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animephantom · 10 months ago

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Delicious in Dungeon, Episode 4: Stewed Cabbage/Orcs

I'm gonna put this in bold here. SPOILER WARNING. IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THIS WEEK'S EPISODE, DO NOT READ.

Delicious in Dungeon is a lovely show. It's got some excellent pacing, and I really appreciate how the main characters all approach the problems the writers present to them. I'd call this a cozy show. The main cast is fun as hell, with Senshi and Laios being my personal favorites. I mean, how do you go wrong with a dwarven gourmand and a warrior obsessed with monsters?

I'd like to add that normally I'm a fucking snob about subs/dubs, but the English dub is lovely! The voice cast does an excellent job conveying their characters' thoughts and feelings moment to moment, and it's clear they felt some fondness for the party due to the warmth you can almost feel in their voices.

We start this episode on the third floor of the dungeon, the Golden Castle, and right away Laios is showing off his extensive monster knowledge, displaying the ability to determine what different kinds of undead are simply from their footfalls. It's here we find out that Senshi keeps camps all over the dungeon, and the third floor is no exception. The group asks if he lives here, and he replies that he hardly ever sleeps here. There's hardly anything to hunt worth eating, so he mostly stays on higher floors in the dungeon.

While there's nothing worth eating here, there's still value to be found! Our dwarven friend had an incredibly clever idea: Golems are 90% magically animated dirt, so why not use that soil to grow plants in areas where you couldn't normally? As Chilchuck, the rogue of the party so neatly puts it, "a walking veggie patch"!

And it's this kind of thing about this show that I love. Most of the dishes are just 'insert given meal here, replace meat with fantasy variant, add fantasy vegetable', and while that might seem lazy to some, I personally love it. How else are you going to contextualize fantasy creatures than with meals you already know? But it's how it does it that always makes me smile.

Like in the previous episode with the Living Armor, where instead of being inhabited by spirits, the ones the party finds are inhabited by a strange sort of mollusk! So rather than come up with an entirely new way to prepare this fantasy meal, why not treat the creature like you would any other mollusk?

Anyway, back to the dirt: I think it's a fantastically clever idea, even if it is an affront to farming and magical studies. Also, how fucking cool is it that he tends the golems by disabling their magical cores? He doesn't kill them to just leave the dirt, because obviously their magic would fade! (I also think it's great that his excuse for tampering with magical creatures is basically "But I'm not tampering!)

This episode's first recipe is a fresh garden salad and stewed cabbage, fresh from the Golem fields! In today's recipe...

Got you!

Joking aside, I really like how the meals the party prepares are related to what kind of adventure they're having. Obviously they're cooking what monsters they kill, but what I mean more specifically is the kinds of meals themselves. This fresh salad and stew is a perfect meal to refresh yourself after a hard day's labor. I imagine the vegetables to be so light and crisp, and the cabbage stewed with potatoes, onion, carrot and bacon sounds light and filling.

After a lovely meal, the party cleans up the mess from the meal and Marcille pontificates on who maintains the bathrooms this far down into the dungeon. The narrator advises that in areas with high foot traffic, adventurers sometimes designate bathrooms to keep things relatively clean.

We already know who maintains them, obviously. It's Senshi's base camp, why wouldn't he keep the nearest bathroom taken care of? And where else would he get the fertilizer for the golems?!

And it's now that a big question occurs to Laios. "Why not live on the surface? Life's easier up there and you can still be self-sufficient." to wit Senshi replies "But if I lived up there, who would maintain the bathrooms down here? Who would get rid of any zombies who get stuck? Who'd fix the golems if they fell apart?"

This gives us more clarity on who Senshi is. He loves the dungeon. He lives to take care of it. But with that clarity come more questions. Why is Senshi here? Does he actually choose to be here, or is he a steward chosen by the Dungeon? Am I engaging in wild speculation? You bet your ass I am!

Senshi goes on to tell us about how he used to maintain an honor system vegetable stand, but he had to stop because someone kept stealing the money. Marcille and Chilchuk exchange a nervous glance and they say under their breaths "So that's why that chest was always filled with money." I have nothing to add to this, it's peak comedy to me.

Oh fuck! Orcs! A tavern tussle is turned into a hostile takeover when these guys show up, impaling some poor bastard for the mere crime of being in the way (That's okay, he can be resurrected for a fairly cheap fee). Your typical anime brawl slideshow happens, but shock of shocks! They know Senshi! And they trade for veg! It turns out they've been displaced by the Red Dragon causing problems! But shit remains violent as the desperation of their situation leaves them unable to let the party walk.

Hark, our party has been kidnapped! And then Marcille experiences a racism. "It's an elf! Look at her face! How barbaric!"

Sure, it's a little funny that the stereotypically pretty elf is experiencing racism and disgust from the stereotypically pig-like orcs present in almost any fantasy anime. I wonder if there wasn't a better way to do this gag though? I dunno.

Then there's more fantasy bullshit. Orcs got chased to the underground by the humans and the elves, and the orcs wouldn't stop raiding the land around them, and the elves poured oil into their caves, but all orcs ever did was rob and kill and terrorize everyone.

But now it's time for BREAD! BREAD! BREAD! BREAD! BREAD! *womph* WE'RE KNEADING BREAD DOUGH! ONCE YOU GET IT STRETCHING EASY, IT'S TIME FOR PROOFING!

Aggression still barely concealed, we experience more 'typical human' bullshit, where humans are all the same, and they're just looking to become king of the UG, and honestly, this plot's already tired. It's nothing new, and I'd really prefer to get back to the nice, relaxing dungeon crawl to rescue Laios's sister please.

AND THE INNOCENCE OF A CHILD SAVES THE DAY! Orc Papa wanted to keep the bread, and his kid says "But daddy, we made it together, why can't we eat it together?" Breaking the father's will to resist.

The episode's second recipe is Freshly Stolen Vegetables with Chicken in Stewed Cabbage, Best with Stolen Bread.

Do... Do I need to say anything about how this meal relates to the matter at hand? No? Cool. As with all anime food, it looks delicious as FUCK and I'd love some. And now Marceille is slightly less racist due to spicy food!

Laios clears up the misunderstanding by revealing his grand quest, and thank the writers so damn much for this. I was so worried that the plot was going to become a grand quest to become the king of the underground. With this in mind, I'll give the mention a pass. I know it's going to come up again later, but I feel like it's going to be a byproduct of trying to save the sister.

Sent off with well wishes and some leftovers, we continue our trek into the dungeon, to be continued next week, February first!

Overall, I enjoyed the episode. While the fantasy racism is tired as fuck, I still enjoy how food brought everyone together. It's silly, and I wouldn't have missed this part of the episode at all, but the rest of it is still pretty good. 7/10 or whatever, I'd watch it again.

#delicious in dungeon #anime review #anime #netflix #love you all have a good night

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the-faultofdaedalus · 4 years ago

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I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.

They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.

They left the girl readily.

The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.

She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.

The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.

She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying.

Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother.

(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)

((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))

The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.

The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.

Thyme wakes up in a clearing she recognizes well. Her mother is not there.

The house she had grown up in is a pile of logs on the ground, destroyed and broken and in disarray, and Thyme is afraid. She calls for her mother, once, twice, and then rolls up her sleeves and begins the trek towards town.

Her home is not here, she has neither her bow nor her knife, and if she means to figure out what happened she needs supplies. People are always in need of a witch, she knows, and her mother taught her long ago the value of a silver tongue.

Except.

She walks out of the woods, and the town is... different. Smaller. The mill she knew so fondly, that she used to climb in with the other children of the village, isn’t there.

There’s no indication it was ever there, and all at once, Thyme realizes what the ritual was for.

It was a time-spell, and now she is in the past. The house is in ruins because her mother has not repaired it yet, the mill is gone because it has not been built yet.

She is here, because...

She does not know.

And now, it is up to her to take care of herself.

She learns the date from the villagers, gets herself a room at the inn and a good hot meal in exchange for looking at the innkeeper’s son, who has been wracked with cough for weeks now, apparently.

His face is one Thyme knows, one that in her days were covered in wrinkles and laugh-lines, and as she goes back out into the woods to collect the herbs she needs to cure the boy, she thinks.

The boy will take the inn over from his father, and he will always welcome Thyme’s mother in with open arms for saving him when he was a child. Either the story had been wrong, or Thyme has already broken things.

Thyme does not know which one she fears more.

She waits in the village for a full turn of the moon for her mother to come. She knows that this is when she should have come in to town. She knows that she should show up here, any day.

The boy’s cough gets better and when it’s gone completely Thyme buys herself a knife at the blacksmith’s and returns to the woods, to the clearing she calls home. Hands on her hips, she surveys the once-cottage, and makes a plan.

The house takes a long time to build. She buys an axe, makes a bow, and sleeps under the stars while the house is very slowly built back up. Walls, roof, floors, and then a fireplace, big and wide enough to fit a cauldron, built from special bluestone she hauls from a nearby hill one lump at a time, all the better to brew inside.

Mama, she thinks wryly, you better be grateful for this.

She hunts for herself, mostly, snares rabbits and shoots down deer, strips them of their skin, treats it and leaves the fur out to dry. They’ll be good blankets, a good winter cloak, someday. She knows what plants she can eat, what plants will be good, and she survives. She builds.

She does not tell the villagers her name, and they know her only as “the witch.”

Thyme eventually stops waiting for her mother. She watches herself in the mirror, and aches at how much they look the same. How much she’s turning out like her mother.

She helps the villagers, occasionally travels further to heal illnesses in other villages, but mostly stays to herself, in the woods, collecting books and herbs and the house grows more and more as she remembers it. Her hair, that used to be so dark, raven’s hair, her mother would say, braiding it back for her before she learned to do it herself, gets shot through with white and goes grey.

There’s wrinkles on her face that didn’t used to be there.

Thyme stops waiting, and becomes the witch of the these woods.

And then.

The King and Queen of these lands show up at her door, and they are holding a baby girl.

Please, they say, We need a son. Give us a son.

And Thyme, who now has a scar on her cheek from a branch whipping at her too fast to avoid, who knows that her mother had had the same scar, looks at the baby, meets her eyes, and knows that they are her eyes.

I’ll give you a son, Thyme tells them, as if through a trance, but the cost will be your daughter.

They agree, as she knew they would, and she makes a boy out of clay and wood and she remembers learning how to make constructs like these with her mother, she breaths life into it and sends it off with the King and Queen and she holds their baby in her arms.

Black hair. Dark eyes. A quiet baby, who looks up at her with a solemness that Thyme’s not entirely sure babies are supposed to have.

Hello, little one, Thyme says, holds out her finger for the baby to grasp, feels her voice crack down the centre like a burnt-out log when the infant holds her finger in her chubby little hand.

She’s a princess. This baby is a princess, and this baby is her, and her mother has never existed. She knows all these things now, but the thing that she knows most strongly is that she will protect this child, and not only because this child is her.

(It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother telling her, it is alright to take things for yourself. You do not need to give yourself away, remember that.)

She has to build a crib and cradle for the baby, and until it’s finished, until she knows that the birchwood and blanket is as comfortable as it can be, she sleeps with the baby -- with Thyme, her name will be Thyme, and she smiles as she thinks it -- on her chest.

She goes into the village, walking through the woods as baby Thyme looks at the trees and the plants with wide eyes, brings her to a farmer who has raised three girls, knocks at her door, and says, help me.

The witch doesn’t know how to care for a child, and she is going to learn. She must learn.

The farmer helps her gladly, something in her eyes that tells the witch that she misses having children, that however much she loves her girls, grown and adventurous, sun-browned and strong from working the fields with her mother, she misses caring for an infant.

She learns how to make formula out of goat’s milk, how to burp the baby, how to change and wash her. She learns how to tell why the baby might be crying -- even though baby Thyme rarely cries, prefers to watch the world with her big, dark eyes -- and how to fix what might be wrong.

She sits with the farmer as Thyme plays with a doll carved from a cow’s bone, and learns how to thresh wheat.

The farmer never asks where the baby came from, but does remark how alike they look, that Thyme looks just like her mother, and the witch smiles at that.

Thyme seems to grow quickly, learning to crawl, and then to toddle around while hanging off the furniture, and the witch cries at Thyme’s first, unsteady and unsupported steps, even as she builds high shelves into the rafters of her home so that Thyme won’t end up eating things she shouldn’t.

The witch takes Thyme into the village more and more, first in a bag tucked up close against her chest, and when Thyme grows more, holding her hand as she runs through the woods as fast as her little legs will carry her. Every time Thyme runs off to bring back a flower, the witch feels a surge of fondness she refuses to suppress.

The mill is built, and the witch watches as Thyme runs off to play with the other village kids, brave and fearless and so, so curious.

She teaches Thyme her first charm when the girl is eight, and Thyme takes to the craft like she takes to memorizing the names and uses of plants, like she takes to a bow and knife, like she takes to books, exactly as the witch knew she would.

Sometimes, the witch hates the lie she’s made Thyme into. She agonizes over it, over she should tell the girl her true parentage, should spill this secret like a cut bag of wheat, but--

She does not want Thyme to know that she was traded away so easily. She does not want Thyme to know that to her birth parents, she was worthless.

She asks, though. Asks, do you want to be like the girls in the books? a princess? and is warmed to the core when Thyme answers no.

Yes, the witch had known what she had answered. Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her life, her studies, the woods, her home.

(Yes, the witch knows that Thyme loves her mother, because the witch loved her mother. She knows this, and still, she asks.)

The witch teaches Thyme how to make constructs, how to animate them, is proud beyond words when on her fifth try, casting over a wood skeleton covered in clay, the shape of a rabbit, the thing shivers to life, and hops over to push it’s nose into Thyme’s outstreached hands, the girl beaming so brightly that the witch thinks the woods might be glowing with it. The rabbit-construct is lumpy, and uneven, it’s movements slow and unnatural, and she has not yet taught Thyme how to cast the illusion spell onto it that will make it look real, and alive, but Thyme looks so happy that the witch nearly, nearly, forgets her guilt at the purpose of this spell.

Thyme grows, first into a teen, skinny and narrow from how she had shot taller like a willow tree, bony and sharp and lean, and into a woman, growing broad from good food and hard work, takes to hiking into the woods for days at a time with only her knife and her bow and a pouch of herbs, returns home with wild hair the witch combs out for her as Thyme tells her of her adventures.

It matters not that the witch knows all of these stories, knows them because she lived them herself, when she was a girl. She listens to her daughter, dragging the comb through her tangled hair, asks about the falls she found, the cliffs, the animals, the herbs, makes sure that Thyme knows that she will be listened to, that she deserves to be listened to. She listens, because she knows that no matter how much Thyme loves going on these adventures, she also loves coming home, and sharing in these simple, cozy moments.

Winter comes. With the cold comes a grief, a guilt, that weighs heavy on the witch’s heart. She begins preparing for the ritual, for the time-spell that will send her daughter backwards and into loneliness and into the position to save herself from what her true parents would force her to become, backwards to learn the truth, backwards to become her.

She knows why she must do this. She has scryed on her construct, the prince, the soon-to-be-king, every moon since she sent him away and took herself in his place. She sees what he has grown into, she sees what the power has done to him, she sees and she knows that she and her daughter would have suffered greatly in that role. She sees him make hard choices.

She sees him go to war.

She sees the illusion she cast over branch and clay bleed. She sees him, bandages around his torso, arm hanging awkwardly by his side, leave the castle, and wade into the lake outside of it’s walls. She sees the clay in the lakebed melt towards him, heal the wounds, make him fit to wield a sword the very next day.

She does not want that. She does not want that for her daughter.

It is alright to be selfish, Thyme, she remembers her mother saying to her, remembers saying to her Thyme, bleeding for others is a gift. It is valued, but it is up to you to give it.

Spring comes. Reedy plants are tended into a circle. Summer comes. Fires are burned over the dirt, ash mixed with soil. Fall comes. The heart of a boar is buried under the circle, placed to rest with gentle words. The witch and her daughter, Thyme and Thyme, stand together, hands raised, looking at each other.

The witch whispers, I’m sorry.

And her daughter disappears.

#my writing #original writing #witches #fairy tale #HOLY SHIT I STARTED WRITING THIS A LONG-ASS TIME AGO #anyways. here's thyme.

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noodle-slurp · 2 years ago

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CONTENT WARNINGS: Nongraphic mentions of fatal, anxiety of digestion, fearplay (?), Soft vore. I am not good with content tags, lemme know if I missed any Anyway have this snippet of a day dream I have been having lately. Will I write the rest? will I add the before half? who knows!I just needed this particular part out of my system - stat. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --Steam begins to rise from the pot, savory and warm. It had been a few weeks since they had eaten anything decent, and they were looking forward to the stew finishing. They wished it’d get done sooner. Their stomach tightened and groaned, pleading with them to just ram the raw ingredients into their mouth like a feral animal - it was a challenge to summon up the will to ignore it. Distraction comes in the form of a sense of being watched. They squint past the flames into the darkness, heart racing in their ears. They tell themselves it’s nothing - that they imagined it, that they’re just being paranoid, but they know there’s things out there in the shadows, monsters hiding just beyound where the light reaches. Ok, maybe Monster(s) as in multiple, was a stretch, but they knew of at least one that prowled these woods, and each night they spent here, was a night they wondered if he’d find them. They weren’t sure how they felt on that prospect - sure, his main diet consisted of humans, but their initial meeting had gone... as well as it could have gone, really. They’d lived, at least. Despite his words upon their last departure, they wondered, if maybe, just maybe, things could go well a second time....It’s not like they had anything else to hope for. They didn’t know where else to go anymore... That itch of being watched becomes the sense of being hunted. Their skin crawls and they fight to steady their breathing as Flight kicks in. They bounce their leg, but don’t move. “Can I finish my soup at least?” they ask, not entirely sure anyone was there at all. There is a rustling - followed by slow, heavy steps that stop beside them. They look up, green eyes catching on the mans legs. They tilt their head until their eyes meet with the giants, fierce and gleaming in the firelight. He frowns down at them, seeming irritated. “Do you remember what I told you would happen if you came back here?” he asks gruffly. They look away, feeling guilty and disappointed. They knew where this was heading. “That you’d eat me.” “That I’d eat you.” he echoes, eyes narrowing hungrily. He seems equally disappointed. Their insides twist making them feel sick. They stare at the steaming pot of stew, gnawing on those words. They had hoped this would go differently, they didn’t know why they thought that, they just hoped, maybe if they believed it hard enough, it would be so. “Do you have to?” they ask, not hopeful. There’s a scoff from above, he probably rolled his eyes. “Did you have to set camp in these woods? If you didn’t want me to eat you, you shouldn’t have come.” He had a point. They had options, but these woods were familiar to them, home long before he made it his territory. Part of them simply hadn’t wanted to leave. I mean, it was here they found him, a giant, the first sign of there being more in life than they’d known their entire life. A sign that there was magic hidden away - waiting to be found again. They look up as a clawed hand reaches for them. “Wait.” They ask, heart leaping into their throat as they stand and back up a few feet. They know better than to run from a predator - but the urge is hard to fight. “Can I ask for a favor?” “You can ask.” he drawls, fingers brushing past them as they stumble backwards more. “Can’t promise I’ll grant it.” “Can I-” they swallow the panic rising in their throat as he reaches for them again. “Can I at least finish my soup?” “Why bother?” he replies coldly, swiping them into his grasp. Dizziness washes over them as they’re lifted from the ground, feeling weightless and nauseous. “I don’t want to die hungry.” they plead, looking up into those gleaming eyes. They reminded them of a cats, bright and menacing . “And I don’t want to wait.” he responds bluntly. “Cmon.” they plead with a nervous smile. “I’d be more filling....Like a ...a stuffed chicken. Probably taste better, too...” They look away, unable to hold his gaze as they speak. They sense bile creeping up their throat. They aren’t sure they could eat even if they tried at this point. he makes a humming noise, as if thinking, though, they know he already has an answer. “Can you...at least make it quick?” they ask before he can reply, giving up their initial request. “I’ll think about it.” he huffs before dragging his tongue across their face. They brace their feet against the giants collar bone, trying to push away from his mouth. “please.” they whine, much to their own shame. He merely huffs hot, amused breath into their face before pulling them past jagged fangs and towards his throat. They squirm against his tongue attempting to squiggle back the way they came- they go still as his fangs settle heavily on their shoulders and spine. They wordlessly pray to any god that will listen that he will simply keep pressing down until they snap in half. Unfortunately, the pressure eases, releasing them just so his tongue can press them into his pallet, squeezing the air from their lungs and leaving their hands scrabbling against the slick muscle in any attempt to find a better position. There’s a deafening rumble around them, gravity shifting and pulling them into a pocket of air that they inhale eagerly - and immediately choke on. They open their eyes to see only darkness before them. There’s another rumble - and they are slipping down his throat as he tilts his head back to swallow again. It’s an uncomfortable and suffocating descent. There is a thrumming in their ears, a pulsing in their body, it takes them a moment to realize it’s a mixture of their own blood racing through them, and the beating of the giants heart around them. They’re almost grateful when they’re pushed into his stomach. They cough and wheeze as they take deep lungfuls of the rancid air. Each breath burns with scalding heat all the way down.Their head spins, a constant feeling of falling weighing on them as they pulled themselves into a more comfortable position. Well, as comfortable as being in a cramped gut could be, they barely had the space to move. There is a pressure above them, one that moves down their head and over their shoulders - the giant rubbing his stomach. They hear him catching his breath, and the stomach tightens around them as he settles himself into a sit, before relaxing as he leans back with a content grunt. They feel sick with dread, fearful of the pain of dying that is soon to kick in any moment. They wonder, grimly, how long it will take - how long they’ll be conscious for it....They find some relief in the void tugging at their mind, consciousness quickly slipping away as the organ squeezed and groaned around them. It isn’t long before the darkness becomes soft and weightless, feathery light and peaceful, dragging them down into slumber. ---- The giant keeps a heavy hand over his full belly, content with the fullness his prey had given him, but somehow...dissatisfied still. He presses his back into the tree and looks over the small camp, now that he bothered to look, it was set up strangely, as if they had planned to stay here longer than a few days. Blankets and books spilled out of the tent and various trinkets sat on rocks and logs they had set up as stands around the fire. He sniffs and furrows his brows - they’d been out here for at least a month. How they’d gone unnoticed so long was beyond him. Perhaps...it was because this was the first night they had chosen to cook something? It had definitely been the smell of the stew that brought him here...But in that case, what had they been eating all this time? He huffs, annoyed with himself. Why did it matter to him? He could feel the human shift in his guts and go still.Disappointing, and yet, somehow a relief. He was certain they had passed out. Why did he care? He tips his head back to gaze at the stars, troubled and annoyed with himself. Was he really considering this? Humans were food - plain and simple.... Even ones that been weird and helped him when he had gotten injured - and especially the ones that asked too many questions. What if he had been right? What if this one was just pretending to be nice to get something from him? What if they were using him? What if - what if...they were just that foolish...? He frowns at himself and he is drawn out of his thoughts by a loud grumble from his middle, his stomach preparing itself to begin digestion. He ponders the bump, something he hadn’t really bothered to do before. He wonders what it must be like in there - and he wonders how fast it all happens - he’s never bothered to find out - as he usually sleeps after a hunt. He wonders if it will be unpleasant for them - if they’ll wake during it....he tries to imagine what it’d be like to see inside himself and watch it all happen....and he realizes the feeling eating away at him...is guilt. He runs a hand down his face and lets out a frustrated grunt. he looks back up to the stars. “just this once” he says to them before pulling himself forward onto his knees “Just this one...” He places his hands carefully, to avoid damaging anything in the camp, and tightens his core. It feels wrong - foreign, and he swallows them back down the first try he makes. It’s surprisingly difficult to bring the prey back up, his body telling him not to, even when he very much wants to - needs to, but eventually, they are deposited on the ground in front of him, soaking wet and miserable, but alive and unharmed. He worries for a moment, that they might have suffocated in there, that they had passed away already, but a ragged wheeze leaves their lungs before they choke and begin to cough. They look almost funny like this, gasping and inhaling air like a fish out of water. He notes the lightness in his chest, and despite his shame, he finds relief in their well-being. They struggle to their hands and knees, coughing and wheezing until they finally catch their breath - and then, with a confused groan, they pass out once more. The giant huffs and rolls his eyes. Humans were such fragile creatures. He decides to stay with them until the morning, ensuring nothing else comes to grab them while they slept.

#vore writing #soft vore #g/t #sfw vore #my writing #yeet

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graniairish · 4 years ago

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Walking on eggshells

So this is my first own story here. I hope it is written in an understandable way. (Please ignore any grammatical errors. English is not my mother tongue.)

Title: Walking on eggshells

Words: 6761

Warnings:��language (some explicit words), harassment and insults, heartbreak

Summary:

Daryl and reader have been close friends since the early days in Atlanta. They are deeply in love with each other but have no clue about it.

At some point new people join the community, including a young woman who is immediately after Daryl.

Reader is not exactly thin, no size zero, but also not fat, rather curvy, feminine. Even in this apocalyptic time. (you are just the way you are.)

Daryl has withdrawn more and more from reader, avoids contact. Reader believes he does that because he now has a perfect woman by his side.

However, Daryl avoids reader because he does not know how to deal with his feelings.

One day reader goes on a run that goes wrong. To save their group, the reader does a suicide stunt, that can cost her life.

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"Ya even know what ya're doin’?"

Those were the first words Daryl Dixon had ever said to you.

It was still at camp in Atlanta. Daryl stood over you, the sun behind him, as he looked down at you as you made a stew from a basket full of leaves and mushrooms.

“Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing here. My mother taught me as a child which mushrooms and plants are edible, and which can be used as medicine."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

"If ya say so."

With that he dropped something in front of you.

"Maybe the whole thin’ tastes like somethin’ with that," he said before he turned around and made his way back to his brother.

Your eyes followed him - confused. Only then did you notice that he had thrown about a dozen freshly hunted squirrels in front of you.

Maybe the grumpy redneck was not that bad after all, you thought to yourself with a smile as you started to skin and gut the dead animals.

It was not long before a friendship developed between you. You were the only one he really let near him after the disappearance of his brother and Sophia's death. And after the farm was overrun by Walkers, he was by your side to comfort you.

He was always there for you, just as you were for him. You cared for each other.

But you only noticed how deep the feelings really were on your side when Daryl - after the incident with Woodbury - had turned his back on you and everyone else and disappeared into the woods. Just to be with his brother.

The realization that you were infinitely in love with the withdrawn redneck hit you hard. And just seeing him walk away hurt you so much that you could not breathe.

Without knowing it, Daryl had broken your heart into a million pieces.

It felt like he took a part of you with him.

More and more you withdrew from the others. From time to time, you even slept in the old management office of the Prison, far away from the cell block, from everyone else, from your family. You just wanted to be left alone in your grief and heartbreak.

In the first time you had gone through hell emotionally and a psychological breakdown would not have been long in coming. And if it had not been for Maggie, you probably would not have found your way back.

She had been your solid rock and, without you really noticing, had become your best friend - your sister.

And after a while it got better. It did not hurt that much anymore. Although it was not quite true. It still hurt - hurt infinitely - but the distances that those waves of grief hit you grew larger.

And then suddenly Daryl was back.

It was a shock to you.

And the moment he moved back into his cell in the cell block, you moved out. There was no trace of you or your belongings in the whole building anymore.

Quietly, and without anyone noticing, you moved into the management's office - permanently. The thought of being so close to him - physically - without actually being able to be close to him was just unbearable for you.

And so you had retreated.

Daryl did not seem to mind. It almost seemed as if he had not even really noticed it.

You hardly had any contact with each other. He rarely talked to you, and if he did, then only what was necessary and as monosyllabic as possible. He even seemed to be avoiding you.

But that's how life works - hard and unfair.

And you cannot choose who to fall in love with.

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. But it only worked like that in movies and love songs, right? It did not work that way in real life, at least not for you.

As time goes by you had devoted all your concentration to your small farm. Your mother taught you how to handle plants as a child. In your previous life - before the apocalypse - you also had a vegetable garden with which you mostly tended yourself. So you knew the job and it was easy for you.

You lived in your own little world where you worked side by side with Rick and spent your meager free time with Maggie. Sometimes Carol would join you, but you had already noticed that she somehow always dropped a few comments about Daryl.

You did not want to talk about the redneck, let alone think about him. So, you ignored her as best you could - or at least her suggestions.

But it was not that easy. Your whole prison family knew how deep your feelings were for Daryl. No matter how hard you try to hide it, hide yourself from it.

Then Woodbury fell. New people came to the Prison and with them a young woman - Michelle. Probably only in her mid-twenties, model type, blonde, pretty. A typical homecoming queen.

To you, she made it seem like she had never worked hard in her entire life. She was the type of person who always muddled through, for her own benefit.

And just a few days after moving in, she was permanently on Daryl's heels. She asked questions, talked to him, spent most of the days near him.

But worst of all, she was openly flirting with the man you loved, and he did not seem to mind. Your stomach cramped painfully at the sight, and you had not been able to eat for two days.

Your heart, painstakingly patched together, broke one more time. After that you had avoided Daryl and his blond girl for almost a week, avoided them like the devil had shunned holy water.

But it could not go on like that. And at a certain point you realized: as long as Daryl was happy, nothing else mattered. At least for you.

To make matters worse, there was that cruel little voice in your head that kept whispering to you why Daryl was interested in Michelle and not you. It kept talking to you, all the time.

And then the little wheels in your head started spinning until you were caught in a vortex of thoughts.

She was thin and delicate; you were rather well built.

Her shoulders were narrow; yours were broad.

Her stomach was flat; but you had unmistakable love handles.

She had a firm, shaped ass; you childbearing hips - as your mother used to call it.

Her golden blonde hair always fell in gentle waves down her back. You always had your y/h/c ones in a messy bun. And after hours of hard work in the gardens, you always looked like a half-plucked chicken.

You would never have any chance of comparing yourself with this beautiful, gorgeous woman. Michelle was perfect.

You were just you.

But the worst part of this whole thing was that this woman could not leave you alone. She had won, the man was hers. What else did she want from you?!

Every now and then she dropped small comments, out of the earshot of others. But so that you could hear them very well.

"Hard to believe how one can be so well fed.”

“Are you secretly eating your way through our supplies?"

"Given your size, a whole bunch of Walkers could get fed up with you for a week."

It hurt, hurt infinitely. But you were willing to endure everything. You did not want to make a scene. Did not want to get upset, maybe to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

In the depths of your heart, you only wanted one thing. You just wanted Daryl to be happy. Everything else does not matter to you.

But what you failed to notice in all your self-doubt and self-sacrifice was: Daryl was not happy.

You were both blind to each other's intentions, had no idea why the other acted the way he was doing.

But the inner circle of your family, especially Maggie and Carol, knew what was going on. And having to watch the two of you - while you did not notice it yourself - slowly but surely drove everyone to despair.

The whole thing was like a fucking soap opera!

You and Daryl had barely spent time together and avoided each other as best you could, so you had not noticed all the little signs that spoke volumes to all the others.

How his ears turn red when you have been near him.

How he sometimes looked at you a little longer than others.

How he changed his shifts in the guard tower just so he could take care of you when you were near the fences during your work.

The moment Daryl faced you for the first time since his return, the floor was torn from under his feet. When he saw your y/e/c eyes looking at him, he felt his heart swell. Warmth spread in his chest and he had thousands of butterflies in his stomach. The redneck had never felt anything like that before and it terrified him.

It was something he could not handle.

He knew he screwed up when he left you because of his brother. The way you behaved towards him was unmistakable. Daryl did not want to endanger the little friendship that was still between you. He could not risk losing you for good.

So he gave you your freedom and just adored from a distance - without you noticing.

But from a certain point in time all his thinking was focused only on you. Or rather, to hide what he really felt about you - how much he loved you.

Daryl was so busy hiding the love he felt for you that he did not even notice how much this young woman from Woodbury was constantly flirting with him. Of course, it had not escaped him that she ran after him like a lost puppy; and yes that annoyed him.

But weren't all of these newcomers a pain in the ass?

He was not interested in this blonde woman, not a little bit. Daryl does not care about her; he does not even listen to her most of the time.

If he was honest, he did not even know her name.

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

In the last few weeks, it had become routine for the redneck to be on guard duty in the early hours of the morning. Not just because he was an early riser- and finally got some peace up here from the intrusive people from Woodbury - but because you went to work in the vegetable gardens shortly after sunrise every day.

And from high up there he had the opportunity to watch and admire you unnoticed.

You have always been used to working hard, and everyone who saw you knew that you had no problem with it and that you could lend a hand. Rick once joked that you could overshadow any Amish when it came to your work ethic. You just shrugged your shoulders and replied that you had no problem with that as long as you didn't have to pray for hours.

So you and Daryl spent the mornings together - without your having a clue about it. You, lovingly watching over the plants in the vegetable patches, he on the guard tower, lovingly watching over you.

As the sun rose higher and higher on its way across the sky, it made the sweat shimmer on your skin as you patiently devoted yourself to each of your tasks without taking a break. The black tank top you wore on that hot summer day stuck to your body and framed it perfectly. Your figure was like an hourglass, and each of your curves came out sensually.

At least as far as Daryl could tell. For him you were perfect, just like you were. He could watch you for hours without getting tired of it, could watch you for the rest of his life.

Only when the crotch of his jeans became uncomfortably tight did the redneck look away from you. His thoughts had taken a suggestive course, and the images that emerged in his head were by far no longer suitable for minors. Daryl would surely spend this evening in his fist again - dreaming of how you would feel lying under him, how you would smell, how you would taste, and what sweet noises would come over your lips if he would touch you where you needed it most.

"Everything's okay," he heard a familiar voice next to him.

Damn it, did the time really go that fast? Was his shift already over?

"Are you okay? You seem a little distracted to me."

Carol had come to relieve him. But Daryl, in his fascination for you, had not even noticed her.

"’m okay."

"Yes, of course, and your thoughts were on the task in front of you the whole time."

There was unmistakable amusement in Carol's voice. With a knowing smile, the woman leaned on the railing and watched you work for a while.

"Can you please finally tell Y/N that you love her. So that we can finally all get on with our lives? It's really not nice to see you two walking around each other on eggshells."

Daryl was embarrassed. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar by Carol. Still, he tried to stay as cool as possible.

"I have no idea what ya're talkin’ about."

But the woman was not easily fooled. She knew very well what was going on in the man in front of her. Just as she knew how you felt about him.

"I hear what you say, but your ears say something else.”

Daryl flinched. Sometimes he hated the way his body betrayed him.

“What the hell,” Carol had to keep from laughing “I didn't even know that they could get so red."

"Stop it woman."

Again and again, Carol tried to get her friend to finally confess his love to you. Because in her eyes you were both wasting valuable time. And being able to spend time with loved ones was the most important thing now.

You had not noticed any of this. You were too busy tying up the tomato plants and removing the leaves so that they brought the greatest possible yield. After all, many mouths had to be fed, and you all needed supplies for the coming winter.

And it was precisely these necessary supplies that prompted Rick to ask you to go on a run the next day with others. Of course, you immediately agreed, after all, everyone went on these runs at some point. It wouldn't be your first time, and certainly not your last time, that you would take part in something like this.

But who could say that in these uncertain times?

What you did not know at the time was, that Michelle would be there too. Maybe then you would have refused. But now you sat in the back seat of the pickup truck in silence, staring stubbornly out the window.

Michelle just a few inches away from you.

It had been clear to Maggie from the start that this constellation would not bring any good. However, even the young woman would not have expected what dimensions the whole thing would take. And in what a heartbreaking catastrophe it would end.

During the entire journey Glenn and Maggie tried to break the mood. The four of you sat in the truck and drove a few hours until you finally arrived at your destination.

It should be a simple thing - in and out, quietly, quickly, unseen.

But what no one had expected was the behavior that Michelle had displayed when it came to doing her part. She had absolutely no desire to be actually a part in this job.

And Michelle let the three of you feel that very clearly.

She neither wanted to help find the necessary supplies nor carry them; even found it outrageous that she had been asked by Rick to join in and risk her life. She had never had to do this before, why now?

It took you so much strength to stay calm and not yell your opinion on Michelle's face - or beat her across the street.

You did not like this woman, not a bit. For you, she was a narrow-minded, self-centered, selfish slut who cared about only herself. And what Daryl saw in her was incomprehensible to you.

But when Michelle began to risk all of your lives because of her loud behavior, even Maggie's patience ran out. The eternal insults in your direction were just the cherry on top. Maggie would have liked nothing more than to give this snotty brat a huge slap in the face.

But to make a shitty day even more shitty, that was unfortunately your smallest problem.

Michelle's loud complaints drew the attention of more and more walkers, and at some point, you had difficulties getting back to your car.

You had just successfully cleared a pharmacy when you saw the horde slowly approaching on the street.

That was by far the worst scenario, and your greatest fear.

It was all happening so quickly, and the only thing you thought was that Michelle had to make it back to the Prison alive. You could not risk Daryl losing someone he loved again. No matter what a fucking bitch she was. You knew it would destroy him.

The way back to the pickup was long and the Walkers unfortunately closer than wanted. The heavy backpacks did not make it any easier to escape them quickly. So you stayed back when Maggie, Glenn, and Michelle started running back towards the truck. You knew your partners needed a distraction to make it through.

And what could be a better distraction than you.

"Come to me you damn motherfuckers! Here I am! Come and catch me you bloody bastards! You ugly fuckers!" you screamed on top of your lungs, tried to make as much noise as possible.

The walkers slowly turned to you and came to hunt you down - to kill you. You would be their lunch. Scared to death your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you thought it was about to pop out.

From that point on, you could not remember anything. Your brain just shut down, went into survival mode. You only ran on instinct, no more active thinking.

In a way, like the Walkers you tried to escape from.

Maggie turned when she heard your voice, and the blood froze in her veins. She thought you were right behind her, but you were still near the entrance to the pharmacy and the horde of walkers was on the way to you.

"Y/N!" her voice was desperate.

She was about to turn back to you – to help you - but Glenn could not and would not let that happen.

"Come on Maggie, we have to get the car. We'll come back for her; I promise."

Glenn took his girlfriend's hand and pulled her forcefully with him.

Michelle had not noticed anything of that, she was the first to take a seat in the pickup and firmly locked the passenger door behind her.

When Glenn finally started the engine and Maggie - now in the back seat - turned her eyes back to the pharmacy entrance, you were gone.

Your best friend was in a panic.

"Where is she? Oh my god, where is she?"

Only then did she see you on the canopy of the building - the backpack with the bandages still firmly strapped around you.

"On the roof, Glenn, she's on the roof! We have to get her!" the young woman screamed in desperation.

She could not and did not want to lose her friend. Not now and not like this.

“and preferably before these things figure out how to climb”, was Glenn's addition when he turned the truck and drove towards the pharmacy.

"Are you crazy," squeaked Michelle, "do you want to die just to maybe save her life?"

Maggie's eyes darkened, and Glenn realized immediately that she had now reached the limit. Another word from Michelle and his girlfriend would feed this woman to the Walkers with no trace of guilt.

"You shut up now, bitch! You're to blame for all this shit. If you’d shut your damn mouth and done what we've all done hundreds of times before, none of this would have happened! These fucking things would never have noticed us."

Michelle gasped to give Maggie a neat answer, but Maggie was faster.

"If I hear one more word from you, if you just beep, I'll feed you to these Walkers!"

Michelle's reply was interrupted by the gruesome sound of breaking bones as Glenn brutally drove through the horde of walkers who were now confused and trying to understand what was going on around them.

You were still standing on the roof. Your gaze was focused on the scene before you but not fearful, as if your self was not there at that moment.

"You have to jump," Glenn called to you when he brought the pickup to a stop right under the roof.

And with that you jumped onto the back of the truck. The fall was higher than expected, and there was a thump as you hit the flatbed. Immediately Glenn had accelerated the car again and drove away as fast as he could in the direction of Prison.

Desperate, Maggie kept calling your name, but you just did not answer. Maybe you were in shock. After all, it was not common practice to voluntarily sacrifice oneself as a meal for these monsters.

A few miles out of town, Glenn finally stopped the car, and Maggie was by your side in an instant. But she was not prepared for what she saw. You were passed out and a small pool of blood had formed under your head. The thud she had heard - when you landed - had been your head when it hit the loading wall.

"Oh my God."

Immediately Maggie was at your side, looking for your pulse with trembling hands. And there it was - weak - but she felt it.

"Please open your eyes Y/N/N", the young woman pleaded as she lovingly brushed the hair off your face.

"Maggie?" Glenn's voice was timid, almost frightened, as he stood next to the pickup and stared at your broken body.

"We have to get her to my father as soon as possible!"

Maggie's harsh words seemed to loosen Glenn from his stupor.

"Okay, no problem, I can do that."

And with that Glenn was back behind the wheel and gave full throttle. Maggie stayed with you on the flatbed, took off your backpack and trying to stop the bleeding on your head.

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

Rick and Daryl were in the courtyard of the prison, discussing the next runs when the pickup truck drove through the gates with screeching tires. It was immediately clear to both of them that something bad must have happened.

Without wasting time, the two men ran towards the car.

"What happened", Rick called out.

But Daryl could not hear Glenn’s answer. Everything around him fell silent and vanished when he saw you - bleeding, passed out - in Maggie's arms.

Without thinking further, he jumped on the flatbed and leaned over you. He caressed your pale cheek with trembling fingertips before desperately looking for a pulse on your neck.

Frightened, he held his breath until he felt it, your heartbeat.

Even but so weak.

"We have to take her to my father."

Maggie had not even finished the sentence when Daryl had already taken you in his arms - bridal style - and was on the way to the infirmary with you.

With a lover's desperation, he clung to you as he ran all the way.

“Don't do this to me. I beg ya, please don't die to me."

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

Daryl never left your side for a moment. He sat like a statue and held your hand. He did not say a word, did not move. Neither when Hershel examined you, nor when he sewed your laceration.

He listened quietly to the vet's diagnosis and what he thought might happen in the next few hours or days.

Only when Maggie came with a bowl of water and a cloth to wash off the dirt and blood did he break free.

"Let me …" Daryls voice cracked, and the knot in his throat made it difficult for him to say anything else.

He took everything from Maggie's hand and put it on the little table next to your bed.

The redneck looked broken. The young woman could clearly see how much he loved you. And she knew that if you died, Daryl would vanish. He would just cease to exist.

“I'm so sorry,” Maggie said quietly, and a tear rolled down her cheek, “I thought she was right behind me. But … but she wasn't."

"It's not ya’ fault." Daryl's voice was barely perceptible.

Slowly he dipped the cloth into the warm water and began to carefully wash the blood off your face.

"Daryl I’m ... I’m"

"I know."

“Y/N is strong, she is tough. She will be okay."

Daryl just nodded absently while he concentrated fully on washing the blood off your temple.

And so Maggie left the redneck alone with you in the infirmary.

With trembling hands, he began to clean your neck. Little by little he washed your whole body- took care of you quietly and lovingly- making dirt, blood and sweat disappear, made you as clean as he saw you before you went on that fucking run.

Then he sat there, hour after hour, just looking at you, holding your hand. You looked so fragile. You lay there injured and pale, almost like a corpse. Only your quiet, even breathing told Daryl that you were still with him.

Inside Daryl, everything contracted painfully at the thought that you might not wake up again. Slowly he leaned towards your face. He looked at every birthmark, every wrinkle, every freckle, as if he wanted to burn them into his memory.

“I don't know if ya can hear me,” he finally began with a trembling voice.

“But I ... I ... I “, he had to laugh bitterly.

“’m a bloody coward. Why can' I jus’ say it?"

Daryl took a deep breath, he had to get his fear under control somehow. He had to tell you. He would never forgive himself if he did not do it now.

What if you died.

"I love ya Y/N. 've been in love with ya since ... I actually have no idea how long. But I love ya. I should have told ya much earlier. I don' know why I didn't. But I love ya."

Daryl fought back tears but lost.

"Oh God please, I beg ya, please come back to me. Give me a chance to show ya how much I love ya. Just one chance to prove myself to ya." and with that Daryl collapsed on top of you, crying and sobbing.

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

It took you two days to open your eyes again. Two days in which Daryl had not left your side. Two days of going through hell and back again. In which even he had sent a quick prayer or two towards heaven.

It was as if you had been awakened from a deep sleep far too abruptly. And it took a while before you knew where you were. You felt dizzy and tired. Your head hurt like hell. And you were confused.

First, why you were in the infirmary, and second, why Daryl was sitting next to your bed looking like he had not slept in days – your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispered, "how are ya feelin’?"

"Tired", your voice was scratchy from not using it for a long time, "my head hurts."

“You hit ya head bad. Hershel had to patch ya up."

"What happened?"

"Can't ya remember."

"No ... Yes …. but not ... not really ... only up to a certain point."

You were nervous, were not used to Daryl being so close to you. You did not want to make a fuss about yourself, and yet you liked the attention this man was giving you.

“I can still remember the horde of Walkers who came up to me, but then … nothing ... I can't remember what happened then."

You had not noticed that tears had started to run down your temples until Daryl lovingly wiped them away with his thumb.

"Hey ... shh ... take it easy. Everythin’ is okay. Everyone’s fine. Please don't get upset, ya have a concussion. Hershel says ya need a lot of rest now."

And suddenly you were silent. Never before had Daryl spoken to you with such a loving tone in his voice or had touched you in this way. You did not understand what was happening here.

But he said you had a concussion. Perhaps it was to blame for this filter through which you noticed this whole interaction.

“I'll let Hershel know that ya woke up. I'll be right back; promise."

Confused, you looked after the redneck. Something had happened that you had no idea about. But you did not want to worry about it now. Your head hurt too much, and you just wanted to sleep.

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

When you opened your eyes again, Hershel was sitting in the chair on which you had previously seen Daryl.

"It's nice to see you again with your eyes open Y/N," said the older man with a friendly smile, "you worried us very much."

"‘m sorry. "

"It's okay. How do you feel?"

"Okay. Tired, head hurts."

"Something else?"

"No, except that I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton wool."

Hershel sat and listened to you before nodding.

"Daryl said you can't remember what happened."

"Not really."

"Don't worry, that's nothing unusual with this type of head injury."

He patted your shoulder encouragingly.

"Will I be able to remember one day?"

"You know kid, sometimes it is really good not to be able to remember some things."

"Probably."

“But now you should rest first. I know you have questions, but answers will come later. After all, you have to regain your strength."

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

You knew you had slept, but not for how long. Because the next time you opened your eyes, Carol was sitting on that same chair. But there was something else. Could it be that it smelled of her venison ragout?

"How are you, Y/N/N?"

"Still tired, but the headache is almost gone."

"Good to hear. You gave us all a real scare."

"I'm sorry."

"Especially Daryl. I've never seen him so frightened."

You looked questioningly at the older woman next to you. You were used to it that she kept dropping allusions about Daryl - at least when she talked to you. But you just did not understand that statement at all.

Daryl was never afraid of anything. Why would he ...

"Well. Are you hungry?" Carol had a friendly smile on her face when it broke your train of thought.

At that moment, your stomach made a loud rumbling noise.

“I'll take that as a yes,” smirked the gray-haired woman, “Daryl went hunting so that I could cook this. He knows it’s your favorite."

Unsure you looked at Carol before you took the bowl from her hand and slowly began to eat. It was true, that was your favorite food - if there was such a thing at all in times like this.

"You know that he loves you," she suddenly began out of nowhere

"Of course, we are family," did you try to belittle the matter.

“Okay, let's reformulate the whole thing again. Daryl is in love with you, absolutely and one hundred percent madly in love with you. A 'you're the only one for me' love. Without any misunderstanding."

When she said that, you choked on the stew right away and now you sat in front of her, coughing and snorting.

“And I know you love him too. So don't try to deny it at all. Everyone here knows that. Or how blind do you think we are? Although ... apart from Daryl. He has no idea. He probably wouldn't even understand if it bites his ass.”

At this picture you had to laugh.

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith in order to reach their goal. You two really have to start talking clearly to each other. You two belong together like pepper and salt Do you actually notice how much you waste your precious time? Neither of us knows how much of it is left. You should know that now, because honey it was damn close."

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

Sleeping was your main occupation right now. A concussion took time and a lot of rest to heal. So it wasn't uncommon for your life to consist of short scenes at the moment.

With a sound - like a purring cat - you stretched in the hospital bed before opening your eyes. You no longer had any sense of time, and only the sunlight falling through the barred windows told you that it was probably afternoon.

"Hey."

Only now did you notice that Daryl was with you again.

"Ya feel better?"

"Yes."

Daryl seemed kind of nervous. But that wasn't possible, why should he?

"I've been here before, but ya slept and I don't want to wake ya", his words just gushed out of him.

Could it be? Was he nervous?

"Okay ... yes ... uhm ..."

You were easily overwhelmed with this situation, and somehow your head just seemed to have been swept clean. You could not find any words.

"We take turns. Hershel thinks there should always be someone with ya. Because of the concussion. Rick has already been here, and Maggie of course."

"And Carol."

"Yea."

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For the food. Carol said you went hunting especially for it."

"No problem."

“I still appreciate it. And for ... that you are here ... with me."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

And then there was silence. The conversation with Carol kept going through your head. What she said. Could it really be true?

You knew that Daryl has always been more of a man of action than a man of words. And it was clear to you that if you did not take the first step now, you two would probably never get anywhere.

"Carol spoke to me", you started when you sat up

The man across from you was obviously nervous now. You could tell all too clearly by the fact that he was starting to chew the inside of his cheek.

"With me too."

"Apparently something like an intervention is going on here, could that be", you smiled, trying to loosen up the mood a bit.

"Seems so."

Daryl looked at you for a few moments. You could see the wheels turning in his head.

"I'm a coward, Y/N," he finally began.

You had expected a lot, but not a statement like that.

"No, you’re not. How did you come up with such an idea?"

"I was a complete idiot and too cowardly."

"What are you talking about Daryl."

In your opinion, this was going completely wrong right now. You actually wanted to tell him you loved him, and now it seemed to end in a vortex of self-doubt.

"I love ya, Y/N.”

And with that your thoughts became silent.

“I am terribly in love with ya. And out of fear I didn't say anything. But then I saw ya lying on the flatbed of that fucking truck, covered in blood and passed out. At that moment, my heart stopped. And I swore to myself that when ya're okay again, when ya've got throu’ this, that I'll finally tell ya what I feel for ya. Y/N I love ya. "

During Daryl's monologue you forgot how to breathe and just listened intently while thousands of butterflies fluttered around in your stomach like they're having a bloody party there.

It took you some time to realize that Daryl was waiting for a reaction from you as he gnawed his thumb in fear.

"I love you too," it gushed out of you before you even realized you had said something.

And then there was silence again. You and Daryl just looked at each other. Unsure what to do now. After all, you were both in uncharted waters.

"And ... and now," you asked uncertainly.

"Don't know," Daryl just shrugged.

"I mean ... um ... are ... are we ... together now?"

You carefully ventured out of cover.

"Um, yea ... if ya ... if ya want that."

"Oh my god, yes please", you replied in one breath.

Suddenly the tension between you had dissolved and you both had to laugh. It was so surreal. Two adults acted like teenagers in love who had no idea what to do.

But then Daryl slowly leaned in towards you. Your heart was pounding when you could finally feel his breath on your face. But before your lips touched, he stopped. He wanted to give you the opportunity to evade him if you did not want this.

But you wanted it, wanted it more than anything else in your life. And when you had overcome the last few inches, you finally felt his lips on yours.

The feeling was amazing. As if at that moment an electric shock had run through your whole body, and at the same time it was like coming home.

Everything around you no longer existed, was no longer important. Here and now, it was just you and Daryl. The way his lips moved with yours, how his fingers slowly ran up your arms until they were in your hair.

Everything was so intense. And when you finally parted to take a much-needed breath, Daryl leaned his forehead against yours.

"Ya have no idea how long I've been dreamin’ about this."

"Probably as long as me."

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

When Rick was about to visit Y/N in the early evening hours, he saw Carol and Maggie standing in the door to the infirmary.

"Everything's okay," he wanted to know.

The two women turned around with their index fingers over their lips.

"Shhhh."

Both did at the same time.

"Be quiet and come here," Carol whispered, "you really have to see that."

Rick approached the two women curiously. What could be so interesting that Carol and Maggie were half-hidden behind the door, staring into the infirmary?

He was confused, but when he saw what fascinated them so much, his heart swell. A satisfied smile played on his lips, as he was seeing what was going on less than five paces away.

Daryl was lying - half sitting - on the bed. His back supported on the wall behind him. Y/N was snuggled close to him, head on his chest and her arm wrapped around him. Absently, the fingers of his right hand traced patterns on her upper arm as he read to her from an old paperback.

Everyone could see the love that bound these two people. And thank God the two finally understood that.

"Seems like we finally have a happy ending," said the former deputy with a broad smile.

"Thank God", Maggie exhaled, "nobody wanted to watch this puppy love shit anymore."

“Yes,” laughed Rick, “but you have to admit there was something exciting about the whole thing. As if it had been our very own little soap opera."

"You're right, but I prefer my best friend happy."

"And what do we do now. I mean this seemingly endless heartbreak theater has come obviously to an end."

"Gossip- Rick is afraid he'll get bored?"

Maggie's voice was teasing.

"No, that's not how it was meant."

"Don't worry, Rick," said Carol with a smile, "I think the whole thing has a sequel anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, has someone told Michelle yet?"

All three looked at each other with big eyes before they having to resist laughing convulsively.

This story could get really interesting after all, they agreed.

part two

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

take me by the heart, take me by the hand // Elijah Mikaelson

A/N: An extension of the blurb I wrote on my blurb night a couple of weeks ago!! My taglists are open! If you would like to be added, drop me an ask and I’ll add you!! I hope you all like!

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, soulmates, pining, mutual pining, mentions of food.

Word count: 2.1k

The sun was shining when Elijah Mikaelson began to understand jealousy in its unending torture. He wasn’t used to such an emotion. He wasn’t used to the blind rage that filtered through his body when he caught sight of you laughing with his brother. He wasn’t used to the want that would settle deep within his gut whenever he made you smile, laugh.

He supposed there was a sick juxtaposition in the fact that there he was, a creature of the night, sitting in the sunlight as he watched you laugh along to whatever story Klaus was currently telling.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t felt jealousy before, but Elijah had never experienced it to this extreme where he felt like the villain of a fairytale, desperate to steal the innocent love interest away and keep them for eternity.

“You wrestled a bear!” You gasp, bringing Elijah’s attention back to the room. Your eyes are wide as you hang onto every word of Klaus’ story.

The narrator nods; a smug smile crossing his face as he begins to act out the crux of the story. “We had this newfound strength after we were turned by our mother,” Klaus explains, “And the bear was easily disgruntled, choosing me for its next meal.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, love,” Klaus croons; his smile turning to a smirk as he hears Elijah grit his teeth. “I chose to engage.”

“Why would you choose to do such a thing?” You demand; eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern for Klaus’ ability to make sane decisions. Elijah makes himself turn away; if he could, he would press away the furrow between your brows with a kiss, explaining that his brother was ever the exaggerator as he was an actor.

Klaus shrugs, lounging in his chair with a self-satisfied expression on his face. “Because I could and can,” He answers plainly, catching Elijah’s narrowed gaze from across the room and raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

Elijah doesn’t rise to the bait; doesn’t give himself the chance to. Instead, he leaves the room, feeling your frown on his back with every step he takes away from you.

“Have I done something to offend your brother?” You ask Klaus; your voice small as you stare at the doorway Elijah only walked through moments ago. Elijah had been off with you for weeks; staying in the room with you for limited amounts of time before stalking off to another room. He rarely spoke, but the soft timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine with every word uttered. You couldn’t bear the thought of having offended the man you found yourself attracted to.

“You’ve done nothing, love,” Klaus reassures in a rare moment of affection. “My older brother just has some issues he needs to work out.”

“Oh,” You reply, falling quiet and remaining so for the rest of your time spent with the supernatural family.

----------

“Are you going to explain what is wrong with you, or are you going to stew in your feelings all night?” Klaus demands of his brother as soon as he enters the room, having seen you off only moments ago. The decanter of whisky sits open on the coffee table; one glass out of the two already filled halfway. Klaus helps himself to the other glass, pouring a knuckle’s length of the amber liquid.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Elijah states airily, bringing his glass to his lips. He knew full well that he was jealous; he knew that was distancing himself from you and his sibling, unable to bear the rising envy clawing at his throat. What pains him most is that he can how his distance affects you, how hurt you look when he returns clipped conversations. The furrow between your brows deepens and he feels like a monster for being the cause of it.

“Your behaviour in front of (Y/N),” Klaus explains, doing his best to keep the anger aimed at his brother at bay. “They think they’ve offended you.”

“(Y/N) could never offend me,” Elijah states vehemently.

“You’re going to have to explain that to them.”

“I will eventually,” Elijah sighs, finishing off his drink and quickly refilling it.

“Whatever it is, brother, you can tell me,” Klaus promises in a rare moment of softness.

“That’s the thing, brother,” Elijah begins, “I don’t know what it is. All I know is that I see you two interacting and I lose my mind to jealousy.”

“Ah,” Klaus whispers, a knowing smile on his face as he places his glass on the table. The younger of the two men stands, clapping his brother on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Klaus finds it hard to keep the smile off his face as he wanders the halls of his New Orleans home. His brother had found his soulmate and hadn’t realised it. Their mother had warned them of such magic; the natural magic of the earth that created two souls to be intertwined perfectly. Outwardly, Klaus didn’t put much stock in the belief, but he had seen his mother turn his siblings into monsters cursed with having to walk the night for an eternity. It would make sense for soulmate magic to enter the Mikaelson home once and for all.

Elijah doesn’t stand from the chair; he remains seated for the night, resting his chin on his hand as he tries to get to grip with the feelings roused in your presence. He can no longer deny the attraction he feels for you; can no longer ignore the fact that he would give everything to wake up in a morning with you beside him, but what he cannot explain is the darkness of the jealousy holding him in its grip.

He only leaves the chair when he hears your voice chiming off the stone walls of the compound they call home. Your laughter lightens the atmosphere of the house; bringing joy to a home that was so used to the darkness of Klaus’ moods.

The kitchen is bright with the morning light as Elijah settles at the table; his gaze already fixed on Klaus and yourself. The former grabbing a box of cereal from the cupboard as you help yourself to the fridge for the milk.

It’s as you sit down that he begins to feel it. The sunlight catches you perfectly; your hair practically soaking up its rays as if you were to become the celestial being itself – the brightness radiating out of you with every laugh, every smile, and every animated gesture of your hands as you tell off Klaus for the fifth time already today. Elijah tightens his hand into a fist in an effort to keep the growing possessiveness at bay.

He didn’t know where it began; this dark urge to possess you. All he knew was that the majority of the time, his thoughts revolved around you along with the word ‘mine’ on repeat. The façade of the gentleman, so carefully crafted after a millennia wandering the earth, began to crumble in your presence. Elijah could feel the green eyed monster clawing its way through his body, its claws sinking in deeper with every friendly glance at any man that wasn’t him.

“It comes with finding your soulmate,” Freya announces to her younger brother; the earthy scent of sage blooming around her as she takes a seat next to him. Elijah raises a single eyebrow in question; not in the mood for futile conversation today. Freya represses the urge to roll her eyes as she elaborates, “The jealousy. The irrational anger. The want. It comes with finding your soulmate.”

“Soulmates are a myth,” Elijah counters, finding his gaze drawn to you – watching you talk to Klaus, laughing at one of his calmer moments. The very action has Elijah clenching his fists to keep the anger at bay.

Freya fixes her younger brother with an unimpressed look. “Elijah, you’re one of the oldest vampires in the world, and I’m a witch. We are the myths whispered around campfires.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Elijah wonders in awe. “I never thought I would have one,” He continues in a softer voice, thinking of his past lovers – they had never made his mind race, or his breath stop in his chest, they were never his last thought at night and his first thought in the morning.

You were, however.

Elijah meets the gaze of his wiser, older sister to find her already watching him with a fond smile on her face. “Go speak to (Y/N),” She urges in a soft voice, “Explain everything.”

With the support of his sister, Elijah makes his way to where you sit with Klaus. His younger brother already regaling you with one of his many stories about his past; the darker parts of each tale hidden away this early in the morning. Klaus pauses his tale as Elijah clears his throat. “Could I have a moment of your time?” Elijah asks of you, glancing between Klaus and yourself. Klaus raises an eyebrow but wisely remains quiet.

“Of course,” You murmur, standing from your chair, following the older gentleman to an alcove just down the hall from the kitchen.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour,” Elijah starts when he feels certain that his siblings aren’t listening in, “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way over the past couple of months. I’ve been coming to terms with some personal things and Freya, thankfully, explained the cause of such behaviour this morning.”

“Your apology is accepted, Elijah,” You laugh, smiling happily at the taller gentleman, taking note of how he seems closer to the Elijah you have come to know and love. “What did Freya explain if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind at all,” He answers, “You’re bound to find out eventually.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Elijah!”

Elijah chuckles, smiling down at you indulgently. “I was jealous,” He explains; his face turning thoughtful. “I couldn’t figure out why. Whenever I saw you speaking or laughing with another man like Klaus or Kol, or even Marcellus though I know he’s happy with Rebekah, I was overcome with such intense jealousy that it was hard for me to get control of.”

“You were jealous?” You splutter, “Of what?”

“Of the men you so easily formed friendships with. I wanted to be the one you smiled at, that you laughed with.”

“I thought you hated me,” You confess timidly. “I thought I had broken an ancient vampire protocol and I had offended you.”

“You could never offend me,” Elijah states, “And I could never hate you, it’s rather the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

Elijah nods. “Freya explained to me the existence of a magic I once believed to not exist. I had never seen it; thus I could never state its truth. It wasn’t until Freya explained that the reason behind my jealousy and dark moods was that you are, indeed, my soulmate did I even remember that such a powerful magic exists on this planet.”

“Soulmate,” You breathe, peering up at Elijah through your lashes, “I’m your soulmate?”

“As I am yours,” Elijah swears, stepping that little bit closer to you.

“Vampires… witches… soulmates,” You whisper, unable to comprehend the change in your belief system.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Elijah asks, reaching for your hand. He need to know your feelings on this; should you not want the bond; he would take a step back. It would hurt, but he would do it for your happiness. Should you accept the bond, he would be a man in possession of the greatest living thing on earth – you.

“I’m not upset,” You promise, smiling at the original vampire, tangling your fingers together.

You place your free hand on Elijah’s chest, fully aware that you would not feel a heart beat under your palm. Even through the designer material of his perfectly tailored suit, you can feel the coolness of his skin and whilst many would be repulsed by the lack of warmth, you only feel further attraction for the man in front of you.

Elijah’s hand covers yours; the action speaking louder than any words could. He can feel the life thrumming through your veins; the vitality that punctuates the air with every breath you take. He feels drunk on his feelings for you; at a loss to understand how your paths crossing months ago could lead to a moment like this.

“I want a forever with you,” You whisper boldly, moving your hand to the back of Elijah’s neck.

“Forever and more,” Elijah promises; sealing the spoken vow with an unhurried kiss.

*****

The Originals taglist: @angelxnaa

Special fic tag: @elijahs-wife

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #the originals #the originals fanfiction #elijah mikaelson imagines #the originals fanfic

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

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do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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moxfirefly · 4 years ago

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One tracking the other down at lunch and making them accept food that they personally made because they know the other person doesn’t have a lunch that day. - Not a relationship one, but a headcanon that reader fills the boys' fridge when they can to make sure they're eating well and not just pizza.

I am soft already 🥺

I’m making this in headcanon style as to cover all the lads.

Listen Raph EATS™️

The calorie intake in this man is insane so naturally carbs are like go to

But there’s more to carbs than just pizza and yes sometimes he’s caught up in patrols and training and sleep and it’s easier to inhale six boxes of pizza

Living alone has taught you to make meals for yourself or meal prep but now you find yourself making more portions. Pastas, meats, stews etc

You bring them down while their out patrolling and place them in the fridge with sticky notes for who gets what, the more fatty and high calories ones usually reserved for Raph

He catches you one night though and he’s legit like giddy cause you’re cooking is his fucking favorite and he’s already getting his designated container out and digging in

You can’t help but feel a slight blush cause Raph can be so serious and moody but he is legit stuffing his face with a happy smile and telling you that he loves how you effortless season the meat and tenderize it. He’s just a happy big lad.

Oh god does Donnie need to be fed

This motherfucker has gone days without a proper meal at times

It’s to the point that you’ve set up alarms on his phone to REMIND HIM TO EAT

And not snack, A MEAL

So you’ll drop by with food all the time at all hours of the day. Thankful for those 24hr places or you’re own cooking.

You’ll barge into the lab and announce it’s time to eat and you’ll force him to stop whatever he’s doing so he eats with you.

You make it easier for him by asking him questions about his projects, he likes feeling he isn’t slacking off and talking over his ideas helps him reach answers to questions he might have

Donnie is so hideously smart and you love hearing him talk cause you’ll flex the knowledge he drops on you with your coworkers

One of the things he’s a huge sucker for is sweets so you usually grab dessert for him along with the food. You can’t comprehend where he puts it all cause he’s so lean and when he does sit down to eat his appetite rivals Raph’s

And trust me Donnie secretly loves that you know his tastes so well.

April calls one day to ask what the guys want and without missing a beat you blurt out exactly what Donnie’s order is and you tell her you’ll Venmo her some extra cash to grab him a tiramisu

He feels really fuzzy on the inside when you do that

This lads eating habits are frightening honestly, mostly because he eats combos he creates that you’re sure should either kill a man or at least give them heartburn for six weeks straight

But he is the one that most devours pizzas and can eat it for a week straight if you don’t watch him

Mikey is a great cook though but he likes cooking for everybody ya know? He likes sharing his crazy inventions with his loved ones but he sometimes neglects that on himself and just goes for easy stuff

This is something you plan to change naturally

On the occasions that Mikey is patrolling near your place you’ll text him to swing by and get a snack. You’ll grab his backpack and fill it up with all sorts of snacks from healthy to not so healthy and water because orange crush is not a source of hydration

You also leave him silly notes because you both like to make each other laugh with lame jokes or anecdotes and that makes him excited to swing by during patrols to get his night snack

Mikey likes that you try to present all the food groups. Celery sticks, potato chips, ham sandwiches, an ice cream sandwich, like seriously you spoil him. It’s pretty easy though because Mikey is actually the only one of the brothers who’ll eat ANYTHING. Seriously he’ll try anything and that’s kinda fun cause he’s honest about it.

You know he might get in trouble when he starts to blow off the last couple of hours of patrol to spend it with you eating and laughing. He’s always dropped everything to spend time with his two favorite things: food and you

Leo is pretty on top of his diet. Yes he’ll eat pizza cause it’s a nice comfort food but he does tend to switch away to other things more than Mikey will.

In his case is, he will literally forget to eat

He’ll go ham on his training and patrolling and when he starts feelings a little nauseous and dizzy it’ll hit him that maybe he skipped a meal.

Queue you, you always ask him if he’s eaten. Wether in person, in text or on the phone and if he so much as makes a thinking face or sound you’re already telling him to come by or to sit tight

And something that absolutely and I do mean ABSOLUTELY KILLS HIM is that you can make sushi from scratch and when you show up with three bento boxes all for him, he can almost squeal with joy

Boy loves his sushi, any Oriental cuisine really. Ramen, bibimbap, coconut curry, bubble tea. You like to poke fun at him and arrive with a buffet by announcing “here’s your food you weeb” oh but it’s you who recommends him anime’s and rants to him about storylines etc

You find it really sweet that he’ll share the food you brought him even if you’ve told him twenty times that you already ate

He’s a sneak cause he’ll offer you pieces of sushi while you rant about thing but you do notice that he gives you the nicer pieces.

And you don’t miss that he gives you half his bubble tea

Why he gotta be such a caretaker???

You don’t mind though, you like how happy he is sharing his food with you and he seems to like feeding you.

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years ago

Text

Dan Redemption with a twist

So I'm still geeking out over my ask that @stillebesat answered a few days ago, the one where about an upcoming fic. I've been playing around with a really similar idea, with a redeemed Dan fusing with a clone of Danny, for months now.

Here's my idea:

First of all, my preferred version of Dan is basically Danny but evil. He less fused with Plasmius and more consumed his powers so Dan doesn't have any of Vlad's memories. Next, I'm a big fan of the idea that Dan deeply regrets killing his human half and is, for lack of a better word, haunted by the action. It was the first death of his reign of terror, his final chance to turn back from the dark path he was on and...it was his suicide.

Now, Dan doesn't realize any of this for what feels like centuries. He's trapped in the Fenton thermos in Clockwork's lair, alone with only his thoughts. And the knowledge starts creeping in, all that he'd lost, all that he'd done. He realizes that he misses his friends and family and to his surprise, he hopes his younger self saved them. But then he realized that he tried to kill them. And the guilt starts creeping in. The regret follows and he remembers all the rest of his crimes. He doesn't have enough humanity, enough emotional capacity to be wrecked but he's no longer a rage fueled destructive monster.

Then to Dan's shook, Clockwork releases him without a word. The master of time dumps him in the new timeline, maybe a few months after the events of TUE. To his dim relief, Dan finds that his friends and family are all still alive. He watches them for a while, trying to process where he is and what happened. But then he runs into Danny. And things don't go well. It's a rocky start. Danny does not trust Dan at all. He doesn't trust that the older ghost has no intention of hurting his loved ones. Danny is ready and willing to fight and recapture him. The younger's opinion doesn't change until Dan saves him and Jazz during a ghost attack. The two ghosts, at Jazz's insistence, come to an uneasy impasse. Danny will leave Dan alone if the older ghost leaves him and his family alone. Dan isn't really happy about this arrangement but it's better than being trapped in the thermos again and he does have no intention of hurting his younger counterpart or his loved ones.

So Dan concedes. He stays out of Danny's way. He watches. He catches glimpses of his former friends and family from a distance. And it hurts. Dan feels out of place, disconnected. This isn't his time, isn't his place. He's stuck on the outside looking in... and this timeline already has a Danny, one who didn't make the aggresous mistakes he did. And those mistakes... the guilt's still there but like all other emotions, it's dim and distant. That's how it's been since his death, with every emotion but rage. But still, Dan does not like being on the outside looking in. He needs to do something else with himself, find some place he can belong.

Then Dan remembers Vlad. He had gone to the older half ghost after losing everything. And... Vlad had tried to help him. Separating the then halfa at his request had been a horrible idea but Vlad had been trying. Vlad did care about him. And.... the man must be so lonely now. Lonely like Dan himself is.

It's something of a wim but Dan goes to the older halfa. And at first, it's a surprise to Vlad and then seemingly a dream come true. Here in front of him is a version of Daniel who wants to stay by his side willingly. This Dan is more powerful and experienced than his younger counterpart, though not as experienced as Vlad. The young man is willing to be taught and all he seemingly wants is companionship. Yes, it would be a dream come true except...

Dan will not tolerate any of Vlad's shit. He will not be used to hurt anyone ever again. He will not take part in any of Vlad's schemes against the Fentons. It's a high price to pay but the older man backs off. Vlad is content to not be alone and have a chance to convince Dan to work with him.

So Dan stays with Vlad. With the older man busy with work, Dan has free reign of the mansion for most of the day. In some ways, it's nice. Away from Amity Park, there's no temptation to check on his former loved ones. His longing for a life he can no longer have is diminished. Vlad's mansion provides ample distraction, in the library, the game room, the gardens. But... the days are long and often lonely and the nights... they're even worse. The large building, empty and quiet, it's too much like a time Dan wishes he could forget. The memories are stronger now. After the fiery explosion...weeks of weeping in his room. Somber diners with Vlad where he couldn't force himself to eat. Waking up from another nightmare.

Without his humanity, the grief isn't as soul wrenching as it should be. But it's ever present, the memories on repeat. And there is little to break them up. As a ghost, Dan cannot sleep. He cannot eat. He can't truly feel the sun on his face or the comforting chill of the water on the pool. All physical sensations are dimmed.

And Dan starts to realize, it's excruciating. He feels incomplete, like there's a gapping whole in his chest. The memories of his own death, seen from the outside, return. His own icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain. Red blood spattered on his face. It's horrifying. Or it should be. If Dan could muster up more than the dimmest shadow of the emotion. But he can't, because the part of him that could died 10 years ago. And... this is wrong. He is wrong.

He should have died completely as himself, as Danny Fenton. He shouldn't have watched his death from the outside by his own hands. He shouldn't be this half being that couldn't even be bothered to die properly.

Dan stews, a forgotten anger growing as he longs for something he'd once wanted rid of. His human self, his Fenton, his humanity... he wants it. He wants to be truly, completely himself again. He wants to be whole enough to fade, to move on.

But that is the problem with ghosts, especially one like him. They do not change. They do not move on. As much as Dan acts like he is older, like he is different, he is not. He's the same angry, broken teen that he was ten years ago. And he will never be anything else.

Dan rages, trashing Vlad's training room. Soon enough, his anger is spent and the young man comes back to his senses. Dan huffs in frustration and annoyance at himself. He'd rather enjoyed Vlad's training room and now the man himself will likely be cross with him. Dan does his best to put the room back in order and find something else to do.

But the pain, regret, and longing linger. At some level, Dan thinks he's being ridiculous. All his former loved ones are alive. Dan isn't alone. He has Vlad and the ability to determine his own future. This world wasn't ravaged by his hand. His mistakes have been erased. He should be free. Except...

No, his mistakes are not all erased. His own death returns to his mind over and over. He shouldn't think about, he shouldn't dwell on it but...

One day, Dan goes down to Vlad's secret lab. He knows he shouldn't. This is such a breach of Vlad's trust but... this is were it happened. The young man stares at the metal table. If he was capable of feelings cold, he would shiver. There, where he was pulled out of his body. That wall, he cornered his human half there, the boy cowering in fear. There, that control panel was spattered with his own blood.

Dan wishes he could cry but he's not human enough for that. He's not human at all. But he wishes he was.

Startled by the thought, the full ghost turns away. He shouldn't wish for things he can't have but... no. Dan's eyes flicker around the room, looking for small differences from his memories. Some of the equipment is laid out differently. There are different samples on the shelf and... that door wasn't there before.

Dan walks through and finds... metal and glass chambers in different degrees of construction. A few are filled with ectoplasm and there in the back... if Dan had a heart, it would stop. There in a clear pod with a breathing mask over his face is...Danny Fenton. No, that's not right. This isn't... this isn't his timeline. And his younger counterpart is in Amity Park so....

Dan frantically searches Vlad's computer, his notes for answers. Clones. Vlad had been trying to clone his younger half ghost counterpart. In the tube... clone 3. Fully human. Suffered mental decline from 2 weeks gestation and eventually brain death a month later. Body kept alive by machines since... the week Dan arrived.

Dan wishes he could feel shock. He wishes he could feel relief. From the data, this was the first attempt that even resembled something human. The others were by all measures animals, in no way sentient. And it appears Vlad hasn't continued working since Dan came to live with him. But still...

Dan confronts Vlad, asking about the experiments, about the clone kept on life support.

"I could not bear to pull the plug." Vlad answers, surprisingly sober. "I'd hoped his condition would improve." There is a far away look in his eyes, a longing. "I tried everything I could think of to stop the degradation but..." The older half ghost shook his head. "I'm continuing to monitor 3's status." There was a pain in Vlad voice. "I fear he won't live to see the outside of his chamber."

Vlad was in denial, Dan thinkd. This clone is gone, like his own human half. The heart still beats, the lungs still breath but...

He shock his head. "Before you approach me, I consider...if I could create a viable, ghostly clone and coax the spirit to hybridize with the body..."

The idea was ridiculous and he should be disgusted, hearing all Vlad had done, what he had planned but...

"That is all in the past now." Vlad finished sadly.

All in the past like the loss of his own human half. He shouldn't wish for things that he couldn't have but...

"I'm a viable ghost..." Dan could barely believe the words coming out his mouth. "Not a clone but... I am without a human side."

Vlad is staring at him like he has another head, something which Dan was sure he did not currently have. "Daniel...are you suggesting... what I think you are suggesting?"

Was he? It was ridiculous, impossible. He could not replace his human side by... possessing an animated corpse.

"No. I am not." Dan denied. "Forget I said anything."

Vlad gave a nod, dropping the conversation. But Dan did not forget. This idea... it was wrong. It was impossible. He couldn't be made a half ghost again. But...

The temptation. If anyone could get it to work, it would be Vlad. And if it did...the ghost floats to what had been his bedroom and laid down. If it worked, he could sleep. He could eat. He could go out in public with human. It would necessarily be a replacement for what he'd lost but...

No... this was wrong. This was basically a clone of himself whose body he wanted to steal. But... was it really? This was an empty body, no mind, no soul. It was mad science but... Dan was already the product of mad science.

And if it worked, not as an overshadowing but a hybrization... he could truly age, he could grow passed what happened. And he could feel more than the pale shadows he could now.

The next day, Dan asks Vlad for what he wants.

"Are you sure?" The man asked. "This could have unknown consequences on your body or your mind. You could even destabilize."

That gave Dan pause. This might not work. He might end up in unknown pain or even fade but... "this is worth the risk."

The pair work together, planning and experimenting. They give the body transfusions of Dan's ectoplasm. The younger ghost practices envisioning himself as a halfa again. He prepares himself.

"I will need to reduce you down to your core." Vlafd says solemnly.

Dan places his existence in Vlad's hands. After blowing off seemingly endless amounts of energy in a desolate portion of the Ghost Zone, the older halfa repeatedly shocks him with the Plasmius Maximus. Dan's body pops out of existence, leaving his core exposed.

As just a core, there is no sensation. No input. No output. It's terrifyingly like being in the thermos again. Dan knows he is being moved. Vlad is doing something to him but... there is nothing and too much at the same time.

Dan can not process. He is cradled. There is something beside him, something around him reaching out. Something is changing. He is changing. It is too much. Dan loses consciousness for the first time in ten years. It is not sleep. There is no dream. He can think one moment, separated from the world. And the next...

He is under water. Something is beeping. He feels light but heavy. Cold but warm. His center is fluttering, something straining and pounding. An emotion. Something that might be panic or fear suddenly rises in him, crashing over him as a wave. An equally panicked voice comes from in front of him. Then there's a sting in his neck. Sting? Pain? Pain, it's been so long since he felt pain. And... his neck? He has a neck again. Dan blacks out again.

The young man comes to again. There is still something beeping near his head. He's not under water now but laying on something soft. Soft and warm. Warm....Dan can feel that. His breath hitches. Breath... he feels lungs move on his chest. And...he feel heavy and warm. Something... something happened. He can't remember what...

Dan's eyes flutter open, falling on... Vlad.

The man's eyes met his, relief flashing across them. "Daniel." He sighs. "How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Dan crocks. Is that... is that his voice? "What...what happened?" The ghost (?) thinks he might know. "Did it work?" He whispered.

Dan's voice... his voice is high, like when he was a younger teen. It should feel strange but...

"Take a look." Vlad says, offering him a mirror.

Dan reaches forward with a shaking hand. His hand... it's not gloved, neither is it blue. It's.... he stares. It's a pale peach color like... his hands are smaller and thinner....

"Daniel." Vlad interrupts. "It's alright." He holds the mirror up and...

Dan meets blue eyes. His own blue eyes. Eyes he never thought he'd see again except on someone else. His eyes water as he reaches towards the mirror. "It worked."

His new heart is aching, a thousand emotions hitting him. Joy, happiness, relief, grief, guilt, regret. All of them are bigger, nearer, more real and soul-aching than it's been in years. He should be upset. He looks and sounds like a kid again. But... "I'm alive."

He is alive. And it is a joy. A gift. A promise. He will not waste this second chance.

The newly remade halfa is crying and...it's never felt so good.

#danny phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #i know Dan's grossly ooc here but i do not care.#my post #my ficlet

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce.

Denial isn’t healthy.

But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts.

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

Impulsive decisions never end well.

So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice.

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial.

Maybe I should have been.

The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back.

Terrible choice.

In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it.

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet.

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up.

I had wanted to go back.

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared.

Scared that I was being weak.

That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him.

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away.

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

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not.

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country.

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that someone was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded.

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the door, unlocking it and stepping in.

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. .

I could already feel a headache coming on.

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?” I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket.

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned.

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34, He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo.

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds.

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with a better excuse the next time i ask you out.”

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after.

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?”

i stared at him.

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug.

He frowned.

“The new girl? Why?”

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...”

“I can’t forget about that night.”

I froze.

God.

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off.

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon.

A marathon runner , he didn’t drink or smoke.

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule.

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance.

But , it is what it is.

“That sounds like a you problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be one night with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .”

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little.

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up.

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that”

He chuckled.

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.”

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?”

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised.

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step.

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged.

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded.

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied.

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny.

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?”

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.”

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried.

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently.

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged.

“Or what?”

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.”

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort.

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.”

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.”

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly.

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation.

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “ I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?”

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle.

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.”

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire.

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

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work.

I didn’t have to.

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown.

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung.

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...”

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly.

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly.

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....”

I nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time.

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

I nodded.

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.”

I shrugged.

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.”

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed.

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook”

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there.

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely.

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile.

This is why i hated men.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash.

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly.

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it.

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.”

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled.

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut .

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough.

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly.

They both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook.

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away.

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward.

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually.

I groaned.

“Don’t start.”

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.”

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped.

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness.

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day.

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

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think?

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fics #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person...

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day…

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be.

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #ow ow ow ow ow #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #crap I have to reread this...#in for pain #sorry levi #went a little hard on you there

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Somethin’ Warm to Come To

Pairing: Billy Lee x dark!Fem Reader

Words: ~2.9k

Summary: There’s a new girl in the big house, but you’re Billy’s favorite.

Warnings: DARK!!!!!!!! Explicit language, explicit sexual content (f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, forced voyeurism), violence (implied character death, mentions of killing and butchering animals for food, f to f violence), definite psychological torment, smoking, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: I am definitely going to hell guys, this proves it. Please avoid if you’re one of my soft sweet babies! Thanks so much @sweeterthanthis for giving this a once over to make sure I didn’t go too overboard! Also, I know it’s pretty heavily implied in the movie that Billy’s partners are underage but we’re gonna say everyone here is over eighteen.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!

You hummed softly to yourself as you worked on slicing the vegetables for the stew you were making for dinner.

Heather and Autumn were helping you in the kitchen, the two younger women working on butchering the chicken you had slaughtered earlier as you gave them instructions over your shoulder. Billy was still out, taking care of some problem one of the families on the commune was having, but he’d promised he was going to be back before the sun set.

It was your night, one of the two Billy set aside every week when it was just the two of you, the other women sent to their side cabin while you got lost in each other. You didn’t mind sharing him the rest of the time, but you were his first and his best, the queen of his little kingdom.

You turned to look when the screen door opened and sighed in exasperation when Rose came flowing in, eating an apple that she must have picked from the tree in the yard.

“Hello Rose.” You said, putting the cut up onions in the pot before moving on to the carrots. “Where have you been all morning?”

“Just walking around.” She said with a shrug, perching on a stool as she watched the three of you work. “It’s gorgeous outside.”

“I could’ve sworn I asked you to take care of the laundry.” You murmured, shooting your eyes towards the basket you had set by the back door.

She rolled her eyes at you before tossing the apple core in the bin and standing up to stretch lazily. You could feel the other two women tensing up behind you at her attitude, sensing your anger that the youngest woman seemed oblivious to.

Rose has only been with you a few months, and you were still a little pissed at Billy for bringing her into your delicate little ecosystem. She was lazy and stubborn, but so pretty and Billy just had to have her. At least she was good in bed, a little selfish though.

You’d almost slapped her last week when she refused to help keep the sheriff off Billy’s back when he was over for dinner. You had been buttering that man up for years with Billy’s sweet young wives and she almost blew the whole fucking thing until Autumn stepped up. She’d had the audacity to suggest you take care of him yourself and Billy had to hold you back to keep you from doing something stupid.

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” She said with a light laugh as she slapped the counter rhythmically. “Where’s Billy?”

“Taking care of something with the Hendersons.” You told her, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling at her. “They’ve been having trouble with coyotes getting into their chickens.”

She just snorted as she sauntered into the kitchen, inspecting what you were doing with minimal interest.

“Fine.” She said, hopping up onto the counter next to where you were working. “I think I’m gonna join you guys for dinner tonight.”

You heard Heather let out a gasp behind you and felt her and Autumn go completely still as you continued slicing.

“That’s not up to you.” You seethed as you tossed the carrots into the pot.

“I think Billy will be fine with it.” She said with a wicked grin. “He’s always so happy to see me.”

“Not up to him either.” You growled, stabbing the knife into the cutting board with a vicious thrust as you grabbed a hand towel.

“What, you jealous?” She teased you, kicking her feet lazily. “Not my fault Billy’s getting sick of that dried up snatch.”

You felt a wave of calm wash over you and stared at her for a beat before grabbing the back of her head and slamming it into the corner of the wall.

“Get out.” You said flatly to the other two women who were giving you terrified looks. “Now.”

They scurried out the back door without a second glance as you stood over Rose, who was holding her face and whimpering as she rolled around on the floor. You cocked your head as she tried to crawl away, grabbing her hair and yanking her up as she yelped in pain.

“C’mon sweetheart, let me see that pretty face you’re so proud of.” You cooed, a mocking look of concern on your face as you bent to look into her eyes.

She sniffled as she pulled her hands away from her face slowly. You tutted once you got a look at her, blood streaming over her chin from her nose and mouth.

“Not so pretty any more.” You said with a grin as you straightened back up.

She yelped as you slammed her face into the counter twice more until she finally shut up, dropping her to sag to the floor as you moved back to finish the stew. You frowned when you noticed the spray of blood across the front of your white linen dress but eventually shrugged before setting back to work, ignoring the crimson pool that was spreading across the tiles.

Billy walked through the door two hours later and grinned when he smelled the food. As much as he enjoyed having one of the pretty young things share your bed, he really loved having you all to himself.

“Hey sunflower.” He hummed when he walked into the dining room, wrapping himself around you and pressing his lips to yours as he wrapped his hands in your hair.

“Hey stardust.” You murmured happily against his lips. “I made your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite.” He cooed, rubbing his nose against yours before turning to take in the meal you’d set out. “Oh, what happened?”

Rose was tied to a chair at the opposite end of the table, her face purple and swollen as she cried around her gag. Billy noticed the blood splattered across your dress as you moved to slice the bread and he sank into his chair.

“Rose here wanted to join us this evening.” You said nonchalantly as you served him. “So I decided to make an exception to our alone time.”

“Shit, she mouth off to you baby?” He asked, his palm running over your thigh absentmindedly as he pulled you closer.

“Just a little.” You muttered as you sank into his lap.

“Well fuck, honey.” He purred as you tore off a piece of bread and brought it to his lips. “That’s no good.”

“I know. I fucking told you this would happen.” You hummed as he took a bite of the bread, his hands slowly dragging your skirt up to your hip.

“Yeah, I’m sorry sunflower.” He murmured before nuzzling into your neck. “Dunno why I didn’t listen to you.”

“Mmm, I forgive you stardust.” You moaned as he slid a hand between your thighs. “You really should eat your food though before it gets cold.”

“I’m only hungry for one thing, and it’s always nice and warm for me.”

You laughed lightly as he tossed you onto the table and wrenched your skirt up until it was gathered around your waist. He tossed your knees over his shoulders and started to plant soft kisses on the insides of your thighs.

He burying his face at the apex of your thighs and you moaned as he mouthed hungrily at your sex. You buried your fingers in his chestnut locks as his tongue swirled through your folds and he growled into your core.

“Fuck, Billy.” You whined when he wrapped his arms around your legs and pressed himself even further into you, shaking his head softly to bury his face even deeper in your folds.

You felt him grinning as your pussy clenched against his face, your arousal soaking his mustache and chin as he lapped at your clit. He held your legs open as he thrust his tongue inside you and you let out a wail.

“You taste like heaven, sunflower.” He purred as he gazed up at you through his lashes. “You wanna fuck my face while that little bitch watches?”

“Mm, yes. You know me so well, stardust.” You said, biting your lip and grinning as you peeked over your shoulder at Rose, your smile growing even wider when you saw tears leaking down her cheeks.

You started to grind against Billy’s face as he curled his tongue inside you against that spot that made your toes curl. His fingers pressed into your hips so hard they were going to leave bruises as you fought against his grip to clench your thighs around his head.

“Shit, right there.” You sobbed, your legs quivering with strain as your body went rigid before your release flowed into his mouth.

He groaned as you came around his tongue, your pussy fluttering wildly as you planted your free hand behind you to keep you from collapsing back against the table. You slowly relaxed as you came down, tugging Billy’s hair softly to tilt his head back and grin at him as you watched him run his tongue over his lips slowly.

He stood up between your legs and cupped your cheek as he gazed at you before bending to press his lips to yours softly. You sighed with content as you tasted yourself on his lips, tracing the curve of his mouth with your tongue and sliding his loose shirt down his shoulders.

“Hey! Open your fucking eyes!” He hissed over your shoulder as he snapped his fingers at Rose who had screwed her eyes closed and was trying to turn away. “You wanted to be here, so now you're gonna watch.”

He stepped away from you and prowled towards the opposite end of the table, ignoring the muted pleading that was coming from behind Rose’s gag. You swayed your legs lazily as he started to drag her towards where you were waiting. He slammed the front of the chair down dangerously before slotting himself between your thighs again.

You purred as he slowly undid the buttons on the front of your dress and bent to brush his lips over your collarbone. His hands moved to your waist after he slipped the sleeves down your arms, drawing you closer to him as his mouth traced the column of your throat.

Your hands moved between the two of you as he moved his face to run over your breasts, your fingers working quickly to undo his jeans.

“Fuck, flower.” He groaned as you drew his cock out and wrapped your hand around him, swirling your thumb through the precum that had collected at his tip. “Wanna feel that perfect cunt of yours around me.”

“Yeah? I want to feel that pretty cock of yours split me open, baby.” You teased as you lined him up, reaching out to slap Rose across the face when you saw her closing her eyes again. “Eyes open, bitch.”

He slid into you slowly with a low groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he watched you closely. You mewled softly as you felt him fill you up, your pussy fluttering around him once his hips met yours and you adjusted to his girth.

Your eyes rolled up into your skull as he drew out of you halfway before thrusting forward again, his hips slapping on your thighs as he drove into you roughly. He ducked his head and sucked a bruise below your ear as his arms wrapped around you, on hand trailing up your back to wind through your hair.

The soft sobbing sounds from Rose really spurred the two of you on, Billy’s thrusts becoming more vicious as he let out a feral growl against your throat. You dragged your nails over his back as his tip nudged against your cervix, making your vision white out for a second before you let out a shriek and came around him.

“Fuck, god you feel so fucking good.” He groaned as he followed you when you collapsed back against the table, pressing his chest to yours as he fucked you through it. “Like you were fucking made for my cock.”

“That’s cuz I was, stardust.” You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist and arching your back to meet his thrusts. “We were made for each other, all this other pussy is just icing on the damn cake.”

He grinned before kissing you deeply, hooking his hands under your knees and drawing them up to loop over his shoulders as he sank into you even deeper. You whined as he ground against you, rubbing his pubic bone into your clit and making your breath hitch in your chest.

“So damn beautiful.” He murmured as he watched you fall apart. “Can’t believe this stupid cunt thought she could take your place.”

You bit your lip and your entire body spasmed with the force of your orgasm, your release squirting across Billy’s stomach. He buried his face in your neck and let out a low growl at the feel of your pussy clenching around him.

Your legs unwound from around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out of you, giving you a teasing grin before he flipped you over and slammed back into you. He brushed your hair out of his way and bent to press his lips to the back of your neck as he leaned his chest on your back, sinking his weight on top of you as his cock dragged against your g-spot.

“You close, flower?” He cooed, nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want this bitch to watch me fill you up.”

You turned your head to the side and beamed at Rose as Billy’s cock twitched inside you and his tongue traced the curve of your ear.

“Yeah, I’m real close baby.” You purred, arching your back to meet his hips as he buried his face in your hair.

He wrapped one hand underneath you, snaking his arm between your breasts before pressing his fingers to your throat and giving a gentle squeeze. His other hand brushed your hair from your face softly and cupped your jaw, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip until you sucked it into your mouth with a moan.

You gasped when he suddenly straightened, pulling you up with him as he knelt with one knee on the table and the other foot planted on the floor.

“Do it honey.” He groaned as you nipped at the pad of his thumb. “Wanna feel that pretty pussy cream all over my cock. Show this stupid cow what she thought she could steal from you.”

He sank his teeth into your shoulder and you let out a low moan as your whole body tried to arch off the table. You wrapped your hands around his forearms to anchor yourself as stars exploded behind your eyes, your voice leaving you in a hoarse cry as a wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

You felt Billy swelling inside you, his thrusts starting to become erratic as his own end loomed. He stilled his hips suddenly and groaned in your ear before he was filling you with warmth, his spend coating your satiny walls in thick ropes that started to leak down the insides of your thighs.

“Oh, that’s my good girl.” He cooed, holding you close to him as he relaxed, leaning back on his heel as his lips traced the curve of your neck. “My perfect little sunflower. Love you so much, honey.”

“Mmm, love you too, Billy.” You hummed, sinking back against him as his fingers ran over your skin. “What d’you want me to do with this cunt?”

He pressed his lips against your cheek in a warm kiss before untangling himself from you slowly. You groaned when his softening cock slid out of you, a soft wet sound accompanying it as his seed ran down your thigh in a slow trickle.

Billy stood up and walked towards Rose slowly, frowning as he watched her sob around her gag and fight her bonds. He gripped her chin harshly and turned her face towards him, looking closely at the bruises you’d left all over her pretty face.

“Disgusting.” He spat, releasing his grip on her chin and letting her head sag against her chest as he wiped his cock off on her skirt. “Should’ve been happy with what she had. Get rid of her baby.”

You beamed at him as he prowled to the kitchen to grab a cigarette, ignoring the renewed screaming that was coming from Rose’s mouth. You followed after him, grabbing your carving knife off the counter before heading back to the dining room.

“The west garden bed needs some new fertilizer anyway.” You said, hefting the blade and cocking your head at Rose as she knocked the chair over in an attempt to flee.

“Whatever you want baby.” He murmured, taking a long drag when the screaming finally stopped. “I’ll let you help me pick the next one.”

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paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

Text

pb & m.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 2,749 words

Warnings: Referenced animal death/gore

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Klaus sighs loudly, bringing his foot up to his face with practiced ease. “He’s probably just stewing over his training again,” the boy says, flexing his toes gingerly before blowing on his big toe. You purse your lips at his words, screwing the cap of black nail polish shut, and Klaus looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “It’s Five, [Y/n]. You should see him when you leave for the weekend. Total shut in.”

“But he hasn’t even come down for lunch or supper.” Setting the nail polish down, you tuck your knees up towards your chest, brow furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t usually do that, does he?”

“I dunno. Sometimes!” Klaus exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You know, he talks all the time about what a mess I am, but he’s hardly more functional than me.”

You frown at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t skip meals when I’m gone, do you?”

He waves you off. “Of course not. But that’s not the point. The point is, Five is a broody boy obsessed with his powers, so don’t be surprised if he wants to be alone for a day or a week.”

“He’s not a loner.”

“Well, he tries to be more sociable when you’re here.”

“No.” You pause, resting a cheek on one knee. “I’d still like him even if he wasn’t.”

Klaus just raises his eyebrows, sending another gust of air toward his toes.

The black and red stripes on his nails are settling quite nicely, but the success doesn’t make you as proud as it usually would. You chew your lip and look at the closed door. Normally, during this time in the late evenings, you wouldn’t be surprised if Five blinked through, supposedly to take back something Klaus had snuck from his room or to make sure neither of you “had died” – though you’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to hang out with you and Klaus, since he’d stay a little longer after confirming that you and Klaus were, in fact, still alive. No such visit tonight. In fact, you’ve barely seen him all day.

The thought dampens your mood quite a bit.

The next thing you know, Klaus propels himself to a stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blinking as he stretches and gives you a particular look.

“More like where are you going,” he replies, sighing. He grabs a hold of your wrist and starts tugging. “If you’re going to pine after Five all night, you might as well do something about it. Go … pop in and see what he’s up to.”

Break into Five’s room? Even though it’s tempting, you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the pining part. “You said he wanted to be alone. He might get mad at me.”

“He can’t get mad at you. He’d die of guilt.”

Klaus continues to pull on your arm until you’re sure it’ll come off if you stay on the floor. You give him an imploring look as you stand up, though the thought of checking up on Five is sounding more and more necessary by the second.

“Klaus –”

All the boy does is say your name right back as he throws the door open, nudging you outside into the dimly lit hallway. “Go have your quality time and come back when you’re done.”

“Are you sure –”

“He’ll be ecstatic. Especially if I’m not there.” And with that, Klaus shoos you off with a smile, closing the door.

Now alone, you look down the empty hallway, feeling mildly exposed and hoping that Five doesn’t come down the stairs right at this moment. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to go up there, but … it’d make more sense if Klaus checked up on him, wouldn’t it? No matter how well you get along with Five, he and Klaus are brothers. They know each other a lot better than you probably ever will.

You should get him some food.

Inhaling sharply, you turn on your heel and make your way down the stairs, trying to make much less noise than you usually would – though you doubt anybody would care too much about a squeaking step, travelling through the Hargreeves mansion, especially down to the kitchen at night, still makes you wary of making your presence too big sometimes.

The air gets a bit chillier as you descend the last stretch of stairs leading to the basement, going faster as you get closer to the ground. Strangely, the lights in the kitchen are already on; you skip the last step and hurry through the gaping hole in the wall, curious.

Number Seven looks up from the table as you enter the kitchen, her surprised expression mirroring yours.

“Vanya?” you blurt.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and you look down at the ingredients spread across the table. A jar of peanut butter, a half-finished bag of wonder bread. A bag of marshmallows – the mini ones used for rice krispies. Intrigued, you venture closer. You didn’t know Vanya had a sweet tooth.

(Suddenly, you realize that you don’t know much about her at all.)

“What are you doing down here?” you ask as you approach the table.

She looks at you, still a bit wide-eyed, then looks down at the slice of bread in her hand. “Um,” she starts, then pushes forward, “I was … Five missed dinner and lunch, so I was going to make him something to eat.”

“Really?” You beam, glad that she had the same idea. You could go together. “So was I. Mind if I help?”

For a moment, Vanya hesitates. But then she nods cautiously, smiling a little, and you give a thumbs up and head over to the utensil drawer. Opening it up, you take a moment to try to attract one of the butter knives to your hand, but after it does nothing more than quiver a bit, you sigh and pick it up with a finger.

“Five really likes peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches,” Vanya explains when you walk back to the table. “They’re his favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

You fetch a bread slice from the bag and set it on the cutting board, then, after peeking over at Vanya’s work, scoop up a big glob of peanut butter and slather it onto the bread. She sprinkles some marshmallows on top of hers and squishes another slice on top of the marshmallows. You follow her lead exactly. The minute or two that you spend making the sandwich are all wordless, very unlike when you and Klaus are together, but you find yourself enjoying them either way.

“Maybe we could bring him a drink, too? What do you think?” you ask.

She nods. “There’s apple juice in the fridge.”

—

The presentation isn’t anything fancy, but it gets the job done, and you get the task of carrying the cup of apple juice while Vanya holds onto the sandwiches.

“I hope it’s okay,” Vanya murmurs after she knocks on Five’s door, shifting on her feet.

Even though you’re wondering the same thing, you instinctively nod your head. “Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “We did a good job.”

She looks over at you out of the corner of her eye and manages a small smile in return. Right after that, the door opens.

You immediately feel a bit better upon seeing Five; however, the happiness gives way to concern when you see his expression.

Five looks at the two of you, then at the plate in Vanya’s hands and the cup in yours, before speaking.

“Now’s not a good time.”

His tone isn’t cruel or dismissive. But it is a little dry, and very heavy and tired, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from telling him so.

Vanya’s face falls.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer when both siblings’ gazes move away from the other. “Five,” you say, reaching out to touch Five’s shoulder gently. “Vanya’s been really worried about you. And me, too. We, um, wanted to bring you something to eat.”

The boy glances at Vanya again, who seems to have shrunk a little but still nods, and to your relief, his lips purse. He finally backs away from the door to let the two of you through.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, heading back to his desk. “… But thanks.”

Trailing after Vanya, you inspect Five’s room as you walk in. The walls are already crammed with chalky equations and notes and graphs, none of which you can begin to understand. When you look over at the corner where Five is, you spot the wastebasket next to his desk, filled to the brim with crumpled notebook paper. Klaus was partly right, you think with worry. You’re not completely surprised.

You make your way over to Five and put the cup of apple juice on his desk, right next to the plate of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. “You need to eat to think better,” you plead when he looks at you. “Right, Vanya?”

“I put lots of marshmallows,” she adds. “And I showed [Y/n] how to make one for you too.”

“I might’ve put too much peanut butter,” you mutter, scratching the back of your neck.

“That’s fine.”

You crack your brightest grin. “Famous last words, Five.”

He shrugs and turns back to his work. The two of you wait expectantly, albeit somewhat awkwardly, watching Five stare at his math and the textbook propped up against the wall in front of him. The end of his pen taps against the open pages of his notebook: tap tap tap tap tap. But he doesn’t write. You don’t think he even blinks. Troubled, you share a glance with Vanya; this time, it’s she who nods at you, reassuring.

Finally, Five sighs and puts his pen down. You don’t know if you’re glad or feel bad for it. Maybe both.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vanya ventures to ask.

He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Stay,” he mutters, standing up. He picks up the cup of apple juice and takes a gulp, then grabs the plate and strides across the room to his bed. “Just in case my jaw is glued shut from [Y/n]’s sandwich.”

Vanya suppresses a snort. Your mouth drops open.

“Hey!”

Still, the joke – a Five joke, but a joke nonetheless – brings a cautious but real smile to your face as Five sits on the edge of his bed, taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches. You don’t know which one is yours and which one is Vanya’s. Not that it matters, unless his jaw really does get glued shut because of the peanut butter. You’ll shoulder the blame in that case.

(… Could your jaw get glued shut from peanut butter?)

You gravitate toward the bed as Five eats, sitting down next to him; Vanya lingers by the desk a little longer, and you wave her over.

“Come sit, Vanya.”

She looks between the two of you, then obliges, going over to sit on the other side of Five. She rests her hands on top of the comforter, leaning back on them as Five finishes the first sandwich and starts on the next one.

“We barely saw you after joint training,” you say after a minute or so of watching him polish off one half of the sandwich. Not hungry, he said. His actions definitely say otherwise. “Have you been working all day?”

He gives a brief, affirming grunt.

Taking that as a sign to go on, you swing your legs slightly back and forth. “I missed seeing you,” you say.

You think you see Vanya’s expression shift in your peripheral, but she turns her head before you can make sure. You also think Five stops chewing for a split second, but there shouldn’t be a reason for him to be surprised, so you’re probably just imagining things.

Five is your friend. Of course you’d miss seeing him if he disappeared all day.

In any case, he finally speaks again once there’s just a single piece of crust left; and when he does, his voice is so low that you wonder if he’s talking to himself.

“I had a drawback today.”

Vanya furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Five stares down at the last scrap of crust, picking at a loose crumb. It falls onto the plate. “I could blink with mice on my first try. So Dad wanted me to blink with a dog today.” His voice remains low. “And I …”

For the first time today – and perhaps even this month – you witness Five’s expression crumple just the slightest bit. An uneasy feeling squirms in your chest.

“I botched it.”

“It’s … it’s okay, Five,” you try to comfort, “I’m sure you tried your –”

He shakes his head, cutting you off with a glare. “No,” he snaps, “you don’t get it. I botched it. I blinked with the dog and it turned inside out.”

Vanya’s eyes widen.

Your stomach turns.

So that’s why. Biting your lip, you stare at Five, horrified, trying desperately not to imagine what that had looked like. What that had felt like. Inside out. Sir Hargreeves doesn’t care for animals, you know that, but you didn’t think – you don’t know why you didn’t –

“I’m sorry, Five,” Vanya whispers as you hug Five, her voice shaky. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs blandly, and you tighten your hold, feeling how tense he actually is. “Intentions don’t mean anything if you screw it up in the end.”

He finishes the crust, moving away from your hug to put the plate on his nightstand. Vanya wipes her eyes. When he comes back, you reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for telling us, Five,” you tell him softly.

If Five looked tired before, now he seems utterly drained. But the tension seems to have ebbed. Just a little. And after a few seconds, he squeezes your hand back; well, not really a squeeze, but his fingers tighten, just barely, around yours. He meets your eyes and you smile a small smile.

Vanya gives her brother a brief hug, then stands up. “We should go,” she tells you reluctantly, glancing at the alarm clock. “Dad’s going to check our rooms soon.”

Dammit, you hate curfew. “Yeah, you’re right.” You pull away, not quite liking how cold your hand feels when you let go. Quickly weighing your options, you wrap your arms around Five one last time and give him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up as well. “See you tomorrow, Five. Try to get some sleep?”

He just shrugs, looking at the equations on his wall. Oh. Hopefully, you think as you grab Vanya’s hand and open the door, you didn’t make him too uncomfortable. The door creaks loudly and you cringe.

With one last “goodbye” from the two of you, which he returns in a murmur, you and Vanya hurry out of Five’s room and head quietly down the stairs.

“I hope he feels better,” you whisper, letting go of Vanya’s hand to hold onto the railing.

“I think he does. A little bit, at least.”

You reach the bottom, hesitating before saying what’s on your mind. “Um, Vanya?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know Five really well, right?”

The girl blinks, then smiles a little proudly. “… Oh, well, I guess so.”

“Does Five not like hugs?” you worry. “I just – I kinda do it without thinking, you know, and I think I might’ve made him uncomfortable back there.”

Vanya stares at you openly for a moment, tilting her head. “Not usually,” she eventually responds. Then a corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “But … I think he likes yours.”

“Oh.” That makes you feel better. “That’s good.”

“You should ask him later, though.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Footsteps lighter, you head to your room across from the stairs and twist the doorknob, then stop short. That’s right – Klaus wanted you to come back after you visited Five. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you figure that you’ll need to talk to him tomorrow morning, not wanting extra repetitions for loitering in the hallway. He’ll understand.

Pushing the door open, you look back at Vanya. “’Night, Vanya.”

She smiles, and you feel the warm glow of a newfound camaraderie with the seventh sibling.

“’Night.”

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

Note

109 w santi? please omg i love your work 🥺

A/N: Thank you Anon! I’m really happy you love my writing! It makes me feel really damn good. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + ONLY NSFW (Explicit AF, oral F! Receiving, p in v sex, rough sex, blowjob, light choking, spanking, language, mentions of groping/unwanted advances)

My Masterlist

Pull Over

Santiago was fuming. His hands clenched and unclenched around the leather of the steering wheel. His lip caught between his teeth as he gnawed on it, muttering curses under his breath. You were pissed too, running your hands up and down your jeans, looking at your boyfriend slowly lose his composure as the city lights reflected in his deep brown eyes.

“Santiago,” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, and you feel yourself retreat. His foot slams on the breaks at a red light, and he looks over at you.

“What?” he tosses his hands in the air, “What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me right now?” His tone is stern, and you can feel the tension thick and suffocating in the cab of the truck, his eyes burning holes in you.

“He was fucking asking for it, Santiago!” you shout, and the light turns green, but he just sits there stewing until the car behind you starts honking. It doesn’t phase him, and he continues to stare at you—the car behind coming around and flipping you both the bird.

“I fucking know that! But did you have to break his goddamn nose?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you scoff.

“He groped me at the bar!”

“HE DID WHAT?!” Santiago roars, and you tremble to lean further back against the door. He slams down on the gas and whips the truck around back in the direction of the bar. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Baby,” you beg, “I’m pissed too, but if you go back there and kill him, you’ll go to prison, and you are way too pretty for prison.” The joke does nothing to lessen the tension, and he speeds down the road, blowing through stop signs and one red light. “Santiago,” you whimper, and he slows down his breathing erratic. “Santi, baby, please. Let’s just go home.”

“I’ll drop you off,” he mumbles, and you let out a sharp no. “Querida, if I go home with you, I won’t be gentle. I need to go somewhere and calm the fuck down.”

“Pull over,” his foot hits the break at the next red light, and you go flying forward, bracing your hands on the dashboard.

“If I pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week,” his words aren’t a threat but a promise, and you feel the warmth between your thighs begin to bloom.

“Pull the fuck over, Santiago.” He looks at you and nods before pulling off the main road and heading towards the woods. He drives for another fifteen minutes till the city’s lights begin to fade, and there is nothing but the coo of birds and the leaves rustling in the trees.

The truck comes to a stop, and he gets out of the truck and stalks off into the trees, leaving you to scramble after him. He stops walking about twenty feet in and begins to pace before you hear him let out a loud curse and reach for you. You go to him instantly, and he slams your back against the nearest tree. His mouth going down to suck hard purple bruises into the flesh of your neck, you let out a whimper when you feel his teeth bite down hard, his hands kneading your ass and pushing you into his hard cock.

“Motherfucker, tried to touch my woman,” he mumbles, and you gasp as he rips the front of your dress open and feasts upon your breasts. His teeth are grazing each of your erect nipples in his mouth, tugging them into the hot warmth of his mouth. Your hands entangle in his hair, and your head hits the back of the tree, panting. “I need to fuck you, can I fuck you?” You nod, eyes closed, and he freezes. His hand is coming to your chin and dragging you to look at him. “I need verbal consent, I’m pissed, Querida, but I’m not an animal.”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, Santiago. Erase any trace of that fucker on me, mark me up, I’m yours.” He growls and takes a handful of your panties before the fabric rips, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

“Turn around,” he orders, and you listen facing the tree. His hands come over the swell of your ass and slap it a few times, the echo loud in the quiet forest. “Spread those thighs for me, let me see how wet this sweet cunt is for me.” You feel another gush of warmth between your legs, and you let out a scream as he impales you with three fingers, filing you so full of him it only takes a moment before your cumming. He continues pumping you through it, his teeth leaving bite marks all along your shoulders, marking you.

When you feel the pleasure begin to fade, he slips out and sucks on his fingers; you turn and watch as he licks each one like a child trying to get all the chocolate off the spoon. “You taste so fucking good.” Both his hands come down on the sides of your ass, and he slaps them before kneading it roughly. You hear the sound of his belt coming apart and zipper lowering. The head of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance. He runs it through your slick, and then you hear him lean down and spit into your cunt.

“I’m not going to be gentle, Querida. If you want me to stop, you have to tell me now.” He wraps his hand around your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Wreck me, Santiago, fucking destroy me.” You moan as he shoves inside you to the hilt, his hand moving down to your neck and keeping you looking back at him. His cock is so thick and fills you better than any toy. His pace is punishing, and you feel his fingers dig into your hip so hard you are sure to be littered in bruises. The orgasm builds inside you again, and you struggle against the hand on your throat, his eyes black with lust.

“I’m gonna cum,” you pant, and he smirks down at you.

“I didn’t tell you, you could.” He brings his hand off your hip to furiously rub your clit, and you feel your eyes roll back into your head. “Are you going to cum on my cock Querida?” You mumble incoherently, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Cum, now.” You scream into the night and clench around him tightly, but he never slows down. Your eyes brim with tears, and he releases your neck, and you fall forward, bracing yourself on the tree. The bark sharp against your palms. He uses both hands now and slams into you over and over again, your breasts bouncing in the chilly night air at how hard he is pounding into you.

He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls you up against his chest, biting down hard on your shoulder and licking over it. He fucks up into you and comes down to rub your clit. Going between English and Spanish, he whispers the filthiest things to you, and you feel another orgasm building. “I can feel you tighten around me again. Are you going to cum Querida?”

You nod, and he chuckles, “Beg me, beg me to let you cum and soak my cock.”

“Please,” you whimper, “please let me soak your cock sir, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“Fuck right; you’re my good little girl, cum Querida, soak me.” You scream out again as the waves of pleasure crash over you, and the white dots blind your vision. You clench around him, and he lets out a loud moan, never straying his fingers from your throbbing clit.

“On your knees,” he pulls out, and you drop instantly. “Open your mouth.”

You open your mouth and present your tongue to him. He shoves his cock into your mouth and tightens his hands in your hair again. He devastates your mouth with the force of his thrusts, and you take everything he gives you without complaint. His hand comes to your nose and plugs it. He shoves his cock so far down your throat it hits the back. You gag, and the tears brim your eyes before he pulls out, and you gasp. Only giving you a second before he is fucking into you again.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and you reach between your legs and circle your clit in time with his thrusts. The crescendo of pleasure crashes into you and almost knocks you over. His hands come to your throat, and he cums with a groan down your throat. Cum, hot and thick, trailing down your throat, and you swallow every last drop. “Open your mouth, show me.” You do as he says, and he smiles down at you, “good girl.”

Your knees buckle from the force of your orgasms, your cum pooling beneath you and sliding down your thighs. “Lay back,” he helps you fall gently to the forest floor, your torn dress acting as a barrier between your bare skin and the crunch of fallen leaves. He tucks his cock back into his jeans and drops between your legs spreading them. “Santi,” you groan, reaching for him, and he drops to his forearms in front of your displayed pussy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m reminding you who owns this pussy.” His tongue licks a broad stroke through your folds, and he devours you like an alcoholic, and you’re top-shelf whiskey. He makes you cum two more times on his tongue until you are a shaking mess on the forest floor. Too tired to even stand, he closes your dress the best he can and lifts you into his arms. Your head is coming to lie in the crook of his neck as he walks you back to the truck.

When he reaches your home, he scoops you up from the seat and chuckles at the mess you left on the leather interior, and carries you into the house. He opens the shower and turns on the water getting it warm. He strips you out of your clothes and his and lifts you into the shower. You whimper when the washcloth slides over your oversensitive folds, and he places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, and you shake off his apology. When done, he wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you to bed; sliding under the cool sheets naked, he crawls in next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Are you outraged I broke Tom’s nose?” you whisper, and he holds you tighter.

“No, fucker deserved it. I’m sorry I shouted at you. Why didn’t you tell me he touched you like that? I would have killed him.”

You shake your head, “Because I don’t need you to fight all my battles for me. But I do need you to trust me, trust my judgment.”

“I promise. I will never doubt you again.” You sigh and snuggle closer.

“You better not. But if it leads to hot forest sex, I may be able to forgive you.” He laughs and kisses the top of your head.

“Go to sleep Querida; I love you.”

“Oh, Santi,” you yawn, “I love you more.”

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia @jedi-mando @spider-starry @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @josepedropascal @revolution-starter

#santiago pope garcia #Santiago pope garcia x reader #Female Reader #Oscar Isaac #Triple Frontier #Autumn Writes #Santiago Garcia #triple frontier fic

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years ago

Photo

Mario Kart Double Dash

(Story Post)

Theo and Henderson were both at the former's apartment watching TV when his phone went off. Unfortunately, he'd left it on the kitchen counter and it wasn't easy to move from the couch now that he was 16 weeks pregnant with alien quadruplets. “I got it,” Henderson said getting up to swipe the phone and handed it to Theo. “Merci,” Theo said as he took it and checked the caller ID. He was surprised to see it was Korsy. He answered it. “Hello?” “Theo, you home?” “Yeah.” “Okay, I'm coming up.” “Do you need me to open the balcony door?” “No, I'll take the elevator,” Korsy said. “Just buzz me in?” “Yeah, for sure.”

A few minutes later Korsy was knocking on the door. Henderson let him in. Korsy's usual smirking nature had dissolved into a more frantic and nervous demeanour. He waved to Theo on the couch. “Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” “No. Would it matter?” Theo sighed. “Are you alright, man?” Henderson asked putting a hand on Korsy's shoulder. “You look pale.” “No, I'm fine…” Korsy said, scratching the back of his head. No one was convinced. “Theo, how have you been?” Theo shrugged. “No more morning sickness. Not in a while, anyway…” “Well, that's good!” Korsy said. He patted Henderson's back. “And I imagine you're taking good care of him?” “Doing my best.” He closed the door behind Korsy. “Are you hungry?” “No, no,” Korsy said. “Have you eaten recently?” Henderson added. “Do you have allergies or dietary restrictions?” “I, uh, no, not really and no,” Korsy said. “But I'm not hungry, it's okay.” “Alright.” Henderson went into the kitchen anyway and started heating up a bowl of stew. “Come sit,” Theo said. “Talk to me.” Korsy went over and sat down, although he still didn't seem particularly relaxed. “You need to tell me what's up,” Theo said. “You are clearly upset about something.” “Yeah, well, I, uh…” Korsy took a deep breath. “Um, I have a friend I've been, you know, getting benefits from and we're not serious or anything, but uh…” Henderson came back and placed the bowl of stew in Korsy's hands before going and sitting down himself. “Eat.” “Oh, uh. Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Korsy took a moment to try some of the broth. “This is very good.” “My mother sent it over,” Henderson said. “Tell her she's an incredible chef,” Korsy said. “I will. Now, please continue. What's this about a friend with benefits?” “Right…” Korsy scratched the back of his neck. “We didn't know it was possible, but I might've…gotten him pregnant.” Theo's eyes widened. “Oh my god, really?” “How would you believe it wasn't possible?” Henderson asked. “Is he trans?” “No, he's cis. That's why we didn't think it could happen,” Korsy said. “How did it happen, then?” Theo asked. “Or ‘maybe’ happen.” “It's kinda weird and complicated,” Korsy explained. “But he accidentally ate something he shouldn't have and it gave him a womb and now he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't know what to do.” “Um, what in the world did he eat?” Henderson asked. “Alien made stuff,” Korsy said. “You don't have to worry about it. APID has it now. Probably will study it then destroy it.” “Okay, as long as it's not like some weird new mango or something,” Theo said. “Although, do they have to destroy it?” Henderson said. “I bet some transwomen would love that. Even some cis gay couples trying to have kids.” “Well, they are studying it,” Korsy said. “Too untested and unregulated as it is right now.” “Yeah, that's fair,” Henderson said. “Well, you don't know yet for sure if he's pregnant, right?” Theo said. “It could just be a close call.” “That's what we're hoping,” Korsy said. “But, I just… I don't want this to ruin what we have going on. At first it was just sex, but I feel like we're becoming good friends, like you and me.” “I've met you like three times,” Theo said. “That's a lot for me, to be honest,” Korsy said. “I'm away so much, if I want to make friends, it has to be quick.” “Also fair,” Henderson said. “Well, if you're going to be my friend, you have to understand that you don't leave my house hungry.” “This isn't your house,” Theo argued. “Wherever I am is home,” Henderson stated. “You certainly act like it…” Theo said. “Oh hush, you love that I feed you,” Henderson said, patting Theo’s belly. “Your mom feeds me,” Theo argued as well. “That's only sometimes. I cook for you.” Henderson turned back to their guest. “Korsy, don't you wrap it up?” “I do when there's, you know, a vagina involved. Or if they're not tellurian,” Korsy said. “Otherwise, it's whatever they want. Elves don't get STIs.” Henderson looked to Theo again. “Can you confirm?” “Confirm what?” Theo huffed. “I don't know if elves get STIs!” “No, you two almost boned,” Henderson said. “Did he wrap it up for you?” Theo blushed. “Oh. Uh, yes he did. Can we not talk about that? That was so embarrassing…” “What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Henderson said. “You seduced an elf.” “Hardly, he seduced me,” Theo said. “I am certainly attracted to you,” Korsy admitted. Theo pulled a blanket over his head. “Seriously, this is too much…” “Elves certainly seem to like you as much as you like them,” Korsy said. “Considering how many you keep in company.” Henderson frowned, eyeing Korsy. “You're not still on about me being an elf?” “You're still denying it?” Korsy inquired. “I'm not an elf!” Henderson exclaimed. “The thing is, you are though,” Korsy stated. Henderson threw up his hands. “Fine, prove it then.” “Okay.” Korsy put the bowl of stew on the table, a smug grin crossing his face. “Have you ever been sick?” Henderson shrugged. “No.” “Are your ears very sensitive to touch?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t they all?” “Do you have a hard time growing body hair?” Henderson smirked. “No.” Korsy waved a hand. “That's neither here nor there… You're part human anyway.” “I'm all human,” Henderson stated. “Do you resonate with any one or more elements of nature?” Korsy continued. “For example, animals, water, ores, gemstones, fire, wind, the moon, the sun, the stars, etc.” “Define resonate,” Theo piped in. “Is it like a glow or something?” “No, it's like… Well, for me, I have a good bond with magical animals,” Korsy said. “Anyway, it's hard to explain. It's a really strong pull towards those kinds of things. And them to you.” “I can't think of anything like that,” Henderson said. “What about people?” Theo asked. “Henderson's really good at attracting a crowd. People always want to hear his stories and hang out with him at work and stuff.” “That's called being an extrovert,” Henderson stated rolling his eyes. “I mean some magical creatures have a way with people, but mostly demons and sirens,” Korsy said. “Demons are real?!” Theo gasped. “Oh, yeah. But don't worry about them. You're not surprised about the sirens, though?” “He met a mermaid already,” Henderson said. “At that pregnancy group.” “No, he's my case worker,” Theo said. “Oh, right! Fay!” Korsy recalled. “Yeah, Fay's cool.” “We are way off topic,” Theo re-centred. “Right.” Korsy stood up and held his hands out, palms up. “All these questions don't really matter as much as the physical. Stand up, Mr Neil. Lift your arms.” “This is stupid,” Henderson said but Theo nudged him and he got up reluctantly. “Hurry up.” “I said lift your arms,” Korsy said. “Also, it's easier with your shirt off.” “You're lucky you're cute...” Henderson stripped down to his waist and put his arms up. “What, might I ask, are you looking for?” “Elf mark,” Korsy said. “Don't worry, There's only three possible ones below the belt and they're very unlikely considering already what we know about you, so I'll only look for those ones if I don't find any other one.” “Well, you won’t so I might as well undo my drawstrings…” Henderson stated. “Also, I have a lot of ‘marks'. Even if you think you found something, it's probably my condition.” “Elf marks are very specific. It’s not gonna look like a skin condition.” Korsy took out his phone to cross reference a photo he had from a book he wasn't allowed to read, let alone photograph. He checked under Henderson's armpits first. “Not an aquatic elf...” He turned out both of Henderson’s palms. “Not wood or wild.” “How many are there?” Theo asked. “Uh, several,” Korsy said. “About nine, I think?” He went behind Henderson and sighed. “Darn, not Avariel. That would've been unlikely, but so cool...” “What are Avariel?” Henderson asked. “Winged elves,” Theo said excitedly, pulling himself up off the couch so he could look too. “You do know your stuff,” Korsy said. “Anyway, they're long gone.” Korsy pushed forward Henderson's ears to check behind them. “Not Star or Lythari.” “What's left?” Theo asked. “Just Drow, Sun and Moon,” Korsy said. “I don't think he'd be drow, but we'll check anyway. Pants off.” “Are you serious?” Henderson huffed. “You can keep your panties on,” Korsy shrugged. “Just need a look at the inner thigh and then your butt.” “Let me guess, Moon is on the butt?” Henderson sighed. “…Listen, I don't make this stuff up. It's ancient,” Korsy said. “I can assure you, there's nothing there,” Henderson stated. “How often do you look at your butt?” Korsy asked. “Probably a lot,” Theo said. “He has a nice butt.” “I have a nice butt,” Henderson concurred. “Well, we can check the Sun first if you want,” Korsy said. “Not much hope for that one though, but we'll see.” “Where's that one?” Theo asked. “Sole of the foot,” Korsy said. “My feet are completely vitiligo at this point,” Henderson said. “Even if there was something there, it'd be gone.” “Humour me,” Korsy said. Henderson grimaced, but he sat down and put his foot up on the coffee table. “You better not have a foot fetish or something.” “I'm just taking a look, I'm not taking pictures,” Korsy said. “You didn't say ‘no'.” “I don't have a foot fetish,” Korsy stated. “Frankly, it's the last place I want to look. I'm a butt guy.” He went around the coffee table and picked up Henderson's foot before putting it down. “Hm. Other one.” Henderson switched feet, and then Korsy's eyes lit up. He picked up the other man's foot and wiped at it with his thumb, checking in case what he was seeing was dirt. “What?” Henderson groaned in annoyance. “Ha, you're walking on sunshine, baby!” Korsy said in delight. “You have to be kidding...” Henderson pulled his foot back so he could get up and try to look at his sole. Right on his heel, he saw the little circle of spots with little dots around the outside, mimicking solar flares. “What the hell...” Theo spread his arms. “Oh my god, you're a Sun Elf!” Henderson exhaled in frustration and put his foot down. “I...ugh, this is dumb...” “Sun elves are pretty incredible, I'm not gonna lie,” Korsy said. “I didn't suspect them, but it wasn't impossible. The whole extrovert thing makes sense though. They're very civil and good with magic.” “Are you happy now?” Henderson snapped. “You figured it out. Now what? Do you like me more knowing I'm an elf?” “Whoa, man. Chill,” Korsy said. “It's not like that at all. Just wanted to help you discover something new about yourself. Don't you want to know your background?” “No! I knew my background!” Henderson exclaimed. “I was proud to be what I was! What I knew! People have always tried to tell me that being who and what I am was bad, secondary, unimportant. They wanted me to be something else! But I made myself love me and my skin! I love my black heritage! I don't need to be anything else! Do you understand that?” “I'm not trying to take any of that away from you,” Korsy said. “But, I'm sorry, man, I... I don't know, I thought you'd want to know.” “I've said I didn't want to know,” Henderson reminded. “I don't need you to think for me.” “I'm sorry. I thought...” Korsy didn't know what else to say. “Did you, though? Did you really think?” Henderson asked. “I only let you do this because you're going through some shit right now and you needed a distraction. But this is too far.” Korsy crossed his arms. “Look, man. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't appreciate you insulting me." “Oh, fuck off, honestly,” Henderson said. “I'm done with this.” “You agreed to do this.” “I didn't think you'd actually find anything!” Henderson spat. He went to the door and started pulling on his shoes. “What, you're just leaving?” Theo asked, waddling over. “I'm sorry, Theo. I just gotta go,” Henderson said. “No, this is my fault.” Theo apologised. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged him...” “It's fine, okay?” Henderson said opening the door. “I still... I need to breathe.” “Okay...” “I will call you.” “Okay.” Korsy went to follow Henderson. “Listen, let's just talk about this.” “No. Stay here,” Henderson said, stopping him with his hand. “You and Theo can geek out about elf shit and whatever. I gotta go.” “Alright, dude...” Korsy sighed. “I am sorry. Really.” Henderson backed out and just shut the door. “Shit...” Korsy groaned and went back to the couch. He covered his face. “Fucking hell... Am I just pushing away everyone today?” “It's okay... Henderson will calm down,” Theo said, coming back and sitting down. “I think it's just a lot for him to take in... And you didn't push your friend away. Everyone needs time.” Korsy took his hands away and his eyes were tearing up. “I just... I don't want people to be miserable. Not because of me.” “No one wants that, but honestly, they won't be,” Theo said. “I mean, I've been pretty fucking miserable lately, but I do think I’ll get through this... You'll get through this and so will they. And let me handle Henderson.” “Yeah... I'm really sorry I dropped in out of nowhere and dropped all this drama on you,” Korsy said. “I know you've got a lot going on.” “I've pretty much just accepted this stuff, so there's not actually much for me to do, except just keep sitting on my ass...” Theo said. “In a few weeks, I'm supposed to start growing again though. Not looking forward to that.” “Well, you've got good care and I think you're gonna get through it,” Korsy said. “I appreciate that.” Theo patted Korsy's knee. “And don't apologise for looking for help. What's worrying you most about this situation, though?” Korsy took a deep breath. “My friend... He says he doesn't want to be pregnant, and he bought a pill for it... But, I don’t know, I'm worried he'll change his mind? And I can't...I can't be a dad...” “Boy, do I feel that...” Theo said, rubbing his stomach. “But, I mean, I don't know your friend, but if you feel like he feels the same way, then I don't think you should worry about it.” “Yeah, I trust him,” Korsy said. “It's all I can do... And we're not a couple, and he has a pretty small apartment and he seems more work driven than anything, so I think we're okay, but it's just that little chance that's scaring me.” “Well, you said he might not be pregnant at all,” Theo said. “So, it's like there's three ways it could go, and the majority is in favour of no baby.” “Yeah, you're right...” Korsy closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right. Thanks.” “Listen, feel free to stay over if you want,” Theo said. “There's more food, and we could watch more Mando. To keep your head off of things.” “Yeah, if it's alright... If Henderson comes back though, he probably won't want to see me.” “Don't worry about Henderson. You know, we could play Mario Kart first.” “Yeah, so you can challenge my win streak?” “Last time was a fluke.” “Sure. You're on.”

#lore #Theo #Henderson #Korsy #trans preg #transman #mpreg #mpreg belly

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