#thinkin many thoughts all the time forever

[isthebootylogical]

comrades I am once again thinking about the alternate timeline I am unwell here’s what i’ve got:

imagine how the trial would play out in this reality, jayce would never defend himself after killing a child. he accepts banishment willingly. here’s the kicker for me - jayce tries to kill himself in the original timeline because his life’s work is being destroyed, he has no prospects, and no one believes he can change the world among other things. when he’s (sorta) directly responsible for the death of a child, I think he would specifically Especially not attempt suicide Because Because Because - when he feels he’s to blame for something, we’ve seen him go to the ends of the earth to atone for it a few times in the show. the relevant instance being when a child dies at the shimmer facility he’s ready and willing to destroy the mercury hammer (and possibly all of their hextech work) to make things right. he hesitates on the hexcore because it could save viktor but otherwise I think he would destroy that too. when he has a child’s blood on his hands in the alternate universe and his work is already being destroyed, I think he would probably choose to live in order to right his wrongs, even if only indirectly. maybe he finds a way to help the kids somehow in whatever village he ends up in post banishment. builds them tools or toys, teaches them stuff idk but something to try to cosmically make up for what he took did.

okay that’s what he’s doing over there. now think of viktor at the trial. in the original timeline he hears jayce’s defense of his work and is intrigued enough to go after him. in this alternate world the trial isn’t what hooks vik but I think he’s still a curious (and nosy) mf and would absolutely go through jayce’s work before it was destroyed. the mention of magic intrigues him but he checks for himself that jayce has actual merit to his theories in the original timeline. I think he’s slower to get on board in the alternate world but after seeing jayce’s work we know he can see the potential there.

now i’m picturing all of this happening and viktor needing jayce to help continue the work, probably illegally but we know vik has no qualms with that. cue the letters to jayce imploring him to join vik in continuing their research and jayce’s vehement refusal because the work only amounted to bloodshed. now cue vik showing up on his doorstep like hey bitch I brought the science to you let’s do this together. jayce being the gracious host ximena raised him to be doesn’t immediately kick him out and gets convinced eventually.

who knows where that story ends but can you imagine?? if I could write anything half decent this would be a 350k partners to lovers alternate universe hurt comfort angst with a happy ending NOVEL. anyways.

[capricornlevi]

(nsfw, mdni)

toji is many things, but he's not a romantic -- and he's never claimed to be such a thing. he told you as much the night you met, a mere thirty minutes before you both fumbled your way inside your apartment and he went down on you on your tiny ikea loveseat.

you were fine with it, truthfully. you work eighty hour weeks and don't have time for a consistent sleep schedule, much less a boyfriend, and so this arrangement is honestly the best thing you could've asked for.

when you have an evening free and you're not in the mood to spend it alone, you just send him a text about ten words long. then, toji replies with an even shorter answer, and within the hour, you're grinding on his thick muscular thighs like your life depends on it.

so it confuses you when toji starts to assume the doggy position during hookups -- only doggy, and nothing else -- fucking you from behind as if to avoid meeting your eye. he never initiates a kiss, letting you take the lead in that regard. he even cuts the pre-sex smalltalk short, offering monosyllabic answers, if any at all, to your polite and friendly questions.

is he ... mad at you? you've never even shared a full conversation, so you're not sure you've even done anything to anger him.

but tonight, with toji's hips pressed flat against your ass as his thrusts start to become messy and uneven, he lets his inner thoughts slip.

"so fuckin' pretty, you know that?" he mumbles, each syllable laden with a lust you've never heard before. "so pretty it pisses me off, fucks with my head a bit ... in a good way, i guess. makes me fuckin' finish too quick, though, y'know that?"

a particularly deep thrust has you gasping into your pillow. when your breathing evens back out, you decide to call his bluff; peering over your shoulder, you see him looking at you with a gaze so reverent it tells you he's being truthful.

"even just talkin' to you, seein' you when i walk in ... it gets me so hard that it fuckin' hurts. i get hard just thinkin' about this ..." he trails off, shaking his head as if disbelieving. he keeps fucking you, keeps his firm grip on your hips as he pulls you back up onto him, but it's as if his facade his cracking, his internal monologue spilling out. "you call and i come runnin', at your beck and call, but i wouldn't change a goddamn thing," another pause for him to groan against gritted teeth, "...think i might be fucked ... think i want this more than --"

snapping back into his senses, he trails off and picks up his pace; it's not long before his name is spilling from your lips as you tip over the edge, and his front cracks again as he finishes deep inside.

"so, so, so good for me. just fuckin' perfect for me. want to make you m -- want to do this forever, fuckin' you like you deserved to be fucked."

his movements slow and, just as your heartrate returns to normal, you hear him once again, far clearer, more lucid and intelligible this time:

"so fuckin' perfect for me."

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P12)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: The reader wakes up and Joel is there to comfort her.

Warnings: ptsd, depression, brief mention of rape, panic attacks

Masterlist

Part 1 and 13

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

Joel was grateful that he didn't have to deal with snow anymore.

Y/N had been asleep for almost 48 hours now, and he was beginning to worry.

To give everyone a break, they hid in an abandoned RV.

Just until she could wake.

Joel stepped outside to talk to Ellie, who was sitting on a truck bed nearby.

"Ellie! I found this in there! Beefaroni. Chef Boyardee." And he held up the can like a kid on Christmas.

Ellie nodded, "Okay. Cool. Probably won't be as good when you cook it."

They both laughed, but those laughs turned serious as they both remembered Y/N.

…

Joel was startled by the loud gasp of air that came from the RV couch.

He quickly kneeled next to the couch that held Y/N. He took her head in the hands gently, "Y/N….? You awake?"

Her eyes opened just barely.

Joel let out a breath of relief, "Oh, sweet girl!" 

She let out a whimper and squirmed in his hold, "D…stop… stop, please…"

Joel wanted to cry at the lack of strength she had left.

"Y/N. It's me…"

His words did nothing to soothe her.

Her hands came up to grab his, "I didn't do anything… please…"

Joel immediately let her go to give her space, letting his hand move away from her face and rest at her waist.

But this only made things worse.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to free herself from him.

Joel grabbed her face again, determined to let her recognize him. He pulled her face close to his and let his voice relax, "Y/N, you sweet, sweet woman. Please look at me. It's me. It's Joel."

She simply stared in fear.

He had seen her be scared many times, but never had she looked so terrified.

And it was from him.

"You know me." Joel tried to reason.

She cried out as she studied his face. A look of recognition crossed her features. "I… J…Joel? JOEL?!"

He smiled with a laugh, "Yeah! You're safe, honey…"

She jumped into his arms, crying into his shoulder. 

He held her tightly, letting his arms wrap around her shaking frame.

He kissed the side of her head in relief, letting his eyes close to enjoy the moment while he had it.

"You okay, sweet girl?" He asked softly.

She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, "Is Ellie o…okay?"

Joel smiled and gently wiped at her tear-stained face, "Yes. You protected her. She's just fine. You need to tell me about you."

She shook her head, "'M fine."

Joel shook his head, "No. You need to be honest with me. I need to know what happened in there."

She sniffled, shaking her head as well.

Joel sighed in frustration.

He watched her eyes fill with tears again at his sigh. "Oh, honey. I didn't mean to-"

"-Plea…please don't hurt me, Joel…"

"W…what? Y/N, I'm not gonna hurt you."

She was insistent, "p..promise me?"

He nodded without thought. "I'd promise you anything you wanted. You know that."

She seemed to accept his words.

But Joel saw the way the shine in her eyes dulled away.

…

"They had a guitar in that RV," Joel stated as they walked, "It was all smashed up but got me thinkin'. Maybe I should find one. I haven't played in forever."

Ellie nodded, following along with his trail of thoughts.

"In fact," he continued, "I was thinking maybe I could teach you. I bet you'd be great at it. Do you wanna learn how to play guitar?"

But she had turned her attention to Y/N, who walked on the other side of Joel like a skeleton that hadn't seen daylight.

Y/N was slowly turning into a shell.

"…Ellie?" Joel questioned.

"Oh, yeah. That sounds really cool." She nodded. 

The three continued to walk. The man and girl occasionally threw worried looks at the other for the woman.

But neither of them knew what to do.

…

"I get you up there, you can drop that ladder down, maybe we go through that way. C'mon, I'll give you a boost."

But Ellie was distracted again.

Joel approached her again, following her eye line to see her staring at Y/N again.

The woman was sat on a crate nearby. 

Her eyes never left Joel's frame, despite the empty look in her eyes. 

Only then did Joel notice the hollowness of her cheeks.

The dark bags under her eyes.

The constant shivering of her entire body despite being fully dressed in 80 degree weather.

She hadn't spoken since the initial moment with him in the RV.

And that was a few days ago.

Ellie turned, "Boost. Got it."

When Joel moved to boost Ellie up, he saw Y/N slowly stand. He stopped her, "Hey, honey. You stay there. Just a minute."

When she said nothing, he took that as an answer.

He boosted Ellie up with relative ease.

She picked up the ladder, but got distracted and dropped it, "Woah…"

It crashed on the floor loudly, making Y/N flinch terribly.

"Goddammit, Ellie!" Joel grumbled.

He turned back to his woman, "Sweet girl?"

She said nothing, her gaze already on him. 

"Let's go up, yeah? Can we do that?"

She let out a soft sigh and stood.

…

It took the two a while to catch up to Ellie, but when they did, they were in awe.

Well, Joel was.

A giraffe at eye level.

He turned back to Y/N, "C'mon." And he offered his hand to her.

But she only stared at it.

He sighed and nodded, walking to Ellie alone.

Y/N watched from behind as they began to feed it.

She had been fighting with her mind.

She looked at the two in front of her. Her family. She knows them. She knows she does. She feels safe with them, but her mind only replays David's words and actions in her head.

And she was scared that he was right.

The giraffe began to walk away, and Ellie was determined to follow it. "C'mon, c'mon!" 

Joel sighed and turned to follow her, walking to Y/N. He offered his hand once more.

She stared at it.

Then slowly took it.

Joel smiled as their fingers intertwined carefully.

…

The three stood on a balcony, taking in the fresh air.

Y/N sat on the opposite end, needing some time to herself.

"Look," Joel sighed at Ellie, "I don't know where this hospital is-"

"We'll find it."

"Sure," he nods, "It's just… Maybe there's nothing bad out there, but so far, there's always been something bad out there… We don't have to do this. I just want you to know that."

Ellie scoffed, "What do you mean? What else are we supposed to do?"

"Nothing. We go back to Tommy's. We forget about the whole damn thing."

Ellie stared at him in disbelief, "After everything we've been through. Everything I've done… What Y/N did… It can't be for nothing."

Joel felt his jaw clench in thought.

"I know you mean well," Ellie smiled, "I know you wanna protect me. You have. And when we're done, we'll go wherever you want. Tommy's, sheep ranch, the moon… I'll follow you anywhere you go."

Joel laughed under his breath.

"But," she continued, "There's no halfway with this. We finish what we start."

He finally nodded, "Alright."

"And," Ellie pointed at him, "When were you going to tell her about her son?"

Joel froze, "…w…what?"

"I read the note, Joel. I know."

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, "I will. I was gonna. But… I can't tell her anytime soon. Not in her state."

Ellie nodded.

"Tell me, Ellie… what do you think happened to her exactly?"

The girl sighed, "Joel, you know what probably happened. You're not stupid."

He nodded. "Guess I was just hoping you'd have something positive to say."

She gave a sad smile, "Not about this."

Joel let his eyes wander over to Y/N's meek frame.

The things he would do for her.

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

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje, @ashleyfilm, @darling-imobsessed

[johnwickb1tsch]

THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 9 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

PART 9

Johnwickb1tsch:

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget. 

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that. 

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle. 

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money.  “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again. 

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table. 

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know. 

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now. 

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.” 

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown. 

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason. 

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him. 

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed. 

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him. 

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each. 

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room. 

Not now. 

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.  

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another. 

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick. 

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself. 

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair. 

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.  

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces. 

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him. 

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat. 

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him. 

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.” 

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant. 

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him. 

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

The first signs of dawn begin to show on the dark sky, timid but consistent in pushing back the darkness previously reigning over the sky when you open your eyes-- blinking lazily as you register your dry lips and slightly open mouth. You feel parched, but the arms wrapped around you feel like a slice of heaven by your side and you are too lazy, too sleepy. You try to ignore it but your throat feels like it would scream for water any minute.

Sighing, you gently remove Constantine's arms from your body, not an easy task though-- his arms are firm vines around you, holding you close with a distinct gentleness that you've seen so often in his eyes when they gaze at you.

After you are finally off the bed without waking up Constantine (you're surprised), you tip-toe out of the room and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of water.

It's quiet, you notice as you gulp down a glass of water. With the overpowering sleepy haze gone, you grow more conscious of the environment.

Such an hour is supposed to be quiet. But there is a severe lack of tranquillity in the quietness--- it's more of a deafening silence. And you do not have a good feeling about this. Emptying the glass, you put it silently aside and turn around to rush return to the safety of---

Your eyes widen as you blink away the reminder of sleepy haze from them at the sight of John Wick's looming form in the kitchen doorway.

lo spettro

Indeed, he is like a ghost who appears right when you least expect it to. Though at the moment, he looks more like a formidable predator-- or maybe it is you who feels threatened like a prey.

Whatever it is, it does not settle easily in your stomach. There's chaos, flipping and swirling in there. All are born out of jarringly conflicted emotions and thoughts you feel simultaneously.

You stand still, eyeing him warily. He isn't dressed in his classic three-piece. In fact, he is in simple trousers a white t-shirt, that bulges at all the right places. No, he isn't dressed to hunt, but he seems very much ready to with the way his eyes are set upon you. You know the stare all too well. The thought brings back memories that are now the source of your heartache and you stiffen again.

"Had a busy night with your plaything?"

Ah, of course...

"He's not a plaything." You snap without a second thought.

John smiles faintly, but there is no softness to it. Instead, it looks sharp and somehow feels bitter as he diminishes the distance between you both in two strides.

"Was he good enough? Better?" He invades your personal space as smoothly as he invades your dreams.

This time though, you are determined not to back down and bend to his will. You stand-- stiff and with your heart hammering-- but you are determined to not let it show.

"Our bedroom is none of your business."

Oh, you know the way his chocolate orbs darken. Your words have ruffled him. He presses closer and you know, you just know that he can feel your heartbeat, but there is nowhere else to go, and you are sandwiched between the counter and him.

"Yeah? That's a pity, thought I could show this boy how it's done."

You glare up at him.

The audacity.

If this is a game of riling you up, he was unfortunately winning. But being away from them and being with Constantine has evolved you in ways you are thankful for. You are not going to bend easily under his games anymore.

Your glare charges into a sardonic smile--

"Oh, don't bother. It is blissful when you don't feel like a disposable toy."

To a degree, even you are surprised at the venom in your voice. But the surprise is overshadowed by the sight of John Wick faltering. You admit, the sadness do not make you happy, but having gained power in the conversation does satisfy you.

"I am exhausted after a long so..."

With that, you slip away from him and walk back to the safety of your bedroom, there is a rush in your steps, and the moment you lock the door from inside, relief floods withing you.

A part of this whole encounter reminds you of your childhood ritual of switching off the lights before running upstairs to the safety of your room-- but as a child, it was just your active imagination, right now, your heart thunders the same way it would as a five-year-old, running from the 'ghosts'.

Constantine calls your name lazily from the bed, eyes half-open and hair dishevelled. There is a certain domesticity in the air and your heart unexpectedly flutters-- not an anxious, thrilled flutter, but one that confirms what you are afraid to admit.

You fear losing this. This sight of Constantine laying so unguarded, so vulnerable and open on the bed. You are afraid to not feel his arms wrapped around you again. You are afraid not to feel his lips on you another morning.

You are afraid to lose him.

You are afraid to be abandoned again.

In your fear, you find courage. The courage to finally acknowledge this fear of losing him, losing what you both share.

Silently, you make your way back to bed, slipping under the covers and back in his waiting arms.

You know Constantine can probably sense the shift in your energy, but he chooses silence. He puts your comfort before his curiosity, his doubts. That makes you snuggle closer to him, to his warmth.

Tammykelly:

Songs to get in ya feels:

Karma by Summer Walker

Stand still by Sabrina Claudio

You lay awake under the silk covers, with Constantine quietly breathing beside you in a deep peaceful slumber. You shift your focus to his pace of breath so you can match your own in hopes to fall into the calmness of the space bubble around you. The limbs of your body are heavy, and yet your mind is ever so awake, having drifted towards conscious awareness of bitterly sweetened memories, rather than much needed sleep. Your eyelids flutter shut, as a yet another frustrated sigh escapes your mouth. The silence of the late hours is mockingly embracing the racing thoughts in your mind and pumping heartbeat, uncomfortable heat continues to fill every particle under your skin, amplified by the feel of rushing bloodstream, as if no concept of rest exists in this moment. A small furry body curls itself closer, next to your side, and your hand slowly reaches to brush its fingers through Baby Killy’s soft fur, more purring gently filling your ears, as you give into what your subconscious can’t seem to stop replaying, guided by the whisper of the shadows.

- a flashback -

You feel a warm breeze rush past you, carrying the salty scent of the Mediterranean coast, disrupting the shattered shadows. A tiny glimpse of sunlight pervades through the thin crack between your eyelashes, your narrowed eyes taking in the sunny serenity of French Riviera that envelops you again in its natural flow and beauty, before you hear a stream of rapid gunshots that only alert a flock of birds, rising from your garden.

You watch a tall man’s broad back stiffen, as he reloads the gun. You lazily get up, not taking your eyes off his powerful muscles moving under the skin, as he takes the position again. You feel your chest contract, breath caught in your throat, as his whole body seems to have become one with the weapon at the highest alert, before all the motion subsides, and he fires more shots at the moving targets.

You’re not sure whether it’s the thumping of your heart, ringing in your ears, bringing rising heatwave to your body, or it’s the sun that collects the multitude of nervous specks across your subconscious, melting them through all the layers onto the surface, forming a deeper shade of blush on your cheeks. He looks majestic, engulfed by sunlight, a gun in his hand, akin to an innate extension of his hunter-like, perhaps, hereditary nature. Your gaze traces the sweat dripping down his skin, as a gentle sigh leaves your lips, making it hard for you to look back up.

You don’t try to make your presence known, the sound of your steps remaining almost entirely silent, for even your slightest movement echoes through his awareness. He turns around before you reach him, his long hair sticking out from under the bandana.

“Princessa”, - his deep voice greets you.

“John”, - you playfully reply, watching his eyes wash over your silhouette, while you take one more step.

“Skuchala po mne [missed me]?”, - his calloused palm makes contact with the exposed skin below your silk bralette, hiding under unbuttoned oversized linen dress shirt. His fingers snake around your waist, urging you to move closer, slightly dipping under the waistband of your linen shorts. A shiver across your skin doesn’t escape his attentive gaze, a smirk quirking the corners of his mouth up. You look into his eyes, as you feel his hand brush against your back gently, the same fingers that were just holding a weapon, now playing a dirty game against you.

“Vsegda [always]”, - you tease back, your irises catching the way John smiles when you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him, as he melts into your lips, meeting you half way. The scales of gentle and sweet is something you’re unable to control anymore, for the tender anxiety in your heart flutters away with the wings of passionate fire that is the reflection of him.

One of your hands finds its place at the back of his neck, pulling him into you, which he eagerly complies to, as if pouring all the adrenaline of the practice shooting onto your tongue. You gently trail your fingers down his spine, as you break away from his devilish lips, a sly smirk that is a mirror of his, appearing on your features when he lifts you up, walking to the tent, and puts you at the edge of a poolside bed that actually looks like it belongs in a bedroom.

You calmly stare into the abyss of his dark eyes, your chest filled with the scent of excitement and your own game that quickly escalates to something entirely else the longer you hold eye contact. A different kind of heat knocks on your heart, opening doors to a more subliminal feeling. The type of warmth produced not by the midday sunlight, but by the golden hour sun, its muted colors appearing the brightest only for a slight sight, before its remnants reveal their beauty along the way of one’s attention.

His eyebrows twitch, while his eyes search yours.

“Opasnaya igra, malyshka [it’s a dangerous game, babygirl]”, - John says in a raspy voice, seeing the way you let him read you, akin to an open book with no secrets.

“Rasve ya dolzhna boyatsa [why, should I be afraid?” - your hand grazes his cheek, as a feeling that is bigger than your heart settles down in your chest, upon relishing the way he’s sitting in front of you on his knees, looking up at you, as if you’re God’s greatest creation. The fear and sense of uncertainty long forsaken in the tangled forest of what’s left behind.

“No”, - he tells you, his hands on your thighs, “if that’s what you wish for”. A moment passes in between the eternity that stretches across your souls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever hugged you, have I?”, you tell him, suddenly, his fingers freeze in their place. John’s eyes go blank for a split second, before another emotion replaces it, something deep and so raw, your heart almost explodes. An emotion that is swept away by the ever flowing current when his irises go back to that same deep shade of darkness that is the palette of his whirlpool.

“Come here”, you tell him, your hand gently tugging at him. A shallow breath of his doesn’t dissolve away unnoticed, as you get up and switch positions, him - sitting on the bed, you - standing in between his legs, holding his face and stroking his sharp cheekbones. There’s no sense of reality anymore, just his black chocolate eyes, looking up with the devotion of a man found. Time stood still, its heartbeat paving the way just for you two.

You feel him slowly moving closer, as if testing the limits of his own game of chess, before he nuzzles into you. You wrap your arms around him, patting him with all the gentle love you can master, as if not to break a wounded child. Gradually, you sense his calmness unravel itself when his body melts into yours, drinking every bit of peace that you generously get to offer.

A tear rolls down your cheek, the space around you collapsing on itself and blossoming into an eternal tangible softness that revolves around you and John.

John sighs, pulling you closer, letting every piece of your ethereal gentleness and love that is the reflection of you seep into him, beyond the subliminal, into the deepest infinity of his oblivion that is the code of his own sense of self.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You wake up with a startled gasp, giving Killy the same little fright. She runs away, bells dangling at her neck, the sound fading underneath the bed where she hides from you.

“Killy,” you groan, “I’m sorry, come back.” You wish you could actually tell her in some way you didn’t mean to scare the shit out of her, but it’s too late. And Constantine is gone, too. There’s a little note on the stand. Something about having to run out for a while on a job.

It’s around noon. Your black out curtains can’t contain all of the leaking sunshine, so you decide to follow that biological clock that runs deep and get up. John isn’t here, either, and Tex is snoring on the couch.

“Tex,” you whisper, nudging him a little bit.

His groggy voice sends a pang of reminiscent longing through you. “Hey, honeypie.” He fades out a little bit, and you have to tug on his arm. “You’re snoring,” you tell him, trying to get another pillow under his head to elevate him. “You don’t snore. Sit up a little bit.” You’re worried that he’s not getting proper oxygen while he’s sleeping because of his recent brush with death, so you use most of your weight and a little bit of his to sit him up and lessen the deep rattle of his throat.

“C’mon,” he lays a big arm around your shoulders, tugging your upper torso down against him. “Lay with daddy, huh?”

You push against him. “Tex, you freaking weirdo, lemme go.” The temptation is definitely there, to crawl on top of him and snuggle in, but you’ve already committed to waking up and doing something on this lazy weekend day, so you squirm out of his heavy grip.

He goes back to sleep with a big, satisfied smile on his face. You resist, with all your might, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Adorable fucking idiot.

You make scrambled eggs, plate some for Tex, and leave them in the fridge for when he wakes up. Then, you get a piece of paper, write SCRAMBLED EGGS on it in big letters, and set it on his now peacefully rising chest.

It’s beautiful out here today, sunny with a tropic, warm breeze that reminds you of beachy days with John and Tex. Although the beach is about 30 minutes away by bus, you hop on with a little bag in tow, sporting cute cotton capris and a flowy tank top over your swim suit.

You spend a few hours at the beach, walking up and down the sand, looking at shells, playing in waves and watching the surfers board out past the break. There’s a little food and drink stand nearby, and you packed plenty of sunscreen, so you can stay out as long as you like.

You enjoy this as long as you can, because you have classes coming up and know you won’t get the free time again until next weekend.

You feel free-untethered. Able to go anywhere and do anything without anyone holding you down. There was such a long time, where you didn’t have that freedom. Over half your life, probably, between childhood and witness protection, where you were trapped. And, now that you have a taste of independence, you’ll never stop injecting it. Of course, with this freedom comes a little emptiness, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’ve been lonely before, you’ll be lonely again.

Maybe that’s an absurd thought, when three men are waiting for you at home, and for a minute you feel terribly, achingly guilty about wanting freedom and love, protection, shelter-all at the same time. Sometimes women don’t get any of that let alone one. But then, that’s bullshit, isn’t it? The notion that you have to settle and compromise just because you’re a girl. Maybe you want all three of them-no, not maybe. You do want all three, and your independence. And maybe if testosterone wasn’t such a heavy drug, you could mention that to them. But you can already just see John strangling Constantine with his bare hands and Constantine burning John alive if you even dare to mention them sharing you.

Plus, would you even be able to handle all three of them? John and Constantine themselves are insatiable; Constantine, fueled by ancient magic. John, fueled with physical endurance. Tex would be simpler to please, but he’s a wild card of his own.

A group of surfers ride a wave in to shore, and you watch curiously-maybe even a little bit enviously-as they laugh and joke and splash each other in the pink sinking dawn of the day. One of them-tall, broad shouldered, bronze, the god Poseidon himself rising from the frothy ocean bank-makes eye contact with you and you look away quickly, a hot flush that’s not from the late sun flooding your skin.

“Y/n?” You look to the sound, and see a familiar face among the group of ocean dwellers.

Katrina gives you a little wave while she climbs out of one. You tip your chin at her. “Hey, Trine.” She’s one of your classmates, a good friend and study partner. You had no idea that she surfed.

She introduces you to her little group of friends, and one in particular’s name you know you haven’t forgotten. His grin is stark white against beautiful, salt crusted skin when he takes your hand in his bigger one, warm despite the cool water he just rose from, and shakes it. “We meet again.”

“Hey, we were just gonna go to Bodhi’s house for a party. Wanna come?” Trina pulls you from Johnny, giving you a strange, knowing look. You were absolutely entranced by him, staring way too much, still holding onto his hand, so you understand why she’s a little suspicious.

“You alright?” Johnny asks, bringing you back to him.

“Don’t think so,” you say, feeling like you’re absolutely dying.

Now everyone absolutely notices this strange tension between the two of you, and they seem delighted by it. Bodhi, you think his name is, grabs Johnny’s shoulder and shakes him a little. “Utah, you dog. Close your jaw.”

“Seriously, Johnny, stare a little longer,” Trine grumbles.

“Sorry,” he tells you sheepishly.

“Same,” you reply.

“So, you wanna come?” He asks, motioning to the group. “To the party?”

“I would, but I have to take care of something.”

You propel yourself through the darkening LA streets, the bus system, the crowds of people, the bustle of the city. Keep your eyes ahead, focused, goal driven. The big Bouncer in front of Midnite’s is the only thing that stands in your way to the inner club.

He holds up a card, prompting you. Fuck. You have never come here without John. Probably because he forbid it, but that’s beside the point. You have no idea what to say, so you just do what you’re best at and guess. “Rabbit?”

His facial expression reads “are you fucking kidding me?” All he says is “no.”

“Please. I need to see Midnite. It’s about John Constantine.”

He eyes you for a long while, and then motions for you to sit on the bench in the lobby.

•

“How’s my favorite girl?” Midnite takes a seat beside you. “What kinda shit did Constantine get into this time?”

“it’s actually my shit.”

He laughs. “Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean, really, I think there’s something strange happening, Papa. Everywhere I go, doesn’t matter how far, I see this… guy.”

“You have a spirit following you?” He asks, scanning your body with an open palm, tilting your chin this and that way.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is-what he is, but there’s many of them. They all look the same.”

“The same? I’m confused, y/n.”

“They all look like… John Constantine.”

•

“Tex, wake up.” John kicks the couch lightly, alerting the snoring Tex.

“What the fuck.” Tex groans.

“Where’s y/n?”

Constantine has tried to call you ten times, texted you at least twice as much, and still no answer. He’s pacing through the kitchen, hand in his hair, debating on whether or not he should tear down LA to find you. You’re never gone this long, you always keep him updated. This isn’t like you.

He walks into the living room, where Tex and John are looking at the note you left alerting Tex to breakfast.

“You just let her go?” Wick demands of Tex, snatching the slice of paper and tearing it in the process. “When did she leave?”

“Fuck, I didn’t think we were dictating her life anymore,” Tex replies, “she came out here once… I think. It was daylight. I was sleepin. Fuck.”

“She always comes home,” Constantine says, more to himself than the two other men. “It’s almost one AM. We have to find her.”

“Tex, are you able to drive?” Wick asks.

“Yeah.. yeah. I’m good,” Tex nods.

“Take the car, go to her school, her bank, her favorite restaurant. Constantine?” Wick turns to address the still pacing man. “Are you able to try and locate her with some kind of magic?”

“The fuck you think I’m trying to do?” Constantine mumbles, eyes on the floor, hand in his hair, damp sweat gathering on his tshirt.

“Keep doing it. I’m going to look on foot.”

•

Maybe it was a bad idea, to drink with Midnite. Not because of him. The morally grey, powerful voodoo master has never been anything but good to you despite his wavering tolerance for Constantine, and he stays by your side diligently while you both sip on steaming, sweetened cocktails.

No, it’s a bad idea because of the shady characters lurking around you and making you feel a little like you just stepped into Mickey’s House of Villians. The lady with purple, slithery tentacles attached to her just seals the deal on that.

Midnite flips over your other divination card, the gold foils of it catching a rogue neon light and flashing bright in your eyes, before you see what it holds; 10 of spiders. “Something is tightly attached to you, something that draws dark energy. I could see it when we first met, you know. Just like the curse on Texs’ chest made him vulnerable to the wicked dark, you have naturally.”

“I’m so confused. Why?” Your words come out a little slurred, and you realize you’ve been hitting the tap too hard. This is your fifth… fourth cocktail? You’re not sure anymore. “Am I in danger?”

He looks at you with a bit of pity in his fathomless dark eyes, like he doesn’t know what to do for you. Like you’re fucked. “Always.”

Before he can elaborate, give you a warning or message, something, a heavy commotion picks up at the front entrance. Glass smashing, screaming, pounding on something metal and floppy. Midnite sighs and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Stay here. I have to deal with this.”

You ask the bartender for a glass of water to help nurse and coat the alcohol sloshing inside of you and making you pleasantly numb and prickly, and try to ignore the other patrons of the club. Kind of hard when one of them, one you very well recognize, takes the stool beside you.

“Where’s your tall friend?” The succubus asks, those bleach pink eyes doing strange, unearthly things in their sockets; changing shape, reflecting colors that usually don’t exist, sliding from side to side rapidly.

“He’s taken,” you tell her, not bothering to hide the scowl on your face.

“Really?” She asks, voice unnaturally low and seductive, titling her head. “Because I could feel the desperation on him from a league away. Most taken men with that kind of need aren’t satisfied at all.”

“I’m not entertaining this conversation,” you tell her. You remember all the anger you felt toward her after she tried to pull Tex away, and wonder where it is now that you need it. Instead, there is a dull, needy, perplexing throb beginning in your lower belly. It’s a strange way to feel arousal, but unmistakable nonetheless. Usually, all libidinous feelings begin in your brain and trickle downward, but this feeling is severed from your mind, spreading through only your lower body and making you twitch and writhe in the seat.

She grins with sharp little bone white teeth. “Interesting.”

You try and open your mouth, tell her to fuck off, but she reaches over and touches your cheek, and any words you could have said die in your throat.

Replacing speech and sense and sight, is a burly heat that rips through you. A desire like you’ve never felt. A claw-your-skin-off, teeth clenching need to be fucked. Debauched. Ruined.

An inner beast guides your way, now, and she’s hungry for cock. Luckily, there’s some place you can get it. Unluckily, it’s a few bus rides away. And you can’t fucking last that long, that’s for sure.

gif from pinterest

You stand up, make for the door, and run into something solid and familiar and warm. Just seeing his angled face make your clit tighten painfully, your cunt flutter around nothing. You jump him. He can fucking take it, and he does, handling you like a champ while you claw up his body and latch onto his mouth with your own.

John Wick doesn’t stop you. Maybe it’s the vicious arousal leaking off you that infects him, too. Or maybe it’s because he missed you, needed you that bad. Either way, he’s kissing you back, picking you up, walking you toward the nearest private place to fuck in, hopefully….

[runnning-outof-time]

[imagines pt.2]

MAIN MASTERLIST

Imagines Masterlist — Part 1

Last Updated: 11/21

** ALL stories are written with a Fem!Reader! **

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

All works are my own - I do not give consent to the reposting of them in any form.

——— (listed oldest -> newest) ———

— I’m Not Gonna Leave You: (Y/N)'s still having trouble with getting past her husband's injuries. Tommy assures his wife that he's not planning on leaving any time soon.

— Is That How You Remember It?: (Y/N) finds some discrepancies in the story of how they first met that Tommy tells their children…so she decides to give her own rendition of the story.

— A Call For Help…: Tommy tries to find a way to better an old flame’s current situation while also hoping to make her aware of the fact that things have changed since they last saw each other. (written through letters)

— At the Last Possible Minute: Shocked by Tommy's decision to go fight in France, (Y/N) holds all of her emotions in until the last possible minute.

— Beach Day: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt. (Modern AU)

— Back To Her: It’s been years since Tommy and (Y/N) have last seen each other…will it be a bad thing now that he’s finally found his way back to her?

— Worth Breaking Plans For: Tommy Shelby never thought he'd willingly go to see a ballet…that was until he found out that (Y/N) was performing in one. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) never thought she was someone worth breaking plans for…that was until Tommy came into her life.

— Sentimental: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before. (daughter!reader)

— Thinkin’ ‘Bout Forever: (Y/N) asks Tommy a question that’s been burning in her brain for the longest time. She gets a rather surprising response.

— The Brother That Always Wins: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

— Birthdays Are Better In Bed: (Y/N) starts her birthday off in the best way possible: in bed with her family.

— There’s Something About These Grounds…: Mrs Shelby takes a walk and stumbles upon a dark secret that is hidden on the grounds of Arrow House. She's given a warning about the future of her family, a warning that makes her new husband wonder if she should even leave the house at all.

— The Devil’s Voice: Tommy meets a woman at a crossroads who agrees to help him execute his business.

— Change His Ways: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.

— A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that? (daughter!reader)

— You Asked, I Answered: After finally working up the courage to do so, (Y/N) confesses something she's been hiding from her best friend. Tommy answers in the most Tommy way possible. (friend!reader)

— A Special Woman: (Y/N)’s big day is made extra special by one of the most important people in her life.

— Up Until You: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

— Talk of the Town: (Y/N)'s had enough of the whispering that always seems to happen when she's out and around Small Heath.

— Some Calm in the Midst of War: (Y/N) meets a soldier in a club. Not wanting to let go of this taste of calm amidst all of the chaos, they extend their moment of revelry into something a bit longer. (wartime)

— The Special Touch: A small, small detail brings back memories of a person in Tommy Shelby’s life that was able to do something not many can.

— “You Came.” “You Called.”: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

———

divider by @/firefly-graphics

[weebsinstash]

So we agree, the Spot is just as fuckable as Miguel. These two are both incredible, just both at INSANELY opposite ends of the spectrum. Like I want Miguel to breed me, where as I feel like I want the same with Spot just where I’m more the dom? Idk tho, Spot at the end of the movie def would go back to his s/o’s apartment while waiting for Miles, def would be hate fuckin you con or noncon style, but would also def be so apologetic after he had cum a couple times

Spot who hates Miles Morales so fucking much because he not only caused him to mutate in the collider incident but the accident killed his s/o/crush (you) and now it's like "oh, hey, this is funny but, would you believe me if I said we used to date? Ha ha anyways i was thinkin we could pick up where we left off :)" And maybe he's either telling the truth or he's full on delusional, thinking you two were in love and "sending all kinds of passionate signals" when in reality you were just like, being a respectful coworker and being polite to him and shit you'd be pretty uh in danger if his original you survived and became some sort of multiverse jumping being as well because then he's, you know, CHASING YOU, he thought you had been gone forever, he thought he had lost everything in his life important to him, literally everything, his own physical body becoming unrecognizable, unable to have love, respect, even just a normal life, truly becoming a broken man, but here you are, still left behind, maybe even just as he remembers you visually

I saw a post saying he has Sans energy and it's like. Yeah actually. Funny Little Man Energy. Except The Spot is kind of a poor little wet cat out in the rain who's a lil pathetic tbh and Sans is like a sarcastic troll in a non serious well intentioned way but, the Energy is similar kwim.

Jonathan just being like half apologetic half self indulgent freak the whole time

God. Fucking. Just picture this. The whole thing happens to him, you know, the movie stuff, he's out for revenge, constantly disrespected by Miles, other villains, he lost his entire way of living a normal life, literally, he doesn't even have the peace of having a normal body anymore, AND he lost his beloved "fiance" in the accident and he's just absolutely going insane and he finds you again, YOU you, HIS you, somehow survived, and he goes to you to speak to you AND YOURE JUST LIKE "WAIT WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU" he was just projecting the whole time and you're confused and it just shatters his fantasy but you know what he decides he should get whatever he wants now, take whatever he wants, his powers open all kinds of doors, and he'll make this universe the one where he has you

Also if Spot doesn't have genitals or maybe you're using like, the Wookie rule I think is rhe term for it, he could literally get you any kind of toy or anything from anywhere. He could do ANYTHING to you, watch anything happen to you, use Any kind of gadget on you that he wanted in place of whatever he may be missing. Since he only has so many physical capabilities, he might as well get his pleasure in the satisfaction and pride of bringing you to, like, orgasmic insanity

Miguel just. God I have a draft for him, right, based off of the concept of Reader slowly kind of being pushed to a mental breaking point by Miguel pushing them to do a specific job in the Spider Society only THEY can do, and he's pushing you and telling you its for the greater good because it does legitimately hold the multiverse together, it keeps people from breaking canon, it's a memory wiping thing, but it's emotionally and mentally taxing on you and the nature of the job makes you a social pariah and, it's a struggle of wanting to hate and refuse him for pressuring you into all this when you actually WANT to trust him as your friend and leader and even want to love him vs also he's lowkey taking advantage of the stress the job causes on you so he can be the only one there to support you when you're in crisis mode cause, yeah its for the greater good, and gosh he hates seeing you cry such big fat tears, but it IS so nice to get to be the one to hold you when you're so desperate for some kind of anchor and support that you hug him. God I bet hugs from him are something else....

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 36

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

"Harley?"

Merle. It's Merle!

My voice comes out as a screeching cry — "Merle!" — like I've just watched him get shot at the climax of some dramatic movie, before I'm breaking free of Glenn and crashing into my Uncle's arms, and he's warm like the Georgia sun around me and he's alive.

"Holy shit," I hear him rasp in my ear as he hugs me tight. I'm thinkin' the exact same thing! Holy shit!

"You're al— You're a—," I blubber, pulling my face away from his neck to look him in the eye. "You're alive!"

It's been a whole year since I last saw him, but almost nothing about him has changed. His face is broad and wrinkled by the sun, nose ugly and crooked from all those bar fights, and he's still got that look of a brute about him that my Dad never quite mastered.

He didn't die in Atlanta. He didn't die anywhere. He weren't layin' out on the concrete roof of a skyscraper, slathered in sweat and blood as the dead tore into him with wet fingers like greedy kids at a barbeque — Not like he was during so many late nights, dyin' over and over again in my nightmares — because he lived. I got no idea how, and I sure don't got no idea how I ever doubted him, neither.

"I sure am," He smirks, his dark blue eyes tinged with adrenaline.

He glances over my shoulder at Dad, chuckling to himself at the sight.

Dad hasn't moved. Not even an inch. He stands there, staring at us with that same look on his face as when he watched me step onto that frozen river last year, afraid for my life but without anything he could do to save me, help me, pull me back into safety.

His gaze darts between Merle's face and mine over and over again, as if he can't decide who to look at.

Why ain't he happy to see him?

Merle's chuckle dies away, leaving us in a terrible silence. I can't figure out what's wrong.

"I asked you nicely to drop yer shit," One of Merle's friends warns them. "Or did you forget?"

Reluctantly, Dad and Glenn throw their weapons aside, lifting their hands in surrender.

"Merle," Dad eventually says in greeting, tense and unfeeling, glancing at me once again. "Long time."

"Forever," He agrees. "And Harley's barely grown a hair's width, haven't ya, princess? Woof. What the Hell happened to yer hair?"

"It got a bunch'a blood in it, so I cut it all off and now I just keep it short. Daddy helps me." I giggle as he ruffles my hair, my gaze dropping down to his other hand — Or, well — Blade. He ain't got no hand at all. I gasp, "What the Hell happened to yer arm?"

"You like it, huh?" He lifts it up, the metal glinting just a few inches from my eye. "Fixed it up myself."

"Woah," I breathe, looking into my own pupil in the reflection.

"You can tell her all about it back in town," His friend with the brown skin angrily butts in. He shoves his gun at Dad and Glenn, his wavy, black hair suckered to his forehead with sweat as he sneers at them. "I know a few guys who'll wanna have a chat with these fucks!"

Merle lowers his blade as he stands to his full height. "Hold up, India. You're really gonna ruin my nice family reuni—?"

"I don't give a shit if it was Christmas, Merle. They gotta pay."

"Arjun's right." The other man steps forward, snatching the gun and knife from my holster and throwing them aside, making Dad and Glenn tense up, relaxing only slightly when he steps back. "They're comin' back with us. Frankly, whether you like it or not."

I don't know why, but I back away from Merle, slowly at first but then I'm running to hide behind my Dad.

What? Coming back with them?

Back, where?

I thought it was all just a big misunderstanding, and that now I got my Uncle here, everything's alright?

Uneasy, I glance at the dead man laying off to the side. His vacant eyes stare at the sky as his blood trickles out from around the bolt lodged between his eyebrows, slowly dripping into a big puddle on the tarmac. Eric, I think they called him.

"Are you serious?" Glenn exclaims in outrage. "We've got a kid! Merle, that's your niece!"

"Wanna tell me where you're holed up?" Merle asks, and when Glenn's stammering is met with a smug look of indifference, almost like he's bored, I realize he's not going to save us from this. This isn't a reunion anymore. "Didn't think so. Wherever you're set up, I'll bet'chu my other arm our place is ten times the fuckin' paradise. Just make this easy for us, man. Harley won't be in no typa trouble."

Peeping around my Dad, I look up at his face. "Daddy, what's goin' on?"

I don't wanna go nowhere with these people when the invite's like this. They're angry with us — Real angry.

Dad looks like he's about to explode. "Merle—"

"It's either that or the Indian and the fat-ass shoot us all in the head right now," He deadpans. "And while I wouldn't be too sad about Glenny here gettin' his shit rocked, I don't fancy it happening to you or Harley. Okay? C'mon. This is a favor, brother."

I look up at Dad again, but he's silent. What's gonna happen to us at Merle's paradise town?

Glenn takes a step forward. "You can't do thi—"

BANG.

His hands fly to his thigh. "Fuck!"

As Dad gasps, I squeal, "Glenn!"

He shot him!

"I'm not messin' around, cowboy," The white man snarls, marching forward and grabbing Glenn's arm. "Get movin'!"

We're leaving with them. We really are.

Dad quickly picks me up and protectively cups my head to his shoulder, his grip on me tight. I wrap my legs around his waist, not realizing how much I'd been wanting to be in his arms. Oh, my God. I know we killed their friend, but can't we just tell them we're sorry? It was in self-defence, and nobody alive this far into the end of the world ain't done it at least once. We were only here for baby formula.

Dad grunts as the Indian man shoves us forwards with his gun, the sound of Glenn struggling to walk behind us.

He needs a doctor. We can't run away even if we wanted to, not when he's like this. That man knew that when he shot him.

Merle's laughing his ass off. "Holy shit, Boyd! Ya ain't have to shoot him!"

"Whatever, Merle. Just get the keys outta my pocket 'fore I shoot you, too. You're drivi— Shit!"

Mouse suddenly lunges at him, biting onto his ankle and shaking his head from side to side, growling nastily.

"Shit! Shit, get him off!" He cries out as Merle rears his leg back and kicks the dog in the face.

Yelping, Mouse backs off before a couple gunshots split the tarmac around him and he turns on his heel, scampering away through the trash and litter. My heart jumps and sinks at the same time, watching him disappear into the trees with his tail tucked.

I feel Dad's muscles tense under me.

Lowering his gun, Merle calls out after him, "Scram, poochie!"

"Shit, that hurts," Boyd winces down at his blood-soaked jeans, shoving Glenn forward. "Hurry it up. I got a date with the med bay."

"It's gonna be okay, chicken," My Dad's mumbling into my ear as we all make our way across the parking lot, fingers squeezing the back of my neck. "I can feel yer little heart racin'. It's gonna be okay. Me and Glenn and Merle ain't gonna let nothin' happen to you."

Merle said this was a favor. If we told them where the prison was, we'd be leading a bunch of angry people right to our family, and they might want to take our food or our beds or even our lives, just like those people that Jim was with who threatened the Greene farm. If we just let them take us to their paradise instead, then maybe— Maybe they can sort this out? They won't shoot us all in the head?

"Where are we goin'?" I mumble into my Dad's shirt, watching the forest shrink behind us. "I don't wanna go."

"I know ya don't, chicky. Me, neither." He steps up onto the curb of the pavement, then back down on the other side and through the main parking lot, approaching their car. The man keeps his gun on us as he pulls the passenger door open. "But it's gon' be okay."

"Shut up and take shotgun," The man nods at the seat. "Your kid can sit in your lap."

Without answering, Dad climbs into the car, door slamming shut behind us. I watch over his shoulder as Glenn is forced into the middle of the back seats, his face wrung in pain, his fingers curled around the blood gushing from his thigh. Arjun and Boyd take a seat on either side of him, the fatter man shoving him upright before pointing his gun at the back of Dad's head, scaring me into looking away.

"We're gonna take a little drive," Merle sighs as he swings into the driver's seat and pulls his door shut.

He twists the keys into the ignition, engine rumbling to life.

As he peels outta the car park, Glenn's pained groans growing louder by the second, I wonder where that beetle went.

We end up at a checkpoint gate.

Merle's got his window rolled down and he's chatting it up with another one of his scary-lookin' friends, who I guess is a guard. They're talking about work schedules and other gossip, until Glenn makes a loud noise and he bothers to ask who we are. Oh, that's the guy from my old group up in Atlanta, he's telling him, And my brother and his daughter. My niece. I told you about her. Can you believe it? I ain't really listenin'. I'm looking out at the tall walls of sheet-metal, the barbed wire curled along the top of it, the people holding big guns up in the tower, spitting on the ground and smoking while they stare down at us with loose smirks. Somehow, it feels a little like the prison.

"No shit?" The guard eventually exclaims with a grin. "Hey, congrats, man. That's some crazy luck you got."

As he looks us over, twiddling his fingers in greeting, I feel my Dad's grip on me tighten before Merle pulls his attention back. "You're tellin' me, man. But listen. We gotta head on down to the blocks — Tell ya about it later — so get Philip for me, will ya?"

"Sure. I'll radio him," He nods. "But, yo? Where's Eric at?"

"Just open the fuckin' gates, Mendoza," Boyd snaps, pressing his gun harder to Glenn's temple. "I'm gettin' impatient."

The guard makes a shrugging gesture before he takes a step back, whistling sharply at somebody. "Open up! They're good!"

"What the Hell are, 'the blocks', Merle?" Dad grits as the guards begin to pull the gate open and Merle drives through. All the barbed wire and metal walls fall away, revealing pretty town houses and flower beds lining the streets. Merle weren't lyin'. This place looks like— Well, it looks like paradise. It feels like we've gone back in time, to before all the blood and death and walkers. "What's the plan?"

"The blocks are where we put the undesirables." We pass a woman and a man walking together with a baby stroller and a cute little dog on a leash, and they're happy and clean, and I wonder if they know what 'the blocks' are. They look like all they gotta worry about is what they're gonna have for lunch. I also wonder where Mouse is right now. Poor little guy. "They're gonna question you and the Asian."

"His name is Glenn," I mumble unhappily, knowing nobody gives a shit. They shot him.

Dad scoffs. "Should'a known you wasn't gonna send him to a doctor. Y'all ain't the special-treatment type, is ya?"

"Fuck you, Merle," Glenn whines from the backseat. "Fuck you."

"W-wait," I frown. "Ya can't leave him like this, Merle. Herschel says it ain't right."

Merle shrugs. "Who's Herschel?"

"He's an animal doctor. And he says you always gotta take the bullet out, or it might not get better. Please?"

"Princess, I think what you're sayin' is adorable," He says as we turn a corner, the streets suddenly becoming a little duller — No flowers, less people, open dumpsters and construction cones lining the curb. "And I get it, but it's outta my hands, okay?"

"Well, can't ya at least give him a bandage?"

"What about Harley?" Dad cuts me off before I can argue any more. "She sure ain't goin' to no, 'block'."

"Hey. I'm stayin' with you," I turn to face him. If that's where he and Glenn are goin', that's where I'm goin'. I'on care if the blocks is where they put their 'undesirables'. I'll be an undesirable with them. I can't be on my own. "Daddy, I gotta stay with you."

He ignores me. "Merle?"

"I know she ain't. Don't worry," He reassures him, pulling in next to a half-built house. "She can stay in my apartment."

"Good," Dad slowly nods, but it's not good at all.

"No. Dad, don't leave m—"

"It's better this way. Okay?" He scolds me, brows raised as he waits for me to answer, but I know that look in his eyes. I know why his fingers are shaking. He's scared. I give nod, before he pulls me in for a hug. "Okay. So, shut up and give yer Dad a hug."

Merle cuts the engine off.

"We're here. Get out." Arjun shoves his door open and climbs out, pulling on Glenn's shirt. "I said, 'Get out'. Come on."

"Fuck you," He whines again.

Dad places a kiss to my hair, pulling away as Boyd rips our door open. "It's gonna be okay. I'mma see you soon."

I shake my head. "How you know?"

"I'mma make 'em."

"What's the matter, asshole?" Boyd taunts as Dad reluctantly climbs out, leaving me in his seat. "Never been to prison before?"

"Sure," Dad jokes, pinning the man with a unamused look. "I'm gettin' fuckin' deja vu."

The door slams in my face.

"Come along, then, tough guy."

It's gonna be okay, I repeat in my head as he shoves my Dad forward with his gun. I'mma see you soon.

I watch them go. I want so bad to run out and cling to my Dad's leg, so tight they'll have to let me stay with him, but I remember what he's always told me. Sometimes, little girls don't get what they want. It's always for my own good, so I bite my tongue as he and Glenn hobble down the steps of the building's cellar door, a cold sense of grief washing over me as the top of their heads disappear.

It's only now that I realize I don't even know where I am.

"You heard yer old man," Merle says to break the silence. "It's better this way."

It's like I'm back in the parking lot at Arrendale State Prison, sitting on Merle's hip while they take my Daddy away. That jury was just a bunch of pansies, princess, he told me, They don't get what it means to be a Dad. He's innocent.

"They're just gonna ask him a few questions," He tells me now. "Nothin' he can't handle."

"I wanna go with 'em," I murmur to myself, staring longingly at the closed cellar doors.

If it's just questioning, why can't I go, too?

"No, ya don't," He laughs a bit, twisting the keys into the ignition. "C'mon. Let's go kick back at Uncle Merle's place, huh? Like old times?"

I say nothing as he pulls into the street.

"It'll be fun. Ya still like Twinkies?"

The door to Merle's apartment closes behind me.

Dumping his backpack on the floor, Merle stretches his arms over his head, groaning as he meanders up to his kitchen cabinets.

"Got 'em stashed away up here somewhere."

"Woah," I mumble, looking around. "You live here?"

"Welcome to my humble abode," He chuckles to himself. "It ain't too big, but you won't hear me complainin'."

We ain't never had no apartment. Apartments are for hipsters and rich kids, as Dad liked to say, but it looks like Merle's been living it up since the world ended. I'm kinda jealous, but it ain't his fault I sleep in a cell and had to eat mushrooms for four months.

As he paws through his groceries, I head over to the lounge area, picking up the magazine laid out on the coffee table. The shiny lady on the cover smirks at me, and when I notice how she got no clothes on, I quickly drop her back down. The cashews scattered at my feet and the empty bag of crisps shoved under the sofa suddenly seem very interesting, and also the baseball bat laying across the cushions. Merle was never very good at cleaning up after himself. Turning away, I pass the dining table, approaching the open window.

Sunshine sweeps over me as I push the curtains aside. The street below is loud, busy, normal. A pair of ducks wade around in the still, green water of a stagnant fountain in the nearby gardens, one dunking its head under as an armoured truck drives by.

"There they are."

If Dad was here, he'd prolly tell me that joke about ducks I like — What time does a duck wake up? At the quack of dawn. We read that in a fortune cookie when he ordered Chinese food one night. I hope he and Glenn are alright, but I ain't so sure.

Merle drops the box of Twinkies on the table. "Here we go, princess. Sit down."

Turning away from the window, I take a seat opposite of him.

"Are those real?" I ask. "No way."

"You know you sound like some sorta feral animal, askin' all these questions." He throws one to me. "Yeah, they're real."

"Thanks, Uncle Merle."

"We got a lotta catchin' up to do. You gotta be nine by now, right?"

"Yeah, I think so!"

"So, little miss nine-years-old, wanna hear the rest of that story?" He grins, taking a Twinkie for himself.

Tearing the plastic open, I nod, taking a bite. "We all thought you was dead."

"So did I, girl." He jokes, shaking his head. "Oh, man, I thought I was dead. Weren't no way any old Joe was gonna get himself outta that pickle, but I ain't any old Joe, am I? Nah. I thought of you, I thought of yer Daddy, and I cut myself outta them cuffs."

"That's how ya lost yer hand?" I giggle in disbelief, earning myself a nod. "You crazy, Merle. Did it hurt?"

"'Course it hurt. But I got it cauterized, got it all bandaged up with my shirt. You know, y'all was gone, time I got back."

"Wait, what? So, we missed ya?"

"By at least a day, is my guess. Fires were cold. I found one of yer socks on the ground. Kept it with me for weeks."

Oh. My Uncle is a real asshole — He's exactly the typa person he used to pride himself on protecting me from — but I know he loves me. To think, if we'd left just a few days later than we did, he could'a been with us this whole time. I used to think about that every day. Things prolly would'a been worse with him around, sure, but he's family. You're supposed to stick around when things get worse.

"Sorry, Merle," I sigh, fiddling with the crumbs on the table. "We didn't wanna leave. Really. But we had to."

"Yeah," He sneers. "Was it Officer Friendly?"

"Nah, it was me." I admit. "I got real sick. We thought I got scratched by a walker and we went to the CDC."

He deflates a little. "Well, shit, huh? What happened?"

"It was like I was dyin'. Dad was angry at everybody. He broke a walkie. Turns out, I just had food poisonin' from some bad jerky Glenn made. Ain't nobody ever taught him how to cure meat properly, you know. After that, he was kind of our only friend."

"What, y'all like that little twerp, now?" He chuckles awkwardly, taking another bite of his Twinkie.

"Merle," I pause, a little embarrassed I have to say it out loud. "Merle, I like all of 'em, now."

It's been a year — A year.

I like Officer Friendly. His woman, Lori. I like the Asian, and the housewife, Carol. I like all of 'em. I don't know when it happened, or if I really had a choice in it, but everything is different now. Even if some things are still the same, like Merle.

That group is my family, but he don't need to know that. I know he'll just say call me brainwashed.

"And to be real honest," I reluctantly add, "They're prolly wonderin' where we are right now. Y'know?"

This Twinkie is nice and all; I'm finally back with my Uncle again. I even saw a dog on a leash. But I hope he don't think I want to stay here. It ain't really a paradise if my family ain't here with me, or if my Dad and my friend are locked up in a cellar right now, being questioned. I gotta go back to my real home sometime. I don't belong here. Ya don't belong in a place that you got taken to at gunpoint.

Merle looks down at his empty wrapper, wordlessly crumpling it in his hand. I can tell he's pissed off.

"How much do you like it here?" I ask, suggesting, "I know you got new friends and all, but what if you came back with us?"

"Baby, I got an inklin' that's not how any of this is gonna go down," Merle scoffs lightly. "I'm sorry, but it ain't."

"I—? I don't get it. Why not?"

Don't he wanna be with me and Dad?

"Think about what yer Dad said just now." He straightens, his metal blade clanking as he lays his arms on the table. "Things are better this way. We got running water here. Plumbing. Electricity. Hell, girly, I can even get'chu some of them Disney movies you like."

"I don't—"

"What was it again? Fox and the somethin'? Fox and the Hound? I can trade Patty for it. We can watch it tonight."

Swallowing the stale glob of Twinkie in my mouth, feeling it slide down my throat like tacky glue, I leave the last bite on the table.

"I don't know, Merle," I guiltily shrug. After a long, uncomfortable silence, I ask, "Can I have some water?"

He relents, sighing. "Sure, baby. Hang tight."

As he stands up to go back into the kitchen, I forget all about his promises of snacks and movies, thinking of my group back at the prison instead. They don't got no Twinkies, or TV, or my favorite movies, or even electricity, but I would still rather be there than here. There's gotta be some way I can convince Merle to leave this place with us. He must love us more than he loves his apartment.

I begin to wonder when we are actually leaving. They can't make us stay here, can they? This is just a visit?

Dad and Glenn are gonna get questioned for killing that man, Eric, and then Merle will vouch for us?

Either way, everybody must be worried about us. If not now, then definitely in a few hours from now when they realize we ain't came back. That trip never takes more than an hour. They'll wait for us, and then they'll wait just little longer, and then Rick will grab his gun and come looking, but he'll find nothing but mine, Dad, and Glenn's weapons laying next to a body in the abandoned parking lot.

We only drove for about ten minutes to get to this town. We never ran into it, but it can't be so hard to miss.

I really hope we ain't stuck here long enough for it to come to that. I just wanna go home.

BLIP.

The sound of a walkie chiming makes me jump.

Putting the cup down next to the sink, Merle groans to himself and digs into his backpack. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"It's gonna be Mendoza," He complains, before he presses the button down and there's a voice the other end. "Hear that?"

I shake my head. "I can't hear so well, now."

He pulls a face at me. "How ya mean?"

Instead of explaining myself, I just push my hair back from my ear, revealing my hearing aid before smoothing it back down.

"You got a hearin' aid?"

"I got two. Without 'em, I basically can't hear nothin', and with 'em, it's kinda hard to hear fuzzy things, or faraway things, but it's mostly like it was before," I say timidly. "Shane accidently shot my ear off last Fall. Messed me up good and proper."

"Shane," Merle sneers, laughing to himself. "Shane Walsh. I'll kill that motherfuc—"

"Dad already did."

"Oh," He chirps, sounding pleased. "Well, that works out, then, doesn't it? How?

"Beat him and kicked him 'til he ain't never got up again."

"Good to hear yer Daddy's still got his balls intact. What, so you know sign language and shit now?"

"Sure. So, what'd the radio say?"

With a sound of annoyance, he grabs his keys from his backpack and shoves them in his pocket. "I gotta go help out with sum', and I wanna see yer Dad down at the blocks soon, anyway, do some catchin' up. I'll prolly see you in a few hours."

I perk up. "Can I co—"

"No, ya can't come," He deadpans, opening the door. "I'mma lock this behind me. Don't open it for nobody."

"O-okay," I nod, obedient.

"Help yourself to anythin' you want, princess. See ya later."

The door slams shut, the lock clicking loudly — SNAP — before his footsteps retreat down the corridor.

Letting out a breath, I slump against the table.

Old times. 

Lucky me.

Merle's got a big collection of movies.

While the fiery colours of a cool gunfight flash over me, voices shouting war cries, I flip the cover of a different CD over in my hands. I figure I gotta keep myself occupied while Merle's gone, and he did say I could help myself to anything I want.

"Tom and Jerry," I read aloud to myself, smiling at the cartoon animals and shrugging.

The movie cuts out when I press the eject button, and the disc comes sliding out. I take it, replacing it with the new one.

A colourful menu pops up on the screen. Aw, cute!

I find myself grinning up at it like a monkey who's discovered electricity for the first time, pressing play on the remote and absentmindedly watching as the episode plays out in front of me. I'm surprised I even remember how a TV works. It feels like I've snuck outta my bedroom in the middle of the night, snacking on ice cream straight outta the tub while everyone else sleeps. I feel naughty.

I wish I could share this with the rest of the group, especially Carl. Ain't none of us watched TV in forever.

Jerry the mouse is slapping Tom the cat in the face with a banana peel when there's a knock on the door.

Flinching, I turn around.

I wait a moment, watching the door, making sure I really heard it. If it was Merle, he'd probably just open—

"Hello?"

Shit.

That's not Merle.

I press the eject button, and the silly noises and bright colours cut out.

"I don't think you should've done that," The man behind the door muses in the silence that follows, his voice calm, amused, like he's talking to somebody he knows, but I don't recognise the sound of it. "See, now I know you're in there. It was a bad move."

I really wish I had my knife or my gun on me.

Who the Hell is that? Wh— Who would want to talk to me?

"Now I think it would make sense if you would come and open the door for me. No point in hiding, Harley."

I can't help it — A sharp gasp leaves me.

"Yes, that's right. I know your name," He laughs, sounding almost fond, as I slowly rise from my position on the rug and creep over to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to hear him better. "My name is Philip, but people call me the Governor."

Phil. Merle mentioned that name at the gates.

A friend of his?

"Your Uncle Merle probably told you not to open the door for strangers, but we're not strangers any more, are we?"

How do I make him go away?

"I know your name," He muses boredly. "You know mine. If you want, I'll even tell you my favourite colour. It's green."

I don't give a shit what his favourite colour is.

Maybe if I just keep quiet, he'll think the TV is broken, or that he made a mistake — There ain't no little girl named Harley in here. Because there's no way in Hell I'm opening this door for anybody, even if I know their name and their favorite colour.

My heartbeat hammer, hammer, hammers against the door. Please go away. Please.

After a long pause, I hear him laugh to himself again. "You're not going to open the door, are you?"

No, I ain't.

"Smart girl."

Suddenly, I hear the sound of keys jingling.

My blood runs cold.

I jump back as the doorknob rattles in front of my face, watching it turn, gasping as the door opens. He had keys the whole time?

The man lets himself in and closes the door behind him like he owns the place, like I ain't just gave him a very clear message I don't want him in here, walking past me and coming to a stop in the middle of the room with his hands in the pockets of his grey slacks, smiling quaintly at me. He looks like an office worker, a harmless one, his clothes ironed and clean, hair damp and combed to the side.

I stare at the stranger — because that's what he is — horrified, violated, wanting to jump out the window. 

"Who are you?" I frown with my chest puffed out, trying my best to sound confident.

"Well, I just told you," He jokes, nonchalant. "My name is Philip."

"You ain't supposed to be in here, Philip," I warn him. "My Uncle, he's gonna kill you."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," The man chuckles to himself, like I've just made a very funny joke. "Mind if I sit, honey?"

I do, but that don't seem to matter.

He rounds the sofa and carefully dusts the crumbs off the cushions before taking a seat, gesturing for me to do the same.

"Come on," He beckons nicely. "Sit where you like. Don't be scared."

"I really don't think—"

His face hardens. "Don't be rude, either."

Shit, this is bad. What the Hell do I do?

I glance at the front door. I could make a run for it, but it might be better to pretend everything's okay. I don't wanna make him mad, and I definitely don't wanna get lost out there, so I shuffle my way over to the lounge area and sit on the rug again.

When my eyes dart to the baseball bat laying next to him, his smile returns. I think he likes that I'm scared.

"I'm going to confess something," He decides.

Too afraid to speak, I keep my mouth shut.

"Before I came here, I'd planned to promise you I would take you back to wherever your group is. Get you to tell me where they were that way," He explains, lacing his fingers in his lap as if he's in a business meeting. "But I realize you wouldn't fall for that."

He's right. I wouldn't.

I guess that's why he's here. He wants to know where my group is. "You ain't here 'cause you're mad about Eric?"

"Did you kill him?"

I shake my head.

"Then, no," He simply says. "I hope you're good at keeping secrets, because between you and me — I never liked him."

"Well, I sure as Hell ain't tellin' you nothin'," I say bravely, thinking of baby Judith. "I ain't even told my own Uncle."

"I know that." He continues smiling at me in a way that makes me wonder if his face is stuck like that permanently. "I could also tell you that the only reason I'm asking is to help your people out, share our resources. But you wouldn't fall for that, either."

Where is he going with this?

"So," He says patiently, "It turns out I'm not going to do either of those things. Do you know what I do here?"

"You're the president," I guess.

"That's cute." His smile lifts into a smirk for a moment, before he shakes his head. "No. I'm Woodbury's leader. 'Governor', remember? Everything I do is in my people's interests, just like I'm sure your Dad does everything in yours. When I start hearing that there's a new group around, I think of what that might mean for us. Have you ever had something like that happen? A new threat?"

"There were people who wanted our farm," I hesitate to admit. "And no, that ain't where we're livin' now."

"I didn't think so. What did you do about it?"

"We hung one of their guys in a barn. He was our friend, but... Sometimes, you gotta kill yer friends."

Philip is still smiling at me, but his eyes are all empty, like they're not really his. I've seen those eyes on dead people.

"I'm glad we have an understanding," He nods slowly. "In the past, I've had to kill my friends, too."

"Good for you."

For the first time since he opened that door, his smile completely drops. "You know who else I'm prepared to kill?"

My heart beat starts to hammer, hammer, hammer against my ribs again.

"Your Daddy," He says with that expressionless look on his face. He don't look so much like an office worker no more. He's a killer in fancy britches, with the blood freshly washed off his forearms. He's a wolf and I'm the little piggy, and I made a mistake when I didn't run away. My fingers tighten around my knees, the sweat hot and slippery on my skin. "If you don't tell me where your group is, I will cut your Daddy's throat open and make my apologies to the unlucky fool who has to clean up all the blood he leaves behind."

I can't speak. I can't. The words are congealed somewhere at the back of my throat, making it very hard to swallow.

"I wouldn't even have to kill the other one," He smirks a little. "I'm sure that gunshot will do it for me. Sepsis is nasty stuff."

Dad and Glenn. Oh, God, I knew it. We didn't question Jim when he was our prisoner, so why would they question them?

Of course Dad didn't want me there with them. They're in danger. They're in danger, and I'm up here in this apartment, eating snacks and watching cartoons and that's all I'll be doing when they cut their throats open or hang them from the ceiling.

"Oh, ple— Please don't," I huff, grabbing my belly so I don't throw up on Merle's rug. "Please don't."

Lifting his hands up, the man makes a gesture of peace, his smirk widening before he drops them in his lap. "Oh, I won't. I haven't exhausted all my options, yet, honey. It wouldn't be wise to kill your Dad right now. This is just something to think about."

I hug myself tighter as he stands from the sofa.

"For when I come back," He adds, staring down his nose at me, cowering at his feet in a ball.

I don't have it in me to glare at him.

All I want is to go home with Dad and Glenn and Mouse and never step foot in another paradise again.

Smiling that stupid, empty smile of his, Philip steps past me and crouches down next to the TV, picking up the Tom and Jerry cover. He chuckles to himself at the picture on it, before putting it back down and pressing the disc back into the player.

On the screen, Jerry starts hitting Tom with the banana peel again, but it's not so funny any more.

"Enjoy your cartoons, honey," He says oddly sincerely.

I watch him stand back up and make his way to the door, not sparing me a backwards glance as he closes it behind him. A grating burst of laughter comes from the TV, and before I can stop myself, I cry out — "Ugh, shut up!" — and punch it hard.

The disc slides back out, silently landing on the rug.

"I wanna go home," I whine to nobody.

Author's Note.

This chapter took a while to come out, but I hope the wait was worth it!

I can't believe I finally get to write Merle! Harley is very glad to see him again, even if she knows he isn't perfect. Meanwhile, Daryl isn't too pleased. Things have definitely changed.

Writing the Governor was SO fun. He's very creepy. Whenever there's I have a character who's really smart or has a way of dictating a conversation, it's always humbling when I remember that means I have to be those things in order to write them lmao. I hope I'm doing him justice.

Also hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you in the next one!

@poetoflawed

[dragon-queen21]

im so happy you enjoy my ramblings! it means a lot to me, thank you🤍

Going off your recent mini fic, I DEFINITELY agree with the idea of zoro regressing, had that headcanon FOREVER but yeah sorry im a sucker for “big strong man being taken care of” he deserves it man. i feel like he’d be a older regressor normally (round 8) but if he needs to can slip really far (2-3, sometimes younger) like the idea of like regressed zoro just working himself up over something and stomping his feet and everyones like so surprised and hes so embarrassed about it idk i keep thinkin about it

i feel like the first time zoro FULLY regresses, he wakes up little. specifically after the crew leaves a island where he had to fight a huge battle and he doesnt realize he feels different until he goes to see his crew for breakfast, so now he one, has no idea whats going on and why he feels like this, and two, the poor baby is silently working himself up over it :(

i see zoro being strangly picky? sanji brings out breakfast for the crew and zoros just looking at it like its the grossest thing in the world. and sanji notices and its the strangest thing because sanji has MADE this dish for him before. sanji KNOWS zoro likes this ??? and now that sanji pointed it out everyones put their attention the zoro waitin for him to say something,

in my imagination, choppers the one to process that fact zoros regressing

and the kid is all overwhelmed with all the attention

in my head the end of this situation either ends up with zoro crying :( or him getting mad at everyone for thinkin theres somethin up (there is)

i dont see zoro as aomeone to get genuinely mad at the crew often but throw in overwhelmed kid factor and what do you get?

in another situation after both he and the crew accepts zoros a little, they make a rule that he cant use his swords little and that pisses him off because he got to use his swords when he was kid? why not when hes regressed and the crew has to explain that its because what if he slips younger all off a sudden? they cant control that, its too dangerous.

okay thats it for now, im sorry it was SO hard to put my thoughts on little! zoro into words, and ill be honest im not to happy about how i worded this, so i hope you understand what im trying to say and convey

but please if you have any little! zoro hcs id be happy to hear! no pressue at all though!

📷

Mkay we are going to pretend this didn’t take me as long as it did to answer. I wanted to give you a proper well thought out response and my brain was fighting me for days 😭

Anyways!

~I have had so many thoughts about regressor Zoro (when my brain will cooperate). I swear I say this all the time but I WILL post that fic in full. Eventually. One day. >///< ahh too many projects.

~I have such a soft spot for a character who is always protecting those around them getting taken care of in return.

~Zoro would throw so many small temper tantrums over the silliest things.

~In love with the idea of Zoro being ever so slightly clueless about his own regression. Add injury and blood loss, post adrenaline haze, etc. and just so many reasons for him to make excuses that everything is fine, he’s just feeling a bit off that’s all… until it happens again and again and suddenly he starts to realize, hmm maybe something is up… maybe he needs to go to Chopper about this.

~Ooh okay, I’ve had that headcanon for awhile with Zoro being fussy when it comes to food. I think that Sanji would eventually get so fed up with trying to feed the little, because he liked eating this meal yesterday so why is he throwing a fit today???, that eventually Robin takes over for him just because she has more patience for the regressor. (Also just mama Robin my beloved.)

~Zoro acting funny, my first thought was, oh gosh Luffy would be just so- Luffy.

“There’s not’ing wrong alright?!”

“Yes there is. Zoro is acting funny.”

“‘m not!”

“Are too!”

~Telling Zoro he’s not allowed to use his swords also because no one knows how to properly watch over him. Unlike him as an actual kid there is no one to properly ‘train him’ does that make sense?

~Recently been on the kick of caregiver Luffy. Just loving the idea of him being oddly good with kids and highly responsible in his own way. Overly protective once he knows one of nakama is little. So just thinking about him watching over Zoro and realizing his first mate is small before Zoro realizes it himself.

[queermccoy]

the patron saint of break up songs but make it bucktommy

tracklist under the cut

Labyrinth

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

[...]

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

Say Don't Go

Why'd you have to lead me on?

Why'd you have to twist the knife?

Walk away and leave me bleedin', bleedin'?

Why'd you whisper in the dark?

Just to leave me in the night?

Now your silence has me screamin'

Down Bad

Show me that this world is bigger than us

Then sent me back where I came from

For a moment I knew cosmic love

Now I'm down bad crying at the gym

Everything comes out teenage petulance

"What if I can't have him"

If This Was A Movie

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You would, you would if this was a movie

Stand in the rain outside 'til I came out

Come back, come back, come back to me like

You could, you could if you just said you're sorry

I know that we could work it out somehow

But if this was a movie, you'd be here by now

Midnight Rain

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

[...]

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

august

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin' I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school?

I remember thinkin' I had you

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

Death By A Thousand Cuts

'Cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I [make a thousand loafs], but it's not enough

'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier still flickering here

'Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

Forever Winter

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days

He says, "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?"

He spends most of his nights wishing it was how it used to be

He spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity

The Prophecy

Hand on the throttle

Thought I caught lightning in a bottle

Oh, but it's gone again

[...]

Please I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

Come Back...Be Here

The delicate beginning rush

The feeling you can know so much

Without knowing anything at all

And now that I can put this down

If I had known what I'd known now

I never would've played so nonchalant

exile

I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind)

I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around)

'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

So many signs, so many signs

You didn't even see the signs

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

I can hold my breath

I've been doing it since he left

I keep finding his things in drawers

Crucial evidence, I didn't imagine the whole thing

[...]

I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art

You know you're good when you can even do it

With a broken heart

[claire-elvisgirl]

ALMOST ALWAYS TRUE - pt. 1

2-part story inspired by an ai chat. Rough and possessive Elvis.

Summary: You argue with Elvis because you want to go on tour with him. He puts you back in your place.

Warnings: 18+, anger, angst, involuntary cheating, arguing, jealousy, possession.

Word count: 1433

*

You’ve been one of his closest friends for three years, then Elvis finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You accepted with all the joy your heart could feel, dreaming a wonderful life with him. But things turned out to be a little different: you were together and you loved each other very much, but you had a big problem with your tempers. Both of you had the flaw to lose patience in a few seconds and that was a thing that no one of you could stand. One evening you were fixing his stuff, since the following day he would have left for another tour. You heard the door opening and you heard his voice: “Y/n!? Y/n where are ya?”

“I'm in bedroom honey.”

“Mmm, interesting place…" he replied standing on the door and looking at you.

“Veeery funny! I'm getting your things ready for tomorrow!” you said, folding one of his shirts.

“Oh, sweetheart. You're always thinking about me, aren'tcha?” he entered the room and hugged you from back, tracing many little kisses on your neck.

You giggled and tried to remain calm: "Well, it's part of my job!”

He kept on kissing your neck, softly caressing your shoulders. “And what a wonderful job you do!” Suddenly he stopped and went to the window, looking outside.

“Y'know, I've been thinkin'…I've been missin' ya somethin' awful. I've been on the road for what feels like forever now! So I was thinking...” he came back to you “Maybe I should bring ya with me this time!”

You stopped and looked at him. He never wanted you on tour with him before, so his request caught you by surprise.

“Are you serious? You never wanted me around...” you asked, keeping on settle his things.

He smiled as he grabs your hands: “Sure, why not? Look, I know sometimes we had our ups and downs, but you know what they say: distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

You looked down and think. Then you walked up to him and looked him straight in the eyes.

“I'll come on one condition: that you stop being so jealous and possessive!”

He rolled his eyes up, annoyed: “Oh God, not this shit again!!! Listen y/n, ya know I gotta watch out for ya. And don't act like ya don't know what I'm talkin' about! And on second thought, maybe it’s better for you to stay here!” He sat on the bed, trying to stay calm.

You threw him his shirt angrily: “I knew it! You always leave me here alone! Just for once, why can't you take me with you?”

“For what? So you can flirt and giggle like a slut with the guys whenever I’m not around?!”

You couldn't believe your ears. He never talked you that way before. You got more nervous: “How dare you...??? You always leave me with your friends while you're on stage and now you're trying to blame me if they step out of line!?” you asked pointing your finger at him.

He was getting nervous too: “Hey now, wait a minute! I let ya stay with the guys, cause I'd never think they would, you know...bother you or anything! They know pretty well they have to stay away from my property!”

You looked back at him sadly. “I know why you don't want me around...it’s not for me. It’s for you, so you can be free to do what you want! Is that right??”

He came closer and tried to hug you. “But, sweetheart, ya don't need to worry 'bout that, ya hear? I ain't never gonna give my heart to anyone else but you!”. Elvis started to kiss you, but you pushed him away.

He was getting more nervous: “Look y/n, I ain't had a woman in my bed but you, and you know that damn well. Ain't no way I'm gonna be with another woman now that I have you!”

You turned to him in anger: “The hell you got me! I'm tired of being here alone, I want to come with you!”

He raised his voice: “Now listen here, you're gettin' hysterical again...and ya know how I hate that!”

You knew things were starting to get hardly to bare for both of you and tried to calm down. You looked away: “Well...then what are you still doing with a pain in the ass like me??”

He came back to you, lowering his voice a little: “I ain't sayin' you're a pain in the ass, y/n. It's just that, damn, you're always so dramatic and upset about anything!”

You put your hand on his shoulders: “That's because I care about you and I'm sure another woman in my place, would have already left you!!”

He gets angry again and raised his voice louder, making the walls tremble. “Hell with the other women, I’m with you! There ain't no other girl in the whole damn world that I'm interested in. But goddamn, girl, you gotta loosen up a little!!”

“I'm just saying what what I feel!”

He kept on arguing: “Yeah, you've been "sayin' how you feel" since the day we met. And you never stop complainin' about this and complainin' about that and I'm sick and tired of it! Now shut the hell up y/n if ya know what's good for ya!!” he grabbed an ashtray and smashed it on the floor.

You looked at him mouth-opened: “Don't talk to me that way mr. Presley!!!!!!”

He grabbed your arm and yelled: “ I told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut, y/n. I ain't playin' with ya. Get ya ass on that bed and wait for me. I’ll be back when I am. I need to calm down!”

You were shocked by his reaction, but you tried to talk in a softer way: “We're a couple Elvis! Both of us have to behave! Not just me!”

He sat on the bed and breathed slowly: “Okay, okay, I’ll try to stay calm, but why does everything always gotta be such a damn struggle with ya?? Do we really need all this drama?”

You turned to him with fury eyes: “The day I won't be doing it anymore...start worrying!”

He stopped for a moment and looked at you in silence. Then he came to you and grabbed your face in his hands: “Oh, damn honey, that's what I love about you: you always find some clever way to turn anything I say around on me. You're a smart girl, but that damn tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble one day!!”

You took his hands off your face, still nervous: “Oh don't you worry, I know how to defend myself!”

“Damn right you can, I know that very well, but you gotta admit that sometimes you really get on my nerves!!! Sometimes I’m a little afraid of that tongue of yours!!!”

You didn't look at him: “I know you are...and you better be!”

He stood still for a second, then he came closer and put his hands on your waist: “Ya know, I've never met a woman as strong as you before!”

You smiled sweetly at him: “I hope so, but you know what the problem is? We're two hard-headed children!!”

He looked at you and laughed: “You better believe it! But, at least we admit it. Now, I better go rehearse for the show tonight so…if you don't mind...” he let you go and headed for the door.

You suddenly felt him very strange and distant, so you turned your back. “I don't mind at all! Go and have fun. When you're gonna come back?”

He stood on the door: “Not till late, don't stay up waiting for me…” his voice turned suddenly threatening. “But you better be here when I get back!!”

He left the room and you remained alone again. You loved him, but when he acted that way you couldn't stand him, so you thought of having a night out, to relax and push away those bad moments from your mind. You would have come back before him, he would never know. You took your phone and called your best friend: “Cindy!? It's y/n, please tell me you don't have anything in store for tonight!” Cindy sighed: “Let me guess, Elvis again? What happened this time?”

“Cindy please, I’ll explain to you later, come pick me up as soon as you can!”.

“Okay sugar…I’m coming.”

“Thank you".

You hang up and went to sit on the bed. You looked at the picture of you and Elvis on the night table and you turned it aside.

“This is not the end, believe me!”

*

[moonshynecybin]

top taylor swift songs that were actually written about rosquez?

they are many they are myriad they are legion.... no order and non exhaustive ofc

wouldve couldve shouldve. ouegh ough aough aoueg. ouregh. and i damn sure never would've danced with the devil. at nineteen. and the god's honest truth is that the pain was heaven. i mean JESUS CHRIST dude. songs that make me want 20 mins alone in a room with valentino rossi and a baseball bat.

all to well ten min. i think the longer version is inferior generally but adding the lens of a slightly fucked up age gap pushes this up the list. so many insane rosquez details in this one. i was thinkin on the drive down hes gonna say its love you never called it what it was. (hello.) the idea you had of me, who was she? a never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you. (HELLO?) charmed my dad with self effacing jokes like youre on a late night show. (HELLO!!!) my friend valentino did that to my buddy marc. i was there i SAW IT. my friend @repsol-ariel made gifs.

i bet you think about me. jussssst the right amount of insufferable for them in the bitter post divorce chaos of it all... truly like. vale you fucked UP dude. i think this plays in marc's head for every championship he wins 2016-2019. when you realized im harder to forget than i was to leave. crazy. bananas. fun to think about if youre nasty... i also love indulging the side of marc that is kind of fucking mad at vale lol. my cuntress... this is why we cant have nice things also fits in this category. its the fun parts of divorce: like spite!

forever and always. you ever think about 2015 and how crazy marc probably felt when he realized his whatsapp thread with valentino post ranch visit was all messages from HIM. like truly before that season he said vale is my friend all is good between us :) then in midseason he says its a different relationship not quite a friend one just absolutely white knuckling it. and all this happened with little public indication of off-track conflict. WHAT HAPPENED. anyways did i say something way too honest that made you run and hide? like a scared little boy??

story of us. a fixture of my imaginings. but you held your pride like you shouldve held me. how did tswift know. what did she see. was there a psychic on her staff. did she perhaps have a prophetic dream of some sort.

haunted. YOU AND EYE WALK A FRAGILE LINE I HAVE KNOWN IT ALL THIS TIME.... CMON CMON DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THISSSSSS i thought I had you figured out... something's gone terribly wrong.... you're all I wanted.... hello. is this thing on. like truly maybe the most rosquez of my rosquez songs. this one is THEMMMM to me. its dramatic its tense its yearning its a little PISSED OFF.

back to december. RECONCILIATION ANTHEM. your tanned skin your sweet smile so good to me so right.... GOD. truly like before they reconcile but after vale has turned the corner. wistful regretfulness!! pride swallowing by someone not used to it!!!

cowboy like me: twin flames!!!! FUKC!!!! IM NEVER GONNA LOVE AGAIN!

[unformula1]

The Boy of My Dreams (LS2 & OP81)

The Boy of My Dreams

Synopsis: Oscar betrayed Logan. All their promises and the whole friendship, it fell apart, all because Oscar couldn’t put in enough effort to hold it together. For years, Logan did his best to keep in touch, hold their friendship together and all Oscar did was watch it burn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist

part 1 (forever and always)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe this is wishful thinkin'

Probably mindless dreamin'

But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right

-Back to December (Taylor Swift)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oscar flicked the switch and the lights to his apartment turned on; he closed the door behind him as he walked in, dumping his bag on the floor and falling onto the couch. He laid there for a few seconds before taking out his phone from his pocket. 

Opening Instagram, a few thousand notifications greeted him, mostly from his post with Lando at the party. They were mostly positive, and Lando’s comment was pretty sexually suggestive but Oscar didn’t mind. 

He scrolled briefly through the comments, looking for someone in particular. He didn’t find anything so he closed the comments tab.

Liked by logansargeant

He sighed and closed his phone off, burying his face in his couch and falling asleep.

“Do you think we’re friends in every universe?” Oscar asked, looking into the night sky. The stars really reminded him of Logan: shining and perfect.

“Hell yea. You think so?” Logan asked

“Of course.” 

“Do you think we would be best friends…forever?” Logan leaned in and whispered. Oscar’s heart pounded loud. 

“Forever…and always.” Oscar whispered back.

Forever…and always…

Oscar lifted his head from the couch, wiping the tears from his face. It was getting bad, really bad. It went from just occasional sad thoughts to full on dreams and fantasies of what their relationship would be like.

He got up from the couch and rubbed his eyes before walking into his kitchen. He’d taken some of the photos from his family fridge to put on this one, namely the ones with Logan in it. Right in the centre of the messy arrangements of photos, receipts, bills and notes from his friends was the photo with him and Logan when they were younger, smiling, back when times were much simpler.

Oscar had placed it there to remind him of Logan. He stared at it for a few seconds and opened his fridge, taking out a drink. Closing the fridge, the photo of him and Logan. He stared at it again. 

Where did they go wrong? Where did he go wrong?

Him and Logan.

They were so close, then after joining F1, he seemed like he’d lost Logan. 

“When we get to F1, we’ll win side by side…” Oscar said.

“Yea. We would.” Logan responded.

They didn’t win side by side, Logan fell behind and Oscar couldn’t even take the time to ask Logan how he was doing. Oscar felt like shit, a shit person and a shit friend. He never bothered asking Logan about his day, or how he was feeling that night. He had so many opportunities and he chose otherwise.

Oscar shut his eyes tightly, hoping the tears wouldn’t come back. He ran his hand through his hair and opened his eyes. He took his drink and walked back into the living room, sitting back onto the couch. 

“I’m scared.” Logan said, lying down on the couch, “What if I’m alone someday?”

“You won’t,” Oscar assured, “You’ve got me.”

They used to sit here together, every night. None of them would ever have to feel alone. 

What a shit promise. He never fulfilled it. Oscar leaned back onto the couch, reminiscing of those times. How bad he felt now that Logan was probably alone, with no one to cry to and no one to talk to. 

He felt horrible for not being able to always be there for Logan and always making empty promises which he never kept.

Oscar betrayed Logan. All their promises and the whole friendship, it fell apart, all because Oscar couldn’t put in enough effort to hold it together. For years, Logan did his best to keep in touch, hold their friendship together and all Oscar did was watch it burn.

Oscar knew he wanted Logan again, sometimes he had the urge to just run up to Logan and jump onto him, latching on like a koala. He shut his eyes again. Logan’s voice was something that used to comfort him, and now all it did was haunt him. It reminded him of what he lost and what he could never get back, the price of success.

Maybe it was him. Maybe he forced their friendship into the dirt and buried it alive. What was stopping him from just asking how Logan was? Oscar didn’t know, and it killed him every time anything remotely related to a sad Logan appeared in his life.

He pretended it was fine but it felt like a blade piercing through him every single time he failed to rekindle the friendship.

What went wrong? They were so close, they could tell each other anything. Oscar could always rely on Logan and Logan always regarded Oscar as more than a friend. They used to be in a perfect relationship and now Oscar couldn’t even look in Logan’s direction. 

The guilt washed over Oscar. He breathed in deep.

He opened his eyes and grabbed his phone again, he opened Logan’s messages to him.

Their last conversation was a few months ago. He didn’t even text him when Logan was sick. 

Oscar felt like a disgusting person. He never deserved someone as good as Logan.

He scrolled up to the older messages. It was just pure joy and laughter, back when both of them still thought their relationship could last forever and ever. Fate had other plans. 

His tears flowed down and he started sniffing. He wiped his tears, looking at the messages, memories of their friendship flooded him. 

Oscar:

i definitely do not look like a koala

Logan:

-image attached-

i see no differences

Oscar:

shut up

youre so annoying

Logan:

and u like that about me

Oscar:

no

Logan:

yes u do

Oscar:

whatever

It made him cry more. Seeing how much Logan loved him and Oscar never really gave it back. Logan gave him everything and all Oscar gave him was “goodbye”.

He wiped the tears off and breathed in and out slowly. He scrolled back down. He contemplated texting something.

JUST NOW

Oscar: 

hi

He shut off his phone. Was it the right choice? What now? Would Logan ever forgive him for the betrayal Oscar did?

Would Logan ever want Oscar back?

Would they still be “forever and always”?

[guesst]

anyway tell me something you’re obsessed with at the moment

okay i had to wait to answer this ask so i could tell you about something that isnt temeraire anfhsj ,, let me tell you about no home cus i spent two days last week binging the entire thing up to the current chapter n ive been periodically staring off into space thinkin about the characters since then. its insane its actually insane its also one of the best manhwas ive ever read. literally have no way to describe it other than in terms of madness because i dont understand how someone could write something this good?? what the hell. what

general premise is: two guys end up living in some old haunted house as part of a deal with their high school so they dont have to return to their houses with their family. the thing is that this is really not about the haunted house but its actually centred around these two and their complicated relationship — god their relationship is SO good; there’s no romance, theres plenty of fights, theres plenty of ‘i gotchu bro’ moments, someone in the comments described it like they are each others biggest haters and supporters and yeah that sums it up perfectly.

its also supremely stressful like i didnt think something thats so character-centred and not partocularly fantastical or thrillerish could stress me out this much but it did its so so tense. (edit: on second thiught, this is a drama. of course it would be tense. although i dont expect this level usually anyway so my point still stands) was literally curled up in bed clutching at my chest and scrolling at mach speed to get through it. and again thats cus of the main two’s relationship because theres so many ups and downs and its such good food i wish i could forget it and reread it all over again because i love this manhwa with all my heart wow,,

also when i say it’s character centred — no home is not only about the main two boys but it also explores the backstories of many side characters, and in all of them theres this running theme of being disconnected from your home or your family in different ways. like the title. there is a lot of heavy topics explored and all of it is so REAL like i cant imagine the amount of time and research poured into it because how the author/artist (i cant remember if theyre the same person oops) portray the issues and characters and relationships in this manhwa is so realistic and thoughtful. the characters too surprise you in different ways there is so much growth and personality in everyone its really so fun

finally the art is great !! its pretty cute and simplistic but i think its really, really good at conveying emotions. if u read it u will understand. the eyes

yeah SHOUTOUT TO HAEJOON GOH ^^^ (number 1 in my heart forever ! !!,!,!!)

[cowpokeomens]

You said worship had you thinkin. What’s cookin’ in your brain about that hm??? Cuz in my brain, he completely loses himself and gets distracted on the small details of you.

Ohhhh my god yeah let's go I need a second to collect my thoughts

Because William Ramos has a Cancer Venus and a Pisces Moon!!!!! That is SO SEXY oh MY GOD can you say BODY!!!! WORSHIP!!!!!

Here's what I've been cooking up:

He takes his time. It starts as just two bros kissing (it always does) but then his lips are on your neck, half kissing and half just running the tip of his nose along the column of your neck. He's probably super into how you smell, don't ask me how I know this I just do!! He couldn't keep his hands to himself if you begged so he's running them from your waist around to your back then down to your ass and back again, gripping periodically because he just likes the feeling of you in his hands. I'll say this too: I think that Cancer Venus would gobble up a thick bitch. More to hold, better grip, so soft and plush to snuggle up to afterwards. He also likes the way your body moves as he's fuckin you I'll say it I'm no coward!!!! Anyways, kissing turns to heavy petting, but hands are never enough for Mr. Ramos, he's gotta get his mouth all up in everything, too, so then his tongue dips down to lick at your clavicle, maybe even bites a bit, and God Save Your Soul if you let out a single peep when he does that because he is taking every moan as encouragement to do more!!!!! Lots of hickeys and love bites so he can mark what he's explored, might get lost y'know, better leave some crumbs to find his way back; I think it's equal parts enjoyable for him to just worship you as it is informative for him to figure out what makes you squirm. Like yeah you like a lil smooch on your tits but when he bites at your sternum and your thighs twitch? Game Over, Wasted, Finish Him, you're done for babes. He'd spend forever just biting and sucking on your inner thighs, leaving bruises as he went!! When you're on the brink of tears because you just need something inside you, he'll blink at you all slow and love-drunk and say, "Ask nicely, sweetheart" EVEN THOUGH all he wants to do is dive in and get a taste. I have SO MANY THOUGHTS.

[blitzbuckz]

Was she really doing this?? Was she really going to Blitz carrying a ring for him? She was. Sighing gently, she peeked into the room, standing before him, she said. " I need you to believe that whether I'm famous or not, that you are equal to me, you're the imp I love Blitz, and i wanna prove it to you." She knelt down in front of him, grabbing his hand she held it gently. " I want you forever Blitz, as my partner, as my husband and love, marry me? " She askdx holding out a ring, her expression true as she looked at him. / 😢 she wants him to know that no matter what, he is someone she wants.

【𐂃】 ❝ Aaaa... what are ya doin', Ver? ❞ he wasn't really surprised, per se, to see the Succubus in his apartment. She had permission to come && go as many times as she pleased. Her words did stir his mind to backtrack to their last heated argument, but it wasn't troubling him. They had made up for it, having mended their peronal disputes. However, he wasn't expecting her to kneel to his level. To hold his hand while she-- confessed?

His eye pupils dilated, maw rendered speechless as he let them continue. Brows furrowing, holding onto every word. It was as if the room surrounding them had grown deathly ill. Silent. All he could hear is the vamp demon before him && the pounding of his heart being filled with elevated blood flow. The pressure being so vast-- it tumbled the walls he had confined his heart. Freeing it of his ribbed cage prison. Something he didn't know could be possible-- especially in a place like Hell.

❝ yer... really serious? ❞ he'd murmur at a loss, trying to contain his emotions from spewing out of him. He was scared, overjoyed, taken aback, etc. It compelled his eyes to shake briefly before they glowed. A smile spreading across his facials as he, also, tried to contain his laughter. Given he was wearing his fucking baggy jorts && a babygirl shirt. Not to mention-- being proposed to... when their roles should of been reversed.

Nevertheless, it made him happy -- so, without further delay, he countered her proposal with a smirk.

❝ Well, if the ring fits, then why not? ❞

he'd inquire with a pause, deliberately messing with her before finally giving an honest answer. ❝ FUCK YEAH BITCH! I'm no sugar daddy but... ❞ he cupped his hands over the ring, her hands, looking at her dead on the eye as to-- finally, reciprocate his innermost feelings.

❝ I would do my best t' provide for ya. To earn yer entire devotion with no more doubts. y' always kept me in yer thoughts when nobody else had... I treated y' so unfairly 'n yet... y' continued thinkin' of me every year.

y' showed me I can alter my ways, that I can change for the better. I changed for y' -- never once have I regretted it too. For... better or worse, I want t' continued bein' by yer side. so let's fuckin' do it. I... love y', Ver. ❞ without a second to spare he closed in on his vows -- planting a soft, genuine, kiss on her lips.

[girlfatherfigure]

Michelle do you have any thoughts on Raditz at all. I was just thinkin abt him tonight and I forgot how much I love him. It sucks he died so early and straight up never came back. There was so much that could be done with him imo. He should have been in Tournament of Power instead of Frieza. Anyway I hope your day went well smile

Hi holly I have so many SO MANY thoughts on Raditz I love that guy forever and he was suchhhh a wasted character like actually most wasted character of all freaking time. Also ur idea abt him coming back for the ToP!!! Literally same brain I wrote a fic about that bc of how pissed off I was that they chose frieza instead LMAO. And I also wrote another prequel fic abt bardock and raditz as well >:) I have so so many thoughts on him I’m working on a draft where he just comes back for good with the z gang and its Repercussions…..IM INSANE