you gotta shoot 'em in the head

Brianna O’Reilly / Courier Six || Companion AU

“Yeah, you got me. I’m a hooker. Well, hooker by day, mercenary by night. Or should that be the other way around? Either way, I’m your hired gun or your twenty minutes of fun. Make your choice.”

Race: Mixed race (Hispanic / African American)

Sex: Female

Affiliation: The Third Rail, Sole Survivor (optional), Railroad (optional)

Role: Prostitute / mercenary

Location: Goodneighbour, The Third Rail

Base stats: 7 ST, 6 PE, 10 EN, 6 CH, 5 IN, 6 AG, 10 LK

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Marked

//Chen x you 💙

Word count: 2,012

Yeah. As not to spoil anything, I will rant a little under the story. There are mentions of sex, but nothing really happens, so I’m not going to tag it as rated.


You have never seen Jongdae’s naked ass. But it’s not like it bothers you, it’s not a thing you need to see. In bed it would be quite counterproductive, so you basically never even thought about that. You see it pretty often, but clothed. You like it and because of that you tend to leave red marks all over his butt, but that’s a token of your appreciation and you don’t really give it a second thought. Jongdae’s ass is nice, tight, sculpted, and perfect for you to sink your nails in.

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wickedfairytalewriter  asked:

For the prompt thing anything bawson fluff pls? Them sneaking around or maybe when they decide to go public? Love ur soul mate au

a/n: written in the form of four mini drabbles.

one.

“We’ve gotta stop… this,” Ginny wheezes, falling back onto her bed with a flop.

Mike simply snorts and shoots a look over to Ginny before (with some great effort she proudly notes) pulling himself off the side of the bed and walking to the bathroom. Ginny unashamedly admires his naked form before sighing and turning her gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment.

“I’m serious, we gotta stop,”

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Fresh Start (Chapter 7)

Hey sorry, I wanted this up Saturday but my computer crashed. Luckily my girlfriend is a goddess and had backed everything up Friday night. I rewrote the ending of this chapter so if it’s terrible, I whole heartedly apologize. Next chapter has more Karma and Shane. And maybe Spencer and Amy’s date. I haven’t decide if I’m going to write it or fast forward a week or so. Lemme know what you think I should do.

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Clint/Coulson for @uofmdragon and @phoenixtawnyflower.

Vaguely based on this prompt: You’re an amateur supernatural hunter and I’m just humouring you by staying in this salt circle. And borrowing from the Supernatural mythos.


Clint appears at the crossroads and can immediately feel the faintest energy emanating from a Devil’s trap hidden under the dust and grit of the gravel road, a visible ring of salt spread wide. Eyebrow cocked, he glances over to the human who summoned him, and it warms the very cockles of what would be his heart when the man flinches so violently that he falls back on his ass. Clint grins and stalks towards him, careful to stop at the invisible line of the trap so he doesn’t show his hand too soon and spoil all his fun.

“Thank you for calling Hell’s Human Helpers, what deal can I assist you with today?” Clint asks cheerily, tipping his head to the side and batting his eyelashes.

The human stumbles to his feet, uselessly dusting off his suit; hardly a tragedy that it’s been dragged through the dirt, it’s hideously over-sized for him and obviously cheap and off-the-rack. Still, the human doesn’t make any move to speak, and honestly, Clint hasn’t got all day. Clint twitches his fingers and his eyes flicker red. The human startles but at least manages to stay on his feet this time.

“Uh, no. That is, I’m not looking to make a deal, I’m afraid. Sorry,” he mumbles, fiddling with his pockets until he pulls out a flask; filled with holy water, no doubt. Clint reminds himself to only chuckle internally.

“You sure?” Clint asks with a suggestive leer, rolling his shoulders back so that his t-shirt pulls taut over his biceps. “I always seal ‘em with a kiss.”

The human blushes, even as he stutters out, “No, thank you.” And isn’t that interesting?

“No?” Clint pokes out his bottom lip in a pout. “So what, you looking to exorcise me? Gank me? ‘Cause I gotta say, bit like shooting fish in a barrel here, summoning me straight into a trap.”

The human shakes his head just a tad too emphatically. “I’d like to avoid that if at all possible. I just want to talk.”

Clint lets his eyebrows arch high on his forehead as he paces along the edges of the hidden trap, carefully feeling out for where the sigil is carved into the earth. “You don’t say? Quite the Devil’s trap you’ve drawn here,” he muses absentmindedly. “Someone’s a little anal retentive, hm?”

The human fusses with his suit cuffs, but it only leaves them hanging lower over his knuckles. “Yes, well, I thought it best to be precise.”

“Yeah, never know when one little mistake could cost you, right?” Grinning, Clint steps outside of the trap’s bounds and spreads his hands out in a ta-da gesture. “Think you missed a spot.”

The human rushes back over the salt circle, unscrewing the cap on the flask with shaking fingers.

“Salt line’s a nice touch,” Clint continues as he saunters up to the rim.

The human shrugs, a jerky movement made all the more transparent by the sheen of sweat beading along his receding hairline. “I prefer to hedge my bets.”

Clint grins, shark-like, and neatly steps over the salt barrier as well. “Completely useless, of course, but points for effort.”

The human’s hand shoots out and he flings the contents of the flask right at Clint’s face. A few drops go up his nose and Clint has to buck his head back, snorting and hacking to clear out the annoying sensation of blocked airways.

He points an accusing finger at the human, moving faster than the human eye can catch so that Clint appears right in front of him and can jab his finger into the soft spot between collarbone and shoulder. “That was just unnecessary. Not to mention rude.”

Rather than cowering before Clint’s infinite evilness, though, the human smirks and side-steps him with a flourish, tossing something to the ground as he goes.

There’s a flash of light, and then Clint is abruptly surrounded by a ring of holy fire. Snarling, he rounds on the human, who smugly smiles back from the flaming divide.

The human twists his wrist and a goddamn angel blade slides from the baggy sleeve and into his palm. With a delicate twirl, all flash and no substance, he repositions it to an offensive grip. “Now then. Why don’t you tell me how an angel falls so low as to take up posing as a crossroads demon?”

serious question tho

why they always sending out fatal shots??

like you really cant shoot em in the thigh?

thats more than enough to disable me bruh 

so why they always aiming at the chest,stomach and head?

dont tell they not good enough marksmen.

you mean to tell me they take out all that muhfuckin tax to pay these niggas and they aint shit??

so its gotta be intentional

?

Author: limitlessmonster
Title: Chances Are
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Pairing: AsaNoya
Genre: Drama/Comedy
Chapter Word Count: 6600
Total Word Count: 23K
Summary: Mind-boggled” is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how Nishinoya feels in the aftermath of Asahi’s post-graduation parting gift. But after a few mishaps, he begins to wonder if he’s missed the opportunity to find out the what ifs or if there’s really such a thing as second chances.
Chapter Summary: Asahi surprises Noya with a last minute invitation, but it’s Noya who ends up being full of surprises.
A/N: Yay for updates! I was a little slower with this one because of other projects and RL things I had to deal with, but hopefully the next one won’t leave quite as much time in between. :D Happy reading!  ♡

Multichapter - Previous Chapters || CH4

On AO3

Oi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

“G’way,” Noya mumbles into his pillow, swatting the air above him to get rid of the bad dream in the form of whoever the hell is trying to force him into the waking world. 

“Not gonna happen, bro. I got reamed by Chikara the last time you made us late. Extra dive receives are not on my to-do list before classes, so you better get your ass up or I’ll be forced to drag you kickin’ and screamin’.”

Noya grumbles something unintelligible before managing a barely audible, “’m tremblin’ with fear.”

“Try me.”

Something wet digs into his ear and Noya yelps before flinching away. He groans something that sounds like ‘ugh gross!’, exaggerated and petulant like a child, and makes to get out of bed only to fall off the futon face first on to the tatami mat. “You’re the fuckin’ devil incarnate,” he mutters, still mostly asleep and trying to ignore the way his forehead throbs from where it smacked the floor. 

Tanaka grabs the crook of his arm and yanks him up. He grunts from the exertion and lays on the wheezing, extra thick. “The hell, man. How do you weigh so much when you’re, like, the size of a Keebler elf?”

“That was one Halloween, okay? And I was five. Let it go, Ryuu.” 

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