#PERFECT PUTRID FREAK

[dilftaroooo]

Request: True form Sukuna claiming his offering in front of her village.

im gonna write this as a drabble :3

★tags/tw: uhh implied cannibalism + cervix fucking + sukuna is pretty misogynistic + fem!reader + discrimination against humans(?) idfk + true form!sukuna + loss of virginity

You delicately sit in the middle of the stage, introducing yourself to the slew of men and women scattered about like spilled salt on a kitchen table. Your legs are spread to present to them your blooming flower--still pink and untouched. It twitches under the many watchful eyes of diverse emotions--horror, confusion, lust, envy. They all poured down on you amid a lethal storm, droplets pounding your skin and soaking you thoroughly. You turn your head to avoid the plethora of wicked gazes. The feeling is overwhelming.

Behind you lies a demon. A great being, an entity that holds more power than anyone close or far. His teeth are sharp, his eyes are beady, and his stomach is hungry for the innocence of a fresh maiden. The people of your village brought you here. They made sure your scent was pleasant and that you were garbed in the cleanest of silk--your uchikake was adorned in floral patterns reminiscent of the trees that bloomed near your home.

They knew you'd be deemed a perfect offering for Sukuna-sama, the King of Curses--you're a sweet girl with a pure body, your breasts are full and your thighs are plump. They were sure if their King ever grew bored of you, he could easily dispose of your youthful frame by savoring your flesh and keeping your skull as a precious souvenir. Innocents always taste sweeter than most.

Though your legs were spread, they weren't spread enough for Sukuna as he already gripped your thighs with a strict pressure you weren't unfamiliar with. The squelch that leaves your pussy parts as he further widens your limbs was a sound everyone managed to capture. You're wet and slimy and maybe somewhat aroused. Your King is an attractive beast with a chiseled chin and a beguiling grin. Intricate, onyx lines surface the apex of his taut muscles and the sight makes you clench around thin air. You ponder on what he'd look like if he were a mere human such as yourself.

"All of you!" He starts, his voice booms through the premises and you're surprised by how powerful the echo is despite not being in an enclosed space. As expected, everyone gears their eyes toward the four-armed monster in preparation for his next words. "I want you mortal freaks to watch me fuck this girl you were so kind to offer me. If it hadn't been for this young duckling I would've already slaughtered this putrid village and watched my militia of curses swallow you whole."

He's quick for his size as he brings you onto his hefty lap, and from there you already feel one of his cocks coat itself against your wet slit. He's huge and lingering at the back of your mind, you wonder if you would die at first thrust. His tip is an angry red, livid from the languid teasing performed by its heaving owner from rubbing it across the length of your weeping cunt. It isn't long before his playful ministrations are seduced into slamming inside you.

You weren't even spared a moment of reconsideration for your hymen was already snapped into two, disintegrating upon impact. It would have been a shame to experience your deflowering with a prominent tummy bulge if it wasn't for how much your mind and soul revere the beast overlapping your weak presence.

You were his and he was his own as he violently hammered himself down to the hilt. You bathed him in the blood of a former virgin while he hits that bruised cervix within you. Your back is against that sculpted chest you worship dearly and his sweat rubs off on you is strong with his pheromones.

"Sukuna-sama," You mewl because he's so deep in your pussy that you can't fight back the urge to call out his name. He responds with a finger to your clit and a hand on your breast, making it his duty to circle a thick finger around your nipple.

"I don't remember granting you permission to speak now, did I?" His tone is dark enough to make you believe you've done something utterly wrong but your apology comes out in a series of wanton moans. He chuckles at how the pathetic always act so miserably.

"But since you're clasping around me so tightly," Burgundy red orbs glare at the side of your left cheek, previously moistened with tears of pain and gratitude. "I'll let your sheer idiocracy go. I don't think any of the past wenches you humans throw at me grip my dick this hard. I assume they were used up til they were nothing but a gaping hole." Then he frowns.

"They must think poorly of me."

Sukuna cherishes the screams rushing out of your throat as you take him inch by overbearing inch, stretching you out to accommodate his length and girth. You're nothing but his plaything.

You practically forget the crowd casted in front of you once you hear subdued chattering coming from multiple voices, all laced with different tones with different perceptions. You feel like a common whore.

Throughout, Sukuna never kissed you. He believes he should not taste the lips of a revolting human for it'll taint his palate. He just fucks into you as you bounce like some ragdoll abandoned by a little girl. But if life has fated you with the opportunity to become Sukuna's, your King's, toy, then may you not change the inevitable.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #tw:cannibalism

[belovedcloud]

Regret | Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

✎ REQUEST: i absolutely love ur writing!!! just read ur latest fic with plagas leon! if i'm not bothering would you ever write a slightly angsty fic where you get into an argument with leon and where u exchange harsh words to eachother? and maybe leon slaps the reader in the heat of the moment? and it turns into makeup sex (hopefully it's not too much qwq)

✎ Notes: Thank you Anon for the request! Hope this is what you wanted :) I absolutely love the idea of a heavy argument turning into makeup sex, Leon is the perfect man for this I love him sm. This is again really short and rushed because I've got a lot of work to do.

➤ WC: 1.64K

➤ CW: Leon being mean, Angst/Smut (Comfort during sex and at the end) Leon slapping reader, cunnilingus, fingering, P in V (unprotected sex), creampie, dumbification of some sort.

MINORS DNI!

It was never meant to be like this, the argument with you and Leon went too far. You knew Leon's job was out of the ordinary but was it wrong of you to want to spend more time with him? Caring for a person like him is so painful, the constant worry of him being safe and the monsters he faced hurt you like no other. However, Leon didn't see what he was doing wrong, why you were so angry about him not spending time with you. Mission on mission, things get worse - he never meant it to affect you though. His actions had consequences.

It began with Leon coming home, the putrid smells of death and blood splattered all over his body. A deep sigh escaped his throat as he threw his duffel bag somewhere alongside the hallway, walking into the kitchen seeing you on your phone. He didn't say anything, no hello or goodnight came from his lips. Dropping his keys on the counter to head upstairs for a long awaited shower. Washing off the feeling of murder that hung low on his shoulders, he comes downstairs to see you eying him weirdly.

"What?" Leon grumbled out as he took a water from the fridge, gulping it down. "It's nothing..." A hushed voice came out of your mouth. Was it that much to ask for a kiss or even a hug when he came back home? Weeks of distance made you crave for something. Someone. That someone was Leon, but looking into those dull blue eyes made you believe he didn't reciprocate those feelings you had for him. "Can you cut the bullshit for once?" A stern tone laced in Leon's voice as he threw the bottle in the bin, slamming his hand on the counter. "What the fuck is your problem?!" You couldn't help but snap back, was he being serious right now? Thoughts flooded your brain and not once could you remember when he last kissed you, let alone hug you.

"My problem? You're the one looking at me like I'm some freak! I just got back and- Fuck! It's always this with you!" Leon shouted at you, he never was like this. This wasn't the Leon you loved, it was some new profound one that you didn't recognize. Without thinking, you stood up and approached him. "Maybe show me some fucking attention for once! Instead of moping around." A scream of words thrusted out of your throat as you felt your eyes water, your body full of anger. Leon took a step back, scoffing at your rebuttal and sighed. "Can you just leave me alone? I don't want to deal with you right now." The emphasis on you tore your heart a little, you didn't do anything wrong. Not that you knew of - for him to be angry at you was ridiculous. All you wanted was to be loved, to be appreciated for what you put into the relationship.

"Leave you alone? I've been leaving you alone for weeks! It feels like a one sided relationship at this point, what's the point of being with me if-" A harsh burn spread across your face, the words that hung in your throat went dry. Automatically, your hand felt your cheek. Leon had slapped you. Why? You felt tears fall down your face as it stung the aching pain where Leon's hand smacked. He didn't know why he did it. Ashamed of his actions he took a step towards you, just for you to not return the favour. Your own legs stepping back. "I- I'm so sorry, I don't know-" His voice trailed off as he saw you sprint upstairs, the slam of your bedroom door ringing in his ears. "Wait! Y/N! Please!" His footsteps echoed the house as he ran up the stairs, arriving in front of the closed door. You had your back to it, muffled sobs escaping your lips as you felt your neck get wet. He slapped you.

"Sweetheart.. I'm sorry, please.." He started to knock on the door, until he heard your sobs penetrate through. Fuck. He messed up. Was this going to be the end? Leon couldn't afford to lose you, he loved you too much. His pride and joy, the person he loved the most. The sole reason why he was still here today - yet he hurt you in indescribable ways. Leon felt like a fool as he felt his heartbeat race, why did he have to hurt you? What the fuck was wrong with him? The thoughts dissipated into the air he heard the locked door click. Shaky hands twisted the knob of the door as he slowly creaked it open. Seeing your body slightly shake on the bed, uncontrollable tears dripping down from your chin to your shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby.." Leon approached you carefully, trying to not alert you in any harmful way. His gaze wondering all over your body until his eyes reached yours. Pure fear corrupted your eyes as you looked back at him, however the movement of his hands slowly calmed you down. Stroking your back, he whispered sweet nothings into your ears, apologizing for his actions.

"Please, let me make it up to you.." His fingers tugged onto the band of your shorts, a slight blush appearing on your cheeks as you stared at him. "I.." Your mellow voice trailed off when you felt Leon kiss up your thighs, a slight gasp elicited out of your throat. "Wanna show you how much I love you. It's been too long." His hands made quick work of your shorts and panties, your slick covering your clit. "So fucking gorgeous.." He mumbled as he gently nipped at your inner thighs, leaving love bites on them. Quiet whimpers fell out from your lips, your hands tugging at the soft cotton sheets beneath you. Leon looked up at you, you were so pretty for him. His pretty girl. A delighted groan rumbled out of his throat as his tongue slid up your pussy, God you were so sweet. His tongue poked into your entrance, licking up the mess you were making for him as the pads of his fingers rubbed your puffy clit. "O-Oh.. Leon." Moans echoed throughout the room as your eyes rolled back. You tasted so good. A firm grip on your thigh made you shiver as his tongue lapped you up, a rhythm developed as he took his finger off your clit, his nose bumping into it instead. "Mm.. Delicious." A throaty moan left his lips, pistoning his fingers into you. It wasn't long till you felt a burning feeling in your stomach, your thighs starting to shake. "Leon, baby I-" You hiccupped your whines as the orgasm rushed all over you. "That's my girl, fuck.. cum all over my fingers baby." He adored your blissful state as you shook in his touch. Choked sobs and moans slowly died down as he pulled his fingers out of you, his tongue licking them clean.

"Please Leon.." The pleas left your throat too quick, your hands tugging on his sweatpants as you craved him. His love was like no other, giving you that warm feeling in your stomach. "Hm? What d'you want baby?" A soft smile spread across his face as he took your hand into his. "You know what I want.." A mellow whine came from you, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he started to take off his sweatpants. His cock throbbing in his boxers as he looked up at your heavenly body in front of him. "You're beautiful.. y'know that?" His hand traced up your body, gripping gently onto your side as his other hand aligned his hard cock to your entrance. The flushed dark pink tip slowly rubbing up and down your clit. He glanced back up at you, seeing your head give him a nod.

The slow push inside of you made his head spin, a raspy growl erupted from his throat as he thrusted himself fully in you. "So, fuck, tight f'me.." His hips slowly grinded into you, your eyes averted down to the lewd sight infront of you. Watching his cock thrusting in and out of you until the tip hit the right spot, your eyes rolling back. "O-Oh.." You mumbled out, feeling yourself go dumb on his dick. It had been so long that the stretch and pace felt new, it felt like love. Your hands scratching at his back, leaving red long marks. A groan of pain mixed with pleasure made his head fall back in ecstasy. "So good.." He whimpered out, subconsciously his fingers landed back on your clit.

The callousness roughly rubbing your clit, he felt you tighten around him. The wet sloppy thrusts quickened, Leon wanting to make you cum. "Please cum, please I want you to cum on my dick sweetheart." He moaned out, kissing you so passionately as he felt your climax make you go breathless. You gasped for air as he continued to snap his hips into you. "Fuck.. I love you, I love you, I love you.." He chanted as he felt his own high come over him, his cum squirting out of his tip. Filling you up so full, so warm. He panted looking at you, a soft smile spreading across your face. Love was exchanged between the both of you, the skin to skin touch melted you both into one.

"Thank you." A whisper hushed out of your mouth, Leon stared at you confused. "Hm? Don't thank me sweetheart.. here." He plucked a few tissues from the box, wiping you down. Sweet kisses gently tickled your skin as giggles elicited out from your lips. "I love you." Your mellow voice travelled through his ears, a wide grin spread across his face.

"I love you too."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon smut #leon kennedy angst

[goldammerchen]

Harvest

Summary: There’s better places to wake up; this time Gil found himself in one of the worst. Warnings: Gore, Death: Mature-Explicit fanfiction.

Snow falling on his face made him wake up. When opening his eyes, the first thing Gilbert saw were his hands in fingerless gloves, semi covered in snow powder. He got up from the snow, wiping off the rest from his gloves and unaffiliated long dark coat. As soon as he straightened his head, he noticed a full-length mirror in front of him, standing in the middle of the white nothingness.

He walked towards it.

The mirror had an umber colored frame, and the glass was in perfect state. At close inspection, Gilbert recognized his face more pale than the usual, not blushed despite of the cold. More alarming, a fresh blood stain covered his whole midriff. He unbuttoned his coat, opening it with both hands. His skin and muscle was missing, showing his white ribs over his beating heart and lungs hanging over... Nothing. His spine was visible, as well it was his hips pocking over his pants.

Crack.

Looking down, he saw clean ice cracking under his feet, over a pitch-black lake, that he could swear was not there before.

He felt—

Gilbert woke up again, water covering his nose and mouth. With his legs, he pushed to move his head above the reddish looking waters of the bathtub he found himself in. Gasping for air, horrible shaking dominated his whole cold body, making his teeth chatter. He was naked, ice cubes covering his torso.

His left hand was hanging off the tub. This can't be happening, he hoped, slapping his face with an open palm.

Nothing around him changed; he did not wake up once again.

He grunted and whined, cursing under his breath. Observing around him, he decided to inspect his body for last. The unknown bathroom was perfectly clean, smelling like chlorine: the responsible cleaned after themselves. To his right, a paper note was taped to the wall. Gilbert snatched it, putting it close to his face, trying to be as motionless as he could, his heart pounding in his ears.

Printed with red ink, it said:

"You should be proud, a freak of nature like you is being useful."

He stared at the note, his hand still trembling, then dropped the note to the ceramic floor, closing his hand in a loose fist. A millionaire bastard "altruist" little project? They could get organs in legal, not so legal, and straight up illegal ways, so it was unlikely the organs were for themselves. Unless, the people behind this were after immortality, jealous of people like Gilbert...

Well...

With both hands, he began to examine his body, starting from his chest. While it seemed he still had both of his lungs by the lack of incisions under his nipples, a just after where his ribs ended, he found staples in the middle and at both sides: Liver, of course. But the middle surgery cut went further of the navel, nearly going lower into his pubic mound.

Enough: he removed both his hands out the cold water, hanging his left outside again, while he had trouble to rest his right, having no strength to keep it on the tub frame, next to the wall. It slipped inside again, back to the cold.

Not just his liver—all or part of it, no way to know—that wasn't enough, likely a kidney (or both), pancreas, intestines... Greedy motherfuckers.

Gilbert snickered, sending his pain receptors on his upper body haywire. His face contorted, his expression fixing on a sneer, closing his eyes. They were going to find a putrid murky pool of rotting biowaste instead of healthy ready-to-be-transplanted organs, time claiming what it's hers when she can. Yes, he was going to die for nothing, his missing organs will not grow back, and nobody will receive them. If a poor bastard it's out there waiting to new functional vital body pairs, they will die as well. Hopefully, whoever wanted this is experimenting on themselves, not forcing innocents to be their guinea pigs.

He opened his eyes. If they did harm to his little brother, he, he... He couldn't do anything from there, nothing at all, literal dead weight. His ending was imminent, Death was tapping with impatience his clock, not caring if Gilbert needed more time to weep in silence.

No, not yet.

The last thing Gilbert wanted was to die in water, the opposite of dying beautiful, water interfering with the process in ugly, uglier ways than the terrestrial usual. He should get out of the bathtub, yes, he definitely should, while still doable. He will do, after closing his eyes just for a little while...

Note: Tod, Death, Masculine; Zeit, Time, Feminine.

#hetalia fic #hetalia fanfiction #dark hetalia #hws prussia #aph prussia #gilbert beilschmidt #fanfic tag 🪶 #sr. tnddr #killed gil. again

[leahsflwer]

Steven Grant imagine - Smut

⚠️ Smut warning, adult content ⚠️

========== ➳༻❀☕❀༺➳==========

Walking into a late night shift was not usually fun, but as soon as I spotted Stephen grabbing things from Donna's hands I felt a sense of ease rush over me. Donna scolded Steven for not being more responsible before spotting me.

"Ah Y/N perfect, make sure you both finish scanning and sorting out all those carts over there and lock it up for the night, alright? Now I'll be off I have a date" she sighed and I nodded

"Enjoy your date Donna" I smiled and she just walked out without speaking making me turn to Steven rolling me eyes

"She needs some manners" I laughed

"She ain't a nice person someday s but you cant really say anything to your boss, without getting fired ayé" he spoke in his strong accent.

I chuckled at his words and nodded before walking over to the counter and spotting all the carts of things to scan and put away. My teeth clenching together in annoyance. Grabbing my phone I put on some music and sat down scanning products in the first out of fifteen carts. Steven sitting beside me and scanning things from the second cart, looking over at me. I noticed the stare ans peaked over at him.

"Have I told you about The Girl With the Rose-Red Slippers?" He spoke up and I shook my head making him hide his face in his hands and then laugh gently

"Ah well shall I tell you it?" He smiled.

My head nodding in return listening as he spoke to me about this Egyptian myth. He loved to tell me all about these stories, facts and myths. But i didn't mind, I enjoyed the talks we had even if it was mostly me listening to him rant on. His hair was more curly today, one piece falling onto his forehead, curly as ever and making me wonder how springy it may be if I touched it. His pink lips catching my eyes as he spoke.

"The Cinderella story came from this, a Greek girl named Rhodopis who was sold into slavery in Egypt." He continued

His lips looking soft ans plump making me wonder how good they would feel pressed against mine. His eyes going from my eyes to around the room as he used his hands to gesture each thing as he spoke.

"A very kind man bought her and, in turn, provided her with a home and showered her with beautiful gifts. One day, an eagle swooped down and stole one of her rose-red slippers. It was delivered to the pharaoh Amasis." He said and I managed to nod as my eyes took in the details of his dark eyes

Steven's dark eyes made my body feel weak and good all at once. His gaze stared right back at me even when I closed my eyes I could see him. He was on my mind a lot to the point were I have to try and pretend he's a happily taken man, even though I know he's single and my close friend. I just cant fall in love with someone. The last time I fell for a man and told him I had never kissed anyone he laughed and called me 'virgin freak'. It was a putrid name that still echos in my mind.

"Amasis asked to meet the owner of that slipper and the rest, shall we say, is history. The two fell so deeply in love they even died on the same day." He said almost gasping at the end

"Its quite romantic I think, falling in love so deeply that the gods had them never even part for a day, as they died together, cute love story that always makes me smile" he chuckled

"Thats a cute story actually.." I smiled with a sigh making Steven frown

"You alright? Im not boring you am I?" He asked

"No! Not at all. I enjoy all the myths and facts you tell me, I've always had to be the talker, I hated it I much prefer to be the listener" I nodded and he understood with a soft smile

"My talking is a lot innit" he chuckled with his strong accent making me flustered

"I love your talking Steven don't worry so much" I chuckled and continued to beep products and placing them down on the counter.

The rest of the night contained of us doing our job as I listened to Steven talk more and more, me reassuring him to continue and that im interested in what he was saying at all times. Finally we had finished scanning and had to put the things away on shelves. Steven going to the other side of the gift shop and me trying to reach the top shelf but struggling. Steven suddenly coming up behind me and placing a step down.

"Here you are darlin' don't fall aye?" He smiled and continued what he was doing

"T-Thanks Steven" I spoke but he just nodded and continued putting things on display.

I could finally reach the shelf and places all the plushies on it making it look beautiful and appealing to customers. Reaching my hand down in the box to get the last one, standing back up but on a bit of a lean, causing me to fall back and off the step. Hitting my head hard on another box besides Steven who quickly helped me back up, his hand landing on my cheek as he looked for any injuries.

"Im aight Steven" I sighed and got lost in his dark eyes again, it wasn't what my mind wanted but it was exactly what my heart wanted

"You sure? Here sit down and I'll finish this last box yeah?" He spoke and he lifted me onto the desk and left me to put things away.

He was driving me mad, he was so sweet and the perfect definition of a gentleman. It has my heart racing around in my chest, filling my stomach with butterflies ans giving my mind new thoughts and ideas. He had me going insane. I wanted him to be a rude person so I could hate him, but he wasn't. That annoyed me.

He finally finished and took me off the desk gently as he held onto my hips. I gulped at the touch and just smiled in return. Thanking him and following him as we locked the museum up for the night him turning to face me.

"Shall I walk you to the bus then darlin?" He smiled with his strong accent causing me to blush and feel hot in the face

"Actually Steven, can I stay at your place tonight?" I spoke up finally.

So many times has Steven asked me the same question and I wanted to reply with that. Tonight I finally said it. Id rather be rejected then feel the pain of holding in so many ideas and thoughts. Steven staring down at me with wide eyes. His lips slightly parted as if I stole his only words.

"W-Well I suppose if you want to you can, yea' ah let's go then" he chuckled awkwardly.

Which I followed him to his flat. Looking into the elevator mirror noticing Steven was quiet and looking down at me, his breath slightly hitched, telling me he felt nervous, perhaps he had never had someone at his flat before so I laughed to myself and then realised I had never been alone at a guys place before so I gulped.

He pointed out different things in his little place and I just smiled at then found his fish smiling st it, watching the golden creature swim around.

"Does it have a name?" I asked him

"Name? Oh yeah he's called Gus" he replied

"Awe Gus you're so cute and unique, you're lucky to have such a good father, hmm?" I chuckled and could see Steven staring at me from the reflection on the glass fish tank

"Y-yes I take good care of him." He laughed

Wondering over to his bed I spotted the chains and restrains on his bed making me smirk up at Steven who was looking nervous.

"Steven I had no idea you were kinky" I grinned

"Oh no! I use those because I sleep walk.. that why I have so much tape in the bin there.. im bad with it sometimes" he sighed and sat beside me

"Sleepwalker huh? Thats pretty cool" I smiled and he looked like he had seen a cute puppy, a smile plastered on his face, glowing eyes

"You think its cool? Not weird or something?" He questioned me

"No I thinks its hella cool Steven" I chuckled and lifted up the restrains taking in all of it.

Steven looking at me as I fiddle with it.

"Wanna try it out?" Steven asked me and I gulped.

Never in a million worlds did I expect, sweet, nerdy and funny Steven Grant to ask me if I wanted to be restrained to his bed. A shiver running down my spine. Steven just innocently looming over at me as id he said nothing.

"You want to restrain me to your bed..?" I asked

"Ah sorry I meant, like see how I put it on at night!!" He panicked and so did I taking a sigh of both relief and disappointment

"So you don't want to restrain me right now?" I chuckled only playing a joke

"Well.. its a thought in my mind.. but.." he stuttered making me flustered

I stood up and peaked over at his books and picked one out pretending I was interested in it which I usually would be but I was too flustered to think currently. Peaking up I saw Steven running his hand threw his dark hair.

Im body had enough, I made my way over to him again and finally played with his hair, his curls exactly the way I imagined. A smile on my face that couldn't leave. Understanding he was looking up at me with cute, dark eyes had me weak in the knees. His hands landing on my waist and pulling me onto his lap, I gasped at the feeling of my area slamming down onto his lap.

"Ive liked you ever since you first spoke to me on your first day at the museum, you just seem to become more and more what I want, ive wanted to kiss you for so long Y/N, can I kiss you darling?" He grins at me still holding my hips.

Nervously I gulp and nod in agreement.

He leans in close and his lips finally touch mine, the heat crashing between each movement we made. This was a much needed kiss that I had been begging and imagining for everyday.

Steven laying me on the bed his Hand's leaving my hips and moving up slowly sneaking under my shirt, his kisses leaving my lips down to my neck and collarbone. I imagined a side of Steven like this but never thought it was real. He stopped and looked down at me.

"Are you sure you want any of this? I don't want you to regret anything or feel uncomfortable at all" he asked making me feel safe and loved

"Im sure, I trust you Steven" I nodded and he smiled softly.

Continuing his kisses as he pulled my shirt up and over my head exposing my white bra. He smirked at it and kissed my stomach softly. Holding onto the waist line of my shorts looking up for permission which I granted with a nod. He pulled them down along with my panties. His cold fingers touching my warm folds.

"Ive never really done this so let me know if I should change anything" he stated.

His two fingers slowly entering me making my hips buck forward, his fingers were much bigger then mine. A soft moan escaping my mouth. Giving him a confidence boost to move in and out, which felt good but something was missing.

"Steven fuck- that feels good, u-use your tongue here- fuck!" I whimpered almost from his fingers curling inside me, his tongue gliding around my clit making me throw my head back in pleasure and hold onto his curly hair in pleasure.

My hips moving up and down to feel more of Steven. The rush causing me to moan out loud and my legs to shake as my orgasm finally came over me. Steven removing his fingers and cleaning them with his tongue making me want him even more now. He removed my bra his hands shaking telling me he had never removed clothing off a women like this before.

Steven throwing it somewhere in the room. Then picking me up and placing me on the other side of the bed, his tight grip on my wrists making me gasp as he grabbed the restraining me to his bed. I thought he was only joking but yet here i'am completely venerable to him with my body exposed and those eyes pinned on my body. His hands running down to my hips with a smile on his face making me nervous.

I moved to remove his clothes but was stopped with a jolt of tightness around my wrists that were tied together above my head. Steven smiled at me and removed his shirt himself. My body wanted to lift my hands up and touch his tanned body but I couldn't.

He removed his pants and boxers making me gulp and feel nerves rush over me. Steven was bigger than I was expecting. He kissed my forehead and the sweet Steven came back to me for a second.

"You ready? We can stop anytime you want" he smiled and I nodded in return feeling looked after.

He realised he didn't have protection but I smiled to tell him it's alright and his cock rubbed on my clit making me grip the cuff around my wrists.

His cock slowly pushing inside of me making me moan and pull tighter on the cuff. He stretched me out perfectly making pleasure flood threw me. Steven kissed my lips passionately as he pushed it all the way in causing me to moan into the kiss.

"Mm Steven you make me feel so good" I moaned out feeling so flustered and shy underneath him.

Steven's pace fastened as he gripped onto my hips definitely leaving a mark.

"Fuck- Steven.." I moaned as I felt myself orgasm once more but Steven didn't slow down, overstimulating me.

He placed my legs on his shoulders and pounded into me moans from me and his grunts was all that could be heard, featuring the sounds of are skin clapping.

Soon we were laying together me on his chest catching our breaths with a smile. He kissed my forehead and I looked up at him kissing his plump lips.

#steven grant #moonkight #marvel imagines #marvel #marc spector #mr knight

[windy-trickster]

Insider

Serpent sat amongst the Purples in the pews of the Clurch. He's been a member ever since his "moirallegience" with one of its most prominent members, Mellia Poulou. A woman who could make anyone and everyone pay attention to her. Her words, her presentation, and her influence most of all. Serpent would've admired these traits if she wasn't an unclean wench. Sitting all around him on all sides are the filthy. The unclean. The unholy mass of dirt and grim that stains Alternia's pristine lands. Highbloods. Disgusting and vile. Unbefitting of their stellar, classist statuses. They're all worthless to Serpent. None of these faygo slamming, face paint wearing freaks of nature matter in the slightest to him. They're all going to die once his plans are set into motion. The sermon raged on, Mellia Poulou herself standing up there beside the Clurch Leader. Her beautiful, enchanting smile and her perfect pretty face. It made Serpent sick. Mellia could've been so much more if you asked him. She could've been one of the few who broke the mold. But no, she continued with her sick and twisted ways. Draining the hearts of many and leaving them to die, stealing whatever she wanted from them. Serpent hated it. He hated how Mellia played herself out to be some gracious theatre owner, some angel amongst the devils. But Serpent knew better. He's seen the devious tactics that Mellia has used to get to the top. Just like every single FUCKING Highblood he's ever seen. Disgusting. Putrid filth he wishes to wash from the soil. It's HIS duty to help rid the planet of all that's caused it to rot away from the glory it could've been. He wishes to build the world anew, free it from the tyrannical leadership and break down every single Highblood until they understand what it means to be at the bottom of the barrel. The sermon ends, the Purples cheer and chant for their Messiahs. Serpent remained silent as he stood up, turning on his heels and walking out of the room. Serpent knew this place like it was his own hive. He's been here multiple times, playing his long con game with Mellia. He didn't care about her. His pale feelings were a facade for getting what he wants. Getting intel from the Clurch was a simple task for someone like Serpent. Hacking came to him naturally. He was a smart cookie after all. He collected whatever he needed while within the Clurch's walls. And no one was the wiser. Some of the Clowns still disliked an "Outsider" being amongst their ranks, but no one could say no to Mellia. Their pretty little princess, their blessing from the Messiahs. She was one of the few girls in the Clurch who were basically treated like royalty because of her Ancestor's legacy. Disgusting. Pathetic. Serpent couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand how Highbloods could get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted and however they wanted it. Their gold-painted lives and flowery lies made him sick. Which is why he decided to become an "Insider" to the Clurch. To gather as much information as possible. To bring down the Clurch once and for all. He'll give out all the information he collected as well, to anyone who wishes to know more. Spread information, let all of their secrets fall into the hands of other outsiders. His ultimate goal is to ruin everything the Highbloods love and hold dear to their pushers. Purge the world of filth. Then the planet can be reborn.

#homestuck #hiveswap #writing #fantroll writing #serpent #windy writes

[podmasonryandconstructionus]

Professional Chimney Repair Services: A Serious Danger to Your House

Consumers' disregard for Chimney Repair Contractors in Waltham has been shown to cause extensive problems. Over 25.000 fires are reported annually, according to various records. Some may ask why victims do nothing despite being aware of the danger. This is because it's possible that they are unaware of the role that the chimney plays in the home. Chimneys have long been standard in both private and public structures. This building is frequently used as a design emblem because of how well it matches a wide range of aesthetics.

In the past, this building had a vital purpose: to provide warmth throughout the long, harsh winters. The amount of wood burned in the chimney was sufficient to see them through the cold months. These days, we use a variety of gadgets to get the job done. This building, however, has become a symbol for incorporating traditional elements into modern design. Companies specializing in masonry work have also perfected the art of matching chimneys to newer structures.

It's important for homeowners to know what they're taking on when they install a chimney. They can consult with specialists to find out if they are ready to deal with these issues. The building has to be thoroughly inspected and cleaned.

Why do people in Waltham need Chimney Repair Companies?

Damage occurs when people don't take care to avoid it. If the damage is severe enough, it could cause a chimney fire. Most people think it is extremely unlikely, so they don't think they have anything to worry about. This is due to their lack of background information. Misconceptions could also cause people to draw the wrong conclusions.

It's possible that customers won't notice any problems until it's too late. Usually, chimney fires occur while no one is home. It has caused property damage on multiple occasions. Chimney Repair Waltham is typically caused by a number of different things, the most common of which include soot buildup, water leakage, a cracked or broken chimney, etc. The good news is that when consumers take the required precautions, these problems can be resolved.

Chimney Repair in Waltham: What can homeowners do to avoid the need for professional help?

After a while, any chimney might start to show signs of wear and tear. There's no need to freak out, however; a good chunk of these problems have solutions. Seeking help as soon as possible is crucial. The homeowner should know the basic warning signals that indicate the need for chimney repairs. All of them will be considered in this.

Fraying Mortar Joints

Damage to the crown that has caused it to split apart

Rust

Black Smog Putrid Scent White Rust

People who experience these Chimney Repair Waltham should contact a professional right away. Carbon monoxide gas, which is fatal to humans, may be released by the damaged building.

How do people find Chimney Repair Contractors in Waltham?

The fact that the problem may not even be recognised by the public is the most pressing concern. One way to find out is to have a professional chimney cleaning and inspection service check it out. Some individuals wrongly believe they can handle everything on their own. Some of the grime and residue, however, is difficult to remove. The firms possess the expertise required to assess the building and clean its interior walls extensively. In addition, the whole flue will be inspected by means of cameras. This allows them to fix the bricks and, if required, replace the lining.

This preventative maintenance is essential in order to avoid expensive Chimney Repair Waltham. Homeowners should use similar caution when selecting a service provider. The market's top players are seasoned veterans when it comes to dealing with various chimney styles. This implies they are well equipped to deal with any problem. The business will staff a specialised group to consult with clients on issue analysis and solution selection.

Companies like POD Masonry and Construction, who are industry leaders, recognize the gravity of the problem and provide workable solutions.

#chimneyservices #chimneyrepairs #chimney inspection

[doccywhomst]

what your favorite doctor says about you (MEAN edition)

before we get into this, i just wanna say that nearly all of these are applicable to me because i love all of the doctors, so please don't feel too attacked. but also, feel attacked.

theta sigma: you're a miserable pile of fanon lore and desperately want to live the romantic fantasy of playing hooky to skip stones across a sunlit lake with your childhood-bestfriends-to-enemies-to-frenemies gay love interest

first doctor: you're routinely prepared to commit murder with a rock in the event of any slight inconvenience

second doctor: i... i.... i can't find anything mean to say about you. in my head, you're a little clown wearing clothes that are too big. there we go.

third doctor: pure of heart, dumb of ass, home of sexual. you're a himbo pretending to be a scientist. you don't know anything about the moon or sun, just like the writers of his first series.

fourth doctor: you're a little weirdo who loves the horrible special effects. you'll gobble up any terrible content, but at least we have that in common

fifth doctor: angry golden retriever who listens to the beach boys

sixth doctor: you like this show a little too much (just kidding, that's impossible) and you're a trainwreck of a human, your life is completely off the rails, you desperately need therapy

seventh doctor: you genuinely liked Survival, which should be a crime, and we all know that you're mostly here for Ace

eighth doctor: you're a sadist and a masochist at the same time, you're a freak of nature, you're disgusting, I'm gonna kill you, here's 200 dollars

war doctor: you're already so emo that I don't even want to insult you, i feel like you'll start weeping

shalka doctor: you're so obsessed with this show that you'll cling to any little scrap of it and beg for a crumb of serotonin. i bet you read and write a lot of fanfiction

ninth doctor: see shalka doctor. also, you need a lot of therapy

tenth doctor: you're touch-deprived and live vicariously through the romantic exploits of characters on a children's science fiction show. also, old small gremlin man in cage

eleventh doctor: you're straight in a gay way or gay in a straight way, and neither of these are strictly insults, but they're true. also your fashion and music tastes are literally putrid, but you'll take that as a compliment

twelfth doctor: your ideal best friend is an old man who's actively rude to you and routinely puts you in mortal danger, but you don't even care because you're literally in love with him, and you love him even though he's hopelessly inaccessible and will never love you back. to be fair, we've all been there

thirteenth doctor: you love the drama, don't lie. you like putting characters through the Pain Machine and it's a reflection of your trauma

ruth!doctor: see shalka doctor. but otherwise you're beautiful and perfect.

#sorry if these are too on the nose #doctor who #thirteenth doctor #twelfth doctor #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #ninth doctor #eighth doctor #seventh doctor #sixth doctor #fifth doctor #fourth doctor #third doctor #second doctor #first doctor #shalka doctor #scream of the shalka #ruth!doctor #theta sigma #academy era #classic who

[what-even-is-sleep]

Heyo DP (and possibly BNHA?) fandom! I’m trying my hand at writing fanfic for the first time in uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh six years? I don’t know if this will go anywhere at all and want to keep it super low pressure to try and trick my brain into liking writing for a bit longer, so pls don’t ask for more (...yet. We’ll see if this turns into something). Anyways, here’s a snippet of a dp x bnha au that’s been beleaguering my brain for the past week. Enjoy!

Morals Hurt AU

The last thing Danny remembered was hurtling through the ghost zone and towards a small-ish purple door. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell of blood and day-old chicken pot pie. Ew - he thought - he also felt it, soaking into through his left shoe. It wasn’t even comparable to ecto-contaminated sausages, but the forceful and unpleasant odor did well to wake him up fully. He categorized his surroundings:

Taste: Rotting trash, someone’s old moth-bitten sweaters, possibly weeks-old chicken pot-pie.

Touch: Left shoe: bent underneath him in a perfect baseball slide, but almost fully soaked in pot pie (now mentally placed at nearly two-years-old. Chicken and deliciousness should never get to this point of putrid.)

Body: Ragdolled on top of a dumpster two times his width (but comically, half his length. His other foot (with the shoe half off) had marked the end of his cramped leg by sticking out like the little red flag on a mailbox would.) 

Sight: Gray sky, towering concrete on either side and probably behind as well. An alleyway, at best guess. A once-green dumpster, now streaked with grime and– 

Blood. Ectoplasm. 

And then sound burst in - the final sense (other than his ghost ones.) He hadn’t noticed before, but Danny’s introspection had taken place in the vacuum of just-got-the-shit-kicked-out-of-me silence. It ended with a swoosh, and then sirens, helicopters, and honking horns (oh my!) blared loudly, with no concern for his building headache and, he sniffed to check, his probably broken nose. 

“Gh!” He exclaimed, jerking a bit as he eloquently finished assessing the situation. He touched his nose with one hand and then with both as he hissed out a quiet “ouch ouch ouch motherfranker.”

Well.

His nose was definitely broken. And with each movement, he was folding further into the dumpster (any more and he’d actually fit, god help him), and the freaking chicken pot pie had splorged to cover his entire left leg and butt. 

What a great welcome to this new world. 

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #dp x bnha #Morals Hurt AU #bnha x dp #yall im writing and i dont hate it woah #mypost #fanfiction #drabbles

[holykillercake]

FRIED EGGS

KOBY x Pirate!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: Being infiltrated as a Marine and keeping your feelings under control was easy until you were assigned to work with Marine Captain Koby. How you wished he was a jerk.

highlight: ¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨

warnings: read under the risk of developing diabetes.

notes: Hey, guys! This was a lovely request from @pure-kirarin! <3 I had to stop other projects to make this one because Koby threw me out of my comfort zone hahaha I really hope you like!! ALSO 1) Happy Birthday Sabo-kun! ALSO 2) In order to add more dept to the story, the main character is part of a Yonkos´crew, but I wrote in a way that all fit, so choose your favorite! ALSO 3) ART ALERT!

Leave comments, hearts and love!

¨You have been doing a remarkable job in such little time, Commander L/N. We all have great expectations regarding your transference to our Marine Headquarters.¨ 

The words of the Rear Admiral barely scratched your mind as you discreetly observed the pink-haired boy´s reflection on the crystal clear window. 

He maintained a similar posture to yours: chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and stomach in. However, while your fingers remained paralleled to your trousers, you took a glimpse of his clenched fist, thumb fidgeting the side of his index finger. 

¨Vice Admiral Tsuru was reluctant to sign your transfer. She said you remind her of herself in the past, which is always an excellent compliment to hear.¨ you nodded, acknowledging his words  ¨We´re glad we convinced her.¨

Your heart warmed with his words, and you almost felt bad because you knew the disappointing outcome O-Tsuru-san would have at the end of this. She trained you with the iron face of a merciless soldier, and the elegance that resembled the animal of her name.

It has been three years since you received the green card from your captain to part ways in a long-term solo mission. A journey to excavate the putrid secrets of the so-called defenders of the law. You learned after a short time that justice is not so black and white.

Not that you planned to reveal the dirt, no. That intel your captain could sell to the Revolutionary Army and keep the capital running. You were interested in the arms race, the corrupt diplomacy, and more importantly, the dark pipes where traitors flowed.

Someone from inside the Yonkos was feeding the Marines with crucial information about the Emperors´ activities. And in such a close fight, you could not take those risks.

All other Emperors must have their own undercover agents within the Marines, but even that was a dispute. You could point some names to your boss, who confirmed what was suspected. Those would usually be the best of the best, extravagant and loud.

But not you. You didn't have to make that much noise. You slid between the floors of New Marineford like a snake swimming with the current. Earning the respect of your superiors and being promoted without ringing any bells. You accepted each medal with a firm salutation and relentless performance. 

¨The trip must have been displeasing. Submerging ten thousand meters underwater and rising to these fiendish waters require a good rest. Our Marine Captain Koby will escort you to your quarters, Commander Y/N. The remaining instructions shall be presented tomorrow.¨

You saluted the Rear Admiral in front of you and turned to the exit, passing by Koby, who waited for you to leave first.  When your paths crossed, the pace of your heartbeats quickened, pumping more blood through your body and leaving a burning sensation on your cheeks. 

The involuntary response was instantly interpreted as alertness to danger, which needed to be handled with caution. 

Can´t let my guard down around this one, you thought.

In fact, you planned to keep as much distance as you could from him. An officer let slip that he has been gaining incredible control over his Observation Haki since the Paramount War. 

But the wind seemed to change direction, and you began to swim against the current. When the morning came, you were assigned to be his partner for an undetermined time, and he would act as your superior. The idea of being bossed around by a younger marine got your temper sparked. 

Only he was not like the others, treating you in a patronizing and condescending way. He spoke to you with the same cordiality and politeness he addressed everybody else. 

Slowly, your concrete cold expression began to soothe. You would still remind yourself how annoying his good manners were, though. So annoying, seriously!

¨Good morning, Y/N-san!¨ he greeted as you joined him for breakfast. 

¨Good morning, Koby.¨ 

¨Our Border Force correspondent sent his report early in the morning with information about possible Yonkos´ alliances in the Wano Country. We are arranging a meeting as soon as possible.¨ 

You didn´t like to handle work so early, but this subject, in particular, raised your spirits. ¨Good. It was about time.¨

You noticed that he wore a different headband. ¨What happened?¨ 

¨Hm?¨ he brought the soup bowl close to his mouth. 

¨The bandana. Green, with the fried eggs.¨ he choked on the miso soup, coughing like he had swallowed poison. 

You reached for a paper tissue and handed it to him. ¨K-Koby, are you ok?¨

¨Y-Y/N... Y/N-san...¨ he coughed some more ¨They´re not... fried eggs...¨

¨Oh...¨ your brows raised slightly ¨What are they?¨

A depressive aura grew around him ¨They are flowers, YN-san...¨

The edge of your lips contorted as you tried to hide a smile. You haven´t felt like smiling genuinely for years. Annoying boy!

From that moment on, ignoring him became more difficult. He started to ask you to train with him or invite you to spend some time with him and Helmeppo whenever you had free time. Eventually, he began to ask you how he looked before an important meeting. 

Most of the time, you would reply something like ¨ok¨. But sometimes, the mouth was quicker than the brain, and you would let an ¨impeccable¨ slip out, followed by an awkward throat clearing and blushed cheeks. 

From both sides.

•

¨Oh my-¨ you stopped yourself from finishing the sentence. 

You were chosen to complete this mission due to your excellent skills in hiding emotions and acting calm under stressful situations. No one could break you. 

Within the Marines, no joke could make you crack a smile, and no torture could make you spill secrets. 

Why did you want to ask if he was ok?

Koby had entered his office with bumps and bloody bruises over his face. His always neat uniform was blotchy, and he carried a first aid kit. 

¨Garp-san paid a visit.¨ He sat on the couch and opened the white box, throwing everything on the coffee table. ¨I bet it wasn't like this with Tsuru-san.¨ he chuckled. 

¨No. She would beat me up, wash me and hang me up to dry.¨ 

You shot from the chair, moving towards the clumsy pinkette, who struggled to attend to his injuries. He tried to hold the mirror with one hand and suture his gash with the other. 

¨Thank yo-¨

¨Shh. Don´t move.¨

You leaned closer to have a better look, giving Koby the same chance. Your delicate perfume smelled like it was tailor-made for you. Your breathing was slightly irregular, and your lip twitched with every given stitch. Your fingers felt like feathers on his skin, so much that he didn´t even feel a sting. 

The job was fast and efficient, making Koby wish Garp had put more effort into his Love Fist. Grabbing a piece of wet cotton, you cleaned the dried blood.  

¨Alright...¨ you whispered.

¨Alright...¨ he whispered back.

You were inches apart from his face, your eyes traveling across the scar on his forehead, the pink locks, and kind features. Your mind traced back all the way to the Paramount War. You had very little knowledge about him, but the words he spoke that day have always made your heart pound like cannonballs. 

You will make an excellent Admiral one day, Koby. 

I hope you don´t hate me. 

¨Y-Y/N-san...¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Your smile is beautiful.¨

¨What?¨ The stupid scene of yours was interrupted like a DJ stopping the record player. 

With cheeks getting pinker than his hair, you shot up and marched back to the chair and your newspaper. ¨You clean this up.¨ 

He left a low chuckle out and began gathering the mess. 

Oh, no, Y/N. You have got to be kidding me. 

He is a freaking marine. Breathe. 

There were a vast number of reasons why you couldn´t like him: from him being a Marine Captain and you being a pirate to the fact that your mission was coming to a conclusion.

Meaning that your journey as his partner would be very soon reaching its end. The meeting with this mysterious correspondent regarding the Yonkos´ operations in the New World would be the last move in this chess game. You would be going home. Mission completed. Everything perfect, right? 

Right, perfect. Impeccable! Ugh!

•

¨... confirm secure line.¨

¨This is Border Officer code 404890. Secure line confirmed.¨ you spoke with a low but clear voice through the nail transponder. 

¨What´s the status on our birdie?¨

¨Positive. The birdie is located at 03:24:01.¨ you gave your boss a coordinate to the name of the Marine informant. The answer you took three years to find out remained on file number one, third page, suspect number twenty-four. 

An amused laugh echoed on your end, and you buried the speaker on your jacket to muffled the sound. 

¨At least he is not one of ours.¨ a chuckle ¨Great job, Y/N.¨

¨Thank you, boss.¨

¨I know this mustn't have been easy, but you were impeccable as always.¨

Yeah, impeccable. 

¨You know the protocol now. We´ll see each other in a few days. You´ll have a party waiting for you, kid.¨

¨Aye, aye, boss. But I want the good booze.¨  Both of you laughed. 

You finished the call, and the smile on your lips died as the image of a pink-haired boy invaded your mind. You wished he was a jerk like everybody else. 

It would have been so easy. 

¨Who were you talking to?¨ your chest contracted, pushing the air out of your lungs and sending extra blood supply to your muscles. 

You hid the transponder into your jacket and turned, facing your Marine Captain. 

¨Eavesdropping, Koby?¨

What should I do?

¨Y/N-san, who were you talking to?¨ he repeated himself, offering the benefit of the doubt. You sighed.

¨My captain.¨ 

Why the need to be honest with him?

¨Y/N-san, please don´t tell me-¨

¨I´m sorry, Koby. I wish I didn´t have to do this.¨ you couldn´t bring yourself to face him.

¨A-Are you a pirate? Why?¨

You chuckled ¨Why am I a pirate?¨

¨Why did you do this?¨ his face was pale, making your guts twitch in guilt.

¨I´m on a mission. But I´ll leave soon.¨

¨You are like... Vergo-san.¨ he sounded disappointed.

¨I am nothing like Vergo. You know this.¨ or at least you hoped he did. 

He closed the door slowly, eyes fixed on your figure. The bright light from the window made him look like an ethereal painting.

While you tried to predict his next move, whether he was going to interrogate you or kick your ass, Koby acted calm and collected, not hesitating. He trusted his Observation Haki to guide his next move. Or maybe his heart.

You saw a pink blur closing distance like a missile, and before you could dodge, his hands pulled you by the waist, connecting your bodies and lips. 

He forced your back to meet the thick window with a gasp that was muffled by the kiss. His touch was rough upon the fabric of your uniform, but his mouth felt soft against yours.

Your hands moved to his hair, removing the round pair of glasses and the green bandana so you could get lost in his locks. His grip was harsh under the fabric of your uniform, but his hair felt soft on your fingertips. 

A moan escaped your lips when he parted the kiss with a loud snap and struck the glass with both hands, keeping you trapped in the middle. You let go of his hair and grabbed him by the collar, not letting him go away.

¨I am kissing you... but I am angry, Y/N-san...¨ his breath was heavy and carried with a myriad of emotions. 

¨I know... I am sorry.¨

¨Why?¨

¨Because I like you, Koby. A lot.¨ he paused for a second, fighting the urge to admit the same.

¨What was your mission?¨

This is the last lie, I promise, Koby. ¨The Marines possessed vital information about something my boss wants. I needed to get it.¨

¨Now that I know that you´re a pirate and that you stole Marine´s assets, I´m gonna have to hunt you down.¨

¨I´ll be waiting for you.¨ 

You stared him in the eyes, and he kissed you to stop himself from saying what he really wanted. 

I love you, Y/N-san.

Diary of Koby-Meppo: The Fried Egg Life Crisis.

💕 @vemuabhi

#koby #koby x reader #coby #coby x reader #marines #marineford #new marineford #paramount war #the warof the best #vice admiral #tsuru-san #otsuru-san #garp #monkey d garp #fleet admiral #sakazuki #akainu #rear admiral #four emperors #emperors of the sea #yonko #shanks #red hair shanks #kaido #kaido of the beasts #big mom #charlottle linlin #marshall d. teach #blackbeard #helmeppo

[bighitfics]

MACABRE |

MASTERLIST

TEASER | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX/FINALE

SNEAK PEEK |

❝ The sparkle in her eyes, the carefreeness in her laughter, I can never forget that rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins❞ said jungkook his big doe eyes pensive and in haze like he was reminiscing a scene from a romcom movie. You let out a hearty giggle at his lovestruck poet like words thinking whoever had this man's heart won at life. It was a pleasant surprise to have an insight to this side of Jungkook.

The 'all work no time for love' impression you had of him in the beginning was completely wrong because he was the total opposite.

His heart was softer than a plushie.

What you missed were the details, deliberately targeted at you.

The said man could only sigh at your obliviousness to his hints. How many more desperate moves does he need to make for the realisation to finally sink in your brain?

You make him go fucking crazy.

If only you could see behind the curtains and acknowledge the meaning, if only. . . "Jungkook, you really are in deep for this aren't you?" You chirped with a cheeky smirk that he found sickeningly adorable, your full lips looked so inciting when you smiled, begging to be kissed and sucked the right way.

He realised at this very moment he was fucked up. You were making his mind go haywire, every little thing you did even the bare minimum it never ceased to not drive him crazy yet he kept calm forcing a nervous chuckle at you, he was a respectable, collected man and you shall not make him act like some high school boy freaking out as if the popular girl he's been crushing over for years asked him out.

.......

“I lost you to him didn't I? I never stood a chance, it's always been him no matter how much I try to make you love me back.” implored Jungkook voice trembling yet firm with a determination his eyes were pointed at you with desperation and anxiousness and you could see his bruised hands he might have tried giving himself pain in some sort of way.

You could feel his tension growing and you hated how it painfully tugged at your heart to see him like this.

You've never seen Jungkook look as helpless as he looked right at this moment, he's always been a clean man as though he came straight out of the shower but now he looked filthy like he hadn't been taking shower as he should look like because he was a dirty man hidden under the mask of an organised person.

He was frightened but not because of being inside the putrid prison for the rest of his life but of your departure.

He could take the pain of the entire universe on his shoulders but never can he continue living without you by his side. His stomach churned with an unexplainable emotion deep down he could tell this would be the last time he'd ever see you and it made him loose his fucking mind.

He couldn't live without you.

Even passing second sounds like torture. His eyes welled up with unshed tears as he silently plead for your forgiveness. "____" he whispered your name timidly like he would break in no time and as if it would calm his erratic heart and it did.

Your own weepy eyes narrowed at him how dare he take your name. You couldn't handle breathing the same air as him for one more second it made your skin churn as unwanted flashbacks made their way in your head you had no control over your mind.

There were tons of things you wished to tell him and half of them were curses for his deeds.

The rest were something you'd keep pretending to not have felt or known because you will stoop low in your own eyes if you ever accept them out loud.

Nevertheless you don't buy him any explaination, that would be a misuse of time.

And you walked away, icing your heart from pitying his anguished screams. It was the end to your torment.

If someone told you that a year ago that one day you will make it out of that perfect prison life Jungkook had implanted for you out of the reality that he abducted you from you would've only stare back at them in disbelief and tell them there was no way for you to get away from him and his sickening affectionate actions weren't helping in any way it would have been easier to paint him as the villain if he were a cruel captor who felt pleasure torturing his victim but he was anything but that.

It is hard to settle back in the reality because you had been away far too long.

What a relief that it's all over.

A/N : I love how this turned out! Do comment what you're anticipating next.

© bighitfics 2023

COMMENT & REBLOG.

don't be a silent reader.

#bts yandere #yandere jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #unrequited love #bts fic #jungkook moodboard #jungkook #yandere #yandere bts x reader #bts smut #bts jk #jk smut #dom jungkook #bts x reader #yandere x reader #jungkook x female reader #bighitfics #macabre jungkook bighitfics

[implexedactions]

Yandere Vil!Hawks - Heaven

This was done as a prompt for @the-grimm-writer who I basically bullied (asked politely) into giving me a prompt. “uhh maybe villain Hawks with a hero darling, they keep going back and forth until he finally traps them”.

Warning, this IS yandere, and contains many themes associated with yandere.

---

You like to think you’re a pretty good hero. You’re well ranked and generally liked. You do your job well and efficiently, almost never letting a villain escape.

…almost.

You walk onto the crime scene. It happened on a major street, so the area’s been evacuated for now.  A civilian, major veins sliced, and tendons cut through. According to witnesses, it happened instantly. The person was walking, a flurry of red surrounded them, and a mutilated corpse was the result. They most likely died within seconds. You knew this body, sort of. He was just a flirt at a bar, you entertained the thought, but nothing came of it.

You see a red feather, off to the side, and sigh. This was obviously Hawks, he taunts you, both literally and metaphorically. His blood-red feathers, his apathetic smile, his weird angry flirting, it drives you mad. He deserves to pay, and yet, he hasn’t been captured.

“Hey, Angel, what brings you to these parts?” comes a sleazy voice from behind you.

In an instant you turn around and jump back, seeing Hawks a bit too close for comfort. You press a wristband, sending out an alert for all heroes in the area.

“Aww, did I scare you?” he says, looking you directly in the eyes.

“I will make sure you pay for this!” you say, activating your quirk.

Wings of white light sprout from behind your back, as light wraps around you, creating armour and a sword. The Guardian Angel Quirk.

“Don’t you look so cute playing hero!” Hawks says, cooing at you, not intimidated at the least.

You dive forward, bringing the sword against his feathers. He looks you in the eyes and frowns.

“Angel…please. Consider my offer, join me! We could rule this city together!” He pushes his sword against yours, shoving me backwards.

“A society without compassion or heroes, and where lawlessness reigns? I hope you can forgive me for not seeing the appeal.”  You bring your sword against his again, equally matching his strength. Other heroes should get here soon, you just need to hold out.

“Oh, PLEASE! How much compassion do you think exists in this society?! Look around you, sweetheart! A government organisation took a child to turn them into a war machine! Where’s the compassion in that, huh? The society you inhabit is practically the exact same as mine, you’re just in denial about it!” He jumped back, gliding a few meters before stopping on the ground.

“Okay fair, that sucks, but was going out to kill really the best option? You’ve heard of therapy, right? Alcohol even?” You’re on edge, he could be attacking a lot harder, right now it seems like he’s just toying with you.

“Oh darling, I doubt therapy was going to topple the commission. So yes, killing their members, everyone who led me to become this demon? Of course, it’s the best option!” He twirled around on the spot, wings blocking your attacks still.

“But…this guy, he wasn’t a part of the commission?” you question.

“Oh…he’s almost as bad, he tried to take you away from me!” He said, looking you in the eyes with a joyous expression plastered on his.

You falter, and he uses this to shove you back. You fall onto the ground, back against the pavement.

“I-what?”

“He was hitting on you, no? It was obvious, he was so sleazy, too. So, I took him out, can’t have someone getting in the way of our love story!”

“Y-you love me?” You say, a confused look crossing your face.

“Of course, my angel! You’re just so perfect! With those cute little wings, your angelic features, don’t you think they complement my demonic ones so well? We are made to be!”

He saunters towards you, wide grin adorning his face. His gaze pierces your body.

“You’re s-sick…and delusional as well if you EVER think I’m going to love you! You’re just some f-fucking broken freak…I’m not yours just because you want me to be!”

“Oh, angel, you’ll see things different soon! You’re my forbidden love story, a hero and a villain, drawn to each other but separated by their putrid society! I hated my quirk and what it led me to become. The commission, they made me a monster, my demonic bloody wings. But then, I saw you! Your wings of light, an angel! MY angel! Don’t worry my sweet, sweet dove! I assure you we will soon be together!”

You panic, causing your quirk to fail. The light flickers out, and you’re left on the ground, crawling backwards. He reaches down to your leg and grips it tightly, not letting you go. He forces a quirk cancelling band on it. You shake and turn to stare into his deluded eyes. You’re panicking, hands trying to grab onto anything but failing to find purchase.

“Once the other heroes get here, you’ll be in so much trouble!” A weak line maybe, but you’re kind of out of options. No quirk, no weapons, and no backup? You’re basically screwed.

“Oh, Angel. That’s the best part! They won’t even know what happened to you! If you haven’t noticed, no heroes have shown up! Your communications have been blocked! The “heroes” are all battling a team of villians, a flood appearing from nowhere, and a fire spreading through the city faster than naturally possible!  No one’s going to notice you slipping away to our little nest, Angel!”

He wraps you up in his arms, blocking you from fighting back.

“Come now, my Angel, I’ve got a beautiful Eden to show you!”

#yandere #yandere hawks #vil!hawks #villian hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #Yandere Keigo Takami #yandere keigo x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #hawks #bnha #yandere bnha #yandere mha #mha #implexedactions #Long Fic #ImplexedWriting

[laudthingcat]

Heyhey Winter! ❄️

Since you like the DBD Ghostie too I was wondering how you picture his appearance?? How he looks under the mask and robes hehe

Because he doesn't have a canonical look right?? All we have is a name

Ily ! 😙💚

Ahh yes omg i love the fact that he doesn't have a canonical look because we can just imagine our own perfect criminal 😆

ALRIGHTY SO i imagine danny having black, a bit curly hair, longer than most guys but not long enough to reach the shoulders. Dark eyes and a scar on his forehead. I also imagine him the kind to have dark circles (that somehow make him look even hotter 😩). He has a beautiful nose and his lips are always cracked because he unconsciously bites them when he gets too excited while stalking a new victim)

As for his body, i know for a fact that he's nicely built. Not necessarily because he works out (he does but nothing too extreme), but because he walks a lot and because his victims always put up a fight. Some aren't much of a problem but for some he really needs some strength.

Bejshs never really thinked of it, it's just the imagine i had in mind whenever i thought of him and BOI, is it doing some things to me 😩

But how about you Putrid?? 👀 Am so curious what other people picture him looking as bwjwsh

Tysm for this?? Freaking loved writing this down and i couldn't stop smiling because it felt like i was describing the love of my life lmao i need help

Ily tooo 😚😚💕

#❄; winter replies #❄; winter and moots #putrid♡ #ghostface my beloved

[drivingsideways]

For @the-ever-present-julie, based off this tumblr post.

Five times Dean and Cas kissed and never talked about it, and the one time they did and still won’t talk about it. 

Five.

It's not like Dean hasn't thought about it before.

That first month after he crawled his way out of his grave? He'd never told Sam or Bobby, but that entire month, hell, more like three,  he'd been convinced that it was all just one of Alastair's tricks. That Alastair had moved on from the crude, visceral pleasure of blood and guts and shredded flesh to this—letting him dream, and then, right when he'd let himself believe it, that the impossible had happened, Alastair would take it away.

The sick fuck.

But two could play that game, alright?

Dean- Dean was good at this. Dean knew Alastair, like calling to like in the putrid depths of hell. Dean would find a way to trip him up, it was like that time with the djinn. Find the thing that didn't fit, the thing that was impossible to explain, and then tug at that thread until it all unraveled.

Well, he didn't have to look too far.

Castiel, angel of the Lord, who made his ears bleed, and his stomach swoop—well— come the fuck on, there was no possible way his mind could have generated this. This was Alastair, through and through, Alastair who had put him on the rack and taken more pieces out of him than he'd known existed, who'd worked him over and over and over, and somewhere along the way learnt enough about Dean that he'd—

The handprint buzzed and ached and tingled and Castiel's blue, blue eyes had looked right through him, and said things like you don't think you deserve to be saved, and if  I tell you something, will you keep it a secret, I'm not a hammer, and no, this would not be the thing he let himself believe, this would not be one more way that Alastair broke him. In the backseat of his car, Anna had fitted her palm onto the scar, her delicate, smooth palm too small for it, the whorls of her fingers caressing the edges, and it had been electric, and all wrong, because it wasn't her mark that Dean carried on his friggin' re-hymenated body (it wasn't her who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and Dean's body knew it in a way that Dean wasn't going to think about, let alone—)

That sonuvabitch Alastair would not break him with a fairy tale that innocent people told their children, angels watch over you, but his mother had not been innocent in all of this, had she, she had sold Sammy to the Devil, and Castiel had laid a hand on his shoulder (but had not touched his mark, why hadn't—) and had looked at Dean with something like sorrow, and didn't seem to mind when Dean called him Cas, brought him down to his level, and fuck, here he was again, out of options, out of luck, out of fuel, and his brother was someone he didn't recognize.

The sickest thing was how that was the part  that had felt real, felt painful in a way that Alastair could have never devised. Dean's soul was putting himself in the hands of a demon bitch, and there was fuck all that Dean could do about it. This was how he broke then, in the words of a prayer, the first he'd ever said, and he hadn't  known whom he was praying to, but it had been Cas who showed up, eyes bluer than any summer sky Dean had ever seen, face striated by the colours of a vending machine, and said, faith is a good sign, Dean. What was it a sign of, Dean would have liked to know, and it wasn't faith, not by a long shot, but what could a creature like Castiel have known of desperation?  Castiel who stood close, too close, but had touched him only twice, who'd said, it's not blame that rests on you, it's fate, and yeah, that was fucking Winchester Gospel for you, cursed from the start, the two of them, before they were in the womb, born under a bad sign.

But Cas had helped, and Dean had begun to think—but of course, Cas left, and there was only poor, stupid Jimmy Novak, and then Cas was back, but not really, Cas was a stranger, and Dean didn't know when he'd stopped thinking of Cas as a stranger, and just, strange—

 Dean had laid one across Castiel's marble-face that didn't shatter, tried, because what else could he have done? This is real, this is the only thing that's worth it and even before the disappointment of having Cas leave could sink in, the handprint had buzzed and ached and tingled  as Cas pressed him against a wall and pressed a palm against his lips and then bled on the floor, for Dean, (whom he didn't serve) and Cas had said, I'll hold them all off, go save him, but of course it had been too late, because that was the story of Dean's life, too late, too late.

Cas comes back, and oh look, Cas has learnt what desperation means, after all. There's something wild in his eyes, that he tries to hide but doesn't succeed when he says, we need God, it's not theological, it's strategic, and if Dean had a moment to take a breath, he would have wanted to sit Cas down, and say, listen man, I understand it, but this is a road to nowhere, you're only going to waste your time, you gotta stop loving what can't love you back, and yeah, that'd have been hypocritical of him, but so what, that was pretty low down on Dean's laundry list of sins.

But it's the Apocalypse, and as it happens Dean's got his own shit to deal with, and Cas isn't his responsibility, so what if he just died for Dean or whatever, alright, Dean owes him, but not like that.

And now it's the end of the world, their last night on earth, and Dean's not too late to make Cas smile at him, confused but fond, and Castiel's smile is nothing like Jimmy Novak's. Cas is nothing like Jimmy Novak who'd just been a naive man in an ugly suit, and well. He'd promised Cas a good time, and Dean's not got a lot to give Cas, by way of thanks or comfort or anything, and what had Cas said that time? Everything on earth is pain, but that's only cause he doesn't know, the good parts, the best parts, and before Dean can chicken out of it, he's pressing Cas up against the Impala, and Cas is letting him, goes willing, pliant, staring at him, eyes wide, and Dean sees the moment it happens, the small hitch of breath he takes, that Cas, who doesn't need to breathe makes, and his eyes dart to Dean's lips and flash up again, and Dean's kissing him, and it's—riding a comet—

Cas doesn't know how to kiss.

But that's fine, that's a-ok, because Dean does, and Dean can show him, and Cas is a quick learner, zero to six hundred in twenty seconds or less, and now it's Dean who can't breathe except in loud, panting gasps, Cas's warm, strong hand wrapped with his around their dicks, not enough slick, a little too rough, too painful, perfect, perfect, and Cas is eating his face, teeth sharp and painful on Dean's lips, eyes still wide open and unblinking, the freak, but his gaze is hot and ferocious, and Dean's eyes flutter shut again on a moan, because Dean's burning, has been burning all this time, he realizes, for this, for—

Cas rips his sleeve off, jacket and shirt, both gone,  and then his hand is there, and Dean's coming, wet, thick and nasty all over an angel's hand, he should be going to hell for this, except Cas hadn't let him stay there, and hadn't thrown him back, and this was real, Dean shuddering, face hidden in the crook of Cas' neck, trembling, his knees giving way, but Cas' got him, the hand on his shoulder slipping lower, around his back to hold him up, holding him in place,  and Dean should— he should—

 Four.

He  wakes up alone in a motel room, and there is a tomorrow, and then the  day after, but no Cas, and then there is two thousand fucking fourteen, and Cas is still there in the ruins that Sam and Dean made of the world , jesus fucking christ on a candy stick, Cas is still there.

Cas is broken, because Dean did that to him, and Cas kisses him, once, open mouthed and filthy, and then draws back and says, the day I decide to stay, make sure I don't, please, if you ever cared even a little, promise me, and then Cas goes off to die with even-more-of-an-asshole-future-him, because that's just how he rolls.

 Three.

He shouldn't.

If that mook Zach's little thought experiment had taught him anything, it should have been this- that Cas was off limits.

That he shouldn't keeping finding ways to keep him close.

He shouldn't keep finding ways to kiss Cas, but that's exactly what he does.

The world's ending around them in slow motion and they are fucking.

They're fucking in dank, stinking alleys, blood running down Dean's chin, and Cas licking it up, and feeding it back to him, tongue practically molesting Dean's tonsils, fingers squeezing his neck, rubbing against each other fully clothed, until Dean's coming in his pants. They're fucking on stained  bedsheets of grimy hotel rooms, lights flickering, crackling, every electronic instrument in a five mile radius gone haywire, the smell of ozone and jizz making Dean dizzier, as Cas pounds him through four successive orgasms, each more spectacular and painful than the last, Dean's body a limp rag after. They're fucking squeezed together in the backseat of the Impala, Dean hunched over Cas, occasionally knocking his head on the roof, but he can't stop, won't stop, nothing has felt this good, a thick fat dick inside him, filling up his empty places, and  Cas slack-mouthed, and eyes closed under him, hands wrapped around Dean's biceps so tight that Dean's gotta wear long sleeves through the hottest summer in three centuries, so that Sammy won't ask.

Sam knows, of course he does.

Cas isn't subtle when he turns up, dishevelled, hair sticking out in five different directions, looking pissed off and tired; shrinking, somehow, but still with that crackling power about him, and not looking at anyone or anything except at Dean, like all the roads he's taken looking for God have only led him straight back to Dean. Sam's taken to clearing his throat awkwardly, and hot-footing it out of hearing range the moment Cas appears, and just as well, Dean doesn't have it in him anymore to be quiet, sprawled wide open on the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as  Cas fucks him fuck, fuck, fuck,  jesus fuck,  if he hadn't already gone to hell, surely this would send him there, profaning this holy thing of god, whose tongue was made for songs of praise and worship, and is instead all the way up Dean's ass, dragging an orgasm out of him.

It's alright, he reasons, on the days Cas is gone, and Sam is there, but gone.

Cas and him, they're not so different after all. They're both the disappointing sons of deadbeat dads, and Cas is losing his wings and his faith at approximately the same speed that Dean's losing everything and everyone, and the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and there's no way to fix it, no way to undo it, and he's going to have to kill the love of his life, and if this is his consolation prize, he's going to take it.

(Dean loves taking it.)

Dean will take it and he doesn't want to talk about it, and hey, apparently, neither does Cas, so that's peachy, that's perfect, and Dean shouldn't, but he does, and Cas lets him, and he does, right until Sam gets thrown into the pit, and Dean doesn't.

Cas' grace knits him together, once more, and then he's gone, and so is Dean.

 Two.

Cas comes back.

But he's more of a stranger than he'd ever been, even in that barn, what feels like a lifetime ago, and he won't talk, and sure as fuck won't listen, and his blue gaze when it meets Dean's is cool as lake water, as if Dean doesn't know what Cas sounds like, strung out of his mind with pleasure, from having Dean hold him down with a binding sigil and fuck him raw.

As if they'd never been friends, and perhaps they hadn't, that was just what it was like in the war, and the war was over, and so were they.

Cas is all impatience, and anger, and sullen resentment, brittle in a way that scares Dean if he really thinks about it, because it's Cas, and something's wrong, Dean can feel it deep in his bones, just like he knew with Sammy, but he—

Look, if Cas wants to reach him, he knows how to call.

But then it's too late (again) and there's a war (again, or it was never over, why is it never over), only this time it's Cas that Dean needs to kill, really kill, and fuck if he knows how, but in the end, all he can do is watch as Cas walks into the water, and all that's left of him is a stained, torn trenchcoat.

Dean keeps it.

He can't look at it, can't stand to, that entire year, but he keeps it.

And then Cas comes back (again), but then he's gone (again) and what had Dean expected, really?

And Dean's tired, ok, so tired, so tired and sick and done, and the war is still on—maybe he shouldn't have left Cas, maybe he should have tried harder, maybe he should have called, maybe it wouldn't have all gone to shit, if Dean hadn't screwed it up once again, hadn't failed—

 "Cas"  he says, squinting against the sun on his face, up at where Cas is perched on the roof of the Impala. "Why are you covered in bees?"

The air is filled with a humming that Dean's only 90% certain are the bees.

"They like me, Dean," says Cas, as though that were a reasonable explanation, and fuck knows, maybe it was, in that fucked up noodle of his. "They wanted me to stay with them."

Shit, fuck.

Dean rubs his hands over his eyes.

"You maybe want to come inside and talk?"

Crazy or not, they needed all the help they could—

Cas hops down from the car, and the bees rise up in an angry, buzzing cloud before settling back.

"Lose the bees first", says Dean, and then regrets it, when Cas stands before him naked as a new-born.

"Dude!" yelps Dean, "Come on! Where the fuck are your clothes?"

"I—", says Cas, sounding lost and forlorn as he stares down at himself. "I'm not sure. The bees didn't like them."

And fuck, like this, Dean can see that Cas is just skin and bone, pale skin stretched over prominent ribs, hip bones jutting out—

"Well, mojo them back from wherever you left them", Dean growls, "There's a sandwich in it for you."

Cas looks up, hopeful.

"Peanut butter?"

"Sure", says Dean and hopes to god the vending machine has  something that resembles a sandwich. "But get some.." he waves his hands, not looking at Cas, because it hurts to see him like this.

There's nothing like a sandwich in the machine, so he ends up instructing Cas to wait for him in the room while he makes a quick run to the nearest store. He picks up some orange juice and bananas while he's at it, along with the bread, peanut butter and jam.

"This is very kind of you, Dean" says Cas, as he sits (fully clothed, in his hospital scrubs and trenchcoat), his hands in his lap.

"So, what, you need to eat these days?" Dean queries. "You look like you've just spent six months on a fad diet".

Cas looks away, up at the ceiling.

"The grace is more useful for other things" he says, "There's so much to do. So many creatures in pain. I forget to."

"Listen", starts Dean, because he can guess where this is coming from, hell, it isn't like—

"Is my sandwich ready?"

Dean slides it across the table, and watches as Cas wolfs it down.

There's a bit of jam that gets stuck to the corner of his mouth, and Dean gestures at it, and then, when Cas looks confused, reaches out to—

Cas flinches.

Dean freezes, hand stuck awkwardly in mid-air, throat closing up.

He leans back, withdrawing his hand.

"You've got some jam smeared at the corner of your mouth, like a goddamned three year old, Cas".

"Oh", says Cas, and it vanishes.

Dean swallows the guess you don’t mind wasting your mojo on that then, that sits on his tongue, and Cas finishes his sandwich, suddenly quiet, staring down at his sandwich,  though it wasn't like he'd been saying anything before, but it's a different sort of quiet between them now, filled with all the things that Dean wants to scream at him, and can't.

Cas doesn't touch the bananas, but slurps the orange juice, loudly.

Dean watches as Cas licks his lips, tongue darting out to taste the last of it.

When he looks up, Cas is looking at him.

He feels his cheeks heat, caught out.

"You’re sweet", says Cas, suddenly. "Sweeter than all the honey in the world".

And before Dean can process it, he leans forward, brushing his lips against Dean's; a butterfly of a kiss, and then he's gone, in a quiet whoosh, and Dean's left alone, and when he wets his suddenly parched lips, he can taste the faint bitter-sour flavour of canned orange on them.

 One

Well, Dean's not making the same mistake twice.

There's no way he's gonna leave Cas behind.

Where's the angel, he asks, as he hacks his way through Purgatory, where's the angel?

Cas, he prays, c'mon man. Don't do this to me.

Cas, please.

Once he gets slashed by something, some kind of hellbreed that seemed half werewolf, half vampire, and it's pretty bad, but somehow he manages to lose them, holed up high up in cave he'd discovered in some time ago. The view's spectacular from the ridge or would be, if the hills and valleys and forests weren't teeming with things that were out for his blood, and Cas'.

He manages the staunch the bleeding. The gash isn't too deep after all, but he's gonna have to stay put for a couple of days. But then the chills start, and he thinks, shit, shit. Starting a fire is a sure way to get killed, no way he's gonna be able to take on anything more dangerous than a field mouse right now, and fuck, he's exhausted, suddenly, and ok, this wasn't good, the ground seemed to be rushing up to meet his face—

 He's warm.

Cocooned in the softest of embraces, safe, untouchable.

"Mom?" he whispers, "Is that you?"

A hand brushes over his forehead, light and gentle.

He struggles to open his eyes, which seem to be refusing to cooperate.

It's not mom.

"Cas" he rasps, bleary eyed, throat drier than a desert. "Cas?"

"Shh" says Cas, "You're safe now. Rest, Dean."

And it's true, Dean can feel it, cradled here in—Cas' wings, he thinks, sleepily, unable to hold on to the thought. Those are Cas' wings he can feel, sheltering, soft, warm.

"You found me", he mumbles, "I've been looking for you."

"Shhh", Cas rumbles, "Don't talk. It's alright."

"Cas."

A feather light press against his mouth, and then another, and then a third.

"I'm here", Cas whispers, "Dean. Rest now."

But when he wakes up, he's alone.

If it weren't for the healed gash, skin smooth and untouched, every aching muscle restored like he'd been checked into a fancy spa for a month, he'd have been certain he dreamt it.

Then they get topside, and he wishes it had only been a dream, and not one more thing he'd have to forget.

 (Plus One)

 Sam's here, finally.

Bobby had been right, time sure passed different around here.

Sam's here now, and it's perfect.

Almost.

Cas isn't around.

Or he's everywhere, but nowhere where Dean can see him, reach out and touch him.

When he asks around, he gets vague answers.

Ellen says, oh, I think Jack and Cas are in some other planetary system this week.

Two weeks later, by Dean's counting, Rufus says, you just missed him, boy, he was here helping fix my roof not half-hour ago.

Jack says, looking embarrassed, uh, I sent him on a mission, to, um, uh, Andromeda, and then, uh, I have to go, nice seeing you again, Dean, and vanishes before Dean can whup his ass for lying to his family.

Dean gets into the Impala; tells Sam he's got a supply run to make.

"You've got like a 100 cartons of beer, Dean",  says Sam.

"Not beer, Sammy."

Sam gives him a long look.

Dean shrugs, look, it wasn't like Sam didn't know.

Sam nods, once, lips quirking a little.

"Good luck, then" he says.

Dean flips a finger at him.

"C'mon, Baby" he says, as he pulls onto the road, "Take me to him."

 Baby's never let him down.

 Of course, Cas has gone and set his feathery ass down somewhere on the highest mountain that Dean has ever seen, the top of it half hidden in a swirl of clouds. There's only a narrow trail, no way to take Baby up, so he parks her under the shade of a leafy tree of some species he's pretty sure isn't found on earth, and shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around his waist.

Jesus, but Cas could be a real dick, and it wasn't like Dean didn't already know that, but, wow.

 The trail is narrow, though not very steep, and the foliage dense for most parts, as he begins to climb. There's a river or a small waterfall somewhere, he can hear the sound of it, a muted roar. Up and up it goes, through plants and shrubs- or things that look like plants or shrubs, he can't be sure of anything here, he's realized. Occasionally, a small woodland creature of indeterminate origin will cross his path. Some of them stop and stare. One or two get experimentally close, while he stands as still as possible, and lets them acclimatize themselves to his scent. The foliage isn't dense enough to block out all sunlight, and every now and again the path will emerge onto an outcrop of rock and grass, probably intended as a rest-stop for the weary. Dean's only slightly out of breath, though the air gets cooler as he goes higher. But the sun is warm enough for a sheen of sweat to form, making his t shirt stick to his spine.

He sinks down onto a convenient grassy knoll and takes a few breaths. Clouds float lazily over the valley below, that stretches out farther than his eye can see. The river he's hearing winds through it, clear and blue, through acres and acres of green and violet, and brown and red. He turns his face up toward the sky.

Was it possible to get sunburn in Heaven?

Well, he was going to find out.

He turns his head a little.

He's about half way up the mountain, he estimates.

Given the position of the sun, he's been climbing about three hours.

Making me work for it, huh, buddy? Dick move, Cas, gotta tell you that.

Something rustles in the grass near him: a tiny grass snake, slim and green.

Snakes in paradise, wow, wasn't that theologically wrong or something?

But it gives him a beady eyed look and slithers over his outstretched palm and then away, unbothered, leaving behind a fleeting sense of dry leather.

Dean sighs.

"Cas?" he says, softly. "You're waiting for me, right?"

He doesn't know what he'll do if Cas isn't.

The thought makes his heart triphammer in his chest, fear gripping it.

What if he was too late, again?

But he's got to believe that he's right about this.

That he's here because Cas is ready, finally, to let Dean find him.

In those years after Purgatory, they'd never managed, somehow to make it work.

Every time Cas left—every time Cas came back—it got harder, somehow, to say, don't go, please, I need you, forgive me, stay.

Dean- he'd just become angrier and meaner, falling deeper and deeper and this was a grave that even Cas couldn't pull him out of. And then, when he'd been ready-almost—that second time in Purgatory, it had seemed like Cas wasn't ready, though surely, he knew, why else had he stopped Dean—

But the joke was on Dean, because Cas hadn't known, and then it had been too late. Cas was slipping through his fingers one more time, beatific in his joy, as he threw himself into the pit for Dean, and Dean had known, had known, that it was the last time.

 When it was all over, he had waited.

Hope was a thing with feathers.

He had waited for Jack to bring Cas back to them, to Dean.

But Jack hadn't.

No way that Jack hadn't sprung Cas from the Empty, there was just no fucking way that would have happened, so that meant that Cas didn't want to see Dean.

And alright, maybe Dean deserved that, maybe that was his penance, and he would do it, gladly.

He wouldn't complain, and he'd go through the rest of his life with a piece of him missing, and it was what it was, there were things you couldn't undo, there were sorrows that had to be borne.

On the bad days, after a hunt that went wrong- there were, after all, still some of those—he'd lie  in bed, every tendon and muscle and bone aching, and when he closed his eyes, he'd try to will himself back there, to that cave in Purgatory, the safety and comfort of Cas' shelter, and the sweet press of his lips against Dean's.

Sweeter than all the honey in the world.

 He blinks awake.

Apparently he'd taken a nap, though given that the sun was still steadily beating down on his face—and yes, you could get sunburn in heaven, thanks for nothing Jack—it hadn't been too long.

It takes another two hours, and he's almost giving up hope, wondering whether he's going to end up just spending the night alone on this mountain after all, when he breaks through a particularly dense grove and finds himself in a middle of a garden.

The garden- in flagrant, dizzying bloom around a cobbled stone path that leads to a small wooden cabin nestled against the wall of the mountain- has an occupant.

Dean feels like his breath was punched out of him.

My true form is as tall as the Chrysler building, Cas had once said, the lying liar that he was, because he's probably twice as tall. He's all iridescent wings that span twenty feet either side, and a dozen wheels spinning in different directions and something that looks like blue flames trailing the edges of his wings, and Dean is—

Jesus.

Cas turns toward him at that, and Dean senses his-shock?- before the almost unbearable brightness dims slowly, coalescing into a familiar shape.

"Not quite", says Cas. "Hello, Dean."

Dean's feet seem locked to the ground, and Cas doesn't make a move toward him either.

"Hi", Dean breathes out, the air rushing out of his lungs with the word. "Cas."

Cas has switched out the trenchcoat and suit for comfortable looking pair of white linen pants and a loose short tunic of sky blue, that match his eyes, and there's what looks like a week's worth of stubble along his jaw.

"Heaven can't afford a razor?" is what Dean says next, like the idiot he is.

Cas' eyes crinkle. "I've been told it makes me more attractive".

What, who- no- fuck.

Dean's already up in Cas' space before he realizes it.

"Who told you that?" he rasps, and up close he can see the flecks of grey in the stubble, and at Cas' temples, and yes, it made him breathtakingly hot, but damned if Dean was going to— "They were lying, just so you know."

Cas is smiling at him.

"Dean," he says, softly.

Dean reaches out to run a finger against his jaw, going against the grain, ends up with his fingers resting lightly against Cas' cheek, just under his ear.

"You’re a dick" he says, softly, "you know that?"

Cas nods.

"I've been" starts Dean, and then finds he's out of words, takes a shuddery breath instead, furiously trying to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

Cas's hands cup his face, warm and sure, and he draws Dean's forehead down to his.

"I know", Cas says, softly. "But I would do it again if it meant I saved you. I would do it all again."

"I should have told you," whispers Dean, "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough."

"Dean", says Cas, softly, "You've always been enough."

Above them the sky starts turning a fiery orange as the first of the suns starts to set.

Cas' wings- which he hasn't tucked away- take on a metallic shine, but they feel warm, and safe, just like Dean remembers.

Dean kisses him, softly, once, then again, then again.

"Sweeter than all the honey in the world", he whispers, glad that there's nobody to hear this but Cas.

"You don't even like honey", says Cas, after a moment. "You never let Sam put any in your tea."

Dean draws back.

"You don’t remember", he accuses, genuinely horrified.

Cas' brows draw together in a frown.

"What?"

"You kissed me! And said—well you said what you said! Back in the day when you were all crazy!"

"Which time?"

Dean groans, thumping his head onto Cas' shoulder.

Cas buries his nose in Dean's hair and tucks him closer in his embrace.

"I remember" he confesses, quietly, after a moment. "But I thought you'd want to forget it."

"Cas", Dean, sighing, as he turns to nuzzle the soft, tender skin beneath Cas' ear, placing a small kiss there, as he presses closer. "Let's never talk about this again, ok?"

#spn #supernatural #destiel #dean x cas #gosh i hope this one makes you feel a bit better #<3 <3 <3

[highgaarden]

Klaroline Time Travel, please for the inbox game.

send me an au and i’ll write five headcanons about it.

i got this prompt a few days ago and thought - hey, it sort of fits in with one of the prompts in @klaroline-events’ june bingo: curse.

two birds, one stone? is that allowed? anyway, if it’s not allowed it’s okay, i had fun writing this all the same! another one for my drunk writing: a series tag, which as usual was written in one sitting whilst i giggle throughout.

sweetness that i took for, sweetness that she gave me to me;

though my heart has long been given to you summer's turn is nigh swifts and swallows swoop and yearn for you with all that's in the sky but blow the wind and come the rain and come my love again

i. 

she’s on the ground when she comes to. her head’s a mess and her back hurts, and she licks the inside of her dry mouth, suddenly wishing for blood to coat her parched tongue. 

the last thing she remembers is freya, davina, her own twins and bonnie standing in formation around hope; some kind of spell to slow down her age or something. she’s in her twenties and every day klaus grows more and more volatile about it, so it was deduced that something had to be done.

in that salt circle hope didn’t look too happy about it. last night there had been a huge argument between father and daughter - everyone had stayed well enough away, even hayley, who shrugs at her as if to apologize this was how their girls' summer break from the salvatore school was going.

“minutes ut horis et diebus et hebdomades,” bonnie and freya chant. 

hope groans.

 “quantum pugillus capere potest,” lizzie and josie continue, fingers clasped together, their eyes turning white. 

hope snorts.

“ex harenae spatia veluti clepsydris metiuntur,” davina bellows as wind starts whipping the air around them. 

hope rolls her eyes.

“tempus extendit!” they chorus together.

the witches chant and hope checks her wristwatch, and then a storm rolls in, breaking everything. the twins are flung to different ends of the room; freya loses her footing and has to dig her nails into the floor to avoid being dragged out the window that's burst open; bonnie bleeds through her nose and drops to her knees; davina flings herself over hope when the little baby tribrid starts to convulse--when it hits her, when it really hits her, that something has gone terribly wrong--

she's on her back. in a cemetery, her throat is bleeding and tyler - tyler? - is shouting down at her, but she can't hear anything he's saying.

she raises her hand. around her wrist, a charm bracelet glints, and her vision blurs: "no," she gasps, death taking over. she hasn't worn that bracelet since her eighteenth birthday.

ii.

klaus sits on the edge of her bed, his gaze swallowing her. she hears a crooning in her ears that she attributes to the werewolve venom taking space in her veins, smoking out the seams of her. she is burning up; this isn't real - how is this real? this isn't happening - she must be hallucinating, she was a woman in the abbatoir watching as a spell self-destructed, and now - 

she was a girl again, and she was dying.

"what's going on?" she whispers, frustrated even as gravity as she knew it malfunctioned around her, making her weightless yet heavy to the bone all at once. "this doesn't make any freaking sense."

"me persuading you, trying to save your life?" klaus cocks his head to the side. it's funny - he is so hard and unreadable here, so many years ago. he wore his rosaries and beads like they meant to be anything more than an accessory peaking just underneath his collar - he wore them like they armour; a badge of honour, hard worn after a bloody, grisly fight. and yet looked and smelled clean. so clean it cut through the putrid leaking out of her neck. "you do think so low of me, then."

"didn't i just say that?" she coughs, splattering her blanket with a fine red mist. this wasn't how it had gone the first time around. he was sitting there, staring at her, those same old hungry eyes she remembers even years later like a broken dream. she can't help herself. she stares him down, much like the first time, but then - her mouth parts, she licks her dry, parched lips, and says, "i've seen so many things."

klaus, ancient monster klaus who barely knew anything more about her than her name, klaus, the being just short of an omniscient deity,old as blood and weathered as a mountain - he doesn't laugh. he nods, once, hearing and listening. he says, "i don't doubt that, sweetheart."

she almost smiles. she's oddly satisfied. "maybe i am ready to die."

"then you're lucky," klaus says, "not many are."

"because you don't give them the chance," she says, coughing again. man, werewolf bites sucked. this memory got it down so perfectly, she would curse the witches' powers if she weren't so impressed.

"who says i don't?" 

she watches him with interest. "i thought you maimed first, ask questions never?"

"maim isn't kill." klaus grins. "maim is slow, painful, yes, but it gives them just long enough to plead their guilt, swear fealty to me, no? my maiming is my mercy."

"you write poetry or something?"

klaus laughs quietly. "i did some editing work for shakespeare, for a fashion. can't say i've ever written anything, no. my talents lie elsewhere."

she thinks about the wisp of his dress shoes against the hem hre ballgown. klaus leading her into a room with wide, arched ceilings. one of my passions, he said.

"i know," she says, quietly, with so much rueful affirmation in her voice that klaus reels back suddenly. as if realising he was sitting with someone who was far more familiar with him than current logic would suggest.

it felt like strange company to be having on her death bed. he had talked her out of dying last time. would he, again, in this memory?

was this a memory?

she thinks about how powerful the witches were in their own right. she thinks about their combined power. she thinks about how her blanket scratches heavily against her drenched, hyper-sensitive skin. 

she's not sure this is just memory.

and - and if it weren't just a memory, and the spell they'd tried casting had tried to temper with time, and she was here, in the PAST, was she - oh god - was this - ?

"klaus," she gasps, clutching at his hands. klaus' eyes widen.

"i don't know who you think you are, girl," klaus begins in a snarl, but everything flashes bright and hot - 

iii.

"and how am i doing?"

he knows his lines by now. he had been confused, enraged, elated all at once when he'd first landed slap dab in the middle of a patch in time he'd already lived through, but he's seen things in his thousand-and-something years, so he wasn't all that surprised. he'd tried to switch things up at first, say things he'd held back all those years ago, and watches caroline's face change.

it was fascinating, seeing things all over again. it offered him perspective. arguing with caroline but being able to detach himself from the moment and study all the ways that make her tick. knowing her for so many years now, he knew when she was bluffing. it was the way she would refuse to meet his eyes. back then, she never met his eyes.

stubborn little woman.

she turns. her gaze was sharper than the chill of the uncharacteristically cool spring afternoon. and then all at once she softens, and the bloom around her inexplicably gain more colour. the rest of the pageant dulled around her as she grew larger than life. "you look... perfect."

he'd never realised that little breath she had let out - like he had met her expectations yet again. exceeded them, in fact. she held herself carefully  around him, like she was made of thousands of little strings which would at any point unravel, leaving her bare for him.

odd, because he could only ever remember her being determined not to relinquish any control over to him. it had never occurred to him that her grip over it wasn't as unwavering as he'd thought.

iv.

caroline speeds through these scenarios she didn't have a name for, now that she had determined their level of harm - they appeared to only be swaths of time, ripped to shreds, trying to come back together. she wondered about the reality of bonnie, freya, her girls and davina's ministrations.

what had they done to Time?

she couldn't call it memories, these moments she steps into. maybe time was reconstructing. her meetings with klaus weren't in any chronological order. at some point they were in her office, two years ago, him pleading with her to help him save his daughter. experiencing it the first time around hadn't been easy. the second - she could watch him with new eyes and notice all the other, smaller ways he seemed to be falling apart. the things she'd never noticed. 

like the way he could stare at her, and oh how he stared. the way he would level his eyes to hers when it looked like she was ready to break eye contact; he would catch her gaze and hold, pulling her back, tethering her to him, unrelenting.

he's looking at her right now as he shows her his paintings. it's the night of the mikaelson ball all over again, and she is in her gifted dress and klaus is in his relish of the moment. how she had come to him after letting him dress her. now that she's older she knows now, what it must have meant to him. this small claiming, the first of many.

but there is none of the heat in his gaze, because he's not that klaus yet. he's not in love with her, yet. he's not looking at her as if he'd like nothing else than to just press the very tips of the hair that brushed his forehead to hers, just hold her there, and not think for a while.

yet.

she knows how this will go. did klaus know, then?

"you make it sound like it was the easiest decision in the world," she finds herself saying, "choosing me."

klaus looks surprised. she'd interrupted him mid-rant about some kind of debate, michaelangelo vs donatello or whatever. "was i not making myself clear enough when i said i fancy you?"

"liking - despite yourself - that's not choosing." she gives the half-done sketches in her hands a quick glance before putting them back where she'd found them. "we both know i'm not just your fancy of the week."

klaus' face clouds over. "and here i thought courting you would be easy." it sounds like a joke, but it's not. she can hear it in the sudden shift in his voice, how it becomes just that much silkier.

"you didn't really think that," she says knowingly, playing into his charade. enjoying the danger. some things never really change, she wants to laugh.

a small smirk breaks through the hard set of his mouth. "no, i really didn't. you're too smart to be seduced by me."

caroline blinks. her own words, in his mouth, shouldn't startle her so much. how well he knew her, even having just met her. "that's why you like me," she says. only just loud enough for him to catch it.

he doesn't say anything. just lifts her gloved knuckles to his lips and kissed her there.

v.

she makes an excuse to leave. klaus is unwilling to let her go so easily but he's playing at being a gentlemen, because back then he'd thought she'd received him better. it was kind of adorable in a way, if it didn't vex her so much.

what was happening? where the hell was she? why was she stuck in a weird loop of all her interactions with klaus? was hope okay? when was she getting out of here?

she walks on, the trail of her dress getting dirty and muddled in the damp earth. she could smell in the air that it was going to rain, and yet she walks and walks and walks through the lawn of the mikaelson estate until she reaches the edge, and the air around her wrinkles and gleams, as if trying to force a doorway through.

she... takes a step forward. and another. she goes easily through the barrier - she almost wonders if she'd imagined it.

she's still in the mikaelson estate.

so she keeps walking - until she sees a familiar figure ahead. 

it's klaus.

she gulps. had he come look for her after all, shucking the gentleman and bowing to the monster?

she keeps walking. until she's close enough to see that he's looking a little more dishevelled than he did at the ball. his bowtie was lose around his neck. he'd lost his jacket, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. 

he looks at her. the way he's always looked at her.

she breathes in. "you're here too," she says on the exhale.

"enjoy the ball?" he asks, in lieu of a confirmation. he eyes her in the dress. "i almost forgot how lovely you looked, that night. i never knew if you kept the dress."

"i did," caroline laughs, shakily. "deep in the back of my closet, hidden from prying eyes - but not well hidden enough."

a corner of klaus' lips quirk. "tell me."

"my girls found it," caroline shrugs. "and hope wore it to her miss mystic falls pageant."

"did she win?" he asks, hungry for this bit of information about his daughter in the years he was dead, lost to time. 

"of course she did," caroline half-smiles. "she was in the care of lizzie's craftful hands. i raised my daughters in my image. not all - just the good bits."

"i love all your bits," klaus says. he smiles at her, softly, cataloguing how she looks now, in the dress he'd given her years and years ago. "you loved me for far longer than i'd thought, caroline."

caroline, to her credit, doesn't blush. no, she's too much a woman now. denial had lead her nowhere for so many years. "gonna gloat about it now?"

"nah," klaus says, putting his hands in his pockets as they fell into step, into the cold night. 

the grass, almost frozen in the morning dew to come, crunch under their feet. they walk until they reach his lake, because of course the mikaelson estate would have a lake. klaus pulls his hands out of his pockets and offers her his arm, which she takes, and leads her to the bench that overlooks the reflection of the night sky on still, dark waters.

"i wish you'd taken me here instead, that night," caroline says, still in that casual offhand voice she'd adopted since meeting him. "way more romantic."

"i thought you would've been averse to romantic, so soon after we'd met." klaus shrugs. "also, the full force of my courtship would have had you on your knees, caroline. a man has to start slow."

"i thought you would've liked me on my knees," she says impishly, and he nearly falls off the bench.

god, klaus had died and come back to life so many times a creature that just refused to go quietly - and yet with her he's this fumbling bashful boy. she nudged him with his knee, through the many delicate layers of her dress. "how was your trip down memory lane?"

"enlightening," he says mysteriously. she doesn't bother to hide her grin.

"so was mine," she says. "all those times you must have wanted to rip my head off. i was a daring idiot."

"not an idiot," klaus argues. "sure, you could have held your tongue at any point - but you were certainly daring. you bore the brunt of my affections for you like armour. any lesser woman would have crumpled."

she doesn't meet his gaze, but he catches her chin before she can look away. "no, love. none of that, please. we've come so far."

he's pleased when she bites her bottom lip, understanding. he never had to explain herself with her. she was always perceptive, always listening, always deciphering. his clever caroline.

"so has hope," caroline says, and klaus groans quietly. "she's the brightest kid at the school, klaus. she knows her power and knows her limits. she can benchpress the boys under the table," she laughs in recollection, and he can't help but join in, "and you can't do anything about her growing, klaus."

klaus sighs. long and wrought out, and in pain. "i have missed so many of her years."

"what are you going to do, stall her even more? let her miss out on the beauty of aging, with lizzie and josie?" caroline catches his eye. "they've become family, our girls. we are family now - let them grow and know loss."

he's a bit dumbfounded by the wisdom she's displaying but has time to clear his throat and say, rather gruffly like when he's trying to mask awkwardness, "we're not a family. not really. you have alaric, and..."

"and alaric is my business partner, the father to the girls," she says sternly. "alaric is not... you."

it's weird, his gaze has been on hers all along, but it's like he's refocusing, seeing her for the first time. "what are you saying?"

"i'm saying that i didn't just come to new orleans because the girls wanted to spend summer break there." she licks her lips nervously. "i'm saying i came for me, too. it was a really nice holiday, klaus."

"before i bungled everything up, i expect," klaus mutters. caroline laughs a bit. the air around them had slowly warmed as their conversation lengthened, and was sizzling now, lighting up klaus' face in sparks of white and gold. "time to go back, sweetheart."

"you should work on your apology to her," caroline says, taking his arm again, and follows him as he stands and steps right into the middle of their ritual earlier.

lizzie and josie were there, and hope was in the middle of the twins sandwich - freya and bonnie were consulting a grimoire and davina was drawing chalk on the floor. they all looked up and stared at them, jaws dropping.

"looking good, dad," hope says, impressed, then her eyes land on caroline in the dress. "oh my gosh - it looks like it was made for you."

"um, it was hers?" lizzie says, snorting. "can't believe you're on honour roll."

"lizzie," josie chides. she tilts her head at klaus and her mother, looking them up and down, the way her mother’s hand was wrapped loosely in the crook of klaus’ arm, where only hours ago they had determinedly not touched this entire break. "so, weird trip?"

"you could say that," caroline says airily as the air re-seals behind them. "think something like a charles dickens novel."

"cool," hope nods. she looks at her father expectantly. "what have we learned about messing with time, dad?"

"to not do it," klaus concedes grumpily. "now off you go before i lose my mind over that gray hair growing down your temple."

"i do not have grey hair!" hope gasps, affronted, and storms the room, the twins giggling in tow.

"bet you wouldn't mind some slow-aging spells for THAT!" klaus calls after her laughingly, and she must have heard, tribrid senses and all, and mutters something about him might being right.

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #drunk writing: a series #hannah writes things

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

h

She chose not to dwell on it.

h

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

 We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in. 

[...] 

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are. 

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

with my son

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

I

AM

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke. 

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.” 

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

[zashamalkin]

hope you don't mind sharing venting a bit about the Pens / Geno. i too have been frustrated about the Pens season so far, it sucks that we're in a bit of a rough spot now and the four teams above us are doing so well early in the season. meanwhile we just look like a mess. it's understandable because we had no training camp this year but with the condensed sched and the standings so tight every W counts. I love Geno and Tanger, no doubt, but their play has been headscratching so far. (1)

Besides the 1st and 3rd lines there's little to no chemistry. Sully i'm sure is on the hot seat ever since that putrid play-in series. Our next stretch vs the Caps and NYI is terrifying and this could make or break our season so I sincerely hope the Pens will sort their shit out. Tbh I could be in the minority here but this season has been gut punching for me if my fave team hasn't made it painful to watch yet. It feels unusual to see so many players on early scoring sprees (2)

with likely 1/4 of the league on pace to hit 40+ pts on a shortened season (if they keep up) while Sid, G, Jake, etc are off to slow starts. Yeah it stinks our guys aren't scoring on a torrid pace like so many players this yr but I just try to stay positive that things will go upward soon and they will soon get their scoring touches back at the perfect time. Plus the season is a marathon so players / teams can flip the switch quickly. (3)

I dunno, we’ve seen some fantastic sparks of chemistry on G’s line. And if you look at his game play, he’s really been kicking into high gear. He’s making a lot of good plays but nothing seems to be gelling for the team. Here’s the thing though, while I realize this season’s games carry more weight than a normal season, this happens every. single. season.  By then end of October people are freaking out saying we won’t make playoffs. 

This season isn’t a long but we still have a long way to go. I have to keep hoping and believing that they’ll get there. 

That said, I think it’s long past time for a coaching change so that is one aspect that worries me. 

#Anonymous