#the expendables fic

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only For You

Thorn x female!reader

Summary: Thorn hides a huge part of his life from you and he's constantly leaving for long periods of time. You're not sure you'll ever know all of his secrets, but you know you're tired of saying goodbye.

Notes/warnings: angsty/fluffy, but nothing else really. mistakes, I'm sure. I did my best.

Words: 1354

---

“Going where?” you ask, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to shield your bare skin from the cold. He shrugs out of his nylon, sorry-excuse-for-a-coat and wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a useless effort. In a thin t-shirt, he’ll be frozen in no time and you’ll be left to trade the coat back and forth as he stands on your front porch in the winter’s stinging air. 

His hands slide into his jeans front pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

With a huff, you ask, “What do you know, Thorn?”

He flinches. A hand comes out of his pocket to run over his buzzed hair. You can’t count how many times you’ve asked him these questions, and you kick yourself for bothering when the answers have not once strayed from their cookie-cutter precision. He never knows. Or he does and refuses to tell you. Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t make its way to you. But the hurt in his mossy-green eyes is not for the secrets. It’s not for the disappearing act he forces you through. It’s reserved solely for the brand new weariness in your tone. 

This is not what you do. Your pattern with him has been consistent from the beginning. A month after he first kissed you, three weeks after you first slept together, you received the same pieced-together speech: ‘I have to leave. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know for how long.’ And you provided the same response you always do; a response you weren’t aware at the time would be commonly leaving your mouth; a response he’s not once requested, but with every feature of his face, pleads for: ‘I’ll be here when you get back’. Then he smiles, as always, and kisses you, and you pull him into your bed only for him to be gone by the time you wake. 

But you just broke the pattern with that tone of yours. It’s less welcoming, offering inadequate reassurance that when he knocks on your door in one or two or three months it’ll open. 

Thorn swallows hard as he fidgets in place, and you feel tendrils of guilt spread throughout your system. Thorn doesn’t fidget. Fidgeting means nerves. Nerves mean anxiety. And anxiety is not a well-worn jacket on the man who weaseled his way into your heart. It doesn’t fit. That jacket isn’t made in his size and it feels no different than when a toddler is squeezed into an outfit their parents refuse to accept they’ve grown out of. 

“What I know is that I want to come back to you,” he says. A beat passes and the cloud of nervous energy is shoved aside, likely a required skill for whatever the hell he does when he leaves you. He steps closer. Your heart beats harder. “I will walk up here and knock on this door and wait for you to let me in. Like I always do.”

Lips parting, you sink further into the scent of cologne that long ago seeped into the interior fibers of his coat. It’s an instinctual comfort while everything inside of your body fights your mind.

Fingers twitch to reach out and jerk him inside, but if you do that there’s no chance you’ll resist him; no chance you will even make it to your bed. With one foot through the door, he’ll have you against the wall or on the floor with the hallway runner serving as the only barrier between your back and the chill of the hardwood. With his tongue on your neck, you will forget how tired you are of his rollercoastering in and out of your life. His fingers digging into your flesh will crack your icy determination to no longer miss him until it’s a melted puddle beneath you. His cock deep inside of you will demand you let go of letting him go. 

Well, it’ll demand you let go of considering letting him go. It’s not what you want. If you had your pick of clichéd happy endings, your wicked-smart, tattooed-up, former—you question—criminal would settle in with you. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t form that image in your mind. Thorn with a ring on his finger, you with his baby growing in your belly, a house you can share—if that exists somewhere, you’re losing hope that it’s on your timeline. 

“Thorn, how long is this going to last?”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“No,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. “Not just this time. All of it. When does it stop? When do you stay?”

His shoulders slump the slightest with his heavy sigh. “Sweetness, I made promises. I’ve got people relying on me.”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, praying the struggle of holding back your tears has slipped under his radar despite that not being a possibility before. The only tears Thorn doesn’t catch are the ones he isn’t around to witness. “What if I left you all the time for reasons I refused to tell you about? You couldn’t find me, you couldn’t contact me, you didn’t know if I was safe, you wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if I might be dea—”

“Stop!” he snaps, then quieter, repeats, “Stop.” His eyes fall from yours to the stone of your porch and enough seconds pass that there’s an awkwardness to the silence. “I would lose my mind if it was you, Ok?” he says, connecting to your stare. “I’d go fucking crazy.”

“And somehow you expect me not to.”

His hands move to cup your face, thumbs stroking back and forth over your cheekbones. “I don’t expect anything of you, sweetness. I can't, because it wouldn't be fair. But it doesn't change the truth that you don’t leave my thoughts. When I'm gone, every free second I have is spent thinking about coming home to you.”

Except coming home often means adding to your worries. There’s not one instance in the time you’ve known him that he has returned to you without bruises at every stage of healing scattered across his body. But you don’t speak of them. Neither do you speak of the split lip, cut eyebrow, sliced skin, and the worst of them: the hole in his arm that was shoddily stitched up, leaving a permanent reminder of the secret life he keeps from you. 

Often, when he is asleep, you run your finger over the raised skin, simultaneously thankful that he made it back from such an ordeal and cursing that he left to begin with. Then, from the twisted mess those feelings cause in your head, you find that your pain at seeing him hurt always develops a branch of anger.

Despite all of the blows you know he takes, you're not quick enough to stop yourself from throwing one of your own. “Assuming you’ll be able to come home at all…right?” 

His eyes widen before they squeeze shut. Sharp jawline sharpens more as teeth clench. Thorn takes a deep breath, then proves that his forehead resting against yours is all it takes for your anger to fizzle. 

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you finally allow the tears to spill. They pour with abandon, overwhelming you the way a tidal wave might overtake a small ship in its ocean.

“I know whatever you do is stupidly dangerous,” pushes through your sudden sobs and sniffles. 

“That’s why I don’t tell you what it is,” he whispers as his nose nudges yours. “But I’m careful, sweetness. I’m careful because of you.”

Your lips freeze from the tears that reach them. The salty liquid under the chilled air bleeds away all moisture until his mouth claims a kiss. Not soft, not sweet, but beautifully burning. And from that burn, you find your calm. From familiarity, you find peace. From him, you find home. 

When you separate, your breaths form a puff of heat that shoves away the cold. “I won’t let you down,” he promises. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

---

A/N: there is very likely going to be a part 2 to this, assuming people would want to read it.

tags: @wkndwlff @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @mamachasesmayhem @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl

#thorn expendables 3 #glen powell #glen powell fic #glen powell fanfiction #thorn expendables #the expendables #the expendables fic #the expendables 3 #thorn x reader #glen powell thorn

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

📓 my love

listen okay.....Fe....I have never seen an Expendables film in my life....but Glen Powell as Thorn just like......he scratches a particular itch?? specifically for angst/whump situations?? i have seen the gifs...i am terrible.....

but idk new girl on the team is a little tech genius but she's shit at fighting people (maybe the daughter of one of the old dudes?? aka she's off limits as well)....she is a literal ray of sunshine.....something something she gets kidnapped something something idk how this universe works lol

but the boy just has neck tattoos and he looks damn fine is all i gotta say lol

drop in a 📓 and i'll talk about a fanfic i daydream about

#annie answers #📓 ask #fe my werewolf love #the expendables fic #thorn x oc

[dilfbuck]

9-1-1

buck + near death experiences

#911 #911edit #evanbuckleyedit #evan buckley #buck buckley #911 abc #911 fox #usercam #usernolan #userknight #.gfx #flashing gif #flashing tw #flashing cw #flashing lights #gif warning #listen. idk if this is anything its been sitting in my head throughout this one fic i was reading #something something all of the times buck dismissed how close he came to death + the 1 time he actually died and isnt fine about it #something about characters who view themselves as expendable and then they actually die and come back a little wrong gets to me ok. #also sorry i havent made a gifset in like??? 3 fucking weeks??? idk. im going thru it

[inaconstantstateofchange]

BG3 AU where Wyll's self-sacrifice in saving Baldur's Gate – from cultists of Tiamat, the queen of evil dragons, no less – at great personal cost creates the barest beginnings of a bond to the still-slumbering Ansur. After all, that stymied, accumulated draconic power would have had to dissipate somewhere, and would it not make sense for it to be drawn to the lodestone of a necrotic-energy suffused dracolich?

It would give Ansur a bit of a jolt toward waking, but not enough to bring him to full awareness. The part of him that remained curious, and hopeful, and mourned its lost connection to a bright spark of mortal devotion and nobility – in retrospect, lost to him perhaps even before Balduran’s transformation – latched on to that new path, following it to its end in the brilliant, marred soul of Wyll Ravengard.

After everything, after his father returns to the city, and Wyll... leaves it, he dreams. There’s a different, recognizable creature every time. It starts very small, a little fish in a pond he finds himself sitting by. He is tired and worn from keeping up his mask of careful good cheer, and his body aches from the scuffles it has been forced into. Mizora seems to get some entertainment from sending him after quarry just slightly above his level, or with not enough information to prepare himself adequately. He is learning quickly, but never quite quickly enough, it feels. Here, in this dreamscape, his eye socket still aches, but it is comfortingly empty of the stone that sits within in in the waking world, its chilling weight reminding him always of his mistress’s leash.

He trails his fingers within the pond, and the little fish darts away, a flash of blackened bronze scales. He can’t blame it; he’d hide from himself if he could, too. He says as much to the little creature, and fancies it moves a little closer to the entrance of its little hiding hole. Charmed, and encouraged by the thought that, after all, who else could he possibly speak to about any of this, he settles back against a small outcropping of rock alongside the pool, leaving his fingers bobbing gently in the water, but letting his eyes close and his attention wander.

He tells the little thing about his most recent quest — he likes to call them such sometimes, in the privacy of his own mind, because it lets him pretend that they are anything as glamorous and heroic as the future he dreamed for himself, Before. Even more privately, he draws a mental distinction between the quests he is allowed to take on of his own volition, and the jobs that Mizora sends him on, to further her own unknowable ends. Thus far, they don’t seem to have been anything too horrible, but he fears that such will not always be the case. What can he do about it, however? This was his bargain for the lives of every resident of the Gate, and his own acts at Mizora’s direction have not even come close to outweighing that number.

He is broken from this too-familiar thought spiral by a distinctly unfamiliar – and unexpected – brush of scales against his fingertips. He starts, briefly, but keeps his calm, and merely cracks open his eyes to look down at his little friend. It is poised to dart back into its crevice at the slightest motion, and he smiles down at it, keeping his fingers as still as he can.

“Have no fear — I will make no attempt at you, I swear it. At least one of us ought to be free.”

The little fish makes one last brush against his outstretched hand before darting away again. He fancies it swims with less frantic caution, this time, and counts it a victory enough. When he wakes, soon after, the memory of the strange dream does not fracture apart in the way of most dreams, but seems to tuck itself away, coming to the forefront of his mind only when directly called upon.

[Now with Part 2]

#i have more i'd like to write for this but this is where it's at for now #the themes of the two of them just work so well together i can't stop rotating them in my mind #wyll makes ansur remember what it is to be noble. ansur reminds wyll that he too is of the Gate - its very heart - and in no way expendable #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 au #baldurs gate 3 #wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 ansur #ansur #wyll & ansur #my writing #bg3 spoilers #bg3 act 3 spoilers #(forgot to add those ones before VERY SORRY)

[rexscanonwife]

If you have an f/o that loses many people close to them, imagine them allowing themselves to grieve in front of you. To be held in your arms as their shoulders shake with the force or their crying because they need to let it out or it'll consume them from the inside out. They can be vulnerable with you, they can fall apart with you, knowing you'll help them pick the pieces back up.

#jane journals #self insert talk #💙 oh captain my captain 💙 #this is about rex ; w ; #my partner and best friend and i watched a particularly intense arc of the clone wars last night #it was funnnnn love when star wars hurts me!! #but goddd it goes without saying that rex loses people he cares for every single day #its what they were 'meant' to do. they were made to be expendable #but he knew and cared for every single man in his troop and thats gotta weigh on him over time #idk while the Really Sad part was happening in the ep i couldnt help but think how brea would comfort him #would hold him close and tight and keep him grounded #and ofc she grieves with him. #ougghhhh this reminds me of an old fic i was working on FOREVER ago 🤔🤔 #i didnt have an ending for it but...now im thinking

[shellxrls]

vomit is gross but i’m kinda into it idk

#ok i’m soft launching all of these things #HEAR ME OUTTT PLSSS i promise it’s not too weird #this is probably worse than piss #if i write a vomit fic would you guys hate me #not like #grossly and explicitly descriptive vomit #but like idk snow would probably face fuck you until you’re vomiting around his dick #you’re that expendable to him #cw vomit

[fierce-little-miana]

One shot Relationships: Okita Souji/Yukimura Chizuru, Okita Souji & Nagumo Kaoru, Nagumo Kaoru & Yukimura Chizuru Part 3 of The phone and the shame Summary:

After a heinous visit in Kochi, Kaoru goes home to discover something even more heinous. Chaos ensues.

Or Kaoru discovers that his sister dates Okita and is not happy about it.

(this illustration is slightly too humorous for the tone of this story but this is the only official one I found representing those three like this)

This is the continuation of The phone and the shame!AU (but can be read independently) I already mentioned earlier. I had this idea for a long time but I was really inspired for its final form by @fistfuloflightning's art. I hesitated for a while because this story’s tone is less light than the two previous ones (mind the tags) but @dalissy,@inthegardensofourminds and @fistfuloflightning gave me all the encouragement to run wild.

Hope you will have a nice time and don’t hesitate to leave a comment, you would make me very happy.

#hakuouki #hakuoki #nagumo kaoru #yukimura chizuru #okita souji #hakuouki fic #my writing #the ever expending modern au

[nyaaamato]

i feel so so crazy every time i think about the expressions obito pulls during the kamui fight... everyone always focuses on his "crazy smile" and it's become so prevalent in fanart and fanfiction that you'd almost think his character was defined by that emotion...

instead i want to talk about the way the animators used the (very sparse) light in his eyes during that fight to convey something different about him that i think is so much more important to understanding his motives and feelings during this part of the series: determination (to, in his mind, "save the world") and grief (knowing, at least somewhere deep, deep down that things will be the same. after all- he wants to create a perfect dream world, not a perfect world because when reality refuses to change... then you settle for second best).

during the start of the fight between obito and kakashi in kamui, both of their eyes are lightless and faraway, they've closed themselves off emotionally to stay resolute in their convictions. this is the first time they've fought face to face in twenty years, and we can tell this takes a toll on both of them because the shots switch back and forth between them fighting as kids to them as adults and back again, with their expressions and reactions mimicking those of when they were younger. it stands out less on kakashi, because while he did change as he grew up he still has a fairly reserved attitude and sticks to the shinobi rules of not showing vulnerability in front of his students and teammates.

it's more obvious with obito, because the distinction between him as a kid and an adult are just so different. whether it's quiet sadness (when he talks with minato about kakashi and sakumo before the kannabi bridge mission) or frustation (not graduating fast enough) or worry (they've lose a teammate in enemy territory), his emotions are drawn exaggerated from the get-go. obito is emotional outwardly and that's a staple of his childhood self as well as another reason he's a "black sheep" shinobi.

then, we have several chapters and episodes after his face reveal where his expressions hardly expand past a frown and a deeper frown. it's easier for him to close himself off, dissociate into someone who can take on an entire army, because that army represents the bulk of what he sees wrong with the shinobi world. alone with kakashi, though... feelings slip in. he doesn't have a character to play, a mask to wear.

kid obito's determination not to lose slips through, and you can see the bitter sadness, the desperation behind his feelings. this expression drags out significantly longer than kakashi, and in many ways gives the impression that his will is stronger than kakashi's. kakashi can't bring himself to kill obito, no matter how close he gets. his resolution is weaker than obito's conviction to free himself, destroy his last shred of humanity (his heart) by throwing himself on kakashi's blade.

kakashi's "determined gleam":

versus obito's:

i don't have much else to say really HAHA... i've just been thinking about this like ten second long snippet of their fight since i rewatched it a few months ago because it's something i totally missed when i watched it air years ago. this isn't a kakashi snub either! he just doesn't get his character quite so brutalised by fandom the way obito does, and i'd looove to see more content that doesn't diminish him to "angry guy that swears a lot" LMAO

#he's rude! for sure! but he's not a hazbin hotel character guys... please... i can't take it anymore i'm not strong enough #put the energy that's expended into him saying 'fuck' 300 times in a fic into him being a su!cidal political reactionary. #<- not a revolutionary mind you. or an 'activist' or anything like that #he has emotional conviction and feels things very strongly but unlike sasuke and madara he's emotions based- not logic based #ANYWAYYY i'm nuts about this guy #whatever #obito uchiha #nyammy txt

[roseofcards90]

I have been bitten constantly and my hands and arms are now all red

I am sick and tired of this, I can’t just be outside the whole day getting bit by this dog I am not a fucking dog sitter

#“just exercise him oh and also make sure he doesn’t get out in the expansive background watch him every single second” #“even though we’re not gonna bother with fixing this fence because we hate you and you’re expendable to us” #I just let the dog bite me at this point you can’t even stop him #I just wanted to finish my fic today and I can’t even do that #:/ #my posts

[non4ry]

just two partners relaxing after a mission <3

#resident evil #ashley graham #manuela hidalgo #ashuela #re4 #the darkside chronicles #okay i’m going to infodump about the fanfic/au of them i’ve got in my head so people understand #this is set in the og 4 timeline btw.. i had agent!ashley first capcom 💥💥 #anyways after re4 Ashley decides that she wants to become an agent #because she wants to feel like leon’s equal (she really admires him and looks up to him and has a complex about it basically but it’s not #weird like it is in canon vs ashley just being very traumatized and developing a personality disorder bc of her trauma lmao) #other than that I think she doesn’t ever want to feel like she’s helpless again and she doesn’t want other people to feel that way either #she has good intentions but is still in denial about how corrupt the government is (but she is very much starting to learn bc her father is #a total POS and she’s gonna realize how little he actually cares about her pretty quickly) #re4r made her a little too patriotic for me but that’s beside the point #Manuela is also an agent who was training around the same time as Ashley but her role is much different due to her BOW status #she’s also been in american gov custody since she was 15 and she does Not like them #I’m still going back and forth with how I write Manuela but she knows how expendable she is and knows they only keep her so she doesn’t get #traded off in the BOW black market and become of use to someone dangerous to the gov #there is a lot more about the progression of their relationship and their dynamic as a partner team but i’ll save it for the fic #unrelated to the plot AS FOR THEIR DESIGNS. i realized too little too late how DMC looking ashley is 😭 but it’s fine #I based her design off of her 3.5 design and my own personal spins #manuela’s outfit is much less elaborate because . she doesn’t want it to. catch on fire . LMAO. #I want to give her more outfits for Off the job scenes and really elaborate on the sense of style she develops when she’s on her own #also LET HER HAVE BURN SCARS?? I know that because she’s a BOW she would probably. heal much faster and her body would regenerate #but that’s lame so she gets to have at least Some scarring. capcom writing be damned #oh also this isn’t relevant to their overall stories either but they are both so autistic .. manuela listens to music to decompress #and calm down after stressful missions and she also hums/sings as a stim okay thank you that’s all

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hello 👋🏻 I have a little request (if you have a second ☺️)

I am currently in need of some Thorn (Glen Powell) images from Expendables 3. I have looked through here, google, and pinterest, and I'm stuggling to find some decent stuff (maybe it's all just buried). Gifs have been easy to find, but I dont screenshot them well.

If anyone has some pics or a link to some pics, or if you're able to screenshot without making his face look weird, could you please send them my way? An ask or message is fine, whatever you're comfortable with. 😄 I would forever be grateful 🥰

Also, if you have a Thorn drabble or blurb request, you can send it in with the pics or link!

Thank you 😄

*Thorn fic going up tonight!*

Tagging my list just in case you guys have sources:

@wkndwlff

@kmc1989

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@dempy

@oliviah-25

@rosiahills22

@xoxabs88xox

@matisse556

@hardballoonlove

@Ssa-sadboi

@lynnevanss

@pono-pura-vida

@tgmreader

@amgluvsbooks

@ravenhood2792

@djs8891

@shakespeareanwannabe

@sailor-aviator

@penguin876

@tgmavericklover

@athenabarnes

@emilyoflanternhill

@wretchedmo

@shanimallina87

@crowsreadsarahjmaas

@mamachasesmayhem

@sky2nd

@jessicab1991

@rosedurin

@averyhotchner

@horseshoegirl

#glen powell #glen powell thorn #expendables 3 #expendables #expendables fic #thorn expendables #thorn expendables 3 #glen powell fic

[chattahoochiecoochie]

Language Barrier

Summary: Laura learns Finnish

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: oral sex   

Authors Notes: I don’t wanna hear a WORD about the spelling, the grammar, the conjugation. Nothing. Google translate, reddit, youtube, ya girl did her best but as an english speaker, Finnish is beyond my understanding so do with that information what you will. Y’all know the drill, everything else is here. 

“Hyva tytto.” He’s smirking at her, a glint in his eye. He’s been saying that a lot lately. Perhaps trying to give her enough to go on when she pulls out the pocket dictionary she’s tried so hard to hide from him. It’s a funny dance they do, around the dictionary. She pretends not to have it, and he pretends not to notice the falter in her step when he speaks to her in Finnish, ignoring the very obvious mental notes she takes to look up his words later.

She’s got the first part down. It was easy enough, the spelling making a fair bit of sense. The second word she’s struggled on for weeks, looking desperately for a word ending in an ‘a’. After a bit more eavesdropping, and a youtube video on vowels, she knows she’ll be looking for an ‘o’ later.

“Hyva tytto.” His mouth is on her ear, jaw slack as he whispers to her. Both still tipsy from a late trip to a local bar, they’ve been stumbling over each other since they got back to the hotel. He keeps repeating the phrase, his tone increasingly whiny as she strokes him through his jeans and bites at the skin just above his collar. More, he seems to say every time he hums beneath her hands.

Good girl. That’s what it means. The dictionary is in her lap, the spine thoroughly cracked as she presses it against her drawn knees. Running her finger over the page she reads it again. Good girl. For weeks. When she gets something right, when she gets something wrong and he thinks it’s funny. When she choked back a shot of soju in Japan without dribbling any on her chin (it took several attempts). When she put her foot down about him being difficult in a meeting, letting her tone draw out a warning clear as day. Good girl, he said. He says. Good girl, he says.

A butterfly seems to find its first wings in her stomach.

Laura lets the dictionary slip from her grasp.

“Mää haluan sua.” He taught it to her, on another drunken night. I want you. One of their very first, a cab ride home from a formal event. The words had sounded silky, even in his raspy voice. She says it now, holding him by the front of his shirt.

He whines, voice gravelly from the alcohol.

In a mess of limbs, they undo each other. His socks, her tights. Her skirt, his shirt. When her blouse is open in the front, and his belt undone, the bed seems to materialize around them, swallowing her frame as he presses her into the mattress.

“So pretty.” Kimi lulls, pressing his mouth to her bare chest. “So pretty, Laura.”

“You’re pretty.” The words sound slurred. She’s not drunk, not really, just buzzing slightly, but the room feels hazy around them. Kissing her breast, he grins at the compliment.

He feels hot over her, and through heavy eyes she watches patiently, wondering if she might catch his breath in the air when he whistles over her nipple. Dipping lower, his lips part, before disappearing from her view as he takes it between his teeth, tugging gently. Laura groans.

Lifting her hips, she drives her thigh between his, groaning again at the feeling of him on her thigh. Sucking on her, he pushes down, rubbing the tight spot of his boxers over her bare skin. A low hum is lost between them.

With agonizing care, she watches as he slips down her chest, hands dragging until he’s well between her legs. A slack jaw meets her center, arms hooked through her legs to hold her down as she writhes beneath him.

Licking lazily at her slit, his fingers work over the bud at her center, pressing and dragging across it until she whimpers for him. With every sound, he slows. Swiping his tongue across her entrance until she cries, and then hesitating until her hips bear down into the mattress again. It’s oblivion, satisfaction driven from her reach over and over again until her eyes are pricked with tears.

“More, Kimi.” She’s pleading, clutching at him as if it might bring release easier. “​​Haluta.” Please.

There’s urgency in her voice, akin to his own when he taught her the word. Laura can feel him smiling against her cunt, teeth bared as he holds himself steady.  “Haluta.” She says again.

Pausing over her clit, his head sinks until he’s sucking on her, fingers curling deeper and deeper. For a moment, she wishes she hadn’t begged at all, head splitting from the pressure rising in her chest.

This is the last time he’ll hide from her. Every word, every sound, she’ll catch. Every innuendo, every whisper, every turn of phrase that ‘just doesn’t translate’. She’ll learn it. She won’t tell. It can be a secret, a quiet waltz around the point, just like the dictionary. He can say it, in that soft rasp he reserved just for her, and she can pretend not to dwell on his tone, or the definition. But she’ll know.

And she’ll learn. Picking up the dictionary from where she’d dropped it, Laura turns it over in her hands, running a finger up the fore edge, lingering over where she’s already dogeared it. She will learn it.

“Please,” Arching her back, Laura reaches for his hair, winding her fingers through it as she holds his head down. “Ole hyva poika.”  

There’s a sound, a low groan that might have come from either of them–and then it’s there. A rush of adrenaline, and a tremble that travels up her spine as fluid pools beneath her. She feels raw suddenly, empty and overdrawn.

Through tears, she finds him stuck between her legs still, mouth wet, a hand over his boxers. He’s sat up slightly, on his knees in front of her, running his fingers over a stain he has made in his underwear. Laura groans again, whining at the sight of the mess.

“I don’t remember teaching you that.” His lip quirks, the hint of a smirk.

“Did you like it?” Hands outstretched, Laura pulls him closer.

“Say it again, and I’ll decide.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Hyva tytto.” In an instant, he is on her again.

A/N: This is the last time I experiment with format, sorry y’all. Not really. But sort of. 

#i could have expended this energy on jaimsa but alas #here we are #brain worms (real) #chattahoochiecoochie writes #kimi raikkonen #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #kimi fic

[ariel-s-awesome]

[Wander runs up to Sylvia with a piece of paper]

Wander: Look how well Mister Peepers drew me!

Sylvia: ...Yikes. Are you sure you should be thrilled about that?

Wander: Aw, I don't mind him drawing him doing something gruesome to me if it calms him down a 'lil.

Sylvia: I don't think it actually... does.

Wander: Annnnyways I'm just glad he has a hobby!

Sylvia: [muttering] Glorn knows he needs one.

[they fall silent for a bit]

Sylvia: Say... where did you find that?

Wander: ...

Sylvia: Wander...

Wander: [deep breath] Ididn'tmeantogoinhisroombutthedoorwaswideopenandthenIsawalltheinterstingstuffhehasandImeanmostofitwasHaterbuttherewasabitaboutusand-!

Sylvia: Wander! You know bet- Wait, both of us?

[Wander nods]

Sylvia: Maybe I should sneak a peak... [awkwardly laughs] Just to see if he has any evil plans in there, obviously.

#wander over yonder #woy #woy wander #Sylvia zbornak #woy sylvia #commander peepers #woy peepers #actual original content #this is a weird length between a little script and a fic #maybe I'll expend on this sometime

[tabbytabbytabby]

Somewhere creeping in the night

Word Count: 1,717 words

Fandom: Stranger Things

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Self-Doubt, Self-Sacrifice, intended at least, Protective Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Confessions, First Kiss, Gentleness, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Eddie makes a decision to help save the people he cares about, no matter the cost. He's just not counting on Steve trying to talk him out of it.

Read on AO3

For @lovelylittlegrim for @badthingshappenbingo. Card under the cut.

#steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #stranger things #more expendable than you #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #my fanfiction #bad things happen bingo #filled prompts

[jamgoesart]

Now on Wattpad

Reading sample

》

Restless, Sierra began to twitch, toss and turn, until a few minutes later she woke up with a scream of "No. It took her a few seconds to realize that everything was okay. A nightmare. Again. The recurring nightmare.

Breathing heavily, Sierra sat up and looked around. Everything was fine, she was sitting in her car. Apparently, she had spent half the day there again. It was not uncommon for her to spend the night and the rest of the day in the car, even though she had her own apartment. She spent most of her time in the car anyway, because that's how she made a living. As a "blocker" or "stopper" or on courier runs.

"How long is this going to haunt me?" an exhausted Sierra ran her hands through her hair and then rubbed her face with her hands, "A year."

A damn year it had been. So she wouldn't get rid of it so fast, Sierra thought and shook her head. Very slowly she straightened up, stretched until she heard her neck crack, and just stared for a while through the windshield, where the sun was about to set. It was time to get back to her apartment. A nice hot shower and something to eat would do wonders sometimes, and not to forget to pack some new, fresh clothes.

"It's still a little early," Sierra answered the incoming call, turning up her ringer as she drove through the city, "What are you really up to?"

"Not today. We're meeting in Atlanta in four days. "In the background, Sierra heard a few people arguing, but not about what. "Man, I'm on it....sorry, Gen. What did you say?"

"I'm leaving," Sierra skipped the question and parked her car in the driveway, "Anything interesting?"

"No, not really," as if, Sierra thought, because Marko wouldn't call me for nothing, "Just get to Atlanta as soon as you can. Call me when you get there and I'll meet you in Centennial Park. Atlanta. Not Nashville, not Toronto. Atlanta."

"Got it," Sierra interrupted Marko and just hung up.

Back at the apartment, Sierra went straight to the bathroom, took a shower and packed a bag with new clothes. Then she went to the kitchen, grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and went back to the car. She hadn't eaten in two days, she realized now, and only now did she realize how hungry she really was. After opening the driver's door and falling into the seat, she took a bite of her sandwich, which was just about to expire, and looked down the street.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"Barney Ross," an older man greeted his old friend as he walked up to him, "How long has it been?"

"Too long," Barney greeted his old friend Bonaparte, "How's life in Vegas?"

"It's nice here.... Don't distract me," Bonaparte smiled, "You came to Vegas to visit a friend for a reason. What can I do for you?"

"Same old thing," Barney replied, taking a swig from his beer bottle, "I'm looking for a team."

"A new team?", confused, Bonaparte looked at his long-time friend, for this was not Barney's style, "What happened to the old one?"

■

Suspiciously, Barney looked around, trying to figure out why Atlanta of all places. In the middle of the night, mind you. That 'we're meeting at a little after ten' didn't exactly make everything look right, but that wasn't the problem. Some of the things the Expendables did were beyond the law. After all, there were mercenaries for such tasks.

For now, no need to worry, just wait and see, Bonaparte told his friend as the two men walked down the street, stopping when a group of cars came into view. A possible candidate, but to Barney it was just a couple of kids with cars, causing Bonaparte to let out a chuckle.

"I hope this kid isn't a bust like the last one," but Bonaparte started to shake his head at Barney's words, "What else was he supposed to be? Ex-Navi?"

"Surely no one could have guessed that his resume wasn't entirely kosher," Bonaparte defended himself, pointing at the people gathered about twenty meters away from them, "You'll like my current candidate, and so will Christmas. But only if he can handle the competition, of course."

"He can't," Barney replied evenly, one corner of his mouth turned up, knowing his long-time competitor and friend very well, "What makes you think Christmas can?"

"Knives," was all the explanation that came from Bonaparte.

Three young men, in their early to mid-twenties, walked over from their cars to a blond boy and handed him a bundle each; the boys nodded at each other and a few words were exchanged.

"So," interjected a brunette girl who had slammed the car door and hurried across the street as if it were too late, "what's up?"

"Gen," the brunette was greeted by the blonde, and they both clenched their fists, "the usual. Two hundred meters off the main road."

An all clear followed, the brunette nodding in agreement as she walked back to her car, started the engine and drove off.

The rest of the small crowd began to cheer as eight people walked to their cars, got in, and drove to the makeshift starting line, which consisted of tape on the ground. Those who had been standing in the street cleared the way and the blond walked to the red line to give the starting signal. As he dropped the flag on the ground, the cars sped off, their engines roaring.

When Barney asked which of the people present they were both here for, Bonaparte simply took his little book out of his pocket, flipped through it, and then put it back in his pocket. No answer, great, Barney thought, and let it go for now. As the people ran forward and began to cheer, Bonaparte tapped his friend on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

Both men stood in the crowd to get a better look at who would return first. A dark green car was heading straight for the finish line; the distance to the others was a good car length, but Bonaparte pointed to the opposite side of the street where the brunette's matte black car came to a stop.

"La Santa," Bonaparte said, with Barney in tow, approaching the brunette who was just getting out of her car to join the group, "La Santa Muerte."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the brown-haired woman replied coolly, only giving them a quick glance.

"Sierra Génesis Salamanca," was Bonaparte's reply, causing the brown-haired girl to stop, nod, and turn around with a panting, miss brave look, "Why not? Don Emiliano's little darling."

"What do you want?" replied Sierra, whose voice had become weaker than it had been a minute ago, "or much more from my father?"

To offer you a job. Not a deal, not a business deal, but a job, and for you. Not your father.

#leechristmas #deckard shaw #the expendables #Expendables #wattpad fic #wattpad fanfiction #imagine #imagines #wattpad #fanfic

[esther-dot]

What happened to drifting snowflakes?? Do you know?

No details, just basically ^

#fans should think about the cost and reward theory when it comes to the people who create for your fandom (gifs—fics—meta—art) #it’s very easy for people who expend a lot of energy for your entertainment to feel emotionally drained by all the pettiness #hopefully if we ever get winds they’ll drop in to say hi 💗 #dot chat