Pro Genocide Weirdos Who Are Defending These Atrocities Are The Scum Of The Earth.

Team 141 seeing female reader take off her shirt to train with her friend and seeing she has scars all over her body because she was tortured (burned, knife cuts, bullet wounds, whipped, ect) and reader having a visible pack (I don't care how many packs)

And the boys feeling sympathy for her but also blushing at her body ☻️🤭

You can decline if ya want I don't mind

Should I make Konïg, Las Vargas maybe even add Graves and Valeria versions?

TF 1-4-1: Ghost, Soap, John, Gaz.

don't forget to leave request!!! please!

warning: Torture, no details given. Horny men...little innocent reader, English isn't my first language, my writing!

It was a hot day, and luckily the team didn't have any mission. So they were chilling in the training ground.

It was intimating to see a group of tall and build men sitting and staring at the horizon. Weird too, isn't it? but not when you follow the line where their eyes were so focused on.

In the distance, you stood. Back straight up, as your friends chat with each other. You, on the other hand, were standing waiting for something.

From under the shade, they could see all your expressions, or rather the lack of them. At least, they could admire the stars in your eyes, your pouting plump lips.

It wasn't strange for the TF 1-4-1 to admire you from afar. It became a habit they picked. If you give them a chance they will worship the ground you walked on, not like they aren't already.

They just don't want to hide it anymore, but for now, it will do until you notice their efforts, then maybe things will be different, it all depends on you.

"First, it will be (Y/N) against (your friend's name)" Queu to a groan and a few complaints, while you emotionlessly walked pulling off your mask, and your t-shirt. Leaving yourself bare with only a sports bra as a cover.

It caught the 1-4-1 off guard, especially Ghost, who noticed the ghost's hands, each one holding a breast.

Here comes the train of unholy thoughts.

It sends waves of arousal to warm their stomach and crawl up their spine, as they drank in your form. Each curve, each scares, every inch of you was been craved in their minds.

The men turn away shifting from one foot to another uncomfortably trying to ease the blood rushing down there if you know what I mean.

Some were rubbing their eyes and faces as if it was trying to get rid of the image of you standing there... In only a bra and military pants, but we both know that they were craving it in their mind for later. All for everyone to see, causing a fit of jealousy to bloom in their chest.

Damn you and your body. They thought. Fighting the strong urge to relieve themselves, which could be only done in the bedroom away from prying eyes.

Here comes another unholy thought.

Didn't you know the effect you had on them? Or maybe you know, either way, you really need to stop teasing, or punishment may be the only way for you to understand what you made feel.

They all groaned, for god's sake, they were grown-ass men, not some high school girls stalking their crush.

Fuck!

Why their pants are getting tight?

It was weird for you to show some skins, not like you didn't look great. You looked more than great, but after one horrifying mission, you stopped showing even your hands.

Ghost was present with you that day. He had to watch unable to do anything, as they torture you over and over again for days, and the scars on your body were proof of what you had been through. You screamed still hunting his mind, verytime he closed or opened his eyes.

He blamed himself every second of the day, because if he had listened to you and didn't leave you alone, you may have been able to fight the enemy together, and neither you nor him, would have been captured.

You ran a hand through your hair, before putting in a high ponytail. Getting in your position and the boys remarked how your eyes were closed. You didn't even open them when your friend was attacking you left and right. You avoided all attacks, without breaking a sweat. As if you sense his movement, your movements were smooth too. Much different form military training.

Price, unlike the others, was more interested in your abilities Why are you lying? he had read your files. All he could say that is he was impressed. He tried getting you on his team, unfortunately, you had taken two years off the military to heal from your last mission.

He had heard from Lasweel, that you looked like a mummy when the doctors were done. They say it was a miracle that you survived, sadly, the scars will be forever graved on your body, just the memories in your mind.

Now you were back, with a few rumours lit up like fire in the woods about you. They were all absurd of course, yet some seem to believe them, resulting in them avoiding you like the plague, but you didn't seem to mind. Actually, he had noticed how agitated you become when you share the same space as someone else.

You are always tensed and on guard, whenever someone was talking to you, the only person who you seemed to ease around was Soap, who the moment notice your packs accidentally when you were training together, was stuck like the glue to your side.

You never pushed him, you responded to every question he asked, like patient parents with their children, and somehow you were able to understand his weird choice of words, and even then you spoke few words, only listening and humming along the way.

That gave Gaz some courage, to try and talk to, and boy did he feel bad!

Gaz was one of the people who believed the absurd rumours. He found them to be real. You never tried to prove him wrong, until, he sat by your side, as you prepare something to eat.

Soap had practically dragged him, to meet his crush you. For a movie night. You didn't speak much, you just listen attentively to each word that comes out of Soap's mouth, and he could a crossed smile, even it was small each time Soap throw a joke, no matter how bad it was.

He watched you all night eyes only focusing on you. In his mind, he was watching waiting for one wrong move, while his heart was memorizing each part of, each move and the reason behind it. Maybe that's how he knew you well.

You didn't do anything that night that proves that you were the person in the rumours. You weren't arrogant, and even with the little emotion you had shown, he was able to conclude that you were a good person, just broken.

That's how you become close with Gaz, not like how you were with Soap but enough for you to salute him or pat his shoulder or head. Which always flustered him.

A few minutes into the fight with your friend and you already tackled them. You, on top of them, hand behind their back comfortable setting on their back.

They start wiggling under you, and for a moment 1-4-1 halted in their movement eyes intensely watching your breast bounce.

"Fuck" they cursed under their breath. They knew it will be better to leave, yet their body refused to obey their brain and move.

You turn to get your shirt and gear and leave when you saw 1-4-1 standing under the shade. You politely waved but none of them seems to notice you, from where you stood, you could see the tips of their ears red, some were hiding their faces between their arm supporting their weight with the metal bars in front of them.

You, being the innocent female lead, you titled your head, worried that the sun may be the cause of their redness.

You took the bottles before walking to them after it you offered them to them. They all took it gratefully before shrugging in down.

You escorted them back inside, as you watched them walking. You took notice of the awkwardness in the air, with a hint of ginger and peppermint. You knew what it was.

They were scent caused by sex pheromones, so why do they smell like that?

Oh, if only you knew!

Fandom I take request for:

xf!reader

xm!reader

xgn!reader

Nbc Hannibal.

Teen wolf.

Peaky blinders.

Harry potter + Fantastic beasts.

House of dragon + Game of thrones.

Call of duty.

Doctor who.

Lord of the rings.

Hobbits.

Marvel.

DC.

The sandman.

The vampire diaries + the originals + Legacies.

Vikings.

The boys.

The walking dead.

X-men

.............

Don't foget to leave a request!

Who did this to you? - 7

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing, gun, fights

Word Count: 2.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part6

Rays, molten gold, heralding the dawn of a new day, a new chance, poured through the dense layer of wandering clouds. The smell of rain was in the air. Light beamed down on the couple, saying farewell to the man leaning against the door frame with his arms folded in front of his chest.

The mischievous grin had vanished from Alfie's lips, swept away by the wind. Smiling, he embraced Y/N wrapped in a warming blanket and a button-down reaching to her knees painted in blueish and greenish hues.

            "I'm sorry. I had to do it, little one." Alfie whispered into her ear.

            "Thank you," Y/N replied.

The woman, weakened by the burden, leaned her head against his chest, embraced him, but the fingertips did not touch. Her heart bore no hate for the man. His hands slid down her back and released her. The warmth, the sparkle in his eyes was gone and stared at the Shelby with a warning look. Alfie uttered no admonition, did not curse Thomas, but his eyes piercing the air spoke volumes, telling him to watch over her, to protect her with fists and heart, guessing if Thomas didn't change, he would lose the young woman forever.

            "Thank you, Alfie." Thomas voiced.

The addressed nodded with a wicked grin as his tongue licked over his bottom lip.

            "If the Shelby doesn't change, then you know where to find me Y/N/N." Alfie teased, yet there was a hint of seriousness in his voice.

Thomas rested his hand on her lower back, said nothing in response, had heard the words loud and clear, the judgment, the laughter, but the silver tongued man couldn't speak, nor raise his voice against the man who had saved his wife and allowed him to save the ruins, the debris of his from afar perfect looking marriage.

The delicate hand, giving him warmth and strength, the hope of a fairy-tale ending clasped his. The couple turned, walked towards the vehicle parked awfully a few steps away from the front door. Keys jiggled. Thomas readjusted the blanket wrapped around her shivering form, concealing her shoulders, had spotted the goosebumps spreading over her flesh conjured by the rising breeze and led his wife to the passenger side.

Elegantly, as if it was the first date, Thomas opened the door for his wife, lifted the blanket with sullied corners and closed the door. Smiling, he raised his right hand in a welcoming gesture, thanked Solomons again for what he had done and got into the vehicle.

            Gasping, Y/N leaned her head against the window. The coldness eased the pain. Colours merged, the lush green of the trees with the wandering clouds engulfing the rising sun. Reddish rays kissed the awakening land. Cawing birds circled the fields and roes fled in great haste, jumping over fallen trees and hurdles into the forest. Trees fenced the deserted road. Words did not escape, but the silence was not troubling and Y/N thought she could hear the ravens singing.

He remembers, Y/N though. A weak smile spread across her lips. Thomas was reaching for her hand, fearing she would flinch, but Y/N let it happen, allowed him to clasp her hand. Wounds healed under his tender and caring touch. His thumb travelled in circular motions across her skin.

            "I've taken the rest of the month off," Thomas announced.

His eyes slid to her, turned away from the uncrowded town, and followed the road leading through the awakening city. The shops were still shuttered and students, a few shopkeepers, bustled about in the streets still lightened by swaying lanterns. Patiently Thomas waited, hoping she would answer, but her lips were sealed, not seeming to want to speak, desiring silence to reign.

            "I was thinking we could leave the town. I could rent us a hotel; we could spend a few weeks there and spend time together. Far from London, the family, my responsibilities and getting to know each other better. It would do us good." Thomas hesitantly continued.

A sparkle of hope ignited in his eyes.

            "Of course, I understand if you don't agree. Please take all the time you need. I understand. I can wait." he added, sounding nervous.

Thomas looked with anticipation, a little sparkle of hope, down at this wife.

            "It sounds nice," Y/N spoke.

Her gaze was focused on the road framed by houses mirroring each other, with gardens of wilting flowers and mourning trees, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her husband was smiling. The words were gentle, and she hoped he wasn't kind to lure her into his embrace, ashamed to file for divorce, fearing the stares people would give. Y/N chuckled, realised it was Thomas Shelby she was thinking about. A man women would kill for. A strange, indescribable feeling built up in her stomach. The pit deepened. Y/N leaned forward. Her eyes glided over the road, back and forth, from house to house. She tensed under his touch. Y/N searched for the answer. The pit in her stomach turned into a vortex, a wave swallowing life, islands and ships.

            "What's wrong?" worriedly Thomas inquired.

The car slowed not to a standstill, rolled not faster than a walker. Fear reigned in his troubled mind, fearing the worst, found no blood escaping her limbs, an undying spring staining the rough fabric. Hectically, he searched for the reason for the pain, the fear in her watering eyes. Her fingers loosened in his touch, slipped away into the void, the source of darkness, all evil.

            "Y/N/N." Thomas spoke with a breaking voice, rousing her from her rigidity.

Speechless, gasping, Y/N pointed at the house. The sun was rising, yet yellowish light was burning in the living room. The curtains were ripped in half. The door was ajar, opening in the falling and rising breeze. Lips did not touch. The rain had washed the traces of gore from the sidewalk.

Eyes grew dull, grey and misty, deep autumn.

Shaking, a muffled scream ripped through the silence. The brakes chased the birds lingering in the nests away. Ignoring the voice, roaring thunder, telling her to turn, Y/N jumped. Her throat was aching. Y/N did not turn, raced, heard his voice forcing her to turn, to wait, but she ignored him like a child. Pushing the gate open, she felt the stabbing pain in her side, but did not halt and followed the path.

A hand forced her to stop, to not dare to take another step. Thomas pressed her hard against his body, pushed forward and forbid his wife to enter the house. Y/N protested, cried out, screamed her name, struggled with veiled eyes, tried to resist, but Thomas was too strong.

He rose, a shield of protection, the last wall of defence, stronger and thicker, unclaimable by the enemy with ladders and spears. The shards on the floor, once a vase graced by hundreds of finely drawn ornaments, caused Y/N to gasp. Thomas placed his hand on her head, almost brushing her eye, felt the long lashes under his touch, covering her ear and feeling her shrieking heart colliding with his skin. Drawing the pistol, he aimed at the door, had searched for the enemy beyond the tinted windows, but no figures were lurking in the house.

            "Stay behind. Do you understand?" he commanded, whispering into her ear.

It wasn't a question. Eyes grew in fear. She had never heard this sound in her whole life, had heard tales about it and the tone send a shiver down her spine. Before Y/N could tell him to wait, to ask to get someone so he wouldn't rush into the house alone, Thomas released her from his rigid grip. Cursing, Thomas kicked the door open. The doorhandle marked the wall, broke through the wallpaper and rammed into the porous wall. He stormed into the house. Thomas called out, but the second he stepped into the building he knew, felt it in every fibre of his body, that nobody was left there to suffer a slow death.

            The receiver hung from the cord, dangling back and forth.

Swiftly Thomas searched the living room followed by the kitchen, shouting but getting no answer and when he was sure no one was hiding in the corners, he turned to face his wife rooting into the screaming wood. Y/N pointed at the receiver. She shielded her lips with her palm. Tears streamed down her face. She tried to close her eyes, but she couldn't do otherwise than stare at it, at the fragments crunching beneath his hasty steps.

Flowers were trampled, the reddish petals mudded and dried. Stains had eaten into the carpet and a dark crust had formed. Nail had left deep marks on the wallpaper, a cat scratching the wall to sharpen the claws or hoping to get the owner's attention. The coat lay on the floor, arms outflung with missing buttons.

            "Peggy?", "Peggy!" she cried out.

Y/N screamed, awoke from a stupor. As if stung by a bee, Y/N ran up the stairs, ignoring the pain sweeping through her body. Healing wounds tore open. Gasping, Y/N took two steps at a time, tried three but failed, and pushed the door to Peggy's room open. A sickening sweet floral scent benumbed her mind. The room was pristine, free of the traces of a struggle. The bed was untouched. Not wasting a moment to close the door, she ran on, rushing into each of the rooms, but found nothing, not her parents, no soul nor an intruder.

A glimmer of hope sparked in her chest, heard the deep voice echoing through the house, soothing her heart and soul. She leaned forward, suddenly realising it was all her fault, that they were not interested in Peggy but in her, in the man on whom revenge had to be taken to gain money or weapons. Tears ran in rivulets. Slowly Y/N turned around, looked at the stairs, felt nothing, empty and devoid of emotions, and followed the hush voice.

Clouds swallowed the sun, and darkness cascaded across the wooden floor. The water, the rain smothered the spark, had hoped he was talking to Peggy, but Thomas held the receiver of the phone in his hand with the gun in the other and spoke harshly with the person on the other side. Her heart contracted. This can't be happening, Y/N breathed, cursing herself. Thomas did not hear his wife, the stairs moaning under her weight. Her eyes fell on the paper, crumpling under his firm grip.

            "Thomas?" Y/N whispered.

Abruptly, without saying farewell, Thomas ended the call and stuffed the lump of paper into the pocket. He took a blanket, lying on the floor and ran up the stairs and it was the moment she realised the blanket had slipped from her shoulders.

            "Thomas. What have you found?" she continued, suspecting the worst.

The smile healed her soul.

            "Don't worry. I have everything under control. Everything is fine. In a moment, Arthur and the others will arrive. Polly and Ada will take you home and tend to your wounds. You will take a warm bath and eat dinner. Ada baked a cake and before you know I will be with you," Thomas replied.

Lowering the blanket on her shoulders, he ran his palms over her upper arms, giving her warmth, and placed his lips on her forehead.

            "Peggy's not here. She's gone. Is that blood? What have you found?", "I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. Everything's fine." Thomas spoke like a mantra but the words failed to calm her, aroused fear.

            "It's my fault," Y/N uttered with widened eyes.

Hands gave her support, held her on her feet, clasped her, pressed her form to his chest and led Y/N down the stairs. Thomas suppressed the urge to curse like a sailor, sealed his lips shut, feeling the healing wounds as they tore open again, and continued to caress her back.

            "No, my dear, it's not your fault, you're not to blame.", "No, it should have been me. They wanted to kill me. They want to harm you. I'm the weakest link in the chain and they've got Peggy. They were watching the house; they didn't realise I was long gone and maybe they did, but before they could do anything, Alfie was there." Y/N cried out, swallowed half the words.

His loving eyes settled on hers and she paused.

            "It's not your fault. My love, please. You're not to blame for anything that happened. I'll find Peggy. I know where she is. She's alright.", "There's blood. Tommy. That's blood. Peggy is injured. That's her blood, Tommy." Y/N screamed into his shoulder.

Her fingers clawed at his coat. His hands cupped her face, forcing her tenderly and yet with strength to face him. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs. His warm breath touched her cheeks, but he could not banish the callousness, the blush akin to when a lover spoke words of affection. The hesitance was gone. Thomas embraced his wife, placed his hand on the back of her head, not allowing her to observe the chaos more closely, guessing what had happened, knowing it, feeling it in every fibre of his body, knew when Peggy had screamed that someone had attacked her, that someone had followed her to at least complete the order on some aspect.

            Wheels screeched. Curses broke the silence and woke the neighbours from a deep slumber. Confused, Y/N looked around, wanting to know what had happened, and Thomas breathed the answer into her hair. Arthur followed by the rest of the family, John and Polly stormed into the house like an armada with guns drawn, prepared to kill anyone daring to stand in the way, but they all came to a halt, shocked, not trusting their eyes, seeing Y/N in her husband's arms, had assumed it was her who was in danger.

            "I will not leave you alone," Y/N murmured.

Thomas chuckled.

            "You forgot who you married. Yes, you will, Ada and Polly will take you home, you will be safe there, Arthur and the others will accompany me." Thomas answered.

He stroked her tousled hair and whispered promises into her ear. The protests died in the ocean of affection, words sounding too wonderful, out of a romance, too good to be true.

            "Solomons will ring our bell, let him in. He will look after you and ensure your safety. Where is Polly?" Thomas addressed Ada.

She nodded fleetingly, drew nearer to the couple, ashamed she had never let Y/N know how much she liked her, knew as a woman she was the one who should have welcomed Y/N into the family with open arms. Ada slipped out of the coat and put it on her shoulders.

            "She is preparing a bath and necessary things," Ada answered.

Cautiously, fearing Y/N would flee, she placed her gloved hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Eyes fluttered open and Polly smiled and Y/N did not return it.

            "I can buy another one," Ada assured, motherly.

She brushed the loose strand behind Y/N´s ear, answered the unspoken question, drawing Y/N´s attention to herself and not to the debating and cursing men.

            "Don't worry, we will take care of you. Polly is cooking a soup, and the blankets are warming up by the fire. We will eat cake, and after the bath, you can go to sleep." she spoke in a soothing tone.

Thomas placed his wife in the care of the woman welcoming her with a gentle voice and outstretched arms. Ada did not give the woman a chance to reconsider. A veil of pure darkness settled on his striking features. Nostrils flared. Thomas cursed. His flexing hand slipped into his trouser pocket, retrieved the wrinkled paper, and handed it to Arthur. Eyes focused on the delicately curved initials, representing a name they all knew. Dry, bitter laughter mixed with bloody murder. Down the long road, the women went on, away from the gruesome scene and Y/N, too exhausted to fight, to raise her voice and speak her mind, let it happen, oblivious to the commotion in the house.

TagList:

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Hey! I just wanted to pop in and ask if you're okey! No pressure or anything just want to see if you're alright :))

Take care <33

Thank you so much, love. I hope you have a good day/ evening/ night.

I have been well, fortunatly and unfortuntaly, I got a new job and t kept me busy for the past months, to the point where I can't even read a book ;_;, and it's only getting harder since I am on my last year of University (I did get a document that approved of me not needing to study the whole week except for Saturdays).

I promise to work directly on the requests, and I mean I will be working now on them, since I have this afternoon free.

Thabk you again, dear.

Israel isnt a country, no.

Settler Colony ✅️

Hey beloved! Just checking in! I hope you're alright and that your exams went well!

Much love <3

Thank you lovely for checking in. I was just about to work on the requests, and unfortunately, things went hell after the professor found out that my classmates had stolen the exams. I don't how they did it! But we all got the blame! We are all suspended for a few days, and tomorrow we have another meeting (our parents will be present) with the director.

This is an apology for not writing in so long! Sorry!

Dark? Morpheus x f!reader

Sitting on his throne Morpheus give a small smile, to the calm heart that beat silently for him. It was a gift for him,from his and his sisters' creator.

He wished he could tell her, see her and feel her, unfortunately, he can't. She was a holy thing. Someone he shouldn't touch or love, and even if he wasn't forbidden from loving her, she saw him like a son, nothing more.

It broke his heart but as long as she took his side and looked at him with warm in her eyes, he was satisfied. Until he could no longer handle the pain of loving someone who doesn't return his feelings.

He tried to maybe get with someone else, to put those feelings at bay but...Oh how wrong was he.

Thing didn't go well which ended up with him sending the poor soul to hell, and that was also the last time he saw her, the woman his heart was burning and beating for. The only thing that was left from her was the sound of her heart in his ear.

It give him hope. Maybe she will come back, one day. Until then he was more than ready to wait for her.

It didn't start on October 7th

The Things We’ll Miss | John Price x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi!  I’m requesting the “If I give you half my cigarette, will you shut up?” prompt for Captain Price? Price lets the reader take a hit of one of his cigars. Thank you and I love reading your pieces!

summary: you and Price get a chance to sit down and be with one another while you wait to be shipped out 

tws: smoking, swearing

‘Theatre Of Blood’ was playing on the television as Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Perveen, Pahwa, Cohen and Bashar crowded around it while they struggled to sit comfortably on the harsh tiled flooring; blankets around their shoulders as bowls and plates of snack foods and cans of everything from San Miguel to Red Bull were dotted between them all. In three days, you were all expected to be shipped off to some territory far away, a mutual effort between task force one four one and the RAF was far from a common occurrence, but whenever it was needed, your squadron would always hunker down with them while at base, as not only did it boost morale and not only did it allow for the bond between the task force and the squadron to strengthen, but it also gave you an excuse to be with your boyfriend for a while. It had been going on for so long now that it felt less like a way to make things easier and less of a way to keep high command off of your backs, and more like a tradition; more like sitting around and staying with family for someone’s birthday party, more like spending time with brothers and cousins and nephews and uncles. You looked upon the lads with great fondness for a moment, up until Price beckoned you to sit with him. 

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I May not be the strongest. I May not be the most able. But I will shout, Palestine will be free.