face wedges

Random YOI headcanons
  • Victor and Yuri are the kind of married-for-decades couple who sit quietly browsing their own phones while waiting for food in a restaurant, but they’re playing footsie under the table (Victor’s probably just texting Yuri strings of emojis anyway) 
  • Victor would be an over-indulgent and spoiling father, leaving poor, squishy, kind and soft Yuri to be the tough-dad
  • They start sleeping in the same bed in the winter, meaning heat-seeking Yuri always tangles up their legs and cuddles super close and wedges his face into the curve of Victor’s neck, all of which Victor is SUPER INTO, and it becomes a nightly go-to-sleep ritual habit, so they end up always sleeping like that even when it’s crazy hot summer and 100 degrees after dark, because being any further apart in bed feels unnatural.
  • Once Victor feels more psychological safety that Yuri is all his he becomes less clingy, which in turn makes Yuri emotionally insecure and super clingy. It takes a little while for them to navigate the right balance, leading to some perfectly normal couple spats, since neither of them have actually been in love or in a long-term (in their case, permanent) relationship before. Eventually by the time they tie the knot they’ve figured it out.
  • Victor’s skincare and haircare game is on point. He’s all up into Korean beauty products and does the 10-step regime and forces Yuri into it too. They face-mask together. 
  • Makkachin is an immortal doggo and will never die, I will, weeping, fight anyone who disagrees.
Darkness Devours

Summary:  Reader has been in Purgatory for a few years surviving as best she can with her companion Benny.

Characters: Reader, Dean, Benny, Castiel (mentioned)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2429

Warnings: SMUT, canon typical violence, canon typical angst

A/N 1:  I have a MAJOR Purgatory!Dean problem.  This quote from the show:  “It was blood, messy….  But there was something about being there… it felt pure.”  His pure and raw approach to hunting while there obviously made me think about what his approach to sex would be while there.  I mean look at this, how can your mind go anywhere else?


A/N 2:  Bolded text denotes dialogue from the show, credit goes to the writers.

Above gif is from Google Search.  Gif below is from @canonspngifs   The rest are from Google Search, credit goes to the owners.


Dean’s well muscled chest is pressed against your back.  His fingers trace over the rise of your hips and the fall of your waist.  He plants wet, kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder.

“I could stay here like this forever, Y/N,” he murmurs drawing the lobe of your ear between his lips.

“Mmm, me too,” you sigh.  “But I bet Sam would have something to say about that,” you roll towards him, running your fingers through his hair.

You look up at Dean, but the room’s changed and he’s standing in front of you.  His green eyes are full of sorrow as he steps closer to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, tears filling his eyes.

“I know,” you say looking away, “just make it quick.”

“I love you.”

Razor sharp pain slices across your throat…

You wake up with a start.

“Whoa, cher,” Benny coos, “we gotta move.  You ok?”

“I’m fine,” you say pushing yourself up.  “What time is it?”

“Almost dusk.”

You grab your blade, Benny offers you his hand, you take it and he pulls you up.  Together you make your way through the trees.  You spend the night on the move.  It’s safer to sleep during the day and be on your feet at night.  If it wasn’t for Benny, you would’ve been dead-dead a long time ago.  His hand is on the small of your back, a sigh escapes your lips at the safety and comfort it provides.

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Idea: Jewish Harry Potter

A lot of Jewish families assimilate - James Potter could easily have been of a Jewish family (Ashkenazi like me because I am sick of the “YOU’RE NOT POC ENOUGH” arguments - FFS I’m brown and SO IS JEWISH JAMES POTTER)

So we have:

- Harry with thick, black Middle Eastern hair that Petunia gets exasperated over

- Harry with a long, wide, crooked nose (maybe the reason he trusts Dumbledore so much is that Dumbledore has one, too - it’s canon!)

- Harry with a wedge-shaped face that makes his eyes look too close together

- Harry who tans at the drop of a hat

- Harry going to school and meeting a girl who tells him that it’s all right, he’s still Jewish even if only his dad was; he comes home so happy, only to be screamed at

- Harry quietly observing the holidays when his Jewish classmates do

- Harry coming to Hogwarts and befriending Jewish Hermione (maybe she’s Black and Jewish)

- Jewish Snape because why the fuck not - maybe he’s Sephardi and always thought James looked down on him (James’s family had a stopover in the German Jewish community for a few generations and they were of extremely high status)

- “Professor Binns, why aren’t we learning the Four Questions?”

- “Professor McGonagall, why can’t chametz be converted kosher?”

- “Professor Flitwick, can we charm a latke to never stop screaming?”


- Harry joining Hermione in the library because if there’s one thing he learned about being Jewish, it’s that we always have to question everything

- Snape muttering and/or cursing people in Hebrew or Ladino when he’s pissed off

- Mizrahi food becoming SO popular

- “But why do we celebrate only Christmas and Easter here?” Angry Jewish Harry, Hermione, and (reluctantly) Snape getting policies changed

Jewish Harry Potter.

college has done wonders for my ever-growing collection of pictures of myself, i tell ya

promises | john shelby

anon requested reader being super pregnant and john dealing with the kids

John took his time down the street, racing what was left of his cig to the door. He’d promised he wouldn’t smoke while you were pregnant but after the week he’d had he needed something on the way back. Being stuck in the van with the rest of the lads, none of who had promises to keep of their own, was torture. So he’d bummed one off Tommy with a strict warning that he wouldn’t tell his wife about the smoke unless he wanted his wife to know about the grave they’d had to dig.

The trip had been a clusterfuck to say the least, but it had ended well, and the business was sorted. The last bit of business before the baby was due. He was a free man now, for at least a couple of months, no big deals coming their way. Just day-to-day. Practically the 9-5 office job he’d planned on when you first got married. Almost.

“I promise you a boring life after this last job”. Broken.

“I promise you no more kids after this last one”. Broken.

“I promise I won’t smoke after this last one”. Broken.

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it’s raining today so have some luke+rain headcanons

  • on tatooine there were always legends/folk stories about water that poured from the sky but most people dismissed it as just a myth
  • luke first heard about rain from leia when he asked her about what alderaan was like (post anh)
  • luke first experienced rain when he was off looking for a new rebel base with wedge after anh and he was so excited that rain would just fall from the sky like that that he stood outside for hours in the rain with just the happiest expression on his face and wedge is just staring at him the whole time because shit he’s in love with this boy
  • wedge kisses luke for the first time in the rain 
  • wedge and luke kiss a lot in the rain

[ Cassian Week ] - Day 3 - favourite relationship(s)

I would fight to the death for every single Rogue One character, but I still have the dorkiest soft-spot for Cassian & K-2SO, best friends forever. :’)

not on my watch

Cassian & K-2SO + Cassian Andor/Bodhi Rook | 1611 words | below or [ Ao3 ] | part 8 of cassian said I had to

K-2’s circuits get scrambled by an electrical storm, he’s still there for Cassian when it counts.

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Within Reach

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Summary: Weeks after escaping the League of Villains, Bakugou can’t seem to get that night out of his mind. Specifically, he just can’t get the feeling of a certain someone’s hand in his from that night out of his mind.

Read on AO3: (x)

Bakugou had held other people’s hands before, okay!? It wasn’t like his mother and father hadn’t taken him across city streets and down dodgy staircases when he was little with their hands in his. Handshakes, high fives, those dumbass hand chains teachers made any group of kids younger than six form when moving from classroom to classroom…touching other people’s hands was just a part of life. Human contact and all that bullshit. No big deal.

So then why the hell was it that, ever since Kirishima had pulled him out of the League of Villains’ clutches, Bakugou couldn’t get the feeling of having that red-haired loser’s hand in his out of his head?

It’s not like it had been romantic. Far from it. Unless you call a bunch of teenagers caught in the crossfires of an all out hero-against-villain showdown where one of them was being held hostage romantic, but even Bakugou’s concept of what constituted as a ‘lovey-dovey’ moment wasn’t that skewed.

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Dean Winchester's Lyrics Part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rated: NC-17 for smut! And then there’s lots of cheesy fluff

Tagging: @daydreamingintheimpala with some birthday fluff with a hefty side of smut. I hope you’ve had a great birthday! I’ll tag the rest of you guys later!

And the prompt was “You’re still here… And you’re making pancakes.” From @creatively-charlie‘s Anniversary Writing Challenge.

Part 5

He grunted in surprise, but didn’t hesitate to catch you against him and return that kiss with fervor. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He kissed you until you were breathless and vibrating with want. He continued the onslaught of words against your mouth, his voice rough and choppy. You’d never heard him sound so desperate and at first you were stunned. “I’ll do whatever you want me to… I’ll quit hunting too… I’ll come stay with you… Fuck, I’ll-”

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whatfallsaway  asked:

"Mulder, it doesn't go in like that!" For the first sentence ask. 😉

MSR || Fluff | The Unremarkable House, pre IWTB || Teen

“Mulder, it doesn’t go in like that!”

He’s panting and swearing and he doesn’t care, face wedged stickily against the leather. One last shove and he steps back, admiring his handiwork, the worn black leather of his couch wedged at a 45 degree angle across the end of the small room that is to be his study.

‘Perfect.’ He pronounces, climbing over the arm to flop into into its’ familiar embrace, smiling back up at Scully whose white t-shirt and ponytail have somehow remained pristine across two counties and a flight of stairs.

‘But Mulder,’ she scolds, arms folded as dust motes kiss her shoulders, ‘you said you wanted it under the window and I don’t think there’s room to rotate it now it’s inside the room.’

Mulder just shrugs and sits up, reaching forward to take her hands and pull her gently against the couch’s arm, ‘We’ll work it out later Scully. Let’s take a break.’ He feels temptation soften her stance before stoicism takes over and she tries to pull away.

‘We can’t. All we’ve moved in is your damn couch. It’ll be dark soon and we don’t even have a bed and why do you even want this ugly thing and - oh!’

Scully’s objections are swallowed by gravity as Mulder risks her wrath and uses his strength to tug her over the arm and on to the seat. On to him. She tastes like dust and home, and though she squirms a little in complaint at the damp sweat of his t’shirt against her, Scully’s hands are in his hair and her hips have accepted his invitation to postpone work for a little while.

Mulder smiles into her kiss and when she sits up to discard her t-shirt, he traces one finger up the bare white canvas of her body and says, ‘The first time I ever did this was on this couch. We didn’t need a bed then…’

And Scully’s ‘Oh!’ could be understanding or pleasure but it doesn’t really matter because they are finally home. Everything the both need is right there on the couch. 

Send me a first line fic challenge

This is the prologue to the book just wanted to test it against the cover concept. I would love to hear feed back on both. Enjoy.

The only good one I’ve ever seen is a dead one.”
Men dressed in long white robes adorned with armor laugh and joke under moonlight. A dancing fire warms them in the cool dessert sands.
“If I could, I’d hang every last one of them,”
says the guard with a scar through his right eye.
He stands taller than the other guards, with an unkempt beard. He runs his finger along the scar and continues.
“Well I mean, the feisty women can stay around. Am I right?”
They all laugh. One of the guards speaks up and says
“I’m sorry my friends. I might be single-handedly responsible for their population increase.” He continues, “When their women say no it sounds an awful lot like yes to my ear.”
They give hearty laughs as they take turns sipping from a big gourd with who knows what poison inside.
Not too far from their location in a shanty a mother stirs a small cauldron over a fire. Inside the cramped quarters other women and children also wait for a bowl of the broth being prepared. There is barely enough to feed all the mouths living here. They are not all related but to this huts inhabitants, this is family. The night seems still, calm and quite. The stars are shining on high. Perfect would be the best words to describe a night like this; only perfect is non-existent and short-lived in the district of Itami.
Four guards enter the micro dwelling by force, swords and malice drawn.
“My, My! Look what we have here”
The man with the scarred eye enters from behind three other guards. He walks towards the aroma in the room.
“This must be where you’d find the sweetest bitches!”
The guards all laugh at this as he grabs the woman in front of the fire. As he takes her into his arms the woman doesn’t speak a word.
“What are you making bitch? You look like something to eat yourself” he says while stroking the side of her face with the blunt side of his dagger.
The cool sensation from the steal almost freezes the tears beginning to fall from her eyes. The children begin to cry as the men stomp around.
The smallest child, a young boy cries, “Mommy!”, as he lunges for the dress of the silent woman, still in the clutches of the scar faced man.
The man looks down and presses his sandal against the child’s face, wedging him away from his mother and pulling the woman closer. The guards grab the other women who shared the hut and begin dragging them out.
The struggling women plead, “Please sir, don’t do this! We have nothing to offer and you Tu-su have everything.”
One of the women says “All we own are our lives!”.
“You’re kind doesn’t even own that much!”,
the scarred man mutters with a chilling tone.
The silent woman is still tight in his grasp and the children still weeping as they watch the women being taken outside. The silent woman stares through tears at the scared faced man. Her stare is so hot with hatred that her tears could evaporate as they pour out of her. Still she doesn’t speak a word, not even to plea for her life.
“Wood or steal?” the man with the scar face whispers in her ear while grabbing his excited cock which is now bulging and pressed hard against her lower back.
The woman jerks her body free of his grasp. She grabs the youngest boy and runs out of the dwelling. She puts her hand over the mouth of the child to quite him as she sprints through the maze of streets. The scarred faced man and one of the other guards give chase. She ducks behind some curtains and enters a random hut. She places the child in the arms of an older woman and raises the woman’s hand over the child’s mouth. The older woman begins to speak with a look of shock to ask what is going on but before she gets a word out the silent woman then turns and fleas again.
Outside the older woman can hear a man yell,
“Got you! You Su-su bitch!”.
The guard grabs her arms as she is about to turn a corner.
Out of breath from chasing the woman he says,
“Lucky if your cunt is as slippery as you are!”.
The scarred faced man walks up to them as she struggles to release herself from the guards grip. As he approaches them he says through a sickening smile,
“Ah, I see you’ve chosen both, wood and steel!“


“Pretty! What do we blow up first?”

                 –Star Wars: Wraith Squadron

I notice while drilling that people pretty commonly form the hangings incorrectly, or at least, they could form them better.

They are the most important guards in the German tradition, or in the words of the masters in the MS.3227a, “All techniques start and end with the Ort, thus the Hängen and Winden are the begin and the turnings around the centre and many good fencing techniques stem from this.”

The hangings are, of course, the Ochs and Pflug guards. Here are some points about them:

They present a threat and are thus the safest guards.

And however you fence, always turn the point against the face or the chest of the adversary, so he has always to watch out that you do not move prior to him. - MS.3227a

The hangings place the point such that it threatens the opponent. If they wish to “snipe” you or rush in and overwhelm you, they must deal with the point of your sword first. Otherwhise, they will impale themselves.

You can make attacks quickly from them.

Just like as a string would be attached to the point which would pull and turn his point to the nearest opening, as to achieve the thrust. - MS.3227a

The thrust is the fastest way to attack with a sword. When you are in one of the hangings, no time is wasted “setting up” the attack and indeed, if the opponent closes the distance, the guard itself is a threat. If the hanging is properly formed, one need only move their arms forward to drive a thrust.

They are the position from which you make windings.

Who correctly hangs well,
And brings therewith Winding,
-The Zettel

The windings in their most essential form are nothing more than transitions between the hangings while maintaining sword contact. The mechanics of hanging and thrusting remain the same - keep their sword away from you while you “seek” with the point for the opportunity to cause trouble. Forming hangings well while winding gives you more opportunities to exploit openings by ensuring the point passes over the target while transitioning and performing techniques, and reduces the “set-up” time to deliver a thrust when the moment comes.

They are the end-point of attacks.

And from the same strikes come the four displacements from both sides, with these you break and defeat all strikes thrusts or guards and these also lead to the hangings which can be very well be used for artful techniques as you will hear later. - MS.3227a

Ending an attack in a hanging is a fairly fundamental characteristic of Liechtenauer’s longsword. If you read through the plays you will notice that the first and second intent almost always flow together in this way (cut and thrust, cut and wind, cut and mutate, etc) In addition to this, they afford you protection against counter-attack - for more detail on that I have a post about versetzen.

And here are some things I see people not getting down-pat:

The point should be online.

Our sources tell us to aim at the face or breast with the point when we drive a thrust. If we stay online in a hanging, we don’t need to do any extra work to line the point up for thrusts. It also creates an immediate threat to the opponent. As for where exactly to aim the point - I usually find the breast to be a safe bet. The target area is of greater mass than the face and has a lesser range of motion making it harder to void attacks against. The face of course has the advantage of being a higher target and thus easier to reach. It’s fairly contextual and you’ll have to figure that out yourself.

The hilt should be offline.

People often don’t commit to defending an opening and opt to leave their hands (and the hilt) in the centre-line. Since the hangings are shortened, this endangers the torso to “sniping” attacks. It is better to commit to an opening and place the hilt out into that opening. This creates a “wedge” facing the opponent which will deflect incoming blows away from your body.

The crossbar should be in front of your body.

This is espescially important when forming an ochs. The cross is the last line of defense against incoming attack, and in a hanging, it’s usually where the opponent’s attack is going to end. You want their attack to end before it hits you.

Angulation of the crossbar.

This isn’t really detailed in sources, but is a pretty big deal. Your crossbar needs to be positioned such that you can “catch” attacks with it. The best way to hedge your bets seems to be placing the cross on a 45 degree angle with one of the quillons pointing towards your chest. This is again super contextual. If you are planning to scoop an oberhau up and sweep it away you might form a pflug with the crossbar flat. If you are in ochs expecting a zwerchau you might place the cross vertical.

Imagine being taken hostage while on the phone to Rafael

Part Two Here 

Imagine being taken hostage while on the phone to Rafael

“Can we please pull over, Sonny? I’m dying over here.” you pleaded with your partner Carisi from the passenger seat.

“The more we stop the longer it will take to get home. We literally just got into the city. One more hour and we’ll be home.” Sonny tried to reason.

“But I have to pee and I’m super hungry.” you complained.

“You just had lunch.” he countered.

“Just?! That was five hours ago.” you pointed out.

“It’s been that long? Alright, but you’ve been snacking the whole drive back.” you commented.

“Yeah, but I ran out like a mile ago.” you complained.

“And you’re already hungry?” he asked shocked.

“Would I be bothering you if i wasn’t?” you replied sarcastically.

“Probably, yes… Alright, I’ll stop at the next service station. You happy?” he sighed giving in.

“Yes,” you smiled as you started meddling with the radio, getting quite annoyed with Sonny’s pop music playlist.

“Hey, driver picks the music.” he commented swatting your hand away.

You looked up at him from your crouched position, shocked. Your mouth hanging open about to protest.

“What?” he asked glancing at you momentarily, “You made me watch the show all of last night. Did you not think that I would pick up a few things?”

You and your partner Sonny were driving back to the city from upstate. Liv had sent you guys their to get a reading on one of your latest victims who was visiting the city on Spring Break. You stayed their for a day, learning semi useful things about your victim before Liv asked you to return back. It was too late to drive that night so you had stayed over at some seedy motel.

Only the best for New Yorks finest.

Last night, you’d called your boyfriend also your ADA, Rafael, after Sonny had fallen asleep. Typically, enough he was still working at his office which you learned after you tired and failed to call the landline at your apartment. You berated him over the phone, telling him he had to get into good habits and that he couldn’t keep having all nighters at the office. He just laughed at you and asked if you were okay. He was being much kinder to you lately which I guess was understandable but you still didn’t like it.

“Here we are.” He said pulling into the gas station.

“Thanks, do you want anything?” you asked unbuckling your seatbelt quickly and placing your hand on the door, ready to exit as soon as he answered.

“Get me some chips. I’ll fill up the car. We’re running low on gas.” he said unbuckling his own seatbelt and getting out the car.

You raced to the bathroom and relieved yourself. After that you wandered down the isles looking for Sonny’s chips and something to eat for yourself. The store was dimly lit, the fixture flickering spasmodically. It was a bit grungy and small but it would do. The clerk who was middle aged man was reading a newspaper at the till. Their was a young couple at the other end of the store,by the beer fridge was an old man and by the magazines a young man in his early twenties. You were browsing the chip section when your pocket started to vibrate. You pulled it out to see your favourite name flash onto the screen.

“You better still not be at work.” you said down the line.

“Well, hello to you too.” Rafael chuckled down the phone.

“Well?” you prompted.

“I’m about to leave.” he lied.

“No you’re not. I can practically see you getting comfortable. Leaning back to your chair. Piles of court documents surrounding you. A big annoying smile on your face.” you argued wedging your phone between your shoulder and face while picking up a bag of chips only to drop it when you saw the sell by date.

“You know me too well.” he sighed.

“Mmm.” you agreed still browsing.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Just got into the city. Though to be more exact I’m at a service station, trying to find some food.” you whined.

“Aren’t you always trying to find food.” he teased.

“Yeah, but I’m always marginally more successful when in a store.” you replied trying to be serious.

“Only marginally, of course. Seriously, though Y/N, how are you?” he asked his voice laced with concern.

“I’m completely fine. Trust me. I feel great. Relax.” you stated trying to soothe him.

“I know, I know. I just worry.” he sighed.

“The big bad ADA, worries. Who would have thought?’ you teased down the line, finally finding Sonny’s favourite chips and placing them into into your basket.

“Only about you. Alright, so you’re okay but what about…?” he indicated before trailing off.

“Sonny? He’s fine. He’s filling the car up and I just got him his favourite chips.” you answered shaking the bag audibly to avoid the question.

“That’s great but I think you know who I was actually referring too.” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you smiled, “You mean bubbles.”

“Bubbles?” Rafael repeated confused.

“Yeah that’s his nickname.” you stated picking up a chocolate bar and inspecting it.

“Why?” he asked still confused.

“Because he gives me tummy bubbles.” you shrugged.

“You mean butterflies?!” he attempted to correct.  

“Yeah, but if I call them butterflies. His nickname will be butter and that just makes me think of butterfingers and you know how I feel about them.” you countered bitterly towards the end.

“Right, they’re the ‘bane’ of the chocolate bar community. You’re insane.” he sighed and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead.

“Well let’s hope he inherits your mental state then.” You joked.

“I’m sorry he?” he asked curious.

“Yeah he.” you repeated instinctively putting a hand to your stomach.

“You think it’s a boy?” he smirked.

“Well I want it to be a boy.” you admitted honestly inspecting a supposedly fresh cheese wrap.

“I know you do but it could also be a girl.” he smiled.

“And you want a girl, don’t you?” you teased. 

“And you don’t?” he questioned.

“It’s not that I don’t. It’s just that it would be easier if it was a boy. I’ve already raised one, remember. He turned out pretty good you know. He goes to Stanford.” you smirked referring to your younger brother.

“Yeah, but this time it’s different. You won’t be alone. You’ve got me and with both our combine efforts this one might go to Harvard even if it’s a girl.”

“Or Yale.” you added as the bell on the store door rang out.

“Or Harvard.” he interrupted repeating himself to ensure he was clear to you.

“Let’s agree to disagree. You better be at home when I get there. I’m giving you an hour  head-start.” you joked catching sight of a guy in a black hoodie approach the checkout, probably whoever just walked in.

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving.” He as he audibly stop up and began shuffling papers around.

“As am I.” You said skirting the isle and beginning to walk to the checkout yourself.

“So did you actually find something to eat?” he asked.

“Expect a chocolate bar, no. I’ll probably share Sonny’s chips.” you responded.

“Are you sure…?” he asked cautiously.

“You’re right. I should get my own.” you nodded doubling back and grabbing it.

“I think it would be the best.” he agreed laughing.

“Anyway I’m going to let you go.” you finished turning your head to see a sudden loud argument at the checkout.

“I’ll see you later. I love you, Y/N.” Rafael said distracting you.

“I lov-…” you started before being intuited by the sound of two loud bangs.

You knew exactly what they were. Gun shots. You ducked instinctively. Clinging into your phone with one hand and place the other on your piece on your hip.

“Y/N?” a frantic Rafael called down the line.  

You peered round the corner to see the desk clerk, lying on the floor, blood pooling round him. Th shooter had start to begin pacing before shooting two shots into the ceiling.

“Nobody leaves! Everyone stays.” he demanded but his voice shakily.

The couple and the old man were much closer to the till, the shooter waved his gun in their faces.

“Sit.” he commanded to them, growing in confidence.

All four followed his commands sitting with the backs up against a fridge, the store clerk lying dying in front of them. He hadn’t seen you. You were standing an isle behind him. The store was small. But you couldn’t run up to the door in fear you get two shots in your back.

“Y/N?” Rafael called out again, quieter this time his voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine… call the police.” you whispered shakily bringing up the phone to your face before quickly dropping it again.

Then suddenly the shooter turned. You moved your hand from your hip to hide the gun you had on your hip and you shoved your phone up your shirt sleeve to hide it. He caught sight of you. You looked him dead in the eye and froze. He started shouting commands at you but you couldn’t hear. Then he rushed up to you and waved his gun frantically in your face.

“Didn’t you hear me bitch, move.” he shouted at you but you could still sense slight fear in his voice.

You put your hands up in surrender, careful not to show your phone. He circled round you and pressed the barrel of the gun into your head.

“Move.” he ordered.

You started walking towards the other hostages. Breathing heavily, taking small cautious steps so not to spook him and accidentally shoot you. You guess he got frustrated with waiting for you and removed the gun from your head and shoved you forward. You were quick enough to steady yourself but your phone dropped on to the floor. It let out a loud crash and the shooter went to pick it up.

“You called the cops?!” he spat picking up the phone quickly but not checking the number.

“I..” You mumbled purposely deciding how you were going to play this.

“You little bitch.” he yelled, throwing the phone onto the floor and stomping on it heavily before shoving you once again.

By now you were by the other hostages. His shove forced you face first into the glass door of the fridge. You steadied yourself after impact and you slid onto the floor. Right beside the old man. Leaning against the floor you repositioned yourself to the upright sitting position. Your head was pounding and you quickly turned to the other hostages who had looks of horror on their faces. The old man gestured to your head. You put up your hand and felt blood. Lowering your hand to confirm.

You let out a long laboured breath before looking up back at the shooter. He had begun facing again, talking to himself in hushed whispers. Then the sound of sirens rang out and became loud. the shooter suddenly ran to the window and peered out of the shutters. Before he began pacing and talking to himself.

You watched him. Formulating a plan to get everyone out of here alive. You looked at the now dead man in front you.  You weren’t going to let anybody else die today. You then placed a hand on your stomach, remembering. It wasn’t just you in danger anymore. It was the both of you.

The both of you had to get out of here.


REQUEST: Imaginary Lover Part 1 [Ardyn/Fem!Reader]

Originally posted by datamarluxia

This was originally going to be a oneshot… but my thirst for Ardyn is too great. As a result, this may be another Ardyn series of mine (I already know how it’s going to end though… >.>…)… but each part might be more smut…

Keep reading

episode 8 speculations: wedge antilles shows up and goes to greet luke skywalker. he pauses suddenly. “what is it” says luke. a close up shot up wedge, then one of luke. 

“what is that…on your face”

“it’s a beard?”

wedge leans in very close so hardly anyone can hear him and puts his hands on luke’s shoulders.

“oh my god. luke, oh my god. shave it or i am never talking to you again”