#no fucking joke i wake up at like 5 or 6 am and then again at 7 or 8 am every single morning these days

[weyrleaders]

the Slightest environmental change will keep me from sleeping/wake me up (if it’s a fucking degree too hot, the tiniest change in the amount of light because i need almost complete darkness, someone breathing in the other room, etc.) so when is the government going to give me a sensory deprivation chamber so i can finally get some FUCKING rest

#it’s even worse now with two more people living in the house #im gonna test and see if my alarm will wake me up through earplugs tonight/tomorrow morning #if so then im going to start using them every night #im also gonna get a fancy sleep mask #no fucking joke i wake up at like 5 or 6 am and then again at 7 or 8 am every single morning these days #and this is after i cant make myself go to sleep until like 2 am #managing 1:30 is honestly an achievement at this point #im so tired yall this sucks i should probably see a specialist

[joonipertree]

How Mikey Loves and Proposes

Okay so some of my headcanons for him align with my beliefs however I am very particular about characterisation so I'm gonna keep it balanced.

Genuinely i think Mikey does not need the paperwork, the title or official testimonies to consider himself your husband. Once he has sort of outgrown 'boyfriend', like maybe he's in his mid to late 20s, he wants a new title because boyfriend was very highschool.

Imagine every single thing a couple could be, it has been done. Shared apartments, pets, joint bank accounts. I genuinely think because of how devoted Mikey is with his people, he would be just as devoted to his partner.

He is a people person, he finds his people and he keeps them close to his chest no matter what happens. He has forgiven his people for the unforgiveable. Very very ride or die type of person. So out of everyone, he is devoted and loyal.

I will say, in cases of fucked up timelines...chances are he would either keep you at an arm's length, push you away and disappear or just be cold. He does this because he considers himself a danger. I don't care if he has hurt his friends, I dont care about dark impulses, that man would never lay a hand on you. Dark impulses are strong, his love for you is stronger.

If he does run away, he will never look at another person ever again. Loyal as fuck.

But we are talking about final timeline so LETS GO.

At some point, he just wants matching wedding rings, he just wants people to look at you and then look at your left ring finger and be like 'oh fuck, they're taken'. You're already his, ya'll probably have matching bracelets or necklaces that he bought with his very first paycheck. But he really craves that moment where you call him 'husband'.

He probably felt connected to you in an everlasting sense from the moment ya'll started dating. This commitment was from the soul from the get go.

So why does it take like 6 to 7 years into the relationship to get married? Firstly I just have a general rule that marriage should come after 5 years minimum because it's paperwork and a big process. You can disagree and just add in your own minimum but again...adding that no matter what, ya'll live together, wake up every morning together, build a future together. At some point, you guys are too busy getting jobs, being adults and hanging out with friends to be like 'ooooo marriage'.

How does Mikey propose?

i think it was spur of the moment, maybe it hit him that OH ya'll arent married and suddenly he has the urge to say it.

And one night, it's 2am and you wanna go on a night ride and he never says no to you so he wraps you in one of his jackets and both of you head on a ride.

And it's peaceful and maybe Mikey is having a moment where he's like 'I have died, been reborn and saved multiple times for this moment. I am meant to be alive so I could be with my person. I'm very happy I am alive.'

And he's blinking back tears, stopping close to a convenience store..using snacks as an excuse to stop.

And while he's walking through the place, grabbing his usuals and your favourites...maybe it's the fluorescent lighting or the way you're picking out the drinks, maybe it's because how you look in his clothes or because it's late and you're here with him getting snacks, maybe he is sleepy and warm that he says:

"I wanna be your husband."

And the place is too quiet to not hear it, the cashier is like 'what the fuck dude, you're gonna get smacked for proposing like that' but you look at him and his teary eyes and lovesick smile and you're just speechless. But you move forward to hold him, he wraps his arms around you and presses you close to him. It's warm and engulfing.

And maybe you give an excited 'yes' or maybe you make a joke about where your ring is or maybe it's a soft whisper of an answer...in any case....the answer had been given way before he had even asked it.

#mikey x reader #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev fluff #mikey headcanon #mikey imagines #mikey x you #tokyo rev x you #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro x y/n #manjiro x you

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / 5: All Is Fair In Love & War

Chapter 4 / Masterlist

Summary: 5.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, bfd!joel, brat tamer!joel

“You were infiltrating his space, now. You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, knife play, lil bit of blood play, breath play, choking, he takes what he wants, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, p in v sex, face fucking, dirty talk <3, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth + a little more this time.

A/N: SHIT’S HAPPENING! I got a little carried away. Lemme know what you think, please? 🤍

“How do you love?”

“Like a fist. Like a knife.”

- Ada Limón

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You had surrendered the recollection of what it felt like to be touched, held, a long time ago. For the person touching you to feel you for themselves, too.

A delicate pass, the very essence of tenderness has materialized into his calloused fingertips. Small hairs from his beard kissing your skin, just as his lips brush up and down your neck. He’s breathing into you, the condensation is warm, making your own sweat drip. Lips whispering, gliding along the delicate curve of your neck, his movement like a goddamn poem.

His fingers dipping into your depth, wet from prodding in your mouth.

Pleasure and pain, almost annoyance at how good it feels. It tickles. It feels wrong, even. Joel dips down and licks your sweat pooling in a tucked-in spot between your collar bones.

It feels heavy with guilt. It feels safe. His thick arms are holding you against his body, he’s making promises in your ear.

It’s not real, though- it’s a dream. A dream you’ve been having for days, over and over. But it never really leaves when you wake, either.

It’s what Joel felt like- will feel like when you meet again. The familiar gnawing in your chest aches. Where does the feeling of him end, and I begin? Am I finally lost within? I’d stay here forever. Maybe that’s what I was meant for… to be lost in the chest of a man in my own brain.

9:45pm, sat on either side of Sarah’s bed in her still-pink room that she’d outgrown years ago.

“Dad says he’ll repaint it once I promise I’ll stay here until I graduate, during the summers at least,” she had said. “I guess that gives me more time to see you since you’ll be here now too.” You corrected her, “Until I can move out of my parent’s house again. Maybe I’ll just live here, it’s better than going back there.” Sarah frowned at the joke, knowing what you had shared about your family to her.

What were you doing? Joking about staying here. This was Joel’s house. He was asleep two doors down. Now wasn’t the best time to be making jokes, but it felt easier than trying to face what was truly happening.

Sarah had promised he was sleeping whenever you snuck through the back door, putting her finger to her lips to quiet you when you were suddenly falling over the molding on the way in the door. You’d never been one for graceful movements.

She held in her giggles all the way until her door was closed, though.

“Were you trying to wake the sleeping bear?”

“Maybe,” you giggled.

And that was the truth. You were terrified, but you wanted him to know you were here.

You were angry at him, but you wanted him. You wanted to see his room, not through a computer screen on a cam website- but in person. You wanted to be near him.

You were infiltrating his space, now.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

It had been 6 days since Joel had shown his face. It had also been 6 days and few minutes less whenever he had left the bathroom you two shared. He decided not to share his plan with you, once again. You were a puppet in his game.

‘Break with him? For him?’ You had, momentarily on the bathroom floor. The sobs were clawing their way out unmercifully, but you also didn’t want to stop them. You had believed what he told you. He held you like a little girl, arms wrapped around you in safety. And you had listened and believed. Why? When has a man ever followed through in their promises to you?

He had left you in the bathroom, fending for yourself on how to clean up the mess he made. He had cleaned up the visible mess of your cum, his, sure, but not what he awoke inside of you.

You looked into the mirror and formed a half smile, looking at the faint shadow of where your mascara had been running.

Your neck was red where he’d wrapped his hand around you.

You took a few more deep breaths and then patted down your dress. There, on the inside of your thigh was his fingertips, branded into your body from force.

You wanted to tattoo him on your body, make him permanent. But you also wanted to scream and throw a fit against his chest. You felt like a child.

When you got tired of looking into your own eyes, you went to go face the truth.

Sarah had found you first, immediately boring into you. Her face was disappointed, frowning. You knew in that moment that she was gone, months of friendship thrown away.

She knew, she knew that there was something going on between you and Joel. She knew you fucked him in that bathroom. She knew he’d been paying you to ruin yourself for him.

You waited for a sharp pain, a crying voice, something.

She quickened her pace and ran to you after she could see that physically, you were fine. But she didn’t hit you. She wrapped you in her arms and the breath you had been unknowingly holding, released. She whispered to you, still holding you tight.

Suddenly the world was spinning, for probably the fifth time that night. But when was the last time you felt like you were standing on solid ground, anyways?

“Dad told me, I’m so sorry, I had no idea or I would have beat his ass myself, I swear to God.” She released from the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

You’ve never been a good liar, praying that your eyes wouldn’t give it away. ‘I’m fucking your dad.’

She looked like Joel in that moment, sounded like him. Concerned, brow set downward.

Joel was standing a few feet away, facing you while Sarah’s back was to him. He was smiling ever-so-lightly here and there as your family talked at him, his eyes lifted from his dad’s face to you. You imagined your eyes were wide, still red from tears, from being handled by him… fucked into the concrete wall.

Your eyes returned to Sarah as she started again.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone! How could you not tell me! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the time. I just thought you would have told me that he wasn’t treating you right, that he was supposed to be here on your big day. I’m sorry.” She said again, softer, realizing she was getting worked up about the ‘wrong’ part of the story, and you probably couldn’t handle that energy at the moment.

You dared look at Joel again, the indention between his brows was visible for a few moments, he nodded his head towards you, looking at you through his eyelashes after looking down at his feet. Play along. Stop choking. Stop starin’.

You returned to her gaze, as she waited for your response.

God damnit, answer her…. C’mon Birdie.

You could still feel his fingers in the back of your throat.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry. I just thought it would turn out differently. He seemed so sweet and interested in me and that usually doesn’t happen so I ju-“

She cut you off, shhhh’ing you.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. This mystery man has spent too much of your time tonight.”

He had told your parents the same story, and they believed him. So much so they didn’t even care to ask you anything, all you got was a “sorry” nod from your mom. Your dad was too busy talking to other family members, probably telling them how hard he worked to get you here.

And yet again, here you were, the victim in a string of lies that weren’t even your own.

The story was simple: you had been seeing some guy for a few months and invited him here to meet your parents on your big night. He didn’t show- and when Sarah came in all excited talking about Chase, it made you upset. Joel followed you because he thought you were upset that he was there without notice, and he didn’t want to worry anyone else in the gallery by bringing your parents into it.

It was good. Why are you surprised? You knew he was a good liar. All your fucking encounters had been premeditated- even today. Maybe even this one, in where he sticks his fingers inside of you and fucks you to tears, then blames it on some other guy.

But it didn’t surprise you how quickly they fell under his spell. You did the same, and all it took was whispered filth in his deep, vibrating voice. All it took was his fist wetly wrapped around his throbbing cock.

Your emotions were never really taken into consideration, and this was another one of those moments- but this time you were grateful. No one asked questions about the mystery asshole again. Except for Sarah.

That’s how you ended up in his house, in her bedroom. You felt like you owed her the ‘truth’ of what happened between you and mystery boy.

You wish the real mystery boy wasn’t her dad. Why couldn’t he have been the neighbor, or some professor from school? You’d never really looked at older men in this manner, before Joel.

Shame was growing deeper amidst the entanglement of lies you felt like you’d eventually get stuck in.

And they were sticking to you, the lies. Thick, heavy. They played themselves over and over in your dreams, dancing in circles and spinning webs.

He whispered to you, “Mine. Mine. Mine, Birdie.” But just in your dreams. You had wings and he washed them gently, petting and taking care of you.

She had texted you at least a hundred times since that night, asking about this guy, wanting to know every detail. So you decided it was best to see her in person, tell her whatever story you could come up with on the spot and then hopefully hear nothing about it again.

“Maybe… maybe I scared him away? I don’t do well with things needing me, or being close to me. Maybe it’s externalized resentment towards the world for having been born as the ‘older sister’ in a broken home, or for having to be the parent of my parents, the house, myself. I don’t like dogs jumping on me and licking me, I don’t like the grabby hands of children, I hate when my mother asks me a question that she could easily figure out herself,” you finish, out of breath from quickly trying to get your thoughts out before they left. Or maybe before you realized who you were telling your secrets to.

And that was the truth. You knew you’d been a shit friend to Sarah. You couldn’t see it getting any better from here, but you also somehow knew what would be worse: losing him even though he wasn’t even yours. He felt lodged in your chest like he was an integral part of your body and its ability to work.

“I think that makes sense,” she nods. “You were in survival mode, you didn’t have enough energy for extra anything- including relationships or extra overstimulation. That’s how dad is, too. I’ve begged him for years to acknowledge the pain, but then put it down for a while. Or let someone hold it with him, at least. He grew up similarly to you, I think.” She pondered on. “I think he would do well with someone caring for him. You too.”

“Uh…” you stuttered, “yeah. He seems like he’s had a rough go at it. From what you’ve told me at least. I remember him being sad that summer he worked on the shed, too, but I guess I just assumed it was cause you weren’t there n’ he missed you. I don’t remember a lot of it though, to be honest.”

“‘Don’t know,” she trails, “he’s always been like that. Even before the divorce. He’s been a hell of a lot happier this six months though. He says he doesn’t know why, just ‘feels lighter.’ I assume he’s seein’ someone, just won’t tell me who. Probably Ms. Tammi down the street… he always eyes her when she’s workin’ in the garden. She’s too young for him though, she’s like 35,” She scoffs.

Damn.

35 is a helluva lot better than 24. But this isn’t the time or place to have that conversation.

Sarah continues on, quickly changing the subject and falling into other conversations as you listen intently, happy to not be at the receiving end of questions at the moment.

You can’t help but wonder what Ms. Tammi looks like. It fades quickly, though.

That’s how the majority of the night went, and you were happily exhausted by it all. The nodding, “yes!”’s and “I agree. I agree”’s, the giggling, the comfort in the face of it all.

Around 3am you both settled down and she gave you a blanket that smelled like their home. It was soft, warm. Sarah put New Girl on and she was out in 5 and a half minutes. You always fell asleep last at sleepovers, unsurprisingly. You didn’t sleep well as it is.

Her room was comfy. Boxes were still littered around from what she brought home for the summer. Her pink walls radiated the soft glow and heat of the lamps. Her TV was dancing across the walls, casting shadows. Her windows were open, welcoming in the cooler, muggy night. Cicadas were still singing their lullabies.

Her walls were adorned with proof that she had been taken care of, loved. Pictures of Joel throughout their life, littered under string lights.

She’d always been a photographer, ever since Joel put her first camera in her hand when she was 5. Sarah had lit up talking about it a few hours earlier. She took the family pictures on their vacations- meaning, she attempted to squeeze her and Joel into the frame, considering how much shorter her arms were than his. He let her, not too worried that half of his face was cut out.

“Always knew you were gonna be somethin’ special, kid.” He had told her.

There were the ones of just him, too. Black and white speckled film. He was turned to the side in one, his profile taking up the whole shot, looking forward. He was younger then, more clean shaven and… just smaller. He looked lighter in a different regard. Happier, maybe.

He looked beautiful, but not the way he does now. The years are present in the fine lines of his face- they are there to tell his story. One you didn’t even know yet but wanted to drown in.

The testament to how much Sarah loved Joel was right here. The proof of how much he loves her, staring back. She had a safe childhood, you think.

And you’re jealous because you can see it; the difference in the two of you. No, you don’t want to be like Joel’s daughter in that way… you just… hate having to admit to yourself that the time for that has passed. Your dad never showed up in that way, and he never would.

He wasn’t the one who covers your cuts and carries you to your bed when you fell asleep watching one of his cowboy shows on Saturday night. He was the type of dad that screamed your weaknesses back at you, stabbing through you- except this time through your back and into your chest; not even looking you in the eyes while hurting the little girl within you, again. And again. And again-

Back to Joel, please. You begged your mind. Your hands were shaking, too. The soft hum of Sarah sleeping next to you brought you back. You hate that it makes your heart swell that much more, the fact he took such good care of her. Such good care that she doesn’t have any inkling of what’s going on between her two favorite people.

She’s sleeping peacefully in a place that’s never been a war zone, and yet here you were. Who would be the first causality?

You drift off eventually, uncomfortable at first because you don’t want to move her bed too much, waking her. Eventually you sleep, and you sleep peacefully despite the elephant on your chest. Despite the war on the horizon.

Perhaps this was the best sleep you’d had in years, even. You felt safe in her safety, in Joel’s.

You dreamt about him again, this time he was bleeding.

And then a crashing in the kitchen followed by a muffled “fuck” caused you to gasp out of your nightmare, and Sarah stirred to your entire body stiffening.

You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.

But God, you have to pee. He scared the shit out of you. You raised off the bed slowly, making sure not to wake her. It had been five or so minutes since the sound, and nothing else had happened. He’s probably getting ready for work, you convinced yourself.

On a Saturday?

You check your phone to see if he had texted you. 5:46am. A new habit you’d formed in the past week since your last encounter. Nothing. Still.

So you tiptoed to the door and cracked it, letting the light from the TV guide you. Her bathroom was three doors down, she had told you earlier in the night. There was a nightlight on, too. You could see it pouring out from under the door.

No other lights in the house, or at least upstairs, seemed to be on. Joel had either left for work or went back to bed, whatever he was doing seemed done.

You cursed at yourself for not bringing your phone with you to use as a light, but it was one long hallway… you could do it. Deep breaths.

You made it halfway when you heard something downstairs and practically peed yourself right then, hurrying your footsteps to the nearest door. You opened it and backed in, looking at the stairs and down the hallway for any sign that he might have seen you.

Nothing. And then a breath that wasn’t yours.

“Oh, now you’re breakin’ and enterin’ into my house? Couldn’t stay away, huh? Coulda just called, Birdie.”

There’s no fucking way.

“Came to see Sarah and didn’t even say hi to your daddy? Mmm, what a shame.” You imagined he was shaking his head, but you couldn’t see too much from the fucking wrong night light in the corner of the wrong fucking room.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl ‘n lay low for a while?”

You turned around, slowly, and there he was. He was in boxers, laying in the bed you’d seen him fuck himself into. It smelled like him in here, too. The sheets were slept in, the same color as the ones he would shoot his spend into, grunting and calling you pretty names.

He was grinning, not even startled by the fact you were somehow standing in his room at 6am.

Lay low? That plan was never shared with you.

Heat washed over you, embarrassment maybe. You wanted to be needed by him, wanted to be grabbed, licked, kissed, handled. You’ve been waiting for him, but he hasn’t reached out. You wanted him to hold you like he held you in that bathroom, except this time you wanted him to push your face into his sheets while he did.

“Answer me,” he growled. He couldn’t have been up for long, his voice still heavy with sleep. It was lower in tone, deeper.

“I’m trying to be a good girl Joel, I-I was just looking for the ba-“

“No. A good girl wouldn’t fuck her best friends dad, n’ call him daddy while doin’ it. She wouldn’t come over and sleep in her bed, just to sneak into her dad’s room, doin’ and lookin’ for god knows what.”

He was enjoying this. He was just as much to blame- no, he was THE person to fucking blame for this.

“That’s fucking unfair, Joel. I came over here to try and put a patch over loose ends that you left whenever you left me in the floor of that bathroom,” you huffed, teary-eyed and still stunned, still sleepy. “I didn’t- I don’t, wanna hurt her.”

He stopped grinning then, sitting up. He didn’t lift his feet off the ground, but you were scared he might.

You felt like that same, scared little girl who was being punished and yelled at for letting a tear slip. But he was fucked just as much as you if this went public, and it emboldened you. You knew he didn’t want to hurt her either.

“You know what’s unfair?” You pointed at him, continuing in his silence.

“You. That I finally made a friend who is so good- so good- and you stalk me? You find me and you use me for some perverted pleasure that your wife didn’t give you, n now I have to pick up the pieces and lie to my best friend?”

He was face-to-face with you, staring down at you, waiting for you to dare open your mouth again. And then, his hand was around your neck and he was forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You don’t know ‘nothin’ ‘bout my ex-wife, don’t ever bring her up again. ‘Specially when you’re standing in my house, in my god damn bedroom. Got it?”

“No.” You gasped out.

His grip tightened.

“No?” He spat in disbelief.

“‘Musta forgot who you answer to. Didn’t know your pussy would forget so fast who she belongs to. Don’t make me put you back in your place, sweetheart.”

His nose meets yours, the hug of your face, faster than his lips. He nudges, wanting more. Sucking, teeth hitting teeth in a want to be as close to each other as possible. He goes for the bottom lip, always, tucking the side of his nose under yours. Gently. Then he returns to your lips and bites down, searching for blood. He get its, and he chuckles.

You gasped into his mouth.

“You need me to ruin you, huh?” He whispered into your hair as he pulled your head to the side, making it easier to suck on your neck. He was nipping at your jaw, licking lines like he had in your dreams. His hands were engulfing you and all you could do was stand there and take it, sucking the pain away from your own lips. Rough palms feeling at you.

You let out a plea for more.

“That’s why you came lookin’ for me? Sweet girl,” he purred, “couldn’t stay away? Want me to take care of you, stretch that tight hole around daddy’s cock, hmm?”

That hit a nerve, deep. You wanted to surrender yourself and hide in his arms. From the world, Sarah, yourself. You wanted to believe what he had whispered to you in the bathroom, you wanted to break against him and rest your bones.

But first, you wanted him to sink his teeth into you. To ruin you. And then maybe he would stick around this time and pick up the pieces.

He was solid, sturdy, safe. You reached up and put your hand on top of his, letting him know this is what you want, giving him the ‘okay’.

He didn’t even need to ask you, you walked closer to his bed and laid yourself over it, ass up, giving yourself to him. He sighed in lust, watching you sink into his sheets, spreading your smell onto them. You turned your head and laid your cheek against the soft, looking up at him.

You spread your legs and struggled out of your shorts, he stepped towards you and ripped them off. You were taking too long. The room was silent, save for both of your breathing.

“This what you needed?” The bed squeaked under you as he pulled you towards the end of and ordered you on your knees. He lined himself up with your core and spit after kissing your cunt with his tip.

The spit hit your pussy, tickling its way down as it dripped. He took his fingers to it, pushing it around and then into your hole. He used it to wet the head of his cock, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos at you, grabbing for the nape of your neck, pulling your hair and hence your head back towards him. It hurt so good, and your neck was at an angle that made it harder for your chest to rise and fall.

He slid into you at the same instance, and the breath you were halfway through caught in your throat, your whole body reacting to his length. Your eyes were watering from the intrusion, from the pain and simultaneous pleasure. He put his palm against your mouth, muting whatever scream had just come out.

And he fucks you while you grunt out sounds each time he hits that spot inside of you. Your eyes roll back, then focus again. His hand blocking not only your mouth but your nose. Your stomach is tighter, trying to fit his size. He’s breathing heavy above you, sweat dripping and falling onto your back, not realizing that he’s cutting off your air supply.

He’s doing what he said he would all of those times, fulfilling the promises he had made. It’s different now than in the bathroom. He was angry then, but he wasn’t in the comfort of his own home. He could do whatever he pleased, now. Sarah under the cover of the whispering TV in her room.

He throws his hips to yours, each one tearing moans from your throat. “There you go.” And suddenly you were seeing faint white lights in the corner of your vision. But you don’t care, you were just tired, blissed out. You felt comfortable under the weight of him, fucking into you. You relaxed and took what he was giving you. Over and over an-

His voice was muffled. He repeated himself.

“Hey, breathe for me, pretty thing.” And you do, forgetting it for a moment. He reached his wrist in front of you, taking your neck between his thumb and pointer finger. “Lemme feel you breathe baby. Gotta listen t’ me.” You sucked in what you could, and he ‘uh huh’ed you, feeling your neck contract and take in the air. “That’s right, just like that. Can’t have you passin’ out on me baby girl. Not there yet.”

He went slower for a moment, aware that he almost suffocated you. But he didn’t stop, and you were glad. He pulled out and decided he’d choke you with his cock, instead. You whimpered at the loss of him from inside of you, but you knew what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him.

You slipped from the bed to the ground, finding it harder to move and get on your knees than you thought. He’d fucked you silly, shaking, raw.

“Can I feel it? Let me feel it.” Ordering, more than allowing, the tip of his cock passed your lips and went straight for the back of your throat. You coughed him out, just for him to return again, dripping your saliva.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he whispered, grabbing fistfuls of hair on both sides of your head as he fucked his hips into your mouth, relentlessly. You felt something warm, wet drip from you and hit the ground next to your splayed legs beneath you.

“Cumming with my cock in your mouth? Knew you were a’ bad girl.” He was breathless, shocked at how you were letting him play with you, limp, almost. Fucked out. On the verge of passing out.

You didn’t know how many times your stomach had tightened and then released. How many times you came for him. You stopped counting after two, unable to do much of anything. Not wanting to be anything, then the person under his touch. Full of him.

And then you were wearing him again, bent over the edge of his bed, hips hurting from hitting the edge of the mattress.

“Joel,” you managed, “pl- please.”

“Now you’re talkin’? Couldn’t get any words out before. Poor baby. What do you need from me?”

“Hurts, Joel.”

He liked that.

“Want me to stop, then?”

“No,” your voice was hoarse.

“Then what do you need? Can’t give it to ya if you ain’t able to say it.”

“Inside. Cu- oh fuck- cum inside me. Please. Please, please.”

He liked the sound of you begging for him to fill you up.

“N’ whose cunt is this, baby? Who do you want to cum inside you?” And those filthy words pulled another orgasm from your hips.

“Your-“ you mumbled.

“Louder. Use those pretty words you know from goin’ ta school.”

“Yours Joel. This pussy is yours, s’all yours.”

“What a good girl.”

He halted as deep as he could inside of you with a groan, growl-like, and he filled you with his warmth.

He stayed inside, afterwards. Not wanting any of his spend to go to waste outside of your womb.

You didn’t say anything, fighting the urge to just fall asleep where you were, in the comfort of his bed. But you didn’t cry, either. And that was a first. He completely defiled you, yet you weren’t breaking under his touch. You felt like, even if it was fleeting, he broke you and then put you back together right. The correct way.

He pulled out and grunted, and suddenly you felt a soft cloth wiping at your core. He placed soft kisses up and down your shoulders and back as he cleaned you up, your goosebumps the only reaction you gave as you closed your eyes.

A few minutes passed.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, running his hands up and down your bare skin.

“Mhmm,” you let out.

“Look at me, Birdie. Need to hear it.”

You rolled over, more awake from the serious tone in his voice.

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.” But he didn’t looked like he believed you.

“Want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“Whatever you want.” Your patience was wearing thin, you just wanted to curl up and sleep, surrounded by him, surrounded by the smell of him, the safety.

You felt heavy.

He lifted himself off of the bed but you didn’t follow where he went, you caught yourself falling asleep again, so you slightly shook your head in an effort not to.

He returned and a hissing sound sprung through the air. Then immediately, something hard, cold, wet maybe? Slid across your skin. His weight was weighing down the bed as he sat back down next to you.

He moved your hair out of your face, rested your cheek against his palm and spoke clearly.

“Want my initials here, baby.” He was holding a switchblade against the inside of your thigh. “Remind you who you belong to while we figure s’all out.”

You were awake now.

He kept the blade there, but his eyes found yours, searching for an answer, praying you wouldn’t get up and run from him.

Instead, you took his wrist and moved it even closer to your core, on the inside of your thigh.

“How ‘bout… here?”

“S’perfect.”

He got off the bed then, sinking to his knees as he settled you comfortably on your back.

The birds were chirping through the window, the orange sun slipping past the blinds and onto his bed, streaking over his face. You welcomed the pain, if it felt anything like his pleasure. You trusted him. And you know you shouldn’t, but who is going to stop you?

He kissed up your legs, starting by leaving wet marks on the back of your knees. He made it to your nude mound and kissed it, too. Gently, soft.

“You sure?” He asked, for once, giving you an out if you wanted it.

“M’ sure, Joel.” He sighed at the sound of his name leaving your lips, sleepily. He reached your thigh and settled the blade comfortably in his hands.

He kissed you one more time in the spot he had chosen, and then he carved his initials into your body, slowly. Painfully. You hissed.

“Want me t’ stop?” He asked.

“No. It feels good.”

It felt like your own version of love, one both of you shared together, secretly.

The warmth spreed as his tongue followed the blood down your thigh, catching it before it fell to his sheets.

-

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @marchai @morallyinept @i-love-rafe @silkiers @gracevnn @scarletsloveletter @smol-beb @loriensasylum

#joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou #joel miller x you #carnal #joel miller fanfiction #pascalsbby #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #dbf!joel miller #bfd!joel #dark!joel #smut #carnal!joel #javier peña #game #Sarah Miller #oneshot #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc #joel x reader #javier gutierrez #agent whiskey #whiskey #pedro x reader #pedro pascal x you

[fanby-fckry]

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

22 hr. ago

I had the weirdest dream last night?!!

I don’t even remember what happened, all I remember was this voice at the end: “You CAN’T trust him. He probably just wants you to draw his stupid horse.” What?!? I follow people who draw horses! I like horses! Why are they being attacked in this way?

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

1 min. ago

It was a premonition.

#sir. #i cannot draw your horse #i can’t draw at all actually #please commission an artist #id in alt text #irl source

( 11 notes )

🪡 niffty-lady Follow

1 hr. ago

gotta love knitting needles. i can make a scarf. i can make a hat. i can stab your eyes out. i can make mittens.

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

1 hr. ago

What was that middle part?

🪡 niffty-lady Follow

46 min. ago

i can make a hat

#irl source

( 2,030 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

1 hr. ago

Any Overlord dead after 1940 can’t make quality entertainment. All they know is WcDonalds, recycled content, planned obsolescence, be bisexual, eat voot loops, and lie.

📺 voxblr4k Follow

49 min. ago

Fight me irl you fake ass motherfucker! I can’t suspend your account but I can kick your ass!

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

49 min. ago

I don’t believe you can do either of those things, Vox :)

#real radio demon broadcasts #irl source

( 21,536 notes )

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

3 hr. ago

i can't do this anymore! i mean i can, and i will, obviously. but i can't fucking do this anymore!

🌕 m00nlight-h0wling Follow

50 min. ago

Area Man Who Has "Had Enough" Wakes Up Next Morning at 6:30 AM to Commute to Work Again

#irl source

( 8 notes )

📺 voxblr4k Follow

52 min. ago

The fucking fake Alastor account stole my joke!!1!

📺 voxblr4k Follow

51 min. ago

Son of a bitch his post has more notes than mine!

#un-fucking-believable #he should be hiding in shame like the real alastor #but he’s out here stealing my fucking posts??? #fuck this fuck this fuck this

( 149 notes )

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

1 hr. ago

What should I get at international hellhouse of pancakes?

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

1 hr. ago

alright

#id in alt text #irl source

( 12 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said

isn’t it disrespectful to write fics about someone you killed irl?

🪡 niffty-lady Follow

Jul 3

I have no respect for Adam. Hope this helps! <3

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 hr. ago

can’t believe Niffty managed to Kill Adam a second time

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

2 hr. ago

#niffty lady #adam

( 210,749 notes )

📺 voxblr4k Follow

2 hr. ago

any overlord dead before 1940 can't use modern tech… all they know is radio, make shitty dad jokes, smile, be asexual, eat people, and lie.

#shitposting in 4k #vagueposting in 4k #irl source

( 11,191 notes )

💥 blitz-the-o-is-silent Follow

5 hr. ago

Look at this shit-ass sine we found in the living world

🩸 simply-moxxie Follow

4 hr. ago

[Image Description: A sign for Lucama Global Methodist Church; Those who eat the Devil’s corn will choke on his cob! // End Image Description]

And it’s spelled, “sign,” sir.

🫀 xoxo-millie Follow

4 hr. ago

country boys make do

#thanks for the id Moxx #irl source

( 69 notes )

⬜️ voxblr-meta Follow

5 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

#meta #fake tumblr dash

( 14 notes )

#unreality cw #id in alt text #and #id in caption #suggestive #fake tumblr dash #fanby’s fuckery #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #moxxie helluva boss #blitzo #angel dust #alastor #vox hazbin hotel #niffty #charlie morningstar #millie helluva boss #loona helluva boss #striker helluva boss #crymini

[shaunamilfman]

More Random HC’s cause I’m waiting to go into work :)

Nat:

- Unironically LOVES shirts that are/have the same energy as “women love me, fish fear me”/“Big dick is back in town” etc. she wears them more often than you’d like

- She lives off of Mountain Dew, Red Bull and hot Cheetos, that’s all she packs for lunch everyday and you have to drop off water and a snack for her at practice so she doesn’t pass out since she barely takes care of herself

Misty:

- was one of those girls that had a thing for the Onceler from the Lorax

- She was def apart of the 2012 tumblr culture, (superwholock or whatever it was) one of those girls that would get a tattoo off of one of the YA books they read, hunger games, Harry Potter, stuff like that

Jackie:

- Either really knows how to play American football and is super invested in the NFL, or does not know anything at all “What is a down?”

- Is SO CLINGY (Derogatory) sure you thought it was cute at first until she gets up at 5 am for her morning practice and wakes you up too so you can “brush your teeth together”. It gets even worse when she’s sick, shes the hugest baby when she’s sick and you know if she gets sick you’re bound to get sick a week later because she’s plastered to your side

Van:

- Legit loves anything you get her, even if it’s kind of a joke. Stupid $2 tourist T shirt? You got it for her so she loves it, childish Spider-Man socks, thinks they’re cool as fuck. Just overall very appreciative and excited to recieve anything from you

Lottie:

- I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; She’s absolutely good at all the fine arts; she can draw well, she definitely can play the piano and violin, bc her rich parents paid for her to have lessons, etc

- She definitely also did some nerdy shit like take taekwondo until she was 14. Idk why I can just imagine this girl in like that white martial arts gi, doing like punching exercises.

Shauna:

- I don’t know if this makes sense but the kind of gf that when you guys go out to eat, you’ll both be quiet/not talk so you can eavesdrop onto people’s conversations and talk about it in the car on the way home

ugh no nat is such a loser she so would. she shows up at your house wearing this

asking her when the last time she drank water was and she's really got to think about it. she gets so shy if you like cook her something though omg

Misty would have crushes on the weirdest fucking cartoon characters and shit I swear. she pulls you a picture of megamind and you're like "... okay"

superwholockian misty i know that's right. misty has like collectors editions of the Sherlock books. she has like an original printing displayed in her living room fr

Misty def had one of those shirts like "heading off to the shire to become a jedi because my hogwarts letter never came."

i take that and I raise you Jackie being super super invested in the NFL but still does not know how football works. she's into the vibes she's just competitive as fuck. you look over and she's googling what a halfback does.

also Jackie totally follows a soccer team obsessively. she has like 5 jerseys and so so much merch. she even buys you some so she can make you wear it. she's so excited whenever there's a game on. she's def screaming at the ref for making a bad call

jackie's dramatic ass makes you sit in the bathroom with her as she showers. your just sitting on the sink with your head against the mirror barely able to keep your eyes open and she's excitedly rambling on like she's on fucking crack.

also i feel like jackie is such a morning person. you're half an energy drink in and barely awake and she's bouncing off the walls at 6 AM

she definitely gets you sick whenever she gets sick for sure. she's expecting princess treatment squared when she's sick. omg you thought she was needy normally?? your ass is not ready.

Van is so fucking sentimental bro she has a whole box dedicated to little things you gave her, even if it was just something you randomly handed to her lmao

artist lottie has such a hold on me tbh I love it.

martial arts lottie def got a participation trophy and a pat on the back i can not see her being good at it lmao

oh no fr shauna is such a hater she loves doing hater activities with you. jackie's talking about jeff or something and yall are like 😒🙄. she always looks straight for you when stupid shit happens.

#soffsh #shauna thoughts 💙 #jackie thoughts 🩷 #misty thoughts 💛 #nat thoughts 🖤 #lottie thoughts 💜 #van thoughts 🧡

[tainoidiot]

Mornings, Afternoons, Evenings.

Jervis Tetch X FoodServer!reader

NOTES: Based on this dumb post I made about a rogue falling for a worker, but instead of a psychiatrist or doctor it's the fucking food service people. (Maybe I'll even open up my requests soon OoooOooO)

----------

Mornings, Afternoons, and Evenings.

That's when he saw you.

Jervis awoke in his small holding room. It's white. A blinding white. He's tired of the bland exterior, where is the color and whimsy of wonderland when he needs it the most? Not to mention he wore this ugly shade of teal as his robes. Any longer and he'd lose it... more.

Jervis was given small privileges by the staff here and there. He wasn't a high risk patient anymore, so that meant he could have a phone in his room. Sure, he couldn't call anyone outside the asylum and he really only used it to ask for the menu items of the day but it's the thought that counts! Oh, and he has all the paper he could ask for! What for? Um...

Okay maybe he didn't have that many privileges. Really all he does is design hats and color anyway.

7:13 am, the phone rings, startling the middle aged man out of his hat creating zone. He hesitated at first, he never had the phone call HIM. So, curiously, he picked up the phone. "Hello?" Jervis asked.

...

Oh, they're just asking for his breakfast order.

BREAKFAST

The man's hungry. "Oh, where is that o-"

Three knocks interrupt his train of thought, and then the door swings open. "Food service! May I come in?" A sing songy voice asks. He's impressed, was the universe listening to him?

"Er, yes. Come in, dear." He stumbled with his words. The nurses usually gave him a light styrofoam type tray for his food. He must be getting better then.

In walks in a worker Jervis had never seen before. The grey work polo, the black pants and shoes, a dangling ID. It wasn't the appearance that got him curious. It was the voice. He needed to know more.

--------

You walk into the room, tray in your arms as you smiled at the man. "Good morning! Hope I didn't wake you up." You chuckle placing the tray on a nearby table. Truly, your customer service voice got people calm. They trusted you. YOU, however, only got paid 17 an hour. Could you give more of a shit? Maybe if you were given 20 an hour instead.

"Oh, not at all.. um.." The man replied, looking at you with soft eyes. "I thought the nurses delivered our trays?" He asked, looking at the breakfast with a smile. You just shrugged "We have a list of patients who we can't serve to physically, but looks like you're not on it anymore." You nod and pump the hand sanitizer bottle before stepping out of the room.

"Wait!" Cried Jervis. You turned your head curiously "Anything else I can do for you?"

"What's your name?"

-------

LUNCH

Jervis couldn't stop thinking about the delivery person he spoke with. Alice wouldn't work a 9-5, er.. 6-7:30, right? Wonderland is a strange place, however. Nothing is impossible. After only two weeks, Him and that mysterious server seemed to hit it off too. They talked about the mess the styrofoam trays make, especially considering how flimsy they are, how some of the doctors got on their nerves, and the exhaustion that was walking around Arkham. During their chat, they explained that they only really serve the box tea to the patients. "BUT if you ask nicely, I can sneak you some different kinds I find in the storage room." The server joked. Jervis hated the unsweetened tea, it was always cold. Who the fuck serves tea COLD?!

After sending in his lunch order, he prayed he'd see you again. They could talk about literature, as you mentioned you hadn't really been reading much as of late. It was obvious what he'd recommend, but it's the thought that counts. Your eyes, your voice, how you for some reason always smelled like mustard. (Apparently that's just how the kitchen smells)

Knock Knock Knock..

Jervis's ears perked up. Watching the door swing open made his heart flutter. Oh, to see your beautiful face, though half covered in a mask with hair tucked away into a hairnet, he didn't care. All he smiled for was that you were here. "Yes, yes! Come in, dear."

As he finally got a good look at the figure opening his door, he noticed.. wait, that's not you. That's someone else entirely. How cruel the universe was! "Um.. You're not.."

They look up at the man and sighed "Understaffed today. One called out sick, another just quit." Jervis was perplexed. Which one were you? Sick? Oh, he wishes he was there to hold you. You must be miserable, poor dear. Or did you had quit? Did you need a friendly ear to lend? Was today that bad?

The server placed the tray on the table and left. Jervis was left alone with his thoughts again, leg bouncing with anxiety. Did you need help? Did.. you need him? Hid heart ached just thinking about it. Maybe it was too soon, and this was the universes way of saying "slow down there." But he couldn't ignore how he felt.

----------

DINNER

Two weeks.

Two WHOLE WEEKS.

Jervis had been released from Arkham. He hid his true feelings of obsession worry from doctors and psychiatrists taking notes in their little booklets. It wasn't fair! You and him didn't even get to say a proper goodbye! And here he is, angrily huffing about as he steps into the thrift store.

He can't really afford nice things, but the tea cups here were truly pretty enough to catch his eye. Sure they looked a bit scattered when one cup had flowers and kittens and another pictures from nature, but that's Wonderland baby! Scattered and strange. Plus, retail therapy was always good.

As he walked through the kitchen ware aisle, he scanned his surroundings for new tea sets or perhaps a kettle. Not many people entered the thrift store on a Thursday evening, they usually come for the Monday sale. But every once in a while, he'd see someone in the same aisle as him.

And God is he thankful he turned his head. Because there you were. In all your glory.

His breath hitched, heart pounding as his cheeks flushed. It was you, wasn't it? His mind wasn't playing tricks, was it? You turned to face him and stopped.

"... Jervis Tetch?"

He gulped. "Y-Yes?"

"I KNEW IT WAS YOU!" Your smile widened as you walked closer to the man. "Holy crap man, you're out already? I figured you would've been, nice to see you!"

Jervis wanted to take your hand into his warm gloved one. God, he couldn't hold back. But he must. "Aha! Yes, yes.. It's good to see you. I didn't get to say goodbye, what happened?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, then remember what he meant "Oh! Yeah, had some stuff to take care of.. and by that I mean I called off "Sick"!" You giggled. Oh, you silly little rabbit. Jervis sighed in relief. You were safe.

"I'm glad to see you're safe.. could we grab a cup of tea perhaps?"

The store was about to close anyway. What else is there to do for dinner?

#jervis tetch #gotham rogues #batman #jervis tetch x reader #headcanon

[the-furthest-city-light]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I was tagged for this by @sciencemyfiction and it looks super fun! I am going to cheat a little bit tho and post only from my One Piece fics as I haven't published anything else since 2018 and I think the writing sample will be more representative of my current styl

Flotsam and Jetsam

"When Big Mom's crew arrives on Zou, Sanji's first thought is, Damn, we didn't fuck 'em up enough before?"

Here I am cheating AGAIN because this line is actually from chapter 2 of Flotsam and Jetsam, "Instead of the Cross, the Albatross," but IN MY DEFENSE it's the only chapter of that fic that was meant to be its own standalone fic. The rest of those chapters are just things I didn't want to consign forever to the desolation of my scrapped file.

2. Found in the Crack of Your Palm

"'Oi, Luffy,' Zoro calls.  He punctuates his bid for Luffy’s attention by toeing his hip with his heavy boot."

3. New Seas Ahead (chapter 1)

“Oh come on.  Please?”

4. spill your wine

"Zoro’s had a shower and a nap and three platefuls of food before the scent of his new captain really hits him."

5. Same Song, Different Verse

"The first time Zoro sees Monkey D. Lucy, the sky is a hard, clear blue and the earth is packed dense beneath his feet."

6. New Seas Ahead (chapter 28)

"How is she doing that though?”

“It’s a mystery, Usopp.”

“She’s like a human trash compactor…”

7. New Seas Ahead (chapter 27)

"The oniwabanshu should have an easier time following them in the snow, but they don’t see another attack after Hakumai."

8. New Seas Ahead (chapter 26)

"When he wakes up, Zoro’s surprisingly not feeling like complete shit."

9. New Seas Ahead (chapter 25)

"Tama turns out to be fine, which is a relief.  And she eats the oshiruko well when they convince her to actually accept it."

10. New Seas Ahead (chapter 24)

"Are we there yet?"

I was actually super nervous to do this because hooks and opening lines are not my strong suit as a writer. My thoughts about the above are pretty much what I already knew. I have a tendency to set the place of any given scene before anything else. It's present even at the start of fics/scenes where the lines aren't explicitly about the sense of place or setting, and I usually accomplish this by calling reference to some time or place that the reader, as a One Piece fan, will undoubtedly be very familiar with and will instantly be able to recall the wheres and whens of the given scene.

In part this is intentional because in the Fair Winds and Following seas series specifically I jump over or outright skip certain events and catching the reader up to where we are now as efficiently as possible is important. HOWEVER, I definitely have a tendency to over-rely on this strategy, which is something I'm definitely thinking about and considering as I've been writing some original fiction!

Alternatively, four of the above entries begin with outright dialogue which is, funnily enough, my least favorite way to start a scene. I usually do it for the sake of a joke and to set the tone and sometimes place which all of the above entries are with the exception of "Found in the Crack of Your Palm." Also Usopp is the one speaking in both 3 and 6. Probably because I try to include his dialogue wherever possible in Fair Winds because I struggle to insert him into the plot and he's good at setting a mood.

I do think the "best" of these opening lines are from "Same Song, Different Verse," and also "spill your wine." Both of them do the thing where I'm establishing place but they also manage to tie in some important sensory information which becomes thematic as their respective fics go on. Food for thought.

Thanks for tagging me, Dev! I'm tagging @faggotzoro, @acewithapaintbrush, @thricepiercedpirate, @thychesters and @zaharya!

#one piece #fanfic games #zolu #my fanfic #sorry if the way i answered this was boring #I was protecting you all really #sparing you from the supernatural fic I wrote in like 2015 and which didn't see the light of day until two years later #why did i write an august rush fic #better question #why haven't i deleted it?

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part x- the letters

“i’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, i am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in here” - l.m. dorsey

summary: as you settle in at the compound, the free time gives you a bit too much room for self reflection. not like the closeness of your trio is helping with your littles crushes either.

wordcount: 4.3k

warnings: pining, more pining, lil 🤏 angst, trauma, hydra fucked up ya boi, lists, yes lists is a warning

a/n: can you tell i was obsessed with parallels this chapter 💀 also the ✨olive theory✨ but no but i’m really happy w how this turned out hope u enjoy and like always, love you! 🥺🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza

previous part | series masterlist | next part

The next days were dedicated to establishing a schedule. Thankfully, that was something Steve had always been good at. With his help, you had a nice, flexible schedule that would help you ease back into normal life.

5:00 AM:

Wake up. Take a flying lap. Get ready. Suppress the urge to think about how domestic getting ready with your boys is. Head down to the kitchen for a snack before stretching and going for a run around the compound. Follow up with a workout and cool-down stretch.

7:00 AM:

Eat a good breakfast, and use the opportunity to try new foods. Sometimes other members of the teams join you. You still don’t talk around them much. After breakfast, shower.

8:30 AM:

Let Steve teach you and Bucky about the modern world, plus catch you up on his life. Get distracted by his smile and his biceps. Pretend to not be distracted. Think about the lockbox.

12:00 PM:

Eat lunch. Sometimes with other team members. After lunch, go for a fly around the grounds.

1:30 PM:

Either run errands or just go into town. Avoid touchy paparazzi and blush when Bucky defends you in front of them. Get confused about why you’re blushing. Think about the lockbox again.

6:30 PM:

Dinner. Always a full-team event. Sit silently so as to not interrupt or bother anyone. Always thank whoever cooked or ordered the food. Help clean up after.

After a week, you’re comfortable with the order. You enjoy how much time you spend with your boys, despite worrying about being clingy. And despite how quiet you are around everyone else, you enjoy being around them, too.

One day, after your morning run, none of the three of you hear the noise coming from the kitchen. But the team hears you.

You, Bucky, and Steve are in the middle of a half-joking-half-serious debate about Steve’s old USO costume, voices carrying down the halls with a lightheartedness that the rest of the team isn’t used to hearing.

“It made your ass look great,” you insist, causing Tony to snort and shoot an “I-told-you-so” look at Natasha. Sam silently laughs even harder when he hears the infamous Winter Soldier fully agree with you, even going into talking about how “lifting” the spandex was.

“You two are just pervs,” Steve laughs. “That uniform hid absolutely nothing.” Bucky elbows him.

“Bet the girls loved that,” he chuckles. Steve goes ten shades of red and hides his face in his hands, trying to ignore the teasing.

The lights in the kitchen flicker with your laughter, and a few of the Avengers glance up. Compound lights rarely flicker, much less go out. A perk of having a Stark running your tech.

The three of you stumble into the kitchen, and in the brief moment before you realize the whole group is gathered there, Natasha Romanoff notices three things.

One: Steve has never looked this happy. Not in the four years she’s known him. His features are lighter, the deep crease between his brow is relaxed. He finally looks his age.

Two: You and Barnes are much louder than you’ve been acting. She supposes guilt is making you more shy than usual. More than anything, she’s glad to see you smiling for once.

Three: The three of you are absolutely in love with one another.

Hidden glances, lingering touches. As the matchmaker of the group, she’s seen it dozens of times before. She knows the signs.

But she’s no fool. Her “mother” didn’t raise her to be one. The three of you are, in the most polite way possible, mentally fucked. It’s hard not to be, after 70 years are absolute shit. And that makes relationships more difficult and complicated than they already are.

Natasha makes a mental note that she’ll share with Wanda later.

The moment you turn and spot the group, your little trio freezes. You and Bucky go silent, though you’re still trying to hide occasional chuckles as he elbows Steve. The blond is mostly unaffected, though his smile cools a bit.

“Vis helped make sandwiches,” Wanda says, breaking the tense silence. “Come and try them.”

You oblige, taking one from the tray and sitting on a barstool. You leave one stool of space between you and Sam and tuck your wings close to your body, hoping to not trip anyone.

The Falcon leans in as conversation continues.

“Hey,” he whispers conspiratorially. You tilt your head. “Barton and I were wondering if you’d want to join the Bird Squad.”

The what? The look of confusion on your face has Sam explaining.

“You know, I’m the Falcon, he’s Hawkeye. You don’t have a bird-themed name, but hey, I think the wings are more than enough for you to qualify.”

Grinning at his antics, you nod. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll join the…”

“Bird Squad,” he says.

“The Bird Squad,” you finish. Bucky comes over just then, raising a brow at the man next to you.

“Please stop with the bird puns. The bird-patterned socks were bad enough,” he groans. Bucky takes the seat between you two nonetheless. He offers you the olives from the toothpick in his sandwich. You trade them for the crust off yours.

Next to Tony, Steve waits for the billionaire to speak first. The two can rarely ever talk without arguing, but he’s more than willing to try. For the team, if not for himself.

“I know we joke about you guys being old, but physically, how old are you actually?” Tony asks. He’s watching you peel the crust from your sandwich.

Steve huffs, calculating. “I turn 31 this year, and those two… Well, we don’t know how long they were in cryo between… missions.” He glances at you and Bucky. “She was 27 and he was 28 when they went under.”

The blond can’t read Tony’s expression as he nods, simply taking another sip of coffee. Steve takes it as a sign he’s done talking.

Circling around the counter and sitting on the other side of him, you offer a smile before passing an olive to him. He takes it gratefully.

Peter, apparently done eating, bounces out of his chair and hops on top of the counter in front of you. He immediately starts talking a mile a minute.

“Okay, this might be a weird question and you can totally say no, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, I’m just really curious, but can I see your powers? It’s just, Ned- that’s my best friend- has been asking about how they work since he’s really interested in the physics of them and I just never have an answer and I feel bad-”

To stop him from losing his breath, you hold out your hand, summoning a small ball of light. You’ve been trying to keep your powers to a minimum here. You know better than most how destructive they can be, and the last thing you want to do is wreck the compound.

But a small, floating ball of light won’t do any damage. Strangely, it’s not even hot. The teen pokes at it, alarmed when his hand passes right through.

“Wait, if you can make solid objects with it, why is this…?” With a flick of your wrist, you feel the light change.

“It’s almost like changing the density,” you explain. “You probably understand it better than I ever will. I just know that it works.” When Peter touches the light again, it’s solid. You toss it, watching as it dissipates in the air.

He’s amazed, gaping for a few seconds before gathering himself, thanking you, and hurrying off to call his friend back. You lift up your hand again, allowing the light to flow and wisp-like smoke. Peter’s reaction makes you feel a bit better about your powers. He wasn’t scared, just curious.

“I told you,” Bucky quips. “Your powers aren’t something to be disgusted by.”

Huffing, you point to his left arm. “Then neither is that,” you counter.

“No, this is different.” The metal plates shift and rearrange with his movements. Steve watches, mesmerized by them. As horrible as its origin was, the intricate design of the prosthetic was something beautiful.

He says so, but Bucky shakes his head. You frown.

“Maybe if it wasn’t in so much pain all the time, you’d be able to feel a bit better about it. Just let me soothe the nerves, even just for a little bit,” you plead. Lowering your voice, you cut off his racing thoughts. “You don’t deserve to be in pain.”

Bucky considers your words. He shrugs, but doesn’t refuse. He watches you smile, quite literally lighting up the room.

Steve chuckles as the lights flicker, grabbing your empty plates and tossing them in the sink.

“I was thinking we could head into Brooklyn,” he suggests. “Our museum is open, so I figured we could stop by there and look through.”

He thinks for a moment, then nods to you. “Maybe you’ll finally open that lockbox and let the world in on whatever’s inside.”

The world? You know he means the news, the people that read about you. But those letters in there are for him and Bucky only.

To be fair, they are your whole world.

———————————————————————

People weren’t as invasive and nosy when they were wandering around your museum, you find. They seem more respectful as you wander the exhibits, trying to piece together your past.

The memories have been coming easier, but they still feel so distant. Like dreams, or a lingering sense of deja vu.

There are dozens of pictures lining the walls, descriptions neatly written below them. The three of you talking around a campfire, Steve and Bucky at the fair, a younger you proudly holding up a 1st place trophy, front teeth missing and a tiny bow clenched in your fist.

You trace your hands over them, mesmerized by how happy you look. You look lighter, softer. Not bearing a literal weight on your shoulders and eyes that always seem a bit sad.

Steve walks up behind you, following your wistful gaze as you soak up each photo and try to place it in your memories.

“Hey,” he says. You smile, so warm and so familiar that Steve’s knees almost buckle. “You like the museum?”

“It’s great,” you say, following the pictures around to a replica of your shared apartment. “Helps with the memories.” The couch catches your eye. With a bit of focus, some moments in time push through the fog.

Lazy nights when you three were too tired to move, instead piling on the couch and sleeping there. Camping out there when Steve was sick and you gave him the bed. Bucky coming home that day that started the end of it all.

Slowly, not wanting to overstep, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders, carefully navigating past your wings. You lean into his touch, sniffling a bit when Bucky joins you two, also staring at the battered couch.

One particular memory comes to mind. And you begin to hum.

You can’t remember the exact words, but you try your best as you begin to sway.

“It’s been a long, long time… Haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when…”

Dancing. You three spent more money than you could afford on records for your little apartment, and after Sunday dinner it was your tradition to try and teach Steve to dance.

What you’re doing now is little more than shifting your weight. But it means the world to you and your boys. It means that you’re remembering. Bucky joins in humming, making his way through the refrain before trailing off.

“You said you’ve got a record player, didn’t you, Stevie?” he asks. Steve nods and begins talking about some of the older records he has when a particular glass case catches your eye.

Your lockbox. Behind the 4-inch bulletproof glass, the small box sits with its key placed beside it. You crouch to read the description.

‘In the final days before her disappearance, Agent (Y/N) (L/N) wrote what is estimated to be around a dozen letters and stored them in this box. While other letters she wrote were left out, no one knows what lies within the small cherry-wood box. Out of respect, it remains locked to this day.’

A picture of you sits beside the paragraph. Bow slung over your shoulder and dressed in your uniform, you stand tall and proud. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in the glass, you immediately shake your head to dissipate the lingering thoughts.

A woman steps up beside you. From the way she’s dressed and the keys in her pocket, you figure she works the museum. Your guess is confirmed when she gestures to the box.

“We were wondering when you’d stop by,” she says. “Anything here of yours that you want, just ask. We’re here to help in any way we can.” You smile gratefully, thanking her before glancing back at the box.

“Could I…?” The woman nods and wordlessly unlocks the case. She lifts your box with all the care in the world, handing it to you and wishing you well before whisking off.

Steve and Bucky catch up to you, spotting the box.

“They let you take it?” The former asks.

Holding it up, you grin. “Yeah. Guess they missed their timeframe on finding out what’s inside.”

“Will you tell us?” Bucky leans in, gently elbowing you.

Even thinking about the letters makes you blush. In your grief the days after their “deaths”, you’d poured every thought onto paper. The openness that you know lies on the pages sends embarrassment creeping under your skin.

“Maybe,” you finally say, tucking the box under your arm and stowing the key in your pocket. They both shrug, not pushing further, and move on to the next exhibit.

It’s an hour later when you leave, avoiding reporters and paparazzi as you clutch the lockbox close to your body. Making it back to the compound and into your room is much easier, though you still haven’t opened the box.

Steve and Bucky ran down to the kitchen to bug Sam, and in the meantime, you’ve been staring at it. The key is in your hand, the box is on your bed.

Since you’ve gotten home, you’ve showered, changed into pajamas, checked the news, and watched an episode of new show that caught your eye.

But you’re scared. You’ve already felt… that feeling lately. You fear that, if you open the box and reread the letters inside, it’ll only be intensified.

A part of HYDRA’s process was breaking you down into a weapon. To them, you weren’t a person capable of giving or receiving such an emotion. They made you believe it. That you were only good for their missions.

If you open the box, you aren’t sure if you can handle keeping a secret like that from your boys. You aren’t sure if you could handle telling them, either.

They’re all you have left. Losing them through your own actions would destroy you.

Still, you grip the key in your hand, steel your nerves, and unlock the box.

Gently opening it, you blow away the dust coating the old paper before carefully lifting the stack of letters and setting them on your bed. You grab one, unfolding it and hyping yourself up before reading the first words.

‘Dear Steve Rogers and James Barnes,

This is the fourth letter I’ve written. Without either of you, there isn’t much else to do except think and write. And I’ve been doing a lot of both. There are plenty of things I wish I’d told you, but before everything else, I wish that I had told you I love you. Yes, still. And while I can’t tell you when it started, a part of me feels like it’s always been there. Like a fact of life I’ve lived with ever since that day on the playground.

I don’t think telling you would’ve changed how things went. Maybe you two would’ve been more careful if we’d had more to lose. But I’m so tired of entertaining what-if questions, so I’ll deal with that thought down for another time.

Missing you feels like too weak of a word to describe what I feel. You’ve been perhaps the only permanent thing in my life. Everything else changes too fast for me to keep up. School, work, whatever else people worry about now. But you were my constant. The one thing I could rely on. Even if the sun didn’t rise one day, I always thought you’d be there. And now I’m alone.

Steve, you were always so full of energy. Even when sick, you’d always have something to say or a new drawing to work on. I never admitted it, but I loved watching you draw. You had a real talent there. Seeing you become Captain America was the best and worst thing, I think. Knowing that you were healthy, even better than me and Buck, was a weight lifted. But the world doesn’t know you. They aren’t mourning you, they’re mourning their symbol. I can’t forgive them for that.

Bucky, the day you were drafted has always stayed in my mind. You were scared for the first time I can remember, shaking on our couch that I can’t go back to. I can’t go back to that apartment alone. I'll always remember the late nights in the kitchen, when Steve would go to bed early and you’d tell me all about some new scientific discovery or invention that you’d read about. The world doesn’t talk about that part of you.

I can hear Peggy and the other Commandos talking. They’re worried about me, I think. I can’t blame them. I sleep more than I ever have, write, and take dinner in my tent. Colonel Phillips hasn’t said anything yet.

The world is moving on without us. I may not be dead, but I think after losing you, I’m not completely alive.’

Sniffling, you wipe your eyes and fold the letter back up, setting it in the box along with the others. You remember bits and pieces of the time after they “died”, and true to the letter, you’d spiraled in the remaining weeks before you’d caved.

A knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call. With your feet dangling off the bed, you don’t need to sit up to know the two sets of footsteps.

The sun hangs low in the sky, and even at the end of the day the compound bustles with agents and doctors. You yawn, stretching your muscles. You’ve found that your energy levels tend to rise and fall with the sun.

Even though it’s early, Steve and Bucky are more than willing to turn in for the night. A lazy night in is far more appealing than watching more news on the Avengers and the Accords, and dinner could be ordered in without much fuss.

“Are you done for the day?” the blond asks, sitting beside you. Bucky moves the throw pillows from the bed, tossing them around the room with no regards to where they land.

You shrug. “I want to go help clean up after dinner, don’t wanna leave Wanda to do it on her own.”

“Wanda can move things with her mind, I think she’ll be okay with doing the dishes for one night.” Scooping you up while Bucky throws the covers back, he unceremoniously dumps you onto the plush bed as you shriek.

Reaching over to grab a pillow, you swat at him, only to receive a pillow to the face from the brunet behind you. Before it devolves into a full-on pillow war, you raise your hands in truce, laying down to catch your breath.

Your boys follow suit, laying down with you. You tuck your wings in, wrapping them around yourself on both sides like the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever touched.

“This is nice,” Bucky mumbles into the blankets. You nod, closing your eyes to avoid facing just how close they are. Normally you wouldn’t mind. But you blush easily, and something like that would raise questions.

You listen as Steve calls in a pizza, followed by another call of him asking Vision to pick it up, seeing as he was the fastest one in the compound. Poking at a stray feather, you blink hazily in the golden light.

The food arrives minutes later, and you finish the pizza just as the sun starts to graze the treeline. Steve and Bucky get ready for bed as you turn on the TV and collect some more blankets, only increasing the growing pile on the bed. The cold doesn’t bring good memories to any of you.

Once you finish, you lightly pat the bed, gesturing for Bucky to sit.

“You said you’d let me work your shoulder,” you remind him, tone stern. Steve helps you, tugging your friend in front of you. He sits in front of him, making sure he doesn’t try to start another pillow fight.

“You don’t have to do this,” Bucky says to both of you. Your responses are the same.

“I know.”

You can feel the warmth of your healing radiating from your hand. “You ready?” you ask. Steve takes his hands, calming him as he takes deep breaths. He nods.

You’ve seen the x-rays. The sketches of the metal arm and exactly how it’s designed. It’s a medical nightmare, put simply.

A titanium limb far outweighed a normal arm, meaning Bucky walked with a tilt, which led to back pain and a constant soreness in his neck muscles. In an attempt to support the heavy prosthetic, HYDRA had poorly grafted the metal onto the surrounding bones, covering parts of his clavicle and sternum.

All of this combined puts him in a world of pain. And now that he’s finally letting you work on it, you wonder how he didn’t break sooner.

The pain radiates from where the metal attaches, searing across his back and up the left side of his head. His muscles are knotted and tense, struggling to receive input from the destroyed nerves.

Bucky’s wincing as you work, trying his best not to shout in pain and relief as your powers mend his invisible wounds. Steve notices, and in an attempt to distract him, taps your lockbox.

“So, you ever gonna tell us what’s in this?” Since he’s facing you, he gets a perfect view of how you turn two shades pinker, fumbling and accidentally brightening the nearby lamp.

You cough, shrugging. “Maybe.” Your tone suddenly becomes a bit sad. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“Ready for…?” Bucky asks.

“Ready for you two to know.” That’s all you say, focusing on soothing the nerves in his neck.

Both Steve's and Bucky’s minds jump to the same thing.

Steve’s known exactly what he’s felt for you two ever since middle school, when he asked his ma if he could be in love with two people at once. Sarah had smiled knowingly, nodded, and watched his little mind run and slowly take in what that meant.

But he never said anything. Bucky started going on dates and you turned your focus on studying, and he’d never found the perfect moment like all his books talked about. No screaming confessions in the rain or dramatic dances at a fancy party. He thought he might find that moment as Captain America, but constant missions made that a bit hard.

All he has is this room, Bucky’s hands in his, and your eyes occasionally meeting his own.

Bucky didn’t realize his feelings until he was taken by HYDRA for the first time. He’d always enjoyed dating around, more for the experience of learning about someone than anything else. Settling with one person when everyone was so different seemed so boring and bland. And then he almost died.

During his capture, he had a lot of time to think. And the only people he could ever see living with for the rest of his life were you two. Sure, it was unorthodox, but so was everything you three did together. Damn all tradition to hell, he swore that, if he got out of that place alive, he’d tell you both. But that never happened. Instead, he got 70 years as a puppet.

All he has is this room, Steve whispering nonsense to calm him down, and your gentle hands mending every source of pain you can find.

“There. All done.” Sitting back, you flick your hands, sending stray tendrils of light flying away.

The sun has long since disappeared, and you can spot a few stars from the window. Going to bed early won’t change the fact that none of you will sleep well. Nightmares always come for at least one of you.

Tonight, you take the middle. Laying on your stomach, Bucky and Steve slide in on both sides as you rest your wings atop them.

For a while, you sit in silence.

Steve breaks it.

“The thing you aren’t ready to tell us, whatever it is, you know we’ll always be here, right?” he asks. You nod immediately. You never doubted that. Not once. You’re scared of how things will change, though.

“I know. Not like you’d ever let us get away,” you laugh.

Bucky hums, content and almost floaty due to the lack of pain. “You’d chase us to the bottom of the ocean, wouldn’t you, punk?”

“Jerk,” Steve huffs, tugging up one of the many blankets.

Eyes fluttering shut, you manage a “Dumbasses” before you slip into sleep.

Making sure you’re not awake, Bucky glances at Steve.

“So, we both know what those letters say?” He knows you well enough that he’s confident in his suspicions.

Steve hesitates, but agrees. “Yeah. A pretty good guess, at least.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“She’s not the only one.”

“Yeah. But we’ll wait.”

“We’ll wait.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #bucky barnes x winged!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x winged!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader

[channieandhisgoonsquad]

Unplanned Events (Part Two)

Warnings: Mention of self doubt in the form of reader being fluffy.

Word Count: 1669

Writer's Note: So, here's a little bit more. I should really be asleep right now, but I just keep writing and thinking. I'll post what I can, not that anyone is reading. Lol

Summary: In an unfortunate turn of events, you are alone in the big city for the weekend of your SKZ concert. Unsure of what is safest for you and what you should do, your weekend takes a second unexpected turn when you run into your bias Han Jisung at the park.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 7.5 / Part 8

And there you were with the hyperventilating again. “Woah! Take deep breaths for me. Calm down. Look around! We’re in the beautiful city of c/n for a great time. You are a stunning woman with great taste, I am a decent man with funny jokes, and everything will be just fine. Now I need to take a deep breath out and tell me, why are you so upset?” He questions your state of being eloquently. His accent showed through more British as he tilted his head like a puppy. But you were the one that felt like a lost puppy at this moment.

“This isn’t happening, is it? This is all a fever dream. You’re not actually here. I could probably pinch myself awake.” You mumbled quickly through the confusion and thought process. His head tilted to the other side, and as he did that he reached out to your cheek and did exactly what you said you should do.

“Ow! What the fuck was that?!”

He recoiled quickly and pinched both of his own fluffy cheeks in response to your surprised yell, “Look! There’s your proof that this is real! And I pinched mine too so we’re even.” Oh… that’s true. He obviously pinched his own cheeks pretty hard, because he was now rubbing them with the back of his hands. You felt pain and didn’t wake up. This must actually be happening. 

You surrendered yourself to this potential reality, even if you weren’t fully convinced you weren’t dreaming, and explained your situation to your favorite person, ”I’m here alone… My best friend bailed on me. Now, I don’t know what to do tonight or tomorrow before the concert.” Defeated. Especially now that you’re explaining the pathetic situation you felt you had put myself into to this beautiful man that was just trying to live his life. You slouched into the feeling of being hopeless and alone.

Han took off his baseball cap, set it on his kneecap, ran both of his hands through his long locks, and contemplated what he was going to say next while looking around. As you watched his facial expressions change, you seized the moment to admire him. He is a literal dream and you don’t know how you’ve even managed to speak legit words to him. When you had dreamt about this possibility, you assumed it would just be screams of excitement. Apparently, being in the predicament you were in now, lessened any and all concerned responses your body could’ve formed.

While you stared at him, he looked back at the men that stood behind him, your assumption being that they were his bodyguards, JYP probably made him bring with him when not at the hotels or the arenas. They made eye contact with the handsome idol and held a nonverbal conversation for a few moments with their subtle nods. You grabbed your light stick from the step and placed it in your shoulder bag while their telepathic conversation continued.

He rubbed the back of his neck while returning eye contact with you, “I know this seems quite unusual, but I was given time to wander the city with these two for the day since our rehearsal won’t be until tomorrow before the show. I don’t get a lot of time to actually explore the places we visit during tours, and always seek any opportunity to get out and explore. The other guys took this day off and wanted to keep it lowkey. So, what I’m trying to say is, I would love to have someone accompany me if you wanted to join me.” He stood up slowly and reached out his hand to you.

“Wait- are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or cause you any problems. IF this is because you feel bad, dont. I’m not that interesting anyways so-”.

“Ya!” He hissed before you could beat yourself down anymore, “There will be none of that! You are a Stay, obviously. And as such, I think you will find we have a lot more in common than you think. It would be my honor to have a gorgeous Stay-” he paused in the same melodramatic pose he had been in; standing while holding one arm extended to you-” What is your name, hun?”

“Y/n.” You responded softly in your awe-struck state.

“Perfect. As I was saying. I would be honored to have the beautiful y/n join me on my exploration of food and whatever else we find.” His gummy smile creased his eyes shut as he cringed slightly at the dramatic sentence he had formed. 

You grabbed his hand as he helped you to your feet. His gloveless hand was a little cold, but it was a stark contrast to the warmth he gave off himself. “I am neither beautiful nor gorgeous, Han. I fear you may be talking about someone else.” You laughed and internally groaned at the sudden burst of courage you had with Jisung.

“You are actually both, dear. I’m sure you’re aware that I am an awful liar so you’d know if I wasn’t telling you the truth.”

“Where did that goofball that I know and love go? You are way too smooth to be the real Hannie.” Oh shit, your nickname for him just slipped out and you had never felt more stupid than in this moment. 

“Hannie, hmm?” He giggled at your use of his cute nickname, “I’ll allow it. I promise to you, y/n, that I will be nothing but myself, no gimmicks.” He replied sassily and with that same cheesy smile returning. He turned around to reach over to grab something from Intimidating Guard #1. His smile faded slightly, as a nervous and kind of guilty look appeared in its place, ”The boss man always makes us carry these around, just in case. It’s an NDA. It’s just a formality to say you won’t post about us hanging out online, post any pictures, or start rumors. I have to uphold the image he set, and I could definitely be terminated if I didn’t get you to sign and something wrong happens to either of us.”.

Something snapped in your brain meats again. It had finally clicked that this was really an option you were about to play out. Han was here, in front of you, offering up a great opportunity to hang out with your bias of your favorite group. His squishy cheeks, toothy grin, and dorky antics were within reach. You just needed to sign the agreement. Which meant no one would get to know about today, but it’s not like anyone would believe you anyways.

“It’s fine. Totally understand. I still think I’m dreaming but-“ as you tried to reach out for the pen and paper held in his hands he yanked it away from you quickly. You knew this was too good to be true. He was probably having second thoughts or realized how creepy you are. 

“First, before we officially become secret best friends, I need to hear your answer to one question. Who is your bias?” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at your scared expression.

Luckily for you, that expression was still from shock at him pulling the papers away, so he couldn’t see the new found horror you felt as he was trying to get you to out yourself right now.  Anyone that knows you in your regular life knows that Han Jisung is your ultimate. It’s such a known fact but to tell the man himself might make him treat you differently. While your brain ran at a hundred miles per hour, you held eye contact with the goofball in front of you. 

“Why does it matter?” You asked in return.

“I’m a curious guy, and want to know if I can change your mind today.” He replied back with a casual shrug. Saying something so cooly could definitely be interpreted as meaning something else. But he’s always been competitive.

“How about, you treat me to the authentic Jisung and I’ll tell you honestly over a good meal?” Little does the man know, your bag literally had a small booklet filled with your favorite Han cards for trading tomorrow. And here you are, hoping the man forgets the agreement and just drops the embarrassing question. 

His inquisitive brain seemed to really contemplate the deal; he’s never been good at hiding when he’s thinking hard on the spot. 

“No lying?”

“Of course not! I promise!” You help out your pinky to him and he took it in his own while handing you the papers. Any smart person would read the papers, but considering there were five pages of font size ten print, you bypassed your better judgment. As soon as you had signed on the dotted line and dated it you were handing it back over to IG#1 since he originally held onto it. Jisung saw the signature so he immediately released his breath he had been holding onto and laughed.

“Well, y/n. Looks like we are stuck with each other until you get sick of me.”

“You have no idea how weird I can be, Hannie. I’ve seen you on SKZ Code and I’m sure I can handle all of your antics.” You slyly retorted to the odd one that was doing a happy dance in front of you. “I do not embarrass easily.”

“Challenge accepted. What shall we do first? You are from here so you should know all the fun things to do.”. He perched his elbow on your shoulder as he looked in the same direction as you, pointing at nothing in particular. He was only a few inches taller, but it was the perfect height to force you to look up at his squinty expression.

“I had one thing that I was planning on doing this weekend. If you follow me, I’ll lead the way. I can already see where we’re headed from here.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way.” The squirrely boy proclaimed. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 7.5 / Part 8

Chapter two of `\_(=_= )_/`

#stray kids han #han jisung #han jisung cute #han quokka #stray kids #stray kids imagines #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #hannie #stray kids han jisung #i love him #love of my life #loml

[strayfoxxchan]

Pairing: Bang Chan (Chris) x f!reader (Y/N)

Genre: Fluff, Soulmate AU

Content Warning: Mentions of Nicotine Use, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption

A/N: Hi Stayblr! This is my first post here and is likely to be a multi-chapter endeavor (I have 5 chapters written, yikes). It’s a collaboration between myself (the writer) and my husband and sister (who had all the ideas). Sorry in advance, this series is going to be long!

Chapter 1

Seoul was something else, another world entirely separate from the country she called home. The towering city skyline mingling with winding streets and hilly suburbs was like a maze to explore. The people, the food, the culture…  Maybe it would be good for her to get out of her comfort zone. So when the company she was working for had an opening to transfer to Korea, she jumped headfirst into it without looking back. 

It certainly wasn’t glamorous at first. The sum total of all the Korean she knew was learned from watching K-dramas and listening to K-pop. Moving into a corporate-owned apartment was harder than Y/N would have expected, as she attempted to explain to the movers in broken Korean that her apartment was on the 12th floor. Learning her bus route was an unmitigated disaster for a time. Speaking to her colleagues resulted in some pretty hilarious misunderstandings. But the longer she was there, the easier it became. 

Y/N still had hard nights. She didn’t leave home for more than groceries, work, and a cigarette down in the courtyard. It was a monotonous life, to be sure. She was a bit shy, and most of her coworkers were much younger than her. She was pushing 30 and had a hard time making friends with all these kids who had grown up in such a different environment than she had. But, she enjoyed her job, and her apartment was certainly nicer than the one back home, so Y/N couldn’t complain too much. 

–

Y/N tended to keep a fairly tight schedule: 

7:00 Wake up. Shower. Makeup. 8:00 Bagel. Smoke. Bus. 9:00 Work. 6:00 Bus. Smoke. 7:00 Dinner. Netflix. 9:00 Draw. Relax. 10:00 Wind down. Get ready for bed. 11:00 Stare at the ceiling until sleep eventually comes to visit. 

During her morning smoke break, her carefully crafted schedule slowly began to unravel. As she rushed downstairs, bagel and cigarette in hand, she was met with a not altogether unfamiliar sight, but an unwelcome one: rain. Of course, it had to rain. Of course, she had forgotten her umbrella upstairs. Of course, it was a day that she had a presentation. 

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck,” Y/N mumbles to herself, maybe a little louder than intended. Normally, Y/N would love a rainy day. It didn’t rain much where she grew up, and she had always loved the way the rain seemed to wash away the dirt and grime of life in a city. Steeling herself for a bad hair day and a soggy cigarette, she takes a step out from under the shelter of the building.

Mysteriously, she doesn’t get wet. The rain seems to part around her.

“우산을 잊으셨나요?” A chuckle rings out behind Y/N, and she spins to meet her savior. As soon as Y/N makes eye contact, she spins directly back around, shutting her eyes tightly and willing herself to wake up from this bizarre and life-like dream. 

“Oh, fuck??” It takes every ounce of dexterity in her body not to drop her bagel on the ground.

“Y-you… okay?” The warm voice speaks up again.

“Yeah, yeah, just… trying to figure out why Christopher Bahng is standing behind me with an umbrella.”

“Ah… 네…” Chris giggles, a tinge of awkward nervousness sneaking into his voice. “Sorry, Yeah… I just… I see you out here often and I am convinced you don’t know how to check the weather. I don’t think I have ever seen you with an umbrella.”

Y/N turns on her heel to look him in the eye again, forgetting he was a little closer than she remembered. “You… see me often? Are you stalking me?” She is mostly joking. But how would THE Bang Chan see her here often when she had never once seen him?

Seeming to read her thoughts, Chris replies quickly. “I live here, too. My bedroom is right next to the window,” he motions up at the building. “I see you take your smoke break every morning,” he pauses for a moment. “You know that’s not–”

“Not good for you, I know, I know. Bad habits. Old dog. Y/N,” she introduces herself, putting her bagel in her mouth and holding her now-free hand toward him.

“Chris, Christopher, Bang, Bang Chan, Chan, Channie, but you already knew that apparently,” he takes her hand and shakes it. “Sorry if I spooked you.” He scratches his head.

“No, no, that’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting my b– I just wasn’t expecting you to show up here,” she says after pulling the bagel back out of her mouth. He didn’t need to know he was her bias.

“Come on, let’s get you your smoke break,” Chris ushers her to her usual spot in the courtyard, careful to keep the umbrella over them both as she lights up. 

For a while, they sit in awkward silence before she finally musters up the courage to say anything. “For the record, no, I don’t check the weather. What’s life without a little surprise?”

“I would guess that I’ve given you the biggest surprise of your life this morning,” that smile could have parted the rain clouds easily.

“Who doesn’t want to start their morning with a mild heart attack,” Y/N laughs. “Thank you for,” she waves her hand at the umbrella, “this.”

Chris smiles shyly, a light flush rising on his cheeks. Y/N might have mistaken the flush for the cool air wrapping them tightly. “Nah, it’s nothing. I’ve maybe been waiting for an excuse to talk to you.” The cigarette falls out of her hand as she coughs and splutters. Chris jumps up, patting her back. “Y/N?? Are you okay? Breath,” he strokes her hair as she struggles momentarily.

“An excuse to talk to ME?” Y/N says between choking fits. 

“Despite how it might seem, it wasn’t my intention to almost kill you twice in one day,” Chris laughs as she dramatically clutches at her chest. He sits a bit closer to Y/N now that the coughing has calmed down, rubbing her back with one hand while continuing to shield her from the rain. Y/N stiffens a bit before calming into his hand. This whole moment feels surreal. “But yeah, just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean a random girl smoking at exactly 8 am every single day under my window wouldn’t pique my interest, even just a little. It’s Y/N’s turn to blush. 

The bus pulls up across the courtyard and Y/N suddenly remembers she is not, in fact, on a date with her bias, and does have a very important presentation to get to. Chris glances past her and hands her the umbrella. “You can give it back later. Have a good day doing… whatever it is you do, mystery girl.” He gets up, pats her head, and dashes to the entryway of the building, shielding his head from the rain. 

–

Chris heads back up to the dorm, his heart racing. He couldn’t quite tell if it was from the sprint through the rain or the adrenaline rush of having spoken to Y/N after all this time. He was tired. He had been in the studio until almost 4 am this morning and had only gotten a few hours of sleep before waking for the day’s schedule. Honestly, it had been pure luck that they met (and pure luck that he’d had his umbrella). He hadn’t planned on… well, ever meeting her. He didn’t have much time for flirting between hours spent working on music and seemingly endless schedules and fleeting visits and dinners with friends. Had he not run out of the dorm for a quick breakfast, he might not have come across her in the courtyard.

She was prettier in person. The details of her face were usually lost to the distance from his 10th-floor bedroom window. Up close, her skin was soft, her eyes big and round. She didn’t bother with clean, fresh idol makeup, the dark shadow around her eyes somehow made their unique color all that more striking. Her business suit had been black (probably his favorite color) and the shirt peeking out from the lines of her suit collar had been a lovely shade of burgundy. She felt like autumn. The pencil skirt and sheer black tights served to lengthen her frame, though she was quite short. And those heels…

Chris shakes his head, trying to dust away the wandering thoughts. He had too much to do today to be distracted. He needed a clear mind to get through today’s interviews and performances. He put her from his mind, though the feeling of her hair on his fingertips lingered.

–

The presentation went off without a hitch, albeit a bit slower than Y/N had practiced. She hadn’t prepared with the intention of having a wandering mind from the events of the morning. The rest of the day is just as agonizingly slow. Y/N and her colleagues have worked out a silly system: they speak to her in English, and she speaks to them in Korean. They correct each other when the need arises and it seems to be working out better than expected. Communication is becoming easier every day. But today, Y/N seems to continue to forget everything she had learned up until this point. The whole day has felt like one of those dreams where each time you take a step, you seem to never move forward. 

Why would Bang Chan ever want to talk to someone as boring (and old and normal) as her? He seems to be surrounded by beautiful, talented idols, and one would think that he could have his pick of the bunch– she’s nothing special. She doesn’t have money, fame, or any special talent to speak of. And when it comes to Korean beauty standards or even western beauty standards… Well, she doesn’t have that either. She is exceedingly normal. Y/N decides not to dwell on it. She would drive herself crazy thinking of all the how’s and what’s and why’s. 

As the day comes to a close, Y/N gathers her things and says her goodbyes. She pulls out the umbrella and makes her way to the bus. The bus glides along the streets of the glittering rain-soaked city. Thoughts of Christopher’s smiling, dimpled face and big warm hands on her upper back keep her mind in a slightly confused daze. And finally, she is home. 

Y/N disembarks the bus and makes her way back to her spot in the courtyard on autopilot, pulling her pack of cigarettes from her purse.

“Hi,” the voice breaking the misty quiet nearly causes her to jump out of her skin. 

“Chris,” she clutches her chest in a mirror of her earlier start. “You’ll bring me to an early grave, sir.” He beams in a self-satisfied way. 

“I am here to reclaim my umbrella,” he pats the spot next to him, “and to ask how your day was?” His heart picks up pace, only just enough to be noticeable.

Y/N smirks at him, taking her place on the damp concrete and relinquishing ownership of the umbrella. The two sit and talk for what feels like hours, about everything and nothing. She explains to Chris the nuances of being a graphic designer in a country whose language doesn’t quite come naturally to her, and he could talk forever about the kids and his music. They spend just as much time laughing as they do chatting. 

#bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #skz x reader #stray kids #chris bang #christopher bang #christopher bahng #skz scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #skz

[4dog-teeth]

Wrote down my daily schedule as a disabled student and thought it would be cool to post here! My disability doesn’t effect my schedule as much as I thought other than making me too exhausted to get out of bed, but I’m curious to hear about other disabled people!

Morning

5:00-5:30; Wake up at my alarm and look at tiktoks, message everyone good morning, take my two pills

5:30-5:40; Use bathroom, wash face, brush teeth and hair

5:40-5:50; Struggle to choose an outfit for the day and get dressed

5:50-6:00; Make my bed, locate my shoes, fill my water bottle and pack my bag

6:00-6:15; Do my makeup if I feel like it, if not play on my phone

6:15-6:20; Put shoes on, take dog outside

6:20-6:27; Wait for bus and then board the bus

6:27- 7:00; Sit on the bus and listen to music, sometimes I read fanfic or look at memes and sometimes I sleep depending on the day

7:00-7:20; Arrive at school and go to school breakfast where I gossip with my two besties

School

7:20-7:30; Sit in homeroom and watch announcements while doing my homework

7:30-9:00; Sit in first period. A days is math where I do math on my laptop while watching impractical jokers or clips from movies I like (sometimes I write instead of doing math). On B days I have German where we usually play games and do worksheets.

9:00-10:30; second period. A days is Geography where I sit with friend number three and do quizzes on the states and junk and we get scolded for goofing off. B days I have creative writing where we sit in the dark and work on our stories, I joke around with friend number four here and a few other kids in the class (theyre all freshman and I’m a senior they love me)

10:30-11:00; Lunchtime! On A days I sit with friends 1,2,3, as well as other friends I haven’t mentioned (4,5) and we usually just make really fucked up jokes or talk about tv shows. On B days I sit with friend 1 alone and we watch tiktoks together.

11:00-12:30; third period! On A days I have my advanced drawing class where I sit with people I don’t know and get up to go annoy my friends constantly (2 and 5) and I swear the teacher doesn’t hate me. On B days I have English where I sit across from friend 1 and rn we’re reading the kite runner so thats pretty much the whole class other than me kicking her under the table.

12:30-2:00; I have fourth period. On A days its advanced painting where I sit with friend two and since its a small class we mostly joke with the teacher while working on our art. On B days I have Forensic science and I usually spend the class taking notes and drawing , sometimes i chat with my lab table if theyre in the mood.

2:00-2:15; Wait for my bus to come, usually in the cold. Sometimes friend 1 or 4 shows up and we talk about whatever while we wait.

2:15-2:40; Ride the bus home. Music and texting my friends keeps me busy.

Afternoon/evening

2:40-3:00; Lay in my bed and be exhausted

3:00-3:30; Scrounge for snacks, talk to my sibling about our days, pick up my room a little

3:30-4:30; I usually take a shower or a bath at this time (depending on how cold it is, how tired i am, if my legs hurt, etc)

4:30-5:30; Lay in bed more, watch TV, sometimes therapy depending on the day

5:30-6:00; Usually dinner, we eat later a lot but whatever close enough. I usually eat in my room since we do not have a table

6:00-6:20; Walk the shitass dog and feed all the animals dinner

6:20-7:00; Do whatever chores my mom asks me to do, hang around my parents, be generally annoying

7:00-7:30; Watch TV while doing something like coloring, choosing clothes for tomorrow, folding clothes, really depends on the day

7:30-8:00; Wash face, brush teeth, clean retainer, put on pajamas, do my stretches, all that good stuff

8:00-8:10; Say goodnight to everyone like a million times, play with dog, say goodnight again, tell everyone i love them

8:10-9:00; Lay in bed and look at phone or jerk it or something idk

9:00-9:30; Plug in my laptop and headphones for school, take my meds, make sure I have water and everything

9:30- Sleep

#daily schedule #schedule #habits #student life #disability #disabled schedule #eds #elhers danlos syndrome #pots syndrome #brain cyst #health

[joeys-piano]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Opened tagged by @hallwriteblr. Mostly doing this because I see it pop up often when I snoop writeblr like the morning newspaper. And thought it would be fun. Thus, open tag. Anyone who wants to do this can do this. And, you know what?, just feel good about yourself and what you do. Because writing's hard and you're doing it. And that says something

---

1. What motivates you to write?

Boredom. I wake up at around 6:10 every morning. I bounce between Tumblr and Reddit for two hours, and occasionally check my cats in Neko Atsume. At around 8:20ish am, I take 15 steps to my office to start work. I log in, VPN, avert my eyes when I open my email, do time tracking through post-it notes so I can update my timesheet as I work. I do process calls. I spend most days in an Excel sheet, Word document, or staring at my email calendar. I occasionally see "big money" in samples I pick for testing, but the novelty of it is starting to wear off and it just looks like numbers at the end of the day while I looking at PDFs that are either clean or are so archaic looking I'm starting to wonder what I'm doing. At some point, I have lunch. Multiple times, I check on my Neko Atsume cats. And scroll Tumblr. And depending on whether I can slack open review work to another day, I just spend a few hours typing stories on my phone or watching YouTube. Then I log off at 4pm or later (depending). I eat dinner. I watch the news with my brother. I shower at around 6pm, chill in bed, bounce between Tumblr and Reddit. Might do some writing. And go to sleep at 10pm ish. That's pretty much 80% of my week, week after week. I do the same thing enough times that I could autopilot. And when my real life is boring to most, that's when it's easier to get into the creative spirit and just write. Because little else is scratching that part of my brain, so I induce boredom in my real life when I'm working on a project. And when I'm done writing that project (like done done), I incorporate fun into my real life again. And that's what motivates me. Currently as I type this, I'm in the cycle of getting myself bored again and feel like I'm at the mental state to resume writing again tomorrow. Which is :3

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

I just adore this opening from a fic I wrote a month ago. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I remembering revising this while at a hotel and just proclaiming it out loud in the evening dark because it was so fun to read. Some days he’s a memory. Some days he’s a dream. Some days he’s just a joke. Some days he ought to bleed. Some days he’s a coward. Some days he’s a problem. But Nicolas loves him. It isn’t less than how he loves when he’s a mess. Because it’s more, if anything. He loves him: bolts and all. And adores him, ardently. Wants him — for the trouble. That at some point he doesn’t give a fuck where the metal work doesn’t end.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

The only times I work with OCs is when I just want a background character for something, so I just make one on the spot. Which isn't often, so I can only name on two hands the number of OCs I've really worked with. I think folks who've seen this blog since 2017 might be familiar with this character. He's this old guy, Fukumori Jae, that I made for a mafia project from who knows when. One, I like his name. Two, he's old. I have an easier time writing for older folks than I do for teens or young adults. Three, he's kind of funny. Four, he's a mob boss but doesn't look like it because he looks like an old touristy man on a trip to Europe. So the dissonance is fun. I worked with him for a very short time, but I had fond memories writing for him.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Revisions.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

The consensus from the internet is that I write pretty. You might not understand it. You probably shouldn't read it while tired or about to go to sleep. But you remember it for being pretty, and that's the general consensus so far. But on a serious note, I like that I experiment with my stories and have kept pushing at what makes a story a story and have done some weird things and techniques from other mediums that you don't normally see in written works. It keeps me engaged, it keeps me from boredom (very important). And occasionally, someone reads something they never experienced before in written words and that's really cool.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Speaking as an outsider who regularly frequents the halls, I'm endeared that most blogs I've seen are supportive of each other and that people are making friends and have a safe space to just talk about stories.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

My phone. Since last summer, it's been my secret weapon to getting my shit together. Yes, I write slower on my phone. Yes, writing on the phone is not the most optimal or ergonomic thing or whatever. Yes, it's not easy to do research on your phone. Yes, it's not easy to have multiple tabs up for whatever. But when did any of that matter for my writing process? Because writing on my phone lets me be creative and just goof off when I've been sitting in front of computer all day at work. It lets me lie down, and cuddle, while writing. My back feels a lot better. I don't get as much nerve damage, or as often a nerve damage, when I write on my phone compared to sitting at the desk. Also, just my general work flow meshes well with writing on the phone. I don't keep copious amounts of tabs open when I write, so I'm not missing anything. I don't write to music, so I'm not missing that. It's just easier to focus in on the writing when it's just the writing filling up my entire screen. I can also write on the go and I'm not bound to things like having a laptop charger and needing to carry extra bags while on the move. It just works for me to be creative on the phone. Granted, it's easier to setup certain templates on my laptop. But after you make those templates, everything is set up from there to continue with the phone work flow strictly.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

My favorite worldbuilding technique is what-if. There are no rules, there are no boundaries. Just ask yourself "What if..." and let the story take off from there. It's how somewhere in my vault, there is a detailed medical sci-fi (because I've never seen medicine been the focus of a sci-fi, so I made something I've always wanted to see) that was heavily inspired by a what-if. And it just spiraled from there. It's likely the closest thing I have to being used in a original project one day, so I keep it under lock and key until I feel like toeing sci-fi again. Eventually.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Give yourself one thing to look forward to writing in that writing session. Doesn't matter what it is. Just one thing -- at least one thing. Writing is already hard, so why not make it enjoyable for yourself in some way? You don't need to suffer to create art, despite how hard it can be. You're allowed to have fun and to include something that lets you have fun in your writing. Doesn't matter what it is.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

They know who they are. But if they one day have amnesia and have forgotten and I'm dead and they stumble upon this post and I'm still dead and they think they know me from something, here are those people: @feu-eau (you've seen my writing change during the past 6 years and we've been friends for that long, too. you are my biggest enabler to just have fun with it); @voxofthevoid (writing senior, just a chill bro I look up to, out here writing things I've always wanted to write or will not write at this current point in my life and will admire from unhinged proximity); and perhaps this is slightly unorthodox, but @lucycamui if you ever see this (you were a big fic writer I admired back in the day and while reading your siren ficlets from the very beginning, you inspired me to experiment with my writing and to keep challenging how stories are told; you're one of the reasons why I motivated myself so hard and worked so hard to improve my writing style and be the writer I want to be); @bowties-are-cool3000 (I might not read for the fandom you write or for the ships you write, but I've read what you've written and I enjoy it as much as I enjoy our yearly tradition of sending emails to each other on Christmas and occasionally crossing paths with random posts that got us thinking of each other); and I think that's everyone I wanted to mention.

#joey speaks

[anothershorthuman]

Stay Alive Pt. 4

pairings: nct dream x platonic!reader, afab!reader (they wear a skirt, but they/them pronouns are used), ??? x reader x ???

genre: zombie apocalypse au, high school au, angst, fluff, humor, not really horror but it's zombies ya'know

word count: 3.6k

series warnings: blood, injuries & fighting, suicide, character death, swearing, again... zombies.

chpt warnings: character death, suicide attempt, violence (knife), swearing, .. i think that's everything.

summary: nobody was ready for a zombie apocalypse. you were definitely not ready for a zombie apocalypse. while contemplating just giving up and accepting your fate, you meet a group of boys. life may seem pointless now, but at the very least, you now have a reason to stay alive.

previous : masterlist : next

...

You had no way of telling how long you had been asleep for. It was probably around 6 when you ended up in the cafeteria, but you don't know what time it was. You looked over at the sleeping boy next to you and pulled at his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. 5:42 am. It didn’t matter what the time was, you thought, it’s not like zombies sleep.

You stood up, dusting yourself off before standing in silence. Your eyes wandered back to Jungwoo and the steady rise and fall of his chest, reminding you that he is alive. You rubbed at your eyes in an attempt to get rid of that drowsy feeling you were experiencing but you gave up after a second, your arms falling to your side. You let out a deep sigh before opening up a granola bar and deciding that was a good enough breakfast. 

You wanted to let Jungwoo sleep as much as possible, but the eerie silence was starting to become too much and you contemplated waking him up so you could leave. Your eyes wandered the kitchen, wondering what you should take with you. “Oh yea,” you muttered to yourself, remembering that there was an emergency backpack in every one of the classrooms, maybe there was one here too. You looked through multiple cabinets before finding it shoved at the very back of a storage unit. Glancing inside of it, you hummed in appreciation for the items you found. Some things are obviously more helpful than others (you’re not quite sure if you’ll use the whistle, but you’ll definitely need the bandages) and big enough to pack food and water in there. 

Jungwoo started to grumble as he woke up, but didnt say anything when he sat next to you at the table where you were, only glancing at the backpack. You offered him a granola bar and an apple to eat and he took both, opting to munch on the apple first. He sat and continued to eat quietly while he watched you zip through the kitchen and stuffed various things into the backpack. 

“Are you done eating?” You ask him. Jungwoo nods in confirmation. You hauled the backpack onto your back and started to walk toward the utensils. Jungwoo watched with slightly squinted eyes as you picked out a knife and slipped it into the backpacks side pocket. You felt his gaze on you and can’t help but wonder if his concern came from the idea of having to use the knife or if having a knife in your possession was a scary idea within itself.

You walked toward the second entrance of the kitchen, the one leading to the hall. Just as you reached for the doorknob, you felt yourself being pulled backwards. Jungwoo tugged you from the backpack and slipped it off of you when you stumbled. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, “Let me use my volleyball muscles.” He flexes when he says this and sends you a wink when you roll your eyes.

His joke, despite dumb, lightened the mood a lot and you laugh as he opens the door, venturing into the zombie infested school.

…

“I hate running so fucking much,” Renjun sighed as he plopped down on one of the benches in the locker room. 

This was one of the first places to be infested by zombies, but it had been pretty much cleared out by the time that they had arrived. There was one wandering the locker room but it was quickly tricked to leave by Chenle, who had impulsively used himself as bait, letting the zombie chase him out of the locker room and to have its head bashed in by Jeno’s bat. This, of course, led to Jisung scolding him for scaring the shit out of him and Chenle cackling at his friend's expression. 

Now, Mark, Jisung, and Chenle searched their locker for their phones as the other four sat down. The sitting second years had wasted their phones battery during lunch playing games and felt that there was no point in carrying around dead phones when they didn’t have chargers.

Jisung was sniffling a little when he approached them, no one from his family picked up his calls and he couldn’t help but assume the worst. He tried playing it off when Jeno placed his hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Jisung roughly placed the phone into Jenos hand for him to call his family. Mark also quickly passed his phone to Renjun when no one from his family picked up either. 

Renjun wasn’t surprised when his parents didn’t pick up the phone either, they were in China and definitely working. Who knew if the news of a zombie outbreak had reached other countries? 

Jeno  tried passing the phone to Jaemin, but he pushed it back. “You don’t even want to try calling?” Jeno questioned. Jaemin shook his head, avoiding eye contact, “It’s not worth it.”

Haechan stood in excitement and relief when his call was picked up, “MOM!” He started walking to a different part of the room and it’s only when he’s far away when the rest of them notice Chenle giggling before hanging up. When he sees the questioning looks he’s receiving he explains, “I called my grandpa first. He clearly doesn’t know about what’s happening and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.” His smile falls a little at the last part of his sentence and if the other boys noticed, they didn’t say anything about it. “Do you guys mind waiting a little longer? I’m gonna try to call my parents too, they should be working so I don’t know if they’ll pick up.”

After getting the boy's approval, he turns back to the phone and calls his mom first, but she doesn’t pick up. His hands shake as he scrolls through his contacts before reaching his fathers name and pressing on it. He holds the phone up to his ear, tapping his foot as he waits. “Dad?”

The others turn away out of respect, but can’t help but try to eavesdrop a little. Despite pretending not to listen to Chenle, they collectively let out a breath of relief at the sound of a  muffled voice replying through the phone. It’s not like they knew what he was saying anyways, the conversation was in Chinese and Renjun had refused when Jeno jokingly asked him to translate. 

Jaemin was playing with one of the loose strings from his shirt when he heard a tone shift in Chenle’s voice. His eyes drift to Renjun, wanting to see if he had heard anything concerning. “Don’t ask.” Renjun mumbles to him. Jaemin nods softly and listens back to Chenle. He can’t pinpoint exactly what he’s feeling, it could be disbelief, anger, even sorrow. Regardless, it couldn’t possibly be good. We’re completely fucked, he thought. He’s about to tell the group his concerns when Haechan approaches the group, practically skipping with joy.

“Guys, I have good neeewwwssss,” Haechan sings. Immediately after, Chenle is hanging up and shoving his phone into his pocket, “I think it can wait, I have bad news.” His statement sobers Haechan up and he nods his head before sitting next to Jeno. 

Chenle doesn’t know if he should tell them the news softly or straight up. He sees no reason in keeping the information from them, but he also knew that it would kill them on the inside. “I just talked to my dad.” Some of the boys nod in recognition. “He said that the rest of the world is cutting off Korea.” 

The others stare blankly at him, trying to process the information. “What exactly does that mean?” Jisung asks. “It means that no one is getting into the country and no one is leaving the country. We’re stuck here. No one wants to risk the possibility of having an international zombie apocalypse. They’re still discussing if they’re going to be sending resources or not.”

Mark's eyes widened at this, “They would just leave us to die like that?”

“God, I don’t know.” Chenle spits out as he drops into a squat. He lowers his head to not let the others watch him cry, but he can’t seem to stop the sobs coming from his mouth, “I won’t ever see my family again.”

Renjun felt like throwing up listening to Chenle. He probably would never see his parents either. It’s a different kind of sorrow knowing that your life is being ripped away by an unnatural event. He had to live with death repeatedly knocking on his door and his family a lifetime away from him. Was life even worth living then? 

Jeno nudges Haechan, “You should tell us your good news, maybe it’ll help us feel better.” Haechan eyes Chenle, who is being helped up by Mark and Jisung, “I think it can wait a while. We should chill here for a bit, process a bit.” The others nod in agreement and watch as Chenle walks over to the stalls and locks himself into one. 

… 

“See,” Jungwoo huffs as you both run down a hall, “aren’t you glad you don’t have to run with this giant ass backpack now?”

You had tried to go into a bathroom, but were caught off guard by a zombie running at you guys when you opened the door. Now you’re running in hopes of losing it. Your thighs burn from sprinting up stairs but you can’t risk slowing down even a little bit. 

When you reach the second floor, there's a couple of zombies that you dodge past at the end of the staircase and another that Jungwoo shoves out an open window. “Try the doors!” 

You pull on the doors but they are locked shut. You glance through a couple of the windows and see other students hiding in the classrooms. “Motherfuckers!” You yell, “Let us in!” You’re ready to yell at them some more, maybe to guilt trip them into letting you in. You’re distracted by a loud gasp. You turn around to watch Jungwoo pry a zombie off of him, one that has just bitten him in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. It’s strange, the zombie seems to immediately lose interest in him after taking a bite of his flesh and so it turns to look at you with its beady black eyes.

When it lunges at you, you don’t even flinch. If Jungwoo was bitten, you didn’t care to keep yourself alive. And yet, even in his haziness, Jungwoo decides that you deserve to keep living, jumping on top of the zombie. They both fall to the ground, Jungwoo straddling the zombie. You didn’t realize that Jungwoo had taken the knife out of the backpack until he was shoving it through the zombie's skull and it slumped over at your feet. 

Jungwoo glances up at you, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to look at him. He forces himself to stand and pulls the filthy knife from the zombie's head. Jungwoo grabs your hand and places the knife in it, gently closing your fingers around it. “I’m sorry.”

Jungwoo’s words cause your eyes to water and you try to hug him. He stops your hands from wrapping around him, jokingly he says, “Of course you only want to hug me when I’m about to die.” You let out what is supposed to be a laugh but it turns into hysterical crying and you nearly collapse onto Jungwoo. He decides that one hug probably won’t hurt, so he scoops you into his embrace. Your hands drop the knife and clutch at the material of his shirt. Jungwoo needs to pry you off of him as he feels his insides begin to turn. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to turn, but he didn’t want you to be around to find out. 

You’re crying as you quickly pick up the knife and the backpack that were discarded on the floor before hurrying to follow a stumbling Jungwoo. Realizing that you’re still following him, he slows down knowing that if you were close enough to him, the other zombies would stay away. He’s practically crawling up the stairs, but he shows your hand away when you try to help him. Making it up the staircase, there is a zombie that tries to make its way to you but Jungwoo proudly stands in front of you. He yells at the zombie when it starts to growl. 

You barely register any of the situation, Jungwoo’s yelling was scary, like nothing you had heard from him before. It was starting to sound more like a growl than a yell, but his eyes were still his own and so you continued to follow him down the hall. 

He stopped acknowledging you when he staggered into the art room. There are only a couple zombies there that Jungwoo screams at until they leave. The desks and chairs in the room are all toppled over, there's spilled paint everywhere. You have a hard time distinguishing the difference in some of the red paint and blood. You stand at the back of the room and watch Jungwoo pant with his back facing you. When he turns, you search his eyes for him. He scoffs at this and walks over to you. 

“You’re a dumbass,” he says. You sniffle at this, “You’re a bigger one for getting bitten.” Jungwoo laughs and nods. He grabs your hand that is grasping the knife and brings it up, pointing it directly to his chest. “You don’t want to seem to leave, but if I try to attack you, use the knife, okay? Can’t have you dying a shitty death.” You realize that this is probably the longest conversation the two of you had in which neither of you break eye contact. You’re nodding softly at his words. “I can’t have you dying at all.” Jungwoo continued, “I've saved your ass too many times only for me to be the one to kill you.”

… 

The day after volleyball tryouts, you avoid Jungwoo. It had been a little over a month of the two of you being constantly together, going to a convenience store together after school every single day. The teams weren't going to be announced until the following week, but your gut was telling you that this was the end of your temporary friendship. 

Jungwoo should be arriving at the convenience store just about now, most days you would wait for each other at the front gate of the school but every once in a while, one of you would get too hungry to wait for the other and leave before the other. You imagine that he’ll realize you aren’t there fairly quickly, his tall frame allowing him to look over the aisles. Once he notices that you aren’t there, he’ll go over to the ramen, like he always does, grab the spiciest brand, even though he can’t handle it and will have to buy an ice cream after, and then go home. 

Your stomach rumbles, having grown used to eating something at this time, but you know you won’t eat anything for the rest of the day. The money that you thought you had hidden well in your room had disappeared yesterday and you had no energy to confront your father about its where-abouts. 

You had been walking mindlessly, for maybe half an hour and had reached the biggest intersection of your district. You face the intersection, not even registering the cars driving past you. The wind whips your hair everywhere and you move it out of your face. There’s an occasional honk from one of the cars.

The moment begins to feel surreal. You’re hyper aware of certain things, like the smell of the freshly cut grass and the way your backpack strap is digging into your shoulder. You’re so out of it that you don’t realize that the traffic has stopped and the streetlight is signaling for you to cross the street. You’re staring straight at it, but it’s like your brain isn’t processing the image. The traffic starts again and you continue to stand at the intersection. Your mind felt fuzzy.

You drop your backpack onto the ground and inhale the moving air. It’s as if you were the only person alive in your head, all other sounds fading away. You laugh at the weightlessness you’re feeling. You had rid yourself of any possible attachments to Earth. The nothingness was freeing. You take a step onto the road, just stepping below the curb and stare ahead. The wind is moving quicker and you can see the cars again, though they make no sounds. With one more deep breath, you extend your leg, ready to walk directly into traffic. 

You’re not sure what it is that brings you back to reality, it could have been the honking of a car or the rough movement of someone pulling on the back of your shirt. Regardless, you are forced backwards, falling into somebody and toppling over. You’re instantly crying, realizing that you nearly walked into traffic and that that could have been the end. The person who pulled you is now sitting up and petting your head, softly shushing you.

Your hand wipes your tears away and you come face to face with a teary-eyed Jungwoo. He pulls you in for a hug and even though your instincts are telling you to push him away, you let him hold you. 

“Why didn’t you come to the convenience store?” He whispered. “I won’t ever get tired of you. I won’t ever not look for you or keep you out of danger. I want you to be okay.”

You don’t really remember what happened after. Jungwoo told you that he grabbed your backpack before walking you to a convenience store, buying you some ramen, and then walking you home. He says that he hugged you goodbye and then went home. 

But he had only told you this when you were sitting in the cafeteria together during a zombie apocalypse. After the incident, even through your foggy memory, you were embarrassed and avoided him. Jungwoo wanted to give you space but kept an eye out for you after that. So when he noticed your concern for his injury, he took it as a sign of your friendship going back to normal. He was wrong, of course. It’s only now that he’s the one dying that you realize how dear his friendship was to you.

… 

Jungwoo is thrashing on the ground now, and you know that he wants you to run, but how could you leave him like this? Was he scared? Was he in pain? You couldn’t protect him like he protected you, but you could stay until the end.

He is suddenly still. And then he is suddenly rushing at you. You can’t help the scream that leaves your mouth and out of reflex you hold out your two hands, clutching the knife between them. Jungwoo walks directly into your knife, puncturing him in his stomach, and you’re surprised when blood comes out, coating your hands and uniform. You’re still screaming as you push him out of the classroom, pull out the knife from his stomach and shut the door.

You watch him through the window and check his eyes. There is no Jungwoo left. The zombie is trying to walk into the room and keeps bumping into the door. Its head hits the window a couple of times before you’re leaning your own forehead onto the window.

Remembering Jungwoos wish for you to stay alive, you drag a chair to keep the door shut before collapsing behind a desk. You lean against the wall, keeping the backpack next to your leg and the knife at arm's length, who knew when you would need it again.

…

“Remind me why we’re running again?” Haechan whines to the rest of the boys. 

“Because,” Mark huffs, “Jisung tripped on one of the bats and crashed into the lockers and apparently loud noises attract zombies!”

“I apologized!” Jisung yells back. 

Jeno can’t help but think that it’s a little funny how they’re still able to tease each other amidst everything going on. Despite probably being the fastest of the group, he runs near the back, liking that it gives him the ability to see everyone. In fact, he’s the one that notices Renjun slows down his running and calls for the others to stop. 

Chenle immediately starts to complain at their sudden change of pace, “Now really isn’t the best time to slow down-” “Shut up!” Renjun interrupts. “We should go into the next hall, the art room is there. It’s always open and I think there’s always a spare charger in there that we could use.”

They’re quick to agree to this new plan and follow Renjun as he leads them down another hall. When they reach the art room, he suddenly stops at the door. The air seems to shift around them and suddenly they’re feeling stiff, as if going into the room suddenly isn’t a good idea. There weren’t any zombies inside from what they could see through the blood stained window. Jeno pushes his way to the front of the group, resting the bat on his shoulder, ready to swing if necessary. 

He is followed by the other boys, all trying to walk through the room without making any noise. Renjun rushes to the teachers desk and digs through the drawer before victoriously pulling out the charger he was looking for. His small victory is interrupted by Jeno who swore loudly and is holding his bat in swing form, “Holy shit.”

Below him, is you. You’re covered in blood, they aren’t sure if it's yours or not, but you’re shaking, twitching even. This is especially unsettling with the dead look in your eyes. Oh yes, and the fact that you're pointing a knife at them.

...

tagging! @staysstrays

wanna be tagged ? click here:)

#nct dream x reader #nct dream x platonic!reader #mark x reader #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #chenle x reader #jisung x reader #stay alive

[echoe-back-from-the-void]

Supernatural X Twilight~ pt. 3

| 1 | 2 | three | 4 | 5 | 6 |

"I wasn't joking." I say pulling up to the crummy looking liquor store. We had driven near an hour out of town to not get caught. I opened the door before closing it again as he was too in shock. "Gimme your card." I say holding my hand out.

"My What?" Jasper says snapping out of shock.

"Your card, so I can buy the good stuff." I say making grabby hands.

Soon a card is placed in my hand and I examine it with a smile. "I'll give it back. Hunters promise." I say cheekily. I open the door and step to the door. "You'd better stay out here. Your not exactly old enough kiddo." I joke and he makes a face at me.

I laugh while walking into the store and buying a bottle of expensive liquor and an a bottle of my favorite. The whole trip went off without a hitch.

Jasper continued to eye the bottles as I drove. "Looking at em won't make em disappear doll face. It's just part of the hunter lifestyle to be an alcoholic. Unless your Sam. Then your a health nut." I crack.

I pull up to the motel and turn off my car. "Now you know where I sleep. If you try to kill me I will decapitate you with my bare hands." I say tilting my head with a sweet smile. My tone sounds flirtatious but my threat is very real.

He nods and exits the car as I do. Again opening my door. I tilt an invisible hat toward him as I open my motel door. "Night night cowboy. Don't stay up too late." I tease.

Before I close the door his foot stops it and he speaks in a rushed voice. "Do you think, could I join you tomorrow?"

"Mr Hale, whatever crush you think you might have on me, ain't gonna happen." I clench the brown paper bag. "I'm going home soon, I'm going to see my brothers and my friends. I'm gonna shoot Chuck and all this," I wave my free hand, "will be some distant nightmare." I drop my head at his hurt expression. "I have to get home, I have to know they're okay. I have to know or I can't—" I choke on a lump in my throat as it rises higher. "Most hunters don't get to have families. When we do, we hold onto it with claws and teeth, your argue and fight but you don't let go for a damn second because the second you do they're gone for good. I bided my time in this place thinking it was in my head. I wasted enough time playing nice with teenagers. I wasted even more time waiting for some villain to show up. I'm going to bed and then I'm hightailing the fuck outta here even if I have to rip a rift myself." I looked back at him with angry glassy eyes. "Your the empath, tell me if anything I said was a lie." I bite.

He turns away unable to make eye contact as he feels my emotional pain. He then tries to manipulate it to at least ease the pain in my heart but I hold my hand up.

"Don't. Let me feel for myself." I close the door more. "Goodnight Hale." The lock clicks into place and I drift to the bed before putting the expensive bottle to my lips. I swirl it in my mouth before swallowing.

The next morning I wake at the asscrack of dawn and begin packing my few clothes and strapping myself with weapons. I open the door and am met with a broad chest that I follow upward to see jaspers nervous expression.

"If you stayed out here all night I'm officially calling you stalker till the day I die." I say grouching as I tug my duffle over my shoulder. "Cmon Bronco. Burning daylight." I say opening my passenger side door and throwing my duffle in the back. At the same time another door opened but not to my car. I turn and am greeted with Carlisle stepping out of his pristine car.

"I hope you don't mind but my academic curiosity was peaked and I'd like to come with." Carlisle says.

"Fucking Victorians." I mumble under my breath. "Yeah yeah, follow me." I slid into my car and Jasper sits himself in my passenger seat as I pull out the motel parking lot.

I'm sure I sped the whole way there but no cops stopped me so I didn't care. I wasn't going nearly as fast as the Cullens drive. As I drive old tapes of bands play through the speakers. Highway to hell and fly by the night to name a few. They were mixtapes dean had made me for my own car. They were in my hunter duffle and that's how they came to here.

I pulled off the road and grabbed both the tape and the duffle as I stepped out the car.

"You walked from here, all the way into town?" Carlisle asks in surprise.

"Little further doc." I say before walking further up the road until I reach past the sign that says forks. I walk another 20 feet before stopping. "Here." I set my duffle and things by the side of the road as I start to examine what was my entry to this world. I begin to mutter under my breath as I walk around.

"No sulfur, not a demon. No hangin bodies, not a djin. Leaves one more option." I kneel on the ground and put my hand flat on the asphalt as I try to channel energy. After a few minutes I shake my hand from the hot asphalt and snarl in anger. "Where the fuck are you?" I whisper under my breath.

"Whats wrong?" Carlisle asks coming closer to my side. Both vampires had been silent as they too took their own examinations of the site.

"No sulfur, no grace. Nothing." I say growling as I glare at the ground.

"Isn't that good?" Carlisle asks.

"No captain obvious. It means I can't track what brought me here! It means I don't know what brought me here. It means I have to rip the rift myself and with no angels on your side!!" I say with growing anger as I begin to breathe heavily. My chest begins to hurt but I ignore it in favor of getting chalk from my duffle and then writing various runes and symbols.

"And these are?" Carlisle asks in curiosity. He knows I'm angry but he asks in hopes that talking will calm me down.

It does some but I still have an angry disposition. "Symbols. This is for travel and that is time, this one is for sacrifice." I say explaining a few.

"Sacrifice?" Carlisle asks in worry.

"The virgins are safe doc, not that kind of sacrifice." I joke. I tip my head back down to the sacrifice symbol. "Needs blood. No, I won't be needing a donor or anything. Not human. And not neither you. Needs grace, or angel blood if you wanna get technical." Before they can ask how I would get angel blood I slice my wrist open and blood begins to steadily drip over the chalk sigil. The blood begins turning white and glowing faintly. Not nearly as bright as a pure angle would be, but it's something.

I hear a scuffle behind me as Carlisle is holding Jasper back. Probably expecting him to go rabid with bloodlust but Jasper starts pushing Carlisle away.

"I'm fine! Im fine! Look at my eyes." Jasper says referencing how his eyes haven't darkened a shade.

"I'd be poisonous anyway, doc." I shout to them before turning back around to continue. When I feel like enough blood has left and I feel lightheaded I hold my hand over the wound to stop it. I dip the hand not holding the wound in the puddle and drag it with my fingers toward time, grace and travel until I've made a bloody triangle. I stand up and say some Latin mixed with the first language and a small rift grows into existence with a screech. When the sound of ripping dulls I can hear talking then yelling.

"Sammy get the hell away from that thing!!" Dean screams in a distorted voice.

"It appears to be a rift?" Shadows move through the rift and then a light flashes inside the blurry window. "It leads to a world called twilight. Created by a..."

"Cas?" I say nervously.

"Marcella?" Cas responds immediately to the sound of my voice.

I can't hold myself up any longer and fall to my knees before the rift. "Sam? Dean?" I call out to them.

"Marcella! It's good to hear from you kid." Dean says as his shadow moves forward toward the rift.

I choke on a sob as I clench my arm tighter.

"You okay where your at?" Sam asks in a worried tone.

"Yeah," I sniffle as my eyes fill with tears. "I'm safe now, no ghouls or anything on this side. Been laying low at forks high. Waiting for rescue."

"I know kid, but we'd been looking everywhere for you. Heaven, hell, purgatory. We never considered..." Dean says. "We miss you."

"Do you know who did this? And why twilight? Why not mash or the matrix. Did you know they don't even have fangs!" I said with a sad kind of laugh.

Dean laughs too but it's guttural and starts too high pitched to be his normal laugh. "Yeah, you seen the werewolves yet, they don't eat hearts or anything." Dean jokes further. "Big ass puppy dogs!" He laughs again.

"Marcella, how long have you been there?" Sam asks with his usual worry.

"Month, month and a week?" I bit my lip.

"Marcel, it's been a week." Sam says in a sad tone that carries his shock and fear.

"Can't—can't be." I shake my head. Best not to dwell. "Is there a rescue plan, a escape plan, anything?"

"Yeah, find you and get your ass home, where you'll be grounded for the forceable future." Dean orders jokingly.

"Hey I didn't ask to get kidnapped, old man!" I yell back at him but I can't help the smile.

"Well you still can't leave the bunker. And no boyfriends and no joyrides in the impala. Until we gank the sonof bitch that took ya." Dean adds.

His humor and teasing makes me laugh and start crying again. "Can we watch scooby doo and westerns?" I ask in a small voice.

"Always. We can even eat popcorn and complain bout Sammy being a—" before Dean could finish there is the sound of him being hit while Sam whined his name.

"Marcella?"

"Yeah Cas?"

"When you get back do you wanna help me plant flowers for my bees? Recently I found a very beautiful flower and it grows best in late may but you'll be back by then so we can plant a lot of them." Cas says in his monotone voice.

"Hell yeah!" I agree immediately. Before realizing his words. 'But you'll be back by then.'

Will I? A pit in my stomach forms but I smile.

Then the light from the rift begins dulling. Panic swells in my chest. "Cas, Dean, Sam! Guys?!"

"Marcel!" "Marcella."

"Dean! Sam!" I reach for the rift as if I could hold it open. "Cas!"

"Marcellla!" A fearful scream distorts its way though the rift and I stretch my fingers over the rift but it closes and my hands fall through open air and I fall on them.

"No, no nonono." I begin to shake as I take gulps of air though my collapsing airways. Everything is constricting the longer the silence stretches. "Sammy?" I ask in a broken whisper. "Dean? Cas?" My head begins to spilt as I cry harder. I bang my fist against the middle of the triangle where sacrifice is written. My hands splash in the already sludgy puddle of my own blood. I beat my fists harder as I cry. "Open, aperta, Άνοιξε, отворен, otevřít se, offen, opna." With each word I bang my fist again until they begin to bleed with the force. Strong hands grab mine as they stop me from my continued abuse.

I twist in their grip as they pick me up and pull me from the area. "No, Jasper put me down. Put me down! Jasper!" I struggle harder as I begin to hyperventilate. "Let me Go! They were right there!" I feel myself growing lightheaded as I scream what little oxygen I have. Soon passing out.

~~

When I wake again I feel the bandages on my hands and a splitting headache that I recognize from crying and not a hangover. I blink at the ceiling before cracking again. My ribs feel like they are splitting from the sadness and longing that force their way down my throat. I choke on my tears and feel the overwhelming urge to scream but I bite my lip and pull myself up. I unwrap my hands to see the healing wounds and the slit in my wrist gone.

I set my feet on the floor and stand up. Quickly someone blurs into the room to my side. My hand catches the person by the throat as I hold them there. Their hand moves to my waist to keep me from falling and I blink again to realize it's Jasper. His hand is the only thing keeping me from falling and mine keeps him at an arms length.

I push any feelings of sadness and anxiety to the side until it's easily ignored. Compartmentalizing. Something Dean unintentionally taught me in the years I spent with the brothers. You don't need emotions when your a hunter.

I tilt my head and squeeze his neck and feel him flex his arm as he swallows his venom down. Teasingly I say under my breath, "too kinky for you, cowboy?"

His eyes flash a dark amber. And he grins. Jasper leans forward and I let him by bending my arm, hand still on his throat. I expected him to stop sooner but he moves even closer until my arm is bent completely as I keep it on his neck. I can feel his chest through where my forearm is pressed against him. His hand that was on my waist wraps around my whole back until it's on the opposite hip. "I don't know, Darling." He whispers huskily and my cheeks flame up but I tamper that down as I flirt back, challengingly.

"You play dirty." I nose his cheek as my free hand moves to his hip and slips under his shirt to rub my thumb against his hip bone. He gasps for unneeded air as his grip on me becomes tighter. "But One thing about hunters is we play dirtier." I tease as my lips brush against the shell of his ear with my parting words. Then I'm slipping out of his grip and twirled around him to walk to the door. My hand is on the door knob and I turn to him. In a completely normal voice that doesn't give anything away I say, "well your house, ain'tcha gonna show me around?"

"Yes ma'am." He says drawling the words purposely. I roll my eyes and open the door. Im blinded by the countless windows that let the surrounding forest be visible and let light in. We pass a wall of graduation caps and I chuff the air our my nose in a short laugh.

"Think it's funny." He teases me.

"I'm twenty two. You couldn't catch me dead with a cap an gown." I shivered. I leaned against the banister of the stairwell. I could hear the other Cullens in the house, moving and trying to be quiet. I turn to Jasper with a mischievous smile before jumping over the railing and landing the two floors below with precision. I turn around with a beaming smile to see Jasper.

"Took you long enough, trouble on the stairs?" I say with amusement.

"Did you really have to do that?" He asks.

"Yes." I say seriously before walking to the living room where I sit not on the couch but on the floor leaning against it.

"Why is she on the floor?" Emmet asks in a loud whisper.

"Wouldn't you like to eat, honey?" Esme asks in a mothering tone but instead of comfort the hair on my neck stands on end.

"Not hungry." I dismiss regardless of being hungry. "You have questions...again." I say addressing the elephant in the room.

"The—" Carlisle stalls unable to find a right word to fit what occurred yesterday.

"Ritual, or spell if you prefer." I offer.

"The spell you did yesterday, you said it required sacrifice. Not human blood, not vampire either. It required angel blood—grace. If so why did you slit your wrist?"

I sigh dramatically while rolling my eyes. "Geez gramps couldn't take you any longer to get to the question." I tease. I suck my teeth in agitation. "When I met the Winchester it was just after the apocalypse started. Before sealing Lucifer away, dear ol Lucy took interest in me. Kidnapped me away and tortured me for a month straight." I grin darkly at the ground. An odd amusement grows in my chest making my words come out chirpy and sarcastic. "You'd think you know torture until your in the hands of an Archangel. He would remove limbs before restarting. Skinned my whole arm." I chuckle and meet the doctors horrified eyes. "Anything he thought would be fun to try, he did. Then he got this sick idea. Angels can have children with humans, the term nephilihim comes to mind. But he wondered what would happen if he was to forcefully and manually imbue his grace into my blood and body. Archangels have so much juice that just a fraction can be lost without making a dent to them." I calm my excited jitter with my other hand. "I'm not a full angel by any means. Angels are their grace, without it they are human. But you can imagine how your venom reacts differently than your wife's. Some grace is soft." I think of cas and the time he healed my broken arm. "Some so savage and full of fire that it burns from the outside in."

I take a deep breath as I try to calm my erratic excited heartbeat. "To imbue me with grace was give me some of him. His pain, anger, bloodlust and hate for humans. Like two souls arguing over a body." I wave my words away dismissively and bend my knee to my chest. "I never told Dean any of this. Cas knows I go dark. Sam might suspect because we've both been so close to Lucifer. But how would you tell your big brother you've been grace-raped by the devil?"

"So your an Angel but like part devil?" Emmet asked after the potent silence.

"Part Angel, and I don't have devil in me. It's a fraction of the mark of Cain. Least that's what Gabriel theorized." I sigh and let my head fall back on the cushion as I expose my neck. "Being part Angel means I heal faster, got better reflexes and am stronger. Basically it's a power up."

"But who's stronger?" Emmet asked and my head snapped to him.

"Nephilihim, god, archangel, then pagans, then monsters, lastly humans. I'm between archangel and pagan." I says in a contemplative voice.

This time Alice was the one to speak. "You said there was a war Coming, I haven't seen a war."

"Something about new bloods or— led by some red head. Something something something baseball!" I look away from the ceiling to meet the Cullens exasperated looks. "What? Oh so now it's my fault for not paying attention. You try listening to dean talk about sex every other sentence. I lost interest." I shrug.

~~~ months passed and I tried to have weekly rift calls with my brothers. Sitting on the pavement in front of the rift as I talked to them like everything was normal. When all I wanted was to be home in the bunker.

"You shouldn't call so frequently. Sam he uh... he told me how you can do this. Cas filled in the rest." Deans voice cracked even under the distortion. "Cas said it's dangerous for you. Doing this, using his grace. He said you go—" deans voice cuts out. "It's like Sam with the wall, you can't keep doing this or your gonna break. Whether that makes you a vegetable or you go full blown ripper. These personality changes can't be healthy." Even though the rift I could hear the pain and guilt in his voice.

"I never blamed you. Not even when he told me what you were doing at the time. He could hurt me and tell me you were eating a sandwich and I not once blamed you. The hunt before I was kidnapped you saved my life and I could never imagine what happened after. You are my brother in all but blood. I would never blame you or Sam for the pain I went through. To you it was a month to me it felt like a lifetime. You said the same thing about hell once and did you ever blame Sam for being in hell?"

"Well no because—"

"That's kinda what makes a Winchester, the ability to live and die for family and still love unconditionally. Do you remember anymore about the newborn army?"

"You aren't actually planning to fight with them?" Dean asked in exasperation.

"Time moves quicker here. What may be a month to you will be many to me. The army will still come. And I'll keep calling every week. If I contain it until the army comes then I can let lose and not harm anybody. Nobody human." I say the last part sarcastically.

"No! No!" I hear shouting and the silhouette of dean turns over his should. "Sammy come in here!"

Sam enters and the two begin to talk fast under there breath. "She's gonna pull another —?"

"What do you mean another? She's done this befo— you've done this before?!" He shouts while turning back to me. "No! End of discussion, your not doing it."

"Dean!" Sam admonishes dean. "Marcella if this is what you need to do, I know this is hard for you. I support whatever decision you take."

"No no no this isn't Winchester approved until I approve it!" Dean argues loudly making me smile at his behavior.

"You guys are the best brothers a hunter could ask for." I say softly. Both sam and Dean stop talking and sam is the first to respond.

"We love you too Marcella. If you do fight be safe and kick some ass." Sam waves as the rift begins closing on its own. This parting is not full of regret or anger. It's just an until next time. Hopefully when deans calmed down and came around to the idea of me fighting against newborns. Or after. I add cheekily.

~~~

The drive back to the Cullen residence is hopeful for me. Sam's okay was all I needed. Deans would've been better but...can't always get what I want.

Jasper opens the door for me and helps me out of the car. The first month after the Cullens found out, I felt edgy around jasper. He obviously shows interest in me but I would shoot it down with reasons why not. He was undeterred and continued his polite gentleman behavior. Like a suitor courting a lady. Eventually I stopped correcting him and just let him do as he pleases.

His fingers moved down my hand as he held it gently in his icy grasp. The cold wasn't unwelcome, temperatures stopped affecting me some time ago.

"Will you tell my family about—"

I cut him off with a small yeah. I smile and walk faster and when I approach the door I swing it open widely and chant "the fun has arrived!" Like in Tarzan. Emmet zooms to my side and tries to tackle me and I sidestep him. "Too slow." I mock. Jasper holds my hand tighter and pulls me to the living room. "Ya know I spend so much time here I'm only at the motel to sleep."

"Your still paying for it?" Carlisle asks in surprise like he only just realized I'm homeless.

"Well duh. I mean it's under Burt Afrihamian but whoop de do."

"Credit card scams, great." Edward says under his breath.

"Cork it angel, Not like saving lives pays good money." I say spitefully. (Because Edward totally looks like angel from Buffy)

"How do you make money then?" Esme asks in curiosity.

"Poker, pool, gambling, sometimes taking a job in the area like day worker or something. Never make enough to sustain ourselves but if we save it then we can buy things like new guns and ammo. Under the counter shit."

"Full blown criminal." Edward says again.

"Say it to my face you limp noodle." I hiss. "Point is. Im fighting with you, not against you."

~~~

Jasper began training me outside of school to see if I was fit for battle as he put it. So far I had taken him down more times then he had taken me down. So I was deemed battle ready but we still spared for fun. The first time I had him pinned his eyes went dark and I met his other personality, the major.

"Hello Darlin'" the accent he used was much thicker than normal. My first clue. "I've been itching to meet you for a time now. You made him flustered enough for me to slip through." His words dripped like honey and venom as he held my waist and lifted the both of us.

This person who isn't Jasper, had a military presence that made him respectable. Second clue.

"And what should I call you?" I say tracing my finger around his eyes.

"Major, that's what everyone calls me." His eyes drifted. "He's worried I'll hurt you?"

I snorted and leaned heavier against him, my hand slipping to his shoulder as I laughed. "Cute. If you've seen it then you know I'll put you on your ass and smile doing it." I grinned sharply and the man practically purred. "So your his dark side? Maybe our two sides will meet, hit it off and slaughter a city." I say sarcastically. He chuffs and noses his head into my neck.

"You smell like pine trees and lightning. Bitter." He purrs pulling me closer. He just barely brushes his lips against my pulse when I wrap my hand around his throat.

"Ah ah ah," I admonish while moving him back. "Keep your nonexistent fangs to yourself, Major. Poisonous, remember." I tease.

He huffs before grinning. "You refuse his/our advancements? Do you not find me attractive?" He teases back.

"Very 'tractive. But I haven't got time to be foolin with a vampire. I'm not really into necrophilia, ya know." I say sarcastically. "And my brother would kill me twice over for it." I joke. He wouldn't really, he'd probably make a bunch of vampire jokes.

(Stay tuned for part four when I finally write the newborn army fight. I’m moving fast cause the fight was the whole reason I wanna write this.)

#twilight #jasper hale #supernatural fluff #supernatual #vampire #winchester brothers #twihard #multishot

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E Part 15 - I Try (set in 2020)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here Chapter 3: here Chapter 4: here Chapter 5: here Chapter 6: here Chapter 7: here Chapter 8: here Chapter 9: here Chapter 10: here Chapter 11: here Chapter 12: here Chapter 13: here Chapter 14: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as 'Mature / sexual content' just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it's Kirby's inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it's either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia's text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men's dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Kirby's P.O.V:

Kirby takes a deep breath, freshening up and looking in the mirror at herself, on the verge of tears as Eddie walks into the bathroom.

"It's okay to cry, sweetheart," Eddie goes silent when Kirby, wraps her arms around his waist, buries her face in his neck and starts crying, "I got ya, babe, ya okay." He whispers.

"I don't want to be alone anymore, I want to..." She goes quiet, unsure of herself.

"It's a'ight, you can tell me." He reassures, rubbing her back to keep her calm.

"I wanna be with you, I have tried to forget you and move on, I can't deny the way I feel anymore... I want a life with you, I want a family, I want to wake up in a bed next to you, every morning for the rest of my life... I want us, without the fear of Damien splitting us up, all of it, the good, the bad, the goofy, the grumpy, the fuckin' ugly truth is I'm afraid... I'm afraid of Damien, I shouldn't be, but I am, even at my best I can never beat him."

"Then we'll take him on... together," Eddie smiles softly at her, pulling her into a gentle kiss, "first though, ya gotta marry me. I want you, no, I need you. I need this tall, sexy, Celtic rose in my life. I won't deny, I've had some nights where I got drunk and almost went home with a chick, but I couldn't get anythin' from them, everything I could gain from some other broad, you did better than them. Everything, conversations, sex, makin' out in the back of a car, everythin'."

Kirby smiles weakly, "You really wanna be with me?"

"It's why I'm here, I even brought both rings with me. Mox said the idea was insane, 'cause I have work tomorrow, but I can't wake up alone again, not when every dream I have is of bein' with ya... I stopped tellin' Renee about the times I dream, 'cause every dream I've had since ya left... they were all the same, all of 'em, I would wake up next to you, we would talk for a while, and then they'd end when I went to kiss you..."

"'Cause I wasn't there..." She whispers.

Eddie nods, lifting Kirby's chin to kiss her softly. They stay still for a moment, taking in the silence before Eddie moves. He covers Kirby's eyes with one hand and leads her back to the bed with the other, making her sit down and close her eyes, when he allows her to open them again, he has the ring box and is kneeling in front of her.

"Kirby Raven Eirian Aoibheann Rhydderch, will you please never leave my side again?"

"I will admit, this is an improvement on your first proposal." She jokes softly as she stands up, pulling Eddie to his feet and kissing him deeply, feeling a slight chill when Eddie slides the ring onto her finger, "Quick question, Papi, why the fuck and when the fuck did you get your eyebrow cut up like that?"

"October, missin' ya wife'll do crazy things to a man," He smirks, "now put on the prettiest dress you own, 'cause I am findin' a chapel, and we are partin' ways ever again." He looks at Kirby, a wild energy in his eyes as they meet hers.

Kirby feels Eddie's eyes watching her as she gets dressed, a simple plain orange sundress and the black timbs he bought her, Eddie makes sure he looks okay (even going to the length of raiding Kirby's stuff for a suit jacket, before giving up once he sees how well tailored they are to her size).

"Fuck it, c'mere." Eddie shrugs, hoisting over his shoulder.

"Eddie, no, put me down." Kirby chuckles.

"Nah," He pats her butt, "I think I'll keep ya there for a while."

Eddie carries her out of the building, putting her down and kissing her gently when they get outside. Eddie uses his phone to find the nearest chapel and leads Kirby to it.

Within half an hour, they're legally married. Within two hours, Kirby's surname has been changed to Moore. Within four hours, they're back in Jacksonville. In a hotel's 'newlywed suite' together. Eddie above Kirby on his hands and knees, trapping her on the bed, kissing her deeply over and over again.

"Do ya take me as ya husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, forever?" He whispers.

"I do," She whispers, "do you take me as your wife, for better or worse, until death do us part?"

"I do," Eddie grins, "My wifey, no more leavin' me, not now, not ever."

"Gotta put this in the calendar from now on, December first twenty-twenty, married the greatest man in the universe."

"Our wedding anni... aneh... anniversary, fuck that word." Eddie murmurs.

Kirby chuckles softly, cupping Eddie's face in her hands, "how about I say that word from now on?"

"Lil' miss bachelor's degree, my Mrs bachelor's degree, God, you're beautiful."

"Says the most handsome man in the world." She smiles softly.

Eddie smiles softly, "If I don't get you pregnant by the end of tonight, it'll be a miracle."

Kirby sticks her tongue out at Eddie, he immediately mirrors her actions before he kisses her roughly. Eddie growls against her lips, pulling away to take his shirt off and lay next to Kirby, lazily kissing her as he keeps hold of her left hand with his, the metal of their rings making a small 'clink' sound when they collide.

Eventually Eddie falls asleep beside her, and Kirby watches him for a couple minutes, she puts her head on his chest and snuggles up to him, soon falling asleep.

Eddie wakes her up with a kiss the following morning (2nd Dec 2002, Wednesday)

"Morning gorgeous, are ya comin' with me to work today?"

"I gotta sort a lot of things out, but it's all stuff I can do with my laptop and phone, so... sure. I'll come to work with you."

"You're so fuckin' cute... sure, you're a little awkward, a little clumsy, a little theatrical and definitely a workaholic, but I love that about you."

"And you're argumentative, childish, gruff, immature, overprotective, sarcastic, stubborn, a tease, a bigmouth, lewd and short-tempered."

"Oh, and ya also anxious, gluttonous, stingy, and a supposed cannibal." Eddie smirks, grabbing Kirby's face and kissing her roughly.

"You're so sexy, Eddie."

"Don't start flirtin' with me, 'cause you know I'll risk missin' work to fuck ya pretty little brains out."

Kirby gets up, pulling Eddie into a tight hug, going to the bathroom to do her morning routine after he kisses her cheek scar.

"Are you watching me, Edward?" She asks, looking in the mirror as she washes her face.

"Yea, can't help but stare at my lady... my beautiful wife... I'm gonna get you a coffee, and I'm gonna make sure everyone knows ya mine."

"You're going to work in that? It's cold out, A stór [my treasure], put a hoodie on or somethin'."

"What did you just call me, Ma?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"A stór, it means 'my treasure' in Irish." She shrugs.

"I like that, I'll go put a hoodie on, but I wanna hear you say that again first."

"A stór." She purrs.

Eddie spins Kirby around and kisses her deeply, his hands on her waist as he growls against her lips, grinding his groin against hers.

After Kirby finishes her routine, Eddie takes her out to grab breakfast.

He posts a picture of them from the day before on his Instagram and Twitter. He chooses the photo of them at the chapel, both of them displaying their wedding rings, captioning it 'I got her back, and my Queen is much more powerful than her King'.

Kirby shakes her head as she watches him post it, unable to protest, mid-bite of her blueberry muffin.

"There, now we wait for the comments, calls, texts and everythin' else."

"Now we wait for Twitter to set itself on fire over a photo." Kirby chuckles softly.

They don't have to wait long, the first call is from Mox, then Renee, then practically the entire locker room of AEW. Call after call, text after text, Instagram and Twitter notifications come streaming in. Kirby turns Eddie's phone off to silence the constant notification noises.

"We are popular today, Eddie... don't do that again."

"Why not?" Eddie smirks, "I thought you liked me being reckless."

Kirby chuckles, placing her head on his shoulder, he kisses her forehead softly as he turns his phone back on. He keeps his phone on silent and turns off his notifications for the next two hours.

"If we fly out tomorrow, we can get a truck and move everything to New York. I'll also see if we can fly out to Wales for ya birthday."

"We don't have to fly out for my birthday, Kingy... you want me to go, get some papers and roll you a ciggy?"

Eddie kisses her softly, "I'll grab ya coffee, you go roll me one, a'ight, Ma?"

"Okay, no talking to reporters, striking anyone or staring at my bottom."

"Two outta three?"

"Fine, you can stare at my ass... handsome man."

Kirby leaves Eddie in the café, heading to a nearby corner store and picking up some stuff for her and Eddie, she stands outside the café rolling a cigarette. She's practically a natural at it, having learnt from her uncles and cousins, she hands it to Eddie when he walks up to her. He immediately lights it up and hands her a to-go cup of coffee.

"Ready to go shock the world?" He smirks.

"Or get rich trying," She smiles softly, "You give me refuge, I give you a giant, cannibalistic demoness."

"Babe, I have a GED, I don't know what refuge means."

"It's basically another word for safety."

"Yeah, I'll keep you safe, stop ya from gettin' all jittery and keep ya head from spinnin'." He kisses her softly.

A couple hours pass and Kirby's, doing her work and emailing people, sitting in catering backstage at Daily's Place. She's listening and humming along to her 90s mix on Spotify, ignoring the world around her, when a very pissed off Eddie sits beside her and starts grumbling obscenities. It takes him unplugging her headphones, from her phone, to make her notice him.

"Eddie, that wasn't nice of you," She looks over at her American husband, her peaceful smile becoming a concerned frown, "What's wrong, Kingy?"

"I'm gonna punch Moxley in the face, if he asks me any more fuckin' questions." He grumbles.

"Kingy, no punching people, breathe, be calm." She whispers, pulling Eddie into a side hug and kissing his jawline.

Eddie takes a deep breath, reaching over to Kirby's laptop and opening something, starting a video call with Kirby's parents.

"Eddie, no, it's like one in the morning over there."

"Why the fuck are ya video callin' my laptop at this time, princess." Hywel (Kirby's father) groans as he picks up the call.

"Sorry, Da, My American idiot husband did it."

Hywel chuckles, "Hey, son, you two finally got married? Don't tell me it went down like a rom com, I'll owe your Mam a tenner."

"Hey Hywel, just wanted to ask ya, can you two fly out for Kirby's birthday, and would it be alright if we flew out to spend Christmas with you guys?" Eddie asks his father-in-law.

"I'll talk with Oda when she wakes up, but feel free to visit us anytime you two want to. Kirby already has her own house keys, and you can always visit the C.R.C building... I gotta sleep now, or else I'll be awake for the rest of the day, night my little princess, keep her safe Eddie."

"Night, Da, I love you."

"Don't worry, I'll keep her safe," Eddie nods, hanging up the video call, "gonna take ya home for the holidays, gonna make ya introduce me to ya family." Eddie smirks, tickling Kirby's ribs and slipping his hands under her shirt.

#eddie kingston fanfiction #eddie kingston x oc #aew fanfiction #aew oc #aew fic #wrestling fic #wrestling oc #D.U.D.E #Daughters Under Darkness Elite #Kirby Gluttony Lucifarian #Kirby Rhydderch #The King Of Hell Damien Lucifarian #Damian Lum #Vi Pride Lucifarian #Viola Nye #Billie Lust Lucifarian #Bienvenida Marino #Geia Greed Lucifarian #Pelageya Winter #Honey Sloth Lucifarian #Honey Di Napoli #Eli Envy Lucifarian #Elinor Herbert #Sara Wrath Lucifarian #Saraid Grady-Sullivan #Eddie Kingston x Kirby Lucifarian #Eddie Moore x Kirby Rhydderch #wrestling fanfiction

[feyre-darling92]

SweetNemesis Part 5

It was like you were playing in a rom com. Only that this time you didn’t like the story.

“Um, Bond, how the hell are we going to sleep? Because I am not sleeping on the floor”

“What?” he stood next to you.

“There is only one bed” you explained annoyed.

“That’s unfortunate” he grinned. “Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor, either. Guess we’ll have to sleep together”

“Oh, no. No, I’m definitely not sleeping with you”

“I see no other option, darling. Unless you want to fake-break up with me and kick my ass out of the room , which would definitely destroy our reputation as a lovely couple, don’t you think?” his smile grew bigger.

Great you thought

“Tommorow, we will meet our contact” James informed you. “It’s getting late” he added looking at his watch, “maybe we should sleep”.

“Only if you swear that you’ll stay on your side of the bed”

“You hurt my feelings, darling” he joked.

“Maybe this was my purpose after all” you replied opening your suitcase and taking your pijamas.

You changed in the bathroom and when you got out you found James sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you to finish.

“You can use the bathroom” you said and pulled the covers.

Thankfully the bed was big and comfortable. Better than yours anyways.

You closed the lights and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be just fine.

You closed your eyes and tried to relax but then you felt the bed deepen and you wished James wasn’t able to hear your heart pounding faster than ever.

“Night, darling”

“Night. And stay on your side, otherwise I’ll kill you in your sleep”

“Yes ma’am” he joked and you turned your back to him.

Soon you fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later by a nightmare. They weren’t unsual, especially now that you learned about Kerres.

You opened you eyes and looked around the room. Everything was ok. You were safe and so were your sister and niece. But you still couldn’t sleep, resulting in having to turn around every few minutes trying to feel comfortable.

“Can you stop doing that?” James asked annoyed with a sleepy voice.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t sleep”

“Nightmare?” he asked and turned around facing you.

How did he even know? “Yes” you sighed.

“Alright” he said and before you could realise it he had wrapped his arms around you and was holding you against his chest.

“Hey what are you-”

“Shut up and sleep” he said and rested his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want to admit it but after that you felt relaxed and soon drifted to sleep.

The next morning you woke up only to find out that you were still wrapped in the arms of the person you hated most. At least you had slept well after the incident.

You tried to free yourself but failed.

“Will you let me go?” You asked.

“Why can’t you just be quiet for one fucking time and let me sleep peacefully?” He murmured with a deep voice.

“It’s my revenge”

“If your revenge is to sleep with me then I will gladly take it” he let you go with a grinn and turned his back to you.

“Asshole”

“Darling”

You sighed and got up. It was 07.00 and you had one hour to do anything you want.

You didn’t have anything to do so you took a book from your suitcase and sat on the armchair, a blanket wrapped around you.

You were so absorbed by the book that you didn’t listen James getting up.

“Are you reading one of your smutty romance novels again?” he teased you.

“No”

“Darling, your were blushing for over 2 minutes. You should really see your face”

You couldn’t help yourself throwing your book at him. Not surprisingly he cought it in the air and started reading it.

“As I said.” he said still reading the page. “Well, this guy knows some good moves” he smirked “ Do you really like that?” he gave you your book.

“Yeah. Better than not reading at all”

“Oh, I inform you I’ve read a couple of books”

“Well, you obviously haven’t read the “How not to be an asshole” “

“No, I haven’t read that. And get ready. We have to meet our contact”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8,  Part 9,  Part 10

#james bond x reader #james bond x y/n #james bond x you #james bond #james bond fanfiction #my fic #my writing #my story #feyre-darling92 #feyre darling92 #sweet nemesis