#sometimes there are forks laying on the ground

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter 2

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: Suggestive themes, language

Word count: 2.6k

Unedited

The next morning you wake like any other morning. When the roosters crow, you absentmindedly make your way downstairs, partially unaware of the mess you had made yesterday. The first floor was empty, not a single hybrid in sight. The house was quiet- a little too quiet. You began to make breakfast, cooking a meal for a family instead of just one. After searching the fridge, you grab about 10 eggs instead of just one and use all of your fresh bacon from the butcher shop in town. You also scrummaged through your cabinets for some flour. Maybe they'll like pancakes?

The first of the pack to wake up was the bunny hybrid. He told you his name was Jungkook. Sleepy-eyed, he tiptoes his way to the kitchen, following the aroma of bacon and eggs.

"Mm, smells good", he mumbled, sneaking a piece of bacon off of one of the plates. You smacked his hand lightly.

"Not so fast", you warned him. "Go wake the others and tell them to come to the dining table. I wanna talk about something while we eat breakfast."

He gulped. The last time someone just wanted to talk, they were put on the streets and being hunted like rabid animals. He was praying to whoever above that this was not the case.

"It's nothing bad", you promised him, as if you could sense his nervousness. "I meant what I said the other day. You all can stay as long as you please. I just want to go over some ground rules and make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible."

He nodded, making his way back to the room to wake up his pack mates. While he gathered up the crew, you set the table, laying out two plates of bacon, two stacks of pancakes, a plate of eggs, and a glass bottle of homemade maple syrup. You placed a fork and knife at each chair and a pile of napkins on the center of the table, close enough for everyone to reach.

One by one, everyone made their way to their seats. First was Jungkook who rushed to the table after informing the other breakfast was served. Next was timid Fox, Hoseok. He took the seat closest to you. Trailing after him was a panther hybrid, Yoongi. You haven't had the chance to talk to him yet, but it seemed like he wished to keep it that way. He took the seat furthest away from you. The pack leader, Namjoon, came out last with two other wolves and a sugar glider.

"Thank you for the hospitality", said Namjoon. He sat directly across from you, speaking with his head hanging low. Now that you think about it, none of them made eye contact when speaking to you, head always in their lap fiddling with thier fingers.

"No need to thank me", You replied, scraping some scrambled eggs onto their plates. The bunny looked at them with disgust, picking up his fork and picking through it, not ever putting the fork to his lips.

"Is it not up to par?" You asked him. Maybe the eggs went bad. Sometimes you don't get to the eggs fast enough. He shook his head.

"No! I bet there great... I just don't really like eggs", He whispered, as if he said something he shouldn't. However, The pack omega, Jin, was quick to scold him.

"Don't be a brat", he reprimanded. "Eat the food that miss y/n took her time to cook for us. She's been gracious enough to let us stay here. Don't give her a reason to kick us out!"

You interrupted his scolding. "It's okay! there's plenty more for you to eat here, as long as you still get your protein."

They looked at you in confusion, and you returned the same look. If you were being honest, it scared you, listening to Jin talk to him that way. Did they actually believe that you would put them out over something so trivial? Everyone went silent, slow to touch their plates.

"Just to be clear, I would never kick you guys out. This is your home now, if you so choose to stay. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. Tell me if you do or don't like something. I want to get to know you guys more, now that we're roommates and everything."

"T-thank you miss y/n", Jin uttered. "We've never been treated like..."

Like people, he wanted to say.

"And another thing", you continued with your speech. "You don't have to call me that. I would actually prefer you just call me by my name. Just y/n will do just fine." You showed your bright smile to let them know you weren't upset.

"okay... y/n" he hesitated. You could see a slight smile sneak up on his face, but he quickly pushed it away. You took it as some progress. Instead of putting everything on their plate, you let them choose what they wanted. It made it easier to see what you should cook next time, knowing what foods they craved the most.

"Also, I have to go in town and get you guys some new clothes, but in the meantime you guys can wear some of my brother's old clothes. I probably won't get any until next week. I don't like going in town." It's true, you dreaded going into town. That's why you preferred the rural setting. Your brother however, wanted to experience more, leaving you and your parents to take care of the farm. And when your parents took their final breath, you inherited it all, and he wanted nothing to do the family farm or you.

The guys looked like they had questions, but they didn't dare ask them. Instead, they thank you for the meal and go wash up, putting on the clothes you gave them, giving you enough time to clean up and wash the dishes.

"I can help with that, if you want", you heard a voice behind you whisper. You turned around to see who was speaking, only to see no one there.

"Uh, sure?" You spoke into the air, hoping whoever asked could hear who. Then a head peaked around the corner with perked ears, followed by the rest of his body.

"H-hello", the wolf whispered. "I'm Taehyung. Jimin wanted to come too but he's a little more shy." He spoke whilst looking at the ground, face as red as a cherry tomato. "I'm good at washing dishes!"

"Really? I would love that", you smiled, lightly ruffling his hair with your slightly wet hands. He hid his face in his hands, making you smile even harder. If he is this shy, you can't imagine how Jimin must be.

After a while he gained enough courage to grab the sponge from your grasp, washing each plate carefully. While he washed the dishes you dried them and put them away, creating a system for the both of you.

"So, where are you guys from?" You tried to make small talk, hopefully lightening the mood. Sadly it did the exact opposite. his head tilted at your question, like he was trying to remember.

"You mean where we were born?" He asked you.

"Yeah, like your birthplace. For example, I was born right in this very house. My mother had a home birth." You don't think he understood what that was, but you decided to just leave it alone for now.

"Well, I was born in a lab, I think. The lab is all I remember. I never met my parents. Jin was made in a test tube, so he doesn't have any parents. I think the only one who grew up with parents is Hoseok."

"Oh, that's unfortunate", is all you could bring yourself to say. You can't imagine it, your whole life being used as some project, some new invention, being given away as pets or fighters. Life must've not been too kind to this pack of hybrids.

Taehyung shrugged. "It's nothing we're not used to. That's why this is so important to me. I really don't want to mess this up again."

"I would never. There's nothing you guys can do that would make me do such a thing."

"That's what the last one said", he sighed. "That's why Joon is so cautious. The last time he let someone in, he was being hauled to a research facility."

"I'm so sorry", you sympathized. "But I promise you will never have to deal with that as long as you guys are here. Let me prove it to you." After hearing all that these guys have gone through, you made it your personal agenda to make them feel as loved and wanted as possible, starting with the oldest.

***

In order to understand your new roommate's better, you began to do some research on their breeds in your study. Panther hybrids, like Yoongi, sleep for almost have of the day and prefer dark spaces. A bunny hybrids favorite snack is carrots, of course. Luckily you have plenty of them in your garden. Honeydew is a very important part of a sugar glider hybrids diet. Wolves and foxes need a large grassy area to call their own and shift into their animal form more often.

"Y/n?" A voice called on the other side of the door, breaking you away from your research.

"You can come in, Tae", you knew that smooth deep voice by memory now. "I was just finishing up but you can sit down, if you want."

The wolf opened the door, observing the decor in your office. He was mesmerized by all of the books you kept on the shelves, probably covered in a white, dusty film. It's been a while since you dusted. You pointed to the comfy navy blue couch in the corner of the room, suggesting he take a seat.

"Are you busy? I don't want to interrupt..." he slowly sat down on the couch, finding the comfiest spot.

"Not at all! I actually need your help with something, if you're up for it."

He shook his head, a little too eager. "Anything."

"I want to know what Jimin and Yoongi like. Out of all of you, they're the ones I interact with the least, and I really want everyone to feel welcomed here", you stated. "I want to respect their space, but also let them know I want them here."

Taehyung thought about it for a second, looking up as if there was a thought bubble above his head. "Well, Yoongi is a domesticated panther, so he likes cat trees and anything he can scratch or lay on... But Jimin is a little more difficult."

You made a mental note to add that to your shopping list.

"Wait!" He blurted, as if the thought bubble above his head turned into a light bulb. "There is one thing that Jimin loves, but you might not be ready for it."

Your mind automatically went to another place, somewhere Tae was not trying to go. "Nothing like that!" The look on your faced must've been too obvious. Embarrassed, you put your head in your hands to cover the red that crept up your cheeks.

"Jimin really loves scenting", He said plainly, as if you knew what that meant. After a minute of silence he realized you probably needed a definition. Stupid humans, he thought.

"Scenting is really a comfort thing. He's a little more territorial than the others, and I bet he would be pleased if you let him scent you. It's just rubbing scents glands, like your neck or your wrist."

You nodded, taking in all of the notes Taehyung gave you. Maybe this will work, you thought. Can't get any worse, right?

***

That same night, Jimin was in the living room, watching some silly cartoons on the old television. You took it as an opportunity to go and socialize, get to know him better.

"Can I sit?" you asked him, pointing to the spot next to him on the couch. He nodded, scooting over some to give you a little more space.

"You don't have to move, Jimin", you told him. "There's plenty of room here for both of us."

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable", he whispered, never breaking eye contact with the tv. You scoot closer to him, gently overlapping your leg with his.

"Is this okay?" He nodded quickly. You could feel his heart start to race. You could see his mind racing. Something in you made you want to go further, to see how far you could go. You laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping both of your arms around his arm.

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered.

"Trying to get comfortable", you shrugged nonchalantly. Even though you played it off, your heart was also racing. You hadn't been close to anyone this way in such a long time. You felt rusty. "Are you comfortable?"

"N-not really... n-nervous."

You pouted. "Oh... well, Tae told me that scenting helps calm you down. You can scent me, if you want." You kept your attention on the cartoons, but you could see him looking at you startled.

"How do you know what that is?" He questioned. Maybe she doesn't know what she's asking for... this must be too good to be true.

"Taehyung explained it to me briefly. He said it would make you more at ease." You swung your hair to the other side, tilting your neck, as if giving him permission to do as he pleases. "You can scent me if you want to. I don't mind it, really."

You could tell he was contemplating it, his hand easing its way to your waist. "Are you sure? This isn't something I take lightly. Once, you do this, you're mine." Your eyes widen at his choice of words. His darkened.

"O-okay", you whispered. You couldn't speak any louder, for fear that the tremble stuck in your throat would escape. His? You can't possibly become his, not when he already has plenty.

In a sudden haste, he lifted you from the couch and onto his lap. You gasped, clinging onto his shoulders to balance yourself. He then slid his hand behind your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back, giving him perfect access to your sent glands. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he licks a wet stripe down your neck.

"Holy shit, Jimin", you moaned. it was honestly an accident. Tae told you this was supposed to be comforting for him. He didn't say you would enjoy it. Maybe you should've done your own research.

Instinctively, you try and pull away from him, but it seemed that his reflexes were much faster. He continued peppering you in sloppy kisses, mind in a haze. Jimin couldn't think even think clearly. If he could, he would realize that you were now slowing grinding on his lap, subconsciously trying to relieve the tension between your legs.

"What the hell am I doing?" He whispered to himself. he couldn't stop repeating it. And no matter how many times he said it, he still couldn't find the answer.

Then, as if suddenly finding the answer, he shot up from the couch, tossing you from his lap to the seat cushion. His eyes were wide, obviously in distress.

"Jimin, what-"

"I... I c-cant", he stuttered, backing away from you slowly. You tried to reach for him but it only made him more apprehensive. "This was a mistake... I'm so sorry..."

And with that he ran to his sleeping quarters, leaving you sitting in the living room dumbfounded. Guess things could get worse...

-

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[agaypanic]

Hey! Could you do Carlisle Cullen x wife fem!reader where they have a lazy day? Maybe they have a picnic just the two of them and a lovely dinner? Add something if you like. Tag me later. Thanks!!

Where the Sun Don't Shine (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Having a very rare day off of work, Carlisle wants to spend the day with his wife.

***

It was a rare occurrence, Dr. Carlisle Cullen not having to work at the hospital. Usually when it was suggested, Carlisle would refuse to take a break, saying that he didn’t need it as much as anyone else on the staff. Which was true, considering that he didn’t need to sleep and hadn’t done so in centuries. 

But sometimes, even a vampire deserved a break.

“It’s strange to see you in the house this late.” You said as you spotted your husband standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. The kids, though they were far from being kids, were in school. Usually, you had the house to yourself. Carlisle had insisted on that. When you got married about a hundred years ago, he didn’t want you to lift a finger. He made you feel like a queen, your palace being a house surrounded by greenery and away from any wondering eyes. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Carlisle smiled as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He turned, locking his golden eyes with yours.

“I know it’s my day off, but I want to do something.” He said, leaning down just enough to kiss you. “It looks rather nice out, don’t you think?”

You looked out the window. The sky was dim, and the trees were wet; it looked like it had just finished raining.

“How about a picnic?”

***

If anyone in Forks saw you and your husband lounging on the wet grass, a blanket being the only thing to keep your clothes from getting damp, they would’ve thought you were crazy. Today was no day for a sane person to have a picnic and lay about, not with the chilly air and cloudy sky.

But for you and Carlisle, it was absolutely perfect.

The two of you leaned against each other, watching the leaves flutter in the breeze and little critters scurry about the woods surrounding your backyard. 

“Cheers, darling.” Carlisle held up his wine glass, waiting for you to do the same. To anyone else, you were drinking red wine. But the two of you knew better.

“Cheers, love.” You responded, clinking your glass against his and taking a sip. You sighed in delight, you hadn’t fed in a couple of days. When you set your glass down, you noticed that Carlisle had a touch of red on his upper lip. You giggled as you cleaned it up, licking the blood off of the pad of your thumb. “I like it when you have a day off.”

“I do, too.” Carlisle sighed as he laid back on the ground, staring up at the gloomy sky. You moved to his side, partially lying on top of him. As if it was instinct, his hand latched onto your waist to keep you close to him.

“The kids won’t be home for a few more hours.” You say softly, tracing the edge of his jaw with your finger. “Is there anything else you want to do today, Mr. Cullen?”

He looked at you, hunger evident in his eyes. 

“I can think of a few things, Mrs. Cullen.” He replied before kissing you, guiding you to roll onto his back while he settled on top of you.

Maybe Carlisle should take breaks more often.

[birdstudies]

April 27, 2024 - Dusky Robin (Melanodryas vittata) Found in Tasmania and some nearby islands in the Bass Strait, these Australasian robins live in open woodlands, gardens, and heathland. They eat insects and other invertebrates, as well as some seeds, foraging on the ground, dropping onto prey from a perch, or sometimes foraging in vegetation or the air. Breeding from late July to late December, they may raise two broods in a year. Females build cup-shaped nests from grass, bark strips, rootlets, other dry vegetation, fur, and spiderwebs in forked branches or cavities and lay clutches of two to four eggs. They incubate the eggs and brood the chicks. Both parents and helper birds, often from earlier broods, feed the chicks. They are classified as Vulnerable by the IUCN due to rapid population declines over the past ten years.

[dawnoftime22]

"my love, darling, sweetheart."

| W.M ( -> N.R )

Undeserving of a love like yours, Chapter 1

Chapter Warnings: None (series warnings in series masterlist)

Summary: A peaceful day spent with Wanda.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff, for now.

A/N: well here it is finally :] this is an old story of mine I never published that I decided to remake, finish up, and post gradually, that miiight also eventually break your heart...but I hope you all enjoy <3

| Started on 29/12/2023, 11:19 PM |

| Finished on 05/01/2024, 9:28 AM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

“Let the sun kiss your skin softly.”

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

It was a sunny day. The sun kept shining in your eyes, and you had to shield yourself with your hands.

You held your hands out to the sky, as if touching it, but only the wind visits your hand. That is practically the sky, after all. Air. Wind. Moisture. You curl your fingers into a fist, firmly clenching it to perhaps capture the cool breeze, only to feel the warmth of your hand's skin against each other, making the cold fade away.

You end up letting your arm drop down to your side, and sigh. There was nothing better, truly, than soaking in a moment of calmness like this. Upon hearing footsteps though, you await what comes for you.

A familiar brunette appears in your view above, eradicating the sunshine and the bright blue sky. She looked down on you softly, your body laying restfully against the grass that moved along with the wind, but is flat underneath your back.

"I got us cakes," she says, sitting down beside you and putting the container down on the ground. You carefully prop yourself up with your elbows until you're sat up properly.

It was your favorite kind. Your lips turn up into a smile, and you grab the small fork while your legs settled into a criss-crossed position. Your hands reached to open the container, the corners clicking open.

The brunette watched you with amusement as you didn't hesitate to grab it. The bakery you loved was right near the park you're at, so it was the perfect time to go when it caught her eye. The man behind the counter had happily greeted her, knowing she's the partner to one of the patrons. The patron, is of course, you. But it was starting to become her new favorite bakery, too.

Wanda had also gotten a bag of warm freshly baked cookies, so she opted to unravel the top of the paper bag and take one, her cake sitting unopened next to yours.

You hum when the smell of the lovely cookies traveled to your nose, making you turn your head to her instead of your slice of cake. She was taking a bite of the cookie, the piece melting in her mouth.

Your hand leaves the fork in the cake container and goes to grab one for yourself, little crumpling noises making sound from the bag as it moved due to your hand.

While the both of you ate your delicacies, you soon space out far off in the distance of the park. Somewhere near there, someone sat at a bench with birds surrounding them and some seeds in their hand.

Beside the scene was another of a little golden retriever happily playing around with another dog, chasing each other around, and sometimes the two of them would stop, the husky looking dog teasing the other one by moving its paws forward, but not running again.

You soon stop focusing on those and turning your attention back to Wanda, but once you look at her, an irresistible smile grows on your face and you have to turn to your cake instead.

"What?" She asks, a breath of a laugh coming through the word. Wanda wondered why you would turn away so quickly. She knew she could make you blush easily, but she hasn't even said or done anything.

"Nothing, you just have some crumbs near your mouth." You shook your head, taking a spoonful of your cake to put in your mouth and look at her once more.

"Oh." Her hand goes up to wipe it off her face, but she went to the wrong side. Her eyes focused on you, visibly struggling to find it because she knows it's not gone due to simply your smile growing.

"No, the other side." You say, helping her. She gets it and looks at you expectantly. You nod, and put a thumbs up, making her reflect your smile.

"You got it." You finish off the last of your cake, and pop the lid back on. Soon your attention drifts off to the sky and the gold shining through the clouds. Wanda follows, and sees the sun behind you, making you glow like an angel.

"We should go to the lake. We can take some beautiful pictures there." She said, tiltng her head slightly, and you see her brunette hair starting to soak in the sunlight. Your eyes brightened at the sentence though, and a soft gasp comes from you.

"Yes! We should." Her lips rise up into a smile once more, and she grabs the bag of cookies before going to stand up. You follow along with your empty container and hers that still had a cake.

You turn to walk with her towards the nearby lake. Since the sunset was only just starting, you had more than enough time to arrive there. A cool breeze goes by, visiting your skins and your hairs. The water that started to come into your view properly, too, was moving with the wind.

The trees shaped the lake beautifully and openly. Not many people were around, especially because nighttime is soon coming around. But it made it all the more better.

Wanda took out her phone from her pocket and started taking some pictures. You stood by, but placed down the containers at a nearby bench and kneeled down to grab a couple small rocks to keep in the palm of your hand.

A thought to take some pictures, too, crossed your mind, but with the present reason of having forgotten to bring your camera, you decided against it.

You stood up and held only one rock in the other hand, throwing it on the water. It jumped lightly against it and splashed, until it dropped to below the water. Wanda turns her phone to you and you look at her.

"Nooo, don't take pictures of me! Look at the lake!" You point your finger towards it before throwing another rock. She moved her phone along the movement, and you assumed she was not just taking pictures, but videos. That rock went farther than the previous one.

"But you're more beautiful than the lake or the sunset!" She says, and you shake your head with a tinge of blush on your face. Once she was done, she walked closer to you with a smile and put her hand out.

You gave her the rest of the rocks in your hand except for one and she threw them. It only jumped twice and you try your hardest not to laugh or smile too wide.

"Okay, that was only my warmup." She says, looking at you with a warning before preparing for another throw. You only hum in response, knowing that it was an obvious excuse.

Wanda throws another, and it does skip farther, before it splashed entirely and disappeared into the water. The clouds had melted into the skies by now, and the last rock you had, you put into one of your pockets.

"I think that one jumped more than yours." You grabbed the cakes and turned away from the lake, now starting to walk to, perhaps, the car. The brunette was behind you anyways though, the place seemed to get darker, with the sun sinking down in the horizon.

"Nope, it did not." You say softly, glancing at her before focusing on the path towards the car once more. She raised her eyebrows at you. To be honest, the two of you got the same amount of jumps in the water with the rocks.

"Sure it did." She adds, wanting to be right. You were getting closer to the car, and she brought out her keys from her pocket, unlocking the car.

"Nope." You repeat, a playful smile on your face when she managed took a look at it at from her driver side just through the windows. She shakes her head with a smile of her own.

You pull the door handle and it opens. You sit in the passenger's side and close the door, your next move being to click the seatbelt on. Wanda had already done the same, and she's starting the engine.

The car powers up and the screens light on. She makes sure to adjust the ac temperature before moving from off the parking spot and into the main road slowly and carefully.

As the truck tires hit the road, the quiet humming of the car is added with the sound of concrete and small pebbles hitting the tires. You look out the window and watch the other cars pass by. There's people on the side of the street.

A florist, holding a boquet of flowers ready to go in a vase. Or perhaps a bought gift, as they're heading for their bicycle. The warm sunlight shone down on the florist, making out a pretty scene. Oh, dear, moments like these filled your heart with life.

Wanda looks at you softly for a second, seeing you spaced out the window. Her hand goes up to turn on the radio, finding a channel that holds good music. She focuses back on the road once she's gotten it.

The songs were calm. Perhaps even encapturing the entire feeling of today. Trees passed by. Streetlights passed by. The lights are on already, and the moon's showing up. Birds are retreating back to their houses, just as you are currently doing.

You look over to your other side, where Wanda sat, her fingers drumming, and her head nodding along the rhythm of the music. She was...so, so pretty. The car comes to a gentle stop, but you hadn't arrived just yet, only at a red light.

"I can see you staring," she says quietly with her eyes focused on the road. Her foot pushed on the pedal once more when the light turned green, and she went to make a turn.

"It's hard not to," you respond, saying only the truth. She glanced at you again, the corners of her lips raising. Buildings went by in her own window.

That is, until she goes into the driveway of your shared house. The car stops and Wanda slides her seatbelt off along with you. She turns the engine off, and the music turns into a quiet silence.

You grab the cookies and cake then open the door, getting out. She locked the car by the time the both of you had closed the doors, and she had grabbed all the items inside.

With the keys in her hands already retrieved from her pockets, she walks to the front door and inserts the key, unlocking it. You were waiting behind her on the porch, and she enters first with you at her back.

The lights in the house were flicked on by Wanda and she goes back to the front to close the door, considering your hands were full. You got your shoes off and went to place the small desserts in your hand onto the kitchen island.

When you looked behind you, the brunette was choosing a vinyl from her shelf to play, her face concentrated. She chooses one right as you went to sit on the couch, her hand carefully grabbing the disc out its sleeve to gently put on the turntable.

She plays the record and slowly drops the needle down on the vinyl, it eventually playing out a soft, mellow tune, one perfect for dancing.

When you see her walking towards you, you expected nothing more or less than an offer. You smile once she holds her hand out for you, a way to ask you to dance. You hesitate, but you gently take her hand, your body getting pulled up with your heart's answer.

She puts her hands around your waist and starts swaying gently to the music, while you settled with your head on her shoulder, your mind wandering with the thoughts of everything.

Outside, sounds of rainfall starts pattering down. The windows filled with drops of it all, but with the curtains closed you couldn't. Although the noise made it clear that it wasn't the record player, or anything else.

You looked up at Wanda, and you can see her gazing back down at you, her eyes meeting yours softly. A small smile goes on her face, the two of you ever so lost in the love you held.

She whispers softly, "I love you," and your heart did leaps in your chest. You've been together for a while, but she's never said such a sentence until this very moment. It came as a surprise.

"I love you, too." You lean back slightly to look at her more, and you can physically see the happiness that fills her face.

end of chapter 1. <3

Series Masterlist Chapter 2 ->

A/N: I am terribly sorry to say that there won't be this much happiness in the later chapters :')

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

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[vecnuthy]

Operation: Salvage

@steddiemicrofic November prompt: rest | wc: 387 | G | no warnings |

Accidentally sending a forty dollar cheesecake crashing to the kitchen floor obviously hadn't been on Eddie's agenda today, and yet, there Steve's favorite lay - broken and crumpled and sad.

Eddie had gotten it on a whim, just because. He figured Steve would enjoy it. It had been months since Steve's birthday, and even then, he had barely been able to enjoy it because the skies had suddenly opened up, and the cheesecake just....

It hadn't made it.

Now, though, Eddie had some choice words about the structural integrity of the box it had come in. Maybe the cheesecake was cursed. Gotta be it, he thought to himself as he just stood there and stared at the ruined pile of dairy and graham cracker crust. It had been so glorious. Eddie had been so excited for Steve. What a fucking waste.

Unless.....

Steve had just mopped the kitchen yesterday, and he tended to ignore the crust sometimes anyway.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and squinted at the mess. Calculated.

That one area looked pretty intact, roughly about the size of a big slice, even.

Am I really about to....? he questioned as if it weren't his first rodeo. It was forty dollars, though. Eddie blew out a resigned raspberry, then grabbed a knife, a plate, and set to work on Operation: Salvage. He even scooped up the bits that were smashed to hell but hadn't touched the floor and stuck those in the freezer. That would be hard to explain.

The cleanup had been grueling but decidedly worth it as Eddie slid the slice over to Steve after supper.

"Got you something," Eddie grinned, feeling warm and giddy at how Steve's face lit up. Then Steve's face fell.

"Where's the rest of it? You didn't want a piece?"

"Oh, heh. They, um, sell it by the slice, now." Eddie picked up Steve's fork, since he wasn't doing it himself.

"You sure about that?"

Eddie nodded, feeding him a bite. Just eat it.

Steve stared a hole into Eddie as he chewed.

"The floor's sticky."

Eddie took a bite of his own, then found Steve smirking over him, leaning in, kissing, "You dropped it on the ground, didn't you."

"All over it," Eddie breathed against his lips between cheesecake kisses. "Absolutely tragic. Don't look in the trash."

[txemptress]

They call her an odd woman.

Because only an odd woman would spend hours and hours on end by the graveyards without the public knowing what she's doing there.

Because only an odd woman would be seen talking to herself like she is with someone but she is actually alone. Her lips always moving as though she is praying perhaps she was, that's just what the public speculated.

And because only an odd woman would love someone who has been dead for a near decade, someone who was barely her lover in the first place.

She is an odd woman in the eyes of the public. But to her, she is as normal as could be. delusional, perhaps, but still normal.

Fingers clenching the basket of food she brought with her, she gets off of the vehicle. Nodding towards those who were bypassing, she walks into the graveyards once more. She need not tell her servants anything, they know to wait there patiently and leave her be. Only they understand her situation which is private just as how she likes it.

She lays the picnic mat neatly on the moss covered ground as she sits on it and wipes off the dust that covered the gravestone she sits in front of.

Name. She smiles softly, tears pricking in her eyes. Today is the anniversary of his death. "Hello, Name. I brought your favourite food today, shall we eat?" She whispers hoarsely as she takes the food out of the basket, body trembling from the restraint to cry.

"Here." She takes out a little portion of food and faced it to the gravestone while she too takes a little portion. She eats quietly, the silence is deafening and it hurts her. "How is it? It's good, isn't it? The chef made it special for you." Her lips quiver but she stays strong. She will not show her tears.

She glances at the stone, the food before it was untouched. Of course it was. "Not hungry? It's okay, the chef will understand." She pulls the plate away from the stone and carefully packs it back in the basket. There's a pause before she continues to speak.

"Father and Mother miss you a lot. So does your brother." She says as she continues eating, "I miss you too. But I'm trying to stay strong for our Adrianna." Tears glisten in her eyes as she fights back their threatening release.

"Sometimes I see you in my room. I'm not sure if it's you, of course but I'm positive that it is." She gives out a heartbreaking laugh. "Adrianna says she sees you too, she says she misses you a lot." She adds afterwards, putting down the fork she was using to eat. "If only you were there to see her during her first dance, your brother danced her instead. But I think she would've wanted that you were the one to dance with her instead."

She remembers her daughter's words during that night. She had been crying, wanting her daddy instead of her uncle. But Name died years ago so it was impossible. She had tried reasoning by instead they had both found each other clinging onto one another, sobbing.

But, eventually, she did learn to enjoy her party. She was proud of her daughter's ability to mature quickly and make the best out of what she had.

She leans against the stone as her finger traces the engraved name on its face. "Why'd you have to die so soon?" She murmurs quietly. "You promised you'd be back safe and sound but you didn't. We had so many things we wanted to do together. A family to build." She blinks the tears away but it's futile as they began streaming down her tears.

"You promised..." She repeats, choking on the sobs that were escaping her lips. She continues sobbing and shaking uncontrollably while her hand clenches on the stone.

She wiped her tears away and presses a kiss on the stone, wiping her lips afterwards too. "I love you, Name. I still love you. I want you here with me. Please come back to me." She begs softly, even though she knew it was a futile pleading. Suddenly the wind blew breezily to her direction, as though it was an answer from her beloved.

It calms her immediately as her shaking draws to a slow stop. She softly sighs as she moves back, fixing the things. She stares back to the stone and gives a sad smile. "I'll try to visit you on the morrow again if I can."

She stands up, carrying the basket with her. She walks to the entrance of the graveyard where a guard is stationed. She nods to him before she walks out. The coachman waits by the vehicle. He saw her and immediately readied to leave. A step onto the vehicle and then she pauses. One more long glance towards the stone before she turns away and enters the vehicle. Her lips tremble as she hears herself echo two words.

"Goodbye, Name."

➷ ( characters ) — cayena hill , rudbeckia de borgia , psyche callista , penelope eckart , lesley vance , raiden ei , yor forger , mikasa ackerman , sasha braus. ❀

➷ ( tags ) — none. ‘ ask to be tagged ’. ❀

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Homes and hotels

He had nightmares about that night. He heard the screams of his brother still, and the angry growls of the vampires. He still had nightmares about the what ifs. He and his friends could have been killed, or maybe if they had been lucky, they could have managed to kill all the vampires. Maybe they could all have survived, on the condition that they had to be turned into a vampire as well. But none of that happened. No one died. Well, except for Max, that is. But still, as he thought about it, it could have been a lot worse.

He was okay. Mom was okay, even if she was still recovering from a nasty break up with the head vampire. His Grandpa was okay, still happily going out with the widow. And Michael was okay. His relationship with Star had watered a little after the whole affair, but things were looking up for them.

Yeah, Sam sighed as he got out of the bathroom. Things could have been way worse. Max was dead, Michael was human again. Things were almost like before. Almost, because now they sometimes had random immortal visitors bugging them. Lucy didn't mind. She had come to like the boys and adored doting on them. Michael didn't mind, beginning to see them as friends. Sam, however, did mind. He didn't like vampires before, and he definitely didn't like them now.

This morning, he didn't think about vampires, however. He thought about how he finally had gotten access to a TV and that he was home alone this very morning. Mom had worked a lot, and since Sam had helped rebuild the house, she had decided that this was a proper - yet expensive - thank you for all the work he had done. So, Sam got dressed, styled his hair, sprayed on some hairspray, and practically jumped down the stairs, happy to finally enjoy the wonderful world of MTV once again.

He ran into the kitchen. He quickly grabbed a bowl and filled it with cereal, and quickly splashed some milk on top of it. He searched for a spoon, but when he couldn't find any, he settled for a fork. He ran to the couch, jumping over the back and landed-

"What the hell man?!"

Sam jumped up, dropping his cereal. The couch wasn't empty. Instead, a very grouchy, very tired, very familiar vampire lay on the couch.

"You?! What are you doing here?" Sam demanded, grabbing his fork of the ground, pointing it at the vampire.

"Sleeping?" Paul said sheepishly, chuckling at the fork Sam was holding. "You know that won't work right?"

"Shut up, I still got the stakes in my room!"

"Good for you kid."

"Why are you here?" Sam demanded.

"Like I said, I was sleeping!"

"This ain't a hotel, bud! Get back to the cave!"

"I can't." Paul shrugged.

"Why not? Are they mad at you?"

Paul chuckled. "No?"

"Then why don't you go? This isn't even your house? Come on, man, a couple of weeks ago you were ready and happy to kill me!"

"People change?"

"Yeah, right," Sam sighed, cleaning up the spilt cereal. As he cleaned the final bit of milk of the ground he shook his head when he saw Paul rolling a joint. "Absolutely not."

He quickly grabbed it, throwing it out with the cereal - causing Paul to whine.

"Not fair! That shit is expensive!"

"Yeah, well, we don't smoke here."

"Fine," Paul sighed, getting ready to roll another one. He was about to light it when Sam turned around, ready to grab it once again.

"No smoking! If you want to smoke you go outside!"

"I can't!"

Sam stopped, realising that Paul was right. The sun was up.

"Well, the least you can do is move so I can watch some tee-"

Sam sighed, realising that the loud snores were not faked. The vampire had fallen asleep again

"He's bloody impossible," mumbled Sam as he made sure all of the curtains were closed. "Rude ass vampire. Yeah, join a gang, Mike! It will be fun!" He sat down on the couch, folding Paul up so his spot was free. Paul's head lay not at his feet, but he just continued sleeping.

"Not like all of those weird undead friends of yours will use our house as a hotel when they bloody live in one!" Sam continued as he reached for the remote controller, turning the TV on.

"Your couch is better!" Paul mumbled.

"Go back to sleep."

"I thought you wanted me to go?" Paul moved to sit more comfortably.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Why, why am I the one with a family that walks right into the arms of a bunch of vampires?"

"Cause your tasty?"

"What?!" Sam shrieked, jumping off the couch, causing Paul to burst out in laughter.

"Nothing."

"I remind you, I still have those stakes!"

Sam sighed as he realised Paul had once again fallen asleep. As he finally turned the telly on, turning the channel to mtv, he noticed an empty bottle of liquor laying next to the couch.

"Great." He mumbled. "With my luck, I'll be dealing with a hungover vampire later."

[milestacy]

wanted a lil domestic fluff with hobie brown and I decided to add a small twist to the end.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, hobie making you breakfast, small plot twist, reader’s gender not specified.

wc. 877. requests. masterlist.

It should have been ironic. It was ironic, getting a brown apartment with Hobie Brown.

Nevermind, the word was completely wrong, ironic meant something similar to ‘opposite’ and getting a brown apartment with Hobie Brown was congruent to his last name. But you were never the expert with words, no. Hobie was. Especially when it came to his music. But you didn’t have to worry so much about words. It wasn’t important in your line of work.

You asked do you like it? When you first bought it even though it wasn’t actually his and you didn’t actually live with Hobie Brown.

I like it, he said. His eyes have already been hanging up posters on the light brown walls as they moved around the room, painting them in his gaze completely. Well, not completely. There had to be some place you could hide yourself.

You didn’t actually live with Hobie Brown but you had to ask because he comes and crashes all the time. Not that it was a bad thing—yes, your flesh was pressed so deeply into your rib cage when he would jump into bed on top of you, not with you, his weight completely compressing you into a third of whatever space you normally took up. You always let him because you had to, else he could find out.

Make it simple, he would say, when he would try to make you pancakes for breakfast every morning but it always tasted so off you never finished everything. Neither did he. Sometimes, it wasn’t because it tasted bad.

But you disagree. It’s never simple. Good things in life never come so simply to you.

I know, he replied. And he smiled. Shirtless and still gutting his pancakes with a fork, he chortled. But aren’t I a good thing?

Of course you are, you rebutted. Your pancakes still laid half finished on the white ceramic plate. A colorful yet very blackened poster of The Beatles hung over your very slim dining table.

The news buzzed softly in the background but you heard it like the bustling cries of London; a museum is under attack.

Your fingers gripped the chipped wood. Your hands and arms were steel screwed to your chair but the rest of your body was electrified.

And us, he began, getting out of his seat so abruptly the entire table shook.

We are simple, right?

Your mouth hung open, lips quivering at the empty ice holding your jaw apart.

Hobie, I have to go.

And then you correct yourself, because in this line of work, you always have to. There’s always a tunnel you have to go through, one dark and grimy, because if you swing up and leave in the light of day the world will collapse. Specifically your world.

Go ummm … change.

You rushed into your room, table clattering at your movement.

Into your spiderman suit?

Your hands slipped from the door, a screeching halt, not just to your legs but to the blood coursing through you, ice cold, the hairs on your arm now stretching for any sign of warmth.

Your eyes flickered. They’re glassy because your eyelids close over them and feel a fragile but rigid surface. You see the ghost of all the furniture in your room, and they’re dancing.

You turn.

He’s standing there as if the ground didn’t shake. As if the walls didn’t collapse. He’s so skinny, you imagined a pile of bones might lay where he once stood after he’d dropped that shattering weight.

Make it simple, he repeated again.

It’s okay.

But your knees were still bent, because you fear that if you stand completely straight you’ll find you can’t handle your own weight. Your hands moistened every surface it swept. He stood there looking.

Hobie, it’s not simple. Something cold hits your cheek.

I know, he said. He took a step forward, and you couldn’t take a step back. He’s holding his hands up like he’s the one being held at gunpoint.

I know.

Another step forward. His hands go a little higher, and he’s showing you his palms.

That’s why you gotta make it simple.

And now his hand was cupping yours, and his hand is slipping into your moist palms and now his fingers are curled around your hand.

You forgot just how long his arms were, how lanky and tall he’d been.

You’re stressed.

He gave your hand a little squeeze.

You care about these people.

The reporter’s boxy voice rings over the shock. But the shock muzzles it right back into the carpeted floors.

That’s all it is.

He drew closer. He casted his shadow on you, and it was dark for a moment and you finally felt warmth encase you when his shadow rose over you like a blanket.

His lips met your cheek, colder than you thought it would be, and he almost took a piece of you with him when he was finished.

There’s nothing else to it.

His grip loosened on your hand.

He looked past you and cocked his head a little to the left of you.

The window sat with the wind in its hair, sitting open and pretty with faint colors of buildings shining through it.

Of course it’s simple.

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

The Cove

Seth Clearwater x GN Siren!Reader {1.6k+}

Requested - @siriusblacksgf

DO NOT POST MY WORK TO OTHER SITES OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN. I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OF TWILIGHT.

Summary: Seth defies his Alpha's orders and decides to take a trip to the side of the forest he has never visited, only to be met with a place he never knew existed.

WARNINGS: TWILIGHT AU // MYTHICAL CREATURES // NOT PROOF READ.

Deep, down inside Forks Washington was a forest few had ever seen, there lived two clans apart of the supernatural world. The shifters and Vampires had lived opposite each other for quite sometime now, only a river stream separating them. They knew the other existed but what they didn't know, was somewhere deeper and darker into the forest was a cove, it was magical yet some would also describe it as melancholic, like the air was poisoned with the utmost poignancy. Within that cove, was icy water that looked like it went down into the deepest, darkest abyss. One fateful soul was crazy enough to be enticed by the lack of knowledge he had of this part of Forks, so on a fateful Tuesday night, Seth had strayed away from his pack; Sam howled out to the young wolf hoping he would respond and make his way back to the rest of the shifters but his call was never answered.

Seth Clearwater, the youngest of Harry Clearwater's two children, had come up with the bright idea of walking along the treaty line to the edge of the forest, he was always warned by Paul and Sam to never ever cross pass this specific area - there's something out there that hunts our kind - was something Sam kept telling the young boy, trying to get it into his head but of course - Seth needed to see for himself. Every step he took, dead branches from the once lively trees had crunched under his shoes The young boy was scared, of course he was but he kept reminding himself that he was one of few that possessed the gift of shapeshifting into a big ass wolf. The further he ventured, the more the temperature started to drop but that wasn't the issue, the fog had appeared out of nowhere; a thick layer had covered the ground beneath his feet, absorbing everything in its wake - including Seth's legs.

The rustling of leaves and broken twigs crunching had stirred the creature awake, they had been laying on a ledge beside the water. Their fin now swishing from side to side in the pool below, the mist rising above now sitting just atop the water, batting droplets around the small cove. The creature had pushed themself back into the inlet, their body now covered by the murky air around. The trees whispered all around, gossiping to their fellows about the unwanted guest in their midst. The creature was on high alert, they knew of the other supernatural beings that resided within the gloomy town; they had even befriend some of those that lived within her area of the forest - they were mostly just imps that had inhabited the trees high above and one of the last Kelpie's that were still around, they protected Forks forest and the people who lived peacefully in the small rainy state.

The smell of oak wood and wet logs had filled the air around the cove, he was near. Out of instinct, the fish like creature had honed in on their powers and started singing - it was hauntingly beautiful. Seth had heard the quiet melody not too far from his spot near a creek. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, the wolf within him on high alert but all his wolfy instincts went out the window when the singing started to get louder - his whole body feeling like it was no longer in his control, his feet having a mind of their own as they took slow steps towards a cave like system in the distance. Seth had followed the creek all the way to the secluded cove, the atmosphere growing more eerie with every step he took. As the singing grew louder, the sky had darkened - trees thrashed around with the heavy winds, a storm was incoming but that wasn't what was unusual, the wailing in the distance was the issue; the sound itself was distorted; like something out of an old horror movie. The wailing had come to a stop when Seth had come face to face with a black horse like creature stood outside the opening of the cove, it's mane was soaked with water; small pieces of moss and tree bark were littered across it's body in a form of camouflage, it was nothing Seth had ever seen.

The black horse had let out a low whine, a signal to whoever was near to let them know the trespasser was found. Ripples in the creek below had formed, something was in the water and Seth was sure he was about to meet his end. Everything in the forest had stilled, the once full of life woods had died down and become silent - enough to hear a pin drop. The young shapeshifter still had his eyes trained on the horse in front of him, it's eyes narrowed at the young boy's figure - a snarl evident on it's face. Before either supernatural could do anything, a body had surfaced from under the murky water. A black fin with yellow and purple flecks had swept under the poor boys feet causing him to fall to the ground. Seth was now eye level with the water creature, they were ethereal to say the least. Their hair was long and wet, skin pale with a blue tint but what caught Seth's eye was their hands - the creature had webbed finger with long pointy nails as black as onyx. "Holy shit.. it's a mermaid. Oh my god it's a freaking mermaid." The young wolf stared at the water person in awe, his eyes blown with wonderment. The creature hissed at him, small razor like teeth gleaming under the moonlight. "I. Am. Not. A. Mermaid." Their voice was velvety, almost intoxicating.

Seth had flinched at the creatures words, he never meant to insult them, he was merely just curious as to how these beings lived in the same forest as him. Seth had squeaked out a tiny "sorry", fearful if he spoke any louder he would offend them even more. The creature glided through the water, closing the distance between the pair. Their long pale arms now crossed and lay upon the edge of the creek, their chin laying gently on the supple flesh. "I'm sorry... I just hate how everyone sees me as a mermaid and not what I really am. I'm Y/n and I'm a siren." Y/n's voice was more cautious now, scared they would make the boy run off. "Why are you here? This is not a place for those outside of the supernatural realm to be, you should go home it's not safe." Seth cocked his head to the side, completely forgetting he wasn't in his wolf form. The boy stood up and took a few deep breaths, focusing on the beating of his heart and then he just shifted. A sandy coloured wolf now stood on all fours in front of the siren, it was now their turn to stare in awe - their eyes wide as a smile grew on their face. "You're a shapeshifter... of course you are, I've seen many just like you." The siren lifted their hand in an attempt to touch the soft fur of the wolf but the shifter had backed away every so slightly.

The siren didn't mind the young wolf's hesitation, they understood how terrifying it was for them to meet another supernatural for the first time. But the black horse, who Seth found out was a Kelpie and was named Oslo, had other feelings about the boy. He didn't particularly like him, not because he was a shifter - no, it was because he had caught the siren's attention. Oslo hated not having Y/n's attention all to himself, he loathed anyone that even looked the siren's way. So, the wise Kelpie had gotten up close to Seth; their snouts barely touching, and then Oslo had attacked him; it had all happened in seconds. The siren had screamed in horror, tears brimming the edges of their eyes as they stared at her new found mystical friend and her protector trying to sink their teeth into one another. The siren had shouted for Oslo to stop but he had ignored all of their protests, and instead decided to use the trick up his sleeve. Now, you may be think - what could Oslo do that would surprise Seth? Well, Kelpie's are known to be water creatures who can shapeshift into any form they desire but they also possess the ability to manipulate water.

So, Oslo being extremely cunning, he had shifted into a water spirit. Y/n knew that trying to manipulate the elements would ultimately turn into something very, very bad. The siren had devised a plan to help Seth to the best of their abilities, so they screamed as loud as they could. Siren's are known to have powerful voices, they could seduce anyone they wanted but what no one knew was Siren's could harm Kelpie's by just using their voice. The scream that erupted out of the siren had caused Oslo to shift back into his natural form, his body now crumpled to the ground withering in pain. "You do not hurt him, we are the protectors of everything supernatural. Your jealousy does not give you the right to hurt one of our own." Malice had dripped from every word spoken, it sent a shiver down Seth's spine without a warning. The siren turned to the shifter, an apologetic smile on their face "I'm sorry on his behalf." They said, pointing to the Kelpie still curled up on the floor "It's best if you go home, your pack must be worried about you." Seth could only nod his head - he didn't want to go just yet, there was still so much to see and learn about this part of the forest but most importantly, he wanted to know Y/n better.

If only the young wolf could actually verbalise his thoughts.

[witchy789]

JEALOUSLY * sanji x fem! reader fic

You and your boyfriend Sanji were a happy couple. never had any problems, but that was until he realized someone else had caught your eye.

The Thousand Sunny glided smoothly over the azure waves, the sun casting a golden glow on the deck. The crew of the Straw Hat Pirates was enjoying a rare moment of peace. Y/N laughed, the sound carrying on the warm breeze as they sparred with Zoro, their swords clashing rhythmically. Sanji, who had been in the kitchen preparing lunch, stepped out onto the deck. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Y/N and Zoro. The two were grinning, completely engrossed in their practice. Zoro’s usually stern face was softened with amusement, and Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Sanji felt a pang of jealousy twist in his chest. He clenched his jaw and lit a cigarette, trying to quell the growing irritation. He couldn’t stand seeing them so close. Zoro was his rival, and the thought of him spending so much time with Y/N made Sanji’s blood boil.

“Oi, marimo!” Sanji called out, his voice sharper than he intended. “Lunch is ready.” Zoro paused, wiping sweat from his brow. “Alright, cook. No need to yell.”

Y/N sheathed their sword, smiling at Sanji. “We’ll be right there, Sanji.” Sanji’s heart softened a bit at Y/N’s smile, but the jealousy still gnawed at him. He turned and stalked back to the kitchen, his thoughts racing. He knew he had no reason to doubt Y/N’s affection, but seeing them with Zoro ignited a possessiveness he couldn’t control. As the crew gathered around the table, Sanji’s mood didn’t go unnoticed. Nami nudged him. “What’s with the long face, love-cook?”

“Nothing,” Sanji muttered, casting a quick glance at Y/N, who was chatting animatedly with Zoro. “Just tired.”

Luffy, oblivious to the tension, happily devoured his food. “This is great, Sanji!” Y/N’s laughter rang out again, and Sanji’s grip on his fork tightened. He couldn’t hold back any longer. After dinner, as everyone dispersed, he caught Y/N’s arm gently. Can we talk?” Sanji asked, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. Y/N nodded, concern flashing in their eyes. They followed him to a quieter spot on the deck. “What’s wrong, Sanji?”

Sanji took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I… I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you with Zoro.” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sanji, you know you’re the one I care about.”I know,” Sanji said quickly. “But seeing you two together, laughing and sparring, it just… it makes me feel like I’m losing you.”

Y/N stepped closer, placing a hand on Sanji’s cheek. “You’re not losing me, Sanji. Zoro is just a friend. You’re the one I love.”Sanji’s heart swelled at their words. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling them close. “I’m sorry. I trust you, really. It’s just… hard sometimes.”

Y/N smiled up at him, their eyes filled with affection. “I understand. But you have nothing to worry about. You’re the only one for me.” Sanji leaned down, capturing their lips in a tender kiss. The jealousy melted away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. He knew that as long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

From a distance, Zoro watched them, a small smile playing on his lips. He respected the bond they shared, and he had no intention of coming between them. The crew of the Straw Hat Pirates was like a family, and family looked out for each other. Sanji and Y/N stood on the deck, wrapped in each other’s embrace, as the Thousand Sunny sailed towards new adventures. The sea was vast and unpredictable, but their love was an anchor that kept them grounded, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

THE END!!!

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — hell house #20

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: multiple whumpers, sadistic whumpers, nailed to the ground, blood loss, gunshot wounds, beating, knife wounds, whumper sort of caretaking, mentioned (and almost) non-con (nothing explicit), non-con touching (not sexual), waterboarding, cigerette burn, mention of attempted suicide

Leo was confident he was going to die when he was left on the ground.

Time wasn’t distinct, and nor was it manageable, losing it just as easily the moment his weary eyes even found the energy to pry themselves open. Being awake was just as unbearable as the inevitable reality that his legs had been shot, and his hands had been nailed against the ground.

An unbearable wave of dizziness smacked into him anytime he tried to lift his head, stuffed with cotton. His breathing was nothing but short spurts, unable to conjure the energy to do anything else.

Sometimes, when Bran wandered into the kitchen for a beer, he’d make a clear point of crushing the bullet wound on his leg for good measure, and Leo’s vision would spark white in agony.

It was only when the neutral face of Beer came into his view that Leo’s clammy, uncoloured face was able to find the energy to move. He’d come with a hammer in his hand, and Leo’s palms immediately flared from the memory.

His face wrinkled as a quiet whimper escaped, and his head tilted away from the man. He didn’t think he’d be able to take any more nails in his body, or pain in general. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it, unless they wanted his aching, empty belly to spill it’s contents on the floor.

Beer raised a brow, his eyes flickering to the hammer, and then the nails. He kneeled down beside him, seemingly unbothered he was stepping in slippery blood. From the kitchen door, sipping a beer, Bran sneered at him.

“You ain’t no fun.”

Using the forked end of the hammer, Beer hooked it between the nail, and began to pry it out with a firm jerk. Leo’s lips quivered open with a pained whine, eyes watering.

“Do you want him to die?” Beer countered sternly, and there was even a hint of annoyance in his eyes as he glanced up at Bran. “Roy won’t hesitate to kill you if you’re responsible, you know. We all know that. I wouldn’t test his patience.”

Bran took a long sip of his beer, and with a sickening squish, the nail tore from his hand. His arm lay there limply, a strangled cry choking in his throat. He feebly tried to move away from Beer’s grip, but the other had no problem preparing to dig out the second nail.

“Like I said before,” he sneered. “Roy ain’t here, Joey.”

“And when he is?” The man countered. Leo could barely register their conversation, his vision blurring through layers of static as the nail wedged uncomfortably out of his hand. An exhausted sob escaped his lips. Bran’s eyes narrowed.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want with him,” the man sneered. “He’ll live. Roy doesn’t need to get his balls in a twist, and neither do you. He told us not to kill him, and does he look dead to you?”

Joey didn’t respond. He simply grabbed Leo’e arm, and hurled him up off the ground. The pain in his legs surged like fire from the sudden movement, but he couldn’t even cling onto anything with the numb throbbing in his hands. Fresh blood was streaming down arms, accompanied by tears tracking down his face and running through the dried blood.

“He will be if you keep this up,” he mumbled. “When Roy comes back and he finds it doesn’t sit right with him that other people are messing with his things, you know you’ll be the first.”

Bran scoffed. “Go on. Keep suckin’ up to the maniac. He ain’t care as long as his little pet is alive.”

Joey slowly made his way up the stairs. “I don’t think so.”

He took a wild guess as to where Leo’s room was. He felt his back hitting the bedsheets, sucking in a sharp hiss through his teeth as the pain sparked to life again. He was sure he lost time between the finger light touches on his body, because the next time he woke up, the dizziness had somewhat subsided and his breathing had returned back to normal.

His legs and hands had been bandaged up, and he was even able to flex his tingling fingers. He was alone in his room, and he was sure he was stocked on a lot of painkillers, because he couldn’t help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

Night came and went, and Leo slept through most of the day. In the afternoon when he’d shakily taken more painkillers, he realised that he was ultimately failing to complete the rule that Roy had implemented. He hadn’t cooked at all for them — he could hardly even hold a cup with the state of his hands, let alone stand around on his legs over a hot stove. Using crutches was impossible.

The secretary didn’t get much peace for a while.

Mercenary after mercenary would come into his room, and Leo often found himself meeting their fists or their ruthless beatings. Bran liked doing that the most, making it hurt enough but avoiding his wounds to keep him conscious for long enough. Finger often liked to use little knives or daggers and glide them along his skin to watch him squirm. He’d one time been abruptly ripped from unconsciousness and found the fingerless man in the midst of unbuttoning his pants. He was almost relieved and utterly sickened when he’d stopped to complain he would have preferred if he’d stayed asleep.

Beard wasn’t so much interested, though Leo had been dragged out of his room multiple times by him and abruptly thrown into whatever room the others were in. Although Bran was huge and meaty, his hits like being pummeled with a brick wall, there was something horrific about Beard’s methods. He usually had an audience, and Leo was forced to listen to the humiliating jeers of the other men in the background.

Often his time felt like torture.

Secured tightly to a chair, his bruises and cuts that had been left to bloom on his skin irritatied by the raw bite of the ropes. A rag over his face, and the rush of cold water that made it impossible to breathe. The suffocation that had made his mind short circuit and his lungs burn like fire. No matter how much he’d writhe and thrash, he could never breathe through the water soaked cloth over his face.

Leo just wanted to go home. The echoes of the men’s degrading words and heckles kept him awake when he needed sleep the most. The only rest he got was when the passed out from the pain or the exhaustion.

Joey didn’t bother him like the others, but he often joined in sometimes on their jeers and would be more than happy to watch when Beard wanted to put on a show. He had put out a cigerette on his shoulder one time, the hot ash searing through his skin, but other than that, the mercenary would sometimes patch up his wounds and feed him a little something when he was on the brink of collapse, ensuring he stayed alive just enough for their torure to continue.

In his state, Leo couldn’t even walk by himself.

It was pathetic. It made him feel horrible, and weak.

He barely ever made it to the bedroom; he would usually be left wheezing in whichever room he was dragged into, not even able to muster the strength to get to his feet. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Roy had left. Maybe weeks. Maybe a month. He just knew he couldn’t take much more.

One time, Leo made it into the kitchen. The tiles were cold under his battered limbs, but he’d shakily tugged open the drawer and pulled out a big knife. It clattered loudly to the ground, his hands too weak to barely even grasp onto it. When he did, the door creaked open.

It was Joey. He was looking at him with a cold glint in his eyes.

“You won’t be able to do any damage to all four of us in that state,” he murmurs dryly, and Leo just barely squints through the spots on his vision. Even though he’s leaning on the counter, he hasn’t stood on his feet this long.

“You’re always saying that Roy said I can’t die,” he wheezes. The knife trembled in his hands, eyes burning with tears. “So I’ll kill myself.”

Joey doesn’t react to the words. Leo can feel himself shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks. Maybe he won’t ever see his father again, but at least he’ll be free from this hellhole. Maybe Roy will kill them for breaking his rules. The very idea makes his heart squeeze painfully. He keeps the knife pointed at Joey anyway, trying to fight the crippling fear in his stomach.

“Do you think you can do that?”

No, Leo thinks to himself, stuttering on a sob. The thought of plunging that knife into his body makes his cells scream in terror. He’s a coward.

“I just want to go home,” he sobs, chest stuttering. He’s so exhausted. “I just want this to end.”

Joey doesn’t say anything. He strolls up to him and takes the knife from his weak fingers, putting it back in the drawer. If Roy was here, he would probably be sinking into the soothing whisper of his voice, or melting at his warm embrace. Maybe running his hands through his hair, or gently stroking away his tears. Leo needed something. He needed anything to keep him going.

“I won’t tell the others about this,” Joey says, his voice as emotionless as ever. “Don’t pull this stunt if you won’t go through with it. You’ll get yourself into more trouble.”

Leo aches for anything. Anything at all.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235

[revelisms]

There's something she will not admit—not in the heartbeat of his steps, the vulture-silhouette shark-teethed smoke-rotted shadow, the humor that gristles dry as bone and bites at any mind not sharp enough to follow—that stands as something of a reminder, of a memory, of a man she loved and loathes.

Their father, soot-greased and weary, clapping his lunchpail upon the table with enough force to rattle the screws.

Their father, with a voice that would twist the shadows to gripes of expectation, of need, of weakness—

Lettie?

Lettie?

Lettie?

—haunting her worse than Powder's murmurings of Mom? and their mother's gentle chidings of Violet—help us with dinner, now—

And they're all gone, all of them—

(Nearly.)

All except him, who glowers from a head above her, with eyes that don't match: a bastardization of Vander's accented vowels on his tongue; a mockery of Vander's music on the turnstile; a restripped, restructured other of Vander's bar beneath his hands.

Temper like hellfire and patience thin enough to match. (Like Dad.)

Ambition all-encompassing as a cosmic portal, fueled by a narcissistic self-reliance that glowed like a pyre. (Like Dad.)

An awkward kindness hidden beneath the layers: a gentleness in the scar-scrapped roughness in his hands: a tenderness in the slow lay of his palm, like touching a cracked, shivering thing sooner to break. (Like Dad.)

A ruthless determination in the ways the cogs of the world could be smelted and reshaped: in the power of number, of sheer demand, of purpose. (Not like Dad, at all.)

And Vi can't wrestle with it, the way she sometimes sees shadows of him in a face that doesn't fit. In the way the ugly, scar-crooked lines of his mouth would lift, just so, at a joke that landed well enough. In the way he stood tall in a reign of smog, regal as a king, greatcoat flaring, pistol at his side, stepping without a thought before her and her sister.

She hated him.

But he made dinner for her.

Toiled over that little stove in the ground floor kitchen, a towel tossed over his shoulder and a cigarette behind his ear, reports piled a mountain high on the dining table, but time still being found for this—with Vi's bloodied fists fresh-cleaned and thumbing through the first pages of his accounts, and him chopping herbs with a dangerous ease of the knife, in a way that is both her mother, both Vander, and neither of them, at all.

"You're drifting," he snipes to her.

Vi startles. Scans the page quickly again, to pick up where she left off.

"Seinith," he reminds her. His knife scrapes the herbs into a fragrant pan simmering with smuggled goods—chicken and leafy greens and potatoes and more spices than she can count. "Do you want to learn this business, or stay a scrapper for the rest of your days?"

Her mouth twists.

Scrapper; Scraps. The terms he'd chosen to christen her with, as a bland reminder of where her strengths laid; where she'd come from.

She flicks the page. "He's an upcoming heir to the refineries on the North Bank. Word is he's already behind the helm—probably has been, for years."

"Always was," he grouses.

"But never in the public eye."

A shift in his tone. "Correct."

And he's not Dad. Not Vander. Not whatever it is her sister sees in him, past the scaled, blood-stained exterior, the hellishness Vi can't ignore, the inhumanity caked into his very resolve.

But he brings her dinner on a clean plate, tacked lightly to the table before her, and hesitates—as though in another moment, another lifetime, as another man, he may have planted his palm upon her hair and tussled it.

He doesn't.

But he swipes the towel from his shoulder, cleans idly at his hands, and muddles at her: "Eat. Take some time."

Vi flicks her fork between her fingers: mock-solute.

He doesn't smile.

(Nearly.)

vi, on silco / shadows

[inherstars]

Gears of War | Rise and Fall (Part 1 of 3)

J.D. has the pleasure of being sick during a necessary day hike to the Outsider camp's summit. Kait has the pleasure of trying to convince him it doesn't have to be all bad.

It was going to be a beautiful day, or it wasn’t.  Kait wasn’t sure which way the wind would blow.

On one hand, it was early Bounty, arguably her favorite time of year.  The trees in the mountains surrounding camp hadn’t yet lost the fullness of their summer growth, but in the breeze they whispered with warm autumnal bronze and gold.  The days were still warm but the mornings and afternoons cool. There was no hour of the day when she didn’t feel glad to be alive.

On the other hand, the primary communications relay was down, and it needed fixing.  That meant a steep hike up to the radio tower at the North Summit.  She, J.D. and Del drew the short straws during morning assignments, but then Del got tagged in to help with generator repairs at the dam.  So now it was just her and J.D.

Which was… yay?  Sometimes?

But also…

J.D. sneezed seven times at breakfast in the commissary hall.  Not over the course of breakfast, but seven times consecutively, folding his arms on the table and hiding his face against them until the fit subsided into a growl of annoyance and a furious, animal scrub of his wrist against his nose.

“Ughhhstop,” he complained. Kait sipped her coffee, unsure if she should be amused or sympathetic. Mm… no, definitely amused.

“Are you done?”

He sniffled, picking up both his head and his fork, and sent her a squinting look.

“It seems like there should be a nicer response to someone than that. Hm. What could it be?”

She smiled, but used the mug to hide it.  “I’m pretty sure ‘are you done’ is appropriate, under the circumstances.  You know… if you’re not feeling well, I can--”

He forked his eggs and fed himself with almost aggressive good humor, still sniffling.

“Who said I’m not feeling well?”

“I mean…”  She extended a hand to him, gesturing it up and down.  J.D. shrugged, reaching for his coffee.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, but… all I’m saying is--”

“Totally fine,” as he sipped, making direct and contradictory eye contact with her.  “Are you finished eating your… breakfast seeds and…foraged sticks, or whatever that is?”

Kait looked down at her breakfast, then back at him.

“It’s a grain bowl.”

“Seeds and sticks.  Are you done ruminating on them, or can we go?”  He finished his coffee with a deep swallow, setting the mug aside.  And sniffled again, aggressive.  “I hate this time of year.  I just want to get this done, get back, and sleep until the weather decides what the hell it wants to do.”

A beautiful day, or not.  Tipping towards not.

J.D. was built and conditioned for treks, but not so much hikes.  Kait spent her entire childhood clambering rock formations and wading chest-high through thickets of nettle and milkweed, but J.D.’s experience lay firmly on level ground.  Asphalt and rubble.  He could navigate an urban landscape using clocktowers and historical landmarks like stars, but the stony, uphill trudge along the steep, furrowed trail was a different kind of monster.

Neither his mood nor his physical condition improved, though he masked both with the aplomb of sarcasm.  Kait let him opine snarkily on everything from burrs and poison ivy to the infuriating, persistent cheerfulness of songbirds -- who has that much to sing about? -- pausing more often than she really needed so that he could catch his breath.

“We can rest for awhile,” she offered, more than once.  “Sit down, have some water--”

He waved her off, then fisted a hand at his hip as he leaned heavily on a tree trunk.

“M’fine. Look at me.  Prime of my life.”  A few panting breaths.  He wagged a forefinger at her. “...second wind incoming. Please hold.”

Her arms folded.  “Aren’t you, like, twenty four years old?”

He doubled over, hands on this knees, chest heaving.

“Second wind.  Here it comes.”

She’d hoped to make the summit by mid-morning, but it was closer to midday by the time the radio tower came into view above them.  J.D. laughed weakly in relief, then groaned, bracing himself again on the nearest tree.

“Uh--Kait--”

“Come on,” she urged, looking back and down at him. “We’re so close.”

“Okay, I just--”  He twisted stiffly into an upraised arm, buckling against the tree as he sneezed.  Once, twice, then five more times in helpless succession.  He growled and scrubbed his nose again as it finally passed.  “UGH, STOP!”

“J.D.!”  Kait hopped the tiered stone back down to him, pressing a hand to his arm.  “Bless you!  Listen, I’m serious, if you’re not--”

“All good.”  Again.  Determined.  After another deep sniffle, chased by a small, tight cough, he even squared up with a smile.  Thoroughly convincing.  “See?”

“If you’re sick--”

“Not sick.  Gosh, I love hiking.  Let’s continue to hike, please.”

Kait let all the air out of her lungs, sizing him up, as much to give him a moment to recompose as to give herself a moment to think.  She shrugged from her pack, dropping it at her feet, and after a rummaging search she offered a handkerchief from within.  J.D. almost declined, but she was already rolling back into her pack straps, and there was no sense in giving it back.

“Stay here,” she ordered. “I’m going to go up and check on the relay.”

“Ah--wait, Kait no, we should both--”

“Somebody has to climb the tower,” she corrected.  “And you’re in no condition.  I can do it in five minutes.  If I need your help repairing anything, well… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”  She backed from him, brows up. “Watch the trail for Fire Bears.”

J.D. took a hesitating step after her, suddenly unsure which end of the stick he’d been handed was the shit-covered one.

“Wh--Kait, hang on---what the fuck is a Fire Bear.  KAIT.”

She was already out of sight beyond the bend in the trail, casually raising a farewell hand to him as she climbed.

“Can’t hear you, sorry!”

It was a short climb to the North Summit, the clearing that overlooked the vast, forested valleys warm in the afternoon sun.  Time was of the essence, the camp was essentially cut off from outside communications until the relay could be restored, but she gave herself the grace of a few minutes to just stand there, holding her pack straps and watching the wind blush the trees with color, silvering the wheatgrass meadows.

Eventually she dropped her pack at the tower’s base, scaling the ringing aluminum ladder up and up, letting the summit shrink beneath her.  To her great relief, it was a simple problem with an equally simple fix: a pair of rock doves had built one of their sad little nests in the relay receiver, and she needed only to scoop out the handfuls of sticks, and straw, and -- hilariously -- a shredded page from an old pornographic magazine -- to put it to rights.

She climbed back down, neatly jumping the last dozen feet, then threw her bag back onto her shoulders.

“J.D.,” she called as she descended, hopping from rock to rock.  He watched her mountain-goat routine with a combination of admiration and terror.  Please don’t break your neck, I don’t know how the fuck to get back on my own.

“What’d you find?”

“Bird nest,” she reported, then nodded to him as she met him at the tree.  “Check the signal, see if that fixed it.”

He pulled a clunky receiver from one pocket, adjusting the dial receiver as the sine wave display wriggled and danced, refusing to flatline.

“Looks good,” he agreed, immediately cheered. “Also, I looked up ‘Fire Bear’ while you were up there.  Native caterpillar.  You’re funny.”

Kait beamed at him, immediately starting back down the trail, trusting he would follow.  Naturally, he did.

“But you should see the butterflies they grow into.  They’ll make you shit yourself.”

“Well, that’s the dream, isn’t it.”

It was an easier descent than it had been a climb, requiring less pauses for breath, but Kait still didn’t like the occasional, cracking coughs that burst like static behind her.  She didn’t turn to look, but heard him avail himself of the handkerchief with frustrating frequency, and always with a soft, muttered curse.

“Question time,” she announced.  He sighed.

“Oh, great. I love these.”

“Why are you pretending you’re not sick?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m not pretending. Literally not sick.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is a minor inconvenience.  It’s nothing.”

“Rrrright,” she played along, weaving along the furrowed path.  “I get that it’s nothing.  So… why deny it?  You’re not an island.”

“What?” He laughed.  “What does that even mean? I’m ‘not an island’?  Have you met me? I’m totally an island.”

They stopped long enough for Kait to glance back as he counted on his fingers.

“...I’m sunny.  I’m sandy--”  He passed a hand back over his hair.  “Girls love me.  I naturally attract migratory waterfowl during breeding season.”  He stopped, inspired, eyes widening. 

“No wait.  Wait.  Scratch that.” He pointed at her excitedly. “I’m a peninsula.”

When Kait just stared, he pantomimed two hands coming broadly off his groin. “Because a peninsula is like--”

“I understand how geography works,” she held up a hand to stop him. “Thanks. I agree. You’re the world’s most annoying peninsula.”

He stood up a little taller, pleased with himself.

“Hell yeah, I am. Puttin’ that on a t-shirt.”

“What I was trying to convey,” Kait stressed.  “Is that you don’t exist without support from, or connections to, the rest of the world.  You’re allowed to ask for and accept help.”

J.D. shrugged. “Why would I need help, it’s just a cold.”

Kait pointed at him with sudden, aggressive triumph.  “A-HA!”

“FUCK.”

She extended her arms above her head in a V for victory, then resumed her almost bouncing progress down the trail.  J.D. sighed, passing a hand down his face before he followed.  Quickly.  Because he seriously did not remember the way down.

“Seriously. Kait. It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” she shrugged, returning her hands to her pack straps.  “So if it’s nothing, then you’ll let me help you.”

“Help me?” Again he laughed, bemused by the idea. “How are you going to help me?”

“By taking care of you.”

“Mm, okay.” She was cute.  “How are you going to do that?  Light some incense and chant?  Do a little dance around me naked? Wait--hold up--is that part of it?  Because if so--”

“Why are you laughing,” Kait demanded, craning a look back at him.  “Do I need to remind you that the Outsider camp has existed outside the COG for a long time.  Hell, some of our original settlers were Stranded during the Locust War.  We didn't have the benefit of filling out requisition forms to get medicines or supplies or even antibiotics.  We scavenged and cultivated and made do.  We learned or re-learned everything the hard way.”

J.D. quieted, chastened.  Alright, he felt a little bad for poking fun at her.  The Outsiders really had treated he and Del like their own, and it was so far the longest he’d ever felt like he was really, integrally part of something that mattered.  Loving and caring for something that felt loved him back.

He thought about that for so long that Kait grew worried by his silence.  She looked back again.

“J.D.?”

His eyes came up with a little startle.

“Huh?  Oh.  Sorry, no, I… I didn’t mean to impugn your capabilities, it’s just--”

"Just what?  You're afraid you might be wrong?"

He scoffed, eyes smugly half-hooding.

“Kait. Let’s not be ludicrous.”

“You cannot stand when I’m right--”

“That’s not true!  You’re right about plenty of things.”

"No no no, you didn't let me finish.  It doesn't bother you when I'm right, so long as you're not also simultaneously wrong."

Well, fuck.  She had him there.  He struggled to come up with a good rebuttal, and eventually just grumped, “...man, shut up.”

"So you'll let me?" she prompted.

"Let you what?"

"Take care of you."

He wanted to say no, but… what was the worst that could happen?  She gave him something bitter to drink and rubbed some kind of salve on him?  Put him to bed?  Tucked him in?  Stroked his hair and hummed and checked on him to make sure he was doing OK?

He’d gone too long silent again, and Kait once more looked back at him, bothered.  She slowed to a stop, and he followed suit without even thinking.

“J.D.”

He blinked like a sleepwalker. “...huh?”

"You're doing that thousand-yard stare thing again, are you sure you're OK?

She stepped up to his level on the path, studying him with a soft frown as she touched his cheek.  Then his forehead.  The simple tenderness of the gesture brought him up completely short, all thoughts abandoning his head.

“Uh, w… what?”  No wait. Get it together, man.  He squinted tightly and blinked his eyes back open.  “Uh.  We were talking about--”

“You needing someone to take care of you,” she reminded gently.

J.D. processed that with a broken-relay stare, like he needed an obstructive bird nest cleared from somewhere in his brain.  When it finally connected, he dismissed her with a flush of air through his pursed lips.

“Pssh!”

Kait rolled her eyes, reaching for his hand, and pulled him more firmly down the trail.

“Stubborn dumbass,” she muttered.  “Come on.”

Continued here.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Conversations. A follow up to this

"Okay, I'll go first. Or you start. I don't know, do you wanna go first?"

Steve is putting pasta on a plate

"Not too much, Steve. I still can't eat a lot, gotta go easy."

Steve's putting half of it back and seasons the rest with the sauce. Billy's digging in. It's even nice. Having company, for starters. Seeing Billy alive is nice too. Who would've thought. Who would've fucking thought. Steve's excited and a little nervous, he doesn't know how to behave around Hargrove. The guy used to .. be a bit of an asshole to him, god, when .. ?? It seems like it was in a different lifetime. So much has happened.

"Yeah, so .. what did you actually eat there? What did you drink? I mean, how did you survive?? How did you .. what happened to your .. you had literal holes in your body, man!"

Steve's opening a drawer and taking out a fork for himself but then he sees that he's already got one, so he's sliding the drawer open again to put it back and then nearly drops the strainer.

Why is he so nervous?

"Will you stop fidgeting, Harrington? Just sit down, Jesus."

Billy is chewing his food slowly.

"Fuuck, that's so good. I uh .. I don't remember much at first. I was passed out cold, and I actually never expected to open my eyes again. It was just .. too much pain, pain everywhere. And light, and darkness. I remember laying on the cold ground. Have no idea for how long. Can't really count the time in that place, you know like .. it's just the never-ending night. But then .. the places where the mindflayer had got me, they closed up, started healing .. by themselves. I don't know, weird shit was happening to my body ever since ugh .. since the Brimborn."

"Brimborn?"

"That's when it happened first. At the end of June." - Hargrove's sighing. - "It's such a fucking long story, you sure you wanna listen?"

Steve's looking at him as though the boy is out of his mind.

"Of course I want to."

So Billy tells him about the abandoned Brimborn steelworks mill, about trying to run away from the monster, the excruciating pain and helpless fear. About having absolutely no-one to turn to and ask for help or at least an explanation. About Heather and her family, as well as other families. About the newly-acquired ability of his body to heal, what has probably saved him from bleeding out and dying on the floor of Starcourt.

"Apparently, the motherfucker wanted to teach me a lesson, I don't know. Or make me its puppet, again. It just didn't let me die .. there was a little stream of water going down the cliff down into the lake, and the vines let me walk to that stream. They actually let me walk around sometimes, but not far. The moment I got too far they'd pull me back. The worst was when .. when the bats came. They just .."

Billy is motioning at the hundreds of scratches and actual deep wounds that covered his body.

"But the bats also brought something like food. They would drop it near me, and .."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but don't ask me what it was, Harrington. I really don't know what it was, and I don't wanna think about it .. all I know, it was edible. At least it saved me from starving to death."

"So uh .. that day was the day when I decided to stop.. stop all of it. Not drink, not eat what they gave me. I kinda lost all my hope. Not that I had much of it to begin with but .. I just fucking got tired of it. I really thought you were a hallucination first, Harrington. It seemed like leaving for a better place already."

Billy's is chuckling quietly

And Steve's palms start sweating for no reason.

"So that's .. that's basically it, I guess."

Steve's staring at the other boy with wide open eyes

"Shit, that's uh .. one hell of a story, Billy."

"Your turn, Harrington. How did you get my car back?"

"You want a beer?"

"A beer? Maybe just uh .. a little. Not sure it's a good idea for me to drink a whole bottle, just now."

"No more records to break, keg king ??" - Steve couldn't help himself.

Billy's grinning.

"Yeah right. We should definitely do it sometime though."

"I'll hold you to it, Hargrove."

Billy's face is getting clouded over, like he's having memories of his other life, before being introduced to the horrors of Hawkins and taken around its most peculiar places of interest.

Steve snaps him out of it by telling Billy how he went to the junkyard to find the camaro because he couldn't get rid of the guilt. How he almost died being tied up by the seatbelt and trapped inside, because the car was out for revenge. How he couldn't believe what was happening, but he had to.

Steve tells Billy about the long months of fixing it up, and then about that evening when he went outside and found "Help me" written on the dewy glass. How he asked Eleven to try to locate Billy and find a portal, and then made the decision to go to the upside down, basically on a hunch.

"Are you fucking serious, Harrington? You went there all alone with no back up?"

"Yeah, kinda .."

"You're crazy, dude."

Dude? What happened to pretty boy? You used to call me that, remember? - flashes through Steve's mind.

No more than you are. Steve wants to say but keeps it to himself as well.

Instead he says

"We gotta .. I think we have to call El, let her know you're alive and back. And .. she should probably close that portal. Before the nasties spread all over Hawkins again."

"Actually .. there's no need to call her. I can do it."

Steve's looking at Billy in disbelief.

"What??"

"I think I got like .. powers now, Harrington? I feel it in my .. in my blood, in my bones. In me. Be a good chance to test it."

Steve's kinda choking on his own spit.

"Powers? You've got powers now?? You think??"

"Look, I don't know man. But I kinda feel it, like .. while I was possessed I could do this stuff like I had all this strength. I used it for the evil, but now .. I still have something, and now that I didn't actually break, didn't give in, I could try using it for the good. I guess."

Steve's looking at Billy in awe. Is Hargrove a superhero now?

Well, shit.

"When do you want to do this thing?"

"A couple of days later. I'm still kinda weak."

"Yeah okay .."

Steve has already finished his bottle of beer, but Billy has barely sipped his.

"Any idea on how to get a fake id here? Or revoke a death certificate? I need .. I think I still need a fucking document with my name on it."

Revoking a death certificate would certainly be fun.

"I know who to call. Owens will be able to help with that."

"Who's Owens?"

"The government guy who helped clean up all that mess after Starcourt."

"Government ..?"

"He's alright. He's actually one of the good ones."

Billy's shrugging his shoulders.

"If you say so."

"And hey, tomorrow we're bringing your car to that place I know."

"You free tomorrow?"

Steve's actually very happy to finally have a full day-off.

"Yep."

"Sounds like a plan, Harrington. Thanks for the food. Didn't know you can cook."

Like you know anything about me, Hargrove .. - Steve's thinking and before he can say anything

"I'm beat."

"Yeah, uhm .. maybe the guest room tonight?"

"Sure."

***

Next chapter

[voraciousvore]

The Giant (4/16)

***Contains mouthplay****

------Chapter 4------

I woke up to the sun glaring at me through the window. I felt like I had been hit by a train; my body was sore and fatigued from the trials of last night. I tried to get up and realized I was pinned down by a giant hand. Sometime during the night Chester must have placed his hand over me, perhaps to keep me warm. Fortunately, his fingers were slightly curled in such a way that the weight of his hand wasn't crushing me. I lay still, feeling his colossal chest inhaling and exhaling underneath me. I had a lot to think about.

I figured, as much as I hated the thought, it was only a matter of time before I was eaten again. From what Chester had told me, the hunger all giants had for human meat, regardless of what good intentions he may try to put forward, would overwhelm him. I couldn't trust him to control himself; nor could I escape him, if his sense of smell was so acute that he could track me anywhere. A dim idea was starting to take form in my mind, a possible solution to my predicament, but the notion was so unsavory that I was reluctant to even seriously consider it.

Chester moaned faintly and began to stir, his fingers twitching lightly. My heart started to pound hard and fast in alarm. Instinctively, I wanted to run away from the giant man, but I was still immobilized by his oversized hand. As he woke up, he scooped me up with his fingers and sat up in bed, yawning wide. I cringed and turned away, unwilling to look inside his gaping maw again. His eyes turned to me and he gave me a shy smile. This small gesture of goodwill was instantly undermined by the audible growl of his stomach, which made me reflexively shriek and recoil in his hand. His smile vanished.

"Um... I'll get some breakfast right away," he murmured, standing up quickly enough to knock me over in his hand. He carried me to the kitchen with his massive long strides, and set me on the dining room table while he whipped up some food. He brought over a heaping stack of pancakes with sausage links on an oversized plate. Just like before, he took his scary gargantuan fork and cut off tiny pieces for me to eat, then voraciously dug into his own food. I felt too nauseated to eat but he didn't seem to notice. I was horrified, but like watching a terrible car wreck, I couldn't seem to look away as he shoved massive forkfuls of food in his mouth and swallowed them greedily. I watched his giant Adam's apple bob in his throat with each gulp, remembering in vivid detail how ghastly it felt when he swallowed me. The grotesque display of gluttony didn't last long, since the hungry giant cleaned his entire plate, including my negligible portion. I tried to not draw attention to myself, repressing my trembling as best I could.

"I'm going to get cleaned up and get some work done," Chester announced, taking me in his hand back to the bedroom. "Stay here for a moment while I go shower and dress." He dropped me on the bed and left the room with some clothes.

Suddenly, alone in the bedroom, an idea popped into my head. It was far too dangerous to leave the house, but what if I stayed inside and hid? Would Chester's nose be sensitive enough to find me? It was worth trying at least, and if he wasn't able to locate me by scent alone I might be safe, as long as I stayed hidden. I knew I had to work fast, so I jogged over to the edge of the bed and, gripping the sheets in my hands tightly, began the long climb down. I tried not to look at the floor far below, focusing only on finding the next handhold. My arms and hands started to burn from exertion but the urgency of the situation helped me work through the pain. Luckily for me, the comforter on the bed draped almost to the ground, so when I finally reached the end of it, I only had a short fall to the carpet beneath. I stopped to catch my breath and glanced up at the bed. I must've climbed down at least fifty feet. From the ground, the room and all the furniture looked even bigger than they did before, extending up an unfathomable distance.

I realized I didn't have much time and dashed out of the room. I wasn't able to see much whenever the giant carried me in his hand but I had a general idea of the layout of the house. I decided to head toward the living room. We hadn't spent any time in there, but I knew it was adjacent to the kitchen and dining room, so if I managed to successfully hide there I might be able to survive off food scraps that fell to the floor.

Unfortunately, the living room was all the way on the other side of the gigantic house, and I would have to pass by the bathroom to get there. I ran down the long, long hallway, which would only take the giant a couple of paces to traverse but took me several minutes at a full sprint. I noticed with relief that I could hear the shower flowing as I ran by the huge door. I slowed to a walk, gasping for breath. When I heard the shower stop, I commenced running again. A couple minutes of jogging and I made it to the end of the hall, but I didn't stop there; I scurried over and hid under the couch. I barely had time to catch my breath before the bathroom door opened and Chester stepped out.

From my hiding spot, I could see him standing in the hallway. He turned to go to the bedroom but then stopped in his tracks. I saw him turn back in my direction, sniffing the air. I held my breath. He walked into the living room, sampled the air through his nose, and strolled over to the couch. His thunderous footsteps shook the ground and the surrounding furniture, including the couch. His figure grew larger and larger as he got closer, until I could only see his massive bare feet. I couldn't help but notice that a single toe on his foot was as big as my entire body.

"Jaclyn?" he inquired. I didn't reply, trying to stay as quiet as possible. "Are you hiding under the couch?" Without warning, he lifted up half the couch with minimal effort, exposing my petrified, helpless self underneath. From my vantage point on the ground, he was inconceivably massive; I felt like nothing more than an insignificant bug at the feet of this colossal being. I hadn't been sure before, but he had to be somewhere around two hundred feet tall. A frightened yelp escaped my lips as I flinched away from the immense giant. His facial expression softened when he saw my response.

"You're... still so frightened of me, aren't you?" Chester observed sadly. I could only nod in reply, wild eyes wide with terror. "Would you... feel better if I left you alone for a while?" He set the couch down, restoring my (admittedly useless) hiding spot. He walked off and left me by myself in the darkness. I realized logically that hiding was useless if the giant knew exactly where I was, and could pinpoint my exact location by scent if I moved somewhere else, but I did feel safer being away from him regardless. I sat under the couch, knees folded to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs, and stared into the abyss.

I stayed that way for several hours. Chester steered clear of the living room. I monitored his movements as he went into his home office for a long time, presumably to write. Then, he got his boots on and left the house for a while, coming back later with groceries. He made himself a sandwich for lunch and a miniature lunch for me, which he left on the floor next to the couch alongside a bottle cap full of water. After he went back to his office to work some more, I cautiously came out of hiding to eat and drink, having skipped breakfast, then returned to my safe space. Even if I was afraid of him, I was still grateful for his compassion.

I knew I couldn't remain here forever. Eventually I would want a bath, clean clothes, a comfortable bed to sleep in instead of the hard floor. Not to mention I was no safer here than anywhere else: If the giant succumbed to his rapacious appetite, he could simply lift the couch as he did before and snatch me up. Sequestering myself under the couch was boring, uncomfortable, and pointless, but I might have stayed there for days if not for an upsetting event which forced me to leave.

At the time, I was sitting in my usual spot, watching Chester warily as he made himself dinner in the kitchen. I noticed movement in the corner of my eye, and looked over to see the BIGGEST SPIDER I had ever seen in my entire life, making a beeline straight for me! Have I mentioned I'm arachnophobic? I screamed my head off and ran away from the gigantic, hairy spider monster, out into the open.

Chester, hearing my cries of distress, rushed into the room to see what was the matter. Seeing the spider chasing me, he stomped his enormous boot down and smashed it. I was only a few feet away from his boot and the vibration knocked me down. I was now laying on the floor between his two massive boots, his giant form towering infinitely above me. He slowly bent down on one knee to get a closer look at me, concern written all over his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Did that spider hurt you?"

"I'm-I'm okay," I stuttered. "I d-don't want to stay under the c-couch anymore." I pulled myself into a sitting position, shaking, and craned my neck all the way back so I could see Chester's face. Normally his mountainous size made me nervous, but now I actually felt relieved that my giant protector was looming over me. This latest incident had only cemented my conviction that I would not be able to make it in this giant world without him. "I'll be okay with joining you for dinner now," I conceded.

Chester's face lit up with joy. "Wonderful," he said, nudging me gently into his large hand. I was reminded again how pleasingly soft and warm his hands felt. The giant returned to his full height carefully, trying not to let me lose my balance in his hand. He walked back to the kitchen and set me on the dining room table, then finished preparing his meal and set the table. This time he had cooked a steak, with a baked potato, and had poured himself a glass of red wine. He gifted me a crumb of buttery potato and I ate it gratefully. He dumped steak sauce on the big slab of meat and began to cut into it with a giant, shiny knife. I noticed the steak was cooked awfully rare, with a hint of blood seeping out with each cut. I realized with nauseating dread that he must have went out and bought the steak today in an effort to curb his insatiable craving for meat--human meat. I gulped nervously.

"Listen..." I started, "I've been thinking..." I stopped, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Hm?" The giant gave me his attention, his mouth full of potato.

I opened my mouth to speak, closed it again. Was I really going to suggest this? Before I lost my nerve, I forced myself to be brave and continue. "I've been trying to come up with a solution to our little predicament. And I think I have an idea." I paused dramatically. Chester cocked an eyebrow, but I could tell he was curious. He took another large bite of his potato.

With a shaky breath, I said, "I was thinking... I was thinking maybe..." I was stalling. Finally I blurted out, "I'll let you eat me for dinner!"

Chester's eyes practically popped out of his head and he choked on his mouthful of potato. Coughing, he washed it down with a swig of wine and stared at me with shock. "Are you serious?"

My face paled. "Well... I'm not willing right now to be swallowed again. So please--please don't do that. But I figure your cravings will only get worse the longer you try to hold them back. So maybe..." I shuddered. "Maybe if you just hold me in your mouth while you eat dinner, you can t-taste me, right? And you can pretend you're swallowing me, when you consume the rest of your food?" I reasoned, "This is the best compromise I could come up with. Nobody gets hurt, and you get... me. Just not inside your belly."

Chester's green eyes gleamed with hunger. "I'm willing to try it." He pondered the suggestion, looking up and down my body in a way that made me squirm. "It won't be quite the same, since I won't get the pleasure of feeling you, my little Jaclyn, thrash around in my stomach. We giants do enjoy the thrill of the hunt, and the conquest of our prey. But I think this will be minimally sufficient, for the time being."

I nodded unenthusiastically, trying to hold down my rising panic. What had I gotten myself into? Why had I agreed this arrangement, let alone even suggested it in the first place? Of course, I knew the answer--because there was no other choice. Because if I hadn't set terms, Chester would have eventually, inevitably, lost control and eaten me anyway, perhaps more savagely than if his appetite was tempered with regular tastings. At least this way, it was my choice, and I had some control over the situation. With quivering limbs, I climbed onto the giant's dinner plate, then onto the bloody steak. I made my way toward the center and plopped myself down in the sauce. I knew I was going to get covered in steak juices, and wine, and saliva anyway, so why not some sauce too?

I looked up at Chester. "Go ahead and... eat me. I'm ready."

The giant smiled avariciously, revealing huge teeth stained red with blood and wine. "With pleasure, my dear." He stabbed into the meat with his fork and started cutting off pieces of steak, putting them into his maw one at a time. Unlike before, when he gobbled down his food with alarming rapidity, he was taking his time, savoring the moment. I could tell even from where I was sitting his mouth was watering with anticipation. I tried my best to remain calm as the giant knife crept closer and closer to me. All too soon, it was cutting around the piece of steak I was sitting on. I could see my pale reflection in the knife staring back at me with fright. The giant tucked the splines of the fork under the chunk of meat and lifted it, with me, towards his lips. I whimpered with terror.

"No need to be afraid," Chester cooed in a low voice. "I promise, with all my heart, I won't swallow you." And with nothing but a flimsy promise, I sat passively on the meat and allowed the giant man to open his mouth wide and fully engulf me.

Once I was all the way inside, the giant tongue maneuvered me off the steak cube, which was moved over to the huge molars to be crushed. The fork clinked against the teeth as it exited the mouth. Everything inside was wet with saliva and I was swiftly drenched. Unlike before, I was not the only food item inside the giant's mouth, so I was jostled about as the powerful jaws worked to mash the steak into pulp. The throat made a motion to swallow, suctioning down the food, but thankfully I was spared this fate.

The circular wall of teeth opened, briefly letting in light before it was obscured by the fork carrying another cut of meat. Just like before, the meat was shuttled to the teeth, masticated into mush, and disappeared into the depths. And again, the mouth opened to receive more prizes, this time both meat and potato, which were summarily processed and gulped down. All the while, the tongue played with me, and I was powerless, completely at its mercy. A few times I came dangerously close to the gaping gullet, wincing in horror as I felt hot breath from the lungs below wafting over my face.

I could tell the giant was enjoying every minute as he slowly ate his dinner, bite by bite. He hummed in his throat with satisfaction and sighed with contentment. Although I was not having a good time, I was glad at least that he seemed to find our arrangement satisfactory. He opened his mouth and a deluge of wine was dumped in, sweeping me towards the back of the throat, but the giant was still careful not to pour me straight down his esophagus with the wine.

Chester continued to ingest his dinner, chewing and swallowing, until, at long last, it was all gone. He finished with a final huge draught of wine which pushed me all the way up to his uvula before it was rapidly drained down. He kept me in his mouth for a while longer, rolling me over his tongue and teeth and into each cheek in the side of his mouth as he had done before. I tried to be patient but started to become increasingly afraid that he wasn't going to let me out. After all, there was nothing stopping him from swallowing me except his word, and we both knew it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he opened his mouth and inserted the fork, now empty. I interpreted this gesture as a means of egress and eagerly hopped on the long splines of the eating utensil. I chuckled to myself as it occurred to me that I'd never been this happy to climb onto a giant's fork. As the fork removed me from the cave of living flesh, I ducked so as not to hit my head on the row of front teeth. Fresh air hit my face and I felt a rush of relief to be free. I was almost moved to tears.

Glancing over my shoulder to the giant's face, I saw that Chester was moved too, but in a different way. He looked thoroughly satiated with his dinner, if not outright ecstatic. He set me down on his now empty plate and patted his belly.

"That was exquisite," he lauded. "Best dinner I've had since... last night." He winked.

"I'm glad it worked out for you," I replied calmly. Now that I wasn't scared of being eaten, I was feeling much better.

"In all seriousness though... thank you. I know that wasn't easy for you. It means a lot that you were brave enough to voluntarily go in there," Chester said. "If you hadn't... I don't know if you would have survived tonight, to be honest."

I felt a cold chill at that remark, which he uttered so flippantly. I may have escaped cruel fate tonight, but the future could bring anything. I had to wonder if he really viewed me as a person, an equal, or just as a sentient snack. Most likely the latter, if I had to guess. As difficult as it may be for me to accept such a concept, I could certainly understand why, if humans were normally regarded as nothing more than mouthwatering morsels. Not to mention the incredible size difference; I was a measly, insignificant nothing compared to him, a bite of food that could be swallowed in one gulp, digested, and forgotten about. I shivered.

For now, though, I was safe, and very grateful for that. I looked down at my soggy clothes in disgust: they were ruined after soaking in red wine. At least they weren't expensive clothes. Maybe I could wear them whenever Chester decided he wanted to eat me. The question remained as to how often I would be forced to undergo these tasting sessions. I didn't want to bring up the subject myself, but there was no doubt Chester would desire a human--me, of course--to grace his palate again soon.

"You look like you could use a bath and a set of clean clothes," Chester remarked. He picked me up in his hands as he always did, prepared my bath, and washed my clothes. Afterwards, he took me into the living room and we watched TV until I fell asleep in his lap, nestled into his shirt against his torso.

Chapter 5

Chapter 1