so itâs hellholland/ciel here! i promised i wouldnât go inactive like 30 times and no one probably remembers me but,,, hereâs the deal: basically my wifi router has a device that enables the owners to see all the activity going on each device using the wifi and can then wifi on and off, which is why i had to stop using tumblr. my current living situation doesnât allow for me to be open about this account. i have written so much in my docs and on my notesâi have so much for you guys that i would love to share but cannot. so maybe itâll come out in bits and pieces when i get the chance on other devices, but for now it doesnât look good. i love you all and am so thankful for the time iâve had on tumblr and the responses iâve gotten to my work. i hope all of you keep writing and reading and doing everything that makes you feel goodâyou deserve it. all the best, and i hope to be back soon xx ciel
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
alexa, how do u start being a decent human being and write the fanfiction and headcanons youâve promised ur supporters and provide content instead of sitting on the requests and your own series for 7 months and disappear off the internet like the piece of shit u are. pls iâm begging h el p
iâm working on a new part of a queen and her king rn, but itâs definitely gonna take a while. i love you all dearly and i hope youâre doing okay. i donât know how writers follow writing schedules and stay active while in school and such
i appreciate those who do though. it takes a lot to create that motivation and try to keep a passion for what you write regardless of whatâs going on in your personal life.
Putting in your earphones so hopefully no random men try to talk to/harass you but not actually playing music so you can listen for footsteps/other suspicious noises behind you.
feeling like someone is following you and subtly shifting whatever object youâre holding into a better grip so you can use it as a bludgeon if the person behind you tries anything
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Can you tag me in everything you write? I love A Queen and her king! And everything else! Haha
thank you so much oh my god!! iâm grinning so hard lmfao youâre the first person to ask me that! thank you love, iâll tag you in all of it! â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
A Queen & Her King || T.H x Reader [Part 2]Â [Assassin/Gang!AU]
A/N: Reader discretion is advised for some parts of this series. I hope you guys enjoy this one because Iâm decently confident in it. Iâll gladly accept tips and shit when it comes to writing action because Iâm new to that aspect of writing. Also donât expect future chapters to always be this long please! It all depends on my schedule and motivation. Even more important though, this reader should be POC inclusive! (If I make mistakes, PLEASE let me know so I can edit them!)
The beginning is kind of a slow read but the pace gets a lot better as you move forward!
Word Count: 5.5k
Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, guns, brief mention of dead body
Two
Moments after pulling the blindfold and gag off of Eugeneâs lifeless body, you end up at the deck door, struggling to open it. âFelix, I got blood on my gloves and now I have to use my elbows to open the door so I donât leave any trail. Is this going to be a time issue?â
âNot too big of an issue. Just be fast.â You hear him laughing on the other end.
âDonât laugh,â you mutter, finally pushing the turning lock to where it needs to be. âWhy is it so fucking slippery?â
âMaybe pulling your sleeves over your hands and use those instead of your elbows would work?â He was laughing his ass off now. âI can see the headline: Astoria Black, one of the first female contract assassins with a record-setting kill count is caught and sentenced to death because she couldnât open a balcony door.â
âShut up,â you shake your head at the voice, smiling slightly. After the door swings open, you pick up the duffel bag with your weaponry and clothes and jog outside. âI really regret that name.â
âYour fake name?â
âYeah. Astoria Black? Sounds like some shit from Harry Potter. I was seventeen when I started leaving it at crime scenes, and by the time I wanted to change it, itâd already stuck with every person who knew I existed.â
âHow long have you been doing this? And you were doing it on your own, too?â Felix asks.
âI accidentally killed someone when I was sixteen, so you could count that but I usually donât.â You grin at how dumb that sounds out loud. âMy parents were deep into some gang and drug shit and Iâd grown up around that. Their âfriendsâ took care of me when they were away, and more often than not, their idea of fun was taking me to a shooting range. Basically Iâve known that lifestyle since I was a kid. After the âaccidentâ I was in a lot of trouble and had to create an entire new identity and defend myself.â The fire escape creaked loudly underneath your feet when you dropped down off the railing. âI started with petty theft, then as time went on people started asking me to do things for them. It became my main source of income. One guy knew my parents, he offered me a lot of money to kill someone. Thatâs where it started. I almost got caught a lot during those times. Then as I got better and more âpopularâ for lack of better words, elite underground people, powerful people started contacting me with requests, missions, other people they wanted me to meet and such. I was nineteen around then. So to sum it up, Iâve been doing this for five years because Iâm twenty-one now, and I started working with other people three-ish years ago.â
âWow.â Felix replies, trying to process all the information. âWhat was the accident?âÂ
âI-I donât really want to talk about that. Iâm sorry âI went off on a tangent though. We should get back to the task at hand.â You switch subjects, becoming slightly anxious upon thinking about the incident.
âOh, itâs fine. And yeah. Thereâs some sunglasses in your coat pocket you should put on just in case someone sees you.â
From what you know, Felix was a bit older than you and was a lot more experienced in high-risk assassinations than you were. He still had this playful innocence in the way he spoke during missions, as if he wasnât helping you kill someone. Youâd been surprised at this, because most directors donât enjoy bantering or anything similar to that.
âItâs dark outside though?â
âPlease do it. If anyone notices you theyâll just think youâre high. I have to go soon.â
âWhat are you doing?â You ask, finally reaching the bottom of the fire escape and digging through the pockets of the oversize jean jacket. You came up with big, rounded white sunglasses. âInteresting choice.â
âI have a date,â he responds, you can basically hear him smiling through the earpiece. âIt was the best style I could do with all that needed to fit. Just put them on and youâll be good from there. I have one question for you though.â
âShoot for it.â You take a few turns down allies, trying to get to your driver faster.Â
âDo you have to act all the time for your own sake? You donât really have an identity thatâs really you. And back there with Pence, that was all a show. Unless thatâs really you?â
You sigh as you think about the question. âI donât have anyone Iâve ever genuinely been myself around for years since my parents. You and I have had some pretty genuine conversations, but I donât trust anyone. I am not me when Iâm on the job. And yes, and lot of that is show. I donât act like some bravado sexy cat-girl all the time, but itâs a good tactic to either seduce or intimidate people. Thatâs more Astoriaâs personality, not (Y/N), which, by the way, youâre the only person at the moment who knows my real name and I donât know how you know? Anyway, there is a fucked up piece of me that enjoys acting like Iâm Harley Quinn or some shit when Iâm on a contract. Itâs a really weird, grossly satisfying feeling. But itâs not all me. Itâs just a part of my brain that makes me act like a gremlin when Iâm concentrated and ready toâready to kill. I donât know if that makes sense.â
âNo, no, I got it. Thatâs all valid. All my other partners just say itâs like an acting job. They never go in depth like that. So thanks, I guess.â
âNo problem. Good luck on your date? The money will be in your account by Tuesday as far as I know.â
âThank you. Have fun with the glasses.â A click and a ringing noise sound in your head as you scramble to pull out the earpiece and throw it in the bag. You put the sunglasses on and they immediately begin whirring. Blue lettering pops up in the lower right corner of your vision.
New technology to get me to the car. It just flashes one word. âLeft.â You follow the instructions without hesitation, ending up on an empty downtown street, the only sounds being the buzz of streetlights and dogs barking in the distance.
Your emotions were nearly turned off because of exhaustion. The air seemed to be tinged with green, and the normally bustling and lively street felt grimy and cold. Your breath hitched when the sunglasses flashed âStop, turn around. Pretend you dropped something.â Â You quickly hunch downward and pat your hands around on the ground frantically. A car speeds by behind you, then after a second the sunglasses flash again. âContinue forward.â
Felix mustâve programmed them to track federal government or potential threat vehicles. âRight.â The glasses beep vibrantly. You squint at your surroundings, realizing theyâve darkened significantly because youâve gone into another back alley. The glasses somehow didnât affect your sight before, but now they felt like they were overheating.
Minutes into the walk, you freeze in concern, adrenaline already starting to course through you. Thereâs someone ahead of you, the faintest sound of breathing and footsteps mixing together into a warning noise in your mind. You turn around despite the sunglasses protesting and trying to correct you, but a tall figure blocks your path. âOh shit,â you mutter.
The figure lunges to grab you, but you already sidestepped and ran the other direction. The noise you heard before has become another person, trapping you in the alley. âI had plans tonight guys, youâre ruining them!â You whine in a high pitched voice, trying to throw them off with your bratty persona.
They seem unfazed, and upon closer inspection you notice theyâre both wearing suits with masks. Theyâre not average criminals. Theyâre apart of something.
One of them runs at you, and you brace for the contact as he takes you down, your bag and sunglasses being thrown to the side. You throw your weight and the attacker lands on his back, keeping you intact. His arms close around your neck, and you keep one hand inside and the other pulling at his arms so you can breathe. It stings like a bitch, but youâd felt it before.
ah! i had no idea! definitely take your time âşď¸ big thank you for the fic rec (itâs super refreshing) and even taking on my request! i totally forgot to add a tidbit about the reader being born female, if that comes up at all! much love â¤ď¸đŤ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
A Queen & Her King || T.H x Reader [Part 2]Â [Assassin/Gang!AU]
A/N: Reader discretion is advised for some parts of this series. I hope you guys enjoy this one because Iâm decently confident in it. Iâll gladly accept tips and shit when it comes to writing action because Iâm new to that aspect of writing. Also donât expect future chapters to always be this long please! It all depends on my schedule and motivation. Even more important though, this reader should be POC inclusive! (If I make mistakes, PLEASE let me know so I can edit them!)
The beginning is kind of a slow read but the pace gets a lot better as you move forward!
Word Count: 5.5k
Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, guns, brief mention of dead body
Two
Moments after pulling the blindfold and gag off of Eugeneâs lifeless body, you end up at the deck door, struggling to open it. âFelix, I got blood on my gloves and now I have to use my elbows to open the door so I donât leave any trail. Is this going to be a time issue?â
âNot too big of an issue. Just be fast.â You hear him laughing on the other end.
âDonât laugh,â you mutter, finally pushing the turning lock to where it needs to be. âWhy is it so fucking slippery?â
âMaybe pulling your sleeves over your hands and use those instead of your elbows would work?â He was laughing his ass off now. âI can see the headline: Astoria Black, one of the first female contract assassins with a record-setting kill count is caught and sentenced to death because she couldnât open a balcony door.â
âShut up,â you shake your head at the voice, smiling slightly. After the door swings open, you pick up the duffel bag with your weaponry and clothes and jog outside. âI really regret that name.â
âYour fake name?â
âYeah. Astoria Black? Sounds like some shit from Harry Potter. I was seventeen when I started leaving it at crime scenes, and by the time I wanted to change it, itâd already stuck with every person who knew I existed.â
âHow long have you been doing this? And you were doing it on your own, too?â Felix asks.
âI accidentally killed someone when I was sixteen, so you could count that but I usually donât.â You grin at how dumb that sounds out loud. âMy parents were deep into some gang and drug shit and Iâd grown up around that. Their âfriendsâ took care of me when they were away, and more often than not, their idea of fun was taking me to a shooting range. Basically Iâve known that lifestyle since I was a kid. After the âaccidentâ I was in a lot of trouble and had to create an entire new identity and defend myself.â The fire escape creaked loudly underneath your feet when you dropped down off the railing. âI started with petty theft, then as time went on people started asking me to do things for them. It became my main source of income. One guy knew my parents, he offered me a lot of money to kill someone. Thatâs where it started. I almost got caught a lot during those times. Then as I got better and more âpopularâ for lack of better words, elite underground people, powerful people started contacting me with requests, missions, other people they wanted me to meet and such. I was nineteen around then. So to sum it up, Iâve been doing this for five years because Iâm twenty-one now, and I started working with other people three-ish years ago.â
âWow.â Felix replies, trying to process all the information. âWhat was the accident?âÂ
âI-I donât really want to talk about that. Iâm sorry --I went off on a tangent though. We should get back to the task at hand.â You switch subjects, becoming slightly anxious upon thinking about the incident.
âOh, itâs fine. And yeah. Thereâs some sunglasses in your coat pocket you should put on just in case someone sees you.â
From what you know, Felix was a bit older than you and was a lot more experienced in high-risk assassinations than you were. He still had this playful innocence in the way he spoke during missions, as if he wasnât helping you kill someone. Youâd been surprised at this, because most directors donât enjoy bantering or anything similar to that.
âItâs dark outside though?â
âPlease do it. If anyone notices you theyâll just think youâre high. I have to go soon.â
âWhat are you doing?â You ask, finally reaching the bottom of the fire escape and digging through the pockets of the oversize jean jacket. You came up with big, rounded white sunglasses. âInteresting choice.â
âI have a date,â he responds, you can basically hear him smiling through the earpiece. âIt was the best style I could do with all that needed to fit. Just put them on and youâll be good from there. I have one question for you though.â
âShoot for it.â You take a few turns down allies, trying to get to your driver faster.Â
âDo you have to act all the time for your own sake? You donât really have an identity thatâs really you. And back there with Pence, that was all a show. Unless thatâs really you?â
You sigh as you think about the question. âI donât have anyone Iâve ever genuinely been myself around for years since my parents. You and I have had some pretty genuine conversations, but I donât trust anyone. I am not me when Iâm on the job. And yes, and lot of that is show. I donât act like some bravado sexy cat-girl all the time, but itâs a good tactic to either seduce or intimidate people. Thatâs more Astoriaâs personality, not (Y/N), which, by the way, youâre the only person at the moment who knows my real name and I donât know how you know? Anyway, there is a fucked up piece of me that enjoys acting like Iâm Harley Quinn or some shit when Iâm on a contract. Itâs a really weird, grossly satisfying feeling. But itâs not all me. Itâs just a part of my brain that makes me act like a gremlin when Iâm concentrated and ready toâready to kill. I donât know if that makes sense.â
âNo, no, I got it. Thatâs all valid. All my other partners just say itâs like an acting job. They never go in depth like that. So thanks, I guess.â
âNo problem. Good luck on your date? The money will be in your account by Tuesday as far as I know.â
âThank you. Have fun with the glasses.â A click and a ringing noise sound in your head as you scramble to pull out the earpiece and throw it in the bag. You put the sunglasses on and they immediately begin whirring. Blue lettering pops up in the lower right corner of your vision.
New technology to get me to the car. It just flashes one word. âLeft.â You follow the instructions without hesitation, ending up on an empty downtown street, the only sounds being the buzz of streetlights and dogs barking in the distance.
Your emotions were nearly turned off because of exhaustion. The air seemed to be tinged with green, and the normally bustling and lively street felt grimy and cold. Your breath hitched when the sunglasses flashed âStop, turn around. Pretend you dropped something.â Â You quickly hunch downward and pat your hands around on the ground frantically. A car speeds by behind you, then after a second the sunglasses flash again. âContinue forward.â
Felix mustâve programmed them to track federal government or potential threat vehicles. âRight.â The glasses beep vibrantly. You squint at your surroundings, realizing theyâve darkened significantly because youâve gone into another back alley. The glasses somehow didnât affect your sight before, but now they felt like they were overheating.
Minutes into the walk, you freeze in concern, adrenaline already starting to course through you. Thereâs someone ahead of you, the faintest sound of breathing and footsteps mixing together into a warning noise in your mind. You turn around despite the sunglasses protesting and trying to correct you, but a tall figure blocks your path. âOh shit,â you mutter.
The figure lunges to grab you, but you already sidestepped and ran the other direction. The noise you heard before has become another person, trapping you in the alley. âI had plans tonight guys, youâre ruining them!â You whine in a high pitched voice, trying to throw them off with your bratty persona.
They seem unfazed, and upon closer inspection you notice theyâre both wearing suits with masks. Theyâre not average criminals. Theyâre apart of something.
One of them runs at you, and you brace for the contact as he takes you down, your bag and sunglasses being thrown to the side. You throw your weight and the attacker lands on his back, keeping you intact. His arms close around your neck, and you keep one hand inside and the other pulling at his arms so you can breathe. It stings like a bitch, but youâd felt it before.
You know how to stay alive.
The tall man runs over, reaching down to grab you. You launch your legs into his throat, knocking him backward, then you roll into your stomach. Briefly, all his weight is pinching your neck but he struggles to keep his grip as he teeters forward on top of you, instinctively pulling his hands off your neck to keep from face planting. You throw your head up at his jaw and roll out, crawling to the bag.
He grabs your ankle, your face falling and smashing into the pavement. âShit,â you say loudly, blinking back the pain. You yank your opposite knee up, then push your heel back down, kicking the man in the head to free yourself.
The other one was muttering something to what looked like himself, but what you realized was an earpiece. This was a bigger operation. His sunglasses and mask had fallen off to reveal piercing blue eyes, curly brown hair and a clean shaven face. He looked too baby-faced and pretty to be involved is some form of a mafia.
He stalks toward you again, moving to hit but you swiftly duck, popping back up to land two punches in the face and one in the chest. He stumbles, so you grab him and turn his body, then use your leg to kick him into the wall. You pick up the bag and find the pistol quickly, turning around to see the previously grounded one with a knife, rocketing towards you.
Almost without thinking, you pull the trigger and hit him in the abdomen with a bullet, knocking him over. You rush over to his side, realizing the blue-eyed one had disappeared. âWho the fuck are you, who sent you?â His breathing was still fast, but he just started instead of responding. You grabbed his jaw, pulling it towards you. âIâll kill you. Tell me who.â
âYouâll know.â He wheezes, then starts hacking violently. Blood spurts out of his mouth, spattering onto you and his fresh suit. âHeâs not gonna be too happy.â
âTell. Me.â You hiss in anger, stopping his left hand from weak efforts to stab you again. You rip the knife  out of his hand, pulling back his sleeve to begin writing. 336. He winces and his eyes start to glisten, but his body is so shocked that it doesnât seem to affect him enough.
âI wonât.â You toss the knife back into your duffel, then stand above him, pointing the gun at his forehead.
âIâll give you one chance.â
âFuck you,â he spits, somehow sporting a cocky grin while heâs dying. You fire one shot at his leg, wanting to cause him pain before you put him out of his misery. The silencer kept the gunshot quiet, but the leftover noise tugs you out of your focus.
Thereâs sirens in the distance, going in the direction of the hotel. He cries out in pain, but still just shakes his head. You click and fire again, this time it being fatal.
Now you run. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Hiding by an old rent-a-storage lot wasnât your favorite pastime.
You bounce your leg up and down anxiously as you wait for your ride. Itâd been over three hours since the hotel, and two since the alley. The sirens died down and youâre a significant way from the city. Youâre safe, for the most part.
Soon enough, a black sedan pulls up to the back fence of the lot, flashing the brights in your direction. You hop up with the bag, climb the fence and settle into the passenger seat silently.
A few beats pass before anyone speaks. âYouâre shorter in person,â Felix comments plainly. You brush it off, resisting the urges to laugh and shoot back at him.
âThanks for picking me up,â you say, turning slightly to face him. Heâs different in person.
He has warm-toned mahogany skin thatâs tinted gold with the reflection of the headlights. Playful brown eyes glance at yours while you scan him up and down. Heâs wearing an all black ball-cap so you canât see his hair, and the rest of his outfit coordinated as well. âNo problem. Where am I taking you, though?â
âMy house. Turn right out of here.â You reply monotonously.
âIs it weird that I thought you lived underground in an abandoned subway car or something? Causeâ honestly thatâd be fucking dope.â
âWhere do you live?â You raise an eyebrow.
âIn an apartment. In the city.â
âIâm just like you. Just a little more secluded so Iâm not as traceable. Iâm not a cheap drug dealer,â you laugh.
âFair point,â he admits, shifting the car into reverse and backing into the quiet road. âWhat happened?â In silent response, you just turn to face him completely. He glances once or twice before processing. âOh, shit.â
From what you could tell, you had a bloody nose, a fairly deep tissue cut above your lip, and a scraped-up face. You definitely felt soreness around your neck and some bruised ribs. âNot the worst Iâve been through.â
âWhatâs the worst then?â
âI got shot once. It was at an angle thankfully, it only lodged in the tissue of my outer thigh. I had surgery, recovery and then physical therapy. Good as new.â
âWho shot you?â
âNot really sure. I was in Chicago and got caught up in a gang-related scene after I was hired to hit one of their members. I was eighteen at the time.â
âSorry.â He seems slightly uncomfortable hearing you talk about it so nonchalantly and shifts in his seat for a few seconds in the silence.
âDid I interfere with your date?â You ask, remembering that he has personal life too.
âNo, it actually uh, ended pretty early on. She had a family emergency. She said she wanted to try again though, so I guess thatâs good.â
âSorry, too. Turn left here, if you take this road till the next exit weâll be there in fifteen-ish minutes.â
ââKay. Just for extra measure in case these guys come around again, would you mind filling me in on the details of how you got your ass beat?â
âWell, I ended up beating them, or at least one. I was taking some alley shortcuts, but I heard someone ahead so I stopped, turn the other way and there was a guy there. So I walked in the other direction again and same thing. They were in suits with masks. But like, nice-ass fitted suits. One of them had an earpiece, curly hair and blue eyes. He got away. I killed the other because he was gonna stab me and  wouldnât give me information.â
More silence. Nauseous  silence. He wasnât used to the real-life parts. Heâd just lived it through audio and occasional security footage that typically wasnât anything gruesome.Seeing you hurt face-to-face was different than being able to mute out your usual antics.
You watch the headlights of the car remain steady on the road, flinching by reflex when another one passes by. They were apart of a group that wanted something from you, but you werenât sure what. You went through a mental checklist of anyone youâve had issues with, but it made zero sense for it to be any of them. It wouldnât have been anyone in your legue, like Antoni or Lactski. Youâd never even made contact with their underlings.
Anxiety pools in the bottom of your stomach at the thought of not knowing who they were. Itâs not normal to have no idea whoâs hurting you and why. You stare down and pull at the fabric of your pants, finally gripping one thread and spinning it around your finger. âTake this exit,â you say quietly, surprised out how meek you sounded. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Felix suck in his breath nervously. Because obviously, if the assassin was nervous, he should be too. âYou have alibis for us right?â
âAlways.â He nods pointedly, flipping on his blinker and drifting off the highway.
Clueless.
Thatâs how you feel.
Clueless, powerless, and worried.
Weak. You donât like feeling weak.. You donât like being weak.
Thereâs  a piece missing. A piece of the puzzle that didnât seem to even match the box it came in. It gnaws at the back of your brain like itâs clawing around searching for any ideas or something solid to hold onto.
The driverâs fingers are drumming on the wheel, your bouncing foot following his beat. He reaches for the radio, pushing down on the volume button. Immediate noise rings and bounces around in your head, including voices you can vaguely make words with in your hazy state.
âThat was Harry Styles, a former member of Britainâs One Direction, with Sign of The Times. Cardi B, Sonder, and Imagine Dragons are up next. Stay tuned into Catch 103.3 FM to-â
âShit.â You mutter, everything clicking together. Your body begins to panic, but your brain wonât catch up.
Britain. British. They had accents. Both of the men. You were too caught up in staying alive to process the blue-eyed man speaking. âSheâs good.â What the hell did that mean?Â
Your hands shake and you subconciously  start picking at your nailbeds to occupy them.
âWhat?â Felix asks, shutting off the radio, turning his head back and forth between you and the road.
âFelix, they were English. They werenât from America. What do they want with me?â
His hands clench the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, but the rest of his body appears calm. The American underground crime system was hard to get into as a foreigner, let alone getting the location and fake  identity of someone like you,  significantly far up at the top.
As far as you know, people outside North America donât really know of your existence, let alone criminals from across the ocean.
âHey, hey, weâre getting to your place soon so I need you to give me the directions before we figure this out, okay?â He reminds you gently, somehow knowing you might sprial into a panic attack if he didnât distract you.
â44954, thatâs-thatâs the address,â you reply, breaths becoming shallow and labored. âTurn left here.â
âWeâll figure it out.â He says sternly, accelerating a bit faster than you expect.
âHopefully.â It remains quiet for the rest of the drive, minus the steady hum of the car.
Eventually, you flex your fingers outward, ignoring the bleeding around your nails and begin breathing regularly again. Your chest hurts, still blanketed with anxiety, but youâre physically not itching to jump out of the car anymore.You shut yours eyes when your house comes into view, waiting till the car turns.
âExpecting visitors?â Felix asks, shifting the vehicle into park and looking over at you.
âYouâve got to be fucking kidding me.â You open your eyes, quickly pulling the pistol out of your bag. Thereâs a single light on in the office, one that you didnât leave on. Thereâs also a Mercedes parked at an angle toward the top of the driveway. âIâll call you when Iâm done.â You say, already pulling the door open.
âYou sure you donât want me to wait, or at least come in?â
Heâs got concern painted all over his face, reasonably, but now you had an internal power struggle. You wanted to restore some dignity after almost crying in front of him. âYeah. And burn the bag too, please.â You nod, stone-faced.
âIâll talk to you soon, I guess.â
âThanks.â You shut the door and begin your adventure into your own home, only shaking slightly now. You hear the car drive off into the distance as you click the front entrance shut behind you. The pistol in front of you is raised in caution and you quietly pace to the office.
The glass french doors let you have a full view inside, revealing a woman with stark white hair, red lips and a form-fitting body suit.
Fuck me.
You set the pistol down hesitantly on a nearby table and text your ride.
âHey, false alarm. Iâll call you and fill you in later. Donât worry if it takes while though.â
You push into the room, arms already crossed in a defensive stance. âWhat the hell are you doing in my house, Sylvia?â
âTook you long enough, Miss Black.â She sighs, tapping her fingers on the glass surface of your desk. âHave a seat.â
You grit your teeth with annoyance. âWith all due respect, Miss Allison, this is my home that youâve intruded in. If anyoneâs having a seat itâll be you.â
The woman stares at you scornfully, but after a lingering minute you switch sides of the desk and she sits down. Her eyes are menacing, but to anyone who didnât know her sheâd simply be a business woman scouring for money. If you were getting into technicalities, that is what sheâd be, but she had a method more different than the average business woman.
âWhat do you need?â You ask, frustration still seeping through your tone.
Sylvia Allison, somewhat of a realtor for crime. She finds contracts for killers and killers for contracts, among other things. A communicator for the unspoken ranks in the underground, a communicator for the entire underground itself. Sheâd been in the business longer than most of the people who were in power now, and for 60 she sure as hell didnât look bad. Of course, plastic surgery mightâve helped. She had a menacingly white smile, mischevious lips and she always wore pumps with her suits.
âI have a request-rather an order-from a special client of mine. Actually, I might be his client.â She admits, pinching her mouth together.
âYou nearly got me killed on the last the operation I did for you, and the one before that you set me up. Why should I do shit for you?â
âSo vulgar.â She grimaces, pausing. âIf you must know darling, itâs because weâll both be dead if you donât comply.â She crosses her legs, trying to gauge your reaction with another piercing gaze.
âWhat do you mean?â You inquire, pinching your eyebrows together. What was going on? Were these incidents connected?
âMy higher-up is a very powerful man. Respected and feared.â
âWhatâs in this for me?â You cross your arms, pacing two steps behind your desk.
âLike I said, your life. As well as money and power.â You notice her eye contact falter, and her fists are balling up and then releasing repeatedly.
âWho is he?â
Sylvia runs a manicured hand through her loosely curled hair, watching you intently. âYouâll meet him if you donât try and walk away from this. Iâve been asked to keep identities out of the loop for now.â
Would you really be killed if you didnât want to do this?
Were you willing to take the risk?
You slide your fingertips over the desk, watching the reflections of the lights thoughtfully.
âWhatâs my  mission?â
Two days later, youâre  on a private jet, courtesy of your employer, to meet him in Southwest London. Most of the information on what you were going to carry out was still unknown. If you were to be intercepted by any government forces, nothing could be traced back to him because you donât know anything. They canât force information out of you. Thatâs this mystery manâs prerogative; secrecy. Everyone owes it to him, according to Sylvia.
Itâs a bit of an anxiety-inducing situation.
You bit back a smile when you look out the window, and instead sighed contently upon seeing the hues of the land beneath you, the shapes and outlines of the roads creating an illustrious quilt of art. You choose to sit at a sleek wooden table with trim on the right side of the cabin, allowing you to look over the paperwork from previous contracts and finalize the payments.
You shrug off your black leather jacket and drape it over the back of your recliner so you can  stretch your arms freely. You wore an outfit a little less than functional for fighting, but perfect for a meeting, including black high waisted jeans, paired with chunky heeled velvet booties. Your top, a little more risque than you wouldâve preferred, (you were ushered out the door at 5am) is a lacy v-neck bodysuit with thin straps, the detailing on the shirt lining different parts of your body perfectly.
Red lighting lights up the space, soft sultry music playing to create a calming yet alert, enviroment. The sunrise faintly follows through the planeâs tinted windows, filtering a golden glow on everything it touched.
Rather than spending your time gazing outside, you pull your eyes away and start to scan the documents in front of you, signing this and that. Your phone starts to ring, the name on the screen belonging to someone you worked a heist with a few weeks back. You pick up and put it on speaker, tapping the pen in your hand on the table while trying to multi-task.
âHello, Astoria.â An emotionless but intimidating voice comes across the other line. Itâs almost like he meant to say more, but never did.
âWhat do you need, G?â You ask, already confused as to why he called.
âDid you ever get paid by Annalise? She said itâd take less than three days. Itâs been two weeks. She wonât respond to any of my attempts to contact her.â
âIâm not sure.â You squint, now shifting your attention to the phone call.
âI discussed this with Latscki, who did some contracts for her a year back. She called hits on him afterward to avoid payment.â
You stand up quickly, beginning to pace back and forth in the aisle. âHow did this not come up when we got hired?â
âShe knows how to cover shit up. Either way, I thought Iâd mention that I almost got attacked last night in a bar. Pathetic attempt, but Iâm guessing it was her. Anything like that happened to you?â Your hand flew to your face, which now was left with a black eye and a small healing scar above your lip. There was scabbing on your right cheekbone as well. Anger bubbled inside your chest just thinking about it.
âJust last night. Two guys in an alley. But one of them talked about a âheâ before I shot him and they had accents so it wouldnt make sense to be Ann-â
The door to the cockpit opened suddenly, and a tall man walked out, already speaking. â-Annalise Hoffman. Sheâs a lying bitch and has really bad judgement when it comes to hitmen. It wasnât her that night.â
You stared ahead, almost shocked, but not enough to freeze. âIâll call you back G.â
âThis has to be fixed before next week Astor-â
âGot it.â You ended the call, slipping the phone into your back pocket while watching the man with a vicious heat in your eyes.
It was him.
Blue eyes, curly hair, English accent. âHarrison Osterfield. Iâm here t-â Before he could come close to finishing, Â you kicked him in the gut and had him with his stomach to the ground, his arm pinned in a way where you could break it in one swift movement.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â
âIâm surprised you didnât figure it out earlier,â he quips in a strained voice, clearly in pain.
âDid you do some shit to the pilot or something?â
âGod no, will you let go?â
âWhy should I?â You hiss, digging your heel into his back.
âIâm-with-your new boss,â he wheezes out, eventually worming out of your grasp and shoving you off him. This results in an scarily fast exchange of swings and careful maneuvers until you have a small knife from your back pocket at his throat, the other hand pulling back on his hair.
âTalk.â
âPut the knife down, love.â
âI donât take orders from you.â You have the point underneath his adamâs apple, which is bobs dangerously close to the tip of the blade.
âI will explain everything you want to know if you let go of me. Iâm not allowed to hurt you anymore anyway.â After a few minutes of contemplating, you drop him and step backward, still gripping your weapon just in case. He runs his hands through his hair and straightens his clothes out, then takes a seat opposite you at the table. He glances over your scattered papers curiously, then looks back up you. You donât want to sit, but do it anyway. Nothingâs gonna get fixed unless you act civil. Heâs quiet, but observing your face intensley. âGot you pretty good, huh?â He smirks, waving a hand towards the various wounds on your face.
âI got your friend better.â You shoot back, completely straight-faced and your voice dripping with venom.
His smirk drops, giving you the reaction you want. He looks you in the eye seemingly unfazed, but underneath that facade, you can read how fascinated he is. Maybe thereâs fear in there, too.
âHe was new. Very expendable.â
âHe was so willing to die for your man, though. Had the guts to spit on me in his last moments.â Harrison stifles a laugh at that, then lets you continue. âHope you guys recovered his body. Then youâll get see what I do to someone like him. I only had five minutes that time around,â you sigh, feigning disappointment.
His eyebrows shoot up briefly, then he recollects himself. âIâm your new employerâs right-hand. And because of what you did to my co-worker, T isnât letting me have any authority from you unless itâs orders approved by him. He appreciates your âruthlessness.ââ
âT, hm?â You ask, still wanting to decipher what was going on.
âYouâll know his name when he wants you to.â
âOkay, if youâre gonna be so edgy and mysterious about him, care to tell me why the hell I got attacked by you guys before I was hired?â
âItâs a method of testing. Seeing if youâre worth it or not to hire.â He replies, leaning back and spinning a golden ring around on his pointer finger.
âSo if your potentional employee isnât good enough,â you pause, looking him in the eye. âThey die without even knowing why?â
âSome of the time.â Harrison nods.
âThat is so fucked,â you uncomfortably grin, gathering up the papers in front of you and sliding them back into your briefcase. âSo they donât even get a choice in working for him. Once he notices him them theyâre dead or forced into the job?â
âIf you want to put it that way-â
âNo. Itâs not a âtechnicallyâ thing. Itâs fucking psycho, and thatâs coming from someone whoâs probably also batshit crazy. I donât want to be near you or your fuckbuddy after you tried to murder me.â
âDonât you kill people for a living?â The man replies, frowning at your namecalling.
âI kill people who deserve it. And before they die, I make sure to tell them why and what they did. I donât kill for people with personal grudges or that dumb shit, I kill pedophiles, rapists, politicians, people who pose threat to innocent-â
âChaotic paid vigilante. So youâre kinda like Deadpool?â He interrupts your rant with an unexpected laugh. While itâs partially mocking, he also sounds like heâs asking a real question. Â
You stare ahead blankly. âOh, exactly.â Sarcasm soaks your tone. âI even have superhuman regenerating powers.â
The man whoâd almost killed you two nights ago, now sat ahead of you grinning and making attempts at banter. Itâs odd in a way, but somewhat relieving. Anxiety is still working through you, just not pulsing as frequently. Â Though this is a business trip, itâs nice to be able to talk comfortably about your business without the fear of judgement. Heâs accepting, but expresses his opinions honestly. You want to hold onto your anger, but itâs hard with how insanely laid back he is. Like heâs on the verge of being apologetic, but wonât let you receive the actual message.
Youâre spinning the knife in one hand, winding your fingers around it smoothly to avoid hitting yourself. He seems intrigued by your attitude, menacing but with a humour. You sigh deeply, waiting for him to respond as he observes you for what feels like ten minutes. Never once does the suited man break eye contact in that time. Itâs almost as if he tries to use his eyes as a weapon, to get you to break or talk or open up, but it doesnât work. The hazy blue laced with green that trails to your (Y/E/C) cannot reach you. Absolutely nothing can reach you unless you let it.
Harrison leans forward, almost  letting onto a crude smile.
if youâre a Youth and youâre reading this i just wanna discourage you from likeâŚ.imitating the culture on this site too completely and building your whole worldview through the lens youâre finding here. just. be cautious be careful be critical
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Full offense but your writing style is for you and nobody else. Use the words you want to use; play with language, experiment, use said, use adverbs, use âunrealisticâ writing patterns, slap words you donât even know are words on the page. Language is a sandbox and you, as the author, are at liberty to shape it however you wish. Build castles. Build a hovel. Build a mountain on a mountain or make a tiny cottage on a hill. Whatever it is you want to do. Write.
i hope it isnât a stretch of me to ask this, but what about a head canon of tom holland dating an actor thatâs genderfluid? (thereâs not much representation, but i feel like heâd be so cute and sweet about it !) đŤ
hiya darling! so my phone glitches/crashed and deleted my hcâs among other things i was doing on tumblr and other apps so this might take longer than expected to get finished. - besides that, i also would love to do this! iâm a cishet girl so i am not too well versed in genderfluidity, however iâm currently researching and getting perspective so i can write this hc accurately!apologies ahead of time if i mess up. please correct and educate me if i do, i would love to be enlightened. this is not a stretch! diversity is so incredibly important everywhere and it should not be compromised even in things like fanfiction. iâll be getting this to you soon! đđ
EDIT: i forgot to mention this ( https://peter-is-the-best-avenger.tumblr.com/post/176432081981/power-of-the-press-part-1-tom-holland-x-reader ) is a completely gender neutral (not the same as fluid, but better than having to dig through the endless fem!reader ones, including my own lol) fanfic and i love what iâve read of it so far! i hope you can enjoy that in the meantime!