A flood of emotions had flickered through his mind when he finally laid eyes on the girl. First shock, then doubt, then a brief pang of jealousy. Apparently, they both shared the same taste in women because she was certainly attractive

Cute little curls framed her round face. The slight upturn of her eyebrows and the panic in those doe eyes of hers when she’d met his gaze through the window. The way she subconsciously nibbled on those plump, soft lips of hers as she had tried to quell her anxiety.

“The lucky bastard,” he grumbled internally. It’d been far too long since Ghost had indulged in the touch of a woman. And his day job made doubly sure of that. Knowing the most timid member of his team had managed to find the one thing he hadn’t brought out a streak of competitiveness in him that he couldn’t bat away.

When she had climbed out of the car, Ghost was surprised at how short she was. In order to meet his eyes, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. But the rest of her was just as he had expected. It was like König had climbed into Ghost’s head, developed a reference for his fantasy girl, and then intentionally found a girl of his own that matched that description. Tanned skin, perky breasts that bounced nicely whenever she moved, wide hips and thick thighs,... Those short shorts of hers were just salt in the growing wound at this point. The fabric clung to her body like skin. When she had turned to climb out of her car, the fabric had risen tantalizingly high in the back and revealed a fair portion of her ass peeking out beneath it. A portion that jostled so beautifully when her feet met the gravel of the parking lot. And then she just stood there, hands clasped behind her as she gazed up at him waiting to be told what to do.

And, oh the things he wanted to tell her to do for him.

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.