#and the car trouble is just. a pain in the ass either way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katsu28 · 5 months

Note

"send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!"

☕: prompt 23 from list e for rafe!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

it pains me to paint my pogues in a not so great light but i will forever love protective rafe <3 thank you for requesting!

rafe cameron x reader, minimal swearing, 1.9k

“Look who it is! The Princess Kook, slummin’ it on our side of the island for once.”

Your grip tightened around the pack of beer you were holding at the voice coming from behind you, because you already knew who it was. There was only one person ballsy enough to speak so critically of you, and you were pretty damn sure he was standing right behind you.

Lo and behold there he was, flanked by a more bored looking John B.

JJ Maybank was and always had been on your case, though you suspected it had more to do with your family name than with you yourself—always spouting off about money and wealth and eating the rich. You understood where he was coming from, of course, but that didn’t mean it stopped being irritating.

It just seemed like he was always riding you about being some little rich girl with daddy’s money, not an actual person, with actual feelings. But after a while, you’d grown used to it. JJ was all bark and no bite.

“Hi, JJ.” You sighed, shifting your weight to one leg. You nodded at John B, who did the same back to you. “How’s it going?”

“Didn’t know our booze was good enough for Her Majesty’s taste.” JJ sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his dig. “Rafe know you’re over here?”

“He’s not my keeper.”

“What’re you even doing here, Y/N? They don’t got beer on Figure Eight?” John B sounded a little bit nicer, more tired than bitchy like his blond friend.

“Cheaper here.”

“Like you don’t have enough fuckin’ money.” JJ scoffed. John B jabbed a sharp elbow into his side, a sign for him to shut up.

“Look guys, I’m not looking for any trouble. I just wanna get some beer and go home, that’s it.”

“How ‘bout you leave the beer here and run back to your little princess castle instead?”

“You’re a real prick tonight, JJ. Something got your panties all up in a bunch?” You shouldn’t have snarked back, that you knew, but he was really getting on your nerves tonight. You weren’t sure why. His words usually just slid right off you.

JJ’s expression darkened and he scowled, brows furrowing. “Maybe ‘cause I just got fired from the Club this morning.”

“What, why?” You asked, surprised. It was a genuine question. JJ was a definite pain in your ass, maybe with an attitude problem but still a good employee.

“Oh, drop the clueless act. Pretty sure it was one of your stuck up friends who complained.”

“I’m sorry you got fired, JJ, I am, but I had nothing to do with it. And there’s nothing I can do about it either. I don’t have that kind of pull with anyone at the Club, neither does my family.”

You figured it would be better if you left now before JJ came up with another retort, or you'd likely be here trading snippy insults with each other all night, and you had better things to do with your time. There was some sympathy in you for him, but your statement was still true. There was nothing you could do for him, even if you wanted to. And besides, Rafe was waiting on you for a movie night.

Leaving the conversation and the beer you were supposed to get behind, you hurried back to your car. The quicker you got to Rafe’s place, the quicker you could forget about it.

Only a couple minutes into the drive, headlights flashed in your mirror. No big deal, probably just someone heading the same way as you. You were on the main road to the other side of the island, after all.

Then the car sped up a bit, coming dangerously close to your back bumper before retreating a sizable distance behind—once, twice. By the third time, you were starting to get a little pissed.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting to get a better look at it. A big camper van, old from what you make out in the darkness, faded orange—oh fuck. You knew that van, John B’s old clunker of a car. And if you squinted a little harder, you could almost make out the same blond head of hair that was antagonizing you back at the store.

So JJ did have a little bite in him. You sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out.

Stepping on the gas a little harder, you took the long way back to the Figure 8, weaving through the backroads you’d known like the back of your hand since before you were able to drive. Back then, you’d done it on your bike, peals of laughter echoing through the overgrown fields of the Cut turned clean lines of pristinely cut lawns the closer you got to home, as Rafe chased after you on his own.

Still, the van followed you on your way. With every glance at it in the rearview mirror, you grew a little more worried.

JJ’s driving was erratic, like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with you. If he really wanted to hurt you, this would be the ideal place to do it. There was nothing but grass and weeds around here. Nobody would find you for hours, even days if he were to run you into a ditch or something.

That thought alone spurred you to drive even faster, driving and driving until you took one more look in the mirror to see that the van had stopped. You watched the headlights grow smaller in the distance, forcing yourself to keep driving until you got to safety—to Rafe.

You screeched to a stop in front of Rafe’s townhouse, barely giving a backwards glance to see if they were really gone before hurrying the rest of the way to the front door. Hands trembling, you balled them both into fists, raising one to knock as loudly as you could. You could barely hear the thud of your fist on the wood over your thundering heart.

The door opened in an instant, Rafe’s smiling face greeting you. It quickly faded when he took in your wide eyes, your hard breathing. He pulled you inside immediately, sliding the locks home behind you before gathering you into his arms. “What happened?”

You explained as quick as you could, but the adrenaline from the whole thing was starting to die down. Your previous thoughts were starting to seem silly at this point. JJ was a hothead, but you didn't think he’d go so far as to take out his anger on you. He was probably just trying to scare you, nothing more, nothing less.

Rafe, on the other hand, was livid.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, voice dangerously low. His eyes searched you for any visible injuries, hands sliding over your body with the utmost care, a stark contrast to the storm creeping into his beautiful blue eyes. “I swear to god if those punks even laid a finger on you—”

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me, Rafe. I’m okay now, I promise. Just a little shaken up is all.” You assured him, stopping his search by lacing your fingers through his. He still looked unsure. “I’m fine, baby. Honest.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed long and hard, and you reached up, attempting to smooth out the deep wrinkle between them with your thumb.

You traced above one of them, trailing down over the skin under it before letting your palm settle against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he leaned more into your touch. The wrinkle disappeared.

“Okay. But you’re not going home tonight. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna have a talk with my sister in the morning, okay?” He was calmer now, you could tell. The sharp edge to his voice was gone, his shoulders relaxed the more you stroked along his skin. You nodded, satisfied. “Can I make you something? Tea? A snack? I’ve got those cheese puffs you’re so obsessed with, though I don’t really see how good—”

“Rafe,” You chided, smiling warmly, “You don’t have to dote on me. I’m fine.”

“I know. My girl’s strong.” He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your palm. “Just had me worried for a bit, that’s all.”

You kissed him, short and sweet, before tugging him towards the living room. Your gaze landed on the snacks he’d laid out on the coffee table first, drifting to the heaps of blankets and pillows on the couch right after.

Everything was already set up perfectly, and with all that had happened in just the past hour, sent a warmth flooding through your body, a sense of safe and love and home that you only ever felt when you were with Rafe.

Rafe suddenly looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin at the way you were looking at him. “What? I was excited to see you.”

“You saw me yesterday, Rafe.” You chided lightly, completely failing at a stern look in favor of something much fonder.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.”

“Rafe Cameron, are you going soft on me?” You hummed, settling onto the couch. Rafe threw himself down next to you with a nonchalant shrug, resting an idle hand on your knee when you threw your legs across his thighs, but the answer was a resounding yes.

Yes, he was soft for you. Yes, he loved you more than he loved anything and anyone in this world.

He knew it, you knew it, and that was what prompted him to speak his next words.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh.” You snickered, drawing a roll of his eyes with a lopsided smile.

“Hilarious. Anyways, um, what would—I mean, what’re your thoughts about maybe…moving in with me?”

“Here?” Maybe you sounded a bit more skeptical than you meant to, because Rafe quickly backtracked, sitting up straight.

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could get a new place, if you want.” He replied, shaking his head. “Top’s uncle works in real estate, I could probably get him to show us some places within the next couple of days—”

“No.”

Rafe’s expression crumpled. “No? No, as in no, you don’t want to live together?”

You amended your rather blunt statement with a hand placed over his. “No, as in no, I don’t want to get a new place. I wanna live here. With you.”

“You do?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron, your place is way nicer than mine.” You teased. Clearly amused, he scoffed, giving your calf a playful pinch.

“That the only reason?”

“‘Course not. I’m also looking forward to that fancy shower head in your bathroom.”

Rafe snorted, pulling you close against him, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked a bit funny like this, nearly bug-eyed because of your close proximity, but you thought he’d never looked cuter. “And me?”

You peppered kisses to his cheeks, chin, nose, the corners of his mouth in lieu of an answer, loud and over dramatic and definitely obnoxious, but it made him laugh. Then you kissed him right where he wanted, firm and loving against his lips to say yes, always you, and he smiled.

Moving in with Rafe meant getting to hear your favorite laugh, see your favorite smile, every single day waking up next to him. You hoped you’d get to experience it for the rest of your life, starting now.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#wooo she's back from the writing grave everybody cheer :D #kait's 2k!#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #non canon!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff

413 notes · View notes

salsasvault · 4 months

Text

The Supermarket

this started off as a continuation for the gym!simon fic but it just became it's own thing

supermarket!simon x reader, cw: stalking, dark simon riley

Part one

1 │2 │3

Simon Riley hasn't experienced kindness, so when you show him some, he goes a little crazy.

Grocery shopping is either the funnest thing in the world or the biggest pain in the ass. And right now you're feeling it's the latter.

After a long day of work, walking around a crowded, loud store was not your ideal night. But having no-anything and little to no money, forced you off your spot on the couch, leaving it and your unfinished show behind.

You've survived, barely, trotting the shopping cart, leaning your full body weight onto it for support, eyes half closed as you wait in the checkout line. The day you’re most drained had to, of course, be the busiest day this grocery store's seen.

As you mindlessly scroll through your phone, a sudden sharp pain surges through your back, you’ve been, of course, crashed into by the cart behind you. Letting out a breath of surprise you turn to face the culprit.

Face still twisted in pain, you see a boy, around 10, with not an ounce of remorse on his face. A little annoyed you turn back, and not a minute later you're interrupted by a man, presumably his father. He makes an excuse, profusely apologizing, and so you, of course, accept the apology, give your classic,

"Don't worry about it! It happens!" and what tries to be a genuine smile but miserably fails.

Exasperated, your head is now seated between both your arms as you wait impatiently for your turn.

When you eventually near cash, another thing seems to be against you. The man in front of you, of course, seems to have forgotten his wallet.

You take a quick peek at the total, 115$, a steep number, one that you don't think you could afford, but the line won't move if he doesn't find a way to pay, and the nice thing to do is cover it.

So you chime in,

"Hey, y'know what it's okay I got it," You give him a soft smile, reassuring him that really it's no trouble. Sure you’ll have to skimp on next week's groceries, but a good deed's a good deed, you suppose.

He doesn’t move, like he hadn’t heard you, until you make your way to the machine does he finally speak.

“S’alright, don’t need them anyway.” He goes to leave.

“No really, it’s no problem,” click, you move fast, the money's gone through, not much he can say now. All you can hope for is he takes the food, and leaves so you can crawl back to your couch.

He turns around, looking at you, albeit a little weirdly, you can only see his eyes, the other half of his face covered with what looks to be a mask, the ones that wrap around your neck.

You pay no mind, averting your eyes to look at your cart, on any other day you might be more pleasant, smiling, maybe even small talk.

But the day seems to just get longer and longer, and he stares for another beat, a soft, “Thank you.” follows.

He picks up the bags, all five in one hand, you stare a little too long at the hand that holds them all, before snapping back to reply.

“No problem, have a good night.”

Was his response a little lackluster? Considering you really can’t afford anything else for the month, yes, but who knows maybe it made his day, you shut yourself down before you overthink the whole thing.

Finally, your turn you finish everything up, and your total's 95$, again more than you can afford, and so you put back the homemade burger buns, bread’ll have to do, and that pasta sauce is given back too, along with some extra produce.

You’re total comes up 55$, a number you feel a little more comfortable committing to, you're handed the bags, and you leave.

You take them out to your car, putting them in securely, and head home.

After you’re home, seated on the couch, laptop atop your lap, mindlessly scrolling through various shopping sites, do you receive a call.

Your phone rings often, at least twice a week with a number you’ve never seen and an area code far from where you are, chalking it up to a scam call every time you’ve never answered, this time no different.

You take a quick glance at the phone next to you, not recognizing the number you go back to the pair of red shoes that were on sale for a dangerously good deal.

Your phone rings again, a little weirder this time as scammers tend to call once and move on, but on the off chance it’s not a scam, you're sure they’ll leave a voicemail or a message.

A ding is what furthers your confusion, and the message itself is what chills your bones.

“It’d be in your best interest to answer that.”

Was it highly unusual? Sure, we’re you a little scared? Yes, but then again it could always be a wrong number. You had recently changed phone plans, and your number changing with it so really it’s a simple explanation, you do however feel bad for whoever that was meant for.

Your phone rings again, worrying you further but you leave it, if whoever texts again you’ll respond, just to put an end to the dings.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

A little intimidated by now, your mind starts to jump to conclusions, you haven't met anyone new, and haven't given your number to anyone recently.

You text back.

“i think you have the wrong number”

“Last I checked, this was the pretty sweetheart from the supermarket, was it not?”

You swear your heart stills, before coming back to life, beating tenfold.

This could very well still be a wrong number, everyone goes to the store, just because you did today doesn’t make you special, probably some guy trying to chat up a cashier.

“sorry, i really do think you have the wrong number”

Your mind flickers through the number of possibilities, it could be a prank, one of your friends trying to scare you. Though, this wasn't the kind of prank they'd pull.

“You sure?”

“yes???”

“Then why can I see ya texting lovie? All comfy with your laptop, I think you should get that those, red suits you.”

Your head whips around to the window your sofa's seated next to, no one's out there, it’s not possible, you live in an apartment building, 20 floors above ground. The only way he could see you was if…

“who is this”

You get out immediately, sure it’s cliche but it’s all you can manage, all that comes into your anxiety-riddled mind. You're suddenly aware of every noise and every shadow in your living room.

“You know who it is.”

“i really don't buddy, just answer the question”

“I think the better question is how got inside, check your kitchen.”

You feel like you've been doused with ice water, heart beating so loud it's the only thing you can hear. The thought of getting up to investigate, when he's more than likely to be inside. You guess you waited too long contemplating because you hear another ding sound from your phone.

“Check your kitchen, don’t make me make you sweetheart.”

Your heart skips, hesitantly you stand, slow steps moving toward the kitchen, your eyes scanning for any movement, anything, ears on high alert for the drop of a pin.

When you finally make it around to the kitchen, you're eyes once again scan the corners, the pantry, and then they fall on the counter.

Sat atop are four bills, four hundred dollar bills, alongside a note.

It then finally clicks into your head, the man in front of you in the line.

Surprisingly neat writing,

Had to pay you back,

See you soon.

Eight words scrawled onto a page. Your mind is overwhelmed with the questions flying through, pay you back with four hundred dollars? See you soon?

You grasp at your phone, rushing to text him, to gain some answers, maybe even report him to the police. Pulling open your messages, the text threads disappeared, along with his number from your call log.

You're left even more confused, did he have access to your phone? When was he in the apartment? Was he still here? If he wasn't how could he see you?

Anxiety overwhelms you, as you stare at the large sum of money and the only trace of him on your kitchen counter.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader

281 notes · View notes

tomatoswup · 10 months

Note

i had this silly idea i told my friend about what if the Trigun Stampede gang run in to a runaway teen reader and then the reader’s part of the gang. The reader’s in their rebellious phase of course and kinda argues with Wolfwood a lot. Can you write headcanons for this please? (°▽°)

Runaway!

A/N: i’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE RESPONSE IT WAS A REALLY HECTIC MONTH😭😭😭😭 honestly, this was really fun to write heheheh,,, i can kinda see reader being a pain in the ass but with good intentions….maybe… But god i can imagine how crazy the stampede crew would be if they had a teen,,, i love it😌☝️☝️☝️ Hope you enjoy!!!(*´∇｀*)

warnings/tags: none!

Well aren't you a little anomaly in the bad deserts!

When you first encounter the gang, it wasn't a very...proud encounter.

To be exact, trying to steal Vash's gun in the middle of a busy bar was a very brave choice knowing that the Humanoid Typhoon was trying to eat spaghetti, and in the flesh!

Bold dare I say but, besides that, you were getting hunted by a group of thugs that had been going through town and uh, you sure did cause a bit of trouble.

And by trouble I mean you stole their car keys and went out for a joy ride.

Yup, crashed that shit rightttt into a boulder.

And of course Vash, who's a bit too kind for his own good at times, wanted to help someone so young to Wolfwood's disbelief. Meryl and Roberto? They've witnessed what he did for Jenora Rock so they kinda expected it.

After that first meeting, you naturally stuck to the wacky group and often times when needed, you tried to help them in exchange for saving your life.

Of course with payment :D It's a hard world for a runaway teen out here!

Don't worry you don't make them pay...sometimes...

Young and free they say hahaha!!...Yeah you had literally no more bullet to spare so time to get workin~

You often had Wolfwood reminisce his times back at the orphanage. He's lived there for so long and he's dealt with kids of many ages, but goddamn did you give this man a mf headache.

Sorry, correction, a migraine.

I damn right knowww he goes through twice the number of cigarette packs when you're around.

"Alright kid, no more grabbing shit or starting fights. Zip your mouth if you're gonna be tagging along-"

"Do you really think I'm gonna listen to a priest?"

"UNDERTAKER!"

"Same thing"

"No it's not!"

You glanced at Meryl for more input.

"...Okay I can see where they're coming from-"

"MERYL SERIOUSLY?!"

You got Wolfwood this close to Homer Simpson choking you out.

Sometimes Vash can't help but watch the both of you headbutt eachother.

He's the type of person to try and stop the fight and maintain the peace but bestie, when you're against a rebelling teenager anything is possible.

He understands tho bc he's also gone through his little phase, that's how he got his little earring :D

But asides from that, when he tries to stop ya'll you guys just ignore him lmAOOO

They say teens are rebellious while trying to find others who they can relate to or have a connection with and well, although you didn't really have a permanent home anymore like you use to, you slowly found yourself getting fond of this little wacky group.

And at some point while you guys got closer, Wolfwood tended to look after you a little more.

Was it because of his past? Or were you just a kid who needed the right guidance forward?

Either way, he tries his best to give you good advice,,, advice to keep you alive.

A practical guardian you could say,, Or kinda like an uncle?

And you know what, you don't mind it.

"Did your sticky little hands grab another fucking wallet? Seriously?"

'No I did not!" You narrowed your eyes at him "It's a map get it right. I also only steal from the rick-looking men Wolfwood cmon now-"

You ended up getting a bonk on the head from him, which led you to looking at Roberto, who downed another drink.

"What are you looking at me for?"

WHATCHU MEAN MY BOY ARE YOU REALLY NOT GONNA-

He really doesn't care lMAAOOO Most unphased man alive.

As long as no one dies!

And maybe after all of this time, even after those two years after what happened to July you guys will reunite again :)

You still a lil' shit tho

"does anyone have gum?"

"I haven't seen you in two years and you're asking me this?"

"...It was just a question..."

FUN TIMESSSSSS~

extra:

-you would wHIP THE NEWS AGENCY CAR ON A GOOD MORNING

-Meryl gets tired one night driving?

-"I'll drive for you!"

-Everyone regrets letting you touch that wheel.

-That poor car looks like if you were shaking a bag of skittles when you drive full speed over those sandy hills.

-You got Meryl thanking to god she put her seatbelt on

-Vash holding onto the back of the driver's seat for his life,, I think his nails left cuts in the seat itself jeez!

-Roberto's holding a hand out against your chest so you don't FLY out of your seat when you guys go airborne.

-And Wolfwood honestly wished the sandworms from earlier had eaten him.

-fuc- DID HIS PUNISHER JUST UNHOOK FROM THE ROOF-

-"STOP THE CAR STOP THE CAR!!"

#trigun imagines #trigun headcanons #trigun stampede #trigun imagine #vash x reader #vash imagine #nicholas d wolfwood #vash the stampede #tristamp #trigun stampede headcanons #tumblr needs a spacing setting ASAPPPPP #TRIGUN #this close bulletpointing aint doin it for me #but this was fun to write hehehe #reader gON WHIP ITTTT

71 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 3 months

Text

One Undead To Another (Chapter 3)

(It's 1 AM and I work today so naturally I'm hyperfocused on writing. Trigger warning for blood drinking, POV of someone who's dying, and temporary death.)

Burton Guster wakes up to use the bathroom. He checks his phone as he snuggles back under his still-warm covers, a habit he developed pretty much the moment Shawn got a cellphone and the ability to send texts.

Following MY lead and proving you all wrong

Oh, no. He did not.

Halfway to the Spooky Mansion. Still a chance for you to join in.

Seriously are you ignoring me or did you forget to turn your volume up again :(

Going in, keeping your half of the check when I solve this.

Spooky mansion got way too spooky. Bury me with my Tears for Fears vinyls.

Gus immediately calls Shawn after reading that last text.

No answer. He waits for a text scolding him for calling during a snooping mission- he waits for ten minutes before he lets out a panicked scream and dials Lassie.

No answer there, fine. He calls Juliet next.

“Gus?” Her voice is groggy and scratchy. “This better be an emerge-”

“Shawn went back to that mansion.”

“He what? I- why am I even surprised?”

“His last text to me says he might be in trouble, Jules.”

“Gus, we ruled them out as suspects.”

“In those murders! In just one set of murders!”

“... That’s a fair point, actually. Okay, I will call Carlton, and we will check on Shawn. Are you going to come with us?”

“Yes, obviously I’m coming with you!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll pick you up on the way to Carlton’s. And Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“Change out of your pajamas before I get there.”

He looks down at his fireman pjs- the same he was wearing last time Shawn did this. Maybe they’re cursed. He should probably burn them and get new ones, just to be on the safe side. “Right.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jebus, O’Hara, why is Guster here?” Lassiter groans as he slumps, practically unwillingly, into his Ford Fusion.

“He was extremely helpful last time!”

“Thank you, Juliet. Besides, I’m the one Shawn is texting!”

“If he got himself shot again, I’m putting you both in the holding cells for the rest of the case,” Lassiter gurmbles as he starts the car and pulls out.

“If he got shot again, I’m sicking his dad on him.” If there anyone left to- no, no, he can’t think like that. He can panic and doom-spiral after he finds Shawn totally safe, healthy, and grinning with some stupid new piece of evidence. Because that’s how they have to find him.

“Whatever. We’re either going to save his ass again, or arrest it for breaking an entering. Either way, Guster stays in the car.”

Gus scoffs. “Yeah, alright.”

The car ride is quiet. Lassiter oozes irritation over being woken up. Jules hums along to the radio, either used to or simply resigned to situations like this being apart of her life- and probably trying to help Gus calm down. It’s working, a little. Gus feels a little silly about it, but it’s hard to panic when there’s someone humming nearby.

They’re only a few minutes away when all three feel a… twist.

Lassiter tenses at the wheel as Jules lets out a soft gasp and Gus’s stomach drops.

Something is wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong, and they don’t need to say it out loud to know they all feel it.

Lassiter floors it for the last stretch. He and Jules run up to the house with guns already drawn and fingers on the triggers, Gus behind them with a mounting dread as the mansion looms.

Lassiter has barely raised his hand to knock when the screaming starts.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn’s scream of pain is muffled, silenced, in the shoulder of The Boss. He feels her fangs dig, pressing deeper and deeper into his neck as she uses him like some kind of handsome juice pouch, or maybe a soup dumpling- yeah, definitely a soup dumpling. Should he be thinking about food right now? He is food- and being food hurts.

She bites deeper, and his next scream feels choked. He can feel his blood as it’s sucked out of him, a horrible unnatural feeling. It’s not like when he was shot, where his blood just oozed out of it’s own accord. It’s like his blood knows it’s being stolen, knows it’s being taken away, and it’s trying to cling to the inside of his veins with all of it’s thick, liquid-y strength.

He thinks he might be screaming again, or maybe moaning in pain? He’s making some kind of sound, but good god, she is making quick work of him. The world is going dull and fuzzy, his eyes drooping but never closing. The flickering candles cast strange shadows, making it look like more than four other people surround them- he sees a dozen, maybe more, it’s hard to tell, they’re all moving through each other. How much blood has he lost if he’s hallucinating already?

His fingers feel cold. No, actually- all of him feels cold. His fingers feel numb. He’s slumping against her now. He can’t hold his own weight anymore. Will they dump him in a field? No, that- they have something else planned for him. Don’t they? It’s starting to go away. Everything is starting to go away. There must be fifty people in the room now. There’s a sea lion in the corner. His arms have gone slack. Why can’t he close his eyes all the way?

“-ay strong.” He’s not sure who spoke. What did he name the other people again? How many were there? He was… investigating something. Right? It’s hard to think. It makes him tired. Someone is cradling him and holding him up, but it doesn’t feel nice. His neck feels the least nice.

“-wn. Shawn, stay with us, help is coming. Help is coming.”

He… he knows that voice. It’s… comforting. Who is that?

His eyes still won’t close. He feels cold. He feels his last dregs of blood clawing to stay inside of him. There’s pairs of feet, just in front of him, taking up his blurry darkening vision. A pair of white shoes, for… some kind of sport, Shawn doesn’t know, he can’t… connect. And a pair of… he doesn’t know, some kind of old lady shoes. He knows those shoes.

There’s a hand against his cheek. No, there isn’t. Yes, there is. No, there isn’t- but there’s something. It’s there and it’s not there, like- like cotton candy. That stuff is weird. A whole mouthful turns into nothing within seconds. Someone is saying something to him.

“-ay. It’ll be okay. They’re almost here.”

“So are we.” He knows that voice too. It’s not as comforting- but it’s not not comforting. It’s… someone. He can’t make the connection. He should’ve passed out by now. He’s lost enough blood to die, he knows that, if he knows one thing it’s that. Why is he still awake?

“We’ll make sure they find you.” That not-there hand is carding through his hair now as whatever is digging in his neck leaves- it’s the first sensation other than numbness he’s felt in… has it been seconds? Minutes? Hours? He’s not good at tracking time even when he does have blood. This is a nightmare. He hopes it’s a nightmare. Thinking hurts.

His head is pushed back. The shoes belong to people- that’s good to know. He can’t really see who. He isn’t sure what he’s capable of seeing right now actually counts as Seeing at all. Someone is yanking open his mouth.

“-or you. I’m here for you. You’re not alone right now.”

“I’m not sure he understands what you’re saying.”

“Shush, Mary. He needs to hear it anyway.”

Something is in his mouth. Something cold, and thick, and slugdy, and awful. He doesn’t have the strength to gag as it slides down his throat. It tastes rotten. It tastes wrong.

There’s a lot of it. He can’t swallow. He can’t gag. It lasts forever.

It reaches his stomach.

It burns.

He’s on the floor now- he didn’t feel his head hit, but it’s resting against something solid, so it must’ve. Hey, he can still make deductions. That’s cool. Everything is numb, but not numb, and everything hurts, but he can’t feel it. It hurts someone else, even though it’s him. It’s… far away. He’s far away. Someone is kneeling in front of him. Two someones. He can’t see them. His eyes are closed, finally. He doesn’t know how he knows they’re there.

“Go to sleep, Shawn.” … Oh. Oh, he knows where he knows that voice. He must really be dying, then. Or already dead.

“Gr’ma.” He can’t hear his own voice.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Go to sleep. We’ll make sure you’re okay.”

There’s a sound pounding against his ears. He tries to lift his head to hear it better. It’s a dull roar, like a terrible low-quality recording of a rock concert. … Yeah, exactly like that. It’s screaming.

“Your friends will be okay too. I promise. Trust me, sweetheart. Just… let yourself sleep.”

He actually doesn’t think he has a choice- but it’s nice that she’s talking. It’s so much clearer than the screaming. He should probably care about that. He’s too far away to be able to.

Shawn takes a deep breath and relaxes.

He sighs.

He loses consciousness.

He does not breathe again.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as the screaming starts Lassiter breaks the door down. It’s almost too easy- the wood is rotten. Who would live in a place like this? Someone not looking to stay long. Shawn had said that. Why hadn’t Gus believed him?

“SBPD!” Lassiter and Jules to in with guns raised and ready to fire- Gus feels safe enough behind them to follow.

No-one is home. If it weren’t for the ear-splitting screaming coming from somewhere, it would be eerie.

“Guster, go back to the car.” Lassiter doesn’t move. “Now.”

“Shawn is somewhere in here.” Gus can hear his fear leeching into his voice.

“We’ll find him,” Jules promises, just as rooted to the spot- something in the air feels wrong. A stillness, but a crackling, an energy but a void.

“Alright.” He can’t stand it anymore, he loves Shawn and he wants to find him but he can’t stand it anymore-

The door slams shut behind him.

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Gus’s scream is lost among the chorus. The lights are flickering- no, that’s too mild a word for it, because the lights are going in and out and sparking and buzzing and it’s like the whole house is screaming-

Someone’s at the end of the entrance hall.

“Hands in the air!” Lassiter bellows, but the figure doesn’t put their hands up. The lights go out again. They come back on. The figure is closer.

“Stay where you are!” Juliet’s gun is steady as she aims it.

“-me? Testing, testing- forgive me. The afterlife doesn’t usually have this much bleed-over.”

Gus almost faints. He knows that voice.

“That’s impossible.” Lassiter swallows. He knows it too. They all do. “You’re worse at rescuing than Shawn,” Mary Lightly says, hands in the pockets of his racquetball uniform. “At least he was moving.”

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

14 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years

Text

“Boogie Bitch” Slashers first meeting w/ a Fem!Reader who’s also a Slasher

CHARACTERS: JESSE & ASA

Reader is always black unless I say differently

SFW, canon typical violence at most

Inspo: Megan Thee Stallion/Scary

Happy October and hope you enjoy!

ASA EMORY

You targeted him because he seemed like an easy hit

Residential street, by the books job, basic looking if hefty white man

He wore sweaters to work almost everyday for fucks sake

You sneak into his house of course, side eyeing all the displays of different insects you pass

He senses something’s off and unlike with Arkin (who was familiar with Asa) you can’t circumvent him and he gets the drop on you.

In the scuffle your mask gets pulled off

Your helmet hair is not cute but you barely focus on that as you gape at him

Him taking advantage of your lapse to stab you in the arm with a letter opener springs you back into action though.

“Ow, fuck!”

He just grunts as he springs up at you, something worrying flashing in his eyes. You have never once run into someone who looked at you like that before.

Sure you’ve gotten contempt and fear, even the occasional wannabe final girl (or boy) with some fiery disposition, but never has the way one of your targets looked at you ever made your own blood run cold.

Screw the kill, you scramble away from the man worth every inch of your being

At this point the hunting knife in your fist might as well just be an accessory

Eventually he manages to catch your arm and in the ensuing sharp sprout of pain up your appendage you panic and throw the knife at him. The fucker catches it.

Evidently your best bet is to run and you don’t hesitate to haul ass to the front door. You’ve pissed Asa off though so it’s not like he’s just going to watch you leave.

He’s angry as hell. So mad he’s not even speaking words he’s just growling and shit. It triggers your fight or flight like crazy though(and flight wins obviously). Asa’s mostly pissed that you 1.) had the gall and 2.) he didn’t notice you poking around his house until you were already inside.

You’re faster than he thought you’d be and where you’d seemed pretty slow before, you were already out the door by the time he threw your accosted knife and it embedded in the spot you ran past not a second before

In your confusion you dashed out the back door instead of the front

So now he’s chasing you around his backyard until either he catches you or you manage to get your thick ass over to the neighbors backyard

HOW IT GOES: you juke him and then hop the fence. You fall instead of landing on your feet on the other side, but it’s not like anybody saw.

Immediately after you wave to his angry face before you start screaming bloody murder and then bang on the neighbors back door

They’re not white woman tears, but the crocodile tears you shed do the job and have the old couple next door taking you in and calling the police

You don’t lead the cops back to Asa cause that could get you in trouble, but the entomologist does glower through the routine questioning that all the neighbors are put through incase they saw whatever ‘mysterious kidnappers’ had gotten you

He’d never admit it out loud but he’s genuinely embarrassed. Like, down to his core ashamed you nearly got the drop on him and escaped, and now he needs to get back at you

Because of this Asa makes sure not to forget your face, and you can bet he’ll be seeing your ass again.

JESSE CROMEANS

You’re a stripper at one of the types of spots he’d usually pick up piggies at

That night in fact he’s eyeing you for the slaughter

In a little bra and skirt set you come up to his table, recognizable six inch pleasers and everything and something about you pings in his brain

So you’re both sizing each other up

He’s big but you’ve taken on bigger and he looks like he’s got money (desperate men with a lot of bank tended to try and barter) but this man: mr expensive car, watch, shoes, and suit, you couldn’t wait to see the goodies he’d give you to try and bribe you for his life

You lay the charm on hard to lull him into a false sense of security

Meanwhile Jesse’s over there thinking: “pretty and a dumbass, looks like I’ll be having an easy night after all.”

He doesn’t plan on killing you right away but he’d get to initiate the chase easier since he wants to have fun with you for two or three days

There’s an art to it

Neither of you catch on to the other’s games as the night drags on

You slide into his lap and pull a little wrist touch and giggle as you admire his watch. Armani, nice.

And Jesse’s smug in the cheap pink lighting of the seedy club. Rubbing his hands along your thighs and stuffing 20’s he plans on collecting later in your waistband. Yeah, he’s milking your greedy ass.

You dance him up, promising something you’re never gonna give him, and he plays along until y’all get to the room you rented for this week's hunt

When you excuse yourself to the bathroom to strap up he drops all pretense and mounts his camera

That red light flashes on as soon as the bathroom door swings open

There’s surprise filled silence as you both clock the knives in each other’s hands. Only difference is you snap out of it faster, diving for his weapon. He pulls it away before you get it but you do slash the back of his heel. Not as deep as you wanted because of his thick expensive damn pants, but still, it makes him stumble

This fight lasts longer than Asa’s. Jesse swings with a lot of power but he’s big, tall and wounded so you stick closer to the ground as you bounce around the room. Never pausing long enough to be cornered or slammed down as you zip past volatile hands.

You’re a Slasher too and a woman, you know how to move and you know how to lie to stay alive when killing people bigger than you. You also have a tried and true process to subdue them too.

Once you pass him up good enough you can get to the door with a few precious seconds to spare, you curse. There’s a big fancy lock keeping the two of you trapped

HOW IT GOES: He comes up from behind you and then his big hands are at your throat. You wiggle around desperately, trying to throw him off with your body weight.

It doesn’t work, Jesse’s too strong for that shit, but he doesn’t kill you right away. He chokes you long enough to subdue and then takes your weapon away while you cough up half your lung on the rundown carpet.

He misses your method of curbing your victims though, and once you’ve regained yourself enough to realize the bastard is taunting you with twirls of his stupid custom blade you wait until the right moment to strike.

In the meantime you pretend like you’re still stunned

No doubt done playing around, and deciding you’d be too much of a problem to let go so he can hunt, Jesse goes in for the kill pretty quickly

It’s then that you surprise him by moving fast enough to just barely dodge his downward strike, he gives you a good long cut down the arm to remember him by, but you yell and push past the sting to plunge your needle into his wrist before hopping to your feet

He’s a lot of man but what was in your syringe works fast and despite his best efforts to stay standing when he tries to advance on you he just ends up veering to the left and then collapsing

You laugh at him, you do, which you can tell pisses him off then rummage through his jacket for the lock key and leave.

While this is happening Jesse’s fuming. Only Princess, his hardest victim to date, had done him this dirty. But even if it wasn’t by his hand she was dead and he’s not going to stand for you relegating him incapacitated either. Jesse only liked games when he came out on top after all.

You should’ve ended him in that dingy motel room, but all things considered you just weren’t thinking and only wanted to get as far away from the other Slasher as possible. This was new for you and you hated it, but it was better to leave without a kill than without your life.

Later, once he’s been checked and cleared by his medical team, Jesse goes back to the club and gets the fake information you used to get a job there, then through his connections he and Spann find you

You who left him with a little souvenir too, strained muscles that he has to briefly stop hunting to recover from

And yeah, Chromeskull plans on paying you a little visit soon

Real soon

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

237 notes · View notes

whenim64 · 2 months

Text

jonesmith analysis ep 11-26 (part 4)

its finally done :)

ep 11

^ Davy looks extra tiny here its so cute.

ep 12 Mike is barely in this one and yet I got something

ep 13 married couple episode. you just have to see the vision.

"WAY TO GO DAVYBABY" 🥰

that scene where Mike is picking up the dirt and hes like "either this dirts the cause of all your trouble, or im getting my hands dirty for nothing" and you can hear Davy very lightly laughing gahh so cute its like a subtle little laugh... hes infatuated.

^we've already established that Davy is just a touchy grabby guy but he really is just standing around holding onto Mike's arm in this scene, not even as a fear response hes just chillin holding his man.

ep 14

nothing really here but i do love that they are mirroring each others posture here

ep 15

butt touch.

also another calling out to Mike in pain scene.

ep 16 and 17 im ngl i didnt bother rewatching these ones so you just have to take my word for it that they are gay in love.

ep 18

neck bite.

ep 19

"good point." "good point."

there is something going on here...

ep 20

this ep is more group poly so im just going to add these cute little touches

ep 21

I love that Davy is just hanging out in the garage with Mike and Peter while they work on the car, hes clearly not helping hes just there to admire them at work.

"makes it lighter" "goes faster"

^^^love this play off each other so much its very in sync.

booster seat ass. I know Mike copped a feel when he was reaching for the book.

this cute scene where Davy is literally pressed against Mike and is leaning his cheek on his shoulder.

pictures are from THIS POST.

ep 22

only this faggotry

ep 23

THIS SCENE where Davy giggles at Mike. and this scene where Mike is telling a dumb joke and hes puffing his chest up Davy looks smitten to me.

the homoerotic tension in this scene. the whistling and glancing at each other... they would be fucking if Micky and Peter werent in the room too. I am choosing to believe that even tho they are staying in a mansion they are all sharing that one room and Davy and Mike are sharing that bed. Davy crawling up behind Mike he shouldve put his hands on his shoulders.

looking at each other like this right after a love confession.. okay!

ep 24 💅

I am choosing to interpret Mike bursting out laughing when Davy first dresses up as a girl as a fake exaggerated reaction because deep inside he felt immense attraction and was having an oh fuck moment.

ep 26

touchy Davy. I also love their pink black outfit contrast. images are from THIS POST.

#yayyy yippee #sorry this one took so long auughh but its here so now ive completed the show #I am not planning to do head + 33 1/3 + 97 special #jonesmith #js analysis #davy jones #mike nesmith #64post #64monkees

9 notes · View notes

justlittleguysims · 2 months

Text

Project: Untitled WIP

Chapter 1. Part 1 - Creature Comforts

About this Project || Continue Reading Under The Cut

Chicago, Illinois, USA

December 18th, 2021 : 3:26 AM

Leaving work is usually a huge relief to most people, but not for Derek, especially now that his boss talked him into joining in on his newest real estate prospect, an old factory building renovation downtown. There is something about this place that just doesn’t feel right to Derek. Maybe it’s all the boarded-up windows, or the creaky, industrial-sized doors that sound like nails on a chalkboard every time you walk through one, or maybe it’s just the general liminality of a large empty space. Whatever it is, all he’s been wanting to do these days is get out of that place. The trouble is, with his line of work, leaving can often feel just as agonizing, and this night was certainly no different.

Stepping out the door leading into the back alley behind the reno site, Derek took a moment to compose himself before stepping off the stoop and away from the only well-lit spot for the next 50-60 feet or so. Looking out into the dark blue night, he noticed that the snow was finally letting up, at least for now, but he could see the distant glisten of ice on the pavement.

‘Noted,’ he thought to himself. ‘No rush, just take it easy this time.’

He exhaled, his stomach sinking at the thought of coming back here for another day’s work come Monday, but there is no use complaining, he’s not allowed to quit anyway.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the next as he walked down the steps, he could hear the ice and slush crunching beneath his chukka boots. He looked both ways before stepping off the stoop completely, just as he always did… you know, just in case. You can never be too careful.

Now for the worst part of his nightly commute, making his way down that dark ass alley. Not being able to see either side of him really puts Derek on edge, but using a flashlight and giving your location away doesn’t feel very smart either. It didn’t help that on this night, the constant sound of whaling police sirens was echoing across the entire block. Sure, this isn’t the nicest part of town, but the cops being this present in the area is a bit out of the ordinary, considering how empty everything had become in the last year.

He wondered for a moment why they were around, but then forced himself to drop the thought.

‘Nope, they’re not looking for you,’ he thought to himself, ‘just stop it and get on home.’

Walking toward the empty warehouse loading dock where he usually parked his car, he suddenly heard what sounded to him like muffled crying. He paused, turning frantically to search for the source of the sound. Gazing across the empty lot, surrounded by the abandoned factory buildings and very little else, he knew that, logically, the people who usually frequented this spot would have been long gone by now, especially in this cold.

‘That sound…what if that sound is bait.’

The dim, greenish glow of the old streetlights here was doing nothing to quell his discomfort at the moment. Slowly and quietly, he continued to make his way to his car. He must have been no more than 20 feet away when he heard a loud pinging crash, followed by a string of pain-filled curses. He turned on his heels toward a nearby dumpster where a shadowy figure was struggling on the ground.

Derek ducked behind a nearby newspaper box, where he huddled in wait, listening to the stranger try to regain their bearings.

“Stupid, you’re so fucking stupid.” They said to themselves, sniffling.

‘A girl? What- what is she doing out here at this hour?’ Derek wondered.

Derek peeked out from behind his cover, toward the dumpster. The girl was struggling to keep her balance on the icy ground as she tried climbing up onto the closed dumpster’s lid. It seemed to Derek that she was trying to make her way through one of the broken glass windows of the abandoned factory building, directly behind the dumpster.

The dad side of Derek’s brain began to scream ‘danger.’

What if this poor girl slips on that frosted metal lid while trying to grab that ledge and back onto the ground. If she doesn’t fall, she would surely cut her hands open on whatever glass may be sitting on that windowsill… and even if she did make it over, who knows what lies inside the building. There could be spiky, death machines or rotten floorboards. She could get seriously hurt!

Before he knew it, his body sprung up from hiding:

“WAIT! DON’T GO IN THERE!”

Stunned, the girl did a little hop while standing on the dumpster, losing her footing, and sliding backwards onto a hard icy ground below.

Derek’s spine tensed up at the sight of her fall. He could almost feel the sting of the ice on his own back. He rushed over, best he could toward her, trying not to land on the ice himself.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” He scrambled to help her back onto her feet, apologizing profusely. “Did you hit your head? What are you doing out here?”

The girl was crying even harder now. Shivering and battling for her next breath, she managed to mutter, ‘homeless’ between her gasps.

Derek stomach sunk again. “Oh god.”

“The cops… the-they r-raided our ca-camp, by th-the bypass. They to-took everything!” She cried into his chest. “I lost ev-everthing I-I worked for!”

She was sobbing at full force now, her body limp, and buckling down to her knees.

“They ar-arrested so many of us. My neighbors. Friends. Everyone e-else… scattered! I have nowhere to GO!”

“Wh-what about a shelter? I can drive you to one.”

“Th-that’s not how th-they work… it’s fi-first come first se-serve. They’re cl-closed by now…”

“Oh… um.”

Derek needed to think. He couldn’t just leave her here. “Um… well, first things first, we need to get you out of this cold. Uh-” he paused in mid thought. “Ah! There’s a Diner not too far from here. We can go there for now. Then maybe… I could, uh… call a motel for you to stay at tonight or something.”

“Then what? Then w-where do I go tomorrow?”

Derek sighed, “I-I don’t know. I don’t know… but I will help you get out of this.”

The girl nodded, tears still streaming down her face as she finally began to calm down.

“Come on, my car’s this way.”

“Um, Okay…”

Together they shuffled over to Derek’s car. Derek unlocked the doors, and cranked the ignition, letting the heater do its thing. He then ushered the girl into the passenger seat. Taking a step back after closing her door, he strolled around the car to lay his windshield wipers back down, brushing the powdery snow off his front and back windshields and side mirrors. Once that was done, he got in the car, suddenly remembering he didn’t introduce himself.

“Um… I’m Derek Moore, by the way.” He offered her his hand.

The girl nodded, ignoring his gesture as she laid her head up against the glass. “Morgan… Just Morgan.”

First || Next || Latest

Explore My Pinned For More Stories

#justlittleguy posting #project wip: chapter 1 #ts4 story #simblr #writeblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenshots #sim stories #project: wip #project wip: derek #project wip: morgan #my ocs #my sims #my stories #read: wip

8 notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Disobedient

Summary: Andy doesn’t like it when you keep secrets. He likes it even less when you disobey him. And this time around, it looks like you might’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

Warnings: Spanking, Daddy Kink, Brat!Reader, Mean Daddy!Andy Barber, Punishments, Elements of Domestic Discipline, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Pet Names, Timeout, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of an Anon Reader. This is part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

____

Andy Bear: Ass. Home. Now.

You glare down at your phone, feeling particularly defiant. You had long since decided that you would return home when you were good and ready. And not a moment before!

You: Nope.

Andy Bear: Excuse me, little girl. You do not get to tell me no. Especially after I already told you not to leave the house.

His text makes you shrug. You go to take another sip of your cocktail. Andy Barber could go fuck himself.

Andy Bear: You and I have a fucking discussion to finish.

You: How about you look in the mirror and have that discussion with yourself, you buttface?

Andy Bear: You had better watch your mouth, baby. You’re just digging yourself into a deeper hole.

On some level, you knew he was right, but you didn’t care. All of this over a fucking speeding ticket that you’d hidden from him. He’d found it this morning stashed in the glovebox of your car and had hit the roof.

Andy Bear: Don’t make me come get you.

You: Good luck with that, Big Guy. You don’t even know where I’m at.

Andy Bear: No, I don’t, but I think I have an idea. Either be home in fifteen minutes or I’m getting in the car and coming to get you. And I can assure you that you won’t like it.

Your husband was bluffing. He had to be. You tell yourself.

You: I have to wait for an Uber or something, so it’s going to be awhile. I’ll be fine and so will you.

____

Twenty Minutes Later…

You’re just starting your fourth vodka cranberry when you feel a suspicious presence behind you. “Close out your tab, baby. Now.” A deep voice growls in your ear, making you jump in your seat.

“I - how did you even -?” You stutter through your shock.

He shrugs before replying, “because I know that Lola’s is your favorite bar and that my wife is a creature of habit. You should have thought about that before taunting your Daddy, little one.” You shiver at the threat in his tone.

“I’ve been paying cash.” You mumble. “Can I at least finish my drink?”

Instead of responding, he gently pulls you from your seat, leaving your cocktail behind. His large hand then goes to grip the back of your neck and escorts you out. “Too tight, Andy.”

“It is not. Now get your ass in the car.” Andy proceeds to smack your bottom. Hard. Several times. “Consider that a preview. You are in for it when we get back to the house.” Your man growls, making you gulp.

You were pretty sure that you had a Mean Daddy Spanking coming your way. Fuck!

“Andy - honey, I’m sorry. Okay, I swear.” You try to plead with him. And all he does is chuckle. “Daddy,” you whisper. “Um, just how much trouble am I in?” You wanted to prepare yourself.

“When we get home, you are going to go into the living room and strip. I want every stitch off of your little body. Do you hear me?” Tearing up, you simply nod. “And then you’re going to go upstairs to fetch your hair brush and bring it to me so I blister that cute ass. I’m talking about the wooden one.”

“Noooo…” You whine softly. “Can’t you please just use your hand? I don’t like the brush…”

Your husband chooses to ignore your comment. “And then you’re going to stand in the corner for a timeout. Understand?”

You find yourself beginning to shake as he pulls into the garage, all of your earlier bravado and sass gone. Trying once more to save yourself, you throw your arms around his neck and pepper his face with kisses. “Why don’t you let me take care of you instead, Daddy?” You purr. “Let me suck you off. Want you to make me choke on your dick. Make me cry.”

Shaking his head, Andy undoes your seatbelt and then leans over to open the passenger door. “You still feel like blowing me after your punishment, then by all means go for it. Now, please do as you’re told, baby. Need you to be my good girl.” He grunts.

Stepping out the car you slowly trudge into the house towards the living room. Your husband is hot on your heels.

He crosses his thick arms over his chest as he watches you begin to remove your clothes. First, you kick off your shoes, before pulling your shirt over your head and then undoing the front clasp of your nude colored bra. And then you turn around to give Andy your back so that you can take off your pants and panties the way your man likes. You bend over without bending your knees, making sure he gets a good long look at your vulnerable ass and pussy.

Once you’re completely bare, you turn to face him. Your hands go to shield your cunt from his gaze, earning you a snarl.

“What have I told you about hiding my pussy from me? Move your hands. Now. You’re really starting to piss me off, baby girl.”

You whimper, and then do as he tells you.

“Go. Get. Your brush.” Andy orders, his voice harsher than you were expecting. “And you had better be quick about it, sweetness.”

Eyes watering, you run up the stairs to retrieve the implement from your bathroom. The tears begin to flow as you head back down to the living room. When you make it back to Andy, you see that he’s already taken a seat on the couch.

“Good girl.” He holds out his hand to you, waiting expectantly for you to give it to him. Once he’s got it, your very angry husband motions for you to lay across his lap.

When you don’t move, your man rises and yanks you onto his muscular thighs before arranging your body into position. And then he pops your ass with that damned brush, making you wail.

“I see my normally sweet baby is having a hard time listening tonight.” He hisses before popping your ass two more times.

“Tell me why you’re getting spanked.” Andy growls.

By now you’re crying, knowing that your punishment isn’t even close to being over. Daddy always made you tell him why you were being spanked. Always.

“Um, because I got a speeding ticket and hid it from you.”

“Yep. Keep going.”

“And because I left the house and went to a bar when you explicitly told me not to.” You can’t help but sniffle. “And then I was mean and snarky with my Daddy when he told me to come home, so he had to come and get me.”

God, you had so many regrets.

“Good job.” His tone is both hard and authoritative. “Proud of you for acknowledging your mistakes today.” And then that stupid fucking brush connects with your already hot backside with a sharp crack.

“Ahh!” You shriek when it comes down again. And then you begin to struggle, doing your best to wiggle off of his lap. “Ow, Daddy! Owww!”

Andy throws his right leg over your thighs to hold you in place. “I’m gonna need you to take your spanking like a big girl, baby. You earned this.”

The brush collides against your ass once more with a resounding crack!

“Daddy, I’m sorry! Slap! But you are killing me!” You cry. “Fuck!”

Crack!

You’re crying so hard now that you can feel the snot dripping from your nose.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Oww! Please, Andy, stop!” You cry as a fresh wave of pain blooms across your poor bottom. “I’m sorry, okay!?”

“Nope.” Your very determined husband snarls. Slap!

You’re honestly not sure how long your spanking lasts, Andy makes sure to wear your ass out to the point you’re convinced that you would never be able to sit again. When he’s through, he stands up your sobbing form and points to a nearby corner.

“No talking and no rubbing. I see you do either of them and you’ll get a repeat of what just happened.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You hiccup.

Into the corner you go for a timeout. Andy didn’t make you do it often, only when you had really fucked up.

“Push that gorgeous ass out a little bit. Daddy likes looking at his handiwork.” He orders softly. “Good girl. I see my baby has her listening ears back.” Andy murmurs when you comply.

Your husband sits there for a while before getting up and leaving the room, only to return after a few minutes. More moments pass, and then you hear him speak.

“Come here, little one.”

Still sniffling, you turn around and walk towards him. Daddy pats his lap. “Sit, please.” Not wanting to risk further punishment, you do as you’re told. You hiss out in pain when your very sore butt makes contact with the fabric of his pants.

Andy surprises you when he holds a bottle of ice cold water to your lips. “Drink up for me, sweetheart.” He urges you gently. “Take your time.” He murmurs as you greedily gulp it down, letting the cool liquid soothe your raw throat.

“All is forgiven.” He presses a soft kiss to your throat. “Now, did you eat before you snuck out to that bar? Tell me the truth.”

After draining the bottle, you pull away and mumble out a quick “no”. Your Daddy sighs before picking you up and carrying your naked body into the kitchen. “Drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea, young lady. In fact, it’s a very bad idea.”

He sits you on the counter and proceeds to heat up some leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. And then your Big Man stands there and lovingly feeds you every bite.

END

269 notes · View notes

criminalskies · 6 months

Note

Photo credit: Google

Aaron and Tall Reader HC's

He always moves his passenger car seat all the way back to accommodate your long legs before you get in the car.

When you start spending more nights together he gets a new mattress/bedframe to accommodate your height.

If anyone makes a "How's the weather up there," joke he shoots them a look that makes that person shut up.

He watches Tall Girl with you on Netflix and lets you complain through it the whole time.

Jack loves to play with you because when you lift him in the air (higher than Aaron even) he feels like he's touching the sky.

One night when you both come back home a bit drunk he places his hand over the door frame in case you forget to duck. He doesn't want you hitting your head.

You and Aaron can switch places while spooning and it's not awkward because you are near the same height.

Aaron laughs when he sees you in the bath for the first time because you just don't seem to fit in the small tub. You splash him with water for his actions.

Sharing clothes is easy. When Aaron comes into the office with a shirt that is not his, the team has ideas instantly.

I hope you enjoyed my love! It's domestic/soft Hotch hours.

Oh my goodess Levi the way my heart leapt seeing you have taken the time out of your busy day to go and write these for me just because I told you about my lovelife woes with my height!?!?!? you are so lovely sweetheart. Thank you soooooo much this is so thoughtful! <3 I love you.

This is so aaron. He pulls up to my place and does a double take getting out of the car bc he has to sit back down, push the seat back and then get out. I sure hope he drives a larger car too omg I have suffered enough neck pain in the name of love (take that as far out of context as you wish ;) )

God the way this would absolutely melt me. It'd be the first big proof that he's taking us very seriously, if he Buys a bigger BED just for me to be comfy at his place I'd want to put a ring on his finger then and there. Mind you he'd claim he's always wanted a bigger one and this was just the perfect excuse to finally give himself more room to spread out, but I know.

This is so necessary honestly because my frowny face is about as nonthreatening as a cranky toddler somehow so I really need him around to hand out all the stinkeyes I have trouble getting across. He wouldn't even need prompting either, he just knows when someone's being an ass.

Tall Girl actually did a number on me bc bro carrying around a milk crate for like five years just to kiss the girl of his dreams turned my brain to slime tbh. Aaron would make sure I know that he would have done the same if it was necessary but luckily his three inch thick briefcase pretty much ties us heightwise.

Jack is so mf cute and I would have to carry him always because reaching down to hold his hand when we walk would give me sm back pain ahahahahah but he can DEFINITELY catch a ride on my shoulders whenever he pleases.

I actually genuinely have the worst track record of bumping my head on doorframes bc without shoes on i'm like PRECISELY the height of the door so even 1cm boost and I'm bashing my crown. Bless him, even drunk he's so so so so SO considerate.

Ahhhhhhh yes we can pick any position to cuddle and be almost interchangeable!!!!!! I so desperately want to hold him like he's the one that's delicate and needs a little love and care and comfort because HE DOES. ALL THE TIME. Ahhh I would give anything to be able to hold him tight and make it all okay.

Yes god I have such a pipe dream of finally having one of those massive jacuzzi baths thats big enough for like a family of bears so me and aaron could BOTH fit for ... whatever bathtime activities we deem necessary! But yes. Me in your run-of-the-mill home baths is a sight to behold. Although I am known to crawl into them to talk to people whenever I'm too tipsy at a house party so Aaron would definitely have plenty of chances to cackle at my misfortune

I LOOOOOOOOOOVE this one so much! Sharing clothes with him would make me just feel that much closer to him and I wouldn't trade it for anything. If the team recognises before he's told them about us that he's starting to smell like me and dress like me and raids my wardrobe on his days off, then so be it. I would be so proud to have people know he's *mine*

leviiiiiiii I am now yearning like there's no tomorrow honey oh my goodness I need a life with him. I need it all!

#rome’s wonderful moots! <3 #the lovely levi!#rome’s got mail!#love mail 💌#HOTCH MAIL!#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner thoughts #aaron hotchner imagines

14 notes · View notes

softpine · 6 months

Note

For me the note was kind of irrelevant like it shows that Asa really didn't intend to hurt himself and just thought he was going on a litte jaunt to go find Finn but in reality whether he reveals his abilities or not it's a red flag that he's willing to hurt himself over a boy and I think you've said in the past that Beth wouldn't believe him and I'm sorry Asa but in their eyes this is the second attempt to take his own life even if he didn't mean to hurt himself and this is just a casual (?) s

i see where you're coming from, but i hope it's coming across that asa isn't doing this just for finn. i totally understand that the way i've been joking about this situation isn't doing asa any favors. i'm someone who's been affected by suicide and have felt at least passively suicidal myself for almost as long as i can remember, so i sometimes don't know how to talk about this stuff in a normal way lol

there's some stuff in your message i can't talk about yet without spoilers, but i would like to clarify asa's intentions. he may not be trying to die, but he understands it's a possibility and he's more than okay with that risk. in his eyes, he'll either find finn or die trying. that may be unconscionable to some people, and i understand that, but there's no way to get around the fact that feeling suicidal makes you a more selfish person. it just does. it's no one's fault, it's not meant to harm anyone but yourself, but the very nature of suicide means you're putting your own pain above anyone else's. please know that i only feel comfortable saying this because i've been on both sides and i know how it feels.

so to explain more about how asa feels, here's an example from my own life (this is a long ass trauma dump but stick with me if you can stomach it lmao):

when i started college, i chose to live in the dorms even though it wasn't required and was not covered under my scholarship, so i'd be paying for it out of pocket (i still am). i was so scared to leave my family and pets behind, but i thought the dorms would be an easy way to make friends on day one. none of my friends went to the same college as me, in fact my best friend went to school an hour away, which may as well have been across the country considering neither of us had a car. i signed up for a 2-person dorm room with a connected bathroom that i would share with 2 other people. but when i moved in, i was the ONLY person in that block of rooms for MONTHS. it was incredibly lonely. the whole dorm culture was nothing like i expected; everyone kept to themselves, no one left their doors open, the common rooms were dead zones, even at the dorm events/parties no one wanted to talk to me. i was just miserable. i felt like there must be something wrong with me if i couldn't make friends in a place that was literally created for making friends. and then i started to realize that every reason i had to stay alive was sort of gone now. before, i knew i couldn't kill myself because i didn't want my family to find me, i didn't want a huge deal to be made at my high school, i had a job i loved (but i got let go right before college), and i just generally didn't want to create trouble for anyone. but in my dorm? i was totally anonymous. if anyone found my body, it would be an RA whose name i didn't even remember. all my stuff was already packed into a few boxes i never bothered to unpack. in my mind, there was nothing keeping me here. it all culminated in this one random day which had started out completely normal. i bought a bunch of halloween decorations from the dollar store and i started decorating the outside of my dorm door, and i was finally feeling excited for the first time in a while, when my RA came over and made me take it all down. at that point, i was just done. i took all the decorations down and i went inside my room and i was so completely fucking ready to die. and i know that might be hard to understand for anyone who has never felt suicidal before, because like... they're cheap halloween decorations. but they were the last straw for me. now obviously i'm still here today because my plans got interrupted (actually it was a random phone call from my best friend, telling me she hated her school and wanted to know if it was too late to transfer and become my roommate; it was like something out of a movie), which i'm so fucking thankful for. but in that moment, i was ready to give up. and if things had gone my way, it would've seemed like i killed myself over $10 worth of halloween decorations.

how does this relate to asa and finn? well, losing finn is just his last straw. if asa's life was more normal than it is, he would be able to grieve the loss of a loved one and move forward with his life. it would be difficult, but he could do it with time. but given everything else going on inside his head, he simply couldn't bear one more thing. and finn is a pretty big thing. so on the outside, it may seem like asa is hurting himself over a boy, but it's not really about the boy. it's not really about the halloween decorations. it's just the last straw. and when you've hit your limit, nothing else matters. you'll start to convince yourself that no one cares about you anyway, and if they do, they'll forget about you soon enough. you can't apply real logic to these situations. but trust me, it will feel so silly when you're in a better place and you look back on all the awful, untrue things your brain said to you. and i hope you'll be able to see that through asa in the future!

this came in right as i was about to hit post jfksjds but don't worry, i didn't take it in a rude way!! you're exactly right that the note won't make anyone feel better; in fact stevie is the only person who will be able to tell what it even means. which is just further proof that asa doesn't grasp the full weight of his actions or how they will affect other people :(

#suicide tw #asks #anonymous #nonsims #brandi answers

16 notes · View notes

blvckqwz · 4 months

Text

16. Trust

“No, you have to pick from me, then I have to pick from Carl, and then Carl picks from you.” Noah explained to an oblivious Isabelle for the thousandth time, but to no use. They had been playing some card game that Isabelle didn’t really understand while the RV took them to this safe community.

Isabelle wasn’t sure that Rick trusted Aaron yet, she wasn’t sure she did either. But they needed to try. There had to be a better future than living in fear, hungry and dirty, waiting for their probably brutal death.

Isabelle picked a card from Noah, who was clearly too focussed on the game for his own good. If he kept being so stressed about a bunch of cards the vein on his forehead was going to explode. Maybe it was a way to distract himself from where they were going.

Noah was a strange individual, but not as unlikable as Isabelle thought he would be. He was eighteen years old like Beth, but he kept playing with her and Carl without any complaint, and Isabelle suspected that he enjoyed the games even more than they did. Most of the adults didn’t care what they were doing as long as they didn’t get themself in trouble or being a pain in the ass. But Noah seemed to genuinely enjoy their company even if he was technically an adult.

He was cool. Isabelle understood why Beth liked him. She missed Beth a lot. If she was there she would sing like she did when Isabelle couldn’t fall asleep back in the hospital and she would be a better teacher than Noah, so Isabelle could finally understand the stupid card game she was pretending to know how to play. Beth would have liked a safe community, Isabelle thought, so she tried to keep a positive attitude towards it because Beth would want that.

“It’s your turn.” Carl nudged her with his elbow as she furrowed her brows before choosing a card from Noah’s deck. It was a bad card, at least she thought, she couldn’t really be sure because she didn’t understand what they were supposed to do in order to win. She was starting to suspect that Noah had invented the game on the spot just so they could play something, because it was a stupid game.

“Do you think it is true?” Isabelle asked the two boys as she took a look out the RV’s window. Somewhen they had to talk about it, they couldn’t keep ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room.

“I dunno. My father doesn’t believe Aaron. I hope he’s wrong.” Carl shrugged.

“It could be safe.” Noah agreed, “With all the bad luck we had it would only be fair.”

Seemed fair to Isabelle, but unfortunately she didn’t believe in cosmical justice, and the feelings seemed to be reciprocated as just a few seconds later the RV stopped in a halt.

“What the shit?!” Abraham cursed as he stopped driving the RV.

“They aren’t supposed to do that, are they?” Rosita panicked next to him.

The three teens raised their heads to look at the scene unfolding in front of them. The car in which Rick, Michonne, Glenn and Aaron were was currently driving through a huge ass horde, running over the walkers in front of them. Isabelle would have thought it was badass if she didn’t know that the car would eventually stop from all the gore collecting in the engine.

“They are so not supposed to do that.” Tara commented.

“The hell do we do now?” Her dad asked from the seats in the back.

Abraham stayed quiet for a second, “We have to get ourselves out of here. They know what they are doing.” He finally replied.

“We can’t just leave them for themself!” Maggie protested as she got up, “What if they need help?”

“If they need help we sure as hell ain’t going to be able to help them.” Abraham replied.

Isabelle hated to admit that he had a point. She, Noah, Carl and Judith couldn’t really do much as she hated to say so. Eugene and Gabriel couldn’t either.

A flare lit the dark sky, coughing everyone’s attention away from the conversation. “Is it ours?” Carol asked.

“Nah.” Daryl replied, “But I bet they’re goin’ towards it.”

So they went towards the flare even if Isabelle couldn’t help but feel a little nervous for the ones in the car. She just hoped that they would go to where the flare came from too like her dad had said.

“Stop! That isn’t a walker!” Rosita jumped up from her seat as Abraham abruptly stopped driving. The road was dark, so Isabelle wondered whether Rosita was right or not, because in all honesty she didn’t even see if there was anything in the street, let alone recognize whether it was a walker or not.

“She’s right, that’s a person.” Maggie agreed.

“I can’t see shit.” Abraham said, “Are you sure.”

Rosita nodded, “We should get out and check.”

Now even Isabelle could see him, a man in the middle of the street waving his hands at them, dragging himself towards the RV despite a limp leg. He wasn’t one of them, that was for sure.

“It could be dangerous.” Carol argued.

“Maybe it’s Aaron's friend.” Isabelle spoke up.

Daryl nodded, “I’ll go check, keep yur guns raised in case shit hits the fan.” He decided before grabbing his crossbow and jumping out of the RV, and Rosita and Maggie followed him with their guns in their hands.

The others held in a breath as they watched the man come towards them, gesticulating like a mad man. He could really be one of Aaron’s group, because he also seemed wimpy. Then her dad raised a hand as if to let them know that it was safe, and everyone hopped out of the RV.

Isabelle raised a brow as Carl held out his hand for her when it was her turn to jump out the RV, “M’lady.” He smirked.

“What a cavalier.” She joked as she took his hand and skipped out the car.

“What can I say? I'm the best.”

Isabelle snorted a laugh as she punched him on the shoulder before they started walking towards the rest of the group. The man’s name was Eric apparently, and he was the one that helped Aaron with the survivors to bring to Alexandria - that was the name of the safe community.

It was a fancy name, very sophisticated.

A-L-E-X-A-N-D-R-I-A

Sounded cool.

“Wha’ happened to yer leg?” Daryl questioned as he pointed at Eric’s limp leg with his crossbow, “You bitten?”

“No no…” The man quickly replied before letting out an awkward chuckle, “It’s embarrassing really… I think I broke it by tripping.” He admitted.

“We’ll take a look.” Maggie said with a small smile.

A growl interrupted Eric from taking the woman. Walkers started to stumble towards them, probably attracted by all the noises. Isabelle drew her knife from her belt before stabbing it in a dead man’s head, the body crumbling down as she retracted her blade. Then another came, and she kicked it in the legs, breaking them before plunging its brain, killing it.

She could see with the corner of her eyes Maggie and Tara helping the man inside a building nearby as the rest of them killed the remaining walkers. Blood splashed on her shirt as she jabbed her knife into another dead brain, and she scrunched her nose in disgust.

“C’mon, get inside.” Her father grabbed her by the forearm before pushing her towards the building as he shot one of the walkers with his crossbow. Isabelle nodded and ran towards the rest of the group, stabbing another walker as she did so.

“You okay?” Maggie’s worried voice met her ears as she entered the building. The girl just nodded, out of breath as she rested against one of the walls. That was just the proof that they needed a safe place, that they needed to get to Alexandria.

“We oughta wait for the others here.” Her dad said as he shut the door behind himself.

Eric let out a pained groan as Noah lifted the fabric around his ankle, the skins underheat red and swollen. It was definitely broken, Isabelle thought as she sat down next to Carl and Judith.

“Why do you think they are not back yet?” Carl asked her, and Isabelle couldn’t help but notice the tingle of worry his voice held.

“They probably just had some problems with the car, they will be here in minutes.” She tried to sound as reassuring as she could, but she wasn’t sure whether Carl believed her or not.

So they just waited in silence, their knees bumping into each other as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. It was probably around 5am when they finally heard the familiar rumble of the car engine in the driveway.

Carl immediately shot up and ran outside, followed by Maggie and some others. It reminded Isabelle of when they first got out of Terminus, when she still didn’t know that her father was alive and she was sitting all alone.

An idea popped inside Isabelle’s head as she also got up, but instead of joining the others outside, she went towards Eric, who was being aided by Noah. The man said that he and Aaron were the ones who rescued the survivors. Maybe they remember the names of the ones they meet.

“Hey.” She greeted Noah, “I’ll help here, get some rest.”

“You sure?” The boy asked, “Do you know how to do this?” He questioned as he nodded towards Eric’s half wrapped ankle. Isabelle sadly smiled, “Beth taught me.”

Noah wordlessy nodded before getting up, leaving his spot for the girl.

“I’m Isabelle.” She introduced herself to the man.

“Eric.” He replied between greeted teeth.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asked as she finished wrapping the bandage tightly around his ankle. The man nodded, so she proceeded, “Do you know all the names of the survivors you meet?”

The man nodded again, “Looking for someone?”

The nervous knot in her stomach tightened as she whipped her sweaty hands on her jeans. “My mom.” Isabelle explained, “Her name is Mary.” She let out a shaky breath, “She’s got red hair and green eyes. Have you seen her?”

The girl started chewing her nails as she waited for the answer. It would take a miracle, but maybe… Eric seemed to think for a second before sadly shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I haven’t.”

No miracle for her.

“Isabelle!” Her father called as he returned to the room, gesturing to her to come over. The girl shot Eric a last glance before getting up. She didn’t really think that her mom could be there, but it was worth a shot. Then why did it feel like she had just been told that she was dead?

“Ya stay with Carl and the other kids. Hear me?” Her father ordered, “We don’t know if these people are dangerous.” Isabelle just nodded as she stared at the shoes.

“The hell were ya doin’ talkin’ to him anyway?” He questioned.

The girl shrugged, “I asked…” Her voice trailed off.

“Ya asked wha’?” Her father insisted.

“I asked if he had seen mom.”

“Oh.”

Her father’s glare turned from angry to sad, “Kiddo, yer mom is in Georgia.” He told her, “Maybe one day she’ll get ‘ere.” He said, but they both knew that it was a lie.

“I ain’t a kid.” She just spat before going to Carl and Noah.

Alexandria was huge.

Isabelle sucked in a breath as she watched the RV coming closer to the gates. She could hear people’s voices from outside the walls, the sound of their laughter echoing through the silent caravan. Isabelle almost had forgotten that sound.

“Deanna -our leader- will want to ask you all some questions. Just for precautions.” Aaron explained as the trailer stopped in front of the gates. Everyone hopped out as they reluctantly looked around. Behind them there were a bunch of abandoned buildings, while in front of them stood the walls Aaron had told them about. They were really tall, just like he said they would be. A sign was written on the front of the gates.

“Welcome to the Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the lost. Vengeance for the plunderers.”

Isabelle fidgeted with the hem of her dirty shirt as she stood next to Carl. She saw him turn around to look at one of the abandoned buildings with the corner of her eyes, but when she also turned around there was nothing there.

“What are you lookin’ at?” She whispered.

“Nothing.”

There was a ruffling sound from one of the bushes next to the driveway, and everyone raised their gun at the now fallen trash can. Isabelle held her breath as her finger lingered on the trigger, waiting for whatever was hiding in there to come out.

An opossum springed out the bush, and before anyone could do anything, her father had already shot it dead with a bolt now going from side to side of the poor animal’s stomach. The man unceremoniously picked the animal up by its tail, holding it next to his leg.

“We brought dinner.”

Isabelle wasn’t so sure if Aaron found it funny, but she knew that she did. It was road humor, they couldn’t get it. They couldn’t understand that the opossum really could have been their dinner until a day before and that they would consider themselves lucky for having dinner. They just didn’t get it.

“It’s okay.” Aaron said more to himself than to them, “Come in guys.”

Isabelle hesitantly followed the rest of the group inside the gates. She felt sick after spending all the night in the RV, and the nausea only worsened when she saw the people’s faces once they had entered the walls.

There were men, women and even children. A blonde woman stood with three kids, two males and a girl, a hand on both the boy’s shoulders. The girl smiled at Isabelle. Then the older boy whispered something in her ear and the girl's expression shifted to worry.

What a great fucking start, covered in blood and grime like a bunch of freaks while these people looked at them like they were monkies in a cage. Isabelle never liked zoos, and now she did even less, because she felt like a feral animal put on display.

A young woman with black hair was also looking at them, a boy around Isabelle’s age next to her. The woman looked bothered while the boy shamelessly grinned at them. Isabelle couldn’t tell if it was an evil grin or a friendly one.

“Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons.” A man said to them. He looked mean, like he was enjoying bossing them around. No one moved a muscle, “Stay, you hand them over.” He insisted.

“We don't know if we want to stay.”

“It's fine, Nicholas.” Aaron said, “Let them first talk to Deanna.”

Rick wasn’t in the RV with them so he asked, “Who's Deanna?”

“She knows everything you wanna know about this place.” Aaron explained, “Rick, why don’t you start?”

A walker made his way towards them from outside the gates, and Isabelle’s hand flew to the gun tucked in her waistband, but before she could do anything, Rick had already ordered Sasha to shoot it, and she did.

Isabelle could feel the nervousness in the air as all the alexandirans looked at them, with wide eyes, acting like Sasha had just performed a double backflip instead of just shooting a normal walker.

This was going to be a hard permanence if they decided to stay, Isabelle thought as she watched the blonde kids whispering something to the other teen who was still grinning.

* Isabelle and Carl decided to play tic tac toe on Isabelle’s cast since Aaron had said that she could go get it removed at the infirmary after the interview. The adults had already done their talk with this Deanna, so now it was just her, Carl and Judith, Noah, Gabriel and Eugene.

Isabelle was starting to get a little pissed that they were always put in the same rank as those two wimps, but she couldn’t say anything because it would be insanely rude. Still it didn’t seem fair. Even Judith was more badass than those two.

“I won.” Carl said as he drew a line on Isabelle’s cast.

“You cheat.” She protested as she drew a new grid.

“Not my fault I’m smarter than you.” He just shrugged.

“Keep saying shit like that and we’ll soon be able to play on your cast once I beat you up.”

“Language.” Noah said from the other side of the room, but Isabelle could see the smirk on his lips.

“Isabelle, it’s your turn.” Maggie said as she exited the room where Deanna was interviewing them, “Good luck hun.” She whispered as she gave the girl’s shoulder a light squeeze.

Isabelle’s knees felt like jelly as she got up, all the anxiety washing over her as she took a deep breath. She wasn’t good at this type of stuff. And the fuck was an interview anyway?

“Break a leg this time!” She heard Carl say as she entered Deanna’s office. Isabelle turned around just in time to flip him the bird before the door closed behind her.

The room looked cozy, with huge bookshelves full of books and a nice armchair sitting in the middle of the room.

“Hello, I’m Deanna Monroe.” A voice spoke up, making Isabelle jump in surprise. She didn’t notice the woman sitting on the other side of the room, a video camera next to her. What the shit?

“Hi.” She just murmured, “Do I have to sit?” She awkwardly gestured towards the other armchair.

“Only if you want to.” The woman politely smiled. Isabelle decided to sit on the armchair because it looked comfy. And it was she realized as she shifted in her seat.

“Do you mind if I record this?” The woman asked.

What?

“What?” Isabelle asked.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

Isabelle was confused by the question, so she replied the only logical thing everyone would say in such a situation like hers.

“I look bad on camera.”

The woman laughed, “It’s only for me to keep as an archive, don’t worry.”

Isabelle nodded, “Yeah sure, you can record this.”

“Great.” She replied, “So, your name is Isabelle, right?”

The girl nodded again, “Isabelle Bowie Dixon m’am.” She said almost robotically.

“You have a beautiful name.” The woman complimented, “How old are you Isabelle?” She asked.

“What day is it?” Isabelle asked.

The woman furrowed her brows in confusion, “It’s the tenth of march.”

Isabelle smiled, “Then I’m still thirteen.”

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

boring ass chapter sorry

#fanfic #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x oc #isabelle dixon #lost kids ff

6 notes · View notes

erintoknow · 1 year

Text

almost forgot to post this, thank you swan–

the sole thing i have ready for ockiss week ended up being a 1.2k word scene using characters from my novel project, soul rebel; featuring a poor parent-child relationship, sooooo definitely not romantic but it is angsty?

–––

Don’t panic. Steady breaths. The car jostles as it carries you over uneven road, the thrum of the engine uncharacteristically loud. ICE? Archaic. An assessment buoyed as you look between the front seats. No rear view camera, no phone port or GPS, just an open wound in the dashboard where a radio might have been once. The backseat windows are an opaque black. Looking towards the front only gives a view of a tree-lined highway, a narrow corridor. Capped by a dark, cloudy sky. Dusk? You’re not sure. Your glasses sit on you face, slightly askew. Can feel the tape pressing against the bridge of your nose. The grey-haired woman driving keeps her attention on the road, doesn’t even catch your eyes in the rear-view mirror. Her thoughts pulled close, impenetrable. That’s a technique, you now realize. One of many she never bothered to teach you. Never bothered, or…? “You’re awake.” Her voice is steady, clipped. She doesn’t wait to start into you. “Just what were you thinking?” You don’t answer right away. You’re buckled into the car seat. Body a faint halo of pain, more sore, more stiff than anything. Press of bandages across your chest. Still the same clothes, the skirt, the gloves. What does she make of that? You try the door. It’s locked, of course. “You idiot, do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it’s going to be to smooth this over?” Rivka presses. “Let– Let me out.” This is it. This is everything you’ve been worried about. There’s no way she’s letting you go now. It’s over. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” Is her voice cracking? You have to be imagining that. She exhales, breath heavy, hands gripping the steering wheel bone white. “You are in deep trouble, young man.” “Woman. N-n-not a man.” Your own voice surprises you with the protest. It catches Rivka off guard as well. The briefest moment you pick up a ping of…. something you can’t identify and then her wall is back up. You can feel your heart beat quickening in your chest as the silence stretches on. “How long?” She asks. You don’t know how to answer that. How long since you knew something was wrong? How long since you started doing something about it? Rivka must have picked up on your thought process because she doesn’t wait for you to decide on an answer. “Is that why you ran off? Why didn’t you tell me?” The question catches you by surprise, a sharp laugh at the absurdity of it. Willingly tell Rivka anything you didn’t have to? Willingly admit to weakness? To uncertainty? In what world could you honestly believe Rivka would care? “Of course I would care.” She snaps back at you, not waiting for you to voice the thought. Like always. You’ll never do that to someone else if you can help it. “You think I was hard on you because I didn’t care?” Her voice frays. You catch a hint of her teeth grinding. “You’re my s–“ She catches herself, “–my child.” That old cover story again? “I’m– was– was a–a–a test subject.” “And I have been trying to give you the strongest knowledge base I could. All while getting the results to keep things going. I was protecting you. I suppose it’s too much to hope for that you’ve finally learned an appreciation for that.” It’s all bullshit. Even through her protections you can feel it. Something she’s holding back. Lying about. Trying to manipulate you. Like always. She’s either trying to draw you back in with this absurd pretension of being a family (as if you didn’t remember perfectly well what that life had been like!) or she’s actually bought into her own lie. Either way, it’s starting to piss you off. “Let me out.” “I do care about you.” Rivka repeats. If you didn’t know her better, you’d say she sounded hurt. “If– if you care, then let m-m-me out.” Rivka doesn’t respond to that. The silence of the engine hum growing like a gulf between you. Do you make a play for the driver’s wheel? Force a crash? If the car’s gasoline, then Rivka’s going to have to stop for gas at some point on the drive back to DC. Do you wait and make a break for it then? A heavy sigh draws your attention back to the front seat. Rivka hits the turn signal and pulls the car over. Puts it in park. The only thing restraining you is the seat-belt, which you unbuckle before the car even comes to a full stop. Rivka turns to face you, her face a stone mask. The slight off-color shade of green of her left eye the only indication that it’s artificial. You mirror it back, bracing yourself. Whatever she’s about to do, this might be your chance. “If you don’t come back with me, it’ll go to asset recovery eventually. They won’t just let this go. “S-say I’m dead.” A pained expression flashes across Rivka’s face, “and you’ll do what, Morgan? Live off the grid forever? You haven’t thought this through.” “I don’t– I don’t care.” “I won’t be able to protect you. Even my power has its limit.” “You never uh– you never p-p-protected me before.” You have to take a breath, steady your voice to keep the words from getting away from you. “I can– I can… take care of myself.” “Do you…” Rivka hesitates, eyes searching your face with an intensity that forces you to look away, “really hate me that much?” You don’t meet her gaze again with only the blinking chime of the turn signal to mark time passing. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Don’t bother answering. If she really wants to know so bad she can just pull it from your mind like she always does. Rivka shifts position, reaching out a hand towards your face. You stiffen as she twines her fingers through the curls of your hair. Her nails lightly brushing against the skin of your cheek. Careful never to directly touch skin to skin. Always so careful to never touch you. And now what on earth is she–? There’s something unreadable in the expression of her face. “You take better care of that hair than I did, alright?” You stare back at her in mystified stupidity. She shifts on the seat, contorting herself to lean in towards you. The familiar strings of her telepathy weaving together in the back of your mind, pushing you to lean forward in your seat to meet her halfway. There’s a soft pressure on your forehead and for a moment quicker then you can process the totality of, it’s like you can feel Rivka perfectly. The shock of it as sharp as it is brief, the memory pulsing like an afterimage, like catching sight of the sun and seeing the ghost drift across your vision. A spasm of frustration, of grief, of so very un-Rivka-like emotion. She pulls back, dropping her hand away from you. Her face a mask again, but tighter than before. Pained, you realize now. “Be smart.” She says. “Don’t mess up again. And go easier on the eyeliner.” She turns away, facing forward in her seat. There’s a soft chunk as the doors unlock.

#my writing #soul rebel #ockiss23 #sure why not #there is technically a kiss in this #that still qualifies it i think

14 notes · View notes

fidothefinch · 2 years

Text

Familiar Stranger

Read Here on AO3

Ric swore when opening the bar door let in a gust of wind so frigid it made his eyes water. Looked like the winter storm had finally rolled in. Fat, wet clumps of yet-to-be-dirtied snow fell quickly in gusts with the wind. Shit, maybe he should have left before last call like the bartender had suggested.

“Shut the door!” someone yelled from behind him.

Ric shot a glare behind him, toward nobody in particular, and flipped the bird to the drunk stragglers left inside the filthy dive. The wind slammed the door shut as he passed into the hellishly cold landscape. He’d had to park in a garage a few blocks away and with the first step was already dreading the walk. Invisible patches of ice threw his feet out from beneath him, and he had left his hat in his car earlier. Stupid mistake.

He seemed to be making of lot of those, these days.

At least there weren’t any other people out in this weather to see him. Nobody saw him slip and fall flat on his ass, but nobody was staring at his head either. He knew the puckered skin of his scar stood out against his shaved head. He knew what people assumed when they saw it – that he was in a gang, that he was a fighter. Last week, a bartender had offered him a veteran discount. And he hadn’t refused, because technically he was, wasn’t he? He’d been a soldier for a freak in a costume who sent children into combat.

That wasn’t who he was, anymore. His life was simple. Blizzards meant no people, meant no business, meant he was going home early. He didn’t look for trouble anymore.

But trouble had a way of finding him.

He was on the fifth floor of the parking garage, pulling out his car keys, when some long-dormant instinct had him pause. He scanned the garage around him. It was almost empty, but for his beat-up cab, a junk car with a flat and a thick layer of dust, and a black van with a lightbulb logo and a ladder on its roof.

It was in the reflection of the latter’s glossy windows that he watched a group of five men approach him from behind.

Ric ducked his head and picked up his pace. He made it halfway across the garage before the five pairs of feet behind him got heavier and faster. He fumbled with his keys only a second before cursing and finally breaking into a full sprint. He turned away from his car in favor of the stairway. If he could get back downstairs, he could get back on the street and. . .

And?

Shit.

“Get him!” With no more pretenses to uphold, his five pursuers ran after him. In the reflection of the warped corner mirror above, Ric saw the glint of a gun in one of their hands.

“Oh, he’s running! The chase is the best part,” a man taunted. His voice echoed eerily off the concrete walls of the vast empty space. It made Ric’s breath loud in his own ears.

They were gaining on him fast. He hadn’t exactly been healthy in a while, let alone running, so in a bid to put some distance between himself and his pursuers, he vaulted himself over the banister without any of the grace he had had as a circus brat. He only barely twisted enough to get his feet landing on just one step, and then he was running again, bouncing down the steps in a way that made his head throb.

He was running out of breath, chest tight. There was no way he could keep this up. A litany of swear words repeated in his head.

He could hear when the men reached the steps above him. They didn’t try to jump down, but they definitely sounded faster than him as they descended. Their footsteps echoed down the steps, overlapping one another in a cacophony of noise that wasn’t doing his headache any good.

Desperate now, he fumbled in his pockets for something to defend himself with. All he had were his keys, his pain meds, and his flimsy wallet. He wound his car keys between his fingers like claws. On the next platform between floors, he found a glass beer bottle, and he scooped it up with nimble fingers as he swung around the next turn.

A gunshot.

Ric’s ears rang.

He lifted the cold beer bottle in his hand to the scar across his head, hoping it would help numb both the real and remembered dart of pain.

He didn’t see where the bullet landed, but it didn’t hit him, and he made it to the bottom floor of the steps in record time. (That he remembered, at least.) In the short time he had been inside, the snow had managed to spread in a thin blanket along the roads and sidewalks. He would leave tracks if he left now, not to mention the ice that he knew hid under that thin crust of frost. No, instead he turned back into the first floor of the garage.

There were more cars down here than there were upstairs; the first floor was, predictably, nearly full. He ran as far as he dared out in the open before ducking between two parked cars and trying to quiet his breathing.

Just in the nick of time, because the men spilled out of the stairway not a moment later. “He went inside,” someone said. “No footprints.”

Ric jumped when something slammed into metal. Still far away – a car by the steps, maybe?

“You can’t hide forever!” a man shouted. “We’re going to find you and beat your punk ass!”

Punk. That was a new one.

Ric’s head pounded in time with his pulse, but he kept one hand over his mouth to keep his breathing from being too audible. The car he crouched behind sat low, but not so low he couldn’t slip underneath. If he was caught under it, he was a goner. But if they didn’t look?

It was the best chance he had. He didn’t think he could run again.

Slow, as to not make any unnecessary noise, he slid down to his side and peeked under the car. From here, he could see that the group had split. Two sets of shoes headed toward the ramp leading back up into the garage. Two more scoured the area between himself and the steps, checking between cars as they made their way toward him. He couldn’t see the fifth man, so assumed he was guarding the exit.

They were moving faster than he had thought; no way he would make it under before they caught up to him. His head tilted back against the car door and he let his eyes rest a moment. He’s been shot once, right? Maybe, by some twist of irony, it would just getting shot again to magically bring all of his memories back. Or maybe it would kill him, this time.

He wasn’t sure he was too opposed to that.

Still, as the footsteps drew near, he tightened his fist around his beer bottle. Whatever he had been before, he knew deep in his gut that he had never been a quitter. That much, at least, hadn’t changed.

He counted the pace of the footsteps and mentally drew up a plan of escape: hit this guy over the head with his keys, run for it, hope he didn’t get shot. (Terrible. No wonder he had almost been killed before.)

He held his breath as the footsteps rounded the far edge of the car he was leaning against. His hearth thumped loud in his ears, in time with his pulsing headache – probably the beginning of another migraine.

Any moment now. . .

The lights went out without so much as a sound.

There was a thump and a shout from across the garage.

“Bill?”

Another gunshot, flashing in the dark room. It set a car alarm off, and the high-pitched siren was piercing in the air.

“Shit,” hissed the man on the other side of the car, and he retreated quickly toward the exit.

Ric couldn’t believe it. The quiet sound of flesh hitting flesh and the scraping of shoes on pavement echoed in the concrete labyrinth. He blinked, eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting – yes, this was definitely going to be a migraine — and edged forward until he could peek around the corner of the car.

Three of the men were engaged with a smaller figure. As Ric watched, one of his assailants managed to land a punch on the smaller man, and the sound cracked across pavement. But the smaller man barely flinched, moving fast enough Ric couldn’t make out more than a blur, and then the taller man was on the ground.

The movements were blurring together, and Ric raised a hand to the scar on the side of his head almost subconsciously. Medication. He needed to take his meds.

He fumbled with the pill bottle in his pocket — his hands were shaking — and nearly spilled the whole thing when another shot rang out. He managed to get two pills into his palm and downed them dry, swallowing against the familiar bitter taste.

It would take 30 minutes to kick in.

He pocketed the remainder of his pills and pressed the palms of his gloved hands into his eyes, hoping it would help relieve the splitting pressure behind them. It never did.

He sat like that, curled over his knees in pain, for an indiscernible amount of time. When the nausea and pain had ebbed enough, his fingers and toes were numb from the cold. It took him a while to realize that the sounds of the fight had stopped, and even after that it took him longer to feel steady enough on his feet to try standing, let alone walking.

But when he finally staggered out of his hiding place, it was to find that he wasn’t alone. The smaller man was still there, slumped down against the wall just inside the exit.

Ric paused as the man looked up, but he couldn’t make out any distinctive features in the dark. He had to be cold, sitting there in the wind.

“What do you want?” Ric asked, not daring to yell for fear of making his migraine peak again. “I’m not looking for a fight.” He distantly regretted leaving his bottle on the ground.

The figure only stiffened. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mechanically began to rise to his feet, clearly struggling and using the wall as support.

Shit, that voice. It was a kid. “What the hell are you doing?” Ric asked. “You have a death wish or something?”

The kid turned away from him, back into the exit. In the light from the outside street, Ric was able to make out more details, dark jeans and a navy sweatshirt that hung off his frame. He would guess homeless, if it weren’t for the shiny green combat boots. But they didn’t do him any good when he stepped outside and immediately slid on a patch of ice, sending him back to his ass.

Ric was used to this city, now. He didn’t go poking around other people’s business just like he didn’t like people poking into his. But when the kid pushed himself back up with an audible hiss, and he saw red in the fresh white snow where he had been lying, he forgot all of that.

“Shit, kid. They stab you?”

The hooded boy only briefly glanced over his shoulder before trying to stand again, one hand pressed firmly to a growing patch of dark in his sweatshirt. “No.”

But they didn’t have knives, did they? They had guns.

The guns.

“Holy fuck – did they shoot you?”

The kid was easy to read, even under the oversized sweatshirt. His shoulders tensed and his bare fingers – why wasn’t he wearing gloves – tightened against his side. “I’m fine.”

“Fuck, no. You need to go see a doctor.” The kid slipped again, and now Ric was close enough to catch him. “What were you thinking, going after those guys?” A thought struck him, and he checked his surroundings suspiciously. “Was this a gang hazing?”

“No,” this boy spat. He yanked himself out of Ric’s grasp. Asshole. “I have to go.”

“Wait –“ Ric grabbed the back of the hood and it slid off the boy’s head, revealing black hair. The boy turned toward him, and Ric could make out his face for the first time. And despite the beginnings of what were sure to be dark bruises against his tan skin, his face looked familiar.

Ric couldn’t place it.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

The kid glanced away with a “Tt.”

It came to him suddenly, and Ric stepped back at the realization. “You’re that Wayne kid.”

Something tightened in the boy’s face. What was his name? David? Jamin? “Damian.”

“What are you – are you following me?”

“I’m leaving.”

Damian turned to leave again, but Ric grabbed his arm to stop him. “No, I want answers. Did Bruce send you? I thought I made it clear that I —”

“Father did not send me. I just wanted. . . “ Damian shook his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone. “Damn right, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“My apologies. It will not happen again.”

“That’s not good enough.” The kid flinched. Good. “I don’t want to see any of you ever again. I don’t know who you are, and I’m not interested in your little child soldier pyramid scheme. You can go tell Batman to fuck off.”

Damian glanced away at the word Batman, but they were the only ones around now. Nobody’s stupid enough to hand around after what sounds like a shootout.

Satisfied that Ric hadn’t ruined their precious identities, Damian nodded. “I am sorry to interrupt your evening,” he spoke with a clear, monotone voice. He turned back toward the street.

Ric didn’t stay long enough to see where he went. He stormed all the way back to his car, fueled by his burst of anger. He had scarcely sunk into the worn upholstery before all of that energy was sapped out of him. He turned the heat on and let it begin to defrost his fingers and toes. The migraine was threatening a return, so he pressed his head back and tried to even his breathing.

What a night.

Later, when he was certain the migraine had been avoided, he would think back on the interaction. He wasn’t wearing his Robin uniform, but street clothes. Bruce hadn’t sent him. He had wanted – what, to see Ric?

And he had saved him.

And after that, Ric would curse and scour the streets for the kid, at least to offer him a ride back into Gotham.

He wouldn’t find him.

#dc #batman #dick grayson #ric grayson #damian wayne #batfam #whumptober #fido writes #no editing we die like mne #this is rough but i will spiff it up later

26 notes · View notes

ruby-the-kaiju · 1 year

Text

So because I’ve been thinking thoughts about them why not post prey/predcanons of my favorite men rn eh?

Ash Williams:

-He is super sensitive in terms of being a pred, from being ticklish to downright in pain if his prey is too rowdy the poor guy doesn’t know what to do sometimes, think about it like you have him at your bending will

-Of course ash being ash may do something stupid if he’s not careful but after awhile of experience he knows that if he and his prey are going to enjoy their experience they should both relax as it causes less trouble in the long run for both of them

-he’s super gentle with prey he wants, taking it slow for the most part and playfully teasing his prey, he’ll ask and question if his prey are alright especially if he has eyes for them :> he can’t help it

-loves feeling where his prey is, he’ll poke and prod just to make sure or just to be a little shit head

-on the opposite end of the coin if he sees you as food and a threat you might as well kiss your ass goodbye, he won’t hesitate to smother a jackass with hot water (canon btw) his poor throat will burn for awhile but he doesn’t care as long as it gets the deal done

-Ash is very mouth oriented, mouth play is a MUST for him if he truly likes you. His quips is one of the reasons but he does it to make the mood light and fun especially if he’s protecting someone by noming them (especially considering if it’s someone he loves)

-if he loves you you can bet he’s protecting you at all costs, he can’t lose anymore of the people he holds near and dear to him, but when things have died down he’s very sweet and cuddly but still very playful! And if he has eyes for you you’re never get see the end of one liners, kisses, and touching

-will literally nom his delta, he doesn’t give a FUCK he loves his car too much. But if he knows he’s nomming someone else with it he’ll make sure the delta will protect you too

-loves food play, mostly sweets though but he can’t get enough of food

-If he becomes prey he is a SQUIRMER and a FIGHTER, doesn’t matter if you’re friend or foe he just has to move about until he settles down…can you blame him though?

-He’s a fighter too, he’ll try to claw his way out every chance he gets

-But if he gets nommed by the same person enough times he’s fairly okay with it after awhile…doesn’t mean he still won’t be disgusted by being hacked up and covered in slime

-he’s just overall defensive until he comfortable

Evil Ash:

-Dude is literally reformed prey so 😩

-completely opposite of ash for the most part, he eats prey mostly just to eat as he feels like it’s one of the reasons he can stay amongst the living

-on the rare occasion will he be considerate, even then if he has feelings for you 9 times out of 10 he’s gonna make you his belly pet

-loves complementing or degrading his prey

-the quips are just as bad if not worse than his human counterpart

-his breath literally smells like death and the smell in his stomach isn’t any better

-able to reform and use his prey as apart of his army, stating he gave them a new purpose

-once reformed and he has feelings for you expect to be feeding and pampering him, he loves that

-Will purr if you go a good job

Herbert West:

-OHOHOHOHO BOY be prepared to be his lab rat cause he’s going to do a LOT

-shrinks you down with something he made

-he doesn’t mean to hurt his prey but it happens a lot of the time, teeth grazing preys skin, being too rough and quick, and more

-he writes everything down for scientific purposes

-since taking reagent he doesn’t really need to eat so thank your lucky stars if he forgets about you, at least you won’t get digested

-and he won’t sleep either, the reagent keeps him up and awake so he’s moving around all the time…good luck getting some sleep yourself

-his insides glow a hint of green due to the reagent, which you happily tell him about

-rarely will he nom prey for comfort or protection but when he does he can’t help but enjoy it just a bit

-feels practically EVERYTHING his prey does

-very stoic and only a small amount of things can get him flustered with prey so good luck

-quippy but not overbearing with it like Ash is

-mostly is quiet, so when he’s sat down and working on something that is PEAK time for snuggles with Herbert

#safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #v.ore #v0re #protective vore #sfw vore #vore thoughts #protection vore #extreme cuddling #vore tw #digestion tw #reformation

10 notes · View notes