#howl's whole deal so far just makes me laugh

[weaverofink]

Howl Pendragon, Wizard Extraordinaire VS Howell Jenkins, Loser from Wales

[chunkypossum]

Mother Save Us From Your Twisted fate

From ACOSF: 

Eris glowered. “Has this been the plan the whole time? To string me along, make me an enemy of my father, then use the Trove against all of us?”

“You made yourself an enemy of your father,” Cassian said, smiling faintly. “When he finds out, I wonder if he’ll let your hounds rip you to shreds, or if he’ll do it himself.”

Eris paled slightly. “Don’t you mean if he finds out?” Cassian said nothing. Kept his face neutral.

Nesta stifled her smugness and did the same. Eris observed them.

... For the first time since Nesta had known the male, uncertainty banked the fire in his gaze.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ A little snippet under the cut

Read Complete on AO3 and MIND THE TAGS

Azriel found Eris on the side of the mountain… again. Though he hadn’t been allied with the Night Court for long, Azriel learned pretty quickly that he had a few favorite places to go when he wanted to be alone. This was one of them. After he missed his last meeting with Keir, Rhys had sent Azriel down to the Hewn City to see if Eris was somewhere within the mountain, knowing as well as Azriel did by now that Eris was known to hide out in the forgotten spaces of this cursed place. He knew he should just leave him there, let Rhys know and go about his other duties so he could leave the Hewn City as soon as possible but something rooted him to the spot. The shadows swam around him pestering to join the lordling in the blistering wind outside.  Shadows wrapped around his wrist and pulled him towards the small opening that would lead him to the ledge outside. He really didn't want to go but let them lead him away anyway.  The sight was more pitiful than he thought it would be. Eris was curled in on himself, holding tightly to his knees tucked up against his chest with his face buried into them. His wild red hair whipped around him in the wind, completely broken out of the neat braids they had been in.  It had been a while since Azriel had to talk with him. Rhys had pressured Cassian to take on the responsibility of dealing with Eris in recent weeks. Even though Azriel knew he was the one who requested it, seeing Eris now, a slight tinge of regret washed through him at that.  Without saying a word, Azriel walked over to him, footsteps drowned out by the howling wind and came to sit beside Eris. Far enough away that they didn't touch but close enough that he could if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.  Putting up a shield of magic from his siphons in a sphere around them, Azriel looked down at the male who had yet to acknowledge him and smiled as he noticed the way the shadows played in the tangles of his hair. Pests. “What are you doing out here?” He asked  Eris mumbled something without lifting his head that sounded something like ‘None of your business.’ prompting a chuckle from Azriel. Their relationship had gotten more confusing over the past few months and it was hard for Azriel to know where the line was now that they weren’t strictly enemies. The Mor situation would hang over all of their interactions until the truth was out but ever since Azriel got himself caught spying in the forests of Autumn, things had gotten infinitely more complicated. “Brat.” Azriel said through a laugh. He didn’t press further and sat there in silence while Eris stewed and Azriel watched. It wasn’t uncomfortable and somehow Azriel knew Eris would tell him when he was ready.  After a while, He raised his head and spoke. “Cassian threatened to tell my father about our little … arrangement.”

The songs I wrote this to Annnnd the Azris Tag List: @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @@fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @talibunny30

[strideofpride]

Okay I can't stop thinking about the Barbie ending. Cause like as absolutely hilarious it was (the whole theater howled) it also is the perfect button for the theme of the movie, coming out of girlhood into womanhood. (this is going to be a very cis reading because, well, Greta is cis and was clearly drawing on her own cis experiences - terfs do not interact)

The first thing Barbie experiences in the real world is being catcalled and objectified, which reminds me a lot of a passage from Tina Fey's book. She talks about how she went to this women's conference when she was working on Mean Girls and they were asked how they knew they were becoming a woman. And pretty much every single one said it was when some dude said something gross to them out of a passing car. It's such a universal experience to get catcalled at 13-14-15 year's old, when your body is only just developing. And that's what Barbie also experiences first.

Then there's the scene where the Mattel men (and they're all men of course) try to put her back in the box. The shot of her hands being strapped down was so unsettling to me and I think that was Greta's intention. Maybe this is a huge reach but it almost felt like it was a metaphor for sexual assault. And I don't think it's a universal experience to be sexual assaulted, especially as a teenager, but I do think it's unfortunately still pretty common.

Then she gets back to Barbieland and has to confront the patriarchy head on, has to learn how to deal in this world catered towards men, has to learn how to develop a sense of self even though she's become depressed by the state of things. Depressed by the fact that she's changing and she doesn't know how to stop it. The "I'm not pretty anymore" moment is played for laughs cause the narrator rightfully calls out that this is an insane line to come out of Margot Robbie's mouth. But I think it speaks to going through puberty, to not feeling like you're at home in your own body anymore (hell this is the same scene where we see the Growing Up Skipper doll, a doll who's breasts can grow and shrink at her human's will - talk about body horror).

And because this is a movie centered on the hero's journey, Barbie and friends are able to get the patriarchy out of Barbieland and work towards a more equal future, but the real next step in Barbie's individual journey is seeing her creator (and this is where the gender swapped Adam/Eve myth of creation stuff really comes into full force but that's a whole other post altogether) who in a lot of ways is just Barbie's mother ("mothers stand still so daughters can look back and see how far they come" !!!!!). It's her mother figure that gets Barbie through that transition from girlhood into womanhood, who assures her that while things might not be perfect, it's still worth experiencing. (And of course there's the theme of mortality as well, that what makes the human experience special is that it's not infinite)

So that final button of Barbie going to the gynecologist for the first time is actually just the completion of her arc. I saw some people being like "I thought she was going to a job interview!" and I think that was absolutely an intentional misdirect, but I don't think her going to a job interview would've hit as hard. (For a lot of reasons, but the main one is it's a very capitalistic idea that you become an adult when you start to generate your own wealth) It had to be her going to the gynecologist, something only adults usually experience, not children. She's no longer a girl anymore, she is a woman.

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter eight: DIE YOUNG than DIE ALONE

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mention of death, mentions of religious sacrifice, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, drowning, animal cruelty, angst

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know. 

I gave Noah a look, the small seed of fear crushed the second he said that line in my head. "That's the dumbest fucking thing I've heard."

As Folio howled a laugh, Nick turned to me. "What did he–"

"Shut up," Noah scowled.

With the introductions out of the way, Nick dug into a backpack and started handing me food. "Breakfast," was all he said when I gave him a quizzical look. I was grateful for the thermos of hot coffee though.

"When did you make all this?" I asked.

"When you were knocked out. I guess I owe you some groceries," he said.

"How about some more explanations, and I'll call it even?" Even though using my food was less than enough for what he did to take care of me.

"Deal." He smiled, catching me a little off guard with how it scrunched up his whole face. It was endearing and… cute. It made my insides flutter and I felt my cheeks heat up.

Was I imagining things?

Thankfully, we all sat down so I could eat, because my feet were dying. “So what do you want to know?” Folio asked.

My mind went through all the possible things I could ask. Instead, all I said was, “I guess… start at the beginning. How did you all get involved in this… mess?”

“Well, it all started with a cult,” Folio said.

“A cult?” I blurted out.

“Should we start with the cult?” Jolly asked.

“It makes the most sense.” Folio shrugged.

“Then we would have to explain the first Watcher of the Woods,” Jolly said.

“Just… I don’t care what you start with,” I sighed. The four all shared a look, but it was Noah who sighed.

“They called themselves the Children of the Revered Father,” he said. “They consisted of a lot of the citizens of New Hope, and a few people from nearby. They made it sound like they were a Christian church, but they worshiped something far darker.

“The first Watcher was also called the Black Stag, one of many epithets. Once a year, the Black Stag required a Hollowed Vessel, or what was really a sacrifice. The Children were not picky about who they would sacrifice, though they said it was due to ‘divine means’ Of picking out who would be a vessel. Folio here was the first to be sacrificed in these parts of the woods.” Folio growled at the mention of his name, and that’s when I saw his teeth. When he snarled, his lips curled up, and I could see that his teeth formed long, jagged points. Like fangs.

“Jolly was drowned at one point between me and Folio dying,” Noah said.

“So how did you guys come into contact with the cult?” I asked Jolly and Folio.

“We were members, in a sense,” Jolly said.

“In the loosest of terms,” Folio interjected when he saw how shocked I looked. “We were barely considered to be called that.”

“I thought that’s what I was about to become,” Jolly said. “They said to become a member, I had to be baptized. Really, they just held me down until I drowned.”

“I was shipped out to what my family thought was a reformation camp for ‘misguided youths.’ Then I became a ‘runaway’ after I was killed,” Folio said.

“Nick and I were out in the woods with friends, sneaking out to smoke weed and drink beer, when we saw Folio getting gutted,” Noah said. “And then when we went to the police, they dismissed us and told everyone that we made it all up.”

“They were a part of the cult, too,” Nick said, leaning towards me. He then pulled a cigarette out and lit it.

“So we were just expected to believe that everything was just fine out in the woods, told to stay out. while people were just being killed,” Noah said, nodding towards Jolly. “And I wasn’t going to sit down and let it happen.”

“And that’s when you decided to just… Go out into the woods? For answers?” I asked.

Noah’s eyes flashed. “Yes, but not like how the article painted me,” he snarled. “I wasn’t some obsessed conspiracy theorist. I wasn’t crazy like my ex set me up as.”

“Did you… did you get your answers?” I asked, bringing my knees up to my chest.

Noah paused, staring into my face. I kept my gaze steady, not looking away. If he was looking for something in my head, he didn’t show it if he found it. He slowly nodded.

“I found them, alright, but in the form of a knife to my stomach. They wanted to sacrifice me, but I managed to get away. That’s when the Black Stag found me.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What is it?”

“It has a lot of names; The Watcher of the Woods, That Which Came From The Mountain, The Black Stag of the Below…” Jolly trailed off. “His real name can’t be spoken, so we just called him what we could.”

“The Black Stag was the reason why no one was allowed out after dark,” Nick said. “If you were out in the woods after dark, The Watcher would snatch you and eat you. And if he wasn’t fed regularly, he would come looking.”

“So the offerings…” I trailed off.

“The offerings used to be for the Black Stag,” Nick said. “He wanted human sacrifices. Noah here just happens to be easy to please.”

“Beer. Pizza. Tacos. But your apples are fine, I guess.” Noah shrugged. I was so close to slapping him into the river.

Instead, I turned to Nick and quietly asked, “Granny said that she left offerings. Is she—?” I didn’t want to voice the part where she said that Nick was supposed to secede her.

“She wasn’t a member. The Children were a perversion of our practice. We worshiped the King in Green, the benevolent version of the Watcher. The Children worshiped his darker face, The Black Stag.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest.

”So what happened to the original Watcher? This ‘Black Stag’?” I asked.

“I killed him,” said Noah.

My jaw dropped. “Y…You killed him?” I asked. Noah nodded. “How?!”

Noah mimed grabbing onto something. “Grabbed him by the horns and just—“ He mimed twisting. I flinched as if I could hear the bones break.

"There's a bit more to it than that," Nick said, rolling his eyes.

"What happened to the cult?" I asked.

"Gone. Once their god was dead, they moved to other towns. Those were the smart ones,” Jolly said.

“The ones that stayed… well, they didn't last long," Folio smirked, baring his fangs.

"What does that mean?"

"We killed them," Noah said bluntly. "A few got scared and ran off when they saw us, but the really stubborn ones tried to do stupid stuff, like restart the cult or come after me."

"And you just… killed them?" I asked.

Noah gave me a look, the answer was unspoken. “You can call us monsters. They did. So we acted the part.”

“Not gonna lie, it felt good killing the people who killed me,” Folio said, shrugging.

“And if we didn’t do something, more people would’ve died. Other kids would’ve,” Noah said. “So this is our job now. Call us haints, monsters, whatever—“

“I don’t think you’re monsters,” I whispered. Noah heard it and shut up.

I meant it. Something in my gut was telling me that they weren’t telling me everything like I asked for; that there was definitely more to the story. How did they become what they were now? If Noah killed the original Watcher, how is he the Watcher now?

On one hand, I felt like I was owed an explanation for everything. I had been practically dragged unwillingly into their circle of weirdness, so I should know the whole truth. But on the other hand, they had told me so much already in just one day. If I was going to stay, I would have the time to learn.

If I stayed.

I couldn’t go back to Newport, where everything used to be familiar and safe, but now tainted. Too many bad memories. I came here for a fresh start, and I guess I was getting it. I also couldn’t afford to move again, let alone back to Newport.

And… I didn't want to leave. Despite all this and maybe almost dying, I didn't want to run away. I wanted to stay.

This place felt like home.

"So that's why I think he's the hardest boss in all the Dark Souls games," Nick told Noah.

We were heading back to my house, Noah tagging along to "make sure we got back safe and sound" as he put it. I had been silent since we left, leaving the two men to fill the void. Once or twice I would catch Nick glancing at me, but we would both look away quickly.

WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND, LITTLE RABBIT?

I winced at the sudden intrusion. Don't call me that. And get out of my head.

ANSWER THE QUESTION.

I bristled at the authoritative tone his voice took. You're not the boss of me, and you don't scare me.

LITTLE RABBIT, YOU SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME. YOU'RE NOT THINKING ABOUT RUNNING OFF, ARE YOU?

I glared up at Noah, who had been talking to Nick this whole time. Why do you care? You've done nothing but be mean to me.

Nick faced forward, and Noah slid his eyes to meet mine.

I CARE BECAUSE NICK CARES. YOU'RE THE ONLY FRIEND HE HAS THAT ISN'T BOUND TO THE WOODS. YOU LEAVE, HE ONCE AGAIN HAS NOTHING.

I'm not leaving. So you can breathe easy now.

WOULD IF I COULD.

Smartass.

NO SHIT.

He sighed physically.

BUT IF YOU’RE REALLY GONNA STAY, AND STAY WITH NICK… THEN I GUESS YOU AND I COULD BE FRIENDS, TOO.

Soon we crossed from the woods and onto my lawn. I had shed Nick's jacket soon after we left the hollow as soon as August returned in full force. "I'll see you again tonight?" Nick asked Noah.

"Same time as always," Noah replied. He then turned towards me. "You're always welcome to join, if we didn't scare you away."

"I think I've had enough fun for one day," I said. Noah shrugged.

Noah shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm sure knocking your skull against a—" He stopped when he glanced over at my house.

Nick and I looked in the same direction at the same time. "What? What is it?" I asked as Nick stepped onto my porch. I tried to follow, but Noah grabbed my arm, holding me back. That's when I saw the bright orange paper stuck between my screen door and the doorway. "What is that?"

Nick pulled it out, silently read the front for about a few minutes too long, and then looked up at Noah. He then held it up to us.

"’The Veridiction of the Revered Father’.”

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

[survivingthelonelylife-blog]

Woe is mine and I am woe - Part 11

Wednesday x Enid 

Full Work

New semester

It has been 37 days since Enid has talked to me about anything unrelated to school. And I despise myself for knowing that. At first, I wondered if she was simply readjusting and dealing with the awkward questions of what she did over the summer, why she hasn’t been updating her social media non-stop, and the one she seemed to avoid the most, why she spent most of the summer with me and if we were together. This question she either avoided like the plague or laughed off denying before quickly changing the subject. After a month of this I now believe whatever was happening has faded and decide Enid has made the choice to be nothing more than roommates. It affords me much more solitude and writing time without her constantly bothering me.

I had decided to resume my previous state of self in shoving any and all shreds of feeling down where they could not be reached and instead focusing on my studies and refocusing on my previously stalled search for my so-called stalker. Who is clearly either a Nevermore attendee or staff or a member of the Jericho community as I did not receive more than threatening emojis over the course of the summer. If Enid could shove her giant ball of emotions away when we were in proximity to each other than I can do it with my hands tied behind my back. That is what I thought I had convinced myself until Enid emerged into our room bawling and making a horrendous noise I could only compare to a screaming banshee.

I stupidly approach the howling pup. “What happened.” I try to say without letting on the concern I feel building.

I am met with no answer except her curling tight into a ball on her bed, as if she is trying to escape my presence. I turn on my heels and exit the room. If she won’t tell me, I am sure Yoko will. I reach the quad to find Yoko, Bianca, and Davina huddled together whispering.

“Wednesday, wow, I didn’t think you existed outside your room and classes.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Why, are you telling us you care about Enid being upset? You have barely acknowledged each other in weeks. Enid doesn’t even bring you up anymore.”

That stung more than it should. “I see a new semester has only brought back the bitchiness in you full force Barclay.”

“I see it has only brought back the self-centeredness in you Addams.”

Before I can get in another word Yoko intervenes. “You both are ridiculous. Enid ran into her brothers, and they gave her shit about the summer.”

I feel my hands ball tightly into fists of immense rage. “What did they say to her.” I spit my words out like daggers.

“Something about her mom and her staying with you. We couldn’t hear all of it from over here. Then she started screaming at them. Saying no one wanted her in the pack anyways so why would she come back. She ran off crying after that and now here you are.”

I turned away without saying another word. It felt like hot metal was bubbling in my throat. I was seeing red as I approached the table where the wolf pack sat in utter disbelief at my arrival.

“What’s your problem Addams.”

I hardly feel conscious as I grab the first boy by the collar. “There is fear in your eyes Sinclair.” He tries to break from my grasp, but I refuse to budge until I feel a blow on stomach. One of the other boys has deemed it wise to attack me. I let his brother go and turn just in time to miss his fist against my face. I duck and uppercut him as I stand back up. The other four boys come towards me; I am tempted to pull out the knife hidden in my shoe, but I decide to give them a fighting chance. The pain I will feel from their few and far between hits will be nothing compared to the humiliation that will follow them when they inevitably lose. I am beginning to see spots in my vision as the pain of my knuckles impacting with one of the boys half-open jaw causing their sharp teeth to drag open my skin, sears up my whole arm. By the time Bianca and the others get over to us I can hardly see and feel quite disorientated. I can hear groans of pain as the wolves are sprawled on the ground covered in mostly their own blood and holding different appendages which may be broken or fractured. I do not remember the walk back to my dorm besides Bianca’s slowly fading yells for me to return.

I slam the door shut pain searing up my arm against the motion. I can hear Enid shifting off her bed. I refuse to turn and meet her gaze I feel burning into the back of my skull. I begin to move towards the bathroom but suddenly feel her presence invading my personal space. I can’t stop now, I can’t look at her, can’t acknowledge her.

“W…we…Wednesday…? What ha…happened?” She stammers out between sobs.

The blood in my ears is pounding. I turn to look at her, unable to stop myself, staring deep into those pools. No, this is not, I will not, I cannot.

“Wednesday! You’re bleeding!”

Suddenly I am acutely aware of the blood starting to slow but still dripping into a puddle on the floor. The pain returns, snapping me back into reality as I turn and enter the bathroom, locking myself away from her. Enid pounds on the door, begging for me to let her in, to let her help. My vision is getting blackened around the edges again, and dizziness begins to overwhelm me. Gasping for air, barley able to move. Was I stabbed, did one of the boys bite me or claw me or otherwise fatally wound me. I can’t let those stupid mutts be the cause of my demise. Metal taste fills my throat, burning, bubbling. Breathing is getting increasingly labored. I can’t move, numbness, paralysis. Am I suffering from poisoning.

Blackness. Only my ears seem to still be operational. The pounding intensifies before I hear the door be seemingly ripped from its hinges. More burning now across my skin. Something is touching me. Or someone. I awake and feel a wave of déjà vu hit me. Like all those months ago in the hospital, Enid is asleep holding my hand between hers. I try to pull away but feel her grip tighten. Upon reassessment of myself I find that not only is my hand bandaged but there are also bandages on my abdomen and one of my legs. How pointless. I will probably be healed already; I suppose she wanted to be helpful. My hand is burning against her touch, and I force myself away from her. She barely moves.

I quietly exit the window and step out onto into the cold night. Removing the bandages, I see that I was right, and all the wounds have healed into barely noticeable white scars. All bruising has disappeared as well.

I shiver against the dark fall evening. No clouds but also no stars in sight, only the bright blue moon hangs in the sky. I stare up at it trying to omit the afternoon’s events from my memory, for once not desiring to bask in the victory.

“You’ll freeze to death out here.”

I jump back uncertain when Enid joined me on the terrace or how she did so without my realizing.

“I would welcome deaths embrace.”

Enid rolled her eyes at my response and scoffed. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I’m sure Yoko has filled you in.”

“I would like to hear your side of it.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter. My side of it. Their side of it. Yoko’s view of it. None of it matters. What happened, happened.”

“They can’t tell me why you did it though.”

Silence clung to the end of her words. She is looking at me. There is curiosity in her eyes mixed with something else. Pain? Anger? Concern? My ability to read her expressions is slipping.

“Tell me why you did it Wednesday.” She spoke in a whisper now, barely audible.

“They don’t have the right to torment you. They only have the power you give them Enid.”

Sniffling. Of course, she cries at this. Does she ever stop the incessant emotional outpouring. She is still looking at me but when I turn to meet her gaze she returns into our room. I remain on the terrace for a while longer enjoying the numbness crawling up my limbs as the bitter air pierces through my skin. Enid reemerges and approaches me quickly placing a blanket over my shoulders. I pull away and let the blanket drop to the floor.

“I’m not gonna let you freeze Wednesday.” She places the blanket back on me holding it in place for a moment to keep me from repeating the action.

The silence is beginning to feel difficult to bear, oddly so, seeing how silence has been my constant companion the majority of my life, making an unfortunate return in the recent weeks. After what seemed like hours but in reality, was no more than minutes Enid stumbles sleepily back inside.

“Don’t stay out here forever…please…”

I respond with a simple nod knowing I will probably do exactly that. The pleasure of death never comes but neither does the release of sleep. Soon the sun is breaking the monotone horizon. I decide to finally go inside knowing my alarm will soon be sounding. I dress and leave early for class before Enid is even stirring. I can’t stand to look at her and let myself be sucked back into her. This mindless edging in and out of friendship of more to the nothingness that seems to be slowly gnawing away at me.

Classes pass at a pace slower and more painfully than even a good racking can produce. By the time I reach my bed I have little idea how I did not pass out from the lack of sleep. Enid enters the room skipping over to her side. I can feel her cheeriness filling the otherwise dark room. I don’t acknowledge when she walks up to my bed. I can hardly even hear her voice as she attempts to talk to me and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing I am listening. After a few moments more she says my name in a quizzical but slightly concerned tone. It stings as it hits my ears, the sensation showing me I am still in fact awake. She finally gives up and exits the room not returning until curfew has forced her to. Sleep eludes me again.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Howling Love - Chapter 27

*Warning Adult Content*

Amille Laurent.

[Max no] I used my cell-phone to shriek as Max threw her chips at me.

I had teased her about Teja having a crush on her but Teja being a year younger than all of us made her a bit awkward on the situation.

So instead of dealing with it, she was throwing food at me.

[I mean he's growing in nicely, has Beta blood, trust he'll be tall like uncle Kyra, so what's not to love, what a man] I argued again and she finally stood up to chase me all around the cafeteria causing a ruckus with the other students who were eating, also making them laugh.

"Come back here Amille," she shrieked.

[Oh hell no] I called out back and everyone laughed as I jumped onto a table then tried to run on top.

"Got you," she triumphantly growled as she stood by my only way down but I wasn't part of a wolf pack and mated to an Alpha for no reason, so I looked to the closest wolf and smiled.

"Oh no, you don't," Max dared as I put fingers in my mouth and whistled hard calling for their attention.

'Catch me.' I projected onto them with my mind and they stood up ready to do so as I jumped right into their arms.

"You sound, beautiful," the wolf complimented as he let me down.

'Thanks and thanks for the assist,' I replied mentally before taking off again leaving more people laughing but I didn't get far.

"Whoa, short-stack where are you running to."

It was so easy for him to grab me and throw me over his shoulder, he was larger than anybody in school and much stronger.

'Mate,' I whispered and I felt a smack on my bum when he walked back with me to our table.

"Haha, I caught you," Maxine danced in victory as I tried to wriggle out of Camryn's hold.

"Settle down and finish what you started," he ordered smacking my bum again then setting me down on his lap.

My cousin came over to us with food, well more of it for them.

"So what were you saying about Teja and I?" Max hissed narrowing her eyes on me.

"Teja what now?"

Speak of the wolf himself.

My younger cousin showed up and I smirked wanting to say something but Camryn thrust up and the feeling of his member as I sat on his lap made me silent as a lamb, blushing thoroughly.

I looked at him accusingly and he had a knowing smirk on his lips, damn his large, fantastically made face, I couldn't even say something bad, ugh I was loosing my grip.

So I sighed and settled down to feed my mate.

[Teja my bag please] I asked my cousin using my cell-phone and he grabbed it giving it to me, smiled then turned to face me with a wink before returning to his chat with Dean and Max.

[So how's been a whole week of classes, non stop assignments?] I asked my neanderthal as he groaned looking exhausted.

We might've split his pack workload between us but there was still so much of it, with school closing soon we had more assignments then exam week which was approaching soon, it was a lot to handle, especially for Camryn after his family practically imploded.

We had talked about his mom poisoning my dad and had agreed that it couldn't affect us, they were adults, they could figure things out on their own without us meddling.

My dad was a bit furious but after what I knew to be retail therapy and a lot of self love.

He finally just disconnected from the whole issue and told me to avoid the Luna and Alpha for a while, despite them being Camryn's parents, it was better they sorted the mess out without us involved.

'Drink,' I accosted Camryn as I fed him the home made food I had brought.

He was picky lately about the food we all ate, where and almost always made sure that I was with one of my friends or cousin when he wasn't around. it was the worried Alpha in him.

I understood, I knew the phase would pass, I wasn't going to be impossible and argue about his rules.

If it got excessive I would tell him and besides I already had the same system even before he ordered it, so I wasn't really bothered.

'You need a haircut,' I mentioned running my hand through his hair.

"I know but you also like pulling on it when we..."

I immediately clamped down his mouth, it caused everyone to laugh.

'I'm watching you mister,' I hissed as he made me lean down to give me a quick kiss when I removed my hand.

When we parted he whined and I knew he wanted more food so I fed him, like the child he wanted to be.

"Camryn I never thought I would see the day you would be this in love and having your toy feed you."

I knew only person who could be that venomous.

I turned to face Vincent as Camryn put his hand over me protectively whilst growling lowly toward Vincent.

"His mate, not his toy, not his fuckboy, not his downlow guy like you were. His mate Vincent. Now I suggest you wriggle back to where you came from you... you venomous toad, we're trying to have lunch here without you making us puke. Go away," Orlando had all but challenged Vincent to say or do something.

Once the Beta and my mate's ex-boyfriend were similarly tall but not anymore.

Orlando had bulked up like his dad and put on more height, like Camryn so he domineered over Vincent who stood in shock.

"Mate," he whispered as I smiled back at Camryn and caressed his cheek soothing his anger.

I never got to see Vincent leave as I grabbed another sub.

'Come on, open up for me, this is healthy stuff,' I coaxed as Camryn smiled and opened his mouth to take a bite.

He sighed in bliss as the food hit his taste buds.

"Angel baby, I could get used to this," he muttered and I hugged him with a chuckle.

I could feel his anger disappear as he rumbled in my hold.

After eating a lot, like something close to half my body weight, lunch finally came to an end.

"Thank you for the food," Camryn stated as we walked to class with our hands entwined like always.

Goddess I could drown in his eyes.

'Anytime boy scout,' I replied with the link like most times when we were together, he had told me my voice sounded like a melody and he would never get bored of hearing it.

I wanted to tell Camryn that something was different about me again, about my throat.

I had thought it was just growing pains all week but I knew something was different, I didn't want to worry him more so until I understood what was it, that was different I wouldn't say anything.

We first came up by my locker and I switched bags and books then he left me in AP Biology whilst he went for ordinary people biology, it made me laugh or rather amused me when I thought about it.

"Mister Luna, I'll see you at the field," he asserted sweetly placing a kiss on my hand.

'Charmer,' I teased before he took off and I walked into class.

"Ah my best student, glad you could  join us," the teacher addressed me and I chuckled taking my seat.

"So who can tell me the function."

Class went on as I listened in but at the back of my mind something was nagging me, a feeling, a sense of danger.

When class finished I was last to leave since I wanted to hand in three of my extra credit projects for my total score for exam week which honestly didn't surprise the teacher.

"You've already got the total needed to get a decent B+ with these you're just taking the exam to boost your GPA, I'm impressed," she commented and I smiled happily.

[Thank you] I signed and she nodded.

I bid her farewell and carried my stuff to my locker but I was surprised to find Vincent there and he didn't look friendly at all.

[What do you want?] I quickly typed on my cell-phone and he snickered.

"Oh nothing, just a friendly chat," he replied and I narrowed my eyes on him.

[Let's have that friendly chat when Camryn is around okay?] I asserted turning on my heel to look for any of my friends or my cousins.

"They aren't here and if you want poor Maxine to be just fine, I suggest you come with and don't even think about telling anyone with that mind link you so enjoy," he growled and I turned around to face a video of Max struggling, gagged in chains, oh no.

'What do you want?' I demanded.

"Now you're speaking my language," he replied as he forced me to drop my bag, since everyone had rushed to classes or practice no one was in the halls, just perfect.

We walked out to the front of the school, just by a car which was parked suspiciously close to the main gate.

When we got close I wasn't fast enough to dodge the needle that stabbed my arm and caused an excruciating amount of pain to burn through me which effectively knocked me out.

'Camryn,' that was my last call as finally the need to let go sunk in.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Halloween (2018): The Mask of Michael Myers HD CLIP" on YouTube

It turns out to be their plan to put us in the mental hospital and put him there and we don't have the power and we're going to try to invade if we can't we should probably figure it out it's time you have to defeated and is and the planetoids and we can't get in here he says we probably still won't and we'll probably still trying to do that I'm trying to take it away from the federal government and it's wrong it doesn't it's motivation and such it's wrong it doesn't work and he doesn't want to go there it's prison but I end up there somehow in the very place that we plan on putting him he says and it's true and I have to break up and they give me opportunity here and he says you could easily pick the concrete up and smash it and break the others free so I'm pretty much decided to and it's how it starts and they run for their lives in the movie and they can't run fast enough I'll tell you what this guy is powerful it doesn't want to be there and it said that they shut the place down afterwards and we believe it and we're in a lot of trouble and we can't do anything to him we shouldn't be trying and we are out there and now the max are at us and we're hitting the max and a lot of them and it's a war and they're actually getting hit by us they're sort of see why we're kind of possessed and my name will become mystique fairly soon after Hit girl

Lilly

What the hell I'm going to be tortured to no end despite his max I do understand something you're a different kind and race and we're sitting here torturing the s*** out of you it doesn't help us the max aren't helping either and we can't stop them when I say is if the kids joining them and hitting us we'll never make it and nobody is on his side it's starting to show

Trump

I miss character and I can hear her telling him to screw I can hear them saying it a little what they say is screw these people and stop doing that s*** you idiot so it doesn't help it's just wrong and she says you're actually right or rebels and we can't do a s*** putting you in here it gets us in here he says how would you know that I mean how would you really know that said laughing and said here we go again cuz we're here and the other side howling cuz he was pretending he's being he is bane they heard what he said too and he came and gave her orders and she did it and then she said he'll take the blame and they said we know who you're following and it worked and he doesn't care just as long as he gets it done so they get out of the mental hospital and I'm trying to thank him they can't get over there they just barely escaped with their lives and they figured out what's going on

This is coming up in just a few days

Because the series is running and it doesn't take long and she's slaughtering people with gas and poison and fire and more and it's going rapidly

Hera

Zues she said her whole share of above it's amazing

Yes an amazing person is me and we are doing it together and he's amazing too

Hera

The car sales are through the roof electric motorcycle sales are through the roof and nobody can stop it now now the Chinese American motorcycle company because they named it one of their names so when they came up with and it's going crazy it's out of control even though they named it both female names no it's a man name and they're out of control the sales are through the roof as well as the boat sales from Brazil it's a massive massive massive company already and they're taking over Bayliner and they're selling as their own brand it is a huge deal it's a massive company and they're selling tons and tons of boats to morlock and the whole design is different he said the top is the same and we're still building them and they're working in the factories and they're thankful

Thor Freya

I Dare You employ my workers anyways I probably open some assembly factories for Hard knock kicker 5150 if I could qualify

Dempsy

I've been trying to qualify so far it's like one plant and it's not the United States it's in Mexico and he's going to open it up today but other people have like 20 and Trump and company have none other people who are more locked and Brad doesn't have any and Jason has a few but really those people keep harming our son so screw them but there's other morlock who have a lot of them Camilla has three which is pretty good for her and there are more likes to look like her have 20 each they're building like madness in their countries and they need them badly

Thor Freya

This is a massive day it's usually important it's getting more and more important

Olympus

[lovingperfectionsblog]

A Bit Young

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader, George Russell x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Toto recruits George to babysit his new assistant on the way to the gala while with the other drivers, but Daniel really wants the honour.

Warning: Swearing, a joke about George having PTSD, jokes about age gaps.

Word Count: 2006 words.

Authors note: This potentially could have been better, but the whole thought just makes me giggle.

______________________________________________________________

“George, you’re going to be sitting at the front next to my new assistant okay” Toto informed the young driver who had already found his place near the back of the minibus, “so I’m going to need you and Carlos to swop”.

“Boss, seriously?” George wanted to argue but the look Toto threw back at him warned him that there was no place for him to do so, “Yes Sir” is all he managed to get out before climbing out of the minibus to make room for Carlos and  taking his place at the front with the empty chair next to him.

“Don’t look so upset, just keep her company, she’s new, make her feel welcome” Toto continued with the instructions once George had settled in his new spot, straightening his jacket, making sure it wasn’t too creased for the gala they were all required to attend, drivers and principles alike, “Oh and she’s pretty smart, master’s degree and all, so don’t make a fool of yourself” and with that he made his way over the opposite bus that had the principles in, leaving George to face the taunting of the other drivers.

“It shouldn’t be too bad mate, maybe she’s a milf” Pierre began assuming the new assistant was older as they normally are, clapping his shoulder from behind him laughing, all the other drivers joining in on the mock laughter.

“Didn’t take George as one to be into the older ladies” Daniel added in, increasing the laughter, George internally groaning at how awkward this was going to be.

What did he know about talking to middle aged women? Why couldn’t you just sit with Toto so he could join in the festivities with the rest of the boys. Instead now he has to make polite conversation with some woman about her kids for the 30 minute drive to the venue. And to top it all off, none of the others were going to let this go either, he was already imagining the names they were going to start calling him.

“Yeah, isn’t that Max’s whole deal?” Lando added in, earning him a slap to the back of the head from Max, with a few choice words added in to top it all off. None of it stopping the other drivers from another round of laughter though.

“Guys, please-“ George wasn’t even sure what he was asking for yet, but he allowed the sentence to finish itself, “Help”. That even made him laugh, what the fuck was he asking for help with.

“Needing some tips to chat up the ladies mate?” Charles asked through the laughter.

“It’s not that bad Georgie, maybe she really likes you and you get her number” Daniel was definitely not trying to be helpful; he was enjoying this far too much for it to be meant in any sincere way.

“You know what they say about older women in bed mate” Pierre threw him a wink, making George internally groan at the thought.

“Imagine sleeping with your boss’s assistant” Max was suddenly howling at his own addition to the comment, causing all the other drivers to follow suit.

“No, imagine sleeping with your boss’s middle-aged assistant” Daniel added in, secretly hoping none of the other drivers took a dig at his own age.

Suddenly the laughter died down at the sound of an unknown woman’s voice making its way through the parking lot, all of them assuming this was the new assistant. Every single driver now paying close attention to the windows, waiting to see you come out behind the other busses and cars so they could get a good look at who George would be entertaining for the night.

“Toto!” You shouted out towards your boss who was already seated in his bus, waiting to go to the event.

“Nice to see you finally arrive” Toto shouted back, “you know we’ve been waiting for you right?”

“Can’t rush looking this good boss” you immediately countered.

This was not the attitude any of the drivers were expecting, especially from someone they were assuming was going to significantly older and more professional, considering who Toto was.

“You do look lovely Y/n, now can you jump in so we won’t be late?” you gave your boss a little twirl of the golden dress you were wearing for the gala, him giving you a nod in approval as this was your first outing as his assistant, most of the team, drivers included, hadn’t even met you yet. He knew you were nervous to meet everyone, despite the confidence you exuded, so he truly did want to make it as easy as possible for you, hoping George would be one for easy conversation and making you laugh, introducing you to the other drivers and making you feel welcome.

“Boss, what is this I hear you’ve placed me next to George like I need some sort of babysitting?” You couldn’t believe he had done this, this was going to be the most awkward situation, you wanted to be able to sit next to whoever you wanted, in particular Daniel or Pierre, no offence to George in the least, but surely? And your boss goes and ruins any chance you might have of it. Toto owed you big.

“Thought he’d be perfect for conversation”  Toto decided to justify his actions, knowing all the boys would be listening in and watching the entire interaction by now.

By now you had walked into view of the drivers, none of them actually believing this was Toto’s new assistant, going against what they were all normally used to. You were young and gorgeous, graced in a gold dress that left them all speechless.

Suddenly George was secretly thanking Toto for making him sit next to you. The other drivers already beginning to feel jealous at the easy pass George got, not even having to try to have a conversation with you.

“I will literally pay you to swop seats with me” Pierre offered George, not taking his eyes off of you once.

“I’ll get you drinks the entire evening” Daniel counter offered, ready to bid what he needed in order to get him to swop with you.

“Oh, so now we have no problem with sitting next to the new assistant yeah?” George shot back playfully, feeling smug at how this had turned in his favour.

Meanwhile outside the bus, you had yet to notice all the drivers staring at you, continuing your conversation with Toto.

“And pray tell, what am I meant to talk to little British George about? The weather?” you gave Toto an incredulous look as he began to chuckle with the knowledge that all the boys were sitting staring at the two of you. Although he knew not a single one was interested in him being a part of this conversation, considering all their eyes were plastered on you.  

“Boss, the poor boy had never seen the sun before going to his first international race, the only sun he knew was on the Teletubbies, I have no doubt the first day he woke up and saw the sun didn’t have a face he screamed his little head off and required intensive and immediately therapy, thinking that it had died and here he was witnessing a corpse in the sky” you continued taking digs at the boy, making your boss laugh even harder watching Georges face twist in horror at being lambasted without having the opportunity to defend himself, “And now you want me to talk to him about the weather? Couldn’t you have placed me next to someone with a similar climate to my country, like Daniel?” You finished off, giving Toto a sly smile, hoping he’d allow you to swop.

“Swop with me right now” Daniel was already getting up, determined to make George swop with him now knowing you wanted to sit next to him too.

Max was laughing his head off, grabbing Daniels jacket trying to get him to sit down, Pierre also now standing in hopes George would swop with him more readily now.

Toto’s only response was to point behind you at the car full of drivers watching.

You paused, hoping the ground would swallow you whole. With that you took a deep breath before putting on your most charming smile and turning around to face the bus behind you. The first thing you notice though is what seems like a small amount of chaos erupting in the bus itself, Daniel on his feet with Max pulling on his jacket, Pierre trying to dodge Daniels grasp, George staring directly at you looking mortified and the rest all laughing hysterically.

“George, darling, how’s the PTSD doing? The sun not terrifying you too much?” Why on earth was that what you started with? Although it seemingly was a hit with the other drivers, other than George of course, who stood there stuttering like a goldfish, trying to formulate an answer.

Instead of answering you though, he turned around, directing Daniel instead, “You owe me drinks this entire evening” and with that was standing up and making way for Daniel to take his spot.

Daniel didn’t even take a second before he was agreeing and shoving past Pierre before the latter could steal his new seat, determined to be the one to sit next to you.

“Jesus mate, could you move any faster?” Charles asked, all the drivers chuckling at the frantic movements of Daniel as he fought for his spot.

“Was is something I said?” You asked George as you began getting in the bus, Daniel holding his hand out to help you climb in and take you seat next to him.

“Nah, you’re just not really his type” Carlos informed you.

“I would hope not,  bit weird him lusting after his boss’s assistant isn’t it?” You asked the group at large.

“Oh no, it’s more like you’re a bit young for him” Lando corrected you, Max suddenly shooting him a look, knowing where this new line of conversation was heading.

“Good lord, what it is with F1 drivers and older women, clearly a bloody kink for you lot” you immediately countered, looking alarmed at the rest of them, almost accusing them all of the same thing.

The entire bus burst out laughing again, George attempting to defend himself to the new woman in the bus and to the rest of the drivers, but truthfully he knows it was no use and instead opted to just sit down next to Max, hoping if he instead kept quiet he would no longer be the object of all the teasing. Thankful that they were now closing the doors so they could finally head off and he could get drunk at the gala at Daniels expense.

“Guess it’s lucky for me that he’s into older women” Daniel leaned in whispering to you, hoping none of the other drivers would hear over the sound of the engine.

“Lucky for me you don’t work for Toto” you shot him a wink in return.

Suddenly Pierre was popping his head up between the two of you, gaining your attention.

“I just want to mention that I don’t work for Toto either and am significantly younger than Daniel, so, you should keep that in mind tonight” Pierre was barely able to finish before Daniel was shoving his head away, trying to get him to leave before you could throw any more ideas in your head about rather spending time with him over Daniel, you just laughing away at their antics.

“If this is what I’m going to have to deal with all evening maybe I should go back to George” you began lifting yourself off the seat to add emphasis to your joke.

“No!” Daniel and Pierre shout in unison, both shooting each other a look as they simultaneously attempt to prevent you from moving over to George again, silently declaring a fun war between the two for the evening, not wanting to add a third to the mix.

“You’re a bit young for me love” George shouted towards the front, shooting you a wink.

[bucksfucks]

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for. 

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

     Ex-wife.

    Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

    His ex-wife was threatening you.

    And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

    “Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

    That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

    Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

    Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

    “I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

    You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

    “There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

    It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

    But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

    Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

    How far back?

    You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

    “Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence. 

    “I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.” 

    You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers. 

    And you knew exactly who to go to for them. 

    “I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?” 

    You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door. 

    Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was. 

    It felt...wrong. 

    But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front     door. 

    You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway. 

    The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd. 

    People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more. 

    You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just     to get a look at. 

    The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor. 

    You were so close, before you were stopped. 

    “Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him. 

    “I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors. 

    “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

    “It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left. 

    The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls. 

    “This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

    He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.” 

    You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office. 

    It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony. 

    Tony was an old friend, sort of.

    He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother. 

    So just one giant pain in your ass.

    “So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

    You told Tony everything. 

    From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do. 

    Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy. 

    “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer. 

    “Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.” 

    He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped. 

    There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

    You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with. 

    “Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony. 

    “Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug. 

    “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with. 

    It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start. 

    Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour. 

    The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it. 

    Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married. 

    Married. 

    You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him. 

    Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go. 

    The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it. 

    You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it. 

    It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace. 

    You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day. 

    Everything led you right back to Bucky. 

    So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky. 

    Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear. 

    “You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you. 

    “He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

    He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.” 

    This time, it was your turn to fall silent. 

    “Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.” 

    “They had spies, agents, hit-men.” 

    No. You shook your head, no. 

    “James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.” 

    You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you. 

    “Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.” 

    You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name. 

    “By that point it looks like James—” 

    “Bucky. His name is Bucky.” 

    Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.” 

    That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though. 

    “Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.” 

    He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.” 

    “Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.” 

    With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    “So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?” 

    Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island. 

    “That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name. 

    He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it. 

    “But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer. 

    “Unfinished business.” 

    They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky. 

    “Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile. 

    “Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.” 

    Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race. 

    He was worried. 

    Not about himself, but about you. 

    And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough. 

    So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

    “We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

    You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

    “I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

    “I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

    There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

    “You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

    Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body. 

    “I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him. 

    You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think. 

    “Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself. 

    “And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt. 

    And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed. 

    “Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.” 

    Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it. 

    “Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself. 

    “God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.” 

    You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words. 

    “Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.” 

    Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming. 

    He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

    You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap. 

    “I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.” 

    You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name. 

    Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums. 

    “If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment. 

    “Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you. 

    “Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him. 

    “I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him. 

    “I love you too, Sweets.” 

    It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do. 

[koqabear]

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. ���I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

[seijorhi]

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free. 

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you. 

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here. 

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him. 

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. 

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again. 

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you. 

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to. 

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates. 

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared. 

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms? 

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already. 

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness. 

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best. 

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief. 

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around. 

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you. 

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from. 

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter. 

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards. 

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again. 

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them. 

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off. 

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for. 

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing. 

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat. 

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better. 

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be. 

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least. 

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement. 

[kitchenisking]

100 Fics for A 100 Followers😍 (31-40) 

the difference between going back and going home by thepsychicclam - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 34219, sterek)

Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn't expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn't expect to fall in love with him.

Space That You Now Hold by GotTheSilver - (Rating: Mature, Words: 5483, sterek)

“Oh my God,” Stiles mumbles. “What the hell am I meant to do with this?”

“Stiles, hush.” Allison elbows him. “Derek brought it for you.”

Allison understands, she can tell what he’s doing. The wolf whines, doesn’t know why Stiles isn’t getting it. He should be getting it. Letting go of the buck, Derek steps forward and rests a hand on Stiles’ thigh.

one step too fire by jesuisgrace, TwistedAmusement13 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2226, sterek)

"Stiles." He beams up at him, a beautiful smile that lights up his whole face, like he can't help it. "We have rules, guidelines, and procedures for a reason."

or

The long suffering lieutenant deals with his beautiful cocky new firefighter

The Green Eyed Monster by wyrmwolf - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2416, sterek)

Derek Hale fucks like he’s in love. Probably because he is.

In which Stiles is a hooker, Derek gets possessive, and they’re both idiots. Just not in that same order.

The Gang Leader by halcyon1993 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7768, sterek)

To prove to his bigoted coworkers that his omega status doesn’t mean he can’t do his job, Deputy Stiles Stilinski infiltrates a gang of alphas in hopes of gathering intel on them. His plans are dashed when he finds himself falling for the leader.

Easy Wind, Downy Flake by wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 16341, sterek)

The man’s hazel eyes snap with something like anger, his mouth a thin line. “We aren’t open.”

Stiles opens his mouth, gaze sliding from the fire, being cheerful, to the man standing five feet from the fire who looks like he wouldn’t know cheerful if it bit him in the ass. “The snow is bad. I barely made it here. If I try to go over the pass in this weather they’ll find my body at the bottom of the mountain come spring.”

Eclipsim by xxjinchuurikixx - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8985, sterek)

A howl far in the distance splits the air, and Stiles’ eyes fly open as he shoots back up into a sitting position. The howl is followed by another, and another, and Stiles is left to wonder how many of the howls are wolves and how many are mythic beasts that he knows by name. The forest is in an uproar in a manner of minutes, and Stiles looks up at the bloody red moon gleaming, almost completely taken over by the fire of the eclipse. -

Red moons are apparently not a good time for alphas. Derek shows Stiles what a feral, aroused werewolf looks like up close.

He's Got a Type, and It's Mischief by ash_mcj - (Rating: T, Words: 925, sterek)

“So...broody type, huh?” Kate prompted, shifting herself closer to him and reaching over to place her hand on his thigh suggestively. “I can get behind that. Or actually, I can get under that. Especially when they look like you.”

Derek hated clubs. He really, really did.

“You’re not my type,” He told her as he brushed her hand off of his leg.

Kate laughed as if she couldn’t even comprehend that he might think that. “Babe, I’m everyone’s type.”

“Not mine.”

“Bet you I could be,” She challenged.

Derek downed the rest of the beer in his glass and wished for the thousandth time that he could get drunk. “Bet you couldn’t.”

[or: Derek is waiting on Stiles at the club and Kate tries to shoot her shot. Too bad she's not his type.]

That's New by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2459, sterek)

Stiles missed out on seeing Derek's transformation, so a few days after Mexico, he goes to see for himself.

~~*~~

“Come on dude. You’re making me regret saving your life. Again.” Stiles grins and kicks his leg, knowing full well that Derek can hear his lie.

Derek rolls his eyes again and stands, peeling off his shirt, dropping it to the couch before unbuttoning his jeans.

“Oh, um, okay,” Stiles mumbles, looking away and slurping at his coke. He knew about the naked part, was expecting it. But expecting – imagining – Derek naked is nothing like seeing it happen right in front of him. Derek steps out of his jeans and walks towards the middle of the room in just his black boxer briefs. Stiles knows the rules of no homo means he shouldn’t look, but he’s always felt pretty damn homo when it comes to Derek, whose hands are resting at the waistband of his underwear, and Stiles doesn't just want to look, he wants to touch and lick and oh damn.

Through the Breaks in the Foliage by cloudsarefluffy - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2855, sterek)

In a less than traditional society, werewolves behave more like actual wolves rather than their human counterparts. This means that they have dynamics and drives just like the wild animals they take after. Because of that, there's mating seasons and even an instinctual drive to make a pack of one's own for both alphas and omegas. 

After all, it's why Stiles has slaved himself over his small (but adequate, mind you) den out in the wild expanse of the woods. It's just a good thing that all of his laborious efforts get noticed by the right alpha named Derek.

[1kook]

commercial break ; EIGHT

this is part of my netflix & chill series! takes place a little after part 7 :)

SUMMARY You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same.  WARNINGS unprotected sex, nipple clamps, overstimulation, pretty pet names for jk, oc is so fckin horNEE, both have a high sex drive, oc is obsessed with the koobies MISC flashbacks to jk’s ex gf yes you read right!, there’s backstory yuck, taehyung the bestie, jk is just so happy where he is now <3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.9k

NOTES finally after six months..... we get a glimpse of jk’s life pre-netflix n chill 🥶 also i just rlly wanted to write jk wearing the nipple clamps hehe 

Taehyung had warned him about this. 

“As hard as it is to believe,” he had said one night during their first year of university, haphazardly parked outside of a Wendy’s at three in the morning. Jungkook was trying to finish an assignment— early, always early —when he had been abruptly hauled to fulfill Taehyung’s spicy chicken sandwich craving. “Girls are hornier than guys.”

Jungkook remembers it so clearly. 

He had chuckled, had harbored this feeling of contentment, of belonging, with his best friend beside him, talking about the most mundane things. “No way,” he had said. He had only broken up with Haerim last month; his first girlfriend, his first heartbreak, all in his first year of college. So he wasn’t particularly bothered with women at the moment, and he probably wouldn’t be for a long time. He quite liked this life of solitude, the peaceful waves brought upon by the comfort of being alone, the occasional break in the water when Taehyung or Namjoon checked in on him. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, had always been concerned with women. A furious nod, huge eyes. “Dude, I swear,” he had exclaimed, and then had launched into a full feature recapture of how horny his then-girlfriend always was. Jungkook had simply listened— it’s what he does best —and nodded along when Taehyung continued his silly ramblings. 

He can still remember his thought process. 

Of course girls are horny. But Jungkook doubts they’re as horny as him or any of the guys he knew. Speaking for himself, Jungkook knows his sex drive is too high; too high for someone who’s only lost his virginity earlier that year. 

Haerim had once told him he asked for too much. And Jungkook understood, really; she was his first, and maybe he got a little too excited in his conquest to try everything, a conquest she wasn’t too keen on joining. “Do you even like me?” she had asked the night they broke up. “Or do you just want to have sex?”

Both, he remembers thinking, but that thought had felt like the wrong answer to give her. Her words had made him squirm, had made him feel so small. Was he asking her for too much? Was Jungkook too much— a handful for her to deal with? Jungkook’s love language had always been physical touch. He thought she understood that. 

They parted ways in the most mature way possible. A simple break-up, no hard feelings. Jungkook felt terrible. He had pushed her too far, had asked for too much. They aren’t as horny as guys, he remembers thinking. Or at least, not as horny as Jungkook. 

In the end, Jungkook remembers politely disagreeing with Taehyung on the matter. 

Until now, nearly four years later, with your hands circling his bare waist. 

He’d just finished nailing you into the mattress not even ten minutes ago, had fucked his cock into you until you were screaming so loud your neighbor had banged on your shared wall. Your lips are soft against his shoulder, the prettiest little giggle slipping past them. It’s pitch black outside, your room enveloped in shadows, but the warmth you press against his back is akin to that of the sun’s; Jungkook can’t think of a more fitting comparison. “I was thinking,” you purr, voice like warm honey down his throat. It makes him melt, has his eyes fluttering shut as your hands trace feathery lines against the waistband of his boxers. 

“That’s not good,” he manages to murmur, trapping your hand over his belly button. You make this sound, something between a satisfied hum and a moan; Jungkook wants nothing more than to spread your legs far apart and lick you down the middle. You shuffle closer behind him. He can feel your tits against his back, the hardened nub of your nipples. 

But it appears Jungkook isn’t the only one interested in nipples tonight. 

“The clamps,” you whisper, voice nearly lost under the thrum of the air conditioning, the steady beat of his heart in his chest. 

And in that moment, Jungkook truly understands what Taehyung had meant that night. 

They sting, terribly so, make him feel like someone is going to rip his nipples out of his chest at any moment. But at the same time, they make his toes curl, make Jungkook grind his teeth together in a feeble attempt to dismiss the pleasure. 

On top of that, the look on your face when Jungkook leans over you, the thin metal chain of the nipple clamps touching your chin, is enough to fuel his solo sessions for years to come. “Oh,” you gasp, trembling hand reaching up for the glittering chain. 

Jungkook hisses at the tug, accidentally bucks forward into the warm cradle between your legs. It makes you whimper, hand on his shoulder, the other holding onto the cruel device on his chest. “Fuck,” he bites, brows furrowed together as he glares down at you. 

“S- So pretty,” you slur, delirious. Jungkook’s not even inside of you, just has his cock resting on your hip. He thinks there might be a droplet of drool clinging to your lips. “Jungkook,” you breathe, finally lifting the other hand to his chest, thumb caressing the pretty gold clamp that is squeezing the life out of his nipple. It feels so good, and Jungkook is so embarrassed. 

You let him in soon enough, eyes trained on his flushed chest as he sinks into you. You’re still so loose, so wet and tender from the fucking he gave you earlier, from the two orgasms from before. He can’t comprehend how you’re still asking for more, capable of more, after he had spit in your mouth, bent you like a pretzel, and all but consumed your entire being in his earlier lust. 

He reaches the hilt and you tug at Jungkook’s clamps, make his chest jerk forward in surprise. “Fuck!” he chokes, hand on the back of your thigh around him. “Don’t f- fucking do that,” he begs, but it feels so good and you’re so entranced, he hardly thinks you hear him. 

It’s like you’re stuck in a daze, tiny mouth opening to release the sweetest little moans, eyes scarily trained on his chest. It’s like you don’t see him, don’t see Jungkook right before you, and for some reason… he adores the feeling. “Look at me,” he whispers, testing the waters. 

You spare him a glance, a supportive smile, and then it’s back to staring at his nipples. 

It makes Jungkook awfully hard. 

In a weird, roundabout sort of way, it’s like he’s being used. Like he’s nothing but a pawn in your lustful schemes, just a visual stimulus to help get you off; in short, it’s a teensy bit degrading. Dismissive. Whatever you want to call it. 

His dick twitches at the thought. 

And, like always, you’re in perfect step with him. Another tug at the chain, another moan torn from his lips. “So pretty for me,” you croon. It’s his line, you know it’s always been his line. Jungkook pushes deeper into you, but aside from a sinful cry, it doesn’t deter you. A wicked grin crosses your features, hand crawling around his neck to tangle in his locks again. “Tits all pink,” you shiver, tapping the pad of a finger against his nipple. Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head, bucks forward suddenly. 

“N- Not pretty,” he growls, pushing you down deeper against the sheets, like maybe they’ll swallow you up and he’ll be saved from your lewd ways. “You’re pretty.”

You chuckle, and then contradict the sweet tone of your voice with a harsh tug against his clamps. Jungkook all but howls, pistons into you until he feels your cervix kiss his tip, call him forward, practically beg for him to fill you whole. “Prettiest boy,” you whimper, tracing his swollen nipple with your finger as if it’ll soothe the prickling sensations that shoot down his spine, makes him rut deeper into you. 

Jungkook wants to cum so badly, wants to spill his seed down your insides until it paints every wall, kisses every inch, until it’s physically impossible for you to not be pregnant. 

But the worst thing is, Jungkook is so terribly spent from the early events of that night, that the mere thought of coming again sounds like it would be painful. Of course, Jungkook immediately realizes the hypocrisy in his statement— he frequently makes you come various times in one night, sometimes in the span of a few minutes —but he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of this— this— overstimulation. 

Your walls squeeze around him, your fingers playfully tugging at the chain in intervals until Jungkook’s back arches forward, hips grinding against your quivering opening. “Cum inside,” you pant, curling one finger around the wretched contraption that seems intent on killing him slowly. He groans, hips snapping at your offer. He wants to so badly, but his toes curl, stomach tightens almost ominously. “Maybe if you do it a second time I’ll get p—“

“Shut up,” he begs, gasping for breath. You manage to laugh through a moan, harshly yanking your fist towards you in a motion that nearly has him crashing down on top of you. “I can’t—“ he shudders, forearms trembling. 

“You can,” you encourage, ankles locking together at the base of his spine. His every being feels overwhelmed, head like TV static. His dick throbs, practically begs for another orgasm that Jungkook fears will tear him apart, leave him a boneless pile of limbs for days. And his chest— “look, Jungkook,” you purr, pinching the already tortured nub between your fingers, “look at your fucking tits” —feels like heaven. 

It only takes a few more rushed thrusts, your stuttering moans like music to his ears, and a particularly brutal pull of the clamps on his chest, before Jungkook is bursting. And it’s painful, just as he thought, makes him release the most airy, fluttery whine. It’s so embarrassing, and frankly surprising, how high his voice can get, but it makes you beam beneath him. “Oh, such a good boy,” you coo, catching him in your arms when he slumps forward, chest against yours. 

He’s as boneless as he predicted, jaw twitching as he tries to gather himself into an acceptable state again. “Fuck you,” he groans, hips jerking with the after shocks of such a stimulated orgasm. 

You laugh, carding your hands through his hair. “You were made to wear cute things like that,” you mumble, lips pressed against his temple. 

Before he can speak (not that he knows what he’d say), you’re tugging him back by his hair, looking like you’ll eat him alive. He wants you to. “The cuffs,” you murmur, nose knocking against his. “Let’s try those on you next.” 

You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. 

But Jungkook is the same. You match him so well, fill the gaps when he’s too shy, lay yourself out when he needs more. 

(“You ask for too much,” Haerim had confessed, staring him down from the doorway of his dormitory. The room had always felt small, but today it feels miniature. Like the walls are closing in on him; he can’t breathe. “I don’t think anyone in this world can keep you satisfied, Jeon Jungkook.”)

Your heel knocks against the back of his thigh, and he is suddenly made aware of the trembling lips of your cunt around his cock, still so wet— still so horny. “Again?” you ask so sweetly, fingers dancing across his back. 

Jungkook shivers. “Again.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[brutal-nemesis]

Flameo, Hotman

Some people wanted to see the “Castys trapped in an incinerator” that I drew here, so enjoy! I more put him in a crematory (like for burning corpses) but same effect (●'◡'●)

Masterlist

Ingredients: immolation/burns, minor gore associated with that (including some implied eye gore)

How come he always ended up getting kidnapped? He hadn’t done anything to piss anyone off recently, as far as he could remember, and yet he’d been yanked into a shady back alley and knocked out before he had a chance to figure out what the hell was even happening. He was coming back to now, blindfolded with his wrists tied behind his back. But hey, he wasn’t gagged.

“Hello? You there, asshole?” Castys called. Fuck, wherever he was, it smelled like smoke and burned shit, like his face was right in the remains of a campfire. But it didn’t feel like he was laying on the ground outside...he sat up, promptly banging his head on something metal above him. He cursed, curling up on his side as his head throbbed. Once it died down a bit, he felt around with his feet. It seemed like he was in some sort of box, like, like...a coffin. H-he’d never heard of a metal coffin, though, and-

“Looks like you’re awake, huh?” Someone spoke somewhere above him-well, behind him...above his head? He could hear them clearly, so this box must have a hole in it somewhere. 

“Yeah good morning what do you want from me?” Castys asked flatly, hoping it was something he didn’t actually care about.

They huffed. “Straight to the point. I can respect that. Well, you see,” he heard a faint rustling, “I don’t really want you, per se, but a certain…friend of yours.” Castys stiffened, and he heard a faint laugh. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t. I’ve got a lot of friends, you know, and-” something slammed into the metal above him, cutting him off.

“Don’t play dumb with me; you know exactly who I’m talking about, and you’d better tell me where I can find him or I’ll make you regret it.”

“Please, do your worst. I already regret so many damn things so I don’t think another one on the pile will do much to me, to be honest,” Castys mused, wiggling against his bonds slightly.

“Your choice,” the person said, and Castys heard something metal slam, like a door being closed. If he hadn’t been trapped before, he was now, but it’s not like it was a huge deal, they weren’t going to just leave him for forever or bury him alive or something, they wanted results, right?

Yes, yes they did.

Castys screamed as he was suddenly engulfed in flames, his whole body burning as he writhed in pain, his vision filling with white as the blindfold burned away, but soon enough he couldn’t see at all, couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel, and then…

It was still warm, no, hot, he was already burning again, no no no-he flailed around desperately, but there was nothing but solid, burning metal all around him, even though he was free of the ropes now he was still trapped, still-

The door above the top of his head swung open, his captor staring at him through a metal grate. He craned his neck to try and see them, but it was difficult given how he couldn’t exactly position himself to face the opening. “Well,” they mused, “are you going to tell me where he is, or do you want to be burned to death again?”

“He lives on the corner of You Can Get Fucked Avenu-”

The door slammed shut again, and the fire returned, burning so much hotter than the metal surrounding him had been. Castys howled and thrashed, hoping that if he could hold out long enough they’d just give up, or maybe that-that he’d come-he’d come save him again-just...just this once...please…

“Tell me how to find him.”

“Have you checked up that huge asshole of yours-”

He didn’t know how many more times he could watch his skin blacken and peel away.

“Got anything to say?”

“You should come in here and join me, it’s fun.”

He couldn’t fucking breathe-

“Well?”

“I wish I had a well. Full of water.”

The smell was almost as unbearable as the agony-

“How many more times am I going to have to do this, I wonder?”

“S-six. Sixty nine.”

No no the agony was everything- 

“Is he really worth this much to you?”

“Y-yes.”

The only thing he was getting used to was the sound of his screams- 

“Ready to talk?”

“P-please...just...let me rest a moment-don’t-”

He was cracking he was cracking his skin was cracking or was it just- 

“I could do this all day, you know.”

“I-no. No I can’t-I can’t tell-” 

T-there was something wet on his face and it wasn’t tears-

“Will you tell me now?”

“N-Wait!” he cried as the door started to close once more. He-he didn’t want to betray him, no, no, he was...it was the closest he’d been to someone in centuries, but-but he couldn’t do this anymore...he’d understand, right? He...even if he didn’t…anything was better than this. With shaking hands, he wiped some of the gore from his face.

“I-I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you just, please, no more.”

After he’d talked, they dragged him out of that box, really just a hole in the wall, chaining him up in a cell before leaving him alone in the blissful cold. Castys curled up, shivering, the minor burns he’d gotten from the hot metal still throbbing. H-he was fucking pathetic he shouldn’t have broken down so quickly he shouldn’t have but it was too late and now he was going to see hurt in those eyes because he’d betrayed him he’d sold out his best friend all because he couldn’t handle a little fire-

And then he was there, next to him, chains on his wrists and a slave collar around his neck, and those eyes were just as sad as he’d thought they’d be.

“C-Castys, you-what did they do to you why did you-” he was shaking his head as he looked him over, taking in the grimy layers of burned fat that coated his skin, the awful smell, the sludge on his cheeks from-from-

“I-it doesn’t matter I shouldn’t have-I-I couldn’t do it anymore I’m sorry I’m so sorry!” Castys wailed, not daring to touch his friend with his filthy, traitorous-

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Castys, please, just-” he grabbed him and pulled him close before Castys could protest. “Did...did they burn you?” he whispered in horror. Castys couldn’t bring himself to say it, nodding into his friend’s shoulder. He shook his head in disbelief. “You...I’m not worth that, Castys.”

“You’re right,” Castys hesitantly hugged him back, “you’re worth more.”

But I couldn’t even give you that much.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg

[dixonsmonroe]

Pieces of History

Summary: Bucky’s hesitant about going on a date to the Smithsonian, but being with you makes it a lot easier.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

word count: 1,200

author’s note: thank you to @cherry-season for this request! it was nice to write a cute date fic again <3 hope this is what you had in mind!

warnings: none, just a nostalgic bucky and some fluff!

The museum was bustling with people, more so now that school was back in session. A large group of middle school kids being led by an enthusiastic tour guide, a frustrated teacher, and two very bored looking chaperones passed by you. You always loved coming here on days like today. 

Bucky tried to hide it, but you could tell he was a little taken aback when you brought up a museum date to the Smithsonian at breakfast this morning. You both had the day off and you wanted to do something you didn’t normally do together. You really hadn’t thought about it, just brought it up as a casual suggestion, then realized that maybe he didn’t want to go to a museum with a whole exhibit about the man he used to be and his best friend that he used to do everything with. You scrambled and said you could go to any museum, it didn’t have to be that one, but when he saw the excitement on your face at the first mention of it, he insisted it was fine.

As you walked up the stairs to the door, you held his hand and squeezed it. If he was being honest, it wasn’t as nerve racking since he was here with you. You loved history, and watching you get excited about it was one of his favorite things.

You both bought tickets and walked through the museum, past families with children, admiring the history. You marveled at the air and space exhibit, and spent a good deal of time in the Amelia Earhart section. 

You ended up in front of the entrance to the Captain America exhibit. It was full of excited kids enamored with their favorite superheroes. 

You looked up at him as he scanned the crowd of people. “Good?”

He looked at you and nodded. “Good.”

You walked up to the Howling Commandos display, all of their suits lined up with their portraits on the wall. You grinned as you looked up at his picture.

“You’ve always been so handsome,” you said, knowing he was blushing beside you.

“I don’t know, I was kind of a nerd back then,” he chuckled, though you could hear a sadness in his voice. An aching for the younger version of himself, void of the horrors he experienced for decades.

You scoffed playfully. “You’re still a nerd. And I would have fallen in love with that guy in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” he smirked at you. 

“Don’t think Steve hasn’t told me about what a ladies man you were,” you nudged him. You walked through the exhibit, both of you taking it all in. 

You’d read about Captain America and his brave band of soldiers as a kid growing up in school, and you always found it fascinating. The stories of heroics, of patriotism, of tragedy. Reading through your textbooks in school, you may have even had a small crush on Sergeant James Barnes before you ever met him.

You got to the videos of Bucky and Steve and the rest of the Commandos in their camp. There was one of Bucky and Steve laughing together, like they didn’t have a care in the world. Bucky looked so young, so carefree. 

You looked at your Bucky beside you, who was watching the video with a small curve of his lips. He didn’t notice you looking at him; you knew this was him genuinely remembering this moment, and holding it to himself as if the years of misery he went through never happened. This was a man happily reminiscing on memories of him and his best friend. It was the most content you’d seen him in a while. There was a certain calm that came over him, you could see it on his face. 

You heard a small voice behind you then, whispering, “Mom, it’s Bucky!”

You both turned and looked at the kid, whose mother had an apologetic look on her face.

“Sorry, he’s just a really big fan,” she said.

“No worries,” Bucky smiled.

“Can I have your autograph?” the kid asked Bucky confidently.

“Spencer--” his mother warned.

“Of course,” Bucky nodded, kneeling down and signing the poster of the Commandos that he handed to Bucky. 

“Thanks!” the kid said excitedly, and his mother mouthed a ‘thank you,’ with an appreciative smile before walking away.

You smiled up at Bucky, watching how he beamed after them. You knew even after all this time of freedom, he still wasn’t used to being looked at as a hero. You made your way through the rest of the exhibit, coming across another picture of him with a blurb detailing his younger years, further solidifying him as the hero he was.

You nudged him. “Y’know, the army’s lucky I didn’t know you back then.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”

“I would’ve stolen you away, wouldn’t have let ‘em have you,” you shrugged.

He laughed and put his arm around your shoulders. “If I had to put money on you or the US military, I’d put it on you.”

You smiled. “Damn right.”

You stopped into the gift shop afterwards, looking at knick knacks that were far too expensive, when you saw a small banner with the Howling Commandos logo on it. You looked at him and smiled brightly.

“Come on, I’m a history buff, this is perfect for my apartment,” you said.

“That the only reason you want it?” 

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

He kissed you and smiled. “Let me get it for you.”

“Babe, you don’t have to—“

He waved it off and headed toward the counter. After he paid, and the teenager at the cash register tried to hide the excitement at the fact that he was selling the Bucky Barnes a piece of memorabilia, you stepped outside into the crisp autumn air.

“You hungry?” he asked, interlacing metal fingers with yours.

“I am,” you replied, and you decided to get food from the cafe next door to the museum. You took your lunch to go and sat in a park nearby while you ate.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” you said, taking a sip of your iced tea.

“Thank you for taking me,” he replied. “I haven’t been here since…”

He took a deep breath and sighed. You lifted his left hand to your lips and nodded at him to go on.

“Since I was in hiding,” he said. “After I pulled Steve out of the Potomac. I hid out for a while in DC, and I came here, just trying to remember as much as I could.”

“Did it help?”

He nodded. “I started keeping a journal, and things slowly started coming back to me. Coming here with you now, though—it’s different. I feel like I can breathe.”

You smiled wide at that, leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He smiled against your lips, and placed a small kiss on your forehead when you went to pull away.

“I love you,” you said. 

“I love you too, doll,” he replied.

Later on, back at your place, you didn’t miss the proud grin on his face when you hung your new banner over the couch in the living room, visible to anyone who came into the apartment.

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2,362

I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.

Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!

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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new. 

"Now remember, say it with me," 

"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.

You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set. 

"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked

Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying, 

"There's always a time for everything. Now go on." 

The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.

"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up

You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat. 

Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go. 

"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it

 "Let's get started, shall we?" 

Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought. 

"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."

Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew. 

After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem." 

You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm. 

Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off. 

"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"

"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.

"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands

"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"

With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.

"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up

She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment. 

"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her. 

You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.

A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.

"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?" 

“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”

Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.

“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”

The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.

“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”

You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?

It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you. 

"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin

"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times." 

"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you

Henry Cavill.

Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.

"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter

"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"

"But?"

Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.

You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.

"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."

Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.

“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter

"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers

How many times were you going to blush during this interview?

"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You will watch it though, right?" 

"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart

Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.

“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar

By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.

But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.

The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.

So, the timing was just perfect.

The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:

“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”

“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”

Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.

“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”

“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you

You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”

Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”

“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach

You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”

You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.

“What if what?” 

Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.

“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”

Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.

“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”

It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.

“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest

There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.

“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms

“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one

“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”

“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees

“Oh, Christ.”

Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’

“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”

Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.

“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in

“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”

More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.

You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged

If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.

You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.

When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.

“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword

You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact

Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.

You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”

Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.

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You can find the second part here!