#then touched me and my bones broke and i turned into something horrible

[possibly-in-wonderland]

Me: Odin, I ask that you come to me in my dream and help me out.

Odin: best I can do is boiled one and locust

Me: w...what

Odin:

[chixkencxrry]

crazy, crazy for loving you

Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)

MINORS DNI

Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!

When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.

But, God – God, did you wish it was. 

So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 

Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 

Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 

Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 

When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 

“Y/N?”

The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.

“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”

“You don’t have to.”

I died when you did.

“I’m right here, Y/N.”

“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”

A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 

It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 

When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 

“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 

“He tried to make me forget.”

Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”

“If I sleep, I forget him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 

The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”

Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.

For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.

***

Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 

You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.

He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.

It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!

 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 

Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.

His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 

Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”

“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.

“You get that for free.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”

“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.

“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”

That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 

***

You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 

Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 

She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 

You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 

Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 

Foolish boy.

If only he knew what you had in store for him. 

***

Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 

One minute left.

He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 

“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”

When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”

“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.

That made him excited. 

“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”

He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”

You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 

Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 

“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 

Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”

“I’m dandy, princesa.”

A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”

He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 

His patience wore thin but he maintained. 

The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.

“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”

Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”

You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 

He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 

You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 

Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 

His own name. 

“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 

The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.

Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?

***

Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 

You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 

“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”

Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”

“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”

“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.

The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”

He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 

You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”

“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”

That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”

He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 

“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.

He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 

He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. “Tell me this is real.”

Oh.

You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”

His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 

Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 

He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”

He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 

Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 

“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 

“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”

You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?

“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”

His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.

***

Was this heaven?

Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.

“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”

You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”

“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”

He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”

Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”

You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 

When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”

“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 

 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”

Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”

“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”

“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.

You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”

“He was being a little too friendly.” 

“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.

“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”

“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”

You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”

Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 

MASTERLIST

I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.

[juliets-roller-derby-awesomeness]

quick little drabble based on @famkoe's prompt: the chief has reluctantly approved an undercover mission starring lassiter. Lassiter is determend to show how great he is at this. Shawn is Just confused about why lassie Just walked into his favourite gay bar.(shassie)

Sean was two drinks in on the dance floor. His shirt had mysteriously unbuttoned itself and the DJ was halfway through [music]. And the edges of his world were starting to get fuzzy just the way he likes them.

gus had refused to come tonight on account of "there are never any girls at that place"to which Sean pointed out

"Gus, don't be a limp piece of confetti in the morning after a birthday party. that's the point buddy. no girls just men. And some boys. A fair few lads as well. Come on. We see girls all the time. "

unfortunately, Sean had lost that argument, and so it was forced to face the gay club alone. :(. he was working to rectify that situation, settling up to a taller man With an umbrella in his cup, when something caught Sean's eye.

He tilted his head and squinted – inwardly smiling at what Gus's reaction would've been – and focused on the shoes he could just make out from behind a throng of people across the bar.

he recognized those dark brown men's casual loafers from somewhere. Flipping for his memory, he realized they were the same shoes Lassie have been wearing that day at the police station.

Sean abruptly left the conversation he had been half paying attention to holding up a finger in the direction of tight pants. he hurried over to the crowd of people and yes. It was detective Carlton Lassiter.

well, Carlton Lassiter yes. Detective? Sean had never seen a detective wearing nothing but a tight green mesh top and Jean shorts with a bandanna in both back pockets. Lassie's back was pressed up against a bar, overwhelmed by the five men all crowding around him, trying to buy him drinks. Sean grabbed his elbow and said loudly "come on Ted. Let's get you home. " And turn it to the nearest bathroom.

when they reached the men's room shawn pulled carlton through the door as 2 other men stumbled out, far more inebriated that shawn was.

"spencer what the hell are you doing here? i won't have you blowing my cover just because the chief wouldn't put you on the bone street case." lassie hissed at him while checking under the stall doors for eves-droppers

"bone street? blow your cover? lassie i was just dancing when i saw those horrible shoes, i mean, seriously man, who wears boat shoes to a night out? don't answer that i have a better question, how did it work?? those twinks were crawling all over you maybe i should dress like it's my uncle's wedding next time"

"they're not boat shoes spencer they're men's casual shoes. they go with any outfit even..." lassiter looked down and looped a finger around a black and gold string of his shirt "this thing" he finished

shawn looked down at the taller man's shirt, unable to stop staring at the waves of salt and pepper hair tangled in the tight garment

"shawn!" he yelled. shawn looked up, getting the feeling his name had been said several times.

just then a knock came at the door and the two made eye contact, lassiter determined and shawn mischievous.

before the detective could say anything shawn said

"lassie do you trust me?"

"no."

"well, you can't be hiding a gun in those shorts and we're on my turf so just follow my lead" he said quickly as the door handle turned

"i- what? sha-" lassiter spluttered as shawn stood on his tiptoes to meet his lips

as their mouths touched shawn pushed him to the wall, one hand up by his face, pinning him in and the other slipped underneath the waistband of the jean shorts by carlton's hip.

shawn broke the kiss for a split second as the door was opening to hiss "hands on my ass big boy"

carlton complied, not entirely sure if he liked being called a big boy but the zing that went through his body as he awkwardly grabbed shawn's but was undeniable.

through the rushing in his ears lassiter could hear a quiet chuckle from the door way and a man say "i'll just use the ladies' then" before the door closed

expecting shawn to stop he put his hands down, but instead shawn's teeth moved lower to meet his ear. in a moment he would deny later, carlton closed his eyes, waiting for shawn to kiss his neck, but instead shawn whispered in a jovial and seductive tone "by the way, ted, the guy in the with the orange shirt who was trying to buy you a whiskey killed that girl two weeks ago. you might want to bring him in for questioning" before walking out the door and back onto the dance floor, leaving carlton reeling

[heehappi]

Bite Me

❯ Pairings: Heeseung x fem! reader

❯ Genre: Cakeverse AU (please read A/N if you aren't familiar with this AU), smut, yandere.

❯ Word Count: 3.612

❯ Tags: unprotected sex, suggestive, yandere, praising, stalking, slight possessiveness, and manipulation.

❯ Narrative viewpoint: First-person point of view (for Heeseung) and Second-person point of view (for the sexual part)

❯ A/N: I'm sorry for any inaccuracy in grammar as well as writing style because English isn’t my first language.

❯ A brief of Cakeverse: 

“Cakeverse��� is a spin-off of the “Omegaverse”. Similarly to its predecessor, characters in the Cakeverse are divided into three categories: Cakes, Forks, and normal people.

Cake: They are born with delicious fragrances, but they don’t know about it. The only way they find out about their status is through the coincidence of kissing a Fork.

Fork: When reaching a certain age, Forks will lose their sense of taste, only able to feel the taste of Cakes. Fork's basic instinct is eating Cakes, including bones, blood, and meat (NO, TRUST ME I NOT GONNA ADD THEM IN THIS FIC, they sound horrible to me)

The first time I met Y/N, through those innocent eyes, I'd already visualized her figure being pressed aggressively under my body. 

I couldn't help myself from the desire to kiss, bite, and lick every inch of her skin, much as one would suck the fruit filling on a strawberry dessert. I narrowed my eyes at Y/N in the hopes that I hadn’t scared her off. I could smell the fragrance of blood running underneath her skin from this far.  

“You must be sweet like that too, don't you think?”

At that moment, I realized that Y/N had awakened my taste buds. She is my Cake, and this is a fate that none of us can escape.

The first strategy in hunting is gently approaching the prey.

For several days, I observed the small bar where Y/N was singing. She initially went there with her buddies, but after a while, she went herself. She looked abstracted that day, seemed to think about someone, revealed a hint of sadness, and even though it only lasted for a moment, I still clenched my jaw in a fit of jealousy. She should have been on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably until her eyes turned red. I would have applied something like cream on her lower abdomen and licked it off slowly.

Y/N is the most expensive and high-grade Cake in the world, yet nobody can taste her sweetness.

“But that’s not bad at all. Thanks to that, I have more time to put you in my pocket.”

The second strategy in hunting is deceiving, pretending to be pure and innocent to gain the trust of prey.

Y/N was surrounded by a lot of low-level Forks who are so despicable. She only realized that she was a Cake when those bastards couldn’t control their fangs and the repulsive desire in their eyes. She was always sluggish, and it was too late to flee.

When those inferiors were getting closer to her, I kicked them hard from behind. Even though I wanted to delay this fight a little bit, I couldn't bear to witness their dirty hands ruin my dessert. 

I pulled Y/N in my arms tightly. Her eyes were wide with panic, her knuckles became white as she grasped my shoulder to calm her rushing heart.

The distance was so close. I hoped that she wasn’t aware of the sound I made as I gulped saliva. I made an effort to control myself, but her body and soul were so fragrant that they kept triggering my hunger.

A half-deaf Fork rushed over with an empty glass bottle in his hand. I turned around so that he could hit me. As I had hoped for, Y/N witnessed that scenario. She was terror-stricken, looking at me with unbelievable eyes.

My plan was half successful.

The worst disappointment was that Fork's dirty hands had touched my sweet little Cake. I broke his hands and watched him trembling uncontrollably on the ground like a loser. I covered Y/N’s eyes, my palms were wet with her tears. She touched my injured forehead out of worry. She probably didn’t know how fragile she looked at that time: a blush of shyness crept up her face, and her eyes were blurred with tears. She looked like a ripe cherry waiting to be picked. I wanted to bite her lips, but my vision was becoming blurry…

“It’s all right, this is just the beginning.”

After being discharged from the hospital, Y/N accompanied me home. I told her a lie about being homeless. My band and I used to have a good time, but I eventually fell on hard times. My innocent little Cake was always easy to be fooled. All I had to do was stare at her with my bambi eyes. She looked awkward but still soft-hearted at the end. I couldn’t look at her for too long because doing so would arouse my hunger.

The third strategy in hunting is penetrating her life step by step.

Because I had spent a few days with Y/N, I was somewhat aware of the reasons for her earlier unfocused attitude in the bar. She had previously lived with her colleagues, one girl, and one boy. Then there had been some conflicts, so she moved out. I was quite curious about the circumstances, so I looked through a photo album in Y/N's big suitcase. The relationship between her and her ex-roommates seemed so good. Actually, too nice that it was a bit abnormal. Y/N looked at the boy with a sparkle in her eyes.

Perhaps Y/N had been in love with him, but they had cut off contact due to some reason, so her mood was extremely terrible. But in my point of view, it was fate. That’s why I was here, in her house.

I started to live with Y/N. Every morning, I woke up and waited for her to make breakfast for me. Although I had lost my sense of taste, I could feel a little craving when glancing at Y/N, then tried to swallow food. She didn’t know much about cooking, perhaps just begun to learn so she could take care of me. Like a fledgling waiting to be fed, I waited for her to finish her work and go back home every day.

Y/N uncarefully cut her hands while slicing meat. I put her finger in my mouth, her blood tasted sweet, like syrup. I innocently glanced at Y/N. She assumed I was worried about her. She moved her hand backward and comforted me by saying that it didn’t hurt.

When we went to the supermarket, I liked to buy things in pairs such as house slippers, toothbrushes, cups, and even bowls. Y/N clenched her fists and hit my chest as she stared at the long receipt. The last time she had such an upset expression was when I had eaten all the flavors of ice cream in her refrigerator. I liked to tease her and relished her kitten-like anger. I assured her that I would pay her money every month.

I developed a close bond with Y/N that was apart from our Fork-Cake connection. She progressively became open to sharing some stories of her life, how she had experienced loss, how her confidence had faded away, and how her unrequited love had not been returned. I coaxed her by complimenting her unconditionally every time she writes songs for me.

I made up some fairy stories and told Y/N before bedtime every night. She had worked during the day, then she quit her job at the bar to take care of me. People who were too lonely usually don’t have a peaceful night, and my Y/N consistently had trouble sleeping. Every time I completed a fairy tale, she would beg me for more. But I always said that the best would be reserved for later. I was aware that she didn't particularly want to hear those stories. 

Y/N simply did not want to sleep alone.

The fourth strategy in hunting is attacking and grabbing the chance to swallow prey.

When I thought the time was ripe, I feigned to be ill. A slight concussion, according to the doctor, led to vomiting and an appetite loss. Thanks to that dirty Fork with his glass bottle.

I didn’t eat anything. Y/N tried to come up with new foods for me to eat more. She attempted to study a new recipe and used her meager monthly wage to buy cooking supplies.

No more fairy tales at night. I wrapped myself in the blanket and pretended to be extremely exhausted. In spite of the fact that I didn’t eat much during that month and lost a lot of weight, my desire for Y/N outweighed my bodily hunger.

Y/N made a bowl of egg soup, which she had just learned when getting home from work. She ruined numerous eggs before encouraging me to eat by patting my back, like coaxing a child.

- Hee, please eat something.

I didn't take her spoon. Instead, I pulled her closer and gave her my passionate-bambi gaze until she blushed. My little sweet Cake has innocent eyes but at that moment, I just wanted to see them in tears, seeing that she couldn’t help but wrap her legs around my waist. I wanted to devour her.

I was dying of hunger.

I tentatively pressed my lips on hers. Y/N didn’t shy away, then I knew I could start tasting my Cake.

I had waited far too long for this day. When I caught her on the first day, my heart raced faster uncontrollably. My palm was so cold. When I touched her, she trembled slightly like a young bird that had just been wet, and I was her only wind-avoiding nest.

My lips parted from hers. I could hear the sound of her heavy breath, the sound of her blood streaming rapidly. I kissed her forehead softly. That was my devotion to the prey. Those eyes came next. Her eyelashes were shaking. Y/N's eyelids were so thin that I could see the tiny blood vessels beating slightly beneath them. She was too white. Even when Y/N wasn’t shy, her nose tip and eye corners remained rosy.

I believed that a high-grade Cake had to have a gorgeous outlook. It couldn't just be a smooth cream surface; it also needed some decorative strawberries. And Y/N had all of those characteristics. 

Heeseung guided you to sit on his lap, locking your arms around his neck. His hands on your hips eagerly pushed your heat down against his erection, hoping that you would notice his half-hard boner pressing your core. His hands found the hem of your nightgown and slowly took it off. You were too nervous to open your eyes. Heeseung lifted your head by your chin and mildly bit your cheek. He said that it was fluffy like soufflé.

- Naughty girl with no bra huh?

His hands squeezed your boobs, leaving kisses alongside your jaw. He kissed down your neck to your collarbone, pinching and rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple. He took one boob in his hand, rubbing it. His tongue twirled around the bud before sucking your nipple while his other hand rubbed your thigh, slowly reaching your intimate area. 

You moaned like a mess, feeling the sensation build up inside your stomach.

- So fucking cute, moaning like this just because I suck your boobs.

Heeseung blew hot breath on your tits after abusing them. He kissed the area of the underboob, leaving strings of his saliva all over your flesh. Your tits were shiny like being sprinkled with sour cherry Brandy wine. You ran your hands through his hair as he pressed his head more on your chest, inhaling the smell of shower gel that he bought for you. His hand abandoned your ass and started running his thumb around your nipple.

- T..that f..feels good, Hee. 

He smiled.

- Yeah? If you consent to me, I can make you feel even better.

Heeseung looked up and saw the unshed tears glistening in the corners of your eyes. He squeezed your waist to stop your non-stop trembling body. 

- Baby, it will be ok...

- I-I allow you…

Heeseung couldn’t help but grinded his hard cock against your core. He reassured you as he pulled you into a slow kiss, and let you lay down in bed. Your belly must be the most delicate area since there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering inside. Once his lips pressed on it, they seemed to fly out. Heeseung gripped your waist as his teeth pulled your underwear down.

He suddenly remembered the milk pudding he had eaten in childhood. When unwrapping the plastic package, the soft pudding exposed to the air, even bounced up to the amplitude of movement, left memorable ripples. He squeezed your butt cheek and watched the tiny moan coming out of your lips. 

- I'll be gentle. Once you feel uncomfortable, I will stop immediately. 

His fingers traced over your clit, middle and index fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. Heeseung pushed two fingers into you slowly and scissored them to stretch you out. You started clenching around his fingers. It drove him mad with lust when feeling your velvet walls tighten. He had no intention of stopping, added a third finger, and began moving faster, his thumb reaching up to your clit, not until you were begging him.

- P-please, Hee. Please I want more….

Heeseung thought it was really cute whenever he teased you. Maybe he would edge you until you were sobbing and then make you get off with your own fingers. But not now, not this damn moment. 

The sound of him pulling down the zipper of his jeans was loud enough that sent a shiver down your spine. It was nothing, though, to compare with the groan he made as he stroked his cock outside his boxer. You held your breath as you strained to hear him. Heeseung pulled his cock out of his confinement, his cock throbbing against his stomach. He wrapped his fingers around his erection, spreading beads of precum on himself. 

- Wanna feel it? 

He guides your hand down to touch it. You grabbed a hold of his dick, stroking slightly. Only God knew how desperate he was to see this scene. 

- Do you want me to use a condom or not? 

You bit your lip and debated for a minute whether to answer truthfully.

- No, I want to feel you.

- Shit Y/N, you have no idea how much I want to bury my cock inside you, stretch every single inch of you until you writhe under me, beg me to stop.

It was your turn to breathe out weakly, back arching off the bed to reach his dick, wondering if he could feel how wet he was making you.

- I want that as much as you do, Hee.

You lifted your gaze to meet his. His eyes were dark and glazed over with both lust and frustration. Heeseung smirked and raised an eyebrow upward as he guided your legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his lower back to facilitate his penetration. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down over your sopping fold.

- Let’s carve the safe word in your head baby. Chocolate.

Chocolate because there is no more Vanilla.

You nodded, and closed your eyes, waiting for the delicious stretch of his dick pushing into you. Heeseung dragged his cock along your fold and lubricated it with your wetness and his precum before slowly plugging his length down your hole until he bottomed up, making the two of you sigh in relief. A deep groan escaped his lips as he adjusts to the feeling of your hot, wet cunt around him. 

- Fuck, baby. Like fucking made for me.

You gasped and tossed your head back, your hand covered your mouth and your eyes rolled back. Heeseung left sloppy wet kisses on your neck to ease your pain. It took a while for you to adjust his big size. You guys stayed in the position, just feeling each other.

- Hee, you can move now.

He nodded and started to fuck you slowly, before eventually hitting your walls at a perfect angle with an unforgiving pace that has you seeing stars. Your hands ran over his torso, scratching his back deliciously that got him hissed, obviously leaving marks on it. Your back arched high from the mattress, your voice reached that high pitched while Heeseung kept thrusting into you constantly. Your room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Heeseung moved his hand to your belly, feeling the small bulge he made every time his dick was buried inside you. The stimulation was becoming too much, something in your stomach slowly tightening. 

- Heeseung!

His name ripped from your throat when he led one hand down to roll your clit in circular figures.

- I.. I’m about to… to cum.

He sped up and kissed your cheek. 

- Go ahead babe, cum for me. 

You came with a string of moan mess, painting his length with your juice, some getting on his base, some dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. Heeseung was in awe as he watched milky white rings around his cock. He stopped for a second for you to catch your breath.

- Will you cum in me too?

Heeseung cussed under his breath. The way you sounded so innocent while spilling those lascivious words. He panted against your lips.

- You're gonna kill me Y/N. You’re so hot.

- Say it to yourself.

You kiss him one more time before bucking your hip upwards. He chuckled at your flirtatiousness. 

- Yea- gonna put our kids in you. 

Heeseung sank further, cockhead burying itself deep into your cunt with every snap of his hips. He grabbed your jaw to force your gaze onto him.

- You take me so well, so fucking tight for me. Look at my eyes when taking my fat cock, love.

Heeseung angled his hips higher so his tip aggressively reached the right spot that made you see stars. He thrusted hard for the last time before he spurted his white and warm load of seeds inside you. His head falls forward and he takes the opportunity to plant sweet kisses all over your face and cheek. He leaned into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

And at that fucking moment, Heeseung started to lose control over his desire of eating you, like a Fork want to devour his Cake. Finally, his sharp fang coming out wanted to pierce through your seductive neck.

Suddenly, a dagger was placed against his chest. Heeseung gave you a shocked expression. Both of you had not yet fully recovered from the intense orgasm. Your eyes were crimson in the corners, fierce yet also attractive. You spoke to him in a shaky voice that was full of hatred.

- You are a Fork too. You wanted to eat me.

This statement wasn’t a question. You indulged him repeatedly despite the fact that you were quite certain of his motivations and had known it for a very long time.

“No wonder you are my little Cake, Y/N”

Heeseung grinned at you and kissed your hair and eyelashes gently. He grabbed your hand and positioned it an inch to the left, where his heart was there.

- Here, love. Stab here to kill me. Kill me and no one will tell fairy tales to you tomorrow night.

The last step in hunting is a retreat for a longer-lasting relationship with prey.

Y/N's dagger fell to the bed. She covered his eyes and whimpered. In fact, Y/N has been in love with me for a very long time. When I gradually entered her life, she became accustomed to seeing the lights in the house while coming back from work, and paying for the long receipt in the supermarket's checkout,...  In her perception, her house now became warm with a full smell of cooked food, rather than an empty room and midnight takeout.

I replaced the photos of Y/N and her ex-roommate with our photos. 

Y/N started composing songs with happy tunes. When she played piano, they sounded like soft lullabies. I learned those tunes by heart, humming them while I brushed my teeth next to her in the morning. Y/N turned her head excitedly and asked me how I remembered it with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. I said that I could recall all the songs written by her. 

Y/N also no longer took sleep pills. She hid a variety of psychiatric medications under the bed, including red and white tablets that I have no idea what they taste like but must not be delicious. If I had a chance, I would have surreptitiously replaced them with colorful candies. Y/N looked forward to my stories every night because I would lean close to her and pat her back. As long as I was beside her, Y/N could sleep peacefully.

Y/N couldn’t accept my leaving. She would gladly offer me her heart if I asked to devour her. There was a lack of love and safety in her. People were a little friendly to Y/N, she was willing to offer them all of her love and kindness.

Y/N held my face and kissed my lips while pleading with me not to leave her. She was still in tears. Y/N twisted around, shoved me down, and raised her white wrists to my mouth.

- Lee Heeseung, bite me. You can devour me, just please don't go. Don't leave me.

My plan of letting my Cake bring herself to me was achieved. I bit her collarbone and tasted the bleeding skin where my teeth had left their marks before biting somewhere else. My tongue stirred in her mouth, playing with her tongue…

Little tooth marks were highlighted on her white boobs, yet Y/N still insisted on hugging me.

I thought that I would devour Y/N because she was really seductive that challenged my ultimate limit time after time.

But I wouldn't have survived if I had eaten Y/N. We had managed to achieve a symbiotic connection in some way.

Y/N had already fallen asleep. She continued to sob in her dream while encircling my neck with her arms. That pose was very uncomfortable to sleep in. I took her arm, embraced her in my arms, and kissed her forehead.

Good night.

My little Cake.

I will be very thankful to read your feedback so plz don't hesitate to leave it in comment or in anonymous box keke

[crisalidaseason]

Ties with frayed ends

Summary: The table scene from Mikasa's perspective, also, she refuses to see Armin being beaten. Content Warnings: spoilers season 4, slight canon divergence, angst, violence, eren being cruel, some dialogue is taken from the table scene, mean eren, toxic eren, platonic arumika, mikasa loves armin very much, mikasa and eren are SIBLINGS here, strictly siblings, mentions of declining mental health, nightmares, night terrors, insecurities, mentions of blood and broken bones, a little eremin if you squint very hard.

Mikasa was numb, hearing and watching everything as if she was outside or her body. The boy - no, the man - seated on her left was far from the sweet green-eyed brother she grew up with. He had an indifferent face, eyes a dull color with all life drained from it. As the blood ran through the cut on Eren’s hand, staining the table cloth, Mikasa wondered if this stranger deserved the name. 

“I just wanna talk to you” Eren’s voice was just as dead as his eyes, but Mikasa’s ears were too muffled to even register that. 

The Ackerman's feelings were in shock, but her instincts caught the trembling of the young girl across from her. She should have known, should have taken her out of that place. No matter what Eren’s words were, Mikasa could feel her senses burning and screaming that something would go horribly wrong.

“More conflict isn’t necessary to solve eldia’s problems…” Eren continued, and at that point Mikasa was only hoping Armin was paying attention.

She looked at Gabi again, still terrified. Her eyes landed on her brother. It was him. That moment solidified what Mikasa feared to even think about in the dead of night: her brother was turning into someone’s devil, his very name and presence causing fear in young hopefull children. Mikasa felt sick, she remembered all those years, listening to the cries of mothers, fathers, lovers, sons and daughters who mourned the ones claimed by the colossal’s first attack. 

“...attack Marley on your own?...” the familiar voice of Armin sometimes brought the girl back to the present. 

She looked at her friend for the first time since entering that room. Her precious Armin. He had bags under his eyes, a horrible shade of purple that never abandoned him. He was speaking, his voice just as soft -and yet firm- as it always had been. He was always such a comprehensive friend, but also his constant need to understand the full story often sent him into such horrible places. His lips moved, his blond eyebrows frowning. He wanted to understand Eren, he always did. 

“I am free, Armin” Eren’s deep voice finally broke her haze. 

Freedom. She wondered what he meant, if he ever knew freedom at all. 

“My actions are governed by nothing but my free will” he said again, eyes dead, so dead. 

He is lying, lying. The voice inside her said. She knew her brother, he was lying. She knew him, didn’t she? He would not choose to do those horrible things, her brother was not like that. Eren had his fair share of crimes, so did she and Armin and everyone else, but he would never…he would not do all of that on purpose. Eren was not evil, she could not bring herself to accept that. 

Armin spoke again, but she could not hold herself anymore.

“No way” she spoke for the first time, her voice harsher than she would ever speak to him “you’re being manipulated. The Eren I know would never involve civilians and children in a war even if they were enemies”

His eyes were so dull, so dull.

“And you wouldn’t risk our lives either!” she continued “you care about us, don’t you?”

She was not fully aware, but Armin’s hand touched her elbow, slightly trying to pull her down, yet she still stood up. Her mind and body were restless.

“You rescued me from that cabin, you wrapped this scarf around me” she felt her eyes sting, her hands holding the red cloth “you’re a kind-”

“I said keep your hands on the table, Mikasa!” Eren firmly exclaimed.

Silence. Mikasa felt her eyes burn in solidarity to her chest. He was never the most quiet person, neither held his rudeness around her and Armin when his feelings were all over the place, but something about his words, his face, felt different. She sat down, feeling her legs wanting to give up, then she noticed Armin’s touch. 

“Back in Liberio, I spoke with Zeke. Brother to brother”

Brother? Her throat went dry, the stinging in her eyes suddenly running down her body, stopping on her trembling angry hands. Brother. Zeke. A man who Eren never met before, a man who murdered their comrades as if he was playing, a man who was never there when Eren had fevers, never cleaned his cuts and bruises, never comforted him in moments of grief and neither celebrated his moments of joy. Zeke was never there, but she was. How dare he call Zeke brother.

“I don’t-” Armin’s eyes were wide.

A gasp from Armin sent her back into the present. She was succumbing to distractions, she needed to return. 

“If memories play a major role in shaping us into the people we are, then part of you has become Bertholdt” Eren spoke, his green eyes burning on his friend “within you is an enemy who has feelings for another enemy. Do you understand? Bertholdt has gotten into your head, you’re the one being manipulated by the enemy”

He did not. Eren did not say that. Mikasa was torn between shedding tears and breaking something. He had no right to do that, he had no right to poke at Armin’s fears knowing all of those horrible nights in which the blonde screamed after a nightmare. Bertholdt’s memories haunted the blond boy for so long that Mikasa worried that her friend would never recover. 

ººººº

“I feel as if there is someone sharing my mind, my body. And they are so many, Mikasa, so many!” the blue eyes were full of tears, his entire body shaking violently, his voice falling him after waking up screaming. Mikasa could only feel her heart twist at the sight of a nightmare frightened Armin. 

“I’m here” she would say to him, embracing Armin’s shaking figure. 

“Where is he?” Armin would whisper.

“Not here”

ººººº

“Why would you-” Mikasa yelled, her anger was already coming to the surface. She had shown Eren her wrath before whenever he was slightly rude to Armin, and she would not hesitate to put her brother in his place, she would-

“You’re being controlled too” he directed his vile speech at her “the Ackerman clan was designed to be perfect to protect their host.”

Shut up, she wanted to say.

“Your ackerman instincts were dormant until that life or death situation in which you heard me order you to fight. The strength and certainty you felt that moment were awakened because your blood mistook me for the host you were made to protect”

“That can’t be” shut up.

“Why not?” he continued, his eyes burning her this time. Her eyes also burned, the tears were forming. She knew it. 

“It wasn’t a mistake” her voice was failing her “it’s because it was you, it had to be you, you are why I became strong! how could that be a mistake?”

“As an ackerman with awakened powers, you’re apparently supposed to get headaches frequently” Eren ignored her pleaded “Research said it’s the Ackerman trying to resist being forced to protect their host. Sounds familiar?

“You’re wrong” Mikasa wanted to scream, but she could only whisper.

ººººº

“What if I am…just a tool” she confessed on a late night insomnia session with Armin and Eren “What if they’re right?”

The trio was laying on a small bed, Mikasa laying on Armin’s stomach and her feet resting on Eren’s lap. Armin was looking at the ceiling, the thin pillow supporting his neck from the cold wall, he would occasionally put little braids on Mikasa’s hair to occupy his hands. Eren was almost dozing off, he had tried to stay awake with the other two insomniacs but always ended up sleeping. 

“They are not!” Armin said, tugging one of her braids softly “You’re Mikasa and that’s all. You’re my best friend, Sasha’s biggest torment, Captain Levi’s bane. 

“You’re fun, your dry humor is one of the best things whenever dinner is miserable, your also have the best gossip to share and the worst advice” Eren commented, his speech slurring. 

She laughed, rolling her eyes at them. She was horrible comforting people.

“You know what I mean”

“And I also know it’s irrational to think you’re just a mind controlled person” he firmly told her “let’s forget this nonsense, hm? What do you think about stealing something from the kitchens” Armin said, looking at her with his menacing smile, like the little thief he was. 

ººººº

Eren knew how she felt about being diminished as a person, how people were quick to judge her actions and behaviors with no grayscale. He knew how dehumanized she felt and yet there he was, reminding her of the quiet insecurity that haunted her deeply. 

“What I am saying is that you belong to a clan that was created to protect and obey. You are slaves” he almost seemed proud of every word he uttered. 

“Stop, leave her alone!” Armin yelled at Eren, which almost distracted her. Armin was never one to yell unless severely distressed. 

“You wanna know what I hate more in this world?” Eren ignored Armin, eyes still focused on hers “anyone who isn’t free, you are no better than cattle”

“Eren” Armin’s warning tone reached her eyes.

“The mere sight of you has always made me so angry…now I know why. I could not stand seeing a slave with no mind of her own, who always followed orders without question”

Shut up, shut up, shut up! She wanted to scream, punch, hurt him. He had no right to say those things to her, to Armin, to anybody!

“Believe me when I say that, Mikasa” his voice would forever haunt her “ever since I was a kid, I hated you”

Time seemed to stop, the words repeating and reverberating in her head. She searched for a single drop of regret over his words, and she found none. She found dull and dead green eyes, his venom filled voice consuming her heart. Her blood was so loud on her ears that Mikasa almost did not register when Armin lunged himself across the table with a cry of rage. In a matter of seconds, her body acted faster than her mind, and she pinned the blond boy on the table before his fist could collide with Eren’s face. She looked at her hands, at Armin’s blue eyes filled with pain, reflecting her own hurt feelings. 

What have I done, she thought, Why am I protecting him if all he does is hurt us?

Mikasa let go of Armin, looking hatefully at her own traitorous hands. At that point, she had no strength to stop the blonde, she had no right to restrain him after what Eren told him. Eren was no more, the man in front of them was not her brother, her friend. He was a stranger, lost in the threads of her memory. She was tired, she was so tired. Her heart was in so much pain that Mikasa feared it would give up beating.

What have we become?

As soon as Armin’s fist made contact with Eren’s face, she knew this was over. Armin’s burst of anger was the proof she needed, they were not a trio anymore. Eren left them for good, so distant that she would never be able to reach him. Armin was all she had left, and as Mikasa watched Eren pull the blonde by the collar and throw him on the ground…she snapped. If Eren was no more, he would not touch anything precious to her. Never. 

Against her own heart and mind screaming at her, Mikasa jumped over the downturned table and grabbed Eren’s shirt, yanking him back. 

He is your brother!!

Her punch broke his jaw.

He is Armin’s friend, he loves him!

The other punch cracked Eren’s nose. 

He is not lost, we can’t save him!

She cried, screamed. Her tears mixed with the blood pouring from Eren’s nose. If her brother was trying to defend himself, she did not notice it. She kept going, punch after punch. 

Why are you doing this! Stop, Mikasa-

“Stop!!” Armin’s voice took her by surprise “Mikasa, stop!”

She felt Armin’s hands digging into her sides while he tried to lift her from Eren’s middle section. The blonde was not weak as the others said, he had a considerable amount of strength, but Mikasa had monstrous force whenever she was out of her mind, the blond struggled to lift her, resorting to words.

“Mikasa, we need to leave. Now!” He yelled “the others need us!”

She stood up, eyes hyper focused on her bloodied brother. She saw the damage’s result on her hands, still trembling. She had done that, she…she hurt her own brother. 

“Mikasa” Armin pleaded, trying to catch her eyes “we have to go”

Mikasa was breathing heavily, her throat felt like sandpaper, a result of her screams of rage and sorrow that she did not remember uttering, but all the soldiers, Armin, Gabi and Eren himself witnessed. 

“We lost him” Armin’s voice was nothing but a whisper, a pained one.

She finally landed her eyes on her friend. He had a visibly broken nose, which made her cringe at the sight of his face swelling. She hesitated for far too long. 

“We lost him” she whispered back.

Eren’s groans caught her attention again. He was still on the ground, holding his stomach where she most likely kneeled him. He had blood all over his face and staining the floor. Mikasa felt horrible. Everything was wrong. They were supposed to see the ocean together, travel the world together, maybe come back to some peaceful place and live together. They were meant to be three in one. 

But Eren was never within reach.

[whydontyousaeso]

can you please do an Damian Priest X Fem Reader Story (fluff with a little angst),,

They are both WWE Superstar's and also Dating (their relationship is also involved in The Judgment Day) and Reader has match against Zoey Stark and gets injured really badly and she's out of action and alone at their shared home and he's cames back home from an month long tour and reader is missing being together on the road with him and tear up and he comforts her immediately🥺

Home again

Damian preist x fem Reader

Warnings- talk about details of injury(broken arm), small depression rut, none other besides that

Type- Angst that goes into fluff

A/n- hiiii tysm for being my first request ily 🫶🫶 honestly this is a bit more angsty then it is fluff, but I tried my best with the prompt you gave me ! Feel free to send in some more if you like this, love you guys!

This month had been hell for you.

Before you were stuck at home you were on Monday night raw, prepping for a match with your boyfriend, Damian Preist, and Rhea.

As you stretched out you listened to Rhea prep you up, this wasn’t that big of a match, but it would boost your career as a women’s star.

And if you could do that, you could win the royal rumble and take the championship from Iyo.

That was the plan.

That was always the plan.

You and Zoey had been feuding for a while. It started with a small argument between you and her, then spiraled into something bigger and bigger.

You watched on the screen in front of you, Kayla was interviewing her.

“When I get out there, I’m gonna make sure the break every bone in her body!”

Yeah right.

Yeah, right?

You never really took threats like that seriously. After all, if Shayna tried anything or if it got too rough Rhea could just interfere.

You didn’t expect them to actually be serious though.

“You got this mi amor, I love you”

You smiled and kissed Damian on the cheek

“I love you too D!”

The match started out well, you had the upper hand and you were working the crowd well with Rhea.

It wasn’t until she started to try and put you in the arm bar that you noticed something was odd.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

This was weird. She wasn’t even doing it right.

“Hey! What the fuck?!”

It wasn’t until she pulled all the way back and you felt your arm crack that you finally got the answer.

Luckily the ref saw as well, stopping the match instantly.

As soon as the bell rung Rhea was at your side, asking what was wrong and trying to get medical attention to you.

All you could really do was hold your now broken arm and wail in pain.

Eventually medics did come out and they were able to get you on a stretcher and roll you out. And luckily your boyfriend was waiting as soon as you hit backstage.

“Mi amor..”

Even with you being face to face with your boyfriend you couldn’t speak. How pathetic.

Unfortunately he wasn’t able to go with you either because he had tag titles to defend.

How unfortunate

It turned out that Zoey broke both your arm and collarbone. Putting you on the sidelines for a while.

Potentially out of the royal rumble.

So as you sat at your shared home, you had done nothing but sit in this spiral of what could’ve happened instead.

You hadn’t been able to properly shower because of the cast, and what you ate was minimal.

You felt horrible.

And you just wanted your boyfriend.

Oh how you missed your sweet, loving boyfriend.

You were able to call him every night, thank god. But still you just needed him to hold you close to him and tell you that everything was gonna be okay.

Fortunately, he was set to come home soon. But until then it was hell.

You were stuck in your bed all day, not being able to get up, but finally you heard the door open and a bag drop.

“Y/n?”

“I’m in here D”

It took less then 15 seconds for him to run to your bedroom.

You looked up at him and instantly burst into tears, feeling so many emotions jumbled into one small moment.

“Shhhh, it’s okay mi amor, it’s okay”

You melted into his touch, feeling his hands wrap around your cheeks, wiping away every tear that fell down.

“Damian, I missed you so much”

“Shhh I know, I’m right here now, don’t worry baby girl.”

You leaned into his chest, letting yourself feel the way it rose up and fell with every breath.

Suddenly you were at peace again. Your tears slowed down and all the emotions you had that was previously overwhelming you went away.

You closed your eyes and listened to his sweet mumbling, allowing yourself to finally release all the tension that you had built up.

You didn’t care about the rumble

You didn’t care about Zoey

And you didn’t care about the huge ass cast on your arm

You just cared about him.

His voice was smooth and deep, you could tell that he was talking with his chest this time.

Just the way you liked it.

As he heard and felt you had calmed down he helped you sit up better so that you guys were eye to eye.

“Do you feel better cariño?”

You nodded, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

His warm cheek felt good against your cold lips.

He smiled and pulled you closer to him, kissing your neck in the process.

“How about we shower together, that way I can help you and we can both unwind. Then we can order some food and eat together.”

The idea had never sounded better.

Luckily Damian knew how to take care of your hair, and body in general. The shower felt amazing with him, especially since he was able to help in ways you hadn’t been able to due to your injury.

As you sat on your shared bed you smiled, this was how things were supposed to go. You watched Damian come back into the room with some pizza, plopping it right beside you before crawling into the bed.

You started to reach for the box, but Damian stopped you.

“Don’t worry Mami, let me feed you”

You groaned a little

”But Damiannn, you’re tired too!”

“Don’t worry about it cariño, you just focus on being pretty, which is natural for you”

You groaned again, listening to Damian chuckle softly as he pressed a piece of pizza to your lips.

You ended up smiling again though, you wouldn’t have this any other way.

[whumpshaped]

Another overly specific prompt: winged whumpee’s wings get preened for the first time when they fall into caretaker’s hands <3. Bonus points for concerned caretaker and for whumpee being nervous because preening is vulnerable. Yes this is self indulgent, no I’m not sorry. ~🐸

tw winged whumpee, past trauma, mention of broken bones

Whumpee stared at the floor in front of them in flustered silence. They were fidgeting with the little toy Caretaker had given them, specifically so they wouldn't have to focus on the feeling of a relative stranger touching the most vulnerable parts of their body.

It wasn't right. This was supposed to be done by their best friend. By their mate. Everything in their mind and body screamed at them to get away, but they forced themself to stay still and let the stranger help. They needed their wings taken care of after years of neglect.

"I know this isn't ideal. I'm sorry." Caretaker leaned forward, trying to sneak a peek at Whumpee's face. Whumpee instinctively tried to turn away and hide it. "But it's not super horrible, is it? I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."

"It's– It's fine."

Whumpee glanced at Caretaker, tensing up when they saw them frown. Was that not the right thing to say?

"Alright," they said anyway before getting back to work. "But really, tell me if it hurts. They're... not in good condition."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. I'm not mad at you. I'm just... worried. And sad. I wish someone helped you earlier."

"Oh."

Minutes passed in silence again, Caretaker focusing on the task at hand, and Whumpee counting the floorboards. They chastised themself for not being able to relax. If they could've put that horrible, nervous feeling aside, they might've been able to enjoy it even. It was so silly to be so scared of something so harmless. Something that was supposed to help them.

"They broke them," Whumpee blurted out.

"Sorry?"

Whumpee held their breath. They shouldn't talk about it. Not to yet another human. But the urge to explain their reactions was too great. "They t-told me they would help. I thought– I thought they were genuine. And then they broke my wings. Laughed at me. Called me naive."

Whumpee felt Caretaker's hands come to a stop, and then disappear from their wings entirely. "Whumpee... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I... Do I remind you of them?"

They hesitated. "A little," they admitted eventually. "You said the same thing. It was scary. I wanted to run." They held up the fidget toy, then dropped their hand back in their lap again. "They didn't give me anything. They hurt me as soon as I got within arm's reach. So... I thought you might be different."

"I would never hurt you, Whumpee. Not intentionally. I really am trying to help you."

"I know," they said hastily. "I know. I, I understand. It's very kind of you. I'm... I'm just scared."

Caretaker didn't reply for a moment. "Oh, sorry. I was nodding back here. I forgot you couldn't– never mind. I forgot you couldn't see me." Whumpee smiled a little. "I, um, I get that. The anxiety." Another pause. "I hope it gets better."

It was Whumpee's turn to nod. They appreciated the sentiment, but they had a horrible feeling that it wasn't entirely dependent on them, or even Caretaker. It would get better, if they managed to avoid humans in the future.

Well, at least mean ones.

"Can I continue?" Caretaker asked gently.

"Um, y-yeah. Yeah."

"Okay." The hands returned, but this time, Whumpee felt like they could be more at ease. "Just tell me to stop at any time, and we'll take a break." Whumpee hummed in agreement.

Maybe it would be okay.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 16

@whumptober Some Steve and Robin goodness for this one! <3

Teen & Up - Gen - Stranger Things

It's Never Over, and We're Stuck Here Waiting

     Steve stared out the window, gaze distant as he absentmindedly clicked a pen over and over again. It felt as though the world around him was dimming into red-tinged grey, and he could almost see the ash falling outside the window while vines crawled over the brickwork of the building across the street. Something squeaked, but the sound mutated in his mind, becoming a screech that filled the sky a million times over.

     “Breathe, Steve. Everything’s okay.” The gentle voice broke through with a touch to his shoulder, and Steve shuddered.

     He blinked out of the waking nightmare, finding himself breathing too fast and hard as his panic wound down. He followed the hand on his shoulder back to Robin, and he followed her guidance as she gestured for him to take a deep breath in and let it go.

     “There you go. You were doing it again, Steve, that’s all. It’s over, remember?” Robin said, offering him a small smile.

     I know. That’s what Steve always said in response. It’s over this time, I know. A reassurance to them both.

     “It doesn’t feel over.” Steve breathed out in a rush, breaking their routine as his thoughts all spilled out, rambling in a fashion that spoke to just how much time he spent with Robin. “It’s never felt over. I feel like we’re just waiting for the next gate to open or for Vecna to somehow be alive. It feels like there’s a demogorgan breathing down my neck when I try to sleep, and sometimes I can’t breathe, and it feels like that demobat is choking me again.” Tears were falling down his cheeks, and Robin opened her mouth to speak, but Steve didn’t let her get a word in as he continued. “Sometimes when I argue with my dad, he yells, and I’ll think I’m right back with the Russians. I can’t stand needles anymore, like I can’t even look at them, and sometimes it makes me feel like I’m broken because I was never scared of them before.

     “And I hate guns, even the ones Nancy keeps because she nearly shot me once, and sometimes I still get nightmares where she shoots me for real, and I can’t even look her in the face after it happens because it’s so awful to think that she could possibly do that, you know? Because I know Nance, and she’d never hurt me like that, so that must make me a terrible person, right? To think something like that about someone I love? Even El scares me sometimes because she has powers just like his. And that’s terrible of me, too, because El doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, but sometimes I just can’t help but think that power could control her one day instead of the other way around.

     “Then sometimes I think I’m a horrible person because Eddie died, and it should have been me, you know? He was supposed to be safe with Dustin, and we were the ones meant to fight, and yet Eddie’s gone, not us, not me. But it makes me happy that it wasn’t us, even though I know that’s selfish because I don’t think I could handle losing you.” Steve finally stopped for air, breathing hard as he was pulled into a hug from Robin, his tears coming faster as he hugged her back.

     “Steve. You’re not a terrible person for any of that.” Robin murmured. “And you’re not broken, either.” She said as Steve melted against her, exhausted.

     “I’m so tired, Robs.” He sniffled. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore.”

     “I know. I don’t either.” Robin said, pulling away slowly. “Come on,” She said, tugging him out from behind the counter and moving to turn the lock on the door and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ “Let’s lie down and just forget about the world for a bit, okay?”

     Steve blinked at her before nodding, settling onto the floor with her and lying down by her side. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes to the lights that suddenly reminded him of the mall. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in Lover’s Lake again.”

     "Sometimes, I feel like I'm back with the Russians, just waiting for what comes next with no control over it," Robin said, and Steve relaxed a little at her understanding and acceptance.

     They let the silence fall over them for a bit, and Steve reached for Robin's hand, interlocking their fingers.

     "You're not going to lose me, dingus," Robin whispered, running her thumb over the back of his knuckles as she read his mind.

     "You can't promise that," Steve whispered back, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

     "Just watch me," Robin answered, determination filling her voice and warming Steve's chest with fondness.

     He opened his eyes and turned to face her. "Just promise me you won't go where I can't follow." He said softly, squeezing her hand.

     Robin's face softened, and she nodded, smiling crookedly back at him. "I promise. We're soulmates, remember? Not even the afterlife can split us apart." She told him, returning the pressure of his grip.

     Steve finally smiled, closing his eyes. "Love you, Robs."

     He didn't have to see her to hear the affection in her voice. "Love you too, Steve."

[whumpqin]

Desperation

HELLO IT'S BEEN OVER 2 YEARS SINCE THE LAST ACTUAL CHAPTER! I hope you have all been doing great! <3 This chapter is a bit out of chronological order (and based on a prompt) but the more I wrote it the more I realized that it had some important plot details so here we are lmao

Link to Masterlist (I'm going to be redoing my taglist. If you want to be added please let me know!)

Characters: Elisha (Caleb) (POV), Aridai

TW: Sadistic/Creepy/Intimate whumper, nonhuman whumpee, pet whump, conditioning, brainwashing, blood, hallucinations, begging, pressing on wounds, brief noncon reference, reference to eye removal, reference to broken bones / broken bones, reference to torture / whipping / beatings, broken whumpee, fucked up thinking in general, kneeling on concrete, knives (there might be more that I forgot, just let me know)

Word Count: 1,974

Based partly on this prompt also:

He barely moved when the basement door slammed open, or when calm footsteps descended the stairs. He kept his eye firmly fixed to the basement wall, back turned to the exit, to the escape that he wasn’t allowed to have, and stared at the blood on the wall, dried up and stained from multitudes of sprays.

“Good morning, Elisha,” That saccharine voice said. Full of cheer and a good night’s rest.

All of the aches on his body stung anew as if salt had been pressed onto them. Bitter and merciless, and all Elisha could do was count a simple mantra of one, two, three, four, five, counting his slow breaths while he tried to remind himself that he could still breathe. His arms and legs were unable to move, they were traitors, and refused to listen to him. One too many shocks and they’d gone as limp as if he’d fallen asleep. But sleep was the one gift they refused to give him. He hadn’t earned permission.

“Are we not going to answer today?” Elisha’s Master hummed. Footsteps drew closer. Something cool prodded against his shoulder, digging hard into the deep whip marks against his back, forcing a weak keen from deep within him. “There you are. What’s the matter, pet? Don’t feel like answering to the name you think you have?”

That cool metal dug into his back, pulling at the dried blood on it and ripping open the wounds. Elisha couldn’t help but to jerk, mouth parting in a weak cry as short gasps of pain stretched his bruised and broken ribs. Despite so desperately not wanting to, pitiful sobs welled up in his throat and they had the gall to spill out at his Master’s command.

Please don’t cry, Elisha thought to himself, trying to will the tears to dry and his horrible sounds to shut up. Just let them get bored. Let them walk away.

He tried his best to curl inwards. Legs and tail coiling in on his sensitive torso, hands sliding across stone to cover his head. All Elisha could do was twitch as something prodded him, unable to even lift his head.

“Get up,” Aridai commanded coldly. 

Just leave me alone, he couldn’t help to think, unable to will the words out. They’d probably come out chopped up anyways. He’d probably get hurt for that, too. 

Another prod, this time further down his side. It forced a gasp from him while fresh tears slid down his face. A hair’s breadth to the side and it would have jostled one of the ribs they broke a few days ago, when Jeremiah slammed his boots into his side for trying to get up when he wasn’t told. Elisha couldn’t imagine what Aridai would do to him if he couldn’t.

Long, red hair brushed against his shoulder as his Master leaned down, lips just barely touching the shell of his ear. “You get the fuck up, Elisha, or I’ll give you a damn good reason why you can’t. I’m not in the mood for games today.”

It was no different than any threat they’d said before. But even a reminder not to fuck up still had his mind racing for what they could possibly do to him like this. Were they going to kill him? Would it be slow? Please, god, don’t let it be slow. Elisha had a hard time wondering what would be worse. He never wanted to die slowly, like a withering plant left too long without water. He was sensitive and it would be so pitiful that even angels might not bear to look at him.

Elisha forced his eyes shut to try and gather the bits of his mind still present. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to be strong enough to get the fuck up just like Aridai had told him to. He was a good boy, and he could be so, so good for them. Maybe he’d even get a treat of water or food scraps.

As fingers began to dance against his bare thigh, walking themselves teasingly down his leg while metal rang against the floor of the basement, Elisha slid his hand over to his head. He curled in his fingers a bit while he forced his leg to rotate to allow his pads to touch the cold stone he lay upon. Claws from his hand and foot dug small, indiscernible grooves into the floor as he pushed, willing all of his might into raising up to his knees. Elisha wasn’t sure if he could stand, and he hoped his knees would be good enough.

“There we are. There’s my good boy,” he heard the low rumble of his Sir in his ear, the touch of Jeremiah’s gentle hands across his shoulders that didn’t hurt.

Once he was up to his hands and knees Elisha looked up to see only Aridai. Only his Master. They watched him with that cold expression, and narrowed their eyes when he paused.

“Keep going, devil,” they hissed. Elisha cringed at their sharp tone.

He did his best to distribute his weight so the stone did not hurt his knees so much, but all he could feel was pain. Hot and angry pain that gripped him tight like barbed wire. Elisha could taste dirt in his mouth, wet with iron and tears. And god he ached, his entire side was so numb it hurt, and his back cracked painfully as he finally sat upright like he was supposed to. He looked up to his Master with a terribly sad look, begging without any words on his tongue.

Aridai’s expression did not falter or change. They stared at him, into his eyes, and Elisha couldn’t help but to allow his gaze to drop to the floor out of fear. His eye grazed over white scrawlings, cuts into the basement stone that were barely legible, with splatters of blood filling the grooves that were made. One word for every crack of the whip against his back.

ELI SHA EL IS H AEL ISHA ELISHA E LI S-

He flinched as he almost heard the sound of his own screams and snapped his eye shut. They stayed closed until the metal rod pressed against his chin and lifted his head up, and curiosity drug his tired eyelid back open again.

His Master was watching him with a studied eye. Forcing him to sit still while another ache - the one that spread pain from his knees all the way up and down his legs - was added to the bunch. He shook with an obedient fervor; in an incredible amount of pain but wanting still to be so so so good that his loyalty was never questioned again that he dare not move until he was told.

Eventually they bent down to be eye level with him. “Are you ready to be good for me, Elisha?”

A frown twisted his face. Discomfort brought tears to his eye as he did his best to understand what Aridai meant. Why were they calling him that if they wanted him to forget so badly?

He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to remember who he was forever. It was his birthright to be Elisha and nothing was supposed to take that from him.

But Elisha was dead. His Masters had killed him a long time ago when wire wrapped around his limbs, and they held his head still so they could drive metal through his skull to pry out all the disobedient bits. He had to live with the remains, with the cuts of the eye they carved out, with the sting of broken legs, with a name that only brought him agony every time it was spoken. And now Aridai wouldn’t stop calling him by it.

Fingers wound around his horn to still a woozy swaying he hadn’t realized he was doing. “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

“Pl-ple-ple-please… d-d-don’t, don’t, don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Aridai interrupted. “Spit it out already.”

He swallowed back the whine as their grip tightened. “D-don’t, c-c-c-call mm-me that, that,” he finally got out, in a warbly, cracked voice that he knew Jeremiah would have hated.

They finally blinked with all the urgency of the setting sun. “Call you what? Elisha?” Aridai sneered at him. “Is that what you’re so worked up over? I thought you wanted to be called that.”

“No! No, no no no, mm-Master, please,” he cried, uselessly flailing his hands in an effort to hold his horn, where pain was beginning to blossom. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore - at least that’s what it felt like. But he couldn’t stop his babbling. “Pl-pl-please, please, please, Master, no no, no mm-mm-more, no more, no more.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you, hm?”

“I-I-I wa-wa-want, I want to be, to, to, to be Caleb. Please. Pl-please l-let mm-me, please.” Then in a quieter voice, hidden behind rivulets of tears, “I ca- I can be, be, good.”

“Mm… but how am I supposed to believe you?” Aridai hummed. They released him and rose to their full height, crossing their arms. It took everything he had to stay upright. “You’re a liar, pet. A dirty liar. You’ve been lying to me and Jeremiah for years. How am I supposed to believe that you’re telling the truth now?”

“I-I’ll, I’ll do, do anything, pl-please, Master!” The words slipped out before he stopped them, but he couldn’t have thought of anything else. Instead he painfully lowered himself down into a bow, curling his back in just the right way to make him cry out from the pain. He could feel warm blood running down his side as he pressed his horns into the stone floor. “I’ll, I’ll be, be sss-so so so so g-good, Master. I can, I can, I can, just… nn-no no no mm-mm-more him. Please.”

He heard Aridai hum again in thought but he didn’t dare look up now. He merely closed his eye and awaited his fate, whatever it would be. Though he questioned whether he was desperate enough to do anything, if it got him out of the basement, away from this pain… wouldn’t it be worth it? It wasn’t like he had much dignity anyways. It had all been beaten, broken, or fucked out of him by now. 

“I’m still just not sure.” Broken sobs very nearly bubbled out of him, halted as Aridai continued. “But… I have an idea for you to prove yourself. You do this thing for me, and I’ll be merciful. I’ll take you out of here. Take care of these pesky wounds. Does that sound nice?”

“Y-yes, Master. It, it does. I’ll, I’ll be g-good,” he responded immediately.

The sound of a small metal object clattered to the ground.

“Pick that up and get up on your knees.” He looked up to see a knife lying on the ground. Pristine and sharp as always, and he glanced up to his Master. “I want you to carve your name down until I’m satisfied. And not on the stone floor this time. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Their words were like crystal to him. He remembered this game from a long time ago - still stared at the scars on his legs from time to time. Even if it had a different purpose, it was the same. It would hurt, and he would cry and sob and scream. Over and over and over. But this was what Aridai wanted from him so that he could prove himself. A little more pain for them to watch with amusement. He swallowed. I can be good. I can be so good for you, he pleaded in his mind to them.

I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.

Caleb forced himself up to his knees, and picked up the knife as he was told.

[fc17]

Where the crow flies. (tf 141 x cryptic/eldritch crow.)

My oc 'crow', who likes to collect creepy and weird items, who has a scary like intelligence. someone who is only defined by the word enigma. her presence is stagnant and paralyzing. she is not from this world, she is older, wiser, ageless. she is the omen of death.

She. Is. Crow.

TW: Blood, Violence, religious references

Ghost (Simon Riley)

Her voice is never raised. Her voice is always calm. in the heat of war, death. destruction. Her voice never waivers. Her voice will send you into a paralyzing shock. The crows always follow, never leaving her side once. My hands sweated profusely in my skeleton clad gloves. I sat on the ridge of grass where price told me to stay with a sniper rifle at the ready. there was something off about the new recruit. price said to watch her as she did her so called *solo* mission. they wanted to see how she'd do by herself.

Watching her it felt like my mind was fogged over. Even though I was supposed to be the one watching I felt the constant burn of eyes gazing at you. Crow walked out into the open. No gear on, just the pants and shirt she was given. 'What the hell is she doing? She's asking to be killed.' I don't ready the gun, knowing that she did this to herself.

The hidden enemies open fired on her figure. I watched as her body shook from being hit with bullets. Her figure fell backwards to the ground. Creating a puff of dust when she hit. The enemies walked out of their shelters confused by why there was only one person there to stop them, and why they just let themselves be killed.

One neared her still figure, gun still aimed at her body. He lowered his gun and turned away. Her feet planted themselves back into the dirt. her back slowly but surely rose off the ground. My mind raced as I watched every bullet from her body dropped to the ground covered in a black sludge.

Her tattered chest and torso sew itself back together, clothes mending themselves. She now stood back on her feet as if she had been standing there all along. The men stood watching. I knew the fear of being faced with something not human kept their bodies still. The team always knew something was off about her. But now I know, Now I've seen it with my own eyes. She is not organic, She is not filled with blood she is filled with the evil and sins of the world.

The man who checked her body laid in the dirt with blood dripping from his ears, mouth, nose and eyes. I never saw her touch him. He fell to the ground, body limp. The Horrible croak of the crow called out to the land. The grind of bones and screaming filled the air. one of the men to her left about 35 feet away, arm broke downward, Next his legs. Knee caps reversing with an audible crunch. Ive seen multiple bones break while in this line of work. But these were hard to look at. Every other mans bones followed suit. All writhing on the ground in pain and letting agonizing screams escape their lungs.

The crow perched on the building to her right called out once more. At once all of their necks crackled and sharply turned to the left, leaving the group dead.

She turned to face me. She knew I was there. She decided to put on a show for me. Her face was shadowed, almost blurry.

Milky eyes watched me.

John (Soap) McTavish

We all tried to get somewhat closer to her. Every time one of us invited her to do something she declined with out further explanation. Whenever you entered her room she was standing at her desk. Not sitting not slouching not even relaxing in bed.

When I knocked on her door as usual expecting a rejection of whatever I was going to invite her to. There was no answer. "Crow? Ya In there?" I called as I knocked on her door once more. Still no answer. It was weird. She usually responded as soon as a question was asked. My hand traveled down to the handle and pushed the door open. Although I had seen her room multiple times, It still never stopped to intrigue me. Inside, her bed was made neatly, not a single wrinkle or lump in the cover. Her desk filled with silver trinkets, wooden pieces, small animal bones and skulls. On the wall you face when you walk in, is a box clock, an old one. Every tick that sounded made the silence grow more and more unbearable. The room felt almost stagnant and threatening. Pressure built up in his chest, something was telling him to get out.

He turned to leave but in the door way stood the figure of the black bird. He recalls all the times price had mumbled what he'd do if he ever found one of the birds in the base. John turned his attention to getting the bird out as soon as possible. Even though he didn't really consider himself her friend he still wanted to be nice. The birds glossy black feathers ruffled as soap took a step towards it. As The Fledgling hopped, it would stop and turn to look at him, telling soap to follow him but the beady black eyes were daunting and almost teasing the sergeant.

Soap followed that bird everywhere around the base, every turn John turned, the bird wasn't there. Once soap stopped to look around for his next clue as to where to go, the craw of the crow called out to John to lead him somewhere else. He now understood why price didn't want the crows in the building.

He sighed in relief to see the black bird standing in the door way of the door to the base side yard. Soap slowed from his jog to a walk as he neared the open door. Why was the door left open in the first place? He followed the bird outside just make sure it wasn't going to disappear again.

Once he was outside, he looked for the creature only to find crow sitting in the grass, surrounded by 7 of the birds. She was turned away from him. Legs crossed under her sitting figure. Blonde Curls fell to the middle of her back. This was the first time soap had seen her without a tight bun on the low of the back of her head.

"Thank you for bringing him to me." Her voice is flat and held no emotion. The same crow that soap chased through the building hopped up on her shoulder. It is stared at John never blinking. Her finger held up a peanut to the animal perched upon her shoulder.

Soap Swallowed harshly as he stood in her presence. Static danced at his finger tips, feet stuck to the ground, his legs screamed at him to move. He opened his mouth to talk but his voice faltered. Eventually he forces the words out. "what's its name?" He choked out.

A sharp toothed grin made its way to her face. "Luci."

John knew immediately what that name meant. Eyes Watched the 6 other crows, One Hoarded a pile of peanuts, another was trying to get her attention. The third squawked angrily at the one sitting on her shoulder. The fourth Sat further away calling for a mate. The fifth pecked her knees asking for more treats. The last one sleeping in her lap, being gently stroked on its head.

The one on her shoulder... looking at him almost with disgust and a sense of pride.

Kyle (Gaz) Garrick

Kyle knew something was wrong with her the moment she stepped foot on base. He was never able to get a good look at her face. She never stayed in the commons, Never talked unless she was talked to. Even if Gaz did catch a glimpse of her she was always in the corner of his eye and quickly disappearing. Kyle wasn't complaining about it, just that he thought that if they were going to be in the field together at some point then he oughta get to know her.

It was late

1:13 AM. Kyles Phone read. He just finished writing reports, He told himself that he wasn't going to bed until he did. Aching fingers rubbed over his strained eyes. Just when did he start the reports and how long was he staring into his laptop screen? As he basically stumbled down the hall trying to get to his room, a low cry called to him. It didn’t sound human, like a dying animal with something lodged in its throat.

Kyle wasn’t sleepy anymore, wide awake. Head turning, looking for what creature or thing was making the horrendous squeals. He turned the corner a large mass of black feathers and claws sat on the floor at the end of the hallway. Black slime and liquid dropped off the shiny black pinions.

Kyle’s breath caught in his throat, his neck stiffening, eyes wide and panicked. It felt like his eyes were pried open, unable to close them. Gaz didn’t think of himself being religious but in that moment he prayed. To what? He didn’t know. To something to protect him from whatever was down that hall.

The creature turned to the man standing, once milky blank eyes, now blood shot and tearing up. He dropped his laptop( he def has an otter box case for it ) the sound clattering against the stone floor. The lights in the hallway flickered violently, until the over head light bars spat out sparks, leaving the hallway in a tension filled darkness.

The click of talons on the concrete ground sounded in his ears every single one louder. Until it stopped unexpectedly.

The presence surrounded him. The ruffle of feathers heard behind him. Gaz, finally getting his footing, turned around quickly, ready to fight whatever the hell was there.

Nothing. There was nothing. He let out the biggest breath of relief, falling to his bottom. He held his head as he tried to register what he just saw. In his mind he new there was always something far beyond what humans could imagine in this world, but he never thought he’d see one at base.

He sat there for a few minutes catching his breath, at last the hallway lights flickered back to life. Taking a peek to check if that monstrosity was still there, the spot was empty, another sigh of relief ripped through his chest.

His head popped up when he heard foot steps approaching, crow walked with her gaze kept forward, her hair was wet and flowed down her back. She wore a black tank top and pajama pants. No shoes, he couldn’t imagine how cold the concrete floor was. He shivered at the thought. “Crow, what you doing up?” His voice had a waver to it but also Sternness. He stood back up as he spoke.

She didn’t even turn her head to look at him. “Everyone used the shower before me, I had to wait for the warm water.” Her voice echoed softly through the corridors.

A bead of sweat formed at his temple, “there’s something here with us.” His voice hushed at the end. “Of course, he is always with us.” She said monotonously.

“We, are never alone.”

John (Price) Price

He checked her file at least once a day, if not more. Her file didn't even have her name, only her call sign. Laswell brought her in. I didn't want her on the team. she looked young even tough her age wasn’t specified on her file. Her face is blurry in every picture, every gaze.

She constantly had peanuts on hand. Once she was outside for almost five and a half hours just sitting with the black birds surrounding her and plucking things from her palms.

He knew she collected trinkets, well more like things crows have brought to her. Price has even seen a crow bring her a bullet while on a mission. He thought that just maybe those stubborn crows would be useful for delivering things.

Price walked down the corridors pass the gym, not really having anything he was focused on at the moment. While walking he passed a wall with windows. The croon of a caw sounded next to him. He turned his head so quickly he could’ve gotten whiplash.

A single crow stood on the outdoor window sill, he sighed and made his way to the glass to scare the thing off. Right when he was about to hit the window he saw the big holding something in one of its talons.

A short gasp of realization escaped his lungs. It was holding his favorite lighter he lost a few days ago. A silver box shaped lighter with J.P. Engraved in it. He quickly looked up and down at the window to see if it he could open it.

Unfortunately for him none of these particular windows opened. He looked back at the bird and scowled before speed walking to the door that lead to the yard that was closest to him.

Once he was outside he jogged to the window, hoping the bird stayed where it was. He frowned when he didn’t see the bird at the window sill, instead it sat on the building roof, staring down at him. Eye twitching price basically ran back inside looking for the recruit. He knew that she would most likely be able to coax the black bird to drop his prized lighter.

As he sped down the halls, making sure to look down each one to look for her figure, he spotted Gaz walking with his hands stuffed in his pockets and with a bored look on his face. “Have you seen crow?” He asked with a small pant from trying to find her.

Kyle just pointed behind him and said “mess hall” Price muttered a small thanks before making his way to the mess. Once he turned the corner into the room he saw her with her arm raised and a black bird perched on her forearm. Soap stood slightly bent down slowly reaching his hand to the fledgling. With a nervous but excited look on his face. Ghost sat at the other side of the table a few seats down with his arms crossed and an unamused look in his eyes as he watched soap try to touch the bird.

“Crow, one of your damn birds has my lighter.” He huffed as he neared. Her head slightly moved to the left before she held her free arm up and in her thumb and pointer finger was his sliver lighter.

How did she get to that bird outside and back in here in time before he found her? He couldn’t explain it. He snatched the lighter in his hands as soap finally pet the birds head with his tongue slightly out for concentration.

The crow moved its head and looked at soap quickly, the man swiftly backed away and hid behind the recruits body. “J P” the bird cawed as it turned its head to John and stared at him.

The girl brought her left hand pointer finger up to the birds chest and rubbed it gently. Price was shocked and sort of disgusted with the birds scratchy voice.

“What is that thing, the devil?” He said gruffly as he backed up a small step.

She led the bird to her shoulder and let it jump on, then laid her arm back on the table.

“He seems to like you J P”

[julara-kaelwyn]

Jade of the Sea (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2

Jun's POV

The campfire crackled in the quiet of the night, its golden glow casting flickering shadows over the rough faces of my crew. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and earth, the sounds of the forest blending with the low murmurs of my men. We were settled just off the riverbank, surrounded by towering trees, their gnarled branches weaving a canopy above us. The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the distant, almost haunting sound of the river rushing through the canyon. The river—wild, unpredictable, and deadly—was both a blessing and a curse, offering both danger and gifts to those who dared approach.

I leaned back, allowing the warmth of the fire to seep into my bones as my eyes drifted to the shifting shadows beyond the flames. The weight of the journey ahead pressed on me, but for now, we were safe. I had the moment to think, to plan. But my thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Boss!" Garan's deep, raspy call cut through the night. I turned, my sharp gaze settling on him as he strode into the light, a wide grin stretched across his face. The wiry, burly man seemed to thrive in the wilds, his sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes gleaming with something between excitement and mischief. He was carrying something limp in his arms, and as he drew closer, the murmurs from the crew grew louder.

"Look what the river brought in. A little snack for us, eh?" he said, his voice thick with humor, though there was something unsettling in the way he grinned.

The camp stirred at his words, murmurs rising as the men craned their necks to get a look at whatever Garan had discovered. Harun, ever the skeptic and troublemaker, snorted from the edge of the circle.

"Snack?" he scoffed, stepping forward with a smirk. "You sure it's not a corpse? Doesn't look like she's breathing to me, you idiot." His voice was low, but it carried enough to make the others laugh, the tension in the camp momentarily breaking.

I stood up, brushing the dirt off my pants and crossing the clearing toward Garan. As I got closer, I saw the girl for the first time. Garan dropped her onto the ground near the fire with a careless thud, and I knelt beside her, my eyes narrowing as I took in the sight. She was soaked to the bone, her clothes tattered and stained with mud. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, her chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths.

"She's alive," I said, my voice low but firm, silencing the murmurs around the camp. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as I inspected her more closely. Her appearance screamed of someone who had been through something horrible—a desperate struggle, perhaps—or had been lost for far too long.

My gaze shifted to her neck, where something caught the firelight. A jade pendant, hanging delicately from a fine chain. The craftsmanship was unmistakably intricate, the fine artistry of the piece standing out against her otherwise ragged appearance. This wasn't something that a common person would own. It was too refined, too beautiful. She either stole it—or she was from a noble family.

My mind raced, calculating the possibilities. If she were noble, someone would surely be missing her. Someone who could offer a hefty sum for her safe return. Or, better yet, someone who could be persuaded to pay a hefty ransom to avoid the scandal of her ending up in the hands of the wrong people.

"What should we do with her, boss?" Harun's voice broke my thoughts, dripping with amusement. His arms were crossed, a sarcastic grin tugging at his lips. "She's half-dead already. Toss her back in the river?"

I shot him a glare, the firelight casting shadows across my face, making my expression even harder to read. Harun's grin faltered as he took a step back. The men knew better than to push me when I was in this mood. I could feel the heat rising inside me. My patience, already thin, was wearing even thinner.

"If you touch her with your filthy hands, I'll cut them off for you," I growled. My voice was low, but the deadly seriousness in it caused the air around us to tense.

Harun's grin vanished completely. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but I saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Understood, boss."

I didn't say another word. Carefully, I lifted the girl into my arms, the weight of her fragile body strangely grounding. She was cold, and her breath was barely a whisper against my chest, but there was life in her yet. I turned toward the tent, giving orders without looking back. "Garan, get some blankets. Harun, grab the medicine kit. And move quickly."

Garan muttered something under his breath, but he didn't hesitate to follow my orders, disappearing into the shadows to gather what I'd asked for. Harun stood still for a moment, arms still crossed, looking like he was about to say something else. I met his gaze with a hard look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

"What, we helping her now?" Harun finally asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. "She could be trouble. Or worse—she could lead trouble straight to us. Looks like someone who doesn't belong out here."

I turned back toward him, my expression grim. "Exactly. And I want to know why she's here, and who she is. She's my guest now, so unless you want me to feed you to the sharks, shut up and do as you're told."

Harun opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips. He didn't argue further, and I took that as a sign to move on.

I carried the girl into my tent, ignoring the skeptical glances from the crew as they watched from the firelight. The air inside was warmer, the quiet a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. I laid her gently on the cot, her body seeming to sink into the softness of the makeshift bedding. I brushed her damp hair away from her face, studying her features closely. Pale, fragile, and unconscious, there was an odd sense of calm about her, as if she were caught between this world and the next. Yet, even in unconsciousness, there was something about her expression—a flicker of resilience, of quiet strength—that I hadn't expected.

My fingers instinctively moved to the jade pendant still nestled around her neck. The cool surface sent a shiver through me, and I couldn't help but trace the fine carvings with my thumb. The jade had an almost unnatural weight to it, a presence that seemed to hum with power. The old man's stories about ancient relics, curses, and hidden powers echoed in my mind, stories I had dismissed as mere superstition. But as I held the pendant, those tales didn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

I tightened my grip around the chain, the fine links wrapping around my palm like a secret. The weight of the pendant felt almost tangible, like the very air in the tent had changed, charged with something I couldn't place. A whisper of danger, perhaps, or a sense of destiny—or something darker.

I looked down at the girl, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The faintest exhale of air escaped her lips. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was more than just a helpless stranger. There was a mystery around her, and I had just stepped into it, whether I liked it or not.

"You'd better not make me regret this," I muttered under my breath, my voice barely more than a whisper. The words hung in the air, the weight of them almost too heavy to carry. I wasn't sure why I felt this way, why I was making this choice. It was as if I'd been drawn into something I couldn't control.

The moment had passed. A decision had been made. And now, there was no going back. Whatever this was—whether it led to salvation or damnation—I'd have to see it through.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter Overview

[the-serf]

OH FUCK: Here's a thing I wrote

Said I'd Write. I rewrote this dream sequence for this larger project I'm doing. Maybe I'm risking getting lambasted.

"

I drift into a lake of nothing, aimless, aching. My temples throb, my ears ring. It’s cold, my left cheek stings, and it’s so cold. Something pools on my cheek, my blood. I know it’s my blood. Chill bites onto it so quickly.

A snowflake drifts onto the tip of my nose as I’m stuck in this moment of falling, drowning in that cold nothing. I don’t know if I’m rising to meet it or if it met me. It drinks down what is left of my warmth as it melts.

I know this place. I know what happens next. I can see the gray, cloudy skies, and little else. It burns its patterns into my eyes. It’s so bright, I can barely see the trees. They almost seem like they’re leaning over, to watch over me as I fall. The sky starts burning, it hurts my eyes, and I blink.

When I open my eyes, I’m no longer falling. I’m on a gurney. Masked faces look down at me, and my body. I can’t move, it hurts too much, except for my left leg, the pain terminates at the top of my quads. I wondered if I’ll get to keep it at the end of all this. I smile. My bare chest lays exposed. I don’t have the will or the means to cover myself. A hand lowers a mask onto my face, and I drift away.

 Rocketing down a pit of nothing, dropping deeper and deeper into unpierceable darkness. My face twisted into a grin, or a sort of sickly grimace, even as I broke down and my throat choked out pained sobs between the cackles. It was funny, the embrace of it all. The cold caress of the ambivalent hand. Oh well, I thought, sometimes you just get unlucky. I found this even funnier knowing that I would eventually have to open my eyes again at some point, back into the burning white, into the blinding, flashing, deafening tempest. I laugh even harder. I am sent careening down the pit, a maw of twisting and gnashing teeth. My eyes stung, saline and blood pouring forth from my eyes, splitting my eyelids from my tear ducts. My own laughter echoes back to me. My bones shudder, my skull rattles. With every fissure, every split in my skin, I am shaken loose from my very flesh. My entire body, my meat that was, aches and burns as it is taken from me, wet, dripping, weeping, bleeding. 

I am ceramic, polymers, metals. My heart starts to beat to the rhythms of steel clashing on steel. The air carried the heavy stench of blood, iron, and burnt oil. I had lost myself until I revealed this horrible nightmare. My ribcage, bolted and riveted together haphazardly. My arms, unnaturally long and slender, my fingers extended into horrible talons, gleaming and glistening from me. They stretched like wicked wings. Maybe I can fly! I think, fly away from everything, fly into a star where I can be warm, where nobody can touch me. Only a fool would think this, I knew that. I laugh in coughing bursts, now. The ache hasn't gotten any better. My body is hollow, my throat is shaking loose. I am filled with undiscerning purpose. Eyes that do not see. Ears that do not hear. A mind that cannot recall and a heart that cannot scar. And a mouth that knows nothing but laughter. 

The thousand-fold maw bears down on me, turning me to naught all the same.

"

I will now look back on this in 2-5 business days and deem it cringe.

[quietwingsinthesky]

“He doesn’t belong to you,” Lucifer says from over Sam’s shoulder. It’s telling that Sam doesn’t even flinch anymore. He glances down at his hand and sighs.

It doesn’t matter if he talks to Lucifer or not. They’re at a stalemate. Sam can’t send him away. Lucifer can’t kill him. The closest Sam has ever come to victory over the devil is compromise that keeps him close. But Lucifer sounds angry, now.

“What doesn’t belong to me?” Sam asks. He’s tired. He was feeling much better earlier, but there was the whole mess with the real life Wicked Witch. He feels like he might collapse. Maybe Dean’s right. Maybe he really isn’t ready to hunt. He keeps passing out, forgetting things… At least Dean keeps his head on straight, eyes on everything Sam misses.

“Shut up, Sam,” Lucifer says, condescending to him with affection. “And you. Stop playing with my toys, little brother.”

No one answers Lucifer. Sam, reluctantly, turns his head to face him. Lucifer’s glaring a hole into his skull, like he wants to reach inside and pull things out chunk by chunk. The air in Sam’s lungs comes out in a rush. Lucifer looks through him, as though Sam is the illusion. “Get. Out,” he snaps.

Sam blinks and-

“He never said yes to you. He doesn’t even know your-” Lucifer is enraged now, and Sam’s sitting differently than he was a moment ago, and his mouth feels dry. Lucifer’s gaze, sharp as ever, falls onto him, but when he sees Sam trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down, it softens. “I’m not yelling at you. Sam. You haven’t done anything to deserve that right now.” Cloying again, protective. “You wouldn’t have let anything in while I’m away if you had the choice. No one else would ever make you whole like I do, and you know that.”

“You’re doing this,” Sam accuses. The weakness from the trials might have given Lucifer an upper hand in this mental war. All of the things Sam has noticed, they’re his doing. He should tell Dean. (Can he tell Dean? What if he tries and he forgets again? What if he thinks he’s saying one thing and Lucifer makes him say another?) Lucifer looks insulted.

“No. Listen to yourself, Sam. You’re smarter than this. If it was me, you would know.” Lucifer reaches out a hand as though he can touch Sam’s cheek. Even knowing he can’t, Sam pushes his chair back.

Lucifer glares again, cuts through him. It’s easy to tell which he’s-

“-broke him in for my comfort, not yours,” Lucifer is snapping at him again. Sam’s head pounds. “Tell him, Sam. You belong to me.”

“What?” He can’t focus. He feels nauseous, jumping back and forth between Lucifer’s tirades.

“Whose vessel are you, Sam?”

Without thinking, Sam answers, “Yours.” He just wants Lucifer to be quiet. He can’t hear himself think. Lucifer stills, a pleased expression crossing his face-

It’s a scowl, and Lucifer looks like he wants to rip Sam to shreds. “Nothing you do will ever erase my claim on him. I worked him over too well.”

“Shut up!” Sam shouts. A moment later, he regrets it, his voice echoes down the Bunker’s halls. It doesn’t work anyway.

“I took him when he was shattered across the floor of the Cage and remade him into something beautiful.” Sam shakes his head. It makes his nausea worse, a sea too big to fit sloshing inside his skull. His skin feels too tight over his bones. Why is there so much inside him? It doesn’t fit right, it’s poking into his organs, stitching him together wrong. He’s going to throw up.

“He can throw you out whenever he wants. Do you understand that? You’re an intruder. He never wanted you like he wanted me.”

“Who are you talking to?” Sam demands. He thinks he’s still shouting, but there’s a roar in his ears. It sounds angry. He can still hear Lucifer perfectly, no matter how loud it gets.

“The angel you said yes to. His name is-”

Sam is sitting alone. Lucifer is absent for once, and Sam can work without the devil on his shoulder commenting. His stomach turns for some reason. He can’t help the horrible, incessant feeling that he’s forgotten something important.

But there’s nothing there.

s9 hallucifer who keeps telling Sam that he’s possessed, that there’s someone else in his body, that the time he’s missing is another being taking control of him, and Sam doesn’t believe him.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Kicking Up Dust - Part 7

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None in this chapter - just a protective Bucky. More sexy times to follow!

A/N: Takes place after ‘Falcon and the Winter Soldier’ with one major exception - Steve Rogers is not dead. He stepped down. This is in line with my Crossroads story. There will also be a parallel Steve story coming.

Part 6 or Master List

You rolled over to the morning sun in your eyes and an empty bed. Craning your neck to see the 7:12 on the bedside clock, you felt the twinge of muscles that had not been so thoroughly worked over in a while. Bucky woke you in the middle of night, his mouth upon your skin and left you sweating and devoid of bone. He’d been wrapped tightly to your back, holding you spooned against him, when you’d fallen back to sleep.

Curiosity urged you out of bed. Donning a bathrobe, you padded downstairs. Fresh coffee waited in the pot. You poured yourself a cup before exploring the house for him. The rooms were silent and the back door was still locked. Eventually, you peeked out the front window and found him sitting on the porch writing in a journal.

Bucky’s head popped up when you opened the door.

“Am I interrupting?” You asked.

He set the journal and pen aside before extended a hand to you. Taking it, he gently pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you. “I couldn’t sleep any longer and didn’t want to wake you.” His hand slid beneath the robe to rest on your bare thigh. “I can’t seem to keep from touching you.”

You ran your fingers through the hair that stuck up at the back of his head. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Bucky pressed kissed to your neck.

“I didn’t know you journalled, too.”

“Mm-hmm.” He sighed. “It helped me put all the fragments of my memory in the right places. Now, it’s become habit.”

“Something you and your sister have in common.” You sipped at your coffee.

“Yeah. I’m realize how lucky I am that she wrote so much down.” He gently took the coffee from your hand and sipped. You didn’t mind sharing. “How would you like to go into town with me today? I’d like to look up a few of the families that may have known her.”

You nodded. “Okay, sure. Any particular reason? Or is it just curiosity?”

“Something just feels off. I don’t know.” His brows pulled together. “I still find it really weird that no one ever looted – or even broke into – this place. I did a little digging before I came up. Did you know that before you bought it, no one ever even tried? It’s like someone just sat on it.”

“I brought from a trustee.”

“Hayes and Cooper Limited.”

You nodded, unsurprised that he knew.

“Were you aware that their founding partner died just four months before you bought this place?” When you frowned, he continued. “I think he was sitting on it for some reason. I’d like to see if there’s anyone still at the firm that knows anything, or maybe has files.”

“Alright.” You smiled into your coffee mug. “I’m going to need a shower first.”

Bucky suppressed a smile. “Me too.”

. . .

He just sat on the edge of the tub watching you comb out your wet hair. His eyes followed the movement of your arm, watched the flexing of the muscles in your back. A sly smile lit his face at the faint red marks his fingers left on your hips.

“What?” You asked.

“Just thinking.” He grinned.

“About?”

“Turns of events.” Bucky stood and kissed your shoulder. “Thought this trip would horrible. Figured it would just rip open a bunch of shit and I am pretty much done having wounds ripped open.” His nose skimmed along your neck to your ear. “Instead, I’m actually kinda happy remembering all this stuff. There’s things – pictures and stuff – I never thought I’d see again. And for some completely unknown reason, this really beautiful, really kind, woman actually lets me . . .” He nipped your ear.

“Lets you put your dick in her.” You giggled.

Bucky gauffed in surprise, laughing. “Jesus, Doll.”

You turn in his arms, smiling up at him. “Am I wrong?”

“I was going to say ‘let’s me spend time with her’.” He chuckled. “But yeah, that part is even better.”

“Smiling look damn good on you. You know that?”

He just shook his head, and you swore his cheeks flushed. “Quit your flirting, Doll, or we’re never getting out of here.”

“Don’t want that to happened,” you teased. “I’m starving and you promised to buy me breakfast.”

“Lunch.” He placed a quick kiss upon your lips. “It’s lunchtime, now.” 

The two of you took your truck into town. Given the opportunity, you wanted to pick up some more groceries and packing materials. A little diner on the edge of town had several cars in the parking lot and Bucky could smell good food before he even got out of the truck.

They served breakfast all day, so you still got waffles. Bucky ordered two double bacon burgers with extra fries. He just offered a terse fake smile when the waitress asked, “you sure?”. You doctored up the too dark coffee until Bucky’s index finger lightly tapped the table. You looked up, a brow arched.

“That pizza delivery lady works here, too.” He whispered. “She favoring her left arm now.”  

As you were trying to decern how Bucky knew the waitress slash pizza delivery person was favoring an arm, a local policeman wondered up to your table. Somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, life left him soft in the middle and hard in the face. Hitching his fingers in his belt just emphasized the barely contained belly.

“You the new owner of the Lewis estate?” He stood close enough to your table that you could smell the stale sweat on him, staring a Bucky.

“Hmm.” You smiled with a non-committal answer. “And you are?”

His gaze remained on Bucky. “Someone asking him a question, that’s who I am.”

Dumb ass, you thought as you watched Bucky’s whole body tense. His face showed no emotion, but every bit of the relaxed features you adored solidified. “You’re talking to the wrong person, officer” You emphasized is title.

“Am I, now?” He didn’t look away from Bucky. You could see the effort it took him to maintain the eye contact.

“Pretty sure it’s my signature on the paperwork. Is there a problem? ‘Cause my food is getting cold.”

He turned physical toward you. “Just wanting to know what connection you got to the Lewis family.”

“She bought the property. That’s it.” Bucky growled. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Not an answer.” The officer stood a little taller. “That your truck out there? Maybe I should run your plates.”

“You already have.” Bucky stood up, staring down the cop. “It told you nothin’ so you came over to throw your weight around, hoping to intimate your way to more information. Problem is, pal, you’re not intimidating and there ain’t nothing to learn here.”

“You just sit back down, son.” The officer sounded firm, but you could see his fear. “You don’t want trouble.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You huffed. “Neither do you. If you were just curious maybe try start with a pleasant ‘Hi, welcome to the neighborhood” instead of whatever this is.”

“Best not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, girl.”

“Best not call her ‘girl’.”

Bucky removed his gloves and jacket. Someone behind you whispered, “Holy shit! That’s the Winter Soldier.” The office looked down at the moving plates of the vibraium arm as Bucky’s fingers closed into a fist. The man had the sense to swallow hard and take a step back.

“Don’t go threatening me.” The cop tried to sound tough, but fear made his voice reedy.

The corner of Bucky’s lip tipped up. “I ain’t threatening anyone. We’re just having a conversation about you no longer being curious about her. Haven’t you heard?” His voice dropped to sub-artic levels. “I’m rehabilitated.”

“Yeah,” You smiled your best fake smile. “Nice to meet you, officer?”

“Whittaker.” Bucky offered. He’d heard someone say his name as they drew the attention of the whole diner. “His name’s Whittaker.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Whittaker.” You sipped your coffee. “You have a nice day.”

Bucky gave him the scariest smile you’d ever imagined. “Yeah, have a nice day.”

The cop nodded once and left. He didn’t run, but his keys jingled with the speed of his exit.

You returned to your meal, trying to project normalcy as Bucky slipped back into the booth. “Well,” you sighed. “That was interesting.”

As you looked around the diner, the others slowly began to turn their attention away from you. When Bucky rolled his head and softened his posture, they relaxed even more. His eyes locked on two men sitting at the diner counter who continued to stare. He frowned. They both got up from their half eaten meals and left. Neither paid. Hopping into an old Ford, they drove off in the same direction as the cop.

“Do you –,” a voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Do you want more coffee?”

It was the lady who delivered the pizza. Bucky’s face softened and he slid his cup closer. She poured with very little shake to her hand.

“Thank you.” He smiled, this time with charm. “Are we going to see you at the grocery store, too?”

“Huh?”

“You delivered the pizza. I was just wondering how many jobs you have around here.” Bucky grinned.

“Oh, uh.” She topped off your cup as well. “I got a few.” She just stood for a moment, chewing her lower lip.

Bucky pointed to the empty seats at the counter. “Seems like you had those guys skip out on their tab.”

“Bobby and Mic don’t pay hardly ever.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Just easier.”

You frowned, wondering what it was easier than.

“Can I get anything else?” She swallowed, nervously. “Pie? The apple is fresh.”

“A slice of apple pie would be great.” Bucky smiled.

When she walked away, you arched a curious brow. Buck gave you the slightest shake of his head. There were too many people in the diner still paying attention to you. He inhaled the final bites of his burger and you went back to eating.

Your original waitress remained on the far side of the diner as the beaten looking woman brought Bucky a piece of pie. She set it and fresh fork in a paper napkin on the table and quickly retreated. He took up the fork and ate the pie in five large bites.

Pulling out his wallet, he lifted a finger to ask for the bill. “Let’s go.” He muttered.

When your original waitress came over with the ticket, Bucky stood skillfully hideing their transaction from others. He handed her a hundred dollar bill. “Go ahead and keep the change.” Her mouth fell open. He pulled out another hundred. “This is for the other gal. Those jerks stiffed her of a tip.” She looked up with eyes full of surprise. Bucky gently closed her fingers around the money. “There’s no way either of you get paid enough to do this job. Take it, please. Best not to tell anyone else.”

“Wow,” She chuckled. “Thanks.”

Once in the privacy of your truck, you sat back with a sigh. “What the hell was that all about?”

Bucky pulled a paper napkin from his front pocket. “According to our waitress, good old Whittaker is ‘connected’. She passed me a note that says, ‘watch your back, he’s got connections’.” He frowned and shook his head. “I doubt either of them have any idea what real connections are.”

“Think it’s got anything to do with his interest in the Lewis family connection?” You started up the truck.

“I think we should go talk to those trustees and then I’m going to make a couple calls when we get back to the house.” Bucky reached over and rested his left hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, Doll. We’ll get this figured out.”



A/N:

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[tumbledfreckles]

Glad

Look, things escalated once I saw a post about in the name of fairness and equality, having a shirtless Lily Evans July, to go along with shirtless James Potter May (wasn’t that a cracker). I went off and wrote something, only to find my colleagues had smartly decided to move it August, give we’ve already got the @jilychallenge going on this month. But I’m all about instant gratification, so seeing I was late to shirtless JP, let me be early to shirtless LE. I doubt it’ll be my only entry, regardless. 

"Does it hurt?"

Lily shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from wincing or crying out, as pain tore through her back with each of the shuddering breath. 

"Can I see?" 

James’ hand hovered in the region of her shoulder, she could see out of the corner of her eye. He hesitated, waiting for permission. 

"I'm fine." The words ground out of her with another excruciating shake of her head. 

"Evans." His fingers brushed her top, withdrawing the second she flinched, a sharp hiss escaping before she could stop it. "You're not fine." 

"I'm okay." Lily turned as she spoke, not wanting her back to him, not wanting to let him keep seeing what had to be the grossest, nastiest thing he'd ever seen. Her eyes met his, surprised to see frustration where she'd expected pity, or worse, disgust.

"Let me help you." 

She stared at him, long moments, until the burning pain in the wound was worse than the burn of desire she felt around him, and she gave up on the idea of appearing brave and fierce and worthy. 

James’ touch was hesitant, even after she nodded. He didn't seem to know where to start. A gentle caress along the torn and exposed muscle of her shoulder blade drew a groan, a firmer tug at the frayed fabric of her shirt a more strangled, stricken yelp. 

"Shit, sorry," he was instantly apologetic. Lily snuck a look over her one intact shoulder, to see James had stepped back, face pale, hand running through his messy locks. He looked nervous, uncertain. Like he knew the answer, but didn't care for the result. 

"What is it?" Her voice was husky with pain and fatigue. She wasn't sure how she hadn't passed out yet. 

James sighed, looked away, looked back. He grimaced, finally spoke. "It's your shirt. It's stuck, from the," he paused, swallowed, "from the blood."

"Okay," Lily nodded slowly. 

He could see she didn't understand. "It has to come off." 

"My shirt?" 

"Yeah," James sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Your shirt. It has to come off." 

"Oh." Eventually, effortfully, her fingers moved to comply. A whimper escaped soon after. "I can't." 

He blinked at her. "What?" 

"My shirt. I can't get it off." She was horrified to find her eyes pricking. 

"Oh." A tick flicked across his jaw as James processed. "Do you want me to -" 

"If you don’t-”

“I don’t” 

“Ta." Her gaze went to the floor as he stepped closer, reaching for the top button. He clearly tried not to touch her. An absolute failed mission. Warm fingers brushed her throat, her chest, knuckles soft against her breast, her stomach. It wasn't until she felt his hand tremble as he pulled one side of the shirt away, exposing her to his view, that her eyes flew back to his face. 

James wasn't looking at her. Not directly at least. Maybe somewhere over her shoulder, possibly near her ear. Lily was fascinated to see a tinge in his cheeks, a flush in his neck. Lips pressed in concentration, he didn't even seem to be breathing. Long lashes hid a storm of hazel behind his wire framed glasses as he work the material towards her shoulders, and paused. 

"I'll have to rip it." 

She jumped, immediately regretting it as a fresh wave of nausea swept through with the blinding pain. "What?" 

"Your shirt," he gestured uselessly. 

"My shirt?" 

"I can't get it down your arm. Unless you can roll that shoulder," he raised an eyebrow, "I'm going to have to rip your shirt off." 

"All your wildest dreams come true, huh, Potter?" Lily couldn't help the quip, despite the pain, and in the moment the grin split across James face, it was worth it.

"Not quite the way I pictured this, believe me," James shook his head as Lily snorted, his face growing somber before she was ready for that one moment of lightness to be over. His hands hovered over a seam. "Ready?" 

Lily curls her hands into fists, feeling her nails cut into her palms. "Do it." 

Despite her best efforts, a low moan escaped for her throat, a harsh breath as James pulled the material away. Audible, so loud it would have been embarrassing if she'd had the capacity to care, panting came next as he painstakingly peeled it from where it stuck to her skin. So all consumed by her agony, she barely had time to process that she was now shirtless before him.

"I'm sorry." He leant so close, she felt his breath on her now bare, now exposed neck. 

"It's okay. Keep going."

"Here." She felt James’ hand reached around her, take hold of hers. He prised her fingers apart, entwining them with his own. "Hold tight." 

Lily squeezed gratefully. Probably too tightly, but James gave no indication he minded if she broke any of his bones, as he knitted her back together. The burn of torn flesh was replaced slowly but surely with just the heat of his touch as he healed. 

Finally, but all too soon, he was done. But the feel of his rough, calloused fingertips remained. Her skin tingled with awareness. James' hand slid across her now smooth shoulder, catching on her bra strap. She thanked the high heavens it was one of her better ones, having been out for dinner with the girls when she was summoned to the battlefield. 

"Alright, Evans?" His voice was soft as he trailed along the lace edge to her collar bone, stopping at the nape of her neck. 

Lily leant back, until his shirt brushed against her bare skin. "Much better, thanks." She kept going, leaning her weight onto him, sinking into his warmth. "I was stupid." 

"Taunting Lestrange may not have been your best move," James agreed, cheek to hers. His arm stole around her waist, causing her to gasp at the novel feel of his forearm against her stomach. Not wanting him to read her sound of surprise for anything less than pleasure, her own arm covered his, spanning the corded muscles. 

Bold from adrenaline, left over from the battle, high of the thrill of surviving another night, she turned her head, until her lips caught his cheek. "Thank you for hauling me out of there."

He nuzzled against her. "You're welcome." 

"And thank you for healing me." Her lips landed on the corner of his mouth this time. 

"Of course."

"But mostly," she twisted in his arms, hand curling up into his hair, slipping on the unruly strands. "Thanks for hitting that bastard for me when I couldn't." 

"Always." 

Lily's lips covered his, a perfect fit, like she'd long suspected they would. She heard his hum of pleasure as their mouths moved together for the first time, and all the last bits of tension from the horrible night slipped away. It might have been his kiss, it might have been her relief at their escape, but all of a sudden it didn't matter why her shirt had ended up in tatters on the ground. She was just really glad it had. 

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think