#it's just me screaming into the void and doing my best to write for nothing

[hyunebunx]

just realised the only people who read my works and bother to say anything are like 3 of my moots 🙂

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[wemustgatekeepwooyoung]

Crystal clear

synopsis: After trying to comfort him through his sadness for quite a while now you and your best friend ,Jung Wooyoung, let all your sentiments towards one another finally be heard and act on your sexual tension.

Genre: Romance, a bit of angst*, fluff, smut

Pairing: Best friend (non idol) Jung Wooyoung x Fem Reader

Word Count: 4,3k

Content/ warnings: *mentions of Wooyoung’s (made up) post-breakup depressive phase, very sentimental confession (they’re so deeply in love) ,switch wooyoung/fem reader (mostly dom!wooyoung and sub!reader), oral sex(f receiving), orgasm denial,riding, edging, sort of praise kink, dirty talk, conversation mid sex (loooooots of teasing from Woo), pet names (love, dove, darling, pretty…), creampie (use dat condom my loves <3) , aftercare, overall containing both sweet and spicy content to (hopefully) have you fully satisfied.

Author’s notes: I really enjoyed writing this fic tbh. I was never really into writing smut, so tell me how you find it. Sorry for any grammar or vocabulary mistakes, english isn’t my first language </3. Tell me if I missed anything important on the ‘content/warnings’ section!!! I hope you enjoy it as it’s my first time posting :P. ANYWAY, THANKS FOR READING, or if you haven’t read it yet and you intend to, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT AND THAT I MEET YOUR EXPECTATIONS WELL!!! <3

Wooyoung’s been finding sadness irresistible since he broke up with his girlfriend three months ago. You’ve been trying to find ways to comfort him the best you can but nothing seems to be enough. He keeps saying that it’s not that he misses her, he just misses the feeling of being in love, as his feelings for his ex have been dead for months now.

He would always go hunting for that spark in her but couldn’t do it any longer . He knew the case was all figured out and there was nothing more to do than to push forward and cross the finish line.

So that’s what he did and that’s what lead him, your hyperactively-flirty best friend, to the realisation that he never got over you.

You and him clicked right away when you first met. Although that happened, objectively speaking, it can’t be helped with ‘fresh’ acquaintanships that fear is the most prevalent feeling. So, neither Woo nor you spoke of that matter that you both shared in your heart.

Whatever the occasion, happy or sad, he’d always come to you first to make public. He knew you’d always keep a secret or have the reaction that he’d be expecting. In conclusion, he knew he could always count on you and that you’d be there no matter what. So, of course, when that sickening void started to grow inside him, he knew which door to knock.

You two have been living together since he first came to you after his breakup and have been taking great care of each other. The rest of the boys in your group (Hoongjoong, Seongwha, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, San and Jongho) keep giving you weird looks and suspect a confession that will soon take place. They’ve always knew, it’s only you and him that chose to be blind and lost too much time not being together-together already.

Now, you’re just getting back to your lovely apartment right after a really tiring day at work. You love the walk that makes up the distance ,from the office where you work as a secretary, to your house. But today was not a day to relax and enjoy the small things, so even this small rode to your home feels too much.

You put on your AirPods and blasted your favorite playlist that seemed to go by quickly and unrecognized. You’re over here feeling sad for not being able to feel your favorite songs in the slightest, when otherwise you’d be screaming each lyric with amiability.

When you finally reached your doorstep and took a step to the entryway to take your shoes off, you got all your other senses eliminated by the one your nose provided you with. You suddenly did not feel tired at all and all you did was try to figure out what that smell was that made you almost forget your name out of hunger.

The smell lead you smoothly in your apartment and straight to the kitchen. You didn’t even take the time to change into your pijamas or even take off your coat for starters.

“I was about to call you! Did they change your shift schedule again?”

All he did was ask you a simple question. Why did you stutter Y/N? Maybe because of how effortlessly pretty your best friend looks at the moment.

He’s dressed in a black open sleeve t-shirt that compliments his toned veiny arms so well and under that, he’s wearing a grey tracksuit. On top of those, he’s also wearing your dark red apron that your mum had gifted you when you first rented the apartment.

“N-no, I was just disposed to finish extra work till tomorrow morning”

“I see. Did you manage to finish it?” he asked you again as he was untying the red clothing that hugged his beautifully built core.

“Yes I did, I’m too much of a perfectionist to not have been able to finish it on time”

“That’s my girl!” he said and playfully pushed your shoulder

“Whatcha cookin’ at this hour?”

“Oh, this? I made some soup.“

“Is it for me perhaps?”

“No. It’s for my best friend.”

“Oh yeah? San’s coming over?”

“No, she’s working late and I want her to eat something to keep her warm during the night. Y’know it’s pretty cold outside. She’ll be so tired when she gets home that she might even forget to take her coat off!” he playfully put on a play to enlighten your tense mood from working too hard and to remind you to get properly undressed

You laughed and walked over to your coatstand where you placed your coat apathetically.

“OH MY DEAR Y/N YOU’RE BACK” he said and rushed over to you, hugging your waist tightly

“Play’s over?”

“I just wanted to find out if you’d take your coat off or intended to sleep with it so i’d take it off of you.”

Was he jokingly flirting again or was he genuinely scared that you’d sleep with it? What the fuck? He’s cooking you a meal at 2 a.m, he’s back to being a flirty-hyperactive comedian AND he seems to be… Excited. You haven’t seen him being him for over a month now, three months to be exact, but it just feels so natural and soft that it calms you down. Now, ‘desperately bored and tired Wooyoung’ is long gone in your head, like he never even existed to begin with.

You chuckled after his words and he looked at you all weirded out. You caressed his arm and back hugged him as he was stirring the soup with the ladle.

“Are you okay little one?”

“I’m better than okay. Are YOU okay?”

“I’m just fine” he said proudly and smiled. “It’s ready! Go take a shower and get changed, your food’s waiting” he stated and started preparing the vital items on your late night dinner table.

After doing as he said, you came back smelling all sweet and sat down right in front of the bowl that contained your meal.

You two are opposites in everything, even in the way you’re sitting right now. He’s energetic while you’re like a bored ass figure, he’s calm and active on excitement while you’re stressed and strategically active, he’s clumsy and a talker while you’re organised and a listener. Though all those small details making you so different from one another, you two match so well like peanut butter and jelly. It’s not everyone’s favourite combination but nobody can deny it’s power.

“Soup’s so good Wooyo” you said almost moaning to the feeling of finally getting to eat something after such a full and tiring day.

“Right? I looked the recipe up, I wanted to make you something well deserved, something special”

And it happened again. All he did was this thoughtful gesture, yet it had your insides start to soften in a way they didn’t just an hour ago when you needed it.

This man brings all your sentiments to the surface and accepts them as they are. He accepts and loves you for exactly the woman you are and that’s something so rare that you can’t help but not want to set aside as you’ve been trying to do for so long.

“What’s messing you up in there?” he asked and pressed his pointer finger lightly on your forehead

“It’s just that you’re so sweetly taking care of me. I’m so happy and glad you’re doing okay again” you confirmed your feelings out loud and he gifted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek

“Thank you for being patient with me and I’m not just making point for this time alone. You’ve always been here and I couldn’t appreciate you more. It’s the least I could do, cook you a meal. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway-“

“What? You found an apartment so quickly?!”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure about it, that’s why I didn’t tell you anything”

“Sure, whatever pleases you” you responded with your heart broken and with actually wanting to hold onto him so that he never leaves your side.

“Are you-“

“Don’t leave me Wooyoung” you surprised yourself by saying that. You’re uncontrollable with this guy, everything seems to come out of you so naturally and that’s because you know he has the biggest soft spot for you. His heart started beating even faster now, after your boldness hit him right into his feelings.

He placed his hand on yours on the table and leaned towards you. Your heart skipped a beat when he stopped right before you and cupped your face.

“I’m not leaving town! I’ll only be two blocks away”

“But you won’t be two meters away”

“Hey, don’t be sad baby, I’ll visit for coffee everyday and we’ll keep in touch of course. You’re never going to lose me anyway, you know I’ll always come back to you”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do silly.”

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

Wow. Wooyoung was really caught off-guard with that one. He tried not to think about it the way he did but his mind was messing with him. He’s so in love with you that he can’t get enough of you. He’s so obsessed that he’s now considering of not leaving at all.

“Of course I will. Go to bed and I’ll be there in a sec” he said as he indeed needed a second to process everything.

Maybe it was time he told you but he didn’t want things to get weird between you two. All he ever wanted was to be with you after all, not just friends nor friends with benefits, just you and him getting to pursue life differently together.

As he approached your reclined body on your bed, you scooched over a bit so that you made up some space for him. He wrapped his hand around your waist and spooned you after covering you both well with the fluffy pink blanket you love so much. The heat forming between your intertwined bodies started to become intense and it could not be ignored any longer. So, you both simultaneously acted on it.

“So-“ you both said, sharing the same exact thoughts. Chuckles were heard and cute smiles were formed on your faces. He decided to make the first move and speak up.

“Living here with you was something I wanted for quite a while. I wanted to get closer and closer to you and that’s what I still want to do, even after I move out”

“Closer how?”

“Closer in a field that you and I haven’t explored yet.”

“Rightttt…”

“Am I making you uncomfortable dove?”

“No, not at all.”

“Okay then-“

“Go on, I’m quite invested”

“Would you go out with me by any chance?”

“Out as saying ‘out on a date’ ?“

“If it’s a date you want, it’s a date you’ll have.“

“I never said that! I was just asking to clarify what you meant” you blushed

“So you don’t want to go on a date with me?” he made a sad expression, acting dramatic to avoid looking like a fool

“I never said that either” you answered and he raised his head a bit to look at you better with that surprised look he had “I’d like that actually”

He laughed and you started whining at his reaction and hitting him teasingly on his left arm “Why are you laughing at me?! Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s not you love, it’s me. I’m just trying to cope with the fact that we’re having this conversation.”

“I just hope you mean it”

“What do you mean? Why would I not mean it?”

“Because that’s how you are Wooyo! Being flirty is your nature, how could I be sure that you mean it and that it’s not one of your silly jokes again?”

“Well, I see your point but do you really think I’d risk our friendship ,that’s too important to me, to just mess with you?”

“I dunno…” you said and looked away in embarrassment. He has a great point, why would you defy him so directly? Give the poor boy a minute to pursue you, don’t be that self absorbed and ignore his feelings! He’s trying to make a damn confession for fuck’s sake.

“Should I make it clearer?” he asked after holding your jaw and turning it slightly with his fingers so that you’d face him again, eyes gazing at your lips.

“Crystal clear” you commented giving him the consent he was implicitly asking for.

He smiled as he leaned into you, gently pressing his lips on yours and erasing all your doubts at once. His embrace tightened on your waist and the other hand that was holding your jaw moved down to your neck.

You caressed his arm and broke the kiss to look at his face.

“So pretty” you said and he blushed before connecting your foreheads “How’re you feeling?”

“Me? I feel relieved”

“Relieved? I wasn’t expecting that answer”

“I’ve liked you for too long Wooyoung. Why’d you make me wait so long?”

“I got lost in the way it seems”

“I figured so. I never liked that girl with you, I always wanted it to be me.”

“I always wanted it to be you too- Damn you Y/N! How am I supposed not to sleep with you like this every night now?”

“If you find it hard already then you don’t have to live without it. Instead of moving out, move in with me, totally.”

“I guess I might” he replied and went back to kissing you, wanting to taste every bit of you at that moment.

At this point you two are starting to really enjoy your travel at this new field together. Tongues are battling, each trying to assert dominance. You couldn’t take it anymore, his brattiness. Of course he is ,sexually too, a brat! He thinks he can get away with everything.

Unfortunately, that’s not happening, not with you. You got on top of him and pinned his arms above his head, causing a major shock. You broke the kiss again to look at him just to find him checking you out, his eyes focusing on the part where you made your seat.

“Fuck Y/N”

“You love cursing don’t you? Looks like someone’s not acting mannerly enough”

“I’m just- I dunno, you’re full of surprises, you keep surprising me”

“Oh, let me tell you about it” you implied that you can feel how your ‘surprise’ affected him and to be exact, it has affected you too.

Your panties must be soaked and that’s a realisation that just came across your mind.

While you were stuck in that realisation, he took his chance and turned you over, now him being the one that’s on top.

“Not today love” he said and went on to give you neck kisses that you so adored. “Today’s my turn to tell you about it” he added before starting to suck on the smooth skin in your collarbone area.

You completely melted into his way of showing you his love, placing his marks on his and your favourite spots. Your collarbones, your neck, your upper chest and after taking your shirt off… He’s headed for your nipples.

“They’re perfect” he said in an almost high state. He’s so absorbed in the need to touch you that he forgets to breathe.

“Slow down a b-bit…” you managed to let out and he stopped to look at you

“Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay. Can you breathe? You’re scaring me” you said and he laughed before placing a soft kiss on your lips

“You’re just so sweet that it makes me want to confirm it further” he complimented and went back to kissing your core. Lowering and lowering and lowering… Till he met the outline of your bottoms. You tried to help him remove them but he slapped your hands away so that he’d do it himself. That’s so Wooyoung of Wooyoung.

Once he caught a glimpse of your underwear, his tongue instinctively stuck out a bit and he brushed his hair backwards.

“Well well well… I guess you got excited too didn’t you?”

“Stop teasing me like that!”

“C’mon! You know it’s my favourite from past conversations… Won’t you do me the favour?” he said as he traced his fingers up your clothed pussy , then removed your underwear and threw it on the floor with a quick gesture “Let all your excitement out for me baby, I need to hear you” he notified before starting to rub circles on your already aroused clit with his thumb.

His fingers are long and slim so being touched by him feels better than you could ever imagine. You have in fact imagined it, many times. But this, this felt like heaven compared to your own imaginary productions. The combination of him being between your thighs, touching you and not being able to withhold himself has you starting to tremble. Or maybe it’s because his tongue now stole the job from his thumb. Maybe he really did want to find out if you were sweet elsewhere too.

He’s so focused in eating you out that anyone could tell how much he wants to make you feel good. And dare one say, he’s doing a great job…

“I’m almost there-“ you informed in a high pitched voice, back arching a bit, all to be left back only with your lust and full of desperation. No orgasm was brought to the table for you.

“Fuck, Woo why’d you have to-…” you cursed almost crying out in disappointment

“Because… We need to make our first time special, right?” he said and made you turn over, now laying on your stomach while he’s massaging your bare ass. “Wow…” he said and made you laugh through your embarrassment once again.

He laid a smack on both your ass cheeks and you moaned into your pillow, drunk in your own tears from your previous unfulfillment. He then grabbed your hair to get you to stop covering yourself.

“Why’re you hiding from me? If you want me to stop my love then I will.”

You found it confusing how he’s so filthy with his ways but so comforting with his words. It’s the perfect combination you seeked for and it being provided to you from him makes it even more perfect.

“Do I look like I want to stop or hide? I’m completely naked and moaning after my best friend of eight years”

“Hm. Would a friend really make you tremble like that?”

“What do you mean?” you said poorly as he quickly put two fingers inside you and started finger-fucking you

“Am I your friend, Y/N?”

“What do you want to be?” you said, your voice trembling with every quick movement

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about facts. What am I to you?”

“Okay then, I’m neither hiding nor want to stop being fucked by my best friend and boyfriend. Is that what you wanted to hear?” you said after holding onto his arm so he’d stop momentarily for you to make your point

“It’s all I ever wanted to hear” he admitted and you immediately snapped your lips together, needing him now more than you ever have.

Jung Wooyoung, your best friend, is now your boyfriend. After all these years of hiding in your own shell, you can finally let loose and turn all your fantasies into reality.

You continued by getting your hands under his tshirt, caressing his beautifully built body. He then took it off in a quick motion, leaning back a bit making his abs tighten. You took your chance and helped him by clinging onto his grey sweatpants while looking into his eyes.

He took the hint and finally let you do your thing. You removed them and left him with his boxers alone. You slowly pushed him to lay him back on his back while you got on top of him, almost crawling. You took your seat again as you also took the hint earlier that he’d totally love a ride. You passionately rinded on him and all he could do was grab your hips and squeeze them to how he wanted you the most. You’re making him go crazy with how bold you are and that’s a topic that’s getting him really turned on.

He was used to that specific picture of you in his mind being the closed up one, the more morally minded one and the more intelligent kind. It excites him how all these are also seen in sex with you. You seem like you know exactly what you’re doing so he can just give and take the exact pleasure he knows you both need. And even better that it’s you giving him that pleasure. What’s more appealing to him than doing sexual things with his hot and intelligent girlfriend that he loves so much anyway?

“I need you Y/N, please”

“Then go on and have me” you gave him permission and his eyes lit up. He took his chance and removed his underwear. You tried to touch him but he put your hands together behind your back to give you the message that once you’re to have him, you’re to have him submissively and whole. At least that goes for today.

You smiled and lifted your hips a bit to help him enter you. The feeling of being stretched is already overwhelming but him starting to thrust into you right away made you see stars. He has been holding on to this hardly resistible urge of destroying you since you called him your boyfriend, so now, he can finally let loose.

You didn’t even have the chance to process the feeling, you just had it built up on you, or built in you to be more exact.

“So good” you whined

“Did your previous boyfriend fuck you like that?” he asked you, moaning while thrusting into you roughly from below. Even with you on top of him, he’s still the one controlling the tides.

You answered by shaking your head negatively which unfortunately did not sit right with him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it darling”

“N-no!”

“No? Is that the best you’ve got?”

“He never did it that good! N-not like you Wooyoung”

“That’s right, use your words. Tell me how good it feels” he said and let out a breathless moan before laying another smack on your ass while hitting your gummy spot so good.

“R-right there…”

“You’re so beautiful my love” he whispered breathlessly again in your ear before moving his right hand to your neck, chocking you the way you like it.

“Ah, I love it!“ you managed to say all chocked up seconds before Wooyoung attacked your lips.

You bit on his lower lip, something that reflected your hard on erection and your upcoming orgasm.

“Are you close?”

“Yes, please let me cum this time-“ you said, looking just adorable begging for him to let you finally get your pleasure. He laughed and kissed your cheek before placing his hand on your lower stomach, applying just the pressure you needed.

“Tell me what I want to hear then”

“What is it?”

“Use your pretty brain pretty girl”

“G-give me a hint at least!”

“Three words”

You knew exactly why he was making you do this. He wanted to see how fucked up your mind was in this situation you were, fucked so well and so desperate to cum that you were starting to lose it.

“T-three words?”

“Yes baby, tell me”

“C’mon Wooyoung, stop messing with me! You know I love you”

“You love me?”

“Yes!”

“Okay then tell me” he said and slapped your swollen clit to which you of course had a reaction.

You whined and rolled your eyes, your head fell back and trying to balance it made you dizzy.

“I love you Wooyoung. So much!” you accepted your fate and he smiled before uniting your lips again

“I love you too baby. Let’s cum together yeah?” he said and you shook your head, hugging him and kissing his neck as he pounded fast into you while rubbing your clit again with his thumb

His moans started to get louder and his thrusts sloppier. That didn’t last long though because your insides started to squeeze him as you collapsed on top of him. He tightened his grip on your ass as he filled you up so well that it started to drip on the sweaty purple bedsheets you had changed just this morning.

You both took your time to catch your breaths with him still inside you. You stopped hugging him and placed your hands gently on his bare and sweaty chest to look at his beautiful dizzy face.

He let his head fall back and lay against the wall behind him which revealed the unique marks you had painted on his neck some minutes ago.

“You’re even more stunning all fucked up by me” he said and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear

“So after glow’s a real thing?”

“You’re glowing all the time what do you mean?”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t do a good job?”

“Well, I think the results prove that I did a pretty good job”

“So confident!”

“That was always my specialty”

“I know. And now, as a punishment that you didn’t even let me touch you, you Jung Wooyoung will change the bedsheets”

“If you were so desperate to suck my dick you should’ve just asked for it”

“Are you kidding me? You were the one that pinned my hands behind my back and didn’t even give me the chance to!”

“I know I know I’m just messing with you. I love seeing you flustered, you know that. I’ll change the sheets but first… Do you know what I’ll do first?”

“Please tell me about it, I’m so interested!” you mocked him and he started to tickle you before he grabbed and held you bridal-style

“First I’ll get you all cleaned up” he said, carried you to the bathroom and gently placed you in the bathtub before going in behind you himself “We’ve got our first official date as a couple tomorrow after all, don’t we?” he implied and started setting up the right temperature for your relaxing aftercare showering session.

[nrdmssgs]

CONGRATS ON 500, you 100% deserve it and more !!! 🥹🌷💐 i just love your art and work so, so much!!

if it's alright, can i request 37 with könig? my husband, i need him !!!! 😮‍💨

Masterlist List of prompts What? An author, who practically inspired me to come here and start writing? An author, who gifted me the biggest brainrot for many sides of König? Sends me a request? Orla, I am such a huge fan!!!!!! I love your style, love your bold, picturesque oneshots, love your eagerness to discover so many themes. I owe you so much, you don't have an idea. I made a text and a picture in case, you don't like the text. Sorry, I'm fangirling and I'm nervous)

Does it make you nervous, when I stare?

Pairing: KonigxReader Warning: this is NSFW. And König here is not the shyest guy on Earth, because this is colonel edition.

Oh, the things, you would let this man do to you. Unspeakable, ungodly things. Things so unhinged, you wouldn't mention them even after a few rounds of shots with your besties.

One sight of his fingers tapping the tabletop during the debriefing, and you can't think about anything other than the salty taste on your lips, left by his thumb. It would take him just one word, or maybe even one glance to make you cover his index and middle finger in saliva, as he would slide them against your tongue. You'd be so good - standing on your knees for him, sucking his fingers so eagerly, fighting your own gag reflex.

One glance thrown at his forearms, tightly hugged by black cloth, and you imagine his massive hands picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. You'd freeze, learn to hold your breath for as long as he wants, until you'd feel only the brush of his mouth against yours and the grumble of his impatience when he pushes in. The intoxicating thickness of his tongue against yours would be a taste that would rocket to your core and melt you from the inside, as he'd hover over you, pushing apart your legs with the brush of his massive thighs between yours. He'd take and take and take. And how obediently will you keep giving him anything, he demands.

Looking at his hips is a serious danger. Slick outlines of his muscles, his fingers brushing up and down his lap, black holster straps spanning his thigh make you go absolutely feral. You'd be standing still, feeling his low growl with your entire body. You'd hold your hands high against the wall and arch your back, so he can have access to every single part of your body. You'd accept him reminding you, with each his hungry thrust, where your place is: wrapped in his arms while he rubs you senseless, his teeth on your neck leaving you on the edge of pain.

All that fantasies you could hide from König, if it wasn't for his eyes: deep cold silver light, sparkling with interest, every time, he caught you staring. You couldn't make yourself look away: his stare was a predatory gaze, luring you closer, easing you into a thought of coming closer, stripping you of any bit of self-preservation instinct. Yes, when he caught your eyes - König took his time, ravishing in a sight of your desperate blush, letting go of you and turning his gaze away only when you were literally choking with shame, trying to drive away the visions that he awakened in your mind. This man was to become the end of you, and every next day it was only harder to fight that feeling off.

So when you hear, he is expanding his team, it feels only natural to surrender and use this ghostly opportunity to get closer to him. You know, your chance to join the team, his inner circle, is almost zero. By no means, you can be considered a poor professional, but the Colonel is a legend here. He doesn't want just 'the best' he wants those outstanding even from the best. And your personnel files scream 'just good' at best. But you have a motivation, the one so strong and specific, that maybe only you here have. Your obsession with König is pushing you to the darkest void, you were too scared to come to earlier - the threshold of his office.

"Come in." His voice at it finest: not too loud, not too harsh, all honey and slumber. When he wants, he can be mesmerizing as a siren.

You clench your hand into a fist behind your back, thus trying to calm the trembling that is rolling up to your knees.

"Just don't look him in the eyes, and it would be ok. Hands, yes, you can bear looking at his hands and not lose it. Afterward you can have whatever you want - your toys, your fingers, your cushions... Just look at his hands, breathe deep, and it all will be alright." Your inner monologue is interrupted only when he is pulling a folder from your hands, obviously tired of waiting for you to finally give it to him.

"What do we have he- oh..." Your breath hitches, you practically hear an uncanny smile spreading across his face.

"Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel?*" König sounds amused. And although you don't entirely understand, what he said - you get the message and nod, not daring to look him in the eyes.

"Very good. I could use such a treasure..." He flips the pages and clicks his tongue when some of your personal indicators impress him. And before you manage to exhale, he adds: "But I'll need to test you. See, if you are... ready."

"Anything, Colonel!" You blurt it out and immediately shut your mouth, realizing that it might sound ambivalent. But that's enough to make König raise from his seat and lead you from offices to firing range.

You blame it upon a rush of blood to your head, but you pass his test with flying colors. Physical tests, advanced weaponry, strategy, even sparing with König leaves you alive and just a little trembling.

The thing, that breaks you, is not even a test or a check. It happens late in the evening, when you two end up in the locker room. You just need to remove one layer of the tactical gear you were using, you'll still have your shirt and jeans on. But you stop, paralyzed, seeing out of the corner of your eye how König leans against the wall, arms folded on his chest. His gaze, you feel his gaze: lingering and hungry.

"What's wrong, treasure? Are you hurt?" You are afraid to answer and reveal your trembling voice, so you just shake your head.

"You don't know, how to loosen those straps? Want me to help you?" Again: you only shake your head, hiding your gaze.

"Is it my eyes, that make you that nervous, Schatzi*?" His accent thickens, voice drops low, as he steps closer.

You instinctively lean back, but hit the wall behind you. He takes one more step towards you and places his hand between the wall and the back of your head, so that you don't hurt yourself occasionally. But very soon, he guides you to finally look up at him. There it is: silver light, that you can never look away from, once you saw it.

"Talk to me. There can be no secrets inside my team." His voice is soft once again, but you know, it is a trap. And you fall for it.

"I just get distracted. Don't worry, Colonel, I'll learn to ignore it or to live quietly with it. Sorry..." Your voice, your entire body, is trembling.

"There's nothing to apologize for." Something sparkles deep inside his eyes. He moves his veil up, so you can see his lips, and leans right to your ear. "In fact, how about you come at the same time to my office tomorrow, treasure? After all, you've proven, you can be so good for me... It's my turn to convince you, I too can be good for you, Schatzi."

Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel? - Little one wants in my game?

Schatzi - little treasure

[buckyalpine]

Here is a list of things that make me mad in no particular order. Angry ranting. Pls ignore this, I'm just screaming into the void. These example apply to very specific situations I've encountered with people who are perfectly capable of doing better.

People who lack common sense. Social awareness. Common courtesy. Saying "Oh my God, I'd never do that" when they've never been even close to said situation but they're now experts on how they'd act while sitting on their pristine Thoroughbred horse, sipping on English tea with their pink so high it may as well be in their nose.

People who say "Well I wouldn't care if it happened to me" or "I'm just being honest" when you point out something they did/said.

When autocorrect/spellcheck decides it cannot for the life of it figure out what you're trying to spell OR it gives you suggestions for every word under the sun except the one you want. All you did was leave out a single letter with the rest of it spelled perfectly and spellcheck decides to go into a coma. So you fix the mistake and the little squiggly red line goes away. Fuck you.

Gnats. WTF is you're problem. I've Googled this shit cause I want to know why tf you can't just fly straight, why do you have to buzz all over the damn place near my head of all places.

Flies. Same thing as above. Why tf can't you just fly straight. WHY NEAR MY EAR. You have the entire world and you decided my room is the place to be? And now we're both miserable because you keep hitting yourself against the window after noticing your grave mistake. I leave the door wide open but you want to keep body slamming the glass.

Giving me life advice on something you know nothing about.

People who don't love their pets. Yeah, you take care of them but you do it as a chore and then complain about it. Those little fur babies deserve it all, give them the best or don't have pets at all.

Holier than thou attitude.

People who laugh at those who are visibly upset and tell them they're being too sensitive.

Allergies. IDK Why tf my body acts surprised as hell every single spring. It's just fucking pollen. Why are you trying to fight it. Do you understand that in your brilliant plan to try and fight the little evaders you actually make me want to end it all because my nose is itching and my eyes are watering and I can't breathe. Food allergies are another level of bullshit. I'll never forget the day this one girl tells me she wished she had allergies? Like it makes you special, mf what??? She was being serious too.

Thin, straight, fine black hair. Can't do anything with it. It doesn't hold hairstyles, doesn't curly, gets heavy as soon as you use any product and 90% of the time it just looks like Snape cosplay. Ask me how I know

Parents who buy their very young children shoes with laces. This is inconvenient for all of us. why tf would you do this when Velcro exists. Your 4 year old doesn't need laces when they have no clue how to even eat cheese with their crackers, mf why did you buy this shoe for them?!

Bananas. Hate them with a burning passion. The smell. The texture. I hate the peel is left out and about like it isn't making the entire room smell. Don't even get me started on banana breath. (Keep in mind this is not me saying I think they're gross. I wish I liked them because they're a super convenient snack and very healthy)

People who lie and say you can't taste the banana in a smoothie. Yes, I can. You always can. You can have 1000lbs of any fruits and that single banana will still stand out.

People who don't understand mental illness/ act ignorantly to those suffering.

Big companies who ask you to donate to stuff. You're going to use this as a tax write off, stfu.

Inflation.

People who laugh at others for not knowing something. Maybe that thing had 0 relevance to their life. Maybe they learned about that because they were taught something else. Either way, how is it funny.

People who laugh at those learning a new language. You're the fucking worst. They are LEARNING. Let them get used to the pronunciation, let them get accustomed to sentence structures, let them make mistakes without being embarrassed. You're the embarrassing one cackling you're damn ass off while they're trying to do something new. You're discouraging them from wanting to continue because you feel the need to be an asshole.

People who make everything a serious debate/conversation.

People who steal. Not out of necessity but just because they can. I'll never forget overhearing this group of kids in my high school bragging and laughing their asses off over how much candy they stole from other kids. They also stole phones. These were not troubled kids mind you, they were doing this for shits and giggles.

Eczema. So fucking itchy, why can't skin just act right. It feels awful, looks awful and just comes and goes as it pleases.

People who clown you for who you find attractive. Why. If I find this person attractive, what in the ever loving flying fuck does it have to do with you. It's just so unnecessarily rude. I don't even get how its funny or why you find it okay to call someone ugly as if this is something they personally have control over.

I'm going to add more to this list.

[wandering-winchesters]

Don't Push Your Luck

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2,707

Summary: After a bad argument with Dean, over the reader putting herself in danger, another hunt goes wrong. Will there be time to reveal the feelings that lie beneath the anger?

Trigger Warnings: SPN level violence, injuries and blood. Mentions of punching a wall, anger

A/N: It has been terribly long since I have posted and I am very sorry! Life has been utterly crazy and I have not had much time or motivation to write. Please let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Arguing with Dean was one of the most frustrating things in the entire world, once he was fixated on something it was nearly impossible to change his perspective on it. Which is how we wound up here, my chest heaving with exertion as I tried my best to calm my nerves. I can barely stop my body from trembling, anger pulsating through me enough to exhibit a physical response. My voice shakes when I try to speak, causing me to stop and take a few deeps breaths, unwilling to appear weak in front of my best friends brother. 

“Just because you have been doing this longer than I have, doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do, Dean.” I respond, my voice as even and low as I can manage. A sharp contrast to moments before, when our raised voices carried throughout the entirety of the bunker. Rippling through the numerous rooms and corridors, alerting Sam to our disagreement. He had made an appearance, carefully placing himself between the two of us, but off to the side, just incase anything got out of hand. Not that it would get physical, but Dean and I have a track record of saying things that we shouldn’t when anger is raging between us. 

“I never claimed I could tell you what to do, Y/N. But I know that you have been reckless, ignorant and foolish the last few times we have gone on a hunt. You throw yourself into places that you shouldn’t be, you take risks that aren’t necessary. And you’ve just been an absolute idiot!” He yells, his fist slamming into the wall beside him. I flinch, shocked by his sudden movement, his words stinging as they rush over my ears. I take a few steps away from him, crossing my arms across my chest and steeling my nerves, willing the tears that were pricking my eyes to fade. 

“You really think you know everything, huh.” I reply, my voice shaky and thick with emotion, a single tear falls from my red rimmed eyes. I hurriedly brush it away and in that moment, I can see Dean break. His shoulders release and his face falls slightly, he runs a hand over his face letting a sigh of frustration pass his lips. 

“Maybe you two should call a truce, it seems like enough damage has been done.” Sam chimes in quietly as he shoots Dean a look of disapproval, his earlier words hanging heavy in the tension filled air. Without a word, I turn on my heel, seeking refuge in my room. I can hear their voices as I flee, distant murmurs of a conversation that I have no desire to take part in. 

By the time I close the door to my room, tears are flowing freely. I stifle a sob, my hands coming up to cover my mouth, as more course through my body. Reckless, ignorant, foolish and idiotic. All descriptors that Dean knew would strike a nerve, insecurities I have voiced to him in the past. Things that I had shared with Sam and Dean on one of our many late night dinner conversations, shared between the four walls of a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere. I could see the regret spreading through his features the moment the words left his lips, but there was nothing he could do to take them back. He spoke them into existence and there they would stay, a permanent stain on my subconscious. I let myself fall into the comfort of my bed, tension escaping my body. What was left was a void. My lungs that had been so full of air to scream into his face now merely pumped enough oxygen for a sigh to leave my lips. The argument was spurred on by a recent incident on a hunt from a few days back, the tension had been simmering, threatening to boil over all of that time. For whatever reason, today was the day where it became too much. The heat grew and the water overflowed. I had been jolted out of my thoughts by the slamming of the front door to the bunker, followed by Deans booming voice. Even though I knew it was coming, that didn’t make it any easier. 

There is a knock on my door, quiet yet enough to alert me to their presence. I ignore it, unwilling to budge from my place underneath the sheets on my bed. The desire to speak with either one of the Winchester men tonight was at a resounding nonexistent. My silence is not accepted, however, another knock follows. There are a few seconds of silence before Sam’s voice travels through the door. “Y/N, it’s me. I just wanted to check on you, talk for a bit.” He sounds upset, concern flowing through his tone. 

“I’m fine Sam, I don’t want to talk.” I call back, willing him to listen and not press me for more social interaction than I have energy. 

“Okay, you know where I am if you need anything. Goodnight, Y/N.” I respond in turn and wait for him to leave, confirmation comes in the form of his footsteps retreating down the hallway. 

My sleep that night is filled with numerous nightmares, each one worse than the last. A spattering of different conclusions to the hunt that had spurred on the argument with Dean. I had pushed him out of the way of danger, throwing myself into the path instead. Something that I had done for both of the boys numerous times, a fact that I was not ashamed of in the slightest. They were needed and had jobs to do. These nightmares were all of the numerous ways that the night could have ended if I hadn’t put myself in the path of death. Dean’s body, slumped against the wall, his final breath being drawn as Sam and I stood helpless in the room. Sam replacing Dean in the path of the bullet and both of them meeting their demise. Over and over, the nightmare repeated, changing slightly each time. No matter how many times I woke up, every time I returned to sleep it continued. 

I pull myself into a sitting position, the last nightmare had been the worst. I had been helpless and forced to watch Dean be tortured by the monster of man that had us cornered. I had watched him bleed, watched Dean beg for him to spare Sam and myself. I jump as my door swings open, soft barefoot steps resounding through the otherwise silent bunker. My eyes land on Dean, disheveled and tired. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, the handle of the Bowie knife that he often uses, clutched between his fingers. I blink, staring back at him, hurt still fresh in my mind. 

“I-uh, you screamed my name. So, I had to make sure you were okay.” He mutters, shame present throughout his features. The hand that isn’t holding his knife, comes up and rubs the back of his neck, before falling back to his side. 

“I’m fine, just a dream. Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep, we have to be up early tomorrow.” I respond, my voice even. I am unwilling to show him any weakness or emotion, the fight still hanging fresh between us. He nods, but hesitates in the doorway to my bedroom. I can see that he is searching for the words and I pray he doesn’t find them, I can’t hear them tonight. He nods once again, murmurs a goodnight and shuts my door behind him. 

—

I manage to make it through the next morning with zero interaction with the older Winchester, both of them are distracted by preparations for the next hunt. No words are exchanged at all until we are an hour into the drive, the radio on but low as Dean focuses on the road ahead of us. I pretend to be oblivious to his glances through the rear view mirror, unwilling to be the first to speak. But I notice. I notice the way his eyes land on me, scanning my face for any hint of emotion. I notice the way he has destroyed his bottom lip, by the constant anxious biting. I notice the way his hair isn’t combed into place like it normally is, how his appearance in general is disheveled. He didn’t sleep last night. Good, he deserves to be upset by the things that he said to me. 

“Y/N?” Sam calls, and I turn to look at him. The look on his face leads me to realize that he had been talking to me and I had not heard him. 

“Hmm? What’s up?” I ask, giving him a small sheepish smile. His eyes are questioning but he doesn’t speak on it, simply repeating his earlier statement. “According to Bobby, he thinks we are dealing with a Harpy.” I groan, letting my head fall back against the seat of the Impala. A harpy hunt is one of my least favorite, something I have only encountered a couple of times before, but I have the scars to prove it. 

“You can stay behind at the motel, if you prefer.” Dean chimes in, “Sam and I can handle it.” His words catch me off guard, it was an offer that was by no means wanted. 

“I can handle myself, thanks. It’s not like this is the first hunt I am participating in, Winchester.” I bite back, my voice cold. Sam shakes his head, in a manner that displays the smile tugging at his lips, even though I can’t see it. 

"I am aware that you've done this a hundred times Y/N, but maybe a little caution wouldn't hurt.” Dean says, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel of the impala. 

“Don’t push your luck, Winchester.” I mutter, returning to looking out the window of the Impala. 

Unfortunately, Deans words would ring true. The anger and desperation I had to prove him wrong, land me in a very sticky situation. I threw caution to the wind and wound up paying for it ten fold.

—

“Dammit,” I cuss, a gasp leaving my lips as I struggle to pull myself into a sitting position. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, screams of protest are rising from deep within me. The hard wood wall of the old house provides support as I slump against it, my hands cradle my abdomen, pressed tightly against the gaping wound, that was caused by a violent stabbing moments earlier. I listen carefully, searching for any sign of the boys. 

In the fight with the Harpies, we had gotten separated and I was unsure of where they were, or if they were still alive. A wave of pain rushes over me and I let out a groan, blinking rapidly to try to clear my field of vision that is rapidly fading around me. “Y/N?! Where are you?” Dean yells, his voice traveling through the house, panic evident. I try my best to draw enough oxygen into my lungs to respond, but it is a losing battle. My lungs are on fire, along with the rest of my body. My ribcage is a vice and I cannot inhale enough to begin to speak, let alone yell. All I can do, is sit and wait. Hope that he finds me in time. Frantic footsteps fill my ears, barely heard over the rushing of blood through my head. A small rush of relief floods my body as Dean rounds the corner, our eyes meet and he crumples. His face is defeated ever so briefly, before he puts on a brave front, his eyes scanning my body an explanation of the amount of blood surrounding me. He’s at my side In record time, his hands gently prying mine away. He surveys the situation quickly, before pressing the fabric of his flannel against my stomach. A motion that pulls a guttural scream from my lips, I beg him to stop but he doesn’t, his lips pull into a tight smile and he brushes the sweat soaked hair from my forehead. 

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, searching around frantically for something, anything to add to the flannel that he already has pressed against my body. I glance down and quickly realize, its even worse than I could have imagined. The material he had pressed against me moments before, was already soaked red. 

“No, look at me. Right here.” He says, gesturing for me to focus on his eyes and not the blood soaked flannel. 

“Guess you were right after all,” I whisper, a small laugh that quickly turns to a cough leaving my lips. Once I catch my breath, I continue. “ I was being reckless.”

“Stop, don’t think like that. I am so sorry for what I said, but we can’t focus on that right now sweetheart, we gotta get you out of here.” Dean says, his eyes growing sadder with every passing moment. “You think you can hold pressure on this while I carry you? Can you do that for me?” The desperation in his voice pains me, I know I don’t have the strength to do what he asks, but I nod anyways. I know that if he doesn’t do everything he can, he will always blame himself for my death. So I will try, I’ll try for him. I grab onto the flannel and pull it against me with all of the strength that I possess, as he carefully picks me up. His attempts to avoid causing me pain are useless, every step and motion causes a wave of nausea and dizziness to overtake me, but I do my best to not let him see. 

“Dean, I have to tell you now, just incase,” I stop myself, unable to finish the what if scenario that is playing in my head, outloud. “Dean, I love you, always.” 

“Hush, I’m not confessing my feelings to you until you are better.” Dean says, his breath catching in his throat as he focuses on each step he takes. 

I can’t tell you how we made it to the Impala. My eyes are closed for the majority of the journey, only opening when Dean demands that I look at him. His voice begs me to stay with him, stay awake. Stay Alive. 

—

“She lost so much blood, what if- if she doesn’t wake up?” I can feel a hand grasping my own, gently stroking my skin. Dean’s voice is there, he’s talking to someone. Warmth is covering my skin. It is almost peaceful, until it is interrupted by my nerves screaming out in protest. A groan leaves my lips and the hand on my own jerks away.

“Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?” It’s Dean again, I can feel the mattress shift underneath me as he sits on it, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek. 

“Sweetheart is new, what happened to idiot?” I whisper, my throat dry and my tongue faltering to enunciate the words. 

“You almost died and I couldn’t bear that thought, that’s what happened.” Dean says, his hand brushing over my skin. I open my eyes, squinting at the sunlight pouring in through the open blind. It takes me a second to realize that I am in fact in a motel and not the bunker.

“Who knew you had feelings, Winchester, thought you were all tough and no mush.” I say, moving to push myself into a sitting position, but quickly regretting that and abandoning the motion. He laughs, a clear and full sound. One that lifted my spirits ever so slightly. 

“It’s no fun making you miserable, Y/N, not when you are already miserable. So I need you to get better, okay?” He says, pressing a very unexpected, but desired kiss against my forehead.

“Now who’s being the idiot?” I meet his gaze and smirk. He shakes his head, still smiling at me. He presses another kiss to my forehead, the breath he lets out through his nose rushing over my skin. “I love you, too, Y/N. Always have, always will.” 

Tag List: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

[bangtanintotheroom]

Fic Announcement: Fill the Void (M)

I don't wanna decide things for myself, on my own

Finally, for the first time, I'm alone

You call me, havin' good times with a bad boy

Seems I've got a choice to make

Be my voice and I choose you to fill the void

• Pairing: Professional Dom!Hyunjin x Client!(F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Sex Worker!AU, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words: ?

• Summary: He’s always there to help you forget your troubles, even if it’s just for a few hours.

• Warnings/themes (subject to change for final draft): sex work, swearing, drinking, discussion of safe words and consent, giving up control, dom!Hyunjin, sub!Y/N, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, praise, use of sex toys, dirty talk, protected sex, spanking, aftercare

• Playlist: 🎧

• Song Inspo: Fill the Void - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp (Spotify | Soundcloud)

• Notes: It's funny how months ago I said I couldn't see myself writing for Hyunjin and now look at me 🥲🥟 Just a quick little idea I came up with in the last few days and I've been trucking through writing it a stark contrast to my other fics as of late 🫣! It's also been a hot minute since I've written anything rough, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty.

• Taglist: @jimilter @joontied @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @sugalaritae2 @crisle19 @codeinebelle @kookprada @saweetspoiled @effielumiere @m1sss1mp

If you'd like to get tagged for the final draft, let me know! YOU MUST BE OVER 18 AND HAVE IT VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG!

Moodboard and teaser below the cut!

“Y/N?”

A familiar voice brought you to attention, straightening up in your seat at the tall and lean figure now standing in front of you as your stomach flipped in on itself.

“Hyunjin.”

The man smiled down at you, the red lights illuminating and shadowing the right places on his handsome face.

“Welcome back.”

Now you returned the expression, cheeks heating up despite your best efforts. He always seemed to have this effect on you.

“It’s good to be back.”

Hyunjin’s magnetic smile only widened, holding a hand out towards you. Without exchanging any more words, you took it, marveling at the warmth and delicacy of it. The opposite of what it could really do behind closed doors.

He helped you up and led you out of the waiting room and back into the hall. You saw the other patrons staring at the two of you out of the corners of your eyes, expressions ranging from encouragement to curiosity. Probably wondering what the enticing worker and the client in her wrinkled pantsuit were going to get up to.

Nothing was said as you and him walked past closed doors, the occasional sounds soaking through them. A moan. A groan or two. Some laughter. A once in a while scream of pleasure. Or pain.

The first couple of visits, you’d jump and blink owlishly at the rooms, your gaping broken by the gentle tug Hyunjin would give your hand. You were used to these noises by now; it was nothing but background music to you.

Finally, a familiar door ended up in your vision. The dark wood with the red chain wrapped around the handle had your stomach knotting in titillation. Just like always.

Hyunjin opened it and motioned you to enter first, waiting until you stepped halfway in to shut it behind him.

His designated room fit the aesthetic of the establishment, yet it had its own style that catered to its owner. Black made up most of the decor, with the occasional blocks of white and garnished by gold. With the large bed in the middle, decorated with multiple throw pillows, any passerby would assume this was a normal person’s bedroom.

But the oddly-shaped chair looming in the corner hinted at what occurred in here other than sleeping and relaxing.

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[mothwingwritings]

Dreaming Of World's End

Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Waaah it has been so long!!! I apologize for the absence! I have been working on and doing all kinds of stuff (fics included) as of late so I did one of my classic dip outs there for a moment, but I’m here! Just plunking away as usual. :)

With Dawntrail coming up I have been focusing a big chunk of my free time on trying to beat Endwalker (I am slow in all things, video games included lul) because I wanna be there with the herd with Dawntrail comes out!!! I have no idea if I am gonna make it, but I am doing the best I can to catch up!!!

That being said: Zenos brainrot propelled this fic from my brain, to my computer, to you. Was I and am I also writing a bunch of other things? Yes. Is this the only thing I could momentarily focus on writing-wise because I have been compromised by my love for this fucked up man? Also yes. I’m sorry. It’s bad. I was already obsessed with him in Stormblood and now that I am deep within the clutches of the Endwalker msq… It’s over for me guys. It was a good run, but rip to me. My WOL may be playing hard to get, but I’m sure not. Zenos if you are reading this, you can just have me.

So without further ado, here is a Zenos fic I have been working on! My love for him aside, I think Zenos is a super fun character to write for, so I really hope I did him some justice! This is a reader insert fic, but you are the Warrior of Light in it so feel free to insert your OC’s and WOL if you like! I tried to keep the reader neutral, but I will say it’s def aimed more at a female reader/character and if you are a shorter race like a Lala it will probs be a little wonky, so my apologies. Also, I am about half way? A little over half way? through the Endwalker main story, so potential spoilers up to that point. This fic takes place sometime between post Shadowbringers and the first part of Endwalker.

Nothing overly explicit, but due to the nature of this fic it is 18+ please!

Thank you so much for reading!!! <3 I truly hope you enjoyed!

WARNINGS: Unhealthy relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), intense infatuation, implied noncon, noncon mentions,  a lot of fighting and mentions of fighting, mentions of death and the end of the world, unwanted touching, Endwalker spoilers.

It was always the same dream.

Amaurot. The end times. Death, destruction, chaos. Streets tainted by endless misery, stifling woe permeating the air as people ran about frantically, picked off left and right by horrendous, nightmarish monsters. Screams pierced the air as the remaining survivors struggled in vain, desperate to escape a fate that they could not avoid.

Just as any other night, he would watch it all unfold with cold indifference. Walking through the crumbling, fire charred lanes of this shell of a once bustling city, he would take it all in at a leisurely pace, maintaining a stride no more rushed than if he were taking a pleasant stroll. His features would be void of distress or malaise, his face a blank slate as he paraded down roads lined with bodies and devastation.

Zenos could say it was because he had grown accustomed to it, have the same dream each night and the grisly scenario that laid in wait past your closed eyes was bound to no longer shock you. But that would be a lie, as this ghastly nightmare had never truthfully bothered him to begin with. He simply didn’t care, not about the dying planet, nor its inhabitants that suffered the same fate. This scene from another time, this moment from a faraway place that no longer existed, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any form of remorse for the phantoms left to wallow helplessly in this endless, hellish loop, even if his own star was on track to share the same fate.

An echo of the past was just that, to dwell on it was a fool’s errand.

But tonight, it was not the end of times that greeted him when he closed his eyes. In its place stood an immaculate hall appearing to belong to some manner of grandiose castle. Pristine and orderly, he sat upon a large throne questionably positioned in the middle of the walkway, facing so that a vast expanse of the hall was clearly within his view.

Had he been here before? It was hard to say, having been trapped by palace walls most of his life they all blurred together after a certain point. Perhaps this wasn’t even a castle, but some manner of fortress. The varying weapons displayed neatly along the surrounding walls certainly made it feel as if this was more than just a mere abode for royalty to live out their boringly opulent lives, perhaps it doubled as an armory of sorts? Every sword, spear, and battle axe looked immaculately cared for; their blades so sharp simply looking at them made you feel as if you had been sliced.

His time to dwell upon the mystery of his surroundings was quick to dissipate however, as he felt a familiar presence approach him from behind. He remained still when a delicate hand was placed upon him, crawling from his arm to slide unhurriedly across his broad shoulders. The caress occupied the entirety of his thoughts, manicured nails scratching lightly against his flesh as they raked across his back, pressing just hard enough that they left a pleasant burn in their wake.

“There you are,” a deceptively alluring voice purred in his ear. Phantom arms draped themselves loosely over his shoulders, their fingers moving to trace a swirling pattern upon his chest. Goosebumps littered his arms at the brief contact. “Were you hiding from me?”

A small smile spread across his lips. What elation merely hearing your voice caused.

Were he not already aware of it, he would recognize he was in a dream from this interaction alone. You, only you, would be welcomed to touch him this way. But even were he to offer invitation, you would never do so of your own free will. There was a mixture of pride and revulsion that kept your interactions with him void of skinship, save for the fleeting contact that occurred when you were locked in combat.

His motivations, the way he chose to experience the world, your differing values and opinions. Like night and day, they barred you from reciprocating his feelings towards you. Because of this, he was left to revel in your touch exclusively in the realm of dreams.

“On the contrary,” he hummed, “you have been the one to keep me waiting.”

A low chuckle reverberated from your chest, sending a shiver down his spine. You rose to your full height, pulling away slowly until you disconnected from him completely. Even if the contact was nothing more than an attempt at provocation, he missed your touch the moment you detached yourself.

“Well then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord,” you enunciated his title tauntingly, the playful lilt in your voice exciting him further. He heard you take several languid steps away from him before you spoke once more. “That is, if you even have a heart that can offer forgiveness.”

Zenos rose to his feet, turning to finally face you. Your back greeted him as you stared up at the myriad of weaponry covering the back wall, the hand that was moments ago atop his chest now gracefully running across the hilt of a long sword. Your fingers lingered on the handle, moving as if you were going to grip it, but never completing the task.

Zenos smiled. You were toying with him.

“You jest,” he spoke, taking a measured step your way, “if anyone has intimate knowledge of the existence of my heart and whom it beats for, it is you.”

Your posture stiffened in acknowledgment of the insinuation, yet you refused to turn his way.

“Is that so,” your voice seemed distant, as if you were unwilling to accept the burden of the intense desire he held for you, “Forgive me, I must have misread the situation. Due to the nature of how our meetings always end, I figured you only ever wanted one thing from me, and that is my blood.”

A low chuckle rumbled from within him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. For all that you were, all the skills and knowledge that you held, you could certainly be dense.

“I desire all you have to offer,” he answered plainly, “Your fury and malice, your rage and rancor, your disdain and desire,” he continued to approach you, each step slow and deliberate as he closed in on your staunch form. “Your love and affection are no different. I want to consume your every thought, just as you consume mine. I want you to taste me in the air you breathe and feel me crawling under your skin, even when I am far removed from your presence.”

He stopped several steps away from you, keeping his distance but lingering close enough that it bordered on intrusive. He raised his hand calmly, reaching out to grab a stray lock of your hair between his fingers. He gingerly caressed the silky strands, smirking when he noted that even such slight contact caused a shudder to lurch your otherwise statuesque form.

“You can play the fool all you want, but you cannot hide the fact that the same beast that dwells in me is also within you. They call out, craving each other to the point of madness.  We need each other. This dance we share must continue in perpetuity, lest our fierce yearning for each other’s presence turn us to savages incapable of rational thought, driven to the point of committing mass, undiscriminating destruction as a means to appease ourselves.”

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss atop the tendrils in his hand, before letting it slip from his grasp completely. “And you would do anything to divert that misfortune, would you not hero?”

Your shoulders began to quiver, shaken by the threat of violence he could and would commit simply to be by your side.  An impatient sigh escaped his lips, “So come, what better way is there to quench each other’s thirst and prevent calamity than through a mutually beneficial rendezvous? Surely even someone as set in their way as you are is in agreeance.”

“I was under the assumption that you planned on battling me until the world was torn asunder, regardless of if I entertain your perversions or not,” Your voice dripped with disdain as you spat your response at him, “If that is the case, pray tell why I should not cut you down where you stand? Why must the dance continue if the outcome is all the same?”

Your words made the smile on his face grow, stretching his lips to an unnatural degree. Taking another step forward, he leaned in until his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. Placing his hands firmly atop your shoulders, he gave a tight squeeze as he responded.

“Because we share one destiny,” he pressed his cheek flush against your head, inhaling deeply before releasing it in a slow, shaky sigh, “even now as you try so hard to deny me, our fate is intertwined, my warrior. You cannot escape me, and I have no desire to escape you. The dismantling of this world as a result of our conquest is all but inevitable and I welcome it with open arms.”

“I won’t let the world crumble to ash.” Your bold declaration was spoken as if it were fact, the conviction in your voice sending a surge of wanton excitement coursing through his veins. “Say and do as you like, the future you seek will never come to pass.”

Oh, how he adored you.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “You can try and stop me, but you cannot escape what has been predestined.”

During the course of the conversation, your hand had had traveled to the base of an axe, your fingers wrapping around it to grasp the handle in a constricting hold. All of the anger that had been bubbling up reflected in the whites of your knuckles, the tremor of your hand becoming more apparent as your composure slipped further and further. The cool demeanor you initially donned had completely shifted, overridden by the immense agitation his presence was inviting.

The axe was ripped swiftly from the wall, lacking fluidity. There was no care for keeping the wall in tact or making sure all the other weapons that surrounded it stayed in their spot. You ripped it down with one great tug, bits of stone and surrounding armaments clattering noisily into a massive steel heap on the ground as you finally spun around to face him. Zenos had seconds to react as you swung down in a wide arc, the finely sharpened blade slicing easily through the decorative tiling that coated the floor, decimating the ground where he once stood.

“There we are,” Zenos growled in anticipation, sizing you up with a bloodthirsty grin, “you are a vision to behold when you let your ferocity consume you.”

You deigned to answer him, your icy countenance his only response as you straightened your posture, considering your next move.  Your distaste for him was clear as you hefted your axe from the ground, dust settling around you as it was freed with a mighty yank. Weapon in hand, you came for him in a relentless torrent, striking at him in a flurry of breakneck swings. In the ensuing madness, he grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach-a sword that was more ornate that functional, but it would serve its purpose for the time being.

The enmity increased as he reciprocated your attacks. Parrying each blow with a steady hand, he responded to your blows with calculated strikes of his own, expertly countering your aggression. The air around the two of you had become electric, charged with hostility and fervor as you hacked away at each other time and time again.

Though frantic, the assault was far from inelegant. Each swing of your axe and swipe of his blade was an orchestrated maneuver befitting the couple who performed them. It was as beautiful as it was fierce, a true force of nature. To an untrained eye the activity would appear as nothing more than a blur of chaos, annihilating all that was in its wake. But to Zenos, a man who had dedicated himself to your study, it was a sight that made his heart ache.

He was witnessing a glorious preamble, a promise forged in battle between himself and his righteous and powerful hero, the only person with whom he ever felt a true connection. This battle, amongst all of its other perks, gave him purpose.

Fighting you, he felt alive. To be the sole receiver of all your ire, your discontent, your undivided attention… it was like a dream. He realized this encounter was most likely just that, a conjuring of your presence from his sleep addled mind, a side effect of his constant ruminations of you. You already occupied each of his waking thoughts, it only made sense that having you visit in his dreams would soon follow.

Be that as it may, the knowledge that this moment lived solely in his mind did little to dissuade his desire to get lost in it, to get lost in you.  If he couldn’t have you in the waking world, his dreams would have to suffice, at least for the time being. Besides, there were things he could accomplish in his dreams that would never be plausible elsewhere, moments of intimacy he could forge that would never present a chance of happening in reality.

A particularly rough blow sent Zenos reeling. The sword knocked from his hand scattered just out of reach, his body lurching to an abrupt stop as he collided with rubble that had piled up behind him. A quick glance your way revealed a small smirk ghosting your lips, a hint of satisfaction shining through your hostility. He could see the assurance reflected in your eyes, a swell of pride over the victory you would soon be relishing.

Zenos mirrored your glee, pleased you were having as much fun as he was.

As you hoisted your axe high, thoroughly preoccupied with your pending achievement, Zenos took the moment to strike. Launching himself from the ground, he rammed his body against yours, hitting you hard and fast. The speed at which he closed the gap astounded you as much as the collision had, causing the axe to topple from your hands, skittering out of your reach. A pained grunt escaped your lips as you collided with the ground, Zenos following suit atop you. His hand cradled the back of your head as you fell, catching hold before it could crack against the stony floor. It would do no good to have you suffer injury and pass out now, not as things were about to get truly interesting.

Positioning himself atop your fallen form, his body caged you in as you lay beneath him, panting and exhausted. Splayed amongst the rubble, your confusion morphed into a look of annoyance as you realized your situation had drastically changed. Your success had been stolen from you and now the thief had you cornered, trapped right where he wanted.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you in this moment,” Zenos spoke between his own labored breaths, pressing into you ever further as his face hovered inches from your own, “Disheveled and feral, transformed by your bloodlust, you have never been more breathtaking.”

“I’m not like you,” you retorted sharply, “I don’t revel in such acts of savagery.”

Zenos chuckled, “And yet you seemed quite delighted moments ago when you were convinced victory was within your grasp.” You frowned as his hand found purchase on your chin, gripping it in a tight pinch to keep your focus fixed his way, “But here you are now, bested and at my mercy.”

You grimaced, “I have yet to lose to you. I refuse to concede defeat.”

In response to your bold declaration, he gave a throaty, booming laugh. How was it that you always knew just what to say to drive him absolutely mad with desire?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Zenos smashed his lips to yours, capturing you in a heated and hungry kiss. Your brain took a moment to comprehend the abrupt action, but as it did you began to struggle against it, thrashing and clawing at him in an effort to create distance.  Zenos remained firm, making it clear that you had expended far more energy than he had, leaving your assault lacking the power needed to stop him. Whines of displeasure snaked from your mouth as his grip tightened on your chin, squeezing so roughly you couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Eagerly seizing the opportunity, he muscled his tongue inside of you, lapping at the inside of your mouth aggressively. He groaned as he savored the taste of you.

When a need for air arose, he pulled back slightly, staring down at you with lidded eyes. Your saliva coated his lips, giving a glossy sheen as they curled into an offputtingly tranquil smile. His hand moved from your chin to drag languidly across your cheek, the brief touch of his rough finger tips sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze wavered the longer you stayed trapped in this awkward position, your eyes brimming with uncertainty. You seemed unsure of where to look, what to do, how to escape. In his wishful thinking, Zenos wondered if perhaps you were even unsure if you truly wanted to escape.

Amongst your numerous charms, Zenos found your enigmatic personality to be one of your most appealing. Being such a virtuous being, your motivations, ambition, and drive were all easy enough to sort out. You are Hydaelyn’s chosen, the Warrior of Light, the people’s champion, and you live up to those titles and more. You are a hero through and through, a source of salvation for those you protect and a complete nightmare for those that offer opposition. There is no doubt that you are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the encounter or situation may be.

And what good hero is without a nemesis? It’s a role the disgraced Prince and betrayer of his kin plays well. In his illustrious life he had gone through the motions, donned many hats, played countless roles, many of which were not of his choosing. But of all his grand titles, your adversary is most certainly his favorite, the only one that gives him any sense of pride. Your existence gave him purpose, and for you alone he kept up the hunt.

But he knew it was different for you. Though cut of the same cloth and driven by destiny to engage him, your feelings did not completely align with his own. You were driven by more than barbarity, more than a duty to save your people and your planet. There was something inside of you, something that made you YOU, that he could never truly know, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

You were his greatest conundrum, a true mystery, and when you look at him as you were now with those eyes that swirled with anger, uncertainty, grief, and something yet unspoken… What was he to do but become a slave to this maddening, consuming attraction?

He gloated about being the victor, but it was clear you would always have the upper hand.

“Get off of me.”

The demand brought him back to the present, sheer determination replacing the conflicting emotions that fought for dominance within you. He could tell by the bite in your voice that your vigor was returning, and given a bit more time and provocation, the battle would gloriously resume.

“Eagar to carry on with our dance, are you?” He responded, an almost teasing lilt to his voice, “Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of defeat at my hands?

“I already told you, you didn’t defeat me,” you glowered, your rage becoming palpable the longer his unwanted presence loomed, “I came here to end this farce and I plan to do just that.”

A beat of silence passed, followed by a sigh. Parting your lips to speak, your voice came out quieter, more desperate than it had previously.

“I wanted to keep this is civil as possible and respect your wishes as best I could, no matter how twisted they may be. But even for your own benefit, you refuse to entertain the notion of making this situation even the slightest bit amicable. You speak of such lofty things as fate and destiny, but all I am witnessing is you causing unnecessary suffering, hiding behind my name to do so.”

For a split second, another flash of uncertainty danced across your features. You bit your bottom lip in vexation, a glimmer lighting your eyes as they swept across his handsome face, “There is more to this world, more to this life, than waiting for its untimely end. To live out your days perpetuating death and blind havoc is no way to exist, it’s a tragedy. Why can’t you see that? Zenos, I-“

As if taken by surprise, you cut your own words short, silencing the previous thought that had been brewing. Zenos felt as if you looked pained, staring at him with pleading eyes, face scrunched up in frustration. Even with all the hate you carried for him, you were still trying to understand him, still clinging to the hope that maybe you could save him too.

Here, on the cusp of annihilation, you were doing all you could to fulfill the role of hero and protect the people that you loved. In order to fulfill that duty, it meant he must be defeated. There could be no other ending, the inexorable conclusion to all of this was always cold and endless death. Whether it would be all of humanities or just his own was still to be determined, but it did little to change the fact that there was no future to plan for, only a violently rapturous and melancholic end.

To be cherished by you, to feel your love as if he were one of your dearest companions… It was a thought not meant to be dwelled on, but one he found hard to completely shake from his head. How would it feel to be earnestly and unequivocally loved by you? Perhaps in another world, another time, your souls would be reborn and given another chance. A fresh beginning to grow together, an opportunity to nurture something more than the misfortune this world had thrust upon you. Maybe in some alternate telling of this tale the two of you were together and happy, with nothing but a bright future awaiting you on the horizon.

But that was simply a foolish daydream. All that he had, all he could hope for, was the here and now.

You sighed again, steeling your resolve with a shake of your head, “Never mind. You have already proven to me mere words cannot move you, so I will save my breath.”

Raising your torso as much as his hold on you would allow, your eyes bore into his, fully accepting the challenge that lay ahead. Though still restrained, there was an aura of dominance that surrounded you. It was a warning to Zenos that your binds were temporary, whether he released you willingly or otherwise was his decision, but regardless the outcome would be the same.

“If it’s the end you want, it’s the end I will bring you,” your soft words clashed with the look of malice reflected in your eyes, your breath fanning his face as your noses nearly touched. For an instant your eyes darted to his lips, and Zenos wondered if it would be you to instigate the kiss this time.

“I will fulfill my role. I will be your end and your salvation.”

Your words pierced him, the proclamation sending sparks of excitement to course through him, igniting his soul. His whole body burned for you, intense and consuming, his need for you was beginning to show itself in ways beyond his control. Pressing his hips flush between your spread legs, he made his intentions known to you, a shiver wracking his body when you released a small gasp of surprise.

Clutching the remaining shreds of his sanity, he grunted as you writhed against his growing arousal, pulling your body up towards him until he had engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“Enough time has been wasted,” he snarled into your neck, his chest rumbling as his grip on you tightened, “let us deliver a ruin unto ourselves so extraordinary, so beautiful, that naught will remain but the scattered fragments of this forsaken world.”

Loosening his grip, he pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste, yet gentle, kiss. Your brow furrowed at his touch, shoulders tensing as you drew yourself back from him, recoiling at the small display of adoration. He found the reaction endearing, even with his intentions laid bare and and his hardened cock pressed firmly against your core, it was the smallest token of his affection that caused you to squirm.

Repugnance, hatred, scorn- whatever you felt for him in this moment, none of it mattered, none of it deterred him. He loved you, and he would make that love known in the only way he knew how, while he still had time to do so.

“This shall be my final gift to you,” he purred into your ear, his grip latching securely to your tunic. With nimble hands he started to pull, exposing yourself to him bit by bit as the fabric turned to tatters in his hands.  “Let us relish it my friend, my warrior, my beloved. Destroy me, and I shall be your devastation in kind. ”

[its-time-to-write]

hello! only if you’re comfortable with writing it of course, could i request a fic where the reader has a really bad day at work and jamie comes over with snacks to watch movies and stuff while giving the reader reassurance?🫶

no pressure ofc!!

-xx<3

Plot? We don’t know her. Thanks for requesting! This helped me put of my slump a little

send for me

“Argh!” You slam the door to your flat in frustration and throw your bag on the floor so hard it bounces. It’s been an absolute shit day. Everything that could possibly have gone wrong, went wrong, and somehow it became your responsibility to fix it. It was like one of those dreams where you can never get where you’re going no matter how fast you run. You always seem to end up going backwards.

But now you’re home and you’re free to scream to the void in peace. You trudge to your room and flop facedown on your bed, shoes and clothes still on, resolving not to move until the sun comes up.

You’re there for maybe ten seconds when your stomach grumbles. Shit.

You groan and roll over. You should probably eat something. Hopefully there are good leftovers in the fridge because you are absolutely not cooking. You remember that you just cleaned everything out yesterday and you’re pretty sure that nothing could make this day worse. 

You pull out your phone to order takeout and see you have a missed text from one Jamie Tartt. 

Double shit.

With the way today’s going, it’s probably a breakup text.

(It’s not, you’re just dramatic.)

What it actually says is, Hey love, how was ur day? ;)

You smile ever so slightly, despite yourself.

You reply with a singular: shitty to which Jamie says, be over in 20.

—

You hear the key turn in your door almost exactly twenty minutes later, and you have not moved from the bed. 

That’s actually not true, you moved once to roll back over onto your stomach.

You can hear Jamie moving around in the kitchen before coming into the bedroom.

You hear his footsteps stop at the foot of your bed. 

“Babe,” he says.

You grunt in response.

“Have you been here the whole fucking time?”

“Jamie Tartt,” you say, face still pressed into your pillow, “you better wipe that goddamn smile off your face before I flip over.”

“How’d you even know I was smiling?” he says defensively, and you don’t need to look at him to know that he still is. You roll over to face him.

Jamie makes what he calls his “empathy face.”

“Aw, babe,” he says. “You didn’t even change out of your work clothes?”

You shake your head, making no effort to get up.

Jamie shakes his head back at you and then, without warning, flops on top of you.

“Jamie!” you shriek, “get off!”

You try to shove him off you, but you swear he wills himself to be heavier.

“Nope,” he says, voice muffled due to the fact that his head is in the crook of your neck.

You wiggle a few times, then give up, succumbing to giggles. Jamie pushes himself up a little bit and grins.

“There it is!” he says. “Fucking best part of me day.” He’s getting up just as fast as he laid down. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, yeah?”

You sit up and let Jamie take off your work clothes and maneuver you into an old t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s been over enough times that he knows where everything is. He can’t resist making a comment about your semi-naked body, one that makes you blush and smack him, while he sticks his tongue out at you. The only way to get rid of that cocky look is to kiss it off his face, so you do. You’re kissing him and he’s sliding his hands up your shirt so you move to take it off but he grabs your hands and says, “Oi!”

You still. “What?”

“Took me forever to get you out of bed, I’ll get you back in it but I brought food. It’s in the kitchen and it’s gettin’ cold.”

You squint at him. “Fine. But after that you’re going to fuck me so good that I’m going to completely forget this fucking awful day.”

Jamie gives you a small salute and says, “Yes boss,” before hauling you over his shoulder and into the kitchen.

—

You’re halfway through the pizza he brought when you say, “Should you be eating this?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. What Roy don’t know won’t kill him.”

You laugh and lapse back into silence.

You both have a few more bites when Jamie asks, “D’you want to talk about it?”

You glare at the slice you’re holding. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Jamie waits expectantly.

“It just fucking sucked,” you say frankly. “Everything went wrong. I had to deal with it. I didn’t get anything done that I needed to, and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to get in trouble for it tomorrow. And I hate that shit. None of it was my fault but fucking Matt from HR is going to tell everyone that it was because he fucking hates me.”

Jamie nods. “Fuck Matt from HR,” he says. 

You shrug. “I just want to, I don’t know, reset my fucking heart rate to a normal pace. It’s all batshit crazy because I’m so stressed. And tired. And I’ve sworn more today than I have in my entire fucking life.”

Jamie laughs at that. “Gonna give Roy a run for his money, ey?” he asks.

“I’ve been thinking about letting my eyebrows go,” you say seriously. “Go for the full look.”

“One’s enough, babe.” Jamie shudders. “Hey, when you’re done, we’re gonna watch a movie.”

You open your mouth to protest but he shushes you. “Don’t want to hear it, this is your one opportunity to make me watch a movie of your choice, no complaints.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Fine, some complaints.”

—

You picked Jamie’s season of Lust Conquers All. Hey, he said minimal complaining. Plus, he adds a nice narrative. He has a lot of things to say about it.

The credits are rolling on episode three, and you and Jamie are sitting on your couch. Well, he’s sitting. You’re laying down with your legs across his lap. He wraps an arm around you waist and pulls you onto his lap for a kiss.

“Babe,” he says between kisses, “did you mean what you said earlier? We can just go to sleep if you want.”

You smile. “Take me to bed Tartt.”

Jamie smiles back then stops. “Wait. Did you mean, like, to sleep or..?”

You roll your eyes. “For sex, Jamie.”

Jamie grins again. “Right, yeah, that’s what I thought, just wanted to be sure.”

You stand up and he follows, letting you pull him to the bedroom.

He says, “Lead the way, boss,” and you tell him you’re pretty sure you can work with that. 

It’s a better ending to the day than you thought it was going to be.

[skepsiss]

Oh you don’t say? Ok, fluffy one shot idea for you. Steve, backstage, when Eddie comes back from his First Ever Packed Show! “They really loved me Stevie!! 🥹🥹” excited and exhilarated and exhausted??

I saw this JUST before I was going to bed xD But I'll reply to it now. (other people feel free to send me things, not just my pal void! Also, go check out their writing). First ever packed show; Eddie was like a firework. His explosion of energy was evident, and the colour that came off of him was like catching wind in a sail. It just urged you forward. It was impossible not to be compelled by Eddie, and that was more than obvious as the roar of a full stadium reached Steve backstage. This wasn't Eddie's first show, but it was the first big league one. The stadium was sold out, and everyone here was screaming for Corroded Coffin. It was wild to think that the four men out there on the stage had come from little-town-nowhere and were now adored by hundreds. It was impossible not to adore Eddie. He knew how to put on a performance, and he knew how to engage the audience in a way that only a true showman could. Steve could never do something like that. He never wanted that much attention on him. He was proud of Eddie though, more proud than he could put into words. The band ran off-stage as the crowd continued to yell, the lights around them dimming as Steve already heard shouts for an encore. It didn't seem to matter how much the people adored Eddie though, because Steve could see that as soon as Eddie reached the wings he was looking around wildly for him. "Steve!" Eddie yelled, spying him against one of the back walls. He had chosen that spot to stay out of the Grips' way but hadn't wanted to go too far and miss the performance. "Present," Steve said, raising a hand and then opening his arms as he saw Eddie beelining it for him. Eddie was in his arms in a flash, throwing all of his weight on Steve as he latched on around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was damp with sweat and Steve couldn't help the involuntary 'ouph' that escaped him from the impact.

"Steve!" Eddie shouted again, pulling back to hold Steve's face in his hands. "Sold out, baby! Sold out! Did you see that? They love us--they freaking love us!" Eddie's smile was so brilliant that Steve was certain he could have lit up the whole solar system if he tried. His eyes were twinkling, and despite how exhausted he looked, there was an unbridled energy that hummed behind his expression. "I saw, I saw---" Steve chuckled, letting himself be manhandled. Eddie was like this after every show. His adrenaline was high, and his lust for life was like nothing else. He loved being famous. He loved performing, and Steve knew that he was meant to do it. Eddie was supposed to wow crowds and put on one of the best shows on the planet. "They're asking for an encore," Eddie said, nose to nose with Steve. His smile hadn't faded at all, and Steve felt the infectiousness of it as he grinned back. "Can't blame 'em," Steve replied with a laugh, holding Eddie around the waist. "You should get out there." "Don't go anywhere," Eddie said quickly, looking over his shoulder at the guys who were already standing in the wings, ready to head back out there. "I'll be right back. I'll---I'll be right back." Eddie kissed him hard on the mouth, and Steve hardly got the chance to kiss back before Eddie was rushing back toward the stage. It was hilarious to watch him stumble over himself and then try to look composed as he walked back out to a cheering crowd. Steve just smiled affectionately and wiped away the flecks of sweat and makeup that Eddie had gotten on his cheeks. This was par for the course, and Steve had to admit that he loved every second of being in Eddie's glow.

[skynight110]

Child Of The Monsters

A monsterverse fic:

You can't remember when it all began. When something changed. Or maybe you could, if you thought deep enough on it. All you knew now though, was that you were alone. Because of them. Because of Him. If only you weren't so young when this all began, perhaps you could have prevented everything; the death of your parents, being one. Being forced to give up your childhood "for the sake of humanity" being another. But alas, nothing could change what has happened, and all you could do now was try and escape this hell that's been built around you, and pray to whatever deity is out there to grace you with luck. Because if they find out, if He finds out.....

The sake of the world, the sake of your life, the sake of every little good thing you've managed to keep, will be at stake.

•••

Hello, hello. I've decided to post my story here on Tumblr just...because lol. You can find it both on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/55869871

Or wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/366621677?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=KnockoutRules

Updates will most likely be posted on these two first, and I'll post when I remember to on here. However, to be up to date I'd suggest reading on either of those platforms.

Like on both of those, here is important information that I insist you glance over before reading:

This story is definitely inspired by Screaming into the Voids "Y/n, Child of the Monsters///Platonic!Yandere!Godzilla/Titans x Child/Teen!Reader" on Quotev, I suggest going and checking it out, however it is incomplete and I'm unsure if the writer is still interested in finishing it. With that out of the way, this will be a "yandere" type story, and will have normal Godzilla movie themes in it such as

- death

- canon-typical violence(cmon, it's godzilla, he's going to end up ripping something in half)

- spoilers for the movies(except gxk, I haven't seen it yet)

and themes I've added in. There will be

- "talking" kaiju, however they don't physically speak to humans, rather its an insight into their thoughts/feelings

- mentions/forms of telepathy

I personally headcanon that mothra can "tap" into others, and while she can't speak fluent, she can send emotions or brief thoughts to others that aren't close to her. Godzilla can do similar things, but it takes more focus for him, and it works better through touch. But it doesn't happen very often.

- some forms of experimentation, both on humans and kaiju

I want to make it clear that there is no romance in this, it's purely platonic.

I've tried to align readers age with how the movies are set in time, so here's a quick guide if any of you get confused:

Reader is born in 2009, they are 5 during the events of 2014.

By the events of Kotm, reader is 10.

Gvk, reader is 12, and this is mostly where the story will take place, and continue onwards.

In GxK, reader is 15.

I also won't be adding in much from the comics because I haven't read them, but there's a chance I'll add in some small things that I've managed to find out.

As for plot family wise, as stated your parents don't appear for too long. They ded. But you will have other family members! For my own sake to make it easier for me I'm gonna make reader related to the Russels; Mark being your uncle and Madison being your cousin, simply because of plot wise it makes it easier for me to use them.

If there are any questions, feel free to comment them, I'll do my best to answer them to best of my ability.

ALSO

Fair warning now, even though I like writing, I lose motivation VERY fast. So if I fall of the face of the earth for a bit, don't be surprised. I have stuff to do in my life too, seeing as I'll be graduating next year and need to get my stuff together. If you're worried that I'll be discontinuing this story, just ask in the comments, I promise I'll answer, later or right away. I'm the kind of writer that will have random spouts of motivation in the middle of the night when I'm tired, or in the middle of the day when I'm busy.

But, I will try my best to commit to this, because I really want to write this to give both myself and everyone who finds this a story with the Big G, because there are so few out there.

[sorrel-leaf-vespers]

More Sitcom AU writing, continued from the previous post! You guys' kind words on the last one meant a lot to me, especially since I haven't been able to share my writing with anyone in a long while, and have straight up never engaged with a community via my craft like this. Thanks for reading!

Clyde had been silent the whole walk. By now, the moon was high in the sky, and the town of Eastridge had been left far behind. Alex’s feet hurt from spending hours walking nonstop through the forest. They were following Clyde, wherever it might have been going.

“I’m assuming we would be getting there much faster if you didn’t have to move at a human’s pace?” Alex finally asked. “Because when we were running there, you were going… really fast.”

“Yeah,” said Clyde. “We’re almost there.”

“So…” Alex stretched. “Veldigun sickness. When will the symptoms set in since that spike was digging into my hand? I’m going to assume the onset might be more rapid because of the prolonged contact. And maybe even more intense.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The intense growl in Clyde’s voice told Alex to drop the subject. It must have felt ashamed or guilty for giving Alex Veldigun sickness. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“To hide.”

“Where, exactly?”

The question answered itself. Clyde pointed through the trees at what looked like an old, dilapidated house. As they got closer, Clyde showed no fear. This place must be safe if that’s the case, Alex figured.

Clyde walked right past the house and toward a nearby barn. It began calling out in a series of shrieks and hisses as it pushed the door open. Nothing responded. “What are you doing?” Alex asked.

“Letting them know we’re here.”

“Friends of yours?” Alex walked into the barn. It was completely dark, other than the light of the moon coming in through the window. “So… what kinds of friends could you-”

A horrid, ear-shattering scream echoed through the barn as something emerged from the darkness. It vaguely resembled a bird, but it was covered in purple and black goo and lacked any legs, just a tail that it slithered along the ground with. It shrieked again and flapped its wings.

“Calm down, Flock. It’s okay.” A second figure approached, this one only about a foot taller than Alex. He was humanoid, but had long, lanky arms covered in stripes like Clyde’s, and a burlap sack over his head. Someone more inexperienced would have considered him a sentient scarecrow, but Alex had enough experience to know that this was another Veldigun. His voice was quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to Clyde’s raspy hiss. “Clyde. Hello.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t expect you to come seeking us out in the middle of the night.”

“It was an emergency.”

The new Veldigun turned to Alex. “You brought a human, huh?”

“I did. That’s Alex.”

“Alex? The Alex Williams you’ve been telling us about?”

“That’s the one.”

“In that case, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex. My name is Simon.” Simon politely bowed to them, then gestured to the bird creature. “That’s the Flock. It’s also a Veldigun, but it was never able to fully move on from its Void state. Forgive it if it looks a little… goopy.”

The Flock perked up at its name and said in a perfect imitation of Simon’s voice, “Hi, Flock. Hi, Flock.”

“Uh… hi?” Alex didn’t understand why Simon was being so friendly. He was a Veldigun who had never met them before. “Has Clyde told you about me?”

“Indeed it has. It’s spoken very highly of you.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey!” Clyde lashed its tail.

Simon let out a small snort. Alex couldn’t tell what he was thinking under that sack. “Regardless,” he said, “I know that Clyde wouldn’t have brought you here without a purpose. What happened?”

Alex told the whole story of that afternoon- their Veldigun research, getting found by the police, the long trek to the barn, all of it. Simon listened attentively, nodding every so often. When Alex finished talking, he turned to look at Clyde. “I see now. You need someplace to hide.”

“Yeah. I figured this was the best place,” said Clyde, crossing its arms. “And there’s another thing you should know… Alex will get Veldigun sickness, since I touched them.”

“It was an accident,” said Alex, jumping to Clyde’s defense.

Simon nodded again. “Alright. We’ll see if we can find any way to make the process more… oh, how do I say this… bearable is how I’ll put it. In the meantime, let’s try to make you comfortable here. If Lankmann is after you, I’ve a feeling you’ll be here a while.”

“Thank you,” said Alex. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s what any good Veldigun would do for an ally.”

The Flock slithered closer, close enough to where Alex could touch it if they wanted. It again started talking in Simon’s voice. “You’re such a good bird. You’re such a good bird. You’re such a good bird.”

Simon chuckled. “That means it likes you.”

For the first time since the police had come knocking, Alex felt genuinely intrigued. Their instinct to write everything down was kicking in. “How does it do that?”

“It’s a master of imitation. My working theory is that it got that ability from consuming birds that live around here. Lots of corvids. Jays, crows, even a raven or two. Those birds possess incredible mimicry capabilities, so I figure they’ve handed that off to the Flock.”

“You seem a lot more comfortable with human speech than Clyde is.”

“I am. I like to watch humans from afar. I’ve picked up a lot.”

“You like humans?”

“In the manner of liking them as more than just meals? Yes. I find them a fascinating species. I’ve done my best to keep them away from Clyde’s claws, but reasoning with it is no easy feat.”

Clyde hissed something that Alex couldn’t exactly make out, but sounded like “Hypocrite.” They decided not to press it. “Well, thanks for trying,” said Alex, smiling up at Simon.

“It’s no problem. Feel free to sleep on the couch we dragged in from that house. It’s old and dirty, but it’s better than nothing. Clyde, you should rest, too. I’ll keep watch.”

“Thank you.” Alex reached out and shook Simon’s hand. They had already touched one Veldigun today. No harm in touching another. “Thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome, truly.”

Alex curled up on the couch. They had no blanket or pillow, but they were tired enough to the point where they didn’t need one to fall asleep instantly. They were out in seconds, with no time to think about what the coming days held. That was probably for the best.

[cchickki]

Seed

summary: Furiosa and Jack briefly reflect on their feelings and their past, Furiosa finally tells Jack about the Green Place.

themes: hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, dreams & nightmares

pairing: furiosa x praetorian jack

rating: T - some swearing

word count: 2.1k

author's note: The support on the original one shot I wrote for them was overwhelming, I didn't think I'd write another part of this story, but you all convinced me. I can't thank you all enough for all the encouragement, I was on the brink of giving up writing for good and you all inspired me not to give up. Truly, thank you from the bottom of my heart!

part one - wounds

one shot under the cut, can also be read on ao3

Furiosa dreamt of nothing but blankness; a black background from a quieted mind she didn't recognize. This void wasn't frightening, in fact it was the opposite, she felt welcomed and safe in this suspended reality. Here there were no haunting reminders of her past; no reminders of all the hurt and uncertainty she kept bottled up inside.

There were no twisted memories of her mother’s face, contorted in agony as she screamed in anguish from a blade cutting her stomach, and the flames lapping at her feet. No image of Dementus’ smug face, his eyes crinkling in delight at the viewing of the suffering he caused others around him. No memories of her being ripped away from her home and forced on that damn motorcycle that carried her away. No memories of the faces of the number of people she was forced to kill in the name of survival.

She finally awoke, slowly as her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. It had been so long since she had a restful sleep that she felt disoriented, not knowing where she was and why she felt a presence pressed up against her. Her brows furrowed as she clenched her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to drift back to sleep and into the black void again; wanting it to swallow her whole and wisp her faraway from the horrible life she was forced to live. Although sleep did not take her, the memories of just a few hours before started to replay in her subconscious, flooding her senses like a broken dam. A distant hint of comfort she was able to seek while awake, comfort she had found in the arms of another.

Jack. 

She could still recall his scent, how his rough skin felt underneath her palms and on her fingertips, the delightful sensation of his lips pressed against hers. She questioned herself if any of that had been real, or if her yearning for touch and escape, and her attraction to him had manifested itself in her dreams. 

Furiosa knew she was inexperienced, she’d only ever observed acts of intimacy from the adults around her while growing up. She did her best to imitate them and do what she naturally thought was right. Her kisses had been clumsy, she wasn’t sure where to place her hands when she embraced Jack, she only knew she wanted to feel his warmth in that moment. She never wanted it to end, wanting to do nothing but remain in his arms for eternity as the rest of the world melted away all around them. Fuck the war rig, fuck the Citadel, fuck Dementus, fuck it all.

But was it even real? She thought to herself, her self-doubt gnawing away at any emotion that didn't lead to self-preservation.

She could hear someone sleeping beside her, their breathing rhythmic and deep. She could feel a weight on her stomach as sweat clung to her body, causing the chill from the desert air to make her shiver. She tried to gain her bearings, unsure how much time had passed since she fell asleep, but she felt some relief seeing that the sky was still dark. Jack stirred beside her, grabbing her attention from the stony ceiling of the escapement and her overwhelming thoughts. He faced her, his body close to hers as his arm draped across her abdomen, still holding her close as he slept.

Furiosa felt herself soften as she watched him, indulging herself for a few moments with their proximity to each other.

It hadn’t been a dream, it was all real. His touch and their feelings were real.

He shuddered in his sleep, unconsciously curling into himself in a meek attempt for warmth. She noticed the campfire had completely gone out, and he hadn’t put his shirt or jacket back on since she stitched up his arm. She sat up slowly, doing her best not to disturb his sleep. She managed to move his arm without waking him, gently stepping over his body to where his discarded clothing lay. She draped his shirt and jacket over him like a blanket, then went over to where the campfire was to ignite it again. She got the fire to start going again, she poked at the burning wood with a stick, trying to reposition it so the other logs and debris could alight. Furiosa glanced over her shoulder toward Jack’s slumbering figure, hoping the newly illuminated light from the fire and crackling sound from the burning didn’t wake him. 

He was like her. He had told her before that he often would have sleepless nights, though he kept the source of his restlessness vague. When she used to sleep among the war boys, she remembers watching him pace around the room, trying to tire his body and will it into giving in to the sweet submission of exhaustion. She understood, she had yet to tell him any details about her home. She had still asked him to join her and revealed the seed to him that she kept hidden in her hair. 

The seed. 

Her most prized possession from her mother, her only physical reminder of home. It carried her very heart and soul inside. Showing it to him made her body tremble in anxiousness and anticipation. She hadn’t trusted someone in this capacity since her mother or Valkyrie. Furiosa had faced death numerous times in her life, but the risk of wearing her heart on her sleeve and letting someone in had been the scariest gamble she had ever taken. Without compromising her home’s safety he had told her he would aid her in returning home. He had told her he had been rediverting supplies so she could escape when it was safe to do so. He hadn’t been pushy or demanded anything from her, he had shown her nothing but patience and mute understanding. Her heart had soared with his words, though these emotions were foreign to her, she didn’t understand why he was so disarming to her. Just being around him made her stomach flutter, her heartbeat quicken - she wondered if this is what her mother meant by 'love,' something she had tried to explain to her when she was younger, but she couldn't grasp the concept. It all seemed so complicated to her and foolish, when did something like 'love' ever thrive in an environment like the Wasteland?

Despite her confliction, Furiosa only wanted to picture her future with Jack by her side. She decided then, she was finally going to tell him about her home.

Jack's dreams felt jumbled together, like watching an old movie out of sequence or reading a favorite book out of order. Glimpses of his past flashed in his subconscious; grainy and out of focus. He dreamt of his parents, standing in what he assumed was once his childhood home’s living room, but he couldn’t remember exactly. He remembered how the rug felt against his knees, he often sat on it to play as a child or watch television. His parents were speaking to him in his dream, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Their mouths moved enthusiastically, but wordlessly, no doubt telling him about another honorable adventure they were going to lead. Even before the world went to utter shit they had kept the soldier and survivalist mindset.

If he wasn't dreaming of his parents, then he dreamt of the war rig, his mind constantly reeling over strategies on making deliveries and how to fix the rig to improve its capabilities. Even Colonel Joe Moore, the man he once knew before he became Immortan Joe would make an appearance at times. The complete and drastic metamorphosis from Joe's past self to now was hard to believe, Jack often wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. Did a man named Joe Moore ever actually exist? 

The more he dreamt of the war rig and the Wasteland, the more the hazy images he had of his parents seemed to fade, growing less detailed as the days went on. Eventually he knew he would fully forget them,the way their voices sounded was already a distant memory he couldn't seem to grasp.

Tonight, though, his dreams took a different direction than they usually went. 

Tonight he dreamed of her. 

Her dream image was walking in front of him, he steps as steady as they could be in the shifting sands of the Wasteland. Her hair was down, flowing behind her as the wind began to pick up. She glanced back toward him, as if to be sure that he was still following behind. She was like an angel among the dirt, her clothes and face pristine from any wear that the Wasteland and unforgiving sun forced on everyone who walked this ruined planet. He reached for her in his dream, taking her hand, feeling her fingers curl around his as she led him somewhere in the distance. Her intense eyes appeared to snag on something past him, widening in horror as a great shadow eclipsed over the sun. Before he could whirl around to see what it was, he woke up.

It took him a moment to come to. His stitched arm throbbed dully as he sat up, pulling against his skin. Jack had to center himself, letting his body and mind adjust back to being conscious again. It had been some time since he had an uninterrupted sleep, he had hoped the dream would continue in bliss instead of the abrupt awakening he had received. But it never worked out that way for him.

He saw Furiosa sitting in front of the fire, her back to him. She had her knees drawn to her chest, hugging herself as her chin rested on her kneecaps. He fully stood up, walking over and sitting beside her near the fire. She didn’t acknowledge him right away, her eyes transfixed on the flames, the fire reflected beautifully in her gray eyes. She seemed lost in thought, but she bit the inside of her lip, as if with anticipation to say something to him. 

He could only watch her for a moment, waiting with baited breath for her to speak. 

Furiosa looked down at her tattooed arm, her fingers tracing along the healed ink of stars. Her head finally turned toward his direction, her eyes downcast as she removed the seed she kept in her hair. She held it preciously within her palm, gesturing for Jack to take it. He did so, carefully plucking it from her hands, holding it within his own palm. She traced the ridges of it with her fingertips.

“It’s from the Green Place,” she finally said, her attention returning to the fire. “That’s where I’m from, a Place of Abundance, the place of Many Mothers.” She continued. “There’s crops, water, and a thriving community. It’s…” she sighed, struggling to find the words.

Jack waited patiently for her to continue, seeing her face become distorted as if in pain, a frown deepening on her face as tears pricked in the corner of her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, as all her words came rushing out in quick succession. She spoke passionately of her mother, the Vuvalini, her best friend Valkyrie, and specific remnants of her childhood that she could recall. The good memories made her smile, wider than he’d ever seen her smile before, but the tears now streaming down her face betrayed her mask of joy. As happy as the nostalgia made her feel, her eyes appeared full of sorrow as she recounted her past, moments that were prematurely stolen from her that she could never get back. He listened intently, keeping his attention on her as she vented. He noticed her voice was growing hoarse from her fervent delivery; this was the most she had spoken in years.

She was telling him a story about sneaking off with Valkyrie, picking a ripe fruit from a tree in an area they shouldn’t have been in. ‘Stay in sight,’ she had said, he presumed she was mimicking her mother’s voice, chuckling to herself as she continued on about Valkyrie’s anxiousness to wander but her own insistence that everything would be fine. Furiosa’s voice faltered on the last word, her eyes finally meeting his own.

For a second he could see the reflection of a scared little girl and the innocence of a stolen childhood lost. Her smile dropped completely, her composure crumbling as a sob heaved within her chest, her face dropping in her hands. 

Jack immediately pulled her into an embrace as she buried herself in his chest, her cries muffled. Her body trembled as he held her. "I promise I'll bring you home, Fury. You have my word." Jack vowed, his voice a gentle whisper as he stroked her back soothingly. "If it's the last thing I ever do, I swear I'll get you home." 

[webslingingslasher]

hii, could you please write peter comforting international student reader who misses her family?

i know a little bit about this but i was only states away and almost kermitted so i had to move back home, anyways don't be like me. i'm here for anyone in this boat, so if it ever feels like too much feel free to scream into the void that is my inbox. <3

“What the hell are you googling?” 

Peter’s sharp voice made you jump in your seat, feeling guilt immediately when he caught you in the act. You weren’t going to actually do anything but it was worth a google, you were just slightly curious, that’s all. 

“Nothing!” You try to shut the screen but his hand stops it from shutting. “Nuh uh, use my computer, tell the truth about what you’re doing.” You pucker and wait, calling his bluff. He said you could use his computer anytime you needed or wanted, this was one of those times. It was the best part about not having a laptop, you had a boyfriend that gave you free access to his. 

“How to get deported.” You mumble the words and watch him hold his head in his hands, he grunts and repeats your words. 

“How to get deported- if you get deported you don’t get to come back.” He snorts and comes to sit next to you on his bed, you shuffle further in his shoulder. You sigh, “I know, I just miss it.” 

Peter frowns, he understands how you feel. You feel like a stranger and out of place, it seems like everyone here, whether they know each other or not, are in on a big inside joke. The city feels too big, and at the end of the day, when you’re tired and hungry and poor you want to do nothing but come home to a familiar face, a warm hug from mom. Or an insult from a sibling, or maybe a passive aggressive comment from dad, something you would normally roll your eyes at or try and dodge by playing a timer in your mind to run to your room, but those were things to count on, now you were greeted by silence as your roommate failed to invite you out yet again. 

It feels scary and cold and alone and you really, really miss home. Because even if you were home, sacred, cold and lonely, you would still be at home. 

And Peter has been great. He’s invited you with loving arms, he’s given you a friends list and even extended his aunt’s love to you. But it wasn’t home, he and you knew that. Peter Parker can be magical, but he can’t make New York feel like home no matter how hard he tries. 

“It’s okay to be homesick.” He presses a kiss to your temple. You want to cry. 

“Will this ever feel like home?” 

It seemed impossible. You’d been here for over a year, that’s what makes it hard. International was expensive, you didn’t get to go home for the holidays. Without facetime you think you would forget what your family looks like, it’s hard now to imagine your hometown, and the most troubling part of it all was that even if you went home, it wouldn’t feel like home anymore. 

It's purgatory. Half between where home once was and where the bones remain, and the new home, the home you’re building yourself. No one told you it would be so hard, they prepare you for moving on and growing up but never how to fix melancholia or make a house feel like a home. They don’t prepare you to be a stranger in your own home.  

Peter stops the spirling sadness. 

He thinks on it for a minute and speaks. 

“No.” 

You look at him with wide doe eyes, sparkling with the promise of tears. 

“No?” All you wanted was for him to say this was home, did he not understand? 

Peter shakes his head confidently, “No. No, this will never feel like home, because it’s not home. It’s where you are now, and you can make it home, but it builds slowly.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Home is home for you because it’s what you knew. You could rely on your parents being there, or that your favorite coffee shop is the one from home, because you’ve been going there for half your life. Or maybe it’s home because you’ve walked those same routes until you nearly wore a tread mark in the concrete, I’m just saying home is only home because it’s routine.” 

“So I can make a new home?” 

“Of course you can, it doesn’t take away from the one you already have either. When people move away and start their life somewhere else they say it’s home, but when they go visit for the holidays what do they always say?” 

“I’m going home.” 

“And when they leave and go back to where they left, what do they say?” 

You pause. “I’m going home.” 

Peter nods, like you’ve just proved his point. 

You sigh and try to blink back tears. Those people are not like you, they’re strong and brave. You can almost bet they never cry and think about being home, or how they are impossibly far away from home. 

“And I can build a routine here? I can build a home?” 

Peter hums, “What’s your favorite part about Wednesday?” 

You grin, “Our weekly mission to eat at every pizza place in the city.” 

“And never the same one twice.” 

You hold up a finger to correct him, “Until we get through all of them first.” 

“How about Friday?” 

You wiggle next to him, excited even thinking about the upcoming one. “Discount movies at the red theater.” 

“What about coming back from school?” 

“I love to walk the long way because I get to pass under all those willow trees and I can see Kevin.” 

Peter gasps, “I can’t believe I almost forgot about Kevin.” 

You furrow your brows and speak seriously, “He’s incredibly important to me, Peter.” 

He laughs and speaks once more, “What I’m saying is you’re building a home, a routine. You look forward to Wednesdays and Fridays and Kevin’s and walking home from school, and some days are going to be really hard and you want nothing more than the comfort of home. But on those days I'm here for you. And I can try and get schwifty on trying to get you deported.” 

You lean into his arm and sniffle, “And Kevin? Will he be there for me on those days too?” 

Peter grunts, “Yes, Y/N. The damn cat from the bodega will be there.” 

[landhoe-norris]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

thanks for this jo! just what i needed today (i did get two and i'll be answering that one as well).

Life After You - Lando laid his hands on the lifeless chest of his fiancé's body, dressed in the suit he was supposed to get married in. He wanted to cry, to scream, to punch something. Everything had been taken away from him in the blink of an eye, and yet he couldn't mourn it. Not in the way he was expected to. He had shed tears when he had gotten the call, the voice on the other end telling him the man he was supposed to marry in two weeks had died in a car crash. But since then, there had been nothing. And now, on the weekend that was supposed to be the happiest of his life, he was watching his future being lowered into the ground.

This is the first multi-chapter fic I ever finished, and it holds a special place in my heart. My writing style has definitely evolved since I finished it, but there's just something about it that still makes me proud and warms my heart whenever I think about it. it's based on the movie catch and release.

all you have to do (stay) - Lando doesn't quite know how it had evolved to this, how he had become the grid's trophy or consolation prize in some instances. All he knows is that it fills a void, gives him purpose, and makes him feel wanted. He loves taking care of them. But who's taking care of Lando?

This is my all time favourite fic I've written, and the one I had least problems with (re: inspiration, time, and editing). Everything just seemed to click—I’d get ideas easily, scenes flowed naturally, and I didn’t have to wrestle with the plot or struggle to get it right. It was one of those rare times where writing felt effortless, like I was just putting down what the story wanted to be.

worship me beneath the sheets - It's so sensual, the way they're moving together, and Charles is lapping up the attention he's getting from both men. It's what he thrives on, craves, one of the reasons he became a model in the first place. All eyes are on him, always. He looks back up at Max only to see that he doesn't have his attention anymore, and neither does Daniel. He's looking over their shoulders. Charles wants to look behind to see what has captured his attention, but he's fairly stuck between their two bodies, so he doesn't; he just looks expectantly at Max as he holds out his hand. Charles can see a mop of curls come into his vision out of the corner of his eye, grabbing at Max's outstretched hand or Best friends Daniel and Max meet strangers Charles and Lando at a club and take them back to their hotel.

This one kind of just came alive. I don’t really remember writing it; all I knew is that I wanted to write something hot. The story took shape almost on its own, with each scene building naturally, and before I knew it, I’d crafted something I was proud of. It’s one of those rare pieces where every word felt right, and I barely had to go back to edit. I love how it turned out—like the story knew exactly what it wanted to be from the start! It's one of the very few stories I've written where there's no Carlando.

Black Velvet - Lando has gone through a lot in his life. When he was 13, his mom went missing, and he was left with a dad who wanted nothing to do with him. All of this has caused abandonment issues that make him cling to anyone who shows him kindness. When he starts working at Sapphire, a strip club owned by Lewis Hamilton, he finally starts figuring himself out. But what he doesn't realise is that he's launching a chain of events that can ultimately lead him to lose everything he holds dear to his heart while simultaneously resurrecting the ghosts of his past.

This fic is a labour of love and comes from blood, sweat and tears (and I'm not being hyperbolic). I went through hell as I wrote it, was accused of plagiarism because this is a stripper fic, and apparently you can only have on stripper fic in this fandom. But I poured everything I had into this story, fighting through doubt and criticism because I believed in it. Each chapter was a battle, yet it’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of <3

Impractical Magic - Charles and Lando were born into a family where falling in love means you end up dead. They take different paths in life, Charles wanting nothing more in life than to feel the exhilaration love brings, and Lando too afraid to ever put himself out there. When Charles gets into trouble with one of his boyfriends, Lando must figure out how to help him while trying his best not to fall in love with the one man who can take his life apart, Detective Carlos Sainz.

I'm quite proud of my chaptered fics, much more than I am of the one shots I've written. This one was for the first Carlando Winter Break Exchange, and I left it way too late and was fighting against time and myself the entire time I wrote it, and yet I enjoyed the hell out of it, and am proud to say that I wrote this :)

[tassodelmiele]

The Magic Whatever

I needed to put this chaos into concrete writing-something.

I know this would ended as a mess in my mind, with no possibilities to born.

So I write it.

And now I'll feel bad if I won't keep on with the story.

Hope you're having a nice day filled with chocolate-

Disclaimer: titles make no sense.

Have a nice day

....

Soap didn't die on that mission; not 'cause there was no gunshot.

Bullet just disappeared.

And he found who made the trick, bringing the whole team with him in a rabbit hole filled with dangerous stuff sprinkled in lusterdust and smelling blood-scent, crumbled in caramelized sugar and glazed madeleines.

'Cause Marigold just did what she does best: following her instinct. And that day she just stole the bullet flying toward Soap's head.

1- Only thing you can trust in the morning is to have your pajama still on

«You have to trust me»

You have to.

Sure.

As if there were other possibilities. 

Anything could have done the work on that shitty morning, everything good enough to make the clock worth listening to: coffee's scent; pancake pan-fry's fizzle; a baseball bat in the middle of the forehead.

Anything but a geared man with a loaded gun rushing in the bedroom, making her remember that the whole load of fucks happened yesterday where just the cherry on top of a brown cake that didn't smell of chocolate.

Rushing upstairs became a stumble on every step; at the umpteenth shot hands ran on the ears and knees crumbled down, crouching the whole body on the floor.

I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna-

A rough pat on the back awakened padded synapsis. There was a sudden yell: 

«Run!»

Legs did the work better than brain, jerking up, stomping on the stairs using no breath at all, with lungs empty of air and full of ashes and gun-powder scent.

Sudden cracks and blows followed the run to the second floor, heartbeats stuffed ears and throat, climbing on the gut's walls with the acidic adrenaline's aftertaste. Eyes were watering from fear and dirt, legs were moving by heart to the most open space in the house: the balcony; the goddamn 1x1 meter balcony with a lovely Thai grocery shop's sight. 

Chest crushed on the railing so suddenly, fresh spring breeze hit her with a kick in the lungs.

I'm out

The consciousness got foggy at that moment of paradise, and a tight grasp on the pajama brang it back down to the shitty ground: someone tugged her far from the metal grip of the railing, sucking her entrails backwards to throw her on the ground.

She slides all the short way to the wall; the head burned in a sudden bang on the fucking drainpipe.

Someone collected her body by pulling the shirt again, and lifted her whole weight. Terrible dry and smelly scent of old and powder hit her nostrils, one millimeter away from the not so ensuring face of a stranger in some sort of full-military asset. 

He smiled so kindly while spitting:

«Goodbye, dorogoy»

And pushed her out of the balcony.

Whatever came next, is void: body and soul get vacuumed in the eternal nothingness of a fall from the fourth floor; eyes squeezed, adrenaline rushed to the brain, screaming: you're gonna die; but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to grab, nothing to save her.

My breakfast's still in the microwave; a stupid last thought.

Just, it wasn't the last.

A firm hand catched her ankle, burning soft skin under rough gloves. She dangled, hanging still so dangerously close to the railing that the head banged again, but that was the smallest of her problems. Voices came from above, heard hazy and fuzzy in her scattered brain, yells and metal exchanging places as if someone was trying to drive a nail with a gun.

Then, a more nitid, strangely pronounced: «Let bounty fall»

And a clear loaded gun.

Her fried brain took advantage of that moment to make a to-do-list: the missing will, in case of premature death (almost certainly at that point); the promise to eat grandma's piadina at her home; a pistachio-macchiato she owned Johnny since he brought her home during a storm; oh, and…

…and air swallowed her up with the force of muscles she certainly didn't have.

The same, tight grip that was avoiding her a spine-crusher-jump, suddenly lifted her from the ankle, with a pull so strong that she was sure wings had grown on her back, letting her fulfill the dream to be a fairy. But as soon as the body flipped over the balcony, the gloved hand made her change trajectory with a fast move.

Air gave her stomach a kick and her guts a stir, while whoever was moving her threw every inch of Winnie the Pooh pajama, yellow air and morning sickness on the "dorogoy" one, as if she was a goddamn club.

She was smashed on the man, facepalming her nose on his gear, and he was tossed KO on the ground.

Floor's caress hit her too, still held by ankles and, maybe, with a kneecap a little bit out of its place.

«Ye'r alright?»

The known voice reached her ears, and that was the first good news since one hour.

He's still here

Then she kinda blacked out, not dazed enough to faint, but at least to replace sounds with heartbeats and sight with foggy, swirling floor tiles. 

Moment of silence.

Johnny pointed at who they were supposed to protect.

«What in the bloody hell-»

«There wasn't time» was the rushed up answer. Ghost let the naked ankle go, patting his oddly slimy gloves on the tights. 

«Why 're women so creamy?»

«Beauty purposes»

«'S horrible»

«Didn't think you were so picky»

«I don't like touching maggot's texture, if that's what you mean by "being picky"»

Soap knelt next to her, who faltered something inaudible as soon as being touched. He stuck his finger around her joints, checking for potential damages.

She whined as he turned her face up to him: there was a big, yellowy spot next to the left side eye.

«That was already there» Ghost's specified.

«Aye, I know»

Fingers pressed on her knees.

«She truly is a strong one» Lt. muttered.

«Told ya»

«Difficult to believe»

«Ye've literally throwed her like a goddamn baseball bat»

Ghost silently looked at the girl, splattered on the ground.

«It worked»

He crunched down, collecting her body on his back as a potato bag.

«'S better get the hell outta here»

«What 'bout wake her up first?»

«Are ya proposing to explain her the whole shit bag now?»

Soap hesitated for two seconds; that sounded as a negative answer for the Lt.

◌◌◌◌◌

One hour later, morning coffee hit Price with strong aroma, cigar aftertaste and a plethora of questions condemned to be unresolved.

He sipped, holding the mug a little longer in front of his face just to look at her without making it too obvious how bad he had no idea of what the fuck was the matter with that random yellow-haired lady sit in his office, surrounded by Johnny and his pathetical attempt to be comforting.

«Is» he pointed at her «she the target?»

Gaz nodded. «Soap said so»

«Mh». He sipped again, pondering about it. 

«A bloody child»

«Apparently she's twentythree»

«What's the point?»

«Bakery worker, living in a suburb's flat, three roommates-»

«The point in her being a target» Price specified.

Gaz lowered the voice, trying to capture some crumble of whatever Soap was saying to the girl who was, luckily, giving 'em her back. He carefully opened a pack of crackers. «We've had a speech 'bout it. You already forgot?» 

The captain pierced Gaz's breakfast in a cold glare.

«You're as helpful as a mosquito net in a submarine»

A sudden fear of downgrading hit the sergeant. The cracker came back in the pack.

«…sorry cap. She's the» he cleared his throat, feeling a little stupid saying: «someone with a magic whatever», as Soap had described her the first time.

Memory about the oddest Task Force's meeting of all time gave Price a facepalm. 

He swallowed half the cup of coffee at once.

«What in the bloody hell are we doing»

«…an unbearable, complete fucking disaster»

Patting her head was an option Soap was evaluating for half an hour, but maybe it wasn't the most clever move. He ended up looking at her very firmly.

«That's the bloody hell you've saved me from»

No signs of life from the other side. He munched a few swears, knowing so well what he was trying was as confusing as telling a chicken that it could fly like eagles with its shitty wings.

«Look» he started again, third time in a row «'m not kidding, 'k? I know it's you who 'm looking for, 'm just asking a little help to understand how in the fuck a goddamn bullet disappeared one inch from ma head»

She wasn't trembling, crying, fainting; maybe she wasn't even breathing, sitting still in front of his face while Soap had a complete visual of her pissed face, and the lovely sight of Gaz eating crackers and Price silently hating everyone while standing in the corridor.

«Two years»

The story began again in a low sigh. Soap raised two fingers at his temple.

«It was two years ago. I was 'bout to be bloody dead meat, with a shoot here, a russian bullet in ma brain»

He decided it was time for the secret weapon: a piece of newspaper came out from his pocket, shown as if it was the Saint Grall in all its oldness and perfection.

«'Ve found this». Soap pointed at the paper: a photo, five written lines. «It's you. Hospitalized 'cause of a bullet nearly pierced your temple»

The sheet got closer to her face.

«Except for you being alone. In your home. And I know ye'r no suicidal» 

Silence. Again.

Soap managed to pat her shoulder, a middle way between raising his voice to be the bad policeman, and pinching her cheeks to be the friendly one.

«...'m sorry for the shitty tons of lies 've told ye. At the bakery, I mean». It was so stupid to make apologies, but he did it anyway. «Duty purposes, laddie»

He gave her another pat.

«Fact is that who tried to kill me knows you». He chose to get straight to the point. «'Cause ye've got…dunno. Something. And that something saved me, somehow. And look, gorgeous, I don't believe in "abrakadabra", and whole Harry Potter's universe's a shitty filmography for ma taste. I just know I'm still breathing 'cause of you, and I'm used to return favors»

«There's no point in explain myself if you don't believe in magic»

Voice cut her throat sharply yet loud, destroying every Soap's attempt of being nice. Her still swollen eyes pointed at him. 

«Is not something I can explain»

«Try» 

It was so surreal as a situation that if a llama with a hat appeared, no one would have been surprised. 

«I'll listen, at least»

◌◌◌◌◌

Snake bites hurt the most when the weather wasn't stable. Like an old good war scar, hidden under shiny gold dots that she constantly tortured in search of a crumble of quiet.

«Lost in yer thoughts?»

Marigold's hair waved like a dandelion's shade in the gloomy morning. A big cup of pistachio-macchiato was presented in all of its greatness to the usual early-morning customer.

«Kinda funny weather, isn't it?» 

«That's London, laddie»

She chuckled kindly, repeating a motion used with every visitor that became authentic just with Johnny.

«I'd rather be surrounded by coriander field»

«That's what ye planted 'round the house?»

«My parents' choice. I don't like them, smell becomes odd on rainy days. Better than London's morning, though»

«Aye. I bet sun suits ye better»

Another chuckle, and she went KO with a throaty laugh that exploded hidden in her hands. Johnny raised his cup.

«Cheers»

Two months before he showed up out of nowhere, stating "the smell of good coffee" had brought him to the Merry Marguerite.

Marigold had seen all sort of human being in her bakery-waitress experience: who pretended to look at ease in suit, leather bag and badly knotted tie; who was hiding from his life, drowning every brain cell in sugar; happy ones and silent ones; lost ones and usual ones; strong espresso ones, and milky-chocolaty-heavy cream latte ones.

Johnny was none of them.

Johnny was a usual stranger, a known foreigner, a recalled wayfarer; a usual guest who showed up every ten years, but you know him since you've been born. 

«Merry Marguerite. 'S yer name?». That was the question in front of the first pistachio-macchiato the girl had ever been asked for.

«Nope. That's my boss previous cat»

«Cool. So 'm not gonna call you Margie or somethin'»

What a funny way to ask a name. She smiled at first, kindly, disappearing in the back to grab some fresh pain au chocolat. 

Marigold didn't expect him to wait for an actual answer. 

He came and clinged on the counter, with those huge biceps relaxed and a silly smile, a little cocky but never disrespectful. He asked for his macchiato, made a joke about the bakery's name and waited for her to give him something back.

After three days she giggled him a quick: «Mary, Or Goldie. Doll, if you want, some friends of mine used to call me Doll»

«'Cause ye'r cute?»

«'Cause as a child I used to cut every inch of my doll's hair and make them join the "punk club"»

And tortured doll's stories were what made them friends. 

«You're gonna have green tongue at this rate»

«Can't help it. That's the best pistachio-macchiato in town»

«Of course. That's why there's a secret recipe»

Johnny raised his eyes from the cup. He was dressed up almost the same every day: jeans and t-shirt, mohawk and bright-curious eyes as blue as the sky London decided not to show to his citizens.

«Spit it out»

Answer was a long breath of her, blown on the fresh madeleines.

«A secret's a secret, Johnny»

«Ye made me curious, though»

«That what secrets are about: make people eager to know what's underneath»

«Aye. I can tell ye're good at that»

Her fingers stopped working on the correct rearrangement of the custard croissants. 

«Yeah? Am I that good at not blabbing our secret recipes?» she laughed. «I'll add the skill to my curriculum, then»

The waiting for an answer became a little too long, making her raise her sight.

Johnny wasn't really laughing: his smile was telling something that could go from "I know what kinda porn you're into" to "the yellow in your hair is brightening my day up".

He suddenly smirked: «Feeling under pressure, Doll?», ending the question in the last macchiato sip. 

«Should I?». She clinged on the counter, a little cheeky «Am I under interrogation?»

«Ah» The empty cup ended up on the side, allowing him to have a full vision of her hair brightness. «It would be no good for ye»

«How come?»

«C-u-r-i-o-s-i-t-y» He spelled. «I'll end up digging too deep on ye to find what's underneath. It's not pleasant havin' a stranger stomping on yer garden»

«And what if you lose yourself while finding a way out of me?»

«Ye'll guide me. 'M sure ye've got signs in whatever wood has grown inside of you»

And Marigold became silent, softly smiling a sad sight, unexpected through the funny mood Johnny thought to have been built.

«And…» A warm, sugary smelling madeleine was offered to him as a pay in advance. «If you find the way out, would you tell me too, please, which way I ought to go from there?»

He chuckled, suddenly kinda softened by her tone, catching the quote so well he wasted no time to replay:

«It depends a good deal on where you want to get to»

«I don't much care where»

«Then it doesn't much matter which way you go»

Whole bakery filled with the loss of words that baked the room in glazed and caramelized smell, crunchy as a chocolate cookie fresh from the oven. Silence got stuffed with coffee sipped under breath, time got replaced with madeleine's crumbs rolled under the fingertips.

The first bite on the pastry broke the spell. Johnny ate it whole, chewing slowly.

«Seems like, even if ye're lost in yer wonderland, ye'v found a way to me»

And then, she knew.

She knew he had read her somehow, even if he hadn't understood a single word.

It was two years ago that the dream went away: a man alone, dark and chaos of voices, blood smell and an odd, painful hold on the guts; words shouted fast and aggressively, a clock ticking, the well known feeling of something that was about to happen.

A shot. 

And the sudden awakening in a sweat lake, breath lost in the dream and the pressure against her lungs screaming that there wasn't time left.

Marigold didn't know why she had chosen to go to bed that early, as much as she didn't know why she was running out of bed, stomping on the fallen sheets to reach the bathroom curled on her reversed stomach, with guts mixing inside as if she was dish-washing her organs.

Lungs were closed, breath fought to come in and out and heart started racing faster, pounding so much blood to her head. Fingers grasped the hair, dug the scalp, searched for a way to the brain like something was desperately trying to get out, or get in, she didn't know, it was just so painful, so hopeless, so furious, and clock ticked faster, louder, stuffing head and eardrums while voices become clearer, surrounding her in a battlefield that certainly wasn't her bathroom anymore.

Everything came to a peak of adrenaline piercing her brain. She grabbed something from somewhere, tearing it away from a reality that wasn't her, that shouldn't have been her, in which she didn't belong. Her fingers grasped the bullet, pulling it away from him, whoever him was.

And she just took it with her, in the bathroom, stepping out of the trajectory fast enough to let it just scratch her head.

◌◌◌◌◌

«Why?»

Her shoulders scrolled, stiff from the tension.

«I've asked myself so many times. Maybe because I know you were dying. Whoever you were. Whatever you were doing»  

«When we met the first time, did ye recognize me?»

«No. Dream wasn't that clear»

«Did you speak 'bout it with family? Friends, or-»

«Is not that easy to explain, I've told you»

«Have ye done it before?»

She havered on the chair, eyebrows frowned and lower lips bitten to hold the trembling.

«Dunno». Voice raised to hide the fear, replacing it with slow boiled anger. «Maybe»

«Ye don't know?»

«No» She shouted. «I can't know, I've not got a secret diary about headaches and nightmares, sorry»

«Ye'r tellin' me ye've got some sorta "telekinetic" power-»

«'M telling you nothing. Just how it went that night»

«Aye, that's what 'm saying: you're describing me, if not a magic trick, at least a psychic ability»

«I don't know what it is» Words became sharp pebbles thrown randomly out of her guts. «And if you wanted to thank me 'cause you're still alive, I accept your gratitude, even if you've brought me home a goddamn bunch of armed people»

She hit the right spot to make him straighten his back on the chair, while still trying to upload information about the whole "dream" matter.

Soap knew his face got a little crinkle around the eyes and the stiff teeth.

«We've brought none to you, Doll. They would have been there to kill you anyway»

«I don't have any Russian friends. Nor enemies»

He mumbled: «Aye», as if he already knew what kind of people she was acquainted with, as if he'd already dug her whole life. And she faltered, squeezing fists on her pajamas, shaking in a motion of frustration that got her to the guts. 

«What? Have you already scanned me? You've done what the fuck you wanted with my free day just for what?»

Johnny fell from an apple tree.

«We went to save you-»

«Sure, after spending whole months telling me bullshits. ‘Cause everything was bullshit. Correct? Our chats at the bakery, you working as a PC technician, your terrible coffee tastes…»

Words died on her tongue in a sudden spin of her head. She grabbed her temples, rilling fingertips around the pale skin, and hissed as the digits touched the livid bruise around the eye.

Liquorice aroma filled her nostrils in a strong caress; Soap was offering her a candy pack.

«Ye've not eaten this mornin'» He muttered, recalling the time at the bakery when she almost fainted 'cause of skipped breakfast and lower pressure. 

She took a bunch of bitter-sweet treats, stuffing her mouth.

Johnny's sight made a fly to his feet, collecting time before blowing: «Wasn't all bullshits. Sorry, anyway»

«Why that much effort? What for?»

«Get to know ye. I need to be sure 'bout you»

«Pretty sure I'm as clear as an empty fish tank to you, by now»

«Wrong»

She frowned, irritated from the tip toes to the dry hair's double edges. Liquorice candy cracked under her teeth.

«Whaddya mean? That I can't even know how the fuck I play ma goddamn, stupid society-role?»

«Calm down laddie, 's nothin' this pretentious, was just giving ma take on you»

»…mh» another candy ended up chewed under her tongue. «So I'mma childish whoever to you and your mates?»

Soap gazed at her, chuckling, pondering about how seriously he needed to take her bratty chat. 

«…was life what made you that difficult to handle?»

«Dunno, you tell me, 's you who filled me in shit to "get to know me"»

At this point a strong, harsh incipit of voice pierced through the corridor, shouting: «The goddamn bloody Jesus of Laswell has finally brought me that stupid-…»

Ghost's steps slowed down as he faced two idiots stuck in front of the office door: one holding a half-pack of crackers, the other was drinking from an empty mug.

Deciding how to react brought him to the right conclusion to pretend nothing was happening. He passed a blue folder to Price, who was badly hiding shame behind a I-wasn't-eavesdropping kinda look.

«Intel 'bout that russian» Ghost explained.

Captain coughed a: «Did he speak?»

«I was very persuasive. Dunno why Laswell needed to write down what he'd already spit with his teeth»

«Bureaucracy can't be avoided. Verdict?»

«Clear as a nuclearized swamp in the middle of nowhere» 

«'S what he told you?»

«He told me» skull mask turned darker to match its owner's attitude, lowering on Price's coffee scent breath. «They were there to rob. I made him tell…»

He turned, almost instinctively, as he heard two voices muttering from the office, recognizing Soap's one in the being-as-nice-as-possible mood. 

And he saw those horrible yellow bob hair again, the oddest pajama with little Winnie the Pooh stamps, and bruises marked on the arm that Ghost was quite sure was the one he made collide with the Russian soldier.

«Why is that child still there?»

«Security»

«That's why I'm asking you. Shouldn't be held, like, somewhere safer?»

«Nothin's safer than my office»

Ghost blown, nodding ironically.

«Plus» The folder came back to the Lt. «Soap wasted no time trapping her in that sorta interrogatory». Price gazed at them, knowing well Johnny was aware they had listened to everything. «Don't think he's cleared his mind 'bout you-know-what, though»

«Better he does, since we've rushed all of this shit 'cause of that» 

Price sighed, Gaz chuckled 'cause it was funny seeing Ghost complaining like an old man, and the Lieutenant just growled again: «An enormous ton of shit»

«Following that lady wasn't time wasted, at least. There is something stinky hidden underneath». The last cracker was being chewed in a mess of crumbles on the shirt. Gaz muttered a swear before adding: «She was being chased by those men. Fully armed, you said»

«Affirmative. Three, ready to kill»

«What were you sayin' 'bout it?»

«That russian» Ghost instantly reconnected his synapsis with the previous speech, recalling his fists on the man's face with a hidden smirk. «said they were sent by some sorta monk»

The statement made the audience caught by suspense. Frowned eyebrows and tilted foreheads spoke for themselves.

Gaz tried to break the silence with a cautious: «Some sorta wha-»

But Price felt the urge to make a fast recall:

«Four months ago, Soap found that girl with the "magic whatever" that he stated saved him from Makarov. Two days ago» he counted on his fingers «Soap spotted a man following her home. He also did the day after. That made Sergeant suspicious and you two eventually get involved in that sorta "saving" operation»

«Soap was right, at least. Someone was keeping a close watch on her»

«Yeah, but» Captain's hand flew in the air, holding his line of discussion. «Am I the only one noticing there's a bloody nothin' logic 'bout this? Are we really getting involved in somethin' raised by a "someone saved me with magic, and I'm gonna find him"?»

Ghost gazed at him, eyes half-hidden by the mask.

«You trusted Soap»

«Undoubtedly» Was shouted so clearly that nothing was left to be clarified.

It wasn't Soap himself the wrong variable in the equation.

It was that Soap was right. 

And it was not logical. So illogical it was actually happening, and Price couldn't just register an impossible chance that was occurring in front of his goddamn eyes.

«What if» Gaz suggested, licking cracker crumbles out of his lips «We just ask her?»

«Ya heard: she doesn't know»

«Yeah, well, maybe she doesn't know if it's safe to spit out the truth in front of three strangers and an almost ex-friend» He nodded toward Soap. «'S not like he's playin' his cards well»

«What do you suggest, sergeant?»

«We could just-»

And the chair that was hosting Marigold's butt suddenly got thrown on the floor by her sudden standing. Three pairs of eyes caught her taking on Soap in all her pajamas and yellowness, without a single world left as she grabbed the sergeant's shirt with both hands, roaring with a voice thought impossible for one her size:

«Just let me at least pretend I did something good!!»

She turned her still naked feet, ready to run home somehow, killing spree in her clenched fists and rage in her bruised throat.

Steps died immediately at the trio's sight.

The otter-puppy eyed with a hat; the good twin of Chris from "The day before" ; the Dia de los muertos cosplayer in the wrong season.

Classification ended with a kick in the head from her own brain, which told her to have a good look at that scary-skeleton mask.

She blew her cheeks, finger pointed at Ghost as she shouted almost with a growl:

«Youfuckin'sonofa-!»

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