#whether you say don’t send threats or not

[your-local-mom-whore]

Did you guys know you can not like something with out publicly crucifying others for liking it? Did you know that publicly crucifying people does cause actual harm and not the fake little ships? Did you know that you have free will to shut the fuck up and stop looking at things? Did you know you can do that?

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Heyyyy I was wondering if your not busy maybe you could write my request!

Sae-byeok x fem!reader in squid game. Kinda like a golden retriever x black cat where Sae-byeok looks after reader.

If you actually end up writing this thx sm and take care!!!

Love:

-🤍

fem!plus size reader, wc: 589.

a/n: i've been on my sae-byeok kick as of late! this is so fluffy it's actually terrible, but this woman makes me so HEHEHEHE

cw! deok-su being nasty :[

Sae-byeok hovered behind you like a shadow, looming like a parrot perched on your shoulder.

You don’t mind it, because it’s nice knowing you have someone looking after you, though you don’t really know why she chose you out of all people.

You aren’t weak, and you’d like to think it was your smarts and pure willpower that’s gotten you to where you are now, but maybe she sees something you don’t. You don’t really know whether or not that’s a compliment, unfortunately.

Tensions were rising exponentially as bodies fell and the prize pot got bigger; it’s to a point where you’re not really sure who you can trust. 

It’s obvious with the way everyone’s split up into their preferred groups that they feel the same way. You’d like to think that your group were good people… or at least good adjacent. It was impossible to be good and still end up in a place like this. 

She sits behind you on the steps to the bunks as you munch down on your pitiful lunch; just an apple and a bottle of water. There’s no complaints from you, though, as the juices from your surprisingly red apple drip down your chin.

There’ll be time to worry about that later, but you stop when you hear a scoff come from behind you. “Are you always such a messy eater?” Sae-byeok murmurs.

You turn around with a slight pout, water still glistening on your face. “How are you not hungry?” You ask through a large chunk of apple in your mouth. She just stares at you and sighs, pulling her sleeve down over her hand.

You watch her curiously as she cups the side of your face, using her cloth covered wrist to swipe through the mess.

“Disgusting.” She chides, all the while. You blink rapidly and almost choke as you swallow. “Thanks.” You mumble shyly. She just grunts.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Comes from an approaching Deok-su. 

Your body jolts so hard you almost fall from where you’re sitting. You look at the tattooed thug from beneath your lashes, scooting backwards so your back hits the front of Sae-byeok’s legs.

“Screw off.” Sounds the girl behind you. “I’m not doing anything.” He says with a smirk. “Unless I’m interrupting something.” He says suggestively. 

“You’re not interrupting shit. Screw off before I make you.”

The smirk slips from his face and he steps forward threateningly. “Is that a threat, you bitch?” 

You feel Sae-byeok stand up behind you, stepping around your frozen body to hide you from his dangerous thoughts.

“I’ll make it one.” She spits. “Listen here –” He’s stopped by one of his “friends,” putting a hand on his shoulder. “Boss.” He murmurs, gesturing to the left of him at a guard that tightened his grip on his gun warningly.

“You just got lucky.” He growls, snatching his shoulder out of the man’s grip, storming off.

Sae-byeok ops to sit in front of you this time, and you tug on her jacket. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You hissed in worry. “It doesn’t matter.” She says plainly, glaring off at the man who had resettled in his area. “He was going to come and spit his filth regardless.” She adds.

“Still, I don’t like when you get on his radar like that.” You mumble. “I can handle myself.” She said back.

It’s you I worry about, are the words that are left unsaid.

You send her an appreciative squeeze to her arm anyway, anxious – and flustered – butterflies swarming in your stomach.

[haartemis]

BIG EGO | Kylian Mbappé

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: people say you and kylian are the perfect match; both of you confident, unstoppable, and drawn to each other like magnets. when one evening you loyally defend him against snarky online critics, kylian shows his appreciation by proving once again that while his ego might be big, there’s something else of his that's even bigger...

warnings: smut!!! its all smut

a/n: this song feels like kylian so much lol, i figured i had to write something based on it. writing smut is still so hard *no pun intended* 🥲 feedback is welcome

you know kylian better than anyone else.

he’s kind, funny, smart, but above all, he’s confident. he doesn’t downplay his talent or pretend not to notice the greatness everyone else sees in him. instead, he’s matter of fact about it, and you find that quality of his charming, magnetic, and infuriatingly sexy. why?because you’re the same.

you know your worth. why move through the world being fake humble? you’re aware of who you are, what you’re capable of, and you don’t see the point in pretending otherwise. there’s no reward in dimming your light to make others feel comfortable. it’s not arrogance; it’s confidence. but for many men, especially those you were romantically involved with in the past, your confidence often intimidated them, and they ran away.

not kylian, though.

when you first met him, a meddling stranger had warned with fake concern that kylian was 'too full of himself' and therefore bad news. yet from the very first conversation it was like seeing yourself reflected in someone else. the same drive to succeed in your careers, the same unwavering self assurance. where others saw you as a threat, he saw you as an equal partner, and he didn’t shrink away from you. instead, he was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. or more accurately, like fire meeting fire. together, you bring out the best in each other.

"what a beautiful couple!' people usually exclaim at weddings, birthday parties, or any social gathering. they admire the way you hold yourselves, the way your personalities mesh in such a perfect way. you understand why it works: you see the best in yourselves, and you see it in each other too. and sometimes you play up the cockiness people project onto you two, just cuz it's fun. especially in the bedroom, when its just you two and you can bask in each other's love.

but sometimes, that projection can get under your skin. tonight is one of those nights.

you’ve just gotten back home after an evening game at the bernabeu, a game the team won. it feels like he’s hitting his stride again, growing sharper and more confident in the white shirt he’s always dreamed of wearing. he scored a nice goal, yet the trolls online still seem determined to tear him down.

kylian has never really minded it. whether praise or criticism, he’s used to people talking about him. he knows football fans can be fickle and reactionary, so he usually doesn't put much weight onto whatever they say. in fact, he makes a point to stay offline most of the time, to disconnect from the craziness of twitter. but you? you're very online, and sometimes you can’t help but want to bite back on his behalf.

you’re scrolling through your twitter timeline, sitting on your bed waiting for kylian to come to bed so you can call it a night, when one tweet catches your eye: “the dictator is destroying the locker room”

you roll your eyes. you scroll down and find another: “he’s so arrogant, always calling himself one of the best players in the world”

the audacity.

before you can think twice, your fingers are already typing away. “he talks like this cuz he can back it up!” you hit send, satisfaction coursing through you at having shut up one more idiot spewing nonsense on the internet.

“what are you doing?” kylian’s voice pulls you back to reality.

you glance up, and your breath hitches. he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, having just emerged from the walk-in closet wearing his usual bedtime attire: absolutely nothing but a pair of tight black boxers. your gaze involuntarily slides over the sharp planes of his abs, to his bulging crotch where you can see a hint of a curve beneath the waistband, then finally to his powerful, sculpted thighs. you swallow hard at the sight.

“nothing” you say, a little too quickly.

his eyebrows lift, and he steps closer before sitting down on the bed beside you, taking the phone from your hands. his eyes scan the screen, and his smirk widens. “defending my honor online huh?”

you fold your arms, suddenly defensive. “they were saying ridiculous things and you’re too chill about it”

he shakes his head, chuckling softly. “ma chérie, people have been talking about me for years. i don’t care what they say. why do you?”

“because you deserve better” you say, your voice firm. “they act like it’s a crime that you're confident. it pisses me off”

his expression softens. he cups your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “i don’t need anyone to fight my battles” he says, his voice low. “but it’s cute that you want to”

you glare at him half heartedly. “i’m not cute. i’m right”

“you’re both” he says, leaning his head in the crook of your neck. “and just so you know, i love that you’re always in my corner. i think it's really hot”

he presses his lips to the soft curve of your neck, breathing you in before pressing slow kisses, lips dragging a trail of shivers in their wake. his fingers find the thin strap of your camisole, sliding it down your shoulder as his hands begin to roam from your shoulders to your waist, before tracing the curve of your hips and gliding over your thighs.

then his lips move to yours, his tongue slipping past your lips with ease. your hands move instinctively, one cradling the back of his head, while the other grazes the nape of his neck with your nails. you know exactly what that does to him, the way it sends a shiver rippling through his body. his sharp inhale against your mouth tells you you’ve hit your mark, and it only encourages you, pulling him closer as the kiss grows even more heated.

“that skirt you wore tonight…” he murmurs against your lips, his hands slipping under the hem of your pajama shorts and gripping your upper thighs. “you knew what you were doing, didn’t you? showing off these legs. in the tunnel when you were waiting for me, all the guys there were staring at you”

you break the kiss. “jealous?”

“no" he says calmly. “there’s no one better than me"

you know he means it. and it turns you on.

he continues, “they can try, but they’ll never make your head turn, because no one compares to me”

your hand wanders to his bulge, and you hear his breath hitch as you rub him through his boxers.

“such a huge ego” you tease.

he just shrugs in response, a proud smirk playing on his face. the same smirk he has in press conferences when he’s outsmarted a slick journalist fishing for a soundbite to twist out of context.

you lick the palm of your hand and slide it inside his boxers, eagerly pulling him out. his hips involuntarily jerk at the contact, and you smirk. you swipe your fingers over the fat, swollen head, admiring the sight of what's in your hand. he’s so warm, so so hard, so smooth. and all yours to play with.

“y/n” his voice comes out rugged. “fuck that’s good”

you like watching all of his control dissolve. love replacing that smirk on his face with an agonized look.

“tell me what else is good” you murmur as you slowly stroke him, tightening your grip.

kylian groans, his head tipping back. 

“being inside you. that’s the best” he breathes, his voice rough with desire. “but you already know that”

your smirk widens as you lean closer to him. “i do” you tease, your lips brushing against his ear. your tongue peeks out and sensually drags over his lobe before you bite it, eliciting a breathy sigh from him. “but I like hearing you say it”

you keep stroking him, and the faster you jerk his dick, the more he falls apart. soon he’s moaning, catching your wrist with one strong hand, begging you, “no more. don’t make me come before i get inside you”

you pout before slowing your movements, running your thumb over one thick vein running up the length of him. 

“y/n” he groans, his hips jerking once again. unable to resist, you press a chaste kiss to the place where the vein meets the head. your mouth is watering for him.

but just as you're about to get down on your knees so you can finally put him in your mouth, he suddenly moves, his hands slipping under your thighs to lift you effortlessly and laying you back against the bed. his body hovers over yours, and his gaze locks onto yours, intense and dark with arousal. 

“i was about to suck you off” you whine. 

he grins. "you'll get to, any time you want. its all yours. but i want to taste you tonight"

his mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing softly before his teeth scrape against your skin. you let out a contented sigh, his words making you very excited for what's to come.

his hands slide under your camisole, pushing it up and over your head in one fluid motion. the cool air meets your heated skin, and his eyes lazily glide over your naked form. he tweaks one nipple, and you shiver.

his hands go lower, and he gently lifts you up by the hip so can he slide your shorts and panties off you. 

“no one compares to you either, you know” he says, his voice thick with meaning as he shifts lower on the bed, his broad shoulders spreading your legs with ease. he pauses, glancing up at you with that infuriatingly confident wink. “not in this lifetime. or the next. or ever. we’re the same. that's why we're made for each other”

and with that, he dips his head, his mouth finding its rightful place.

you let out a quiet yelp as his tongue slides through your folds inquisitively, as if it hasn’t been there a hundred times before. it's warm and probing, and almost reverent, like you're a delicious meal he's trying to savor. his beard that you make fun of serves its purpose in times like these; it rasps against the tender spot where your thighs meet your ass, and the friction amplifies everything, every sensation sharper, hotter, better. you can't help but arch into him, craving more.

and then there’s his hand, his fingers working your clit in such fast, insistent circles that if he stops you might kill him. the intensity builds so quickly it’s almost unbearable, and you grip the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you. you’re lying on a bed, yes, but his tongue is making you so weak you’re sure you’ll fall apart if it wasn’t for one of his strong arms wrapped around your upper thigh  holding you in place. even then, you writhe and squirm, eyes shut in ecstasy, mouth repeating “yes, please”s and “oh my god”s and nothing else. 

when you finally come, the pleasure rolls through you in waves, leaving you boneless and trembling. still, he doesn’t stop. his tongue stokes you through the aftershock,  even as your muscles turn into liquid and your body feels like it’s floating.

he finally relents when you place your hand on his head and shake him slightly. he looks up, his lips and the tip of his pretty nose glistening from your wetness, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he’s got a smug look on his face. “see? who else could do this to you?”

you don’t answer him with words; instead, you let your body speak for you. wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him down to you, drawing his mouth to yours. the kiss is slow and languid, your lips moving against his as you savor the taste of yourself on him. 

when your breath steadies and the aftermath of your orgasm fades into a warm feeling, you nip at his bottom lip, tugging it gently before pulling back. the smirk that crosses his face tells you he already knows what’s coming next.

because it’s kylian, and he knows you as intimately as you know yourself. because it always feels like he can read your mind, like your desires are two halves of the same whole. without a word, he rolls onto his back, sprawling against the sheets compliantly, leaving himself open for you to ride him.

you waste no time, sliding over him and straddling his strong thigh, the muscles beneath you flexing beautifully. his hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself. your bodies align perfectly, and as you sink down onto him, he slides home with ease.

there’s no painful friction, but there’s still a small pleasurable ache, the stretch that always comes with him. no matter how many times you’ve done this, your body always needs a moment to adjust, to accommodate him. the slight burn is part of the experience, a reminder of just how much of him there is. he groans low in his throat as you take him fully, the sound vibrating through your chest. "you're so big" you moan.

“you okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough but caring.

you nod, resting your palms on his chest as you steady yourself. “yeah” you whisper. "i can handle you"

his lips curve into a  grin, his hands tightening on your hips. “i know” he says, his tone shifting “we fit so good. i told you, we're made for each other”

his words send a shiver through you as you rise slowly and sinking back down on him again. the drag of his cock against your walls sends sparks shooting through your body, and you bite your lip, letting out a soft moan. kylian’s gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes filled with heat and something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

“fuck, you’re perfect” he breathes, his fingers pressing into your skin as you find your rhythm.

you move with deliberate slowness at first,  your hips rolling as you grind against him. the sensation is exhilarating, the way he fills you, stretches you, the way he watches you like you’re the only thing worth watching in the world.

leaning down, you press your lips to his ear. “you like watching me take you like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice dripping with confidence. “because I’m so fucking hot”

he groans, his hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, until they find your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “you're so fucking hot” he agrees, his hips bucking slightly, pushing even deeper.

you pick up the pace, riding him with more intensity now, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. his hands guide your movements, helping you find just the right angle, and soon you’re both lost in the heat of it, in the raw, unending need for each other. from time to time you lean down to give him a better view of your breasts, the way you know he likes it.

when his hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, it’s almost too much. the added stimulation sends you over the edge, your head tipping back as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“ky” you cry out, your hands clutching at his chest as you fall apart around him.

“baby” he groans. he repeats his upward thrusts, holding you in place so you can do nothing but take it. again, again, and again, until you tighten yourself around him so much he has no chance of holding it off. his own release chases after yours.

finally he stills, his body tensing as he lets go, a deep, guttural moan leaving his mouth. 

for a moment, neither of you moves, your breaths mingling as you come down from the high. then he reaches up, cupping your face and pulling you down for a kiss. It’s slow and tender, a contrast to the fire that had just consumed you both.

when you finally pull away, his lips curve into a lazy smile. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you smirk, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "of course i do”

you know he knows you mean it.

his laugh is soft, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. “god, i love you” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell.

you lean down, pressing your forehead to his. “i love you too, ky” you whisper.

slowly, you lift yourself off him, feeling the tender ache as you slide him out of you. you settle back onto the bed beside him, the sheets cool against your hot, sweaty skin. for a while, you both just lie there catching your breath.

“what was that tweet you saw about me earlier?” kylian asks a little later, after you’ve taken care of the mandatory post sex clean up routine and gotten back in bed.

“hmm?”

“earlier,” he repeats, turning his head to look at you. “i saw your reply, but I didn’t see the tweet you were replying to. what did it say?”

“oh that” you giggle. there’s still so much endorphins rushing in you that you can’t even find the anger you felt earlier when you saw the tweet. “it said you’re destroying the real madrid locker room”

kylian arranges his face into a mock scowl. “nonsense” he says, lips twitching. he pauses for dramatic effect, and you know what he’s about to say. “the only thing I destroy is this pussy”

you both burst out laughing. 

tags: @idontknowwhatthisvis555 @nowrosesaredead @iuoiyr @acarolnzinhaa-03 @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @loonworld @whateveryouloser @greyishbach @ajsboys @kyliansonlygf @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @heartbreakylian @cleverwinnermaker @creampuff07

[novaursa]

Legacy (of snow)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the pyre

- Next part: homesick

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The chill of Winterfell's courtyard lingered in your memory like the sharp bite of frost. It was a day long past, but the echoes of it returned to you now with a clarity that pierced your heart. You had been a young woman, yet already burdened with secrets and responsibilities far beyond your age. Hidden in the North under the protection of House Stark, you had learned to navigate a world of whispered truths and silent threats. But that day, the quiet peace of Winterfell had been shattered by the sound of boys fighting.

“Give it back!” Jon’s voice rang out, high-pitched and angry. He stood in the snow, fists clenched, his dark curls tumbling over his pale face. Opposite him was Robb Stark, his half-brother, taller and broader but no less stubborn.

“It’s mine!” Robb shouted, holding a wooden practice sword high above his head. “You can’t just take it because you want it!”

“You weren’t even using it!” Jon retorted, his grey eyes flashing with indignation.

You had been passing by the armory, bundled in a heavy fur cloak, when their raised voices caught your attention. You paused, watching for a moment, unsure whether to intervene. But then, Robb gave Jon a hard shove, sending him sprawling into the snow.

That was enough.

“Robb!” you snapped, your voice sharp as the winter wind. Both boys froze, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“He started it!” Robb said defensively, lowering the practice sword but still clutching it tightly.

“I didn’t!” Jon shot back, scrambling to his feet. His face was red, more from embarrassment than the cold. “He said I couldn’t use it because I’m not a Stark!”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. You glanced between them, your gaze softening as it landed on Jon. “That’s enough, both of you,” you said firmly, stepping between them. “Robb, give Jon the sword.”

“But—”

“Now,” you said, your tone brooking no argument.

With a huff, Robb thrust the wooden sword into Jon’s hands before stomping off toward the great hall, muttering under his breath. Jon watched him go, his small hands gripping the sword tightly, his shoulders hunched as though bracing for another blow.

“Are you all right?” you asked, crouching down so you were at his level. You reached out to brush the snow from his cloak, your fingers lingering for a moment on his arm.

Jon nodded, though his jaw was set, his pride clearly wounded. “I don’t care what he says,” he muttered. “I’m just as good as him. Better, even.”

You smiled faintly, tilting his chin up so he’d look at you. “You are good, Jon. And you don’t need to prove it to anyone. Least of all Robb.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think so?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with doubt.

“I know so,” you said firmly. “You’re strong, Jon. Stronger than you realize.”

Before he could reply, a stern voice cut through the air. “What’s going on here?”

You turned to see Catelyn Stark approaching, her skirts sweeping across the snow. Her blue eyes narrowed as they landed on you, then flicked to Jon, her expression cooling further. “Another argument?” she asked, her tone laced with disapproval.

“It was nothing,” you said quickly, rising to your feet. “Just boys being boys.”

Catelyn’s lips thinned as she looked at Jon. “He seems to have a habit of causing trouble.”

Jon bristled, clutching the wooden sword tighter, but you stepped closer to him, shielding him from her gaze. “It wasn’t his fault,” you said firmly. “Robb started it.”

Catelyn’s eyes snapped to you, her disapproval shifting into something sharper. “And of course, you would take his side,” she said coldly. “You always do.”

“Because he’s treated unfairly,” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “He’s just a boy, Catelyn. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for things beyond his control.”

Her eyes narrowed further, her voice dropping to a hiss. “And why do you care so much? He’s not your son. He’s not even your blood.”

You stiffened, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “Because someone has to,” you said quietly. “Someone has to care about him. He was given to me to be raised, not having the same blood doesn't make him less mine.”

Catelyn’s face hardened, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’ve often wondered why Eddard insists on keeping you here,” she said, her voice cold and measured. “You’re a Targaryen—a daughter of the man who tried to burn this kingdom to ash. The man who killed his father and brother. What purpose do you serve here, beyond stirring up trouble?”

You felt Jon’s small hand grip yours tightly, grounding you as your anger flared. “Eddard keeps me here because he’s a man of honor,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within you. “And because he knows that holding me here ensures peace. I’ve done nothing to deserve your scorn, Lady Stark. But Jon has done even less.”

Catelyn opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Eddard’s voice rang out from the steps of the great hall. “What’s going on here?”

All three of you turned to see Eddard descending the steps, his expression stern but curious. Catelyn hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line again, before she turned away without a word, retreating into the hall.

You let out a soft breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as Eddard approached. He looked between you and Jon, his brow furrowing. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Jon nodded quickly, but you could see the tension still lingering in his small frame. “We’re fine,” you said, offering Eddard a faint smile. “Just a disagreement.”

Eddard studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Come inside. It’s too cold to be out here.”

You placed a reassuring hand on Jon’s shoulder, guiding him toward the hall. As you walked, you glanced down at him, your voice soft. “Remember what I said, Jon. You’re stronger than you realize.”

He looked up at you, his expression thoughtful, and nodded. “I’ll remember.”

And even now, all these years later, you hoped he still did.

The chill of the night air clung to Castle Black, the walls of the ancient fortress illuminated by the flickering light of torches. The sounds of uneasy murmurs and the occasional clatter of equipment drifted through the courtyard, where Viserion rested, her massive form coiled in a serpentine curve. Smoke curled lazily from her nostrils as her golden eyes scanned the surroundings, her presence a constant reminder of the fire that now loomed over the Wall.

You sat inside the Lord Commander’s chambers, the small space lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken questions. Jon Snow sat beside you, his posture slouched, his hands resting heavily on his knees. His grey eyes, so familiar and yet so changed, stared into the fire crackling in the hearth.

He was alive. That truth still felt unreal, even as you looked at him, your hand resting on his arm as though to reassure yourself that he wouldn’t vanish. But there was no denying the difference in him. His face was pale, his expression haunted, and his gaze carried the weight of what lay beyond death.

Outside, the voices of his brothers and the Wildlings rose and fell. Edd Tollett and Tormund Giantsbane had been among the first to approach Viserion in the courtyard, their reactions a mixture of awe and wariness. The Wildlings had grown used to stories of dragons, but seeing one in the flesh had shaken even the bravest among them.

Tormund’s voice echoed faintly through the walls, his disbelief evident even from here. “A bloody dragon. Right here. Just sitting there like it owns the place.”

“Maybe it does,” Edd had replied earlier, his tone dry but tinged with unease. “Would you argue with it?”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the memory, but the humor quickly faded as your gaze returned to Jon. The firelight danced across his face, but he remained silent, his breathing steady yet shallow.

“Jon,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was tentative, as though afraid to disturb him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the flames. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. “I don’t know.”

You squeezed his arm gently, your heart aching for him. “It’s all right not to know,” you said. “You’ve been through… more than anyone should ever have to endure.”

He glanced at you then, his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, the words heavy with guilt and confusion. “I died. I should’ve stayed dead.”

The admission made your chest tighten, but you refused to let the sorrow overwhelm you. “You’re here because you’re needed,” you said firmly. “Because your fight isn’t over. The Wall still stands because of you, Jon. The Wildlings, your brothers, the North… they still need you.”

He looked away again, his jaw tightening. “Do they? Most of my brothers wanted me dead. And now… I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

You leaned closer, your hand moving to his shoulder as you forced him to meet your gaze. “You’re still you,” you said, your voice steady. “You’re Jon Snow. You’re the boy I raised, the man who became Lord Commander, the one who’s always fought for what’s right. That hasn’t changed.”

Jon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you had once known.

A loud rumble from the courtyard broke the quiet, followed by startled shouts. You both turned toward the sound, and Jon let out a faint, humorless chuckle. “Your dragon’s scaring everyone.”

You managed a small smile. “They’ll get used to her. Eventually.”

Jon shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I doubt Tormund will. He keeps calling her ‘the winged lizard.’”

The levity was short-lived, but it eased the anxiety in the room for a moment. You watched as Jon’s expression grew serious again, his gaze returning to the fire.

“Do you believe it?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but filled with an edge of vulnerability. “What she said? About the Lord of Light?”

You knew he was referring to Melisandre, her ominous words and cryptic explanations lingering like a shadow over everything that had happened. You hesitated, choosing your words carefully.

“I don’t know what I believe,” you admitted. “But I believe in you, Jon. Whatever brought you back—whether it was her god or something else—it doesn’t change who you are. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

He nodded slowly, though his uncertainty remained. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this again. Leading them. Fighting. Dying. It’s too much.”

You leaned closer, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone, Jon. You never were. And you never will be, as long as I’m here.”

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’ve always been there,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’ve always deserved it, Jon. You’re my son, in every way that matters. And I’ll always fight for you.”

The weight of your words settled between you, and for the first time since his return, Jon’s shoulders seemed to relax. The burden he carried was still immense, but he was no longer carrying it alone.

Outside, Viserion let out another low rumble, her eyes scanning the walls of Castle Black. The men below continued to adjust to her presence, their fear mingling with awe as the reality of her existence settled in.

But inside, in the quiet warmth of the Lord Commander’s chambers, a different kind of miracle had occurred. Jon Snow, back from the dead, was not just alive—he was beginning to live again.

The air within Dragonstone’s Great Hall was charged, the massive stone table shaped like Westeros sitting between Tywin Lannister and his gathered advisors. The week’s failures hung heavily over the room, souring even Tywin’s formidable patience. Reports and theories had been debated endlessly, but the outcome remained the same: the young dragon residing in Dragonmont refused to be subdued or captured. Every attempt had ended in injury, chaos, or retreat, and the creature showed no signs of leaving its lair.

Tywin’s stren gaze swept over his assembled men, each one avoiding his piercing green eyes. The weight of his presence alone was enough to stifle any rash suggestions.

“The dragon has claimed Dragonmont as its territory,” Tywin said, his voice cold and precise. “It has shown no intent to leave, nor has it ventured beyond its lair in the past days. We cannot afford further losses to subdue a creature that has no interest in threatening us.”

A low murmur rippled through the room, the men exchanging uneasy glances. Varys, standing at Tywin’s right, nodded thoughtfully. “A wise decision, my lord. The beast is young and untrained, but it remains a dragon. To provoke it further may result in consequences we are ill-prepared to handle.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his frustration kept carefully hidden behind his impassive expression. “We will leave it be—for now. When my wife returns, she will decide what is to be done with it.”

One of the soldiers, his face pale with nervousness, hesitated before speaking. “And if it attacks again, my lord? What then?”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, silencing any further objections. “If it attacks, we will deal with it. Until then, no one is to approach the lair without my direct command. Is that understood?”

A chorus of murmured agreement filled the hall, and Tywin dismissed the men with a curt wave of his hand. Chairs scraped against the stone floor, boots echoing as the advisors and soldiers filed out, leaving the room to its usual silence.

Varys lingered for a moment, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “A prudent choice, Lord Tywin,” he said, his tone calm but calculating. “Dragons are… particular creatures. Best not to tempt their ire without necessity.”

Tywin inclined his head slightly but said nothing more. Satisfied, Varys offered a small bow and followed the others out of the hall, leaving only Tywin and Jaime Lannister behind.

Jaime leaned casually against one of the high-backed chairs. He watched his father in silence for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well,” Jaime said finally, breaking the quiet. “That’s a first.”

Tywin didn’t look up, his attention focused on the parchments spread across the table. “What are you referring to, Jaime?”

“You,” Jaime replied, his tone light and teasing. “Giving up on something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it happen before.”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. “I am not ‘giving up.’ I am delaying action until the appropriate time.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Of course. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re waiting for her to come back.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive, but Jaime caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. “Your stepmother’s presence would not change the situation.”

Jaime straightened, his smirk turning into a grin. “You mean her comfort, Father. Don’t pretend you don’t miss her.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, though he refused to rise to the bait. “You’re wasting my time, Jaime.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaime said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been watching you these past days, and I have to say, it’s quite entertaining. You’ve barely scolded anyone, you spend half your time staring at letters you don’t even read, and now you’re letting a dragon live in your mountain because—what? You think she’d be upset if you killed it?”

Tywin’s gaze turned icy, though he still didn’t respond. Jaime took a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Admit it, Father. You miss her. You’re human, after all.”

Tywin’s lips thinned, and for a moment, Jaime thought he might have pushed too far. But then his father straightened, fixing him with a look that was both annoyed and resigned.

“She is my wife,” Tywin said, his voice calm but firm. “Her presence is valuable—for more reasons than you can comprehend.”

Jaime chuckled, unbothered by the veiled insult. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, and Jaime wisely held up his hand in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you to brood in peace. But for what it’s worth, I hope she comes back soon. You’re far more tolerable when she’s around.”

With that, Jaime turned and strode out of the hall, leaving Tywin alone. For a moment, the room was silent once more, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Tywin exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the empty chair beside him—the one where his wife always sat during their discussions. He didn’t miss you, he told himself. He simply recognized the void your absence had left. That was the truth. Or so he told himself as he returned to the endless tasks at hand.

Jaime Lannister left the Great Hall, Tywin’s stony expression still fresh in his mind. His boots echoed against the cold stone floors of Dragonstone as he made his way through the winding halls. The castle had a peculiar stillness to it, even with the distant hum of waves crashing against the volcanic cliffs. Jaime knew it wasn’t just the castle—Tywin’s brooding presence seemed to weigh on everyone.

As he rounded the corner toward the living quarters, he heard the soft sound of a child’s laughter mixed with the hum of a woman’s voice. Intrigued, Jaime pushed open the door to a cozy chamber where he found Damon, his three-year-old half-brother, surrounded by a handful of servants. Damon was seated on a plush rug, a collection of carved wooden animals scattered before him. His silver-gold hair shone in the dim light, and his eyes sparkled with delight as he directed a servant pretending to be a fearsome dragon.

Nearby, another servant held little Maelor, who was barely six moons old. The wetnurse rocked him gently, cooing as the baby squirmed in her arms, his tiny fists batting at the air. The room was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold tension elsewhere in the castle.

Jaime leaned against the doorframe, his golden hand resting casually on his hip as he watched the scene unfold. Damon caught sight of him first, his laughter fading as his gaze shifted to the imposing figure in the doorway.

“Ser Jaime!” Damon exclaimed, his voice high and bright with excitement. He clambered to his feet, stumbling slightly in his haste to reach him. The servants immediately stiffened, bowing their heads slightly at Jaime’s presence.

Jaime knelt to meet Damon at his level, offering the boy a rare smile. “What are you up to, little lord? Conquering the Seven Kingdoms already?”

Damon giggled, holding up a wooden lion and dragon. “I’m the dragon,” he declared proudly, his tiny fingers waving the carved creature in Jaime’s face. “And the lion is scared!”

Jaime chuckled, plucking the lion from Damon’s hand and holding it up. “Scared, is he? Well, I think this lion has a few tricks up his sleeve.” He playfully swooped the lion toward the dragon, making exaggerated roaring noises that sent Damon into another fit of laughter.

“Be careful, Ser Jaime,” one of the servants murmured nervously. “He’s rather fond of winning.”

Jaime smirked, handing the wooden lion back to Damon. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

Damon beamed, clutching both figures tightly as he scampered back to his spot on the rug. Jaime straightened, his gaze drifting to Maelor. The baby let out a soft coo, his bright violet eyes—so like his mother’s—blinking curiously at the new arrival.

“He’s grown,” Jaime said, his tone lighter as he approached the wetnurse. “Already looks ready to take on the world.”

The wetnurse smiled faintly, adjusting Maelor in her arms. “He’s a strong one, my lord. Just like his brother.”

Jaime glanced back at Damon, who was now engrossed in directing a servant to stage an elaborate battle between the lion and dragon. “They’ll need to be,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The wetnurse nodded, her expression softening. “Their mother will see to that.”

Jaime looked back at Maelor, his golden hand resting on the back of a nearby chair. “And their father,” he added, though there was a faint edge of amusement in his tone. “Tywin Lannister isn’t exactly one to raise weaklings.”

The wetnurse hesitated before replying, her voice cautious. “Lord Tywin has been… attentive. He ensures the boys want for nothing.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Attentive? That’s one way to put it. I’d wager my golden hand he’s already planning their futures down to the last detail.”

Before the wetnurse could respond, Damon bounded back over, clutching his wooden dragon. “Ser Jaime, do you have a sword?” he asked eagerly, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Jaime knelt again, ruffling the boy’s hair with his healthy hand. “I do,” he said, gesturing to the sword at his hip. “But it’s not a toy, Damon. You’ll have to wait a few more years before you’re ready to wield one.”

Damon pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. “But I want to fight dragons! Like you!”

Jaime laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Dragons, huh? I think you’ve got that backward, little lord. Dragons don’t fight dragons—they fly together.”

Damon considered this, his pout fading as his imagination took over. “Can I fly with Mother when she comes back?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Jaime hesitated, glancing toward Maelor and then back to Damon. “Maybe one day,” he said softly. “When you’re big enough.”

Damon’s face lit up, and he ran back to his toys, the idea of flying with his mother clearly occupying his thoughts. Jaime watched him for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer.

“They’ll have their own battles to fight,” he said quietly, addressing no one in particular. “But they’ll be strong enough.”

As the servants murmured their agreement and returned to their tasks, Jaime’s gaze lingered on his half-brothers. For all his teasing, for all the chaos surrounding their family, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of protectiveness for the two boys who bore the blood of a lion and the fire of a dragon. They would need it.

The biting wind of the Wall whipped through Castle Black’s courtyard, ruffling cloaks and sending loose snow swirling through the air. The gathered men of the Night’s Watch stood somber and uncertain as Jon Snow addressed them. His dark cloak billowed behind him, and his pale face was illuminated by the flickering torches. Beside him stood Edd Tollett, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, and you. Ghost stood by Jon’s side, his red eyes focused at something ahead. Melisandre lingered in the shadows, her crimson robes blending into the background as her unyielding gaze remained fixed on Jon.

Jon’s voice carried over the gathered crowd, strong and steady despite the storm of emotions behind it. “You all know what has happened,” he began, his gaze sweeping over the men who had once called him their Lord Commander. “I was killed by the very men I swore to lead. Betrayed by those I trusted.”

The men shifted uncomfortably, a murmur rippling through the crowd. Some looked ashamed, others defiant, but none dared speak.

“My watch is ended,” Jon continued, his tone firm. “I gave my life for the Night’s Watch, but now my duty lies elsewhere. The Wall still stands, and the Wildlings are safe here. But winter is coming, and so is something far worse than we’ve ever faced.”

He paused, his jaw tightening before he added, “I’m going home. I’m going to Winterfell.”

The words sent a wave of shock through the gathered men. Even Edd looked surprised, though he quickly masked it with a determined expression.

“You’re leaving?” one of the brothers asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“I have to,” Jon replied, his voice unwavering. “My family needs me. Sansa… she’s in danger, and I won’t sit idly by while she suffers.”

Davos stepped forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “If you’re going to Winterfell, you won’t be going alone, lad. You’ll need help, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Tormund grinned, his teeth flashing in the torchlight. “Aye, me too. I owe you that much, crow. And besides, I like a good fight.”

Jon offered them both a faint smile, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Davos cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Well then, we’d best get moving. Winterfell won’t take itself back.”

Tormund laughed, clapping Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s hope the Boltons don’t run too fast. I’d hate to miss the fun.”

Jon turned back to the gathered men of the Watch. “Edd, you’re in charge here now. Keep the Wall standing and keep everyone safe.”

Edd nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best. Try not to get yourself killed again.”

Jon managed a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nearby, Viserion loomed like a mythical specter, her massive form coiled as she rested, the occasional puff of smoke escaping her nostrils.

You stood beside Jon, the both of you slightly apart from the others. His dark cloak was wrapped tightly around him, and his eyes held a mix of resolve and sadness. Despite the strength he exuded, you could see the boy you had raised, the boy who had looked to you for comfort and guidance, now burdened with a man’s responsibilities.

Jon broke the silence first. “I wish you could come with me,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the courtyard.

You smiled faintly, reaching out to adjust the edge of his cloak, just as you had done countless times when he was younger. “And I wish I could, Jon. But you know I can’t.”

He nodded, his expression tightening. “I know. Damon and Maelor need you. And Tywin would probably march an army north if you stayed too long.”

A small laugh escaped you, though it was tinged with melancholy. “He probably would. And you’re right, my boys need me. But so does the North—and Sansa. She’s been through so much, Jon. More than she ever should have.”

Jon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away briefly, his eyes flickering toward the distant gate. “I failed her,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there when she needed me.”

You placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “You didn’t fail her. None of us could have predicted what would happen. But now you’re here, and you’re going to bring her home.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words settling in. “I’ll try. For her. For all of us.”

“And you’ll succeed,” you said firmly, your voice filled with the kind of certainty only a mother could muster. “Because you’re Jon Snow. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

Jon let out a soft breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve always said that.”

“Because it’s true,” you replied with a small smile. “And because you’ve always needed reminding.”

He shook his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping him. “You sound like I’m still that boy in Winterfell, trying to keep up with Robb.”

“To me, you’ll always be that boy,” you teased lightly, though your voice carried a deep warmth. “Even if you are now a man leading men into battle.”

Jon rolled his eyes, his pale cheeks flushing slightly. “You don’t have to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder. “It’s my right as your mother, Jon.”

The affectionate term lingered between you, and for a moment, Jon’s usual stoicism faltered. His eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, and he reached out to briefly clasp your hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. “For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “And I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve always been my strength, Jon. Remember that.”

A sharp growl from Ghost and the distant calls of Tormund interrupted the moment, reminding you both of the duties that awaited. You stepped back, composing yourself as you turned toward Viserion. The great dragon stirred, her head lifting as her golden eyes locked onto you. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she rose, her massive wings stretching out before folding neatly against her sides.

You approached her saddle, glancing back at Jon one last time. “Take care of yourself,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “And take care of Sansa. She’s going to need you more than ever.”

“I will,” Jon promised, his gaze steady. “And you take care of yourself, too. And Damon. And Maelor.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and sorrow all at once. “Always.”

With practiced ease, you mounted Viserion’s saddle, the leather creaking as you settled into place. The dragon shifted beneath you, her powerful body vibrating with energy as she prepared to take flight.

Jon stepped back, his dark cloak billowing around him. “Safe travels,” he called, his voice carrying over the wind.

You nodded, gripping the reins. “And safe battles.”

Viserion let out a deafening roar, her wings unfurling as she launched herself into the air. The force of her takeoff sent snow swirling through the courtyard, and the men below shielded their faces as the dragon ascended into the sky. You glanced down, catching a final glimpse of Jon standing tall, Ghost at his side, as he watched you go.

As Viserion soared toward the horizon, her massive wings slicing through the cold northern air, you couldn’t help but glance back at Castle Black one last time. Below, Jon and his companions were preparing to leave, their path leading them toward Winterfell and the unknown battles ahead.

Your heart ached, but you held your head high. You had raised him for this moment. And now, he would make you proud.

[fear-is-truth]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ✶ 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒established relationshi﹒fluff﹒a bit suggestive﹒toxic relationship

tom is always composed and distant when others are around, his poker face never betraying much emotion. he doesn’t indulge in pda, but his eyes often linger on you a moment too long when he’s made sure no one is looking.

rarely shows affection outwardly, but when he touches you, it’s always with purpose. a hand on the small of your back, guiding you; fingers brushing against your jaw, reminding you of his power over you.

likes it when you sit on his lap, especially in front of others. he won’t say anything—just grabs your wrist, guiding you to sit without a word. once you’re settled, he’ll rest a cold hand on your thigh. it sends a subtle message that you’re his, reinforcing his control over you and everyone around.

when it’s just the two of you, he likes having you close—idly toying with your hair or tracing his name on your thigh while he’s reading or strategising.

mostly calls you by your last name, the same way he calls everyone else. occasionally, he’ll call you things like love, darling, and pet. he says it with a slow, almost condescending drawl that gives the impression he’s savouring the syllables on his tongue.

pretends to hate it when you fuss over him—especially when you adjust his tie or push a curl of his hair away from his forehead. he’ll roll his eyes or mutter something like, “i can manage on my own, thank you,” but deep down, he finds it oddly soothing. the small, almost maternal act just gets him in ways he doesn’t fully understand.

he may not express concern in obvious ways, but he’s always watching. when you enter a room, his gaze discreetly scans for any threat. if someone dares insult or harm you, they’re screwed. tom will handle it in the shadows—silently and mercilessly.

if someone really gets under your skin, tom doesn’t hesitate to send his cronies to deal with them. you don’t even have to ask—he’ll notice your irritation and handle it discreetly. whether it’s a nasty hex or making their potion explode in class, tom ensures they pay for bothering you, all while keeping his hands clean.

if you snuggle into his side or playfully kiss his cheek, he’ll act annoyed and insulted, sighing as though you’re interrupting his important work. “you really are a needy, insufferable little thing, aren’t you,” he’ll murmur with a barely concealed smirk.

often manipulates you without you even realising it. tom always frames his possessiveness as concern and his control as a form of protection, but beneath it all, there’s a genuine care for you, albeit toxic and twisted.

though tom sees everyone else as beneath him, he holds a rare soft spot for you. he may never admit it, but you see it in the way he allows you small freedoms—like teasing him, stealing food from his plate or running your fingers through his dark curls.

despite his own lofty ambitions, he is surprisingly attentive when you rambling about the most random, mundane things. whether you’re excitedly describing your favourite book, the details of a dream, he listens with an intensity that almost surprises you. he doesn’t say much, but his eyes never leave your face, taking in every word as if it matters deeply to him.

tom won’t coddle you, but he always keeps an eye on your well-being. if you’re overworking yourself, he’ll insist on a break.

he’ll save you a seat next to him in class or meetings, hand you the book you’ve been searching for before you even ask, or casually drape his cloak over your shoulders when it’s cold without saying a word.

when you’re asleep, tom lets his guard down completely. if he has nothing else to do, the boy can literally watch you for hours, his usually blank, cold eyes softening just slightly before he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. when you wake up, of course, he’s as distant as ever.

tom is highly disciplined when it comes to academics, but he enjoys having you by his side while studying. he’ll let you sit next to him in the library or the common room, occasionally glancing at you while you work. if you’re struggling, he’ll lean over and explain it in detail.

kisses from him are slow and languid, always controlled, as if he’s relishing the power he holds over you. soft, cold lips barely brush yours at first, teasingly close but not enough to satisfy. he likes to make you lean in for more, only granting you a deeper kiss when he decides. his hands always rest possessively on the back of your neck or waist.

enjoys teasing you, both physically and verbally. he’ll brush his lips against the shell of your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and whisper filthy things just to see you squirm. he’ll smirk at how easily you react, eyes lighting up with sadistic amusement. “you get worked up so easily, love,” he’ll drawl, fingers toying with the top few buttons of your shirt and slipping dangerously low on your collarbone, toeing the boundaries but never quite crossing them.

even when he’s being more… soft, tom keeps some degree of dignity. if you’re tugging on his tie or messing with his hair, he’ll let you indulge for a bit, but then his hand will come up to grasp your wrist, stopping you. “enough,” he’ll say softly, but not without affectionation

he likes it when you card your fingers through his hair and tug it gently during sex. he may let out the slightest sound of approval but quickly regains his composure, gripping your wrist to slow you down. “impatient, are we?” he’ll chide with a raised brow, though the way his eyes darken with lust betrays his enjoyment.

loves leaving hickeys on your neck, collarbone, or anywhere that will remind you of him long after he’s gone. it’s possessive—his way of marking you. he’ll kiss the sensitive skin, biting just hard enough to leave a bruise, then watch your reaction with a smug, satisfied smile. “there you go,” he’ll murmur, “now everyone knows who you belong to.”

playful in his own sinister way. if you try to pull away from his teasing, he’ll pinch your ass or thigh just hard enough to make you gasp. the smirk only widens at your reaction, and he’ll say something like, “running away? i don’t think so.” long fingers linger on the sore spot afterward, tracing the sensitive area with a feather-light touch, knowing it drives you mad.

when he wants your attention, he will let his breath tickle your skin, leaning in close without touching, making you anticipate the next move. hovering just above your lips or trace his mouth along your jawline, only pulling away when you lean in for more, leaving you craving his touch.

has a fixation on your neck, often letting his lips brush the skin there when he kisses you. he’ll nip at it gently, knowing exactly where to kiss to make you come undone. loves how sensitive you are, how you react so easily to his attention in that area.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Cat Warrior // Mouse Trap

In the world you live in there’s a variety of races and peoples that exist. Most of them are at war due to ancestorial feuds or snobbish viewpoints about heritage. Which unfortunately means the world is overrun by constant wars and charged attacks. Being a fighter is a no-brainer. Whether or not you agree with the reasons those who do not fight shall survive. Which is why Ferrin the Cat Warrior fully believes you’ll kill him the second you’ve pointed your spear to his neck. 

“Kill me then human. End this so I don’t have to see your pathetic look of victory.”

Only to realize that you’re not going to bother killing him when you’re clearly the better fighter. Even when he tries to sneakily strike at you while you turn away. You’re still triumphant leaving them cradling the scar you’ve mercifully given them. From then on it’s this. Constantly avoiding this Cat Warrior’s backshots and sneaky attacks that just never let up. 

“Tired yet, human?! Ready to surrender in despair?!”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that considering your arm is still broken from the last time.”

“Don’t underestimate me! I am of the race of the greatest hunters in the world! You’ll be my prey today and the next!”

He vows to defeat you one day but he does it so often that you stop taking him seriously. He hates that you don’t realize how much of a threat he is. In the week he’s spent following you he already knows so many of your habits. Like how many times you turn in your sleep. Or often you yawn before bed. He already knows so much it's truly a miracle you haven’t succumbed to his mighty claws with all the info you’ve let him memorize.

“Stupid human! I’ll get you next time!”

It’s a game of cat and mouse that he adores fuels his primal desire to hunt. It’s strong enough that when his own kind sends a messenger to return to his fleet. Citing all his discoveries he’ll politely refuse the backup they want to send. This is his prey to chase. Others would just spoil his fun. All he’s waiting for is an opportunity to best you.

“You’re so weak. It’ll bring me no satisfaction to kill you now.”

You’ve fallen ill and he’s forced to tend to his prey. He wants you fresh for when he defeats you after all. He clicks his tongue as he feels the heat on your forehead rise and the sweat on your brow increase. While caring for you, the sound of your heavy breathing forces him to think. Why couldn’t he end this now? Why while you were indisposed and at your absolute weakest did he fight off the dog warriors that had come to inspect your camp? Why did he feel the need to scent you while your batting at him was weak?

“I think you’ve gotten me sick as well. This just means I’ll have to stay by your side then.”

From then on he’s your plus one, when you make plans to do anything he is involved. There are no ‘ifs’ ‘and’s’ or ‘buts’ about it. You’re his human and he’s your cat but if you ever say that he’s swiping at your face. He’s going to demand you let him stay in your tent as your journey persists, nipping at your neck and kneading into your thighs. 

“If you’re blind this is my human, you can try to get on their good side all you like but (Y/n) is mine.”

The Cat Warrior has decided to stay by your side as you continue on a journey–that he doesn’t care to pay attention to. But even as you amass attention from all walks of life, he’s promised to remain by your side. You’d be foolish to chase away this hunter because to him he’s won. He has his prey now right where he wants you. 

Complacent when he curls into the blanket with you in your tent. Groaning in your sleep casually as he nestles his fangs into your neck. His tail wrapped around your leg without so much as a twitch from you. 

He’s caught his mouse. 

And he'd never let you go.

[imagine-darksiders]

Absolute Anarchy - chapter 2

The Bull.

A Darksiders/Scp au.

Cw: Animal death, threat, guns, shooting, references to goring, livestock, abuse, blood.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days.

By your count, it’s been two days since you were pulled from the SCP’s cell and tossed unceremoniously back into your own with Mullins’s gloat echoing in your ear.

“Enjoy solitary, Scuzz.”

A slammed door, a buzzing overhead light, and nothing but your peeling wallpaper and creaky bed springs to keep you company…

Two days is beginning to feel like an eternity.

You have to remind yourself that it’s not.

They’ve only given you four meals, after all.

Taking a mental account of the trays that are shoved through the slat in your door is just about the only way you can measure the passage of time in here. Two meals a day, morning and evening. That’s the facility’s standard. And they’re all ‘served’ to you with the decorum of throwing slop to a pig.

Apparently, you revoked your rights to eat in the mess hall with the other D-Class after you refused to follow orders to shoot at the new SCP, or so you assume.

The first day was embarrassing, to say the least. You spent it in a state of near-complete hysteria, wailing and pitching a fit at the locked door, out of your mind with fear that at any moment, they’d come through it and drag you off to a fate worse than death. When you were hoarse in the throat, and your eyes red-raw from trying to scrub them dry, you hunched over in the corner like an animal, shivering violently in sporadic bursts.

Then the first meal arrived.

You ignored it, and it sat there unappealingly on the shelf attached to the slat on your side of the door until, hours later, that slat scraped open again and the second tray was shoved through, neatly sending its predecessor clattering to the floor.

It sounded so much like the gun you dropped in that thing’s cell.

It takes another few hours to muster the courage to unfold yourself from the corner and stumble towards the food, stepping absentmindedly around the grey porridge going hard on the floor.

The second day is spent on your back, staring bleakly up at a grey ceiling and trying to occupy your mind. Inevitably, your thoughts turn to the SCP. Moreso, the colossal gun fused with its biological arm, and the chambers that had been pointing straight at you, so much like Mullins’s Beretta…

But it hadn’t fired a single round…

Why…?

Well, you suppose you have an indeterminate amount of time to muse on its reasoning. You have no idea how long they plan to keep you in solitary, after all.

However, as punishments go, you think this one has so far been remarkably tame.

Nearly two whole days without being thrown to the wolves! Marvellous, in the grand scheme of things.

You suppose if anything, you ought to just settle in and enjoy the relative peace and quiet where you aren’t being tested against the nightmares of this facility.  Why, this isolation is practically bliss!

Of course, no sooner have you thrown that semi-optimistic spin on your situation…

“Oi!”

Somehow, not even complete and total separation from your fellow humans could make you miss the sound of Mullins’s strident shout.

When your door is roughly hauled open for the first time in days, you feel no joy or elation, and certainly not gratitude. All you know is the unshiftable ball of dread rolling around in your guts.

Mullins looms in the doorway once more, his lips moulded around a cigarette that hangs loosely between his teeth.

“Get movin’,” he growls, the dog end of his cig flaring like a red-hot poker, “Dinner time.”

-----

Is it comedic or tragic to find yourself once again standing rigidly in SCP-8103’s loading dock? Because you sure as Hell don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When you arrived, you half expected the scientists to shove another rifle in your hands and order you to finish what you never even started. Instead, much to your astonishment and trepidation, they hadn’t given you so much as a by-your-leave before they forced you through the doors at gun point.

No instructions. No way to defend yourself. Just your jumpsuit, and your wits – which seem few and far between these days.

Chewing ravenously on your lip, you wait for the secondary door to start ascending; just another yawning beast opening up to welcome you into an entirely different maw.

You really, really don’t like what Mullins had alluded to when he said, ‘dinner time.’

Are you finally being thrown to the very deadly wolf?

The SCP did have teeth, you recall in uncomfortable detail. Very big, very sharp teeth, suggesting to you that it must have to use them at some point. Though for what, you hardly dare imagine.

You’d convinced yourself you got lucky the first time you were pulled from the cell without being riddled by giant bullets. Now you wonder if your luck wasn’t just biding its time, waiting for you to let your guard down before it suddenly pulls the rug out from under you and abandons you to your fate.

The secondary door of the loading dock whooshes open to admit you, and you have to release a shaky breath when no body flops through the gap. Then it occurs to you that the bodies might not have been removed by human hands, and suddenly you feel like being sick all over again. The blood is still there, of course, dark and dry and crusting over the tiniest cracks in the floor. But at least most of the truly gory viscera is… absent.

With an audible gulp, you tread carefully around the dark patch near your feet and tiptoe to the corner of the dock, bracing your spine to the wall.

Once again, you can’t hear anything inside. But it must have heard the door open. It must know you’re here.

“D-Class,” a scientist’s voice crackles over the speakers.

Almost instantly, a familiar growl thunders to life, spilling across the airwaves and rolling around the corner towards you.

Ah. There it is.

“Stop hiding by the door this instant and step into the containment unit.”

Well… If it didn’t know where you were before, it certainly does now. At least it’s stopped growling.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you lean cautiously out past the threshold, twisting your neck about to try and catch a glimpse of the entity before it can spot you.

Of course, that was wishful thinking.

A pair of golden eyes leer down at you from the other side of the room, sending you ducking back behind the wall with a gasp, clutching at the front of your jumpsuit. Whatever courage you’d scraped off the sides of your empty reserves had been entirely spent on throwing your weapon down the other day, defying orders and expecting, genuinely, to be gunned down.

You can’t do this again, not when your heart is on the verge of breaking out through your ribcage. Perhaps you can linger here in the doorway for the duration of the-

“-Now!”

You flinch, smacking the back of your skull against the wall.

“Ah! Shit.”

Right… Foolish of you to forget that in this place, choice is a badly concealed illusion.

You’ve already pushed your luck once, and just because it didn’t result in your becoming a lure subject for the Old Man or some other horrific fate, doesn’t mean that won’t happen if you continue to refuse orders.

You wonder how pathetic you must look to the Lab Coats now, sniffling in miserable resignation as you force yourself to edge around the corner, hugging the wall, with your eyes cast to the floor, falling back into that old childhood mindset that if you can’t see the monster, then the monster can’t see you.

The door you’d crept beneath falls shut with a deafening ‘wham,’ and there’s the familiar whirring of the locks as they pivot back into place.

You’re immediately greeted by a low, throaty rumble from the SCP.

Quaking, you drag your gaze off the floor and venture a glance up at the other end of the cell.

And there it is.

Stooped in a crouch against the furthest wall of its cell, SCP-8103 is lurking, that streamlined tail lifting and slumping to the ground like an agitated feline’s, and its great, silver head turned in your direction, poised to watch you through raptorial eyes.

A lipless mouth peels apart and issues a steady hiss between its blackened fangs, eyelids narrowing to thin slits that bleed golden light.

“Hssss…!”

“…Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, bracing each palm on the wall and pushing yourself away from the security of having a solid surface pressed to your fragile spine, “I’m not exactly thrilled to see you again either.”

The entity’s hiss peters off at the sound of your voice, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the pair of you merely regard each other; it with apparent aloofness and you with the trepidation of a mouse trying to step through a trap unscathed.

There is one imminently glaring thing that you can’t help but notice; the entity has made no move to aim its gun arm at you, which you suppose is a good thing. Evidently, it appears content for the time being to simply glare down at you from the opposite side of the room.

Does it even remember you? It must, if it isn’t aiming a weapon at you, you muse. Implying that it doesn’t see you as much of a threat.

Fine by you.

Hands clasping and unclasping, you somehow find the strength to tear your gaze away from its relentless stare and turn instead to the observation window, noting the several figures muddling about in the dimly lit room, some motionless, some scribbling away on their clipboards, and one hunched over a bank of monitors, no doubt keeping watch over everything that happens in this cell.

Swallowing past a lump in your throat, you flick a hurried glance over to the SCP again, only to go stiff when it turns its head parallel to the wall behind it, regarding you from the corner of one eye. At least it doesn’t otherwise seem inclined to move any more than that.

“Um…” Breathing a near silent sigh, shuddering at the thought of accidentally provoking a reaction, you peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth and shout-whisper at the window, “I… I never got a debrief?”

The inferred question goes unanswered, and you’re just beginning to muse on whether or not they can even hear you when the speakers crackle to life once more.

“D-One-nine-three-five…” comes a female voice this time, clipped and staccato. And cold. Cold like an icy road in winter, dangerous on all fronts for those unprepared to face it.

“Approach SCP and commence interrogation.”

Interrogation?

As if it understood the word just as well as you do, the entity’s tail flicks up to curl over its helm in one, smooth motion, pivoting slowly towards the window as a quiet hum starts to build at the base of its throat.

“So, that’s their game,” you huff, watching the SCP snap its jaws at the scientists, privately pleased that the focus has shifted away from you for the time being.

For as much as they like to try and impress upon you all that this place is a research facility, not a prison, the Lab Coats aren’t very good at keeping a lid on the jailhouse jargon.

You can still remember your own awful interrogation, back before you learned what this place really was. Two men in grey suits, each carrying themselves with the highest level of self-importance…

‘Do you have any family?’ they’d asked you in that too-bright room, a fluorescent light buzzing noisily overhead, ‘Close friends? Are you employed?’

You often kick yourself for not hearing their real question woven between the lines.

‘Is there anyone who would notice your absence?’

You’d been blinded by confusion, panicking from the sudden threat of having your future ripped away from you, bleak as it was. It might have been bleak, but it was still yours.

You answered ‘no.’

It probably wouldn’t have made a difference even if you’d told them ‘yes.’ They’d have soon found you out to be a liar when they inevitably sent agents to administer amnestics to your supposed friends.

And now those same people want you to interrogate an unclassified, highly volatile SCP?

The deliberate echoing of their method sparks an uncomfortable comparison in your mind, and you find yourself suddenly unnerved by the idea that you D-Class aren’t truly so different from the entities in this place, are you?

Both subjected to tests you want no part in. Both locked up against your wills. Both at the mercy of people who believe your suffering will lead to the greater good…

You catch yourself before such thoughts can develop. Dangerous territory to be delving into.

Stupid.

But still, the irony of your paralleled circumstances doesn’t escape you.

Just how on Earth are you even supposed to begin interrogating a gigantic, unknowable entity anyway?

Say ‘How do you do,’ and offer a handshake?

Blowing a slow and unsteady breath through your lips, you elect to ignore the first order to move closer, and instead hope the scientists will be appeased when you open your mouth to speak.

Its attention has already returned to you, its horns jutting forwards like prongs ready to skewer.

You shove aside the visceral thought of your body dangling from one of those horns, and instead clear your throat, resolving to say whatever comes to mind. Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s ineffectual, even if it’s…

“Er…. Mm. H-hello.”

Smooth as a country road…

The entity just stares down at you blankly for a second before two slitted nostrils open up just above its mouth, flaring widely as it gives the air an audible sniff.

It doesn’t raise its gun though, which is encouraging.

Giving another hard cough to re-clear your throat, you stammer out, “I-I… I like your gun?”

‘Smack.’

Someone must have slapped a palm to their face and left the microphone on for you to hear it. Still, that saves you from doing the same, at least. If you aren’t careful, this will quickly turn into less of an interrogation and more of a social blunder.

Even the SCP looks bewildered. You’re sure that’s the first time you’ve seen it blink – just a quick flicker of golden light as it recoils its head slightly and spares a glance down at the aforementioned weapon fused to its arm, helm cocked in the opposite direction.

“It… it is a gun, isn’t it?” you ramble on, clenching your hands into the overhanging sleeves of your jumpsuit, “I mean, I never actually saw you fire it but… I – I can only assume that’s what… happened to the people before me…” Your sentence tapers off into silence when the entity looks down at you once more, opening its mouth.

You brace yourself, all the breath caught in your lungs whilst you wait for it to let out another snarl… Or worse…

Instead, what travels up its throat and slips between its crooked fangs is less aggression and more… well, you don’t know what. But it’s a far less vehement sound than you’ve heard prior. A hum, you suppose, still deep and hollow, but the intention behind it doesn’t strike with the same chord as a growl.

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you add with a stilted laugh that doesn’t even touch genuine. When the beast blinks again, you hastily add, “For not killing me, I mean. Not for… Well, y’know.”

A vague gesture at the blood staining the walls and floor says more than enough, though it is odd that the SCP’s gaze follows your hands and glances at each of the dark patches in turn, warbling another strange note from its chest.

“Sooo…~ Yeah.” Drumming your fingertips against the front of your thighs, you click your tongue and reach for anything constructive to say. “Thank you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you see that?”

The scientist’s painted lips crook up, intrigued. The expression is quick to falter as she glances about at her peers, all of whom are shooting her looks of varying uncertainty.

With a sharp tut, she stabs her chin at the SCP. “It reacted to the mention of its gun. Looked right at it when the D-Class referred to it. Which tells us…”

When all she received are several, blank faces, she heaves an enormous sigh and lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes screwing shut in exasperation. “If it looked to the gun when the D-Class mentioned its gun….?”

“Oh!” It’s her intern who eventually pipes up. “It speaks English!”

Frankly, she thinks her fellow researchers ought to be embarrassed that a greenhorn is the one who makes the connection.

“Or understands it, at least,” she adds, flicking the microphone on once more.

"D-One-nine-three-five. Tailor your inquiries to matters of the SCP’s origins.”

With the instruction dished out, she removes her finger from the switch and steps closer to the observation window, taking a mental note of each expression flitting across the D-Class’s face.

Surprise, then horror, then settling on a grim acceptance, illustrated by the hard line your lips draw themselves into.

At the very least, she plans to get some information about the SCP before the next, real test can begin.

Tossing a look over her shoulder at Mullins, she asks, “Is the specimen ready?”

The guard, who had previously been leering at the scientists from his spot by the door, snaps to attention with a click of his boot before he whips out his walkie-talkie and mutters something into it.

After a static-laden response from the other side, he gives her a nod. “It’s in the crush,” he says, “Prepped and ready to be deployed.”

“Good,” she returns, straightening her back with a satisfied hum, “We’ll give the D-Class a few more minutes to get what little information out of this thing is to be had…. Activate the crush at…” Trailing off, she checks her watch, “- Fourteen hundred hours.”

Bringing everything right up to schedule.

Perfect.

------------------------------

You wonder if you’ll go down in the Foundation’s history as being the first D-Class who ever thanked an SCP for not killing them.

What you said - that hesitant, ‘Thank you.' - you said with the intent to appease the armoured titan somehow, a feeble attempt at appealing to whatever intelligence might lay behind its silver helm.

Because you’re only too aware that in this cell, placating the enemy is the sole weapon you have in your arsenal. For when the enemy is this much larger, stronger, and deadlier than you are, you’ll never beat it in a confrontation.

You had not, however, expected that this kind of SCP was the type to be assuaged.

And yet…

By some miracle, you’re still alive, and the fact that its thunderous growls have petered out entirely suggests you’ve done something right, at least. Even if that something was just letting your mouth talk while your brain was busy frantically trying to make sense of the SCP’s bizarre behaviour.

Is it the sound of your voice that’s caused it to fall silent and take a single, heavy step towards you – one that you match with a rapid retreat of your own – or is it the words themselves that seem to have piqued its curiosity.

And if the latter rings true, would that imply that this entity is capable of understanding English?

Now there’s a question that befits a proper interrogation.

You have to admit, you’re about willing to ask it anything that’ll stop the beast from backing you into the far wall, something it’s been doing with its slow, measured steps for the past few moments, the pale pupils of its eyes large and round as it angles its head from side to side and peers down at you like it means to take you in from every perspective.

“Hey, um-“ you begin, swallowing your spit when the tail sprouting from its back twitches with apparent interest, “Can you… understand me?”

You almost feel the scientists holding their collective breaths. From the corner of an eye, you see several of them lean closer to the window.

Even you’re waiting on tenterhooks as it pauses, one of those terrible, clawed feet thumping back down in the spot it had just lifted from. You give the SCP a moment, but soon enough, as it raises its snout to the air and gives a few audible sniffs with those slanted nostrils, you realise you’re not going to get a discernible response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then,” you finally add, neither pleased nor put out by the revelation. All you want is to leave this cell. Once is lucky, twice is coincidence. You don’t want to find out if you’ll survive your third visit…

It doesn’t offer a response beyond lowering its head and staring straight down at you again, an upsetting display that leaves you feeling as though you’re being pinned by the gaze of a hunter.

“So, can I come out now, or...?” you ask the people on the other side of the window without taking your eyes off the towering brute. There’s only half a containment cell separating you from it.

You don’t realise at first why nobody responds to you.

Their silence is quick to make sense however, when there’s a sudden sound to your right.

At the disturbance, you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to face the noise, and as you do, the SCP follows suit, its tail hurtling up into position above its head, aimed with rigid precision at a large panel of the otherwise featureless wall that’s suddenly sprung open.

A door, you realise belatedly.

And your stomach drops the moment you remember exactly what kind of door it is.

You’ve only seen it in operation once, in a much different cell with a much different SCP.

D-Class call them ‘feeding tubes.’

The Lab Coats call them ‘crushes;’ close-fitting cages hidden behind the walls of a cell where drugged up livestock are held until the scientists release them into an SCP’s unit for consumption….

‘Dinner time.’

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss through your teeth.

You can’t see around the corner into the crush, but goddamn, you can hear the very recognisable bellow of an animal that’s just come around from sedation, its hooves stamping in confused fury against the metal floor beneath it.

A stomach-lurching snarl punches through the air and draws a cry of fright from your lungs. The SCP’s hackles are raised, bulging and bristling as it snaps at something you can’t yet see, its black fangs protruding from dark gums, and the pupils in its golden stare shrinking down to pinpricks.

And worst of all, bad enough to put the fear of death back into your quibbling heart, is the arm it raises slowly into the air, the all-too familiar whirring of machinery filling your ears as the cylinders near its elbow start to rotate - a gatling gun gearing up to fire.

The animal in the crush snorts madly, and with an abrupt rattling of metal followed by a clang and a thud, it charges from its confines and hurtles through the gap into the cell, a blur of black hair and dark, rolling eyes and a pair of horns lancing forwards from the top of its head.

It’s a bull.

Massive, terrified, furious.

You let out an embarrassing bleat when he bursts into the cell.

Almost at once, he catches sight of the titan in front of him, and he throws his head back with a snort, cloven hooves scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth concrete floor as he skids to a halt just several yards shy of the looming SCP.

You can only reason that he’s burned through the sedative quicker than anticipated. Usually, the livestock are so drowsy, they’ll stand stock still and do absolutely nothing to stop themselves from being killed or eaten alive by the SCPs.

Even months down the line, you still shudder to recall the time you painted the floor of SCP-5031’s cell with the contents of your stomach after witnessing it slice mercilessly into an unfortunate sheep.

You’re really not eager to have a repeated incident here.

Flanks quivering with adrenaline, the bull’s bulging eyes stare up at the colossus in front of him. And then, as bulls are often wont to do, he begins to size up his opponent.

Your heart flips upside down in your chest as you wedge yourself firmly into the corner, blood-shot eyes darting up to the SCP’s gun arm.

Why hasn’t it fired yet?

The gun is still humming, aimed squarely at the poor animal, but all its wielder does is snap its fangs together a few times, not unlike a bird clacking its beak to warn others off its territory.

In response, the bull huffs a breath through wide nostrils, sweat clinging to his glossy shoulders. Then, tossing his horns and turning to the side, he begins a back-and-forth trot from left to right in front of the SCP, who tracks the agitated creature’s movements steadily with its weapon.

But still, it doesn’t shoot.

Your knocking knees can’t hold you up any longer, and they give out quite promptly, forcing you to hunker down instead. The position in your corner is too open, too vulnerable. If bullets do start flying, you need to be as tiny a target as possible.

Breathing fast and hard, your vision starts to swim as you shoot a desperate, pleading glance at the window, praying to a god you no longer believe in that one of the Lab Coats will take pity on you and open the door.

It’s wishful thinking at its finest.

The bull’s moos only seem to grow increasingly frantic with each second that ticks by, shrill and broken as though he too is calling for help the only way he knows how. He paces like a caged rat, looking for an escape even as he continues throwing his head down and tilting his horns in the SCP’s direction. A meagre threat to be sure, but the bull isn’t to know that.

And as for the entity, while its arm continues to follow the bull's path across the room, its only outward acknowledgement of the animal in its cell is to utter a slow, continuous growl that seems to build towards an inevitable crescendo.

“Come on,” you breathe, teeth chattering between the words, “Open the fucking door!”

You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. You shouldn’t have made a sound. If only you’d just shut up and hunkered down in your corner, perhaps you wouldn’t have drawn any attention to yourself.

One of the bull’s ears flicks backwards, and all of a sudden, he wrenches himself away from the SCP and spins around on his hooves to face you, head held high and the whites of his eyes shining clear as day against his jet-black hair.

You meet that gaze; and understand. You’re both cattle here. Just a pair of frightened animals trapped against their wills with a common enemy who outmatches you in every conceivable aspect.

But the bull, of course, doesn’t think like you do. He doesn’t know you’re just as afraid as he is. He’s been brought here by creatures who look and sound and smell like you, and now here’s one of them: standing in front of him like a target, stark against his grey-walled cage with hard floors and no familiar sky over his head.

A bull doesn’t consider the fairness in a fight. A threat is a threat, no matter the size.

Tail whipping madly through the air, the bull leans back on his hindquarters, and before you can blink, he abruptly surges forwards into a head-long charge, nose tucked into his chest, horns aimed with deadly precision at your abdomen.

You don’t even notice when the SCP’s growls cut out. You’re too busy throwing your hands up in front of you and wrenching your head away from the charging missile, letting your jaw hang open around a silent scream. If you had the time, you’d pause to reflect on the irony of being killed by the least likely suspect.

As it is, the bull is only a few strides from you, hooves flying, thick neck rippling with muscle that’s about to thrust forwards and impale you on an entirely new set of horns. He bellows, the haunting din deafening to your ringing ears, and then he –

‘-BLAM!’

There’s an almighty thud, and something wet splatters across your shaking palms.

At last, your scream catches on a vocal cord, and the sound rips out of you like a wailing siren.

Someone in the observation room must have left the microphone on because you can suddenly hear an exclamation of ‘Jesus Christ!’

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly, it’ll take a crowbar to pry them open again.

Even as the mechanical whir of machinery dies down, even as something with titanic lungs heaves deep, grunting breaths, even as the ground beneath your plimsoles vibrates with the fall of enormous feet, you don’t look.

You can’t.

You can’t… until out of nowhere, in a suddenly deafening quiet, your right hand is promptly and unexpectedly nudged.

Another piercing shriek fills the room as you wrench your eyes open and come face to face with a wall of silver and grey.

“FUCK!” you yelp, collapsing onto your backside but finding there’s nowhere to retreat to with your spine squashed up against the wall.

The SCP’s head is hovering before you, mere feet away, its yellow eyes almost crossing over one another to peer down at you, utterly still and disconcertingly silent.

‘Oh god. Oh god. Oh god….’ The words repeat in your head like a mantra, rapid-fire and frenetic.

But you don’t make a sound out loud.

Your mouth dangles open, not a breath nor a wheeze slipping in through your teeth as you wait, blood pounding in your ears. Somehow, even your body knows to be still. You’ve stopped shaking, too afraid for the adrenaline to control your muscles.

The instinct to play dead has taken over.

Through tear blurred eyes, you can see the SCP up close for the first time, the blank, white pupils floating in pools of gold, the charcoal skin sitting beneath the sockets of its visor, each nick and scrape zigzagging across the surface of its silver helm….

You let out a squeak when it pries its jaws apart and chuffs a hot breath over your face, catching the finer hairs at the side of your head and blowing them off your scalp. The air from its lungs smells acrid, and it burns your nose when you accidentally inhale.

It takes everything in you not to choke.

You wait for the bite. For the agony of those giant teeth sinking into your body and crushing you between them with a flex of its jaws. You wait, and wait, and wait, unheeding of the commotion occurring in the observation room. You only have eyes for the entity now, as though even taking the tiniest of glances away and breaking eye contact might spur it to attack.

Its horns, much like the bulls, jut forwards, each one a massive spear that hems you in on both sides, their tips nearly pressed to the wall to your left and right so that there’s truly nowhere to go.

"Please," you whisper, though it comes out wobbling, "Please, don't..."

A single blink is your only reply.

Then, as suddenly as it had crouched in front of you, the SCP - apparently satisfied with its impromptu inspection - lifts its great, silver head and stands up, moving away from you once more. Its leg stretches backwards, stepping deftly over the dark shape of -…

Oh…

Oh dear.

The bull lays dead on his front, hooves tucked up underneath his stomach. He had died collapsing forwards. And the only tell of what had killed him comes from a still smoking hole in the back of his skull. Murky eyes stare out at nothing and blood trickles in a steady stream from his nose, tongue lolling.

At first, your eyes dart over his entire body in search of wounds similar to those you saw on the D-Classes who died in here, but even with the fluorescent overheads lighting up every angle, you can’t pick out any other damage to his otherwise pristine pelt.

There’s only one wound.

One shot to the back of the head. Quick… Merciful.

Your eyes raise to the SCP’s gun arm and see that from one of the barrels, a dainty wisp of smoke is drifting steadily up towards the ceiling.

SCPs aren’t merciful.

What the Hell is this thing?

Peeling your bone-dry tongue off the roof of your mouth, you tilt your head back and gape up at the face of the entity towering above you. Its arm is reaching out for the bull, and you can do nothing but watch aghast as its clawed hand curls around the animal’s back legs and drags him back towards the opposite wall on the other end of the cell.

Slowly, methodically, it bends down onto its haunches and squares its stance over the bull, hissing at the Lab Coats behind their window like a lion guarding its kill. And like a lion, it doesn’t seem intent on letting the meat go to waste.

By the time the secondary door has begun to rise, you’ve scrunched your eyes shut again and slapped both hands over your ears to try and block out the sickening cacophony of snapping bones and the squeak of flesh being torn from muscle.

Staggering into the loading dock, you barely make it three steps inside before you collapse onto your knees, then your side, a wide-eyed, shivering mess of a human being.

Two guards have to haul you up by the arms, and without prompt, they drag you, crying hysterically, back to your cell.

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), different positions, cumshot (a little swallowing), creampie, petnames, threesome (😈)

WC: 6043

Chapter 16

In the halls of Blackmane Manor, Reed’s yelling could be heard all around. He was yelling at Griffin Blake, who stood across his desk, wincing at the alpha’s anger. Hudson was in the corner, trying to look confident and not like he was on the verge of shaking.

“I hired you to do a job! Your alpha over in Ashland said you were the best.” Reed complained. 

“I spoke with the judges. I promise, it will work in our favor. Just give it time, Alpha Reed.”

“I don’t have time! I need that pack destroyed and my sister back. Unfortunately, I can’t get directly involved or kill them if I want her to learn to trust me.”

Griffin didn’t say anything.

“Fix this next trial. Or I’ll end you.” Reed growled. 

Griffin bowed briefly before scurrying off.

“Hudson,” Reed motioned for his brother to step closer.

“Y-yes sir?”

“I got a mission for you. Can I trust you to not let your emotions get in the way?”

“Of course. Strictly business.”

“Good.” Reed came around his desk, draping an arm over Hudson’s shoulders.

Reed is over six feet, a good five inches taller than his younger brother. He was broader in the shoulders too, towering over Hudson in size and stature easily. It didn’t take much for him to intimidate Hudson, whether he tried to or not. And right now, he was definitely trying.

“I need you to go to Greenridge and get our girl back.”

“They are never gonna give up their soulmate…even to her brother. I’ll be lucky if they send me on my way and not kill me.”

“You’re not going to just take her.” Reed rolled his eyes. “You’re going to earn their trust. Convince them you aren’t a threat. And then find the right time to sneak her away.”

“B-but she knows I’m part of your pack. She probably told them and if so, they won’t ever trust me.”

“Give them an excuse. You’re smart. Figure it out.” Reed turned him so they were face to face. “And while you’re there…find out anything you can on them. Secrets, plans, weaknesses…whatever you think would be useful in taking them down. Got it?”

Hudson nodded, mouth turned down. Not like he could say no…

He was unsure about this plan. He didn’t want to be deceiving you nor do anything to make you hate him. But if he didn’t…Reed would punish him. He didn’t want to think of all the ways Reed could torture him…or even if he would choose that over just simply killing him.

“Great. Keep me updated and we will find a way to get our sister back.” Reed smiled at him.

He actually smiled. As if what he was doing wouldn’t tear you apart.

Two days later…

“Y/n! Get up!” 

“Mmmm” you groan, turning in your bed away from the voice.

“Y/n!” he whined. “Get up, get up. It’s ten o’clock.”

“Five more minutes…” you mumble, hiding your face in your pillow.

“No…now..” a new voice said.

Light flashed through your eyelids, making you wince. Who opened your curtains?

You squint your eyes open, looking around to see Jeongin sitting on the edge of your bed. He had a big grin on his face as he looked at you. You smiled back, looking behind him to see Seungmin standing next to your curtains. Of course he opened them…smug self.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you waking me?”

“You wouldn’t be so cranky if you weren’t up so late…” Seungmin gave you a pointed look.

“It’s your fault…” you glare. “Why aren’t you tired?”

“My fault??”

“Yes…you insisted we binge that new show…”

“If you didn’t like it, we didn’t have to watch…”

“I did like it.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow at you.

You took your pillow and threw it at him, Jeongin shaking his head.

“You missed breakfast…both of you.” Jeongin noted.

“I’m not hungry anyways.”

Seungmin threw your pillow back at you.

“Ow.” you glare.

“Get up.” Seungmin called over his shoulder as he exited your room.

“What’s up? Have we heard from the lawyer?” you ask Jeongin.

“Not yet.” Jeongin rubbed your arm. “Felix wants us to go to the lake today, so get ready.”

“The lake?” you immediately perk up.

“Yeah. It’s so warm out today he thought it would be a nice distraction. So get dressed!” Jeongin encouraged.

 You were quick to get up and find your swimsuit and clothes in your closet, making Jeongin laugh as he left. Last time you didn’t have a swimsuit and were swimming in a t-shirt. This time, you were better prepared, picking out a two-piece that flatters your shape. It’s your favorite one in your collection because of how it looked on you - and because it was your favorite color. 

You threw on a tank top and some jean shorts over your swimsuit, grabbing your sneakers and putting them on too. Then you packed your flip flops, a towel, a book and your phone in a little bag. You put it on, eagerly leaving your room.

Downstairs, everyone was gathered at the kitchen table, talking. Well almost everyone…

“Where’s Binnie?” you ask.

“He’s showering. He’s not going though.” Felix answered.

You pouted. 

“Him and Minho are staying back so they can hear from the lawyer as soon as the trial is done. Reception is spotty at the lake so they want to be here.” Felix explained.

You nod, understanding. “So they will call us as soon as they know something?” 

“Yes we will.” Minho spoke from behind you, making you jump.

You turn around, seeing his mischievous smile.

“You look cute. Take pictures for me.” he winks.

You roll your eyes. “Maybe.”

You turn to go sit at the table but Minho grabs you by your bag, pulling you back. You turn to him, only to be stunned with a kiss. He pulls away slowly, eyes never leaving your lips.

“I want pics of what’s under these.” He whispers, tugging on one of your belt loops. He was still so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

You nod.

“Good girl.” He pecks you once more before retreating down the hall.

You blush, suddenly aware that they all just witnessed that and, thanks to heightened hybrid hearing, they probably heard it too.

“Come eat, y/n. Then we will go.” Jeongin beckoned.

Within thirty minutes, the six of you were on the way to the lake.

“Maybe it won’t take three hours this time.” Felix laughed.

You glared.

“I’m just teasing.” Felix held up his hands in surrender.

“Yeah. And maybe she won’t drown you again either.” Seungmin says.

“I didn’t drown him!” You say with a stomp of your foot. 

You definitely looked more like an angry bunny doing that than as menacing as you were trying to be.

“I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. If Changbin was here, he would back me up.”

“No he wouldn’t.” you say, swatting at his arm.

He dodged it, of course.

“Careful Seungmin. She might try to drown you next if you don’t stop.” Jisung laughed.

“Han Jisung!” You move to hit his arm and he scurries away. 

You move after him, chasing him as he hurries ahead of the group. You chased him for a bit, managing to get nearly half a mile ahead of the group.

“Come here.” you said in a taunting voice, creeping close.

He shook his head.

Huffing, you stop.

“Come here. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He shook his head, smirking. “Lies.”

“No lies. I want you to kiss me.”

Jisung stopped dead in his tracks. He studied you for a second, allowing you to take a few steps closer.

“No, you’re tricking me.” Jisung kept moving away from you.

“I’m not.” You look behind you briefly. “Hurry. Before everyone catches up to us.”

Jisung squinted his eyes at you.

The trail was hilly and you were currently on the lower end, hidden by the elevation behind you.

“I’m tired of all the teasing. You win. I’m asking you to kiss me.” you say, more desperation in your voice.

Jisung stops. 

You approach him, stopping a step in front of him. He closes the gap, staring at your lips the whole time. You bite your lip instinctively, hands gripping his biceps. 

“Kiss me.” you whisper.

He leans in, eyes closing as he anticipates your lips.

Smirking, you dodge and push him down to the ground. He lands on his stomach, stunned. You are quick to pin him down from behind, laughing.

“Haha. I win.” you gloat. “Too easy.”

The rest of the boys caught up, only to laugh. 

“Wow Ji, bested by an omega?” Hyunjin laughs.

“I’m taking a picture for Minho hyung. He’s gonna be mad he missed this.” Jeongin hurries to take the pic.

Jisung groans, managing to buck you off. You fell to the side, laughing. He pinned you down quickly, kissing you hard. Your body hummed with excitement, returning the kiss with equal passion. You two got caught up, a few of the members groaning and walking onwards.

When Jisung finally pulled away, you looked up at him blushing.

“I win.” Jisung notes, standing.

He offers a hand to help you stand up, which you take. You continue to hold hands for a little while, flustered from what just happened. Jisung was also flushed from the kiss, smiling ear to ear and on cloud nine. Your teasing had pushed him over the edge and he gave into temptation, not regretting it one single bit.

It took almost two hours to get to the lake, which was an improvement from the first time. You felt less out of breath and exhausted from the hike too. It seems Changbin’s training was paying off. That and you were better fed now.

Everyone set down their stuff, kicking off their shoes and jumping into the lake. You happily joined in, eager for the cool water on your skin as a relief from the sun blazing down on your skin. Your skin was already a little pink, sunburn threatening to develop. Felix insisted on putting on some sunscreen first so you let him. Afterwards, you took off your clothes and hung them. When you turned around, you caught the boys staring at you.

“What?” you asked innocently.

They were quick to shake their heads, looking away and muttering ‘nothing’. You knew exactly what so you just shook your head. Come to think of it, Seungmin was the only one here that’s seen what’s underneath your swimsuit. It was no wonder they all stared, curious as to what you looked like naked. You were curious too, of course. You wanted to see them all naked at this point. And what better timing than right now.

“We should go skinny dipping.” you suggested.

The boys stopped talking and stared at you as they were treading water.

“Or not…” you trailed off.

“How do you know what that is?” Seungmin asked.

“I remember Jisung saying we should one time when we were back at the house.” 

“Well. Go on then.” Seungmin smirked, gesturing to you.

“Why am I going first?” you asked.

“It was your idea.” Hyunjin smirked.

“Technically it was Ji’s,” you counter.

“Okay. Jisung, you start.” Hyunjin turns to Jisung who looks like a deer in headlights.

“Come on. You guys usually swim naked anyways.” you say, remembering what they said last time you were here. “It’s no different.”

“Um…it is different. You’re here.” Jisung corrected.

“And I’m your soulmate…so what’s the big deal?”

“Um, okay. Fine.” Jisung says.

After a few seconds, he lifts his shorts from the water and throws them onto the shore.

“Okay y/n. Your turn.” he says with a wink.

You started to feel shy as all eyes are on you. But you don’t let it show, remembering what you just said to Jisung, and slipping off your swimsuit. You do it as gracefully as you can while swimming, holding it out of the water before tossing it onto the dock behind you.

“Who’s next?” you ask.

“I’ll go.” It was Seungmin.

Seungmin tossed his shorts on the dock, followed by Hyunjin, Felix, and then Jeongin.

“What now, princess?” Hyunjin asked.

You shrugged.

“Why don’t you walk the dock for us.” Seungmin smiled. “Show us your model walk.”

You splashed him. “No thanks.”

After about an hour of swimming around, playing various games, everyone started to get out of the water for some snacks. You were last to get out, nervous to fully expose yourself. Seungmin brought your towel to the edge of the dock, holding it out for you like a gentleman. You climbed out, quick to wrap yourself up. The boys managed to catch a quick glimpse but they remained nonchalant.

“So Hyunjin… where’s this cave Changbin mentioned?” Jisung whispered to him.

“Just over that hill. Want me to show you?” Hyunjin asked. “It’s really cool but you have to see it for yourself. There’s even a little pool inside too.”

“Like a hot spring?”

“I wish.”

“I wanna come.” you whisper, joining the conversation.

“Sure.” Hyunjin smiles.

The three of you packed your towels and told the others you would be back. You followed Hyunjin with Jisung, making your way up the hill at the side of the lake. It wasn’t a big hill and even had a path to a ledge that could be used for jumping into the lake.

The three of you went through some dense bushes, the branches scratching at your skin. You squeezed through, hurrying to keep up as you hiked further from the picnic spot. 

“How’d you find this place?” Jisung asked.

“I was exploring one day. Looking for a good spot to sketch. I found the cave and went inside. Changbin had been walking with me so I wouldn’t get lost. I sketched for a bit…. We mated for a bit... And then we rejoined everyone. I went home, making more sketches of the place.” Hyunjin explained.

“I think I’ve seen one of the sketches in your room. The one by the far window?” Jisung thought back.

Hyunjin nodded.

“I was wondering where it was from.”

The three of you came through a few more trees before it finally thinned out and opened up to a cave.

“Here it is.” Hyunjin announced.

It wasn’t anything super fancy looking - a rock opening coming out of the ground. Grass and weeds were growing atop it and all around. Some moss growing up the shaded side. There was a dirt path leading straight inside the dark cavern.

Hyunjin led you two inside, ducking a bit at first. It was eerie inside, the sound of water droplets echoing. The floor was damp, the air cool -  a nice break from the heat outside. The walls were uneven, jagged in some spaces. The ground too was uneven - vines and rocks made the path challenging as it slightly descended. 

Hyunjin had his phone flashlight on, illuminating the way until some light was seen ahead. He turned it off, following the light. Rounding a corner, the cave opened up. It was so picturesque inside you gasped, taking in the beauty. 

There was a little pool like he said with clear turquoise water. The water rippled slightly, reflecting the sunlight shining down on it from the two holes above. The light reflected onto the walls, the turquoise hue illuminating them in the cave.

Moss grew along the walls and ceiling around the holes, decorating the space with greenery. The ground was gravel and flint stones, the stones bigger around the base of the pool.

“Hyunjin…this is….gorgeous.” you say.

“I know.” Hyunjin smiled. “A little hidden gem.”

You walk to the pool, running your hand in it, the cool temperature sending a shiver down your back. 

“You can swim if you want. It’s about ten feet down.” Hyunjin guestured to the pool.

“Ten feet?” you exclaimed, looking into the water. “It looks ankle deep.”

“It’s just that clear.” Hyunjin shrugged.

“No way.” Jisung says, putting his towel down and taking off all his clothes.

Jisung goes to step in, first on a shallow ledge before the depth plunges down. He drops, opening his eyes as he sinks down. He touches the ground after a few seconds, the surface definitely a few feet above his head. His ears even started to ache from the pressure.

When he surfaces, you’re at the edge, waiting anxiously.

“It’s definitely deep. And it’s so clear.”

You put down your towel as well, removing your shorts and shoes. In just your swimsuit, you take a breath before jumping in. You splash Jisung in the process, but find yourself sinking a few feet. You open your eyes, looking around. You lock eyes with Jisung and smile, swimming to the top.

“Wow this is insane!” you say.

Hyunjin was sitting on the edge, his feet in the water.

“Join us.” you demand.

“Maybe I’d rather draw you.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Oh, should I pose for you?”

“Do you want to?”

You climb out of the pool, going to lay your towel out. He watches you curiously, a smirk on his lips. Jisung looks around, at the sky above and the cave walls surrounding the room, before watching you as well. You flicked the towel, laying it on a smooth part of the ground next to the pool.  

“Like this?” you ask, standing in a lunge position with your arms stretched out and smiling up at the sky.

The boys laugh.

“Yep. Stay like that for the next two hours.” Hyunjin laughs.

“Two hours?!” you ask, dropping your arms.

“I’m kidding.” Hyunjin stands and comes over to you. “Lay down.”

You look at him confused, but do as he says.

He instructs you to lay on your stomach, one arm straight with your hand dangling into the water. Your other arm is bent, hand resting on the inner elbow of your extended arm. You rested your chin on the bent arm, looking solemnly into the pool. Jisung comes over, pretending to bite your fingers.

“Hey!” you exclaim, making him laugh.

“Wait. Be serious. Ji, just like… look up at her.” Hyunjin says.

Jisung does as he says, looking like a merman finding a curious human. Hyunjin snaps the pic on his phone for reference later. Then Hyunjin positions you differently, snaps a picture and begins sketching.

“How much longer?” you whine.

“It’s been fifteen minutes…” Hyunjin looks over his sketchbook at you.

You sit up. “If I stay like that, I’ll fall asleep.”

“I can sketch that too.” He winks.

You roll your eyes.

Jisung got out of the pool a few minutes ago to dry off, then he sat next to you, a towel draped over his lap for modesty.

“We could have some fun.” Jisung suggests.

“Doing what?” you ask.

Jisung leans forward, kissing you. You return the kiss, feeling butterflies. Jisung’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You squeal, taken back by the sudden movement. Jisung locks lips once more, the pressure of you on his lap making his cock twitch. You feel him hardening beneath you, the feeling making you clench.

“Do you…want to…?” Jisung asked.

You nod.

“Maybe we can convince Hyunjin to join us.”

You turn to see Hyunjin with his eyes fixed on you two. His pupils were blown, chest heaving. He was biting his lip as he put his sketchbook down beside himself.

“Jinnie?” you asked. 

You didn’t need to say more before he was scooting closer to you two. He hesitated before touching you, eager to finally get the chance but cautious giving your past.

“Ar-are you sure? Us together isn’t too much?” he asks.

“No.” you say. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin says.

You look between the two boys, leaning into another kiss with Jisung. After a moment, you climb off his lap, facing Hyunjin and reaching up to cup his cheek. Your thumb grazing over his bottom lip.

“I’ve wanted to kiss these lips since the first day I laid eyes on them.” you whisper.

Hyunjin smiles. “You should have just asked.”

“Can I?”

Hyunjin pulled you flush to him, planting his lips on yours. All the oxygen leaves your body, your whole world turning upside down. You move your lips in sync with his, moving to straddle his lap. He groans as he feels you on his dick. He was already so hard and desperately needing your warmth. His lips were softer than you dreamt of…literally.

Jisung comes from behind you, kissing and nipping at your neck. Hyunjin trails his kisses down to your collarbone as you tilt your neck to give Jisung more access. Jisung pulls at the string on your top, letting it loose. You slide it off and Hyunjin immediately attaches his lips to your nipple, sucking. You let out a moan, throwing your head back. Jisung sucks a mark on your exposed neck, making you grind down on Hyunjin’s lap. 

He groans, moving you so you're laying down in front of him. He slips off your swim bottoms and you immediately close your legs.

“Ah ah. No hiding.” Hyunjin opens your legs, practically salivating. “Look at you, princess.” 

Jisung attaches his lips to your nipple, his hand teasing the other, while Hyunjin kisses just above your core before diving in. His tongue licks through your folds, collecting your essence. He groans, circling his tongue around your clit. 

You arch your back, moaning loudly at his ministrations. The two of them pleasing you at the same time was overwhelming. It felt so good you could get lost in it.

Hyunjin continued to lick and suck, his tongue prodding at your entrance. You were moaning, your legs trying to close around his head as you felt yourself approaching climax. Jisung alternated nipples, before kissing up your neck.

“I’m g-gonna cum…” you moan out after a couple minutes. One hand tangling in Hyunjin’s long locks, your other in Jisung’s.

“Cum for us baby.” Jisung encourages.

His words are your undoing, pussy clenching as your eyes roll back. You moan Hyunjin’s name, panting to catch your breath as you come down. 

Jisung moves between your legs, wanting his turn to taste you. Hyunjin moves away, ridding himself of his clothes.

Jisung licks up your juices, groaning at the taste. “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

“Doesn’t she?” Hyunjin agrees.

Jisung’s delicate licks had you moaning out his name. He didn’t hold back, wanting to taste every drop of you as he alternated between sucking on your clit and prodding you with his tongue. 

Hyunjin came over to you and sucked your nipples, making your back arch once more. He kissed up your collarbone, nipping and leaving love bites. You were in total bliss at the constant stimulation and affection.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build once more, being sensitive from the first. Jisung added a finger, thrusting it while he sucked on your clit. It felt so good, you squeezed your eyes shut. After a few seconds, he added a second finger, curling them to trigger your sweet spot.

“Cum for us, pretty.” Hyunjin coaxed.

Jisung was relentless, sucking hard and fingering you. It pushed you to your tipping point. Before you could announce it, your orgasm hit. You moaned, gripping Jisung’s hair as your legs closed around his head. Hyunjin watched, mesmerized, as your face scrunched in pleasure. He found his new obsession - seeing you like this.

“I think you’re ready for us now, what do you think?” Hyunjin whispered in your ear.

“Yes, please.” You pant out.

“Up on your hands and knees.” Hyunjin says. 

You move yourself onto your hands and knees, muscles feeling weak already. You turned so you were facing Jisung, Hyunjin behind you. Hyunjin lined himself up with your entrance, gripping your hips as he pushed in. He slid in easily, stretching you out. Your eyes closed, head hanging down as you moaned. He was so long he hit so deep inside.

“Fuck…you’re so wet, princess.” Hyunjin rasped.

Jisung rubbed your head, coaxing you to look up. He was kneeling in front of you, his dick erect and leaking precum. With your hand, you guided him into your mouth. Jisung tensed, groaning at the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock. You had done this enough times to know what to do to drive the man crazy. In the past it was to make them finish faster so it would be over, but now it was going to be with the purpose of making him putty in your hands. 

You were actually enjoying it this time as Hyunjin thrusted into you at a steady tempo, his thrusts forcing a little more cock deeper into your mouth each time. Jisung is biting his lip, head thrown back as he tries not to thrust into your mouth.

You alternated between sucking and licking Jisung’s tip, each tease making him shudder. He collected your hair in one hand, holding it out of your face as he watched you take him deep in your mouth.

Hyunjin was moaning as he watched himself disappear inside you. You were so tight and warm he wanted this to last forever. He leaned forward, one hand supporting himself while the other palmed your breasts. He massaged and teased your nipples as you worked Jisung closer to his release.

“Fuck.” Jisung grunted.

Jisung sat back, giving you a break as Hyunjin sped up. You could feel another orgasm approaching as he massaged deep inside your pussy. You tightened around him, body tensing.

“Hyunjin…” you whine.

His speed doesn’t falter as you’re on the brink of cumming. Hyunjin pulls out, smirking when you whine.

“Not fair…” you complain.

Hyunjin moves over, kissing Jisung before pushing his head down to suck your juices off his dick. Jisung groans, taking Hyunjin’s entire length. The sweet taste of you mixed with Hyunjin’s was intoxicating. Hyunjin threw his head back, moaning as he fisted Jisung’s hair. You moved onto your knees, leaning over and sucking on one of Hyunjin’s nipples. He hissed, his cock twitching inside Jisung’s mouth.

Looking down at you with hooded eyes, he gripped under your chin and brought your lips to his. He kissed you with passion, his hand resting on the side of your neck. Jisung leaned up and you began kissing him. Hyunjin kissed Jisung’s neck, sucking marks on it. 

Jisung then moved so that he was between your legs as you lay on your back. He lines himself up, slipping inside and stretching you out. It felt so good, your eyes closed as his head fell forward. Hyunjin moved behind Jisung, pouring some lube he grabbed from his bag onto his dick.

He lined up with Jisung’s entrance, Jisung hovering over you. Slowly, he pushed in, Jisung’s cock twitching inside you. Hyunjin moved slowly, bottoming out. Jisung took a few breaths to relax himself before Hyunjin started pulling out. It was just to the tip before he thrusted back in. Jisung moaned loudly, his eyes squeezed shut. The poor boy was so sensitive.

Hyunjin’s pace got faster, his thrusts forcing Jisung’s cock to thrust into you. You moaned, feeling like you were dreaming. The Nyko pack never did anything like this before and it was turning you on big time.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build again after being denied a few moments ago. Hyunjin stopped moving, Jisung thrusting into you while simultaneously fucking himself on Hyunjin’s cock. Hearing his whimpers and moans pushed you over the edge. You came undone, gushing around his length. Your legs shook, gripping his hips as you rode out your high. His thrusts stuttered as he tried to hold back from cumming.

“Look at our pretty princess.” Hyunjin coos.

Jisung leans down, sucking on your nipples once more before pulling out. Hyunjin grabbed Jisung’s hips and snapped into him. He cried out, the stimulation to his prostate sending him over the edge. Spurts of cum shot onto your stomach as he moaned.

“Fuck…Jinnie.” he panted.

Sitting back on his heels, Hyunjin slipped from Jisung’s tight hole. Jisung turned around, sucking Hyunjin’s cock clean. Hyunjin lifted his face as well, kissing his lips as he stroked his still hard cock. Jisung’s body jerked at the touch, him moaning into the kiss.

Hyunjin moved to lay next to you. You climbed on top of him, hands resting on his chest for support. He lines himself up, then grabs your hips to hold you up. You cry out as he thrusts up into you, his pace fast and relentless. The sound of skin slapping and your cries echoed in the cave.

His thrusts slow, and you begin grinding on him, rolling your hips. He moans your name, reaching up and teasing your nipples as he does. You grind your hips, feeling his dick so deep as it hits your sweet spot. The feeling was indescribable and you couldn’t get enough.

Hyunjin nodded his head towards Jisung who was watching the two of you intently. You looked over as you grinded, chuckling at his flushed face. Hyunjin patted your ass, coaxing you to go over to him. You stood, stepping over to him. He watched with puppy eyes as you stepped over his legs, ass to his face. You sunk down into a squat, dropping to your knees and reaching to line him up and sink down. He layed back, gripping your hips and throwing his head back. He had the perfect view of your ass as you were rolling your hips, making him groan loudly and smack your cheek. You squealed, clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

You grind harder, pushing down onto him, driving him wild. He was a sucker for overstimulation and right now, he was getting just that as you used him.

Hyunjin stepped in front of you, adjusting his stance so his waist was at your height. Your hand wrapped around his dick, licking up the length of it before wrapping your lips around it. It was so pretty you clenched, earning more whimpers from Jisung.

You began to bounce while sucking Hyunjin, taking as much of his length as you could. Your hand stroked the rest as you alternated between teasing his tip and deepthroating him. Your legs began to burn from all the bouncing so Jisung began thrusting up into you. 

You moaned around Hyunjin’s cock, making him instinctively thrust into your mouth. He gripped your hair, forcing you to hold his cock deep in your mouth. After a few seconds, he released you and you caught your breath. 

“Fuck.” Jisung grunted. “I’m cumming.”

You rolled your hips, clenching around him and making his hold on your hips tighten. After a few seconds he shook, moaning as he bucked his hips. You could feel his cum filling you up as you continued to ride him.

“S-slow..slow d-down.” he panted out.

You giggled, stopping to look back at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed, and lips parted. He looked so cute like this you smiled in satisfaction. 

Hyunjin knelt down, kissing you as he pulled you off of Jisung. Jisung finally opened his eyes, catching his breath as his sweat slick chest heaved. He watched as Hyunjin laid you down. You moaned, pulling him down to you so you could kiss those plump lips of his.

He then leaned over, taking Jisung’s softening cock in his mouth to suck your mixed juices from his tip. Jisung jerked, pushing him off. Hyunjin just laughed, knowing how sensitive he probably was after cumming twice. Hyunjin adjusted himself between your legs, swiping his cock between your folds to collect Jisung’s cum that dripped out and pushing it back in. You threw your head back as he hit so deep. It felt so good, you could go all night with them.

“Gonna cum for me again?” Hyunjin smirks.

“I don’t…I can’t.” you mutter, cut off by a kiss from Hyunjin.

“Come on, princess. I know you have one... more… in you.” Hyunjin gives a few hard thrusts to emphasize his plea.

You moaned, legs wrapping around his waist.

He thrusted hard and fast, building you up for release once more. You felt the coil inside tightening as he hit your sweet spot repeatedly. He knew it was working, feeling you clench around him as your moans got louder. He kissed your neck and nibbled at your skin.

Getting close, Hyunjin sat up and thrusted faster, drilling into you.

“Cum for me, princess. Come on.” he said.

You felt your muscles tightening, your climax just on the verge. Hyunjin licked his fingers and reached down to tease your clit. It was overstimulating, making you cry out. Your orgasm was triggered, legs trembling as you cum. Hyunjin thrusted a few more times, pulling out at the last minute and cumming on your stomach. He grunted, covering you in his cum. 

Smirking, he was proud of himself as he looked down at you - his little masterpiece. He swiped some on his finger, bringing it to your lips. You sucked his fingers clean and hummed in satisfaction at his taste.

Hyunjin leaned down and kissed you. “I knew you had one more.” 

You roll your eyes, kissing him once more.

Hyunjin laid beside you, catching his breath as he relaxed. You looked over to see Jisung in the pool.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Besides enjoying the show? Cleaning up.” Jisung smiled, climbing out.

You bit your lip at the sight - the water glistening on his skin, his wet hair, his waist.

He came over, laying on your other side. You hissed as the cold water dripped on you, provoking him to rub his head on you so his hair got you all wet.

“Ji!” you squeal, squirming.

“Oops.” he shrugged.

You glared and he just kissed your lips. 

“That was so hot.” You note.

“What?” Hyunjin asked.

“Us. You two. All of it.” you shake your head as it replays in your head. 

They chuckled, happy you enjoyed it.Then the three of you laid in silence for a bit, limbs intertwined.

“It’s getting kind of dark…” Jisung pointed out.

“Oh yeah. We should probably head back so we can get home.” Hyunjin spoke. “I’m sure they are wondering where we are.”

You and Hyunjin got into the pool, washing off a bit before putting your clothes back on. Once the three of you were dressed, you began heading out the cave and back to the picnic spot. It didn’t take long, the boys already packed up and dressed when you returned.

“Finally! We’ve been worried sick. We texted and called but you weren’t answering.” Felix came over and hugged you.

“No reception in the cave. Sorry.” Hyunjin shrugged.

Felix pulled back, squinting his eyes at you. He looked down, noticing the marks left on your neck and collarbone in the setting sunlight. You shy away, forcing a smile. You didn’t know if he would be mad, jealous, or sad so you tried to act like nothing happened. He knew - all the boys did of course. Felix and Jeongin knew eventually their time would come, so they didn’t say anything.

Now that everyone was back together, you all began to head back to the manor. It was getting dark fast so you moved quickly. The idea of being in the woods at night brought back unsettling memories for you. Plus all the night sounds creeped you out.

It was a little over an hour later when you all finally returned home. You came up the stairs, finding Changbin and Minho on the couch in the living room. There were a few pizza boxes on the island, ready to be eaten and filling the room with a delicious aroma.

“Hey. Did you hear from the lawyer?” Felix asks wearily, taking in their somber expressions.

“Uh, yeah. We just got off the phone a few minutes ago.” Minho stated, his expression blank.

“And?” Jeongin asked.

“It’s not good guys…” Changbin spoke, looking up to them.

You froze in place, your stomach dropping.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09 @scarlet789 @hxnnielk @thecutiepieme @sillygoosegoose @ihttinniee @kaleigh-2002 @stvrrylove

[fireinmoonshot]

idea for a tyler owens one shot. he broke off the relationship years ago and then you see each other again. maybe you go out for drinks and one thing leads to another. kinda inspired by the song bad idea right by olivia rodrigo.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request in. I'm sorry it took me like a week to get around to writing and posting. I hope you like it. I honestly had so much fun writing this one. I'm not sure how closely inspired it is by the song, but I tried my best to give it that same kind of vibe! 😊💗

You knew that going home was probably a bad idea, but it’d been years since you’d gone back and after a particularly hard couple of months, home was the only place you wanted to be – even with the threat of seeing Tyler around. That’s why, when you’d gone out with friends two nights ago to celebrate your return to town, you hadn’t been surprised to run into him.

The two of you had exchanged pleasantries, saying a quick hello before you’d headed back to your friends. You weren’t avoiding him, but you weren’t particularly interested in a conversation with him either. After all, he had been the one to break things off between the two of you a few years ago. 

It’d been a fairly amicable break-up, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be best friends. Especially since you hadn’t seen him in years. 

You’d assumed that the one interaction at the bar would be the only one. That you likely wouldn’t see him again before you headed back home or before he headed off chasing storms again. Until you woke up to a text the next morning. 

It was nice seeing you again last night. Would you wanna catch up over a drink?

Every fibre of your being told you to say no, but somehow you’d texted Yes back. 

You didn’t put too much effort into your appearance or dress up to meet him at the bar he’d suggested – one you used to go to a fair bit when you’d been together. You hadn’t been there since. Tyler had seen the best and worst sides of you, so you knew he wasn’t going to care if you showed up in your best outfit or your pyjamas. 

It was the smile he gave you when you walked towards the bar and saw him waiting outside for you that made you question whether thiswas a bad idea. You pushed down the feeling in your stomach – the same one you used to get around him before. 

“So, how’s the city treating you?” Tyler finally asked when you were both sat down inside, a drink in front of each of you. “Not being tempted into moving back home?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, it’d have to take a miracle to bring me back home, I think. The city is nice. I wouldn’t call it home, but it’s as good as these days.” You decided to refrain from telling him about the stressful few months at your job, as well as some drama with your landlord. He didn’t need to know about those things.

Tyler, though, had always been able to see through you.

“It’s nice? It’s as good as home? I’m not convinced.”

You stared at him for a moment. He could still do that, even after not seeing or speaking to you for years? It felt like the time had never passed between you, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. You leant towards not, and you knew your friends would agree. 

And… was it possible for Tyler Owens to have gotten more attractive?

“How’s the team? Have you blown up on Youtube yet?” You decided to attempt to change the topic before you got off track or before you said something you’d probably end up regretting. Tyler had asked you out here tonight to catch up, not to rekindle. 

Tyler let out a long sigh, obviously irritated with you changing the subject, and then  switched, his annoyed expression breaking into a grin. “You mean you haven’t been keeping up with our Youtube channel? C’mon, darlin’, we’ve got a million subscribers and you’re telling me you’re not one of them?”

“I’m really not,” you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I don’t make it a habit to keep up with what my ex-boyfriends do, funnily enough. But I’m glad to hear the channel has worked out for you guys. I guess there’s a real market for storm chasing these days.”

“I mean, I tried to keep up with what you were doing, but Boone eventually convinced me to stop once he caught me checking your Instagram right before a chase,” Tyler laughed softly, then paused, as if he was surprised at himself for admitting that right to your face. “Anyway, Youtube is going well and the team are great. Storm season starts soon, we’re all hoping it’s gonna be a good one.”

You paused, your drink half way to your mouth. “You check my Instagram?”

“Key word there was checking, darlin’,” Tyler said. “But yeah, at the start, of course I did. I broke up with you, you left not long after. I had it in my head that I was the reason you moved away, even though you told me I wasn’t, but I still wanted to know that you were okay, that the city was all right and that you were safe.” 

The desire to come clean and tell Tyler everything about your life in the city had never been stronger. You wanted to tell him about your irritating landlord, about the way your refrigerator in your apartment kept breaking down and the air conditioning never worked, about how everyone at work kept looking down on you despite your experience, about the fact that you’d been on so many dates in the last few years since you moved, but none of them came close to Tyler. 

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you took a very long drink from your glass and then sat it back on the table. All the while, Tyler looked at you, reading you with those eyes that he could see through you with. 

“Things aren’t great in the city, are they?” He asked softly.

You didn’t have to tell Tyler anything because he already knew. 

Hearing his words, the soft way in which he spoke them, and seeing the way he looked at you, suddenly became overwhelming. This man, the one you’d been in love with years ago, the one you used to tell everything to, the one who used to be your home, was sitting right in front of you again and making you feel like you mattered again, after months of being made to feel invisible in the city.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You didn’t give Tyler a chance to respond before you were up, making a beeline for the front door, desperate to get some air. If you stayed in that bar any longer, you were sure you’d end up making a bad decision. If Tyler kept looking at you like that and making you feel like the version of yourself you were years ago, you worried you were going to become that person again. 

You let out a breath of relief as you stepped outside the bar, the cool evening air hitting you. It was still spring, the air not quite cold but nice enough to be refreshing on your skin as you walked to an emptier spot just down the street, away from the crowd which had spilled out of the bar the later it got in the night. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Tyler followed you. He always wanted to make sure you were okay when you had been together, and that clearly hadn’t changed, especially with the way he’d just been talking to you. 

He sidled up beside you, making sure to give you enough space, knowing that you needed it. “Sweetheart,” he started. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna talk to right now, but you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

You met his eyes and nodded. 

“I know I’m your ex, but I still care about you. Probably more than I should.”

You’d never wanted to kiss a man more in your whole life.

“Why more than you should?” You asked, taking a step towards him and noticing the way the look in his eyes changed as he looked at you. 

“Because I should’ve moved on by now.”

“But you haven’t?”

Tyler swallowed. “It’s only ever been you.”

In that moment, nothing could stop you from closing the distance between the two of you, cupping Tyler’s cheeks in your hands and pressing your lips to his. Tyler was quick to kiss you back and you could tell that for the both of you, it was just like coming up for air after years of drowning without each other.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his body as his lips moved against yours, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. The fact that you were out on a public street, not far from a crowded bar, didn’t cross either of your minds. All that you could think about was each other and the feeling of each others lips.

When, eventually, you needed to stop for a breather, Tyler rested his forehead against the top of your head, his breathing heavy. “I take it we’re not just talking tonight, darlin’?”

“Not tonight,” you admitted. “We probably shouldn’t have done this, y’know?”

“I know,” Tyler agreed. “But if you think I’m ever letting you go again, you’re wrong.”

You let out a small laugh. “I said it’d take a miracle to bring me back home, Ty.”

His face broke out into a grin. “Didn’t I tell you miracle is my middle name?”

[naomijoestar]

SWAG okay I was just asking if like. La Squadra with a goth reader but the Stand is like one of those little cute clown dolls???

Kinda like one of these if that makes sense??

Masterlist here <3

I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed writing this, I’ve been wanting to give La Squadra something for so long!

You didn’t specify whether this is platonic or they’re dating so I made it platonic, I hope you don’t mind. 💕

(Stand side nots: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

La Squadra with a goth intimidating reader who’s stand is a cute clown

(Bucci Gang version)

Risotto Nero

Risotto eyes you from the shadows, his gaze a piercing mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s used to assessing threats at a glance, and your dark, gothic aura suggests you’re someone worth watching. Expecting a deadly stand to match your look, he’s caught off guard when a colorful, plushy clown appears at your side, giving him a cheerful wave. Risotto’s eyebrow twitches in confusion. “That…is your stand?”

You merely nod, unbothered by his judgmental tone, and watch as the clown suddenly pulls out a giant anvil from behind its back. Without a moment’s hesitation, it hoists the heavy object above its head and slams it down toward Risotto. He dodges just in time, but a massive crater forms where he’d been standing. Now, his interest is piqued.

The battle is intense, with Risotto using Metallica to manipulate nearby iron objects, while your stand counters with cartoonish props that make no sense. When Risotto sends sharp metal scalpels flying your way, the clown produces a comically large pair of scissors, snipping each projectile mid-air before any can touch you. He clenches his teeth, frustrated but impressed, realizing your stand’s unpredictability is a dangerous advantage.

As the fight progresses, Risotto attempts to corner you, but your clown keeps pulling off unexpected tricks: an endless rope to trip him up, a cartoonish boxing glove that launches itself from its body to land a powerful blow, and even a giant magnet that affects his own stand. Despite his usual stoicism, you catch a slight twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth, a rare acknowledgment of respect.

Formaggio

The moment Formaggio sees your stand, he bursts into laughter. “A clown? For you?” he teases, clearly amused by the contrast. He underestimates both you and the clown, finding the sight of it bouncing around in its colorful, knitted outfit hilarious. “Oh, this is too rich! What’s it gonna do? Tell me a joke?”

But as he’s busy laughing, the clown’s wide grin turns mischievous. With a snap of its fingers, it pulls out an oversized mousetrap and sets it right near his feet. Just as he takes a step forward, SNAP! Formaggio yelps, his foot caught in the trap as the clown cackles, its high-pitched laughter echoing.

Annoyed, he shrinks himself down, hoping to slip away undetected, but your stand has other plans. Suddenly, a tiny circus tent appears around him, trapping him inside with exaggerated cartoon walls that stretch and contract whenever he tries to push against them. He scrambles around, bumping into props like juggling pins and rubber balls, each one oversized and ridiculous. Every escape attempt is thwarted by the clown stand, which gleefully watches from outside, tapping its nose as if to say ‘Nice try!’

Frustrated, Formaggio finally escapes, only to be greeted by a pie to the face courtesy of your stand. You can’t help but smirk as he stumbles, wiping cream from his eyes. Lesson learned: don’t judge a stand by its appearance.

Illuso

Illuso sneers, confident he can handle whatever your stand throws at him. He’s unimpressed by the clown’s playful antics, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “That thing can’t possibly stand a chance in the Mirror World,” he scoffs. He reaches out, attempting to drag the clown into his dimension. But as he tries, the clown’s face smashes against the mirror like it’s in a slapstick cartoon, flattening with a loud ‘SMACK!’

Irritated, Illuso tries again, but the clown wiggles its finger at him in a mocking gesture. Then, with a flourish, it pulls out a comically large mallet and begins pounding the mirror. Each hit causes cracks to form in the reflective surface, sending Illuso scrambling to repair it from his side.

Realizing he’s losing control of the situation, he attempts to flee, but the clown is relentless, conjuring up ridiculous items: a huge pair of pliers that it uses to tug on his jacket from the real world, a tube of glue that it splatters across the mirror to trap him, and even a giant, inflatable hammer that bounces him around when he tries to escape. By the end, Illuso is fuming, his pride wounded as he’s bested by what he initially thought was a “harmless joke.”

Prosciutto

Prosciutto gives your clown stand a cold, judgmental look. “How ridiculous,” he mutters, activating The Grateful Dead to age it immediately. He expects the clown to crumble like any other target, but instead, the clown’s cheerful expression only morphs into an exaggerated elderly one, complete with a fake beard and comically oversized glasses. It hobbles around, leaning on an imaginary cane, but still manages to wave cheekily at Prosciutto.

Annoyed, he increases the aging effect, but the clown retaliates by pulling out a huge spray bottle labeled “Youth Juice” and spritzing itself. With a little shake, it reverts to its original state, completely unaffected by Prosciutto’s stand. He grits his teeth, realizing this is going to be more complicated than he anticipated.

As the fight goes on, your clown stand begins to toy with him, pulling absurd stunts to dodge his attacks. At one point, it stretches out its arm impossibly long to reach around him, delivering a surprise slap across his cheek. When he lunges at it, the clown conjures up a banana peel, sending him sliding across the floor in a rare moment of humiliation. By the end, Prosciutto’s usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced with a barely restrained fury as he realizes he’s been made a fool of.

Pesci

Pesci is intimidated by your dark, gothic look, but the clown stand’s cheerful demeanor throws him off balance. He chuckles nervously, finding its antics strangely endearing. He reaches out, almost wanting to pat it, but that’s when the clown’s eyes glint with mischief. Suddenly, it pulls out a gigantic fishing pole, casting the line straight at Pesci’s Beach Boy.

To his horror, it hooks onto Beach Boy and starts reeling it in, dragging him along with it. He panics, trying to regain control, but your clown stand is relentless, pulling out one absurdly oversized object after another: a big rubber chicken that smacks him across the face, a fake tunnel painted on the wall that he crashes into, and even a gigantic fishbowl that it briefly traps Beach Boy inside.

Pesci ends up sprawled on the ground, out of breath and utterly bewildered, realizing that the “cute” clown was anything but harmless.

Melone

Melone’s analytical mind goes into overdrive the moment he sees your stand. He’s immediately intrigued, trying to understand how something so cute could pack such a punch. He releases Baby Face, expecting the creation to take care of the clown stand quickly. But your clown is ready. It pulls out an enormous vacuum cleaner and begins sucking up Baby Face’s cubes as they approach, each one vanishing with a satisfying “pop.”

“Fascinating,” Melone mutters, momentarily captivated. But his awe turns to frustration as the clown pulls out more absurd props: a giant fly swatter to smack down any cubes that regenerate, a massive cartoonish rubber band that it snaps at Baby Face, sending it flying back, and even a bucket of water it throws in Baby Face’s direction, which somehow shorts out its pieces temporarily.

Melone watches in frustrated fascination, torn between admiration and irritation as your clown completely disrupts his plans. His usual calm is nowhere to be found as he finally realizes that no amount of calculation could prepare him for your stand’s chaotic nature.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio scoffs the moment he sees your stand, launching into a furious rant about how impractical it is. “A clown? Are you serious? How can you take this fight seriously with something like that?!” he shouts, his icy rage fueling White Album’s powers. He expects you to be intimidated, but your clown merely giggles and pulls out an enormous fan, blowing back his freezing attacks with ease.

As Ghiaccio’s temper flares, the clown pulls out a barrage of comedic props: rubber chickens, cream pies, and a mallet that’s almost as big as he is. Each item hits him with perfect comedic timing, making him look increasingly ridiculous as he stumbles, rants, and struggles to stay upright. His face flushes with frustration as he realizes he’s being outmaneuvered by a “stupid clown.”

His final attempt to attack is thwarted when the clown produces a firecracker, tossing it at his feet with a cheeky wink. The explosion leaves him covered in soot, looking like a classic cartoon character after a mishap. Seething, he roars, “STOP LAUGHING!” as your clown grins back, unfazed.

I hope you enjoyed this! If you’d like anything fixed or anything specific don’t be shy to message me and tell me!

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad from parts 1-7 don’t be shy to request it!

[genderqueerdykes]

I saw your post about AMAB Enbies and how non-binary isn’t a monolith and wanted to say I appreciated seeing it. As a 25-year-old socially anxious, autistic, and ADHD AMAB enby person, it’s hard for me not to feel like a lot of trans and LGBT spaces treat me like a fox in the henhouse, especially when there are physical attributes I can’t change, like my height and build, and how “manly” things like my hands and face are. I can’t exactly change my facial structure, nor do I think it’d be authentic to myself if I did or could. (Apparently, it’s a problem to have a well-kempt and styled beard?)

Unfortunately, when I interact with the local trans community, most conversations circle around whether I’m planning on medically transitioning or “getting some work done.” I don’t feel like I have something to transition to; I just need to work on improving my physical and mental health. They also often ask if I’m happy with my style/aesthetics, which I’m not. But it often feels like a catty jab because, one, who has the money for a professional boy-mode-ish wardrobe, a boy-mode/family-safe wardrobe, AND a gender-affirming wardrobe? There is some overlap between those three concepts, I know, but still… I can’t wear a tank top, fun/crazy button-up, and a pair of khaki booty shorts in an office setting, or god forbid, around parents or certain friends. XwX

A lot of my autistic and ADHD tics were “corrected” in harmful ways that have made me more restrained and subdued to a point where my excitement might seem a bit disconcerting at times. I used to talk with my hands a lot and fidget a lot, but since it wasn’t something “good boys” did, the behavior was “corrected” by my parents and the community I grew up in. I’m always kinda anxious and paranoid now in groups of semi-strangers that I’ll make a major faux pas and everyone will hate me or dogpile in correcting me.

Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble in your asks. I just wanted to say thank you for speaking out because some of us are afraid to. ^^;

hey i just wanted to say thanks for sending this ask! i really appreciate it because it irks me that people just participate in this behavior and act like that's what's to be expected or right. it's not okay, and i'm sorry you have firsthand experience with this, but i absolutely do not blame you at all whatsoever. it's fucked up that a lot of spaces for people who fall outside of the gender binary are beginning to police AGAB which is just. absolutely outrageous behavior from a community that is supposed to embrace and celebrate diversity in identity and how we experience gender outside of the binary...

but instead toxic people become obsessed with the biological sex binary. i don't know how to put it any other way than it is transphobic as fuck to say you don't feel safe around an entire group of people with/born with one specific genitals. their genitals have nothing to do you with you! nothing! those are their genitals, leave them the fuck alone! this is LITERALLY the "we don't give a fuck about AGAB" community and bioessentialists and transphobic queers are loudly and proudly excommunicating anyone from the community who was born assigned male at birth or has a penis in general.

i'm sorry to hear that people are so uptight about your body and physical appearance. the thing is that we are supposed to be embracing diversity in our bodies and appearances and experiences but yet they see someone who is... tall? or has a defined chin? or an adam's apple? or dense muscle tissue? or facial hair, like you mentioned? and suddenly they're... a threat? what the hell is this? it's transphobia, that's what it is!

you shouldn't have to transition if you don't want to. the thing about being non binary is that you presenting that way, especially if it's how you want to present, is literally challenging and stepping outside of the gender binary as we know it today. you are not required to go over the top and be the most femme person to have ever walked the earth. you're not required to have surgeries done or take hormones or dress different or change your voice... you don't have to change anything about you that you don't want to. that's one of the core principles of the trans community and we are letting down such a massive part of our family by behaving this way.

you really hit the nail on the head by bringing up your tics. i am so sorry that you have to deal with that worry- a LOT of people who are hostile toward amab transfems, trans women, and transfemmes in general target them specifically because of their mental health and/or neurodivergence. i've noticed this in person, especially if the amab non binary person in question has a loud voice and doesn't notice or has hearing damage and has to speak loudly, if they have tics as you mentioned, if they talk a lot or enjoy long conversations, if they try to explain... anything, people will target them for being "hostile" or for "arguing" when they're doing nothing wrong

people have gotten too comfortable in calling people with these features, especially people with deep voices, facial/body hair and penises, make someone "scary" or "dangerous". people are literally gladly applying radfem logic to the nonbinary community and not questioning it. radfems are attempting to rope in nonbinary afab people as they view them as "confused women," so the more we support this behavior, the more we lose grasp on our own family and community. we can't allow people to think this is okay behavior

i don't understand why people are okay with cis butch women but not okay with butch or gender non conforming transfems, trans women and amab trans people. i despise the notion that amab and intersex people can't be gender non conforming. why is gender non conformity reserved for afab people? has everyone forgotten (or patently ignored) the rich history of amab non binary and gender non conforming people we've had over the many decades of recorded history throughout our community in this modern era?

amab people should be allowed in these spaces, because there are just as many ways for amab people to step outside of the gender binary as there are afab and intersex people. everyone is capable of stepping outside of the binary for their identity and nobody has the right to police what that looks like. nobody. if one genuinely has trauma being around people of certain body types, seeking some type of therapy is crucial, because this is projecting one person's specific trauma on to an entire group of people, and it's spreading like wildfire and becoming the default in these spaces

this is not an attempt to derail, but rather to point out that this affects ALL trans people: fearing these traits in any person of any agab affects trans men, transmascs, intersex people, and other trans people in general. someone can have these features for a variety of reasons. also, if we're leaving out trans men & mascs, and we're leaving out trans women & femmes, AND we're leaving out AMAB people in general... how the HELL is that a trans community? there's no community to be had there whatsoever! that's an echo chamber! that's a radfeminist belief breeding ground!

we cannot let radfems and transmisogynist let nonbinary spaces become "gender non conforming women, afab trans people and people with a vagina only" spaces, because at what point, why are you calling it the nonbinary community? people need to be brutally honest and call those spaces women's spaces, or EXPLICITLY tell people that they are made only for people assigned female at birth. that wouldn't be ideal but it would at least make this transparent so people would know to avoid that and possibly start up their own safer spaces for ALL trans people

leaving out amab trans people no matter how they identify means your space is not safe for ALL trans people. it needs to be safe for every trans person no matter what they were assigned at birth. we are failing a huge portion of our community for no reason other than for people to project their trauma onto a group of people that haven't hurt them. we can't let down our family like that. it affects us all. we are stronger together and the nonbinary communities become more nuanced and develop better resources and enable all trans voices as opposed to 1 very specific type of trans person

thank you for this ask, sorry for such a long winded reply but i am so sick of people being awful to amab trans people in general. you deserve to be able to be non binary openly and talk about it with other queer people. i hope you're able to find safer spaces to be who you are, you deserve that just like any other queer person. you don't deserve to feel like you're walking on eggshells the entire time you're around other nonbinary people because you were assigned a different sex at birth, and you have different genitals than they do... that's literally antithetical to transness as a concept and queer community on the whole

you don't have to adhere to a strict binary just because you are amab and trans, i hate how people tell you and other folks in your shoes those exact things. you know who you are, you are a non binary person, and i hope more people begin to challenge this behavior and speak up for others, because this is literally not queer community. this is petty infighting being influenced by transmisogynist politics that does not belong. that has nothing to do with queer community, that is an attempt by radfems to disassemble our community at every possible level.

please for the love of god stop giving them that. it's hurting us all

[wonyrs]

feeling (un)lucky

nishimura riki x fmr gnr fluff, est. relationship warnings food, threats of breaking up, physical touch (kicking used once) wc 625 + library #

‘ one mistake almost ruins the entire date (but don't fear, for nishimura riki is here!). drabble style

“are you being serious right now, riki?”

your anxiety levels peaked as u stare at your boyfriend in disbelief. he shares your panic and frowns.

“why would i lie about this, babe?” he answers, his tone nervous. niki looked like he was going to shit his pants— whereas you would’ve taken a photo of if it weren’t for the current circumstances. “please forgive me.”

“i’m so close to punching you right now, nishimura. who forgets their wallet on a date at a millionaire’s restaurant?” you whisper-shouted.

there was a server behind you two, secretly eyeing you both in suspicion while handing out the meals. any decibel louder and the security might be called in.

“i’m sorry, okay?” niki pleads, his hands pressed together in a begging motion. you sigh and shake your head.

so much for a date night.

it took both of you weeks of preparation to be able to match the restaurant’s vibe. the establishment being settled at the top of the namsan seoul tower made the prices (un)reasonably expensive.

your boyfriend, who was on your last nerve, dismissed your worries on whether the prices were too high (quote: “i got the money under control. just leave it to me, princess ;).

turns out all his smugness about the finances went back and bit him in the butt seeing as how he forgot his card at home— almost an hour from the tower AND no one is back there to fetch it for him. talk about bad luck.

“if i could just call jay-hyung to go back and bring it here then mayb-“ a voice cut him off. you turn to the sound and your heart drops down to your ass. the last possible person you’d ever want to see.

“excuse me, sir and ma’am,” the staff started off. “we’ve noticed that you’ve… um… been finished for quite some time and,” they give you an awkward smile. both of you reciprocate.

“were wondering if there is anything else you’d like to order, or if you’d like the bill now?” your eyes widen. you whip your head to your boyfriend and signal with your eyes ‘no!’. he looks indecisive and nudges your foot underneath the table.

you held back a remark and resorted to softly kicked his shin instead.

“um… we’d actually like to order this special please,” you point to the menu, “if we can.”

the waiter grins and nods his head. he straightens his posture and walks back to the kitchen, ready to inform the team of the new order.

“riki. babe. love of my life. please call jay right now, i’m afraid this distraction won’t last long,” you lean over the table and grip his hands in yours. niki’s phone was in his hand, dialing the numbers of your potential saviour.

“it’ll be fine, n/n,” he assures you, rubbing his thumb over yours in an attempt to calm you down. “the most we’ll get is a scolding- but at least we won’t wash dishes!” niki laughs.

you roll your eyes and pinch him, inciting a small ‘hey!’ from the boy. while he did relax your nerves- just a little bit- the annoyance from earlier was still there.

with other couples chat in brisk, you two are stuck in a dilemma with only one person to rely on. your hands still intertwined, niki squeezes yours as comfort- whether for you or himself, we’ll never know.

“if we finish this next meal and jay isn’t here, consider this our last restaurant date, ‘ki.”

niki’s eyes widen in fright, practically leaping over the table to grab your shoulders. he shakes you around like a ragdoll while the other customers send over weird stares, their own conversations dimming down slowly.

“wait- please don’t say that, babe!”

note hi!! first drabble kind of bad :P but its ok!! more room for improvement (also TXT at knotts?? ARGHH) @cupidhoons read this before i posted :3

[brokenpieces-72]

Monster!141 x female! Jackalope/wendigo reader

CW/TW: poor eating habits, mentions of eating, mentions of human meat, crying, younger reader, note: in no way am I intending to offend anyone.

This was inspired by both @diejager and @bluegiragi and includes the reader character Hunter. This is also my first fanfiction being posted here and I have a couple to come if this one goes well.

A program is set up for hybrids that are considered difficult to control or dangerous to be around in public. Usually this is when their current living conditions are deemed as unsafe.

A jackalope with little knowledge of their own self fits both sides so locations and positions are set up for them to be in a safe controlled environment to learn how to keep themselves under control.

Price isn’t exactly happy when Laswell brings this to him. He’s not a babysitter and neither are his men. She explains to him there is little to be done and while she doesn’t agree with sending a vulnerable, uneducated, untrained teenager to a military base that deals with monsters, humans and hybrids alike, there isn’t much she can do either. Thankfully she does have some say in it, able to choose who comes on to the base. The files for candidates are sent to Price as well for review and upon looking at yours with a very dark and concerning past, he considers tossing it aside. Then he sees what hybrid you are. Having a few encounters in his past with hybrids like you he figures it would be safer taking you in then letting someone else get to you.

You do receive some training before transferring with a Retainer/handler who watches over you and determines whether you are ready to integrate into society. You aren’t sure if this will really help you join society but you figure it’s better someone taking you in rather than staying in the program. Price intends to put you to work after all and the location isn’t without risk. You’re told there are other hybrids on base, and you assume there will be at least a couple.

The first person you meet is Nikolai, the pilot for the awkward bumpy flight to base. He’s almost twice your height, plenty of people you have met are. You’re not very tall so not surprising, but you aren’t very used to people. Part of the program especially for you is keeping you isolated from most humans. His friendly attitude towards you is a little startling but you warm up to it quickly.

The flight was mostly your retainer setting ground rules and briefing you on what you will be doing. You would be training with him mostly, and doing everything he says. No stuffing your face, meals kept strict, and no seconds or late snacks. Nikolai calls you to the front halfway through the journey and lets you sit next to him. He could overhear your conversation with the retainer, wanted to give you a break from it while wanting to learn more about you.

You don’t have much to say, cause well you haven’t done much on your own. Well you do enjoy drawing, and reading. Sometimes writing is fun but that’s mostly it so far. He tells you a bit about the 141, recounting the small tales but while hinting at what hybrids you’ll be working with.

Soon you land on the base and exit the chopper heading towards the Task Force 141. In front is a dragon hybrid and next to him is a human, both in uniform. Names are exchanged and you’re led inside the base where you meet the others. You notice he’s missing a wing and his tail wrapping around the human’s leg. As a hybrid your instincts tell you what he’s doing. You’re not a massive threat to him being so young, but his body language makes it clear the value he puts in the medic and likely the rest of his men. He read your file, so you can’t blame him for being extra protective. You keep your head down as you’re taken inside with your handler.

You’re introduced to each of the 141 including the human, who asks to do a health assessment before anything else. Your retainer is strongly against this, insisting that you’ve already been cleared and don’t require one. There’s somewhat of a back and forth between them with you simply standing there. Your handler raises his voice and you have to dig your nails into your palm to not run off. You’re wondering if you should offer your own choice or ask someone what you should do while waiting. Price puts it forward that you get a check up so that Hunter can assess your conditions first hand.

You follow Hunter to their station in the infirmary, taking you to a private room. Hunter gets many looks while you follow them from the other soldiers with a couple even following with them to the room. You meet a harpy called Gaz and a werewolf called Soap. They stick closer to Hunter almost in a protective sense. Though each of them give you an acknowledgement. Soap has never smelled a hybrid like you before, and Gaz wasn’t sure what to make of you either. Your rabbit ears and antlers were hardly a cause for alarm though. You weren’t exactly intimidating. Hunter takes you into the private room while the two hybrids wait outside, offering to help them with paperwork and taking you to wherever you need to go next. The examination is very simple, checking to see your vitals, understanding how you worked so Hunter could help you on missions, and learning any instinctual habits you may have.

When Hunter asks you to take off your hoodie and remove your shirt, you do so. Their eyes go wide upon seeing your body. Your retainer’s “work” was evident by your rib cage and flattening stomach.

“When was the last time you ate?” Hunter asks.

When you tell them the last time you ate, they excuse themselves. You wait for about 15 minutes, when there’s a knock telling you to get dressed and come out. Gaz is still there but clearly Soap had left with Hunter. He takes you to a small room for you to bunk in for the next while.

You later find out Hunter had left the room and smacked your retainer for his methods. Even Price had to get involved to keep the two from getting more violent. Hunter is certainly a force to be reckoned with when it comes to patients. The handler believes that limiting your food intake will help you keep control. Hunter doesn’t agree with starving you, but Price can’t really argue with it.

The next while you’re training, and you do everything you can to keep up. Your limits are pushed and Price isn’t about to go easy on you. Partially cause he hopes the retainer will increase your food intake. It’s a lot, and Hunter doesn’t like seeing you running laps and drills knowing you haven’t been eating much. You push yourself hard, not giving in to judgements from humans or the other hybrids. It doesn’t matter if you’re the last or the worst or even fail the most, you keep pushing.

Meals are strict, with small but reasonable portions for you and eating by yourself in your room. For the next while this becomes the routine, with the occasional snack being slid to you by Hunter. It does make sleep difficult and your stomach growls periodically. Soap takes notice right away how bad it is, your stomach is almost like a random alarm for him, that he can’t shut off.

“You hungry?” He asks sarcastically. You shake your head, only for your stomach to object again. Soap rolls his eyes.

“Take a couple.” He says offering you some of his snacks. When you try to turn it down, he starts insisting harder. “Come on, the noise is drivin me bloody mad. Take em, a few won’t kill ya.”

You do so, and you take another couple after. Soon enough he’s slipping you pieces of his snacks when your handler isn’t around, like chips or cookies.

You have to go to school still, off base and some jerks decided to lock in a closet. Despite your protests and pleas they decide to leave you there overnight. You have a few snacks but you can feel yourself getting increasingly hungry, and you know it won’t be long until you lose it. You try your handler but they aren’t picking up. You don’t want to but you call Soap who picks up groggily.

“The hell is callin…” he groans.

“Soap it’s me…I’m really sorry…” there is a quiver in your voice as you talk.

“…kid? The bleeding hell you still doing up? Wait, where the ell are you?”

You explain you’re stuck and hungry and really need help.

“Alright alright…I’m on my way… you need food?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and asks what you want to eat, if there’s any comfort food you have while he’s getting his shoes and pants on.

“Are you mad…” you ask in a small voice he can just barely hear over the phone. He’s been in highschool as a hybrid and had people pick on him, call him a mutt yank at his tail, try to get him in trouble and whatnot.

“I’m mad at the pieces of shite that did this to you. What do you want to eat?” He says. You tell him and wait patiently after he hangs up.

Gaz is woken up, and looks over.

“Was goin on…” Gaz asks.

“Kid is stuck at school. Literally.” Soap says, lacing his shoes.

“She have food?” Gaz mutters rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“No, so I’m getting her some.”

“What she want?” Gaz yawns.

Soap tells him and he orders it for pick up before getting dressed himself.

“What is she still doing at school?” Gaz asked pulling his hoodie on. “Little help?”

Soap helps get Gaz’s wings through the slots on his hoodie as he explains. Gaz can relate. He’s been bullied as well, and hell you’re a kid with a strong will. It’s not fair for you to be pushed so hard only for school to make you feel like shit. They pick up the food and head over to the school.

“Come on.” Soap jogs to the door and tries it. “Mother…they don’t check if anyone’s still inside?”

Gaz takes one of his feathers off and picks the lock. Gaz opens it and Soap shifts and gets in, as soon as he can fit through the door.

“Kid you here?” He yells. Nothing. Gaz comes up behind him.

“I want to make a lassie joke so hard right now.” Gaz admits, while Soap picks up your scent and hurries off up and down the halls, trying to figure out where you are. He starts scratching at a maintenance door. Gaz knocks on it.

“Kid you in there?” He calls.

“Y-yes!” You call back.

“We’re gonna help you okay? Just hold tight.”

“Gaz move.” Soap says. Gaz just barely gets out of the way before Soap manages to smash it in. They find you curled up and clutching your stomach. Gaz flaps away the dust before stepping over the broken remains of the door. He gives you the bag ripping it open and you hands go in quickly. You ravenously eat away at the first thing you get, a still warm hashbrown. One bite and you stand up but Gaz keeps you sitting.

“Don’t choke, finish that first.” He orders. You do as he says a mutter through mouthfuls, “sorry.”

“So what exactly happened?” Soap asks.

“They pulled my ears and kept asking to see my tail… kept telling them I didn’t have one.” You mutter, finishing the hashbrown. “A few of them grabbed me and shoved me in here…kept calling me ‘bunny’ and ‘rabbit’. Said they would stuff me later.”

“No one’s stuffing anything except the assholes that did this and where it don’t shine.” Soap growls. In the dark it’s a little more intimidating with yellow glowing eyes. Gaz stretches a wing around you and gives you another piece of the order to munch on while he helps you out of the room. You go on about how they kept messing with you in various childish ways. The bullies had yanked your ears, played with your antlers and called you a bunny breeder. Gaz and Soap get you into the backseat and encourage you to keep eating.

“You got made fun of by the teachers pet?” Soap asked a little surprised.

“He said I was the new class pet.” You say. “Then he wouldn’t stop saying I had to eat carrots and wasn’t allowed to have any of the snacks I brought.”

“You ignore em?”

“Tried, but then he started telling me I shouldn’t be snacking and had to eat ruffage.”

“Wow…” Gaz says. “You could always threaten to gnaw on his pencils.”

“How’s the food?” Soap calls from the front.

“Good. I should stop though.”

“You almost finished?” Soap says checking on you in the rear view.

“Uh…halfway?” You relay after checking the bags contents.

“Keep eating.” Soap says.

Gaz gives Soap a look.

“One meal won’t kill her.” Soap says quietly.

“Thank you for getting me.” You say.

“Hunter would have my head.”

Sadly your bonding time doesn’t go unnoticed and Price calls you all into the office. Your handler is unhappy you didn’t try contacting him first, and you stay quiet. Price chews out Soap and Gaz for B&E and property damage, until they explain what had happened to you. He’s a bit more lenient but not by much.

You, Soap and Gaz have definitely bonded more and at this point you’ve sort of become the team’s pup. Soap and Gaz teach you to fight hand to hand, and they’re careful with you at first. You’re younger and smaller but you don’t hold back against them. They show you some maneuvers and Gaz uses his hardened feathers for knife training, going slow and giving you the chance to bat away his strikes. Off time is spent with them, getting a chance to go climbing or hanging out in the rec room. Soap teaches you how to play football, and Rudy and Alejandro join in as well. Soap and Alejandro definitely start showing off their speed and strength to the point you and Rudy find it safer to watch from the sidelines with Gaz. One wrong kick makes all your caution warranted, as you have to shove Rudy over and the ball takes off part of your antler and is pierced in the process. Hunter gave Soap a very harsh talking to afterwards, and made sure you were okay.

Your handler over time becomes less and less involved with you but maintains your eating routine. He keeps your training high giving you exercises daily, that keep you busy from dusk til dawn. It’s exhausting and Hunter does express some concern to your handler who eventually gives in and increases your food intake some more.

Soap and Gaz have basically taken over your sparring sessions, keeping you trained and ready for anything. You have found a couple weaknesses when you go one on one. If Soap shifts to werewolf, you can get him with belly rubs.

Rudy had started showing you some tracking skills, and even introduced you to his dog spirits. Both spirits are weary of you at first with the red and black growling while the other stayed close to its vessel protectively. After calming them, Alejandro shifts to a panther or jaguar based on the terrain and becomes the target to track. At first he makes it easy but since you don’t hold back on Soap and Gaz he doesn’t hold back on you. You and Rudy both have to try and find him before he finds you, which is a bit of a 50-50. Your own skills as a hybrid are shown to be useful in more wild and natural terrain. In fact you become the one to be the target and the two of them actually find some difficulty locating you.

“She couldn’t have gotten that far yet…” Rudy is scratching his head, genuinely dumbfounded. Alejandro shifts back next to him looking at his partner.

“Fast learner.” He comments, impressed by your skills.

“Si.” Rudy sighs before jerking forward, hit in the back from behind. “Agh!”

Alejandro checks Rudy’s jacket and finds a stain from a paintball. They both look up and towards where the shot had come from. There they see you behind a tree covered in dirt and mud, trying to hold back the grin on your face. The two men look at you surprised, and even Alejandro is stunned that he couldn’t detect you, while the white and blue cadejo trots over and barks at you, tugging at your clothes with his teeth. The two men look at each other baffled how you got 15 feet away from them without either noticing. Alejandro waves you over to them, while the cadejo playfully tugs at your jacket.

“Fall in corporal, back to base.” He calls over and you get up from your hiding spot. Your legs were dirty and…wet? The ground was damp but you were almost soaked.

“You take a bath Mija?” Alejandro asks crossing his arms.

“No sir.” You answer, shaking your head.

“You’re wet though.” Rudolfo comments, noticing the state of your pants as well.

“Yes sir.” You reply. Alejandro gives a half grin.

“Why are you wet corporal?” He asks.

“The river sir.” You answer. They hadn’t told you about the river nearby, not to mention it was a few clicks further than they had expected you to reach. You take note of their expression and shift slightly in place. “Should I not have…?”

“Por el contrario, you did very well Mija.” Rudolfo says.

“Very good.” Alejandro comments. “You cold?” He asks. You shake your head. There was a chill but it didn’t bother you. They take you back to base.

Missions go fairly well though you are often knocked down. It can be hard when you’re up against many other hybrid creatures. Ghost comes to your aid before any fatal blows can be made, consuming enemies in his shadows when he wasn’t slipping out of them to slit enemy throats. The lieutenant didn’t agree with bringing someone as young as you on missions, and hated that he was playing babysitter half the time. Ghost can sense something off about you though. Maybe it’s your smiling, or your friendliness, of this odd presence that seems to surround you like an aura. Either way, you show yourself to be a fast learner and strong soldier. Your main focus is to incapacitate enemies, even though you’ve been taught where vitals are and how to use a gun and a knife quickly.

“Would make life easier to kill… that’s what soldiers do.” He comments. You look out at the men he’s fed on. You’re quiet thinking for a moment before responding.

“If I killed all of them though…you wouldn’t get to eat as much.” You say with a cheeky smile. His expression doesn’t change.

“Don’t worry too much. Focus on your safety first.”

“Yes sir.” You say losing the smile. He’s not wrong. After that you ask Ghost for help with laying killing strikes. Not in the field but in training. He agrees mainly because you’ve shown promise and a willingness to improve yourself. Knife training with him is rough usually leading to you getting winded and on your back.

The hands on learning is honestly better than anything else though and your exercise routines just become a warm up. You look forward to everything and take everything seriously, asking questions and showing interest in what is presented to you. Weapons training is a bit daunting, as the guns are a bit heavy, but you find your skills work good with unconventional weapons. A slingshot proves strong with you, and even crossbows. Price helps you with improving your poor aim and there are times where you will spend almost an entire night just trying to hit the targets set in front of you.

Your handler is an afterthought except when you get invited to eat with them. He’s right there ready to tell you you can’t eat with them and your food is in your room. You excuse yourself and eat alone again. However on the nights he’s away you do take the opportunity to sit with them, and just bring your food out of your room. The amount while bigger is still small for a soldier, even for a teenager. Most of them assume it’s an insecurity for you so they don’t pressure you to eat more, or comment on it. Soap offers some of his snacks still.

Hunter is instructed when the handler goes on leave to give you meals he has premade for you. They have half a mind to toss them and get you to eat with everyone else, however much you wanted, but they leave the opaque container in your room as instructed.

You don’t eat any of it though. You recognize the smell and are both disturbed and distraught. No. Not that. Memories come flooding back, ones you wanted to stay buried. It takes everything not to break down, and your stomach is churning and begging for sustenance.

Do you tell someone? Would anyone believe you? Should you eat it? No of course not! But you’re so hungry and your mouth is watering. The scent makes your stomach do hard and painful flips, as if there was a grinding wheel whipping around in your belly. You try to look for snacks that you may have hung on to from Hunter but find nothing. The hunger starts to consume your thoughts faster than you’ve consumed anything. Your body starts to alter, you teeth grow sharper, your sense of smell grows stronger and you cling to yourself.

Hungry hungry hungry…starved…

You act fast and get your pillow case, tying it in your mouth, before getting your hoodie on and bolting. You’re fairly agile in your human form and your desire for sustenance drives you forward. Meat is everywhere but you don’t want it. You don’t want to want it. Any soldiers you pass, you keep your head down, and rush past them. You don’t even look up for your teammates calling for you, and instead bolt faster. You finally get outside and sprint for the woods with soldiers calling after you, and trying to stop you to figure out what’s going on. It isn’t long before your body shifts and contorts and you smell meat nearby.

Eat…eat…

Your sudden leave doesn’t go unnoticed. At first, your team saw you and thought you had to hurry somewhere or didn’t see them. Then Alejandro and Soap passed your door while talking.

“Hunter really told you no more football?” Alejandro asks.

“Won’t stop me from playan, but they did warn mae ‘bou-“ Soap and Alejandro both freeze in place smelling the food in your room, the door shut. What the fuck? They look at each other disturbed and in shock. Soap opens the door and his eyes widen in shock seeing what was inside the container.

“Steamin bloody Jesus.” He says while covering his nose and mouth with an arm. Flies buzzed around the human organs you were served in the container.

“The hell kind of diet is this, Mija?” Alejandro says under his breath. Soap puts the lid back on and takes it to Hunter. No way they would do this, but they likely knew who did.

“OI! Hunter!” Soap yells.

“Soap! Gods, please knock next ti-“

“The bloody hell is this!?” He demands holding up the container. Hunter is confused.

“The corporal’s meal? Why do you ha-“

Without wasting anymore time he sets it down and opens the lid enough for them to see. Hunter stands up from their desk quickly, and in shock.

“Soap the fuck is wrong wi-“ Hunter starts.

“The fuck kind of meal is this!” Alejandro barks.

“What?!” Hunter is just as confused.

“This is the corporal’s meal.” Alejandro clarifies.

Hunter is just as disturbed as they are and goes into the storage where the rest of your meals were being kept for the time of his leave. They found more organs and human remains. Hunter wasn’t sure whether to be pissed, disgusted or distraught.

“What the bloody… I’m taking this to Price immediately this is beyond fucked. Where’s the corporal right now?” Hunter demands to know. Soap recalls seeing you running down the hall.

“She’s run off.” Soap concludes. Hunter takes a moment to breath and calm themselves, somewhat relieved.

“She could be anywhere by now.” Alejandro adds recalling your tracking lessons.

Hunter heads for the door and the two hybrids follow as they go to the captain’s office. He looks up from some papers before standing, seeing the door open.

“The corporal is MIA.” Hunter states. Price is confused until they explain what was in the food. Price is angry, ready to roast the retainer upon his return but you are more important along with any bystanders. A search is put out and human soldiers are instructed to stay on base while Task Force 141 along with Rudy and Alejandro track you down. Price knew there was too much of a risk for regular humans to be close to you in this state.

The cadejos catch your scent and lead the search with Rudy keeping a watchful eye for any movement. Alejandro and Soap follow the scent and cadejos with Hunter riding Soap’s back to assist them. Gaz had taken to the sky trying to find you from above and cover more ground. The scent is how they follow you but they know you’re in the area by the sounds of screeches and unearthly clicking. Price hasn’t heard noises like that in a very long time. Ghost advises caution to everyone while he moves through the shadows and senses death all around them. He soon finds it as well.

At first a couple of bisected birds and bitten voles were traces. The deeper they went the bigger the animals. Soon it was small boars that had their meat stripped. There were a few large birds that had managed to escape but were bleeding. A few foxes were limping and cowering in their dens. When the team finally found you they kept their distance with Ghost being the closest to you, discovering why he had felt uneasy around you.

You were gorging yourself on the carcass of a large elk, and stuffing handfuls of blood and raw meat into your mouth savouring every bite. Dark crimson caked your mouth and hands as you continued eating, getting into your hair every time you decided to literally stuff your face. Your boney limbs and sharp fingers clawed pieces off and your jagged sharp teeth tore into thicker, tougher parts. Gaz lands in one of the tall trees while Alejandro circles around slowly and quietly planning to flank you if you tried to bolt, his oanthef form slinking around in the underbrush keeping distant and cautious. Soap proceeds closer, slowly. He has Hunter on his back and at the moment was a muscled riot shield for them. You continued feeding ignoring them all, when Soap noticed the screeching had stopped and heard your muffled whimpers and sobs mixed in with the sounds of your eating.

He moves closer and closer, letting Hunter walk next to him.

You stop eating to wipe your mouth fruitlessly. That’s when you notice the large wolf standing before you, staring at you with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. In the moonlight he could see your tears, lightly cutting through the blood and grime on your face. Your eyes were pure white, and almost void of life. Hunter came up next to him, and you start to scramble back, worried you might go for them.

“Hey hey, no it’s okay. You’re okay…” they reach into their med bag and took out a chocolate bar, tearing off the wrapper for you and offering it. It was like an animal trainer trying to get their charge to trust them. You slowly crawl over, eyes blank and white, but docile.

“Let’s make it a bit smaller.” They mutter. Hunger breaks a piece and you back away again, crawling on all fours. Hunter leans in a bit, offering the smaller piece to you. You take it gingerly and bite down on the candy. When the human medic offers the rest, you dig into it, eating it like nothing had gone wrong. Like you hadn’t run off, shifted and started gorging on the elk carcass right next to you. The area was quiet while your team watched as you continued eating. The snack was so good, so much better than the carcass.

It had happened again. You lost control again. You were a monster and you killed so many innocent animals. Tears continued to fall as the regret set in. When you smell human meat and you’re hungry, it can set you off, making your only thoughts to be “eat”. Animals weren’t as effective hence the number you had taken out. Human food, like the candy, was a middle ground. It would take some time to bring you back to your human state, and taking less to do so.

When you finally spoke, all you could croak out was a small and raspy, “sorry”.

Hunter offers you some more food, proper food, and you eat it slowly, trying not to make yourself sick. First it was the chocolate bar, and then some crackers, an apple, some water, a few carrots. Your beastly features begin to dull, and you feel yourself growing tired. Hunter moves closer with every bite and holds you close while you cry into them, and continue eating the food they give you. Soap curls himself around you preventing escape and trying to comfort you and protect Hunter. Neither of them worries about the blood, they had worse before. Soon you tucker yourself out and Hunter picks you up, and gets back on Soaps back.

“Price, target found and incapacitated. Returning to base.” Ghost said over comms.

“Copy Lt.” Price responded through a long sigh of smoke.

When you woke up you had food next to you on the bed, and Soap asleep in a chair. He wakes up to see you eating the food left for you, and smiles.

“Mornin’ Corporal.” He says.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Don’t. You didna do anythin wrong.” He said. He ruffles your hair which you realize had been cut off rather awkwardly. Apparently the blood was too thick to wash, and cutting it was the safer option. You didn’t mind.

For the rest of your handlers leave, your eating becomes top priority. If you try to skip meals, you’re hauled to the mess hall, or get a protein bar in your hand. You get firm reminders that your actions that night are not your fault. Hunter is ensuring you get your meals at regular times, and that you’re staying healthy in your eating habits. They’ve also taken to checking your weight, and body, which regains some pounds. Meanwhile paperwork is being shifted around and sorted and handed and signed making a report about what happened and the illegal obtainment of human organs and their distribution. Laswell is more than pissed and ensures your handler is kept off base for longer than he had intended to be.

A couple months go by of you recovering and getting into a healthier routine. You mention to your team that your form is much different and (you later learn) the one they had seen happens when you get hungry and are unable to eat. With this comes the chance to show off your monsterous form, which leaves them with surprised looks and a bit of shock. Your human form grows and your head is replaced by a deer skull, while your limbs shed skin and are replaced with natural wood, and your rib cage and a few other pieces are beared for them to see. Like Soap your clothes do get torn up, but you prepared with a blanket nearby.

You look down at them, and step back a little while they stare. Price smiles seeing what you are meant to look like, the full spirit creature. Price approaches you first and you go lower for him to meet your eyes. A hand is place on your skull and tilt your head.

“Welcome to the 141.” He says smiling. Soap steps up and shifts to his wolf form. You get down on all fours for him and he gives a soft headbutt against your shoulder which you return.

“Stuck with us now Corporal.” He barks.

Soap helps you feel more comfortable with your form, and helps you learn to move in it as well, alongside Alejandro. You find that while you’re bipedal, running on all fours does have some speed to it. You’re even more of a natural climber, able to launch yourself off large tree trunks and latch on to the next one, making any large enough forest a parkour playground. The cadejos are weary still but Rudolfo continues working with you on tracking. Alejandro is often busy having to assist the captain with paperwork. Gaz starts helping you instead, making your hiding even more fun, since he has the best sight out of everyone. Now you’re the target even more for them to find, which they assume won’t be hard with your immense size but your terrain becomes a part of you, and you it letting you hide almost in plain sight.

Ghost assists you in ways you weren’t expecting, as he helps you feel more comfortable with death. Now your sparring and take down sessions often come with a small talk. Taking a life isn’t easy, and given your story, he wants you to know you’re defending yourself and others. It’s not uncommon for you to get a bit carried away on missions now, as you’re able to charge with Soap into a fray. Your larger size makes it easy for you to forget your surroundings. It leads to more casualties than knock outs. Price even tells you what he knows about wendigos and works on getting as much information from you about the handler as he can. Price lets you use him as a target now for shooting range, given how much better your aim has gotten.

Your team becomes your family as older siblings, uncles and sometimes even dads. They pass on everything they can to you. At this point they’ve come to see you as the pup in their pack, the one they raise into a fighter and protector for the future.

Visual reference for wendigo form

[dilf-rot]

Avoidant Attachment

based on Anon request :  could you do a fic of meeting Logan and wade in the void and joining the team? Logan and you are into each other but are kinda awkward hide behind being mean to each other wades so over it later on smuttt <3333

Word Count: 5841 

Tags: Wolverine x Reader, Worst!Wolverine x Reader, Logan howlett x Reader, Fem!Reader (kinda?), Wade is here too, Meeting in the Void, Deadpool 3, Deadpool and Wolverine, Laura is Also here, 5 people in a one bedroom apartment is a great idea, Althea is here briefly, dogpool mention, slower burn but like not really, mutual pining, Wade and Laura as wingmen, insults as flirting, eventual smut, One bed trope included, P in V, Riding

AN: This one took a lot longer than I was expecting, probably since I haven’t written Wade before and I didn’t want it to suck, and also because I was quite busy irl. Regardless, thank you for the request and your patience, Hope you don’t mind my interpretation of the prompt<3

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!)

MDNI 18+

—------------------

The Void. Boring as Hell, and yet somehow worse than hell. At least Hell would grant you company, shitty company, but better than the dust and trash here. You don’t even remember why you got put here. Probably some bullshit you weren’t even responsible for. You had a pretty lame set up, just a hole in the ground really. And you’d find garbage to shift through, look for food. You had managed to do pretty well on your own for a decent amount of time. Other than being lonely, and the occasional breakdown, things weren’t so bad.

The air was stale and unremarkable, as was the sky, no sign of oncoming doom or any excitement for the day. Or so you thought. 

Over the horizon of dusty dirt and forgotten garbage, appeared two silhouettes. 

As they approached, inching closer and closer you debated on whether you should interact or just ignore, they didn’t seem like they had been here long. 

You watched closely waiting for your moment to make a move. Listening to them as they approached.

Deadpool. Common, usually annoying. 

But the one with him. That’s a rather rare sight. You had never seen one of him before.

They seemed like they were on a mission, maybe trying to escape from here. If you could escape, maybe you could return to something approaching a normal life again. 

You decide to take the chance.

“Hello,” You pop out from your little shelter. Both men jolt into action, blades and guns drawn. The man in yellow, the interesting rare man, had blades coming out of his hands. “Oh no, not a threat.” 

They regard each other and then put the weapons away.

“Knew I smelt something,” his voice was rough and it added to his appeal for sure. 

“And you didn’t want to say anything? Some blood hound you are!” Deadpool spoke, punching the gruff one in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I know you’re a Deadpool. But you are?” You point to him. 

“Logan,” “Wolverine,” they speak out in tandem. 

“Right, so… what’re you doing this far out?” 

“Not telling you random dirt dweller,” Deadpool looked back towards Logan, and seemed to be weighing his options.

“Ok well, if you decide to be friendly I could offer my help.”

“You don’t look like you’d be of much help,” Logan retorted as he looked you over. You were obviously smaller and not as strong as either of them, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Ouch, I would be offended if you didn’t have hair like kitty ears.” You pointed up at Logan’s hair and he seemed surprised by your response. “I’ve been in the void longer than you, I’m sure I know some things that would be useful to you,”

“Listen, Kid-”

“Yeah, me and Kitty Cat here are trying to get back at that bald freak show of a woman and escape this hell. So unless you know how to do that, I’d stay out of it, dust bunny.” 

You laugh and look at the state of them, confused but still combative, barely holding it together and hardly friends. “That’s a good one. Good luck with Cassandra then, Ketchup and Mustard.”

Deadpool gasps and Logan seems to have the inklings of a smile on his face but it quickly fades when you turn to look at him. You sit down on a nearby piece of rubble and watch as they take a few steps away and start to argue about what the plan is. You smile and wave when they look back at you.

“Ok, so what do you know?” Deadpool asks, rushing back up to you. And so you do your best to fill him in on as much as you know about the void itself and Cassandra. All of which seems to not be that useful to him as he just sort of brushes it off and continues, “Well as much as I’d love to have you on the team sunshine, seems like Wolvie over there isn’t too keen on it.” He points over to Logan, who turns away and kicks some dust and debris around. “But, between you and me, he’s just bad with girls. Especially pretty ones with quick mouths.” 

You blush a bit but return a quick retort, “That’s fine, not like I have anything to escape back to anyway. Good luck, random Deadpool.”

“It’s Wade.” 

“Right,” You wave as he runs back to Logan. You imagined it wouldn’t be that long before you see them again, mostly because you had planned on following them, or at least trailing them for long enough to find a new place to stay. 

—-----------

You meet them again at the safe house with Laura, she drove them here and plopped them down without a word. She had been very welcoming when you had wandered this way in search of food, and let you join them for a quick meal. You had told her that you saw Wolverine, and her interest had been piqued. She explained to you everything that had happened before she was sent here, and the two of you bonded over not having something to return too. Although now, with this Wolverine sitting in the same space, it seemed like her chances were looking up.

You figured you’d let them be once they woke up, and wait it out. By the time everyone had finished their speeches, you just stood behind them and waved. You didn’t have much to say, everyone else had much more valid reasoning for wanting to escape than you. You could hardly remember life before the void, if you even had one. Luckily, nobody ever bothered to press you about it, probably assuming you had forgotten for a valid reason. So when Deadpool- Wade, asked you for your input, you sort of just shrugged. Listening to them all plotting was entertaining at least, you were sure you would be of much use, maybe an extra distraction, at the very least you could cover them enough to get the job done. 

You noticed Logan slip out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. You gave Laura a nod before following him outside.

He had started a fire, and was sitting watching the flames.

“So how’d someone like you end up with someone like that?” You gesture back up to the house, as you stand against a tree, watching the fire flicker in front of him.

“It’s complicated.” He says taking a swig from the bottle.

“It always is.” Silence runs through the trees, nothing but crackling fire and the dead stale air of the void. “At least he seems fun.”

“Hah,” He breathes out.

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“No.” His gruff demeanor drops for a second, the bottle halting as he brings it down from his lips.

“No?”

He looks you over, before turning away.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll say a prayer for your liver,” You reference the bottle in your hand. He nods, and you walk back up to the house, passing Laura on your way in. She’d probably have better luck cracking him than you.

You wondered if you would ever have a chance to mean something to him, to be more than some small tag along he sniffed out in the dirt. If he would ever find you to be a friend, an ally, someone to talk to, depend on. But you hardly just met, and hardly discussed anything other than half baked insults and nihilistic opinions of the void and your futures.  

—----------------

Wade and Logan had somehow convinced the TVA after everything with Cassandra to allow you and Laura to stay in this universe, and you weren’t sure how or why they wanted you to come along. Laura made sense, he felt responsible for her, and to make up for losing her Logan, to make up for missed moments. 

You? You hardly had a clue why they wanted you here. Or why they offered to let you stay with them until you found something else. You were surprised that Althea would agree to having 5 people sleeping in a tiny apartment. You appreciated the shelter, you were just very very confused by the entire situation. 

“Hello my little floor sleeper, how were your dreams? You were moaning about something…” He slides up next to you in the kitchen as you're pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Wade.” You sip from the mug, not answering his nonsense.

“So,” he jumps up to sit on the counter in front of you, “You gonna spill? Tell me all about your honey badger dream fling? I was surprised you didn’t just wake up and mount him right there on the floor.”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, the three of us sleep in the same tiny space, I hear everything.” 

“I’m gonna steal the couch space from you if you don’t drop it.”

Laura had been given a space in Althea’s room since the boys figured she deserved it, and You, Logan, and Wade were stuck in the living room. Rotating between the couch and cheap air mattresses, usually you just stayed on the floor and let Logan and Wade fight over the couch space. Compared to sleeping on grass and dirt in the void, an air mattress was a definite improvement. As long as Mary Puppins didn’t lick you to death in your sleep, it wasn’t a bad deal. 

“Come on, just admit you like Loggie Bear and I’ll get you some alone time with or without the couch.” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Currently, no.”

You sigh, and walk towards the bathroom to change, locking the door behind you as Wade continues to ramble and try to get you to slip and say something about Logan. But you won’t, even if he is right.

There were many nights where you thought about climbing into bed next to him and pressing your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, being held close to him by those utterly ridiculous arms, having him place warm chaste kisses against the top of your head. But you wouldn’t.  

You hardly knew him, and what you knew about him led you to believe that he was not the kind of man to be interested in someone like you. Although he had become more pleasant after having been invited into Wade’s life. Some days he still was that gruff sort of emotionally unavailable man you met in the void, but other days he’s sweet and gentle and kind, usually whenever Laura’s around. It’s as if he’s been given a reason to live again and he’s navigating how to be a person again. 

After you get dressed, you grab your bag and head out, avoiding Wade and his nonsense. You told Laura you’d meet her after her class and go to a cafe she’s been wanting to try. It’s just down the street from the apartment, but the walk is nice and gives you time to get your thoughts back in order. Trying to keep Wade’s pestering from seeping in and getting you to slip up.

When you get to the cafe, Laura is waiting for you outside. You go in and are met with soft florals, sleek wood finish, and the overwhelming smell of coffee. It is so cozy and bright, a welcome break from the dim and crowded apartment. Laura orders something you didn’t know was a thing, and you opt for a simple latte. She finds this funny and smiles at you, “Don’t you want something sweet?”

“No, I’m alright.” You lean against the wall as you wait for your order.

“What’s with you and Logan’s hatred for sugar?” She asks as she slides over to stand next to you.

“I don’t hate sugar, I’m just not in the mood for it.” You shrug and stare at the counter.

“At least you get milk with your coffee, better than black like Logan drinks.” She laughs again and grabs your order when it’s called. The two of you find a nice table by the window and enjoy watching the people passing by. When a particularly handsome man passes by, Laura perks up and asks, “How about that one?”

“He’s alright, not really my type though,” You shrug your shoulders and take another sip from your cup.

“You’re right, I already know your type.” The grin on your face reminds you of how Wade greets you in the mornings.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You look at her quizzically. 

“Starts with an L and ends with an ogan”

You groan, “Don’t I get enough of that from Wade?”

“I think everyone can see it but you, even Al.” She looks up at you from her drink, in a way you both know she’s right.

“Wow,” is all you can muster in response. 

“I don’t know why you won’t do something about it, and look if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I give you full permission to pursue my not Dad kinda Dad.” 

You quickly try to change the subject, and once your coffee's finished and you’ve loitered around, you walk back in a knowing silence. 

You do have some sort of crush on Logan, but you feel like it would be too ideal to expect him to share those feelings. Especially when you aren’t one hundred percent sure what those feelings even are. He is exceptionally good looking, and well built. If it weren’t for his confrontational attitude and lack of expression, you’d be so certain in your attraction. But there is something blocking you from fully admitting it to yourself.

Maybe it is simply your lack of self, having to build back an identity from nothing, that keeps you from knowing if He is it for you. Even though sometimes he is all you can think about. When you catch him playing dad with Laura. When you catch him helping Althea, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he speaks soft and gentlemanly. When he falls asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in his arms. The images of the side he works so hard to hide, the soft domesticity he allows himself so rarely. That is what really sticks in your brain.

Along with the less than innocent images you have carved into your brain. Like that time he forgot you were home and came out from the bathroom only wrapped in a towel. The water clinging to his muscles and dripping from his hair. Or when he had his sleeves rolled up while walking around the apartment, the skin shiny from sweat, and all you could think about was what it would feel like to be held in place by them.

When you remember yourself, both you and Laura have made it back to the apartment. 

—-------

You were surprised that for once, everyone was home for dinner, and it wasn’t even a special occasion. Wade decided that it would be easiest to order some pizzas to avoid having to cook. You didn’t complain, even if you would have preferred a home cooked meal, pizza was fine. Of course he had gone to pick it up and left you with Logan, Laura, and Althea. She, reasonably so, had her spot already picked out in the armchair by the window. Logan and Laura were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, watching something on tv. All the while you sat on the floor, legs folded over each other, leaning back on your hands. 

“Why don’t you come sit on the couch?” Laura had asked, and you knew she already knew the answer, which was that you didn’t want to be so close to Logan that you would be touching. You had been cultivating a very specific environment with him, one where if you could just avoid any close contact with him, you could pretend like your heart didn't ache at the thought of him.

“I’m good here,” You didn’t bother looking away from the tv, which you weren’t even watching. 

“Come on,” Laura patted the cushion next to her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to sit next to the cat,” You looked over your shoulder at them. Logan was leaning back into the cushions behind him.

“I don’t want to sit next to you either,” His tone was only slightly malicious.

“Good.”

“Just sit on the couch,” Laura insisted. 

“No. He reeks, I think the animal dna gave him the scent too,” You waved your hand in front of your nose.

“But I don’t smell,” Laura sniffed her shirt.

“You reek too, ya know?” Logan pointed to Mary Puppins in the corner, “Probably cause you’re always sleeping next to that.” 

“Thanks. She’s actually a better roommate than you.” 

“You all stink,” Althea commented from her spot. 

As you stood up to walk towards the kitchen the door swung open. “PIZZA TIME!” Wade shouted, carrying the stack of boxes into the apartment. 

You ate mostly in silence, as Wade rambled on about something or someone that you had no interest in. Lately he was obsessed with those trashy reality tv shows were people all live in one house and things go wrong one way or another. You felt like you were already living in that, no need to watch strangers go through it too. It’s not that you felt like you were walking on eggshells, or that you weren’t welcome. More so that you were waiting for this whole thing to blow up in your face. 

—---------

It was late in the morning when you managed to roll out of your bed. Logan and Wade had already been awake and were trying their hardest to be quiet. Rather, Logan was quiet, and Wade was not. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, only that Logan mumbled something under his breath and Wade turned to see you sitting up on the floor.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Pancakes or waffles?” He turned to you and you saw he was wearing one of those tacky ‘kiss the chef’ aprons.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stood up to stretch, “Whichever you’re less likely to burn.” 

Wade feigned offense, as you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. “How do you manage to sleep so soundly down there?” Wade called from the kitchen as you walked back into the living room.

“I don’t.” You pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table, still groggy. “Which is why I need to get a job, and my own place.” 

“You’re leaving me?” Wade gasped, and crossed his hands over his heart. “How could you? What about the kids?” He started making a big fuss about it as if you hadn’t told him before that this had been your plan. “I can’t believe you would leave me alone with honey badger and the little ones! I can’t raise them alone.”

“Everyone that lives here is an adult, Wade.”

“Let her be,” Laura said as she slid into the kitchen and sat next to you. She smiled at you and nodded. 

Wade and Logan joined you at the table, sliding the plates of pancakes to you and her. They weren’t burnt, which was progress. 

—--------

You had spent the day job hunting, and apartment hunting, which was not as important since you kinda needed the money first. The cafe you had been to with Laura was hiring, though not having much of a resume due to the whole void and lack of a world thing, probably meant your chances of getting hired were slim. You submitted an application anyway, and to a few other shops and things in the area. Hopefully something would stick.

There really weren't many options in the area for apartments either, but when you ran into the building manager they had mentioned that one of the other units on your floor might be opening up soon. It wasn’t ideal to be in the same building as Wade and the others, but it was your only lead at the moment. 

When Wade got home, he had a sort of look in his eyes, which you had learned meant something was up. And when Laura came home with the same sort of look, you were even more suspicious. 

“What are you two doing?” You asked, approaching them in the kitchen.

“Well I thought I could do something nice for you,” Wade had his hands behind his back, holding something hidden from you. “And Logan,” he whispered but you still caught it.

“What?” Logan appeared from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall.

Wade handed you a piece of paper, “Tada!” You looked over the paper, it was a reservation confirmation for a hotel. “A magical getaway for you and the kitty cat to work out your differences at an all inclusive resort!”

“This is a Best Western.” The dates on the sheet were for tomorrow, Friday, until Sunday morning. 

“Did I stutter?” Wade stood with his hands on his hips.

“Who said I wanted to do this?” Logan asked, coming up behind you to look at the paper. He was so close you could almost feel his warmth against you. 

“Come on, you complain about the air mattress all the time,” Laura started, “This is your chance for a real bed.”

“Ok? So why do I have to go with her,” He was looming behind you, and the deep vibrations of his voice made your cheeks redden.

“It was cheaper to have two guests than one.” 

“Fine,” He walked away. You were also surprised that he would so quickly agree to something like this. As it was so obviously a set up. A plot against you.

“Perfect! Now go get packing!” Wade slapped you on the shoulder, and smiled. You knew this was all his idea. 

—-------

You were expecting this to be a set up, but when you opened the door and saw only one bed you knew it to be true. Logan walks in while you hold the door and he drops down onto the edge of the bed. You sigh as you drag your bag in and make a mental note to get back at Wade later. You turn the TV on to try to dispel the oppressive silence in the room, but all that's on the hotel cable is questionably written Hallmark movies. Logan shifts on the bed, and you hear it creak under his weight. You wonder what he would feel like on top of you, if he would crush you entirely.

 You sit in the chair that's against the wall, peering out through the cracks in the curtains to stare out at the parking lot, the sun is low against the horizon, and it’s surprisingly quiet. You can hear the fabric of the cheap hotel sheets rustling under Logan, along with the sound of his breathing, as he leans back into the bed, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to survive in a small room alone with him.

Despite having slept in the same room for the past few months, this is an entirely different situation. There’s no Wade, or Laura, or Mary puppins, or Althea. It is just you and him, in a hotel room, with one bed. Which was certainly a set up from Wade, in his quests to get you to admit your feelings for Logan. 

“Are you hungry?” You try to break the silence in the most mundane way possible, at least to save yourself from the discomfort.

“I could eat,”

“We could get room service?”

“Fine by me.” You toss him the menu and once you both decide on what to get you call it in. It was going to take a while, so you decided to take advantage of the luxury of a hotel shower. Telling Logan you wouldn’t be too long and to let you know if the food came before you were done. 

The shower is nice, clean white tiles, and a rather standard sort of set up. It is nice to have some time to yourself, despite Logan being in the other room, you try to allow yourself this time to relax. Letting the hot water soak into your skin and soothe your aches and pains. The sound of the water blocking out any thoughts or concerns about the current situation, letting you forget, at least momentarily, that you would be having to sort out the sleeping arrangements. The hotel soap is tropical, but gentle, not too overwhelmingly sweet or fruity. As you lather up you can barely hear the sounds of the tv in the other room. It is so still and unremarkable. It feels normal, but somehow you wonder if you can ever shake the loneliness of time in the void, if you can allow yourself to have a normal life again. As if you can build back something you don’t even remember. As if you deserve this space that has miraculously been carved out for you, for some reason unbeknownst to you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and the noise of Logan’s steps going to retrieve the room service. You quickly rinse and towel off, wrapping up your hair and sliding into the hotel bathrobe. 

“Food’s here,” Logan calls from behind the bathroom door. You wait until you hear him sit back down on the bed before opening the door and returning to your spot in the chair. 

The two of you eat in silence, and you can’t help but notice his eyes on you. You wonder if it is just in your head, or if he is actually trying to steal glances at you from across the way. You tried to ignore him, to stare fully at the trash tv movie, or at the weird art on the walls. Anything but him. If you could just pretend like he wasn’t there, you could make it for the next two nights. 

Although being this close to him in a small hotel room was not the ideal scenario to make forgetting about him easy. His breathing was audible. His presence was palpable. Even the vague scent of whiskey, cigars, and sweat was radiating from his position on the bed. Every little detail filled your mind with a fog, and all that was running through your brain was him. Over and over. Logan was everywhere. 

“You want to sleep soon?” His voice cut through the haze and you practically snapped your neck to look over at him.

“Hm? Oh… uh yeah probably.” You couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes, and you felt like you should disappear so that he couldn’t make you feel so foolish. So utterly trapped by the idea of him. “I can Just take the cushions from the chair and sleep on the floor,”

“That defeats the whole point of Wade’s gift.”

“So?” You started pulling the cushions of the chair and throwing them on the floor.

“You can sleep up here in the bed,” His voice was commanding. It was no longer a polite suggestion. “I don’t bite.”

“Right but-” As you go to protest, he interrupts.

“We can face opposite ways.” 

And so that is how you ended up in your pajama shorts and a ratty tee shirt, in bed with Logan. Who, true to his word, had his back facing you, and you had your back facing him. You could hear your heart beating, and no matter what you told yourself you could not get it to slow down. His presence, only inches away, was consuming you. Your mind is unable to stop racing with images of him holding you down, touching you, eating you alive. Making you squirm beneath him. You squirmed and thrashed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but even with your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t.

“Stop moving,” Logan’s voice was low and rumbly. He turned towards you, and laid his arm over your middle, pulling your back against him. “Go to sleep,” He murmured, his lips against the back of your head. 

He was warm and solid behind you, his body pressed to yours gently. His grasp on you wasn’t tight, but the sheer weight of him kept you firmly in place. As you tried to quell your heart and steady your breathing, you finally managed to drift asleep. And stay asleep, the entire night. 

—-----

The hotel was so quiet and peaceful, and clean, compared to the apartment. You managed to sleep soundly, and stay asleep until late in the morning. You had nearly forgotten about the situation, until you were met with Logan’s arm still snuggly wrapped around you as you opened your eyes.

His lips were pressed to the back of your head, his muscular frame firmly pressed against your back. His grip had tightened in the night, and he had pulled you even closer to himself. As you tried to remove yourself from him, he grumbled against you, “Stay.”

“Logan-” You tried to protest, to escape from the growing embarrassment and heat building up in your body.

“Just a bit longer.” He groaned, and pressed himself further into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the growing bulge against your lower back. 

“Logan, please. Let me get up.” You pushed against his arm, and tried to pull yourself away but you were no match for him. 

“Why?” His voice was losing the grogginess of sleep, he was almost fully awake now. 

“Because-” You tried again to free yourself.

“Don’t you like me?” He sounded cocky, the question perhaps meaning to be playful but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I-” You stiffen, unable to react accordingly. 

“Then, stay.” Taken aback by his words and sudden clingy behavior, you realized that maybe Laura had been right, and everyone, including Logan, could see it. The way you had begun to feel about him, the almost immediate crush you developed as soon as you spotted him in the void, the way you felt thankful to have the chance at life again, simply because you wanted the chance to spend it with him.

You lay stuck in his arms for an unknown amount of time, the silence makes you a little uneasy, but his warmth and tenderness keeps you from leaping away. You didn’t imagine him to be someone so gentle, although you had glimpsed some of his more domestic behaviors when he thought it was just Him and Laura at home, and he would fuss over her like how you would want a good father to do. You felt safe and held by him, the frantic thoughts and anxieties being melted away into the warmth of him and his body against yours. 

As you nearly drift asleep again, he speaks, “Turn around.” And so you do, clumsily, but when you see his face those frantic thoughts and the racing of your heart begins again.  

“So pretty like this,” He murmurs, his face and voice soft. And before you can respond he closes the gap between you, his hand lacing in your hair and pulling you into him as he presses his lips against your gentle and steady. The brief taste of him makes you crave more.

As he pulls away to search your face for any signs of discomfort, you pull him back to you, your hands reaching up to his face to crash your lips into his. You whimper against him as his hands run down your spine and land on your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as he darts his tongue in to meet yours, twisting and tangling yourself with him as much as you can. The months of unspoken tension pouring out of you and dissipating as you desperately try to push yourself against him. You bring your hand down to paw at his bulge, darting your fingers across the fabric of his pajama pants. 

He smiles against you as he catches your hand with his and bring it under the waistband. You gasp when you realize he had not been wearing anything underneath his pants. Your fingers wrapping around him, the warmth and size of him in your hand making your head spin. 

His hands find their way to the edge of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down your legs as he breaks the kiss only for a moment to find his breath. His fingers trace up and down your thighs, pressing gentle circles into the skin before he pushes his hand between them, his palm pressing into you. The brief friction against your clit drawing a short moan from you. His hand rubs against you, the pressure making you grind down to meet him, craving more.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, only for him to grab your hips and pull you on top of him. His back against the bed as he brings you to straddle him. You kick your shorts and panties away, as he pulls his pants down further. His erection springing up against you. You can barely focus long enough to glimpse the size of him, too overcome with greed and arousal. 

You sink yourself onto his cock as his hands guide your hips. You moan at the stretch of it. He lets you catch your breath as you take him down to the hilt. His hands never leave you as he kisses and nips along your neck and shoulders, your head pressed against his shoulder as he begins to rock into you, whispering praises and filth against your skin. 

You grind your hips against his, the head of his cock dragging along that magic spot inside of you that causes the pleasure to build and the knot in your stomach to tighten. He growls in your ear as you tighten and pulse around him. You can feel the pressure building, making your head spin. He slips his fingers into your mouth and you greedily accept them, sucking and licking and kissing along them. He removes them and a trail of your saliva beads down them. He brings them between you to rub circles on your clit. The sensation dizzying, as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are frantic as you practically pant against him, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close, so so close. 

With one steady thrust he snaps the last thread and you come undone around him. The feeling of you cumming around him bringing him to his limit, if he wasn’t so enraptured by you he might have been embarrassed with how quickly you’ve made him cum. His warmth fills you as you come down from your high, hazy and drooling. You smile as he presses you against him. You don’t mind staying like this, you whine when he tries to move.

“Alright, princess. I’ll stay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[muekyn]

can i request eren acting a little crazy? like telling you he loves you so much he won't *ever* let you leave him in a serious tone but you think he's just messing around, being cute (totally unaware of how crazy he can be)

your work is really nice btw, i reallllly like how you write eren <3

a/n: hi hi! thank you so much for your patience, i absolutely loved writing this <3 anything with obsessive/unhinged eren has me at my mercy... and thank you for your kind words aaa im so happy you enjoy my writing! seriously, it means alot! content: pre-established relationship, yandere themes? (more like obsessive), fluff, one teeny tiny mention of death word count: 1.1k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

intense, possessive, enthralling.

that’s the best way to describe eren’s love. he loves fully, he loves completely. he loves until there’s nothing left in his essence, until his bones are withered away, his eyes are dull and tired, and his heart no longer beats.

and he loves you. undeniably so.

eren makes it known to you, every second you two are together. whether that’s a small squeeze of your shoulders, or pressing his lips against your forehead, little acts of affection are thrown your way, very often.

and although he’s undoubtedly sweet with you, he’s colder to others. a bit more hostile. with a piercing toxicity in his voice, and a deeply seeded fire in his gaze, eren does whatever he can to ward off any “threats”.

but in eren’s eyes, everyone’s a threat. no one can be trusted. you’re just too sweet. too sweet for eren to let you out of his sight. too sweet for eren to ever let you go.

you’re such a good person to him. he cherishes that endlessly.

you’re so good. in eren’s eyes, your affection and care for him was something that had to be protected. at any cost.

anyone who dared to disrupt that, even slightly, would pay dearly.

after a particularly nasty week, eren felt himself getting irritable. anxious, even. a few men actually had the nerve to approach you. there was even one bastard that tried to ask you out on a date. all week, there were people staring at you, people talking to you, people flirting with you. in fact, the one filthy rat who asked you out even decided to touch you. just a simple hand on your shoulder, but it was enough.

it was enough to send eren into a state of fuming panic. endlessly, he replayed the scenarios from this week in his mind. whenever he thought back on it, punching the guy who touched you didn’t seem like enough of a punishment.

…what exactly were you doing to him? can’t you see how much he loves you, cares about you, wants to protect you?

was this your intentions? to leave eren scared, threatened, and so violently angry?

the feeling of uncertainty weighed on him, it ate away at him. you needed to be his. undoubtedly. forever.

as the two of you spent time at eren’s place, both of you attempting to relax in his room, he felt his restlessness and anxiety skyrocket.

you sit at the small desk in eren’s room while you halfheartedly tear apart an outrageously expensive piece of bread. eren is sitting a little way away from you, resting himself on the edge of his bed.

“-you know, i’ll never understand why that lady sells her bread for so much more than everybody else,” you say. “it’s not even that good.”

“mmh,” eren simply grunts out, his mind evidently not focused on the casual conversation at hand.

“…you feeling alright, ren?” you hum at him, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “is my bread talk boring you?”

“it’s not that,” eren responds. “i just…”

he goes silent for a moment.

the utterly obsessive feelings eren had, combined with the events from this week, made him slip. just a little.

“…i’m never going to let you go. ever. you’re mine…“ eren trails off. “you’ll always be mine. i know we’re meant to be together.”

“…oh? is that so?” you smile at him, a little giggle falling from your lips. “where is this coming from, hm?”

“i just don’t want to lose you,” eren says, his eyes locked onto you. “you matter to me, more than anything.”

you give him a cute smile, tilting your body so that you’re facing eren.

“aw, that’s sweet of you…” you say, evidently delighted by his words. “you’re important to me too eren.”

“i hope so,” eren murmurs. “…fuck. i’d do anything for you.”

“anything, huh?” you chirp up.

“anything,” eren breathes. “…i’d burn the world for you, you know.”

“well, i hope you don’t do that… i live there,” you say with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“i really mean it…” eren replies.

a deep sigh leaves eren’s lips before he continues his sentence. “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you. honestly, i feel like i could kill someone for you.”

“oh- let’s not go that far…” you trail off.

“i mean- i just... i can’t stop thinking about you… i can’t stop looking at you… fuck- you just really mean a lot to me. i don’t want you to ever leave me…”

he stares at the ground, his eyes locked onto the wooden floor.

“…i’m not going to leave you, ren… ever,” you softly reply, setting your torn bread down.

hastily getting up from your chair, you make your way over to eren. as you take a seat on his plush bed, eren’s attention drifts from the paneled floor to your beautiful irises. once he catches himself looking at you, it’s hard for him to look away. it feels impossible to look away.

eren mumbles. “i wouldn’t be able to handle it. i don’t think i could see you with another person, ever. god… like that guy from earlier. he pisses me off.”

“eren…” you sigh softly.

“fuck- what a piece of shit. no one should be flirting with you,” he spits out, clearly working himself up at this point. “only me. it should only be me. i don’t want anyone even looking at you in that way. just the thought alone makes me want to-“

“ah- i get it, i get it,” you say, taking his hands in yours.

a reassuring smile flashes across your face, trying to deescalate eren’s creeping anger. gently, you give his palms a squeeze. “like i said eren, nothing is going to happen. you’re all i want, all i need. please, don’t worry.”

the tension that was previously evident in eren’s hands starts to ease. the look on his face is calmer, more relaxed.

“god- i’m sorry. i just really love you,” eren breathes to you. “you’re too good to me…i don’t know how i deserve you.”

“oh, don’t say that,” you say, comfort coaxing your voice. “…i love you too, though. just try your best to remember that, okay?”

a slow nod comes from eren. you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. letting go of his hands, you trail your fingers up his forearms, your digits caressing his skin as you wrap your arms around him. your hug is soft and gentle, almost hesitant. there’s a fluttering in eren’s chest, a vibrancy quite literally making him glow as you embrace him.

eren lets a small smile crack through his lips. vulnerability is still undeniably scrawled on his expression. it always is. ultimately, he just wants more of you, more experiences of you, more time with you.

but for now, just hearing your sweet, songlike voice tell eren that you love him, is enough. just feeling your supple skin shyly brush against him, is enough.

everything about you, was enough.

[childotkw]

Tom Riddle sending hate poems to Harry (the new transfer Gryffindor student) and Harry is the only one that reads it with the true intention.

Tom words it just so that to the untrained eye (those that can't see through his facade) it looks like really romantic poems.

He hates them.

…and I dream of slipping beneath your skin.

Harry aggressively smacked the parchment down onto the table, and when Hermione swiftly snatched it away for her and Ron to read, he set his glare across the Great Hall to skewer Tom Riddle through his perfectly coifed hair.

The prick didn’t even turn around, though Harry knew he knew that he was staring at him.

Ron let out a whistle, his eyes flicking over the last few lines of the poem - the threat - and then raised an eyebrow. “Well mate, for a slimy Slytherin he’s pretty smooth, ain’t he?”

“Smooth?” Harry hissed, his neck damn near snapping in his haste to look at his friend. “He’s planning to fucking murder me, Ron!”

“Murder? Honestly, Harry,” Hermione sighed, lowering the parchment and running her hand over it to try and erase the crinkles from where Harry had gripped it too tightly. “While it’s a bit…intense, I’ll admit, have you considered that he just really likes you and is struggling to show it?”

“He could show it without sending me thinly veiled,” he grabbed the letter and flapped it subtly at Hermione, “shit like this that says he wants to slit my throat!”

“He’s not going to slit your throat,” Hermione said sharply - though whether that’s at the idea that perfect Tom Riddle would ever kill someone, or the idea of someone hurting Harry, he couldn’t say. “Maybe you should just talk to him? If it makes you uncomfortable then you should say something. Why don’t you speak to him privately and ask him to stop.”

“And give him the chance to shank me with no witnesses? Ha, fuck no.”

“Harry!”

He ignored her admonishment, and the gentle slap she gave his arm, instead focussing on Riddle because the other boy had turned just enough to glance over his shoulder and meet Harry’s burning eyes with a smirk and a wink.