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souliebird · 4 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 12||

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Words: 5k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.

The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.

There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.

He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.

Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.

Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.

He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.

He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.

Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.

Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.

But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.

He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.

Not that Karen can't take care of herself.

If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.

Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.

Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.

He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.

Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.

He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.

It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.

It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.

Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.

Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?

Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?

Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.

He'll tell her after he tells you about her.

It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.

Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.

If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.

Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.

As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.

Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.

You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.

But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.

His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.

“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”

Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.

He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.

“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.

To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”

The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.

She wants him to be her Daddy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.

“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.

“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”

You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.

She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.

“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”

The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.

But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.

He curls his lip into a snarl.

He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.

It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”

“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.

“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”

She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.

“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”

The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.

He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.

“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”

Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”

The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”

“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.

Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?

Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.

Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.

He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.

“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.

He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.

“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.

“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.

“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.

“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”

Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”

Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.

“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?

He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.

Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.

Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.

Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.

He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”

He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.

He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”

His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.

“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.

“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.

“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.

“Very, very far away.”

He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.

He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.

She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.

You've taught her well.

Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.

He knows he's gone for you.

Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.

His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.

Foggy laughed so hard at him.

He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.

He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.

He should have been there when you needed him most.

He's not going to fuck that up again.

He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.

“Hi, Mouse.”

“Why are you outside?”

He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.

They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.

So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.

“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”

Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”

He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.

He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”

She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.

“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)

He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.

“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.

“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.

“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”

And he will tell her every chance he gets.

She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.

She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.

“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.

“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.

“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.

He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.

Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.

“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.

He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.

He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.

Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.

He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.

He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”

The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.

He's going to cherish this moment forever.

“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.

“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.

Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.

He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.

Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you

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ficthots · 7 months

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Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?”

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

#ficthots #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrewgarfield!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction

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zialltops · 7 months

Text

East Side Of Sorrow

Word count: 55,306

Chapters: 12/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Brief Underage, Graphic Descriptions Of Violence

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Older Man/Younger Woman, Joel is 50, Reader is 17-18, No sex until 18 trope, Murder Mystery, Murder Kink, Slightly Dark Joel, Cunnilings, Thigh Fucking, Voyeurism, Asphyxiation, Joel “The King Of Dirty Talk” Miller, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Description: It started at one of two points when you were sixteen, but for the life of you, you cant recall which came first. All you know, is a defining moment led you to the stark realization that you didn’t like the boys you sat beside in math class, weren’t interested in the seniors on the football field under Friday night lights—you didn’t want to dance with a boy at your high school prom, or have your first kiss under the bleachers.

You wanted a man.

It started at one of two points when you were sixteen, but for the life of you, you cant recall which came first. All you know, is a defining moment led you to the stark realization that you didn’t like the boys you sat beside in math class, weren’t interested in the seniors on the football field under Friday night lights—you didn’t want to dance with a boy at your high school prom, or have your first kiss under the bleachers.

You liked men.

Rugged, blue collar with a lifetime of rough working hands and tanned skin. More times than you could count, you found yourself pinning after men that must have been three times your age, probably with children your age, greying at the edges and crows feet from years spent in the sun.

It wasn’t always like that for you, you remember liking age appropriate boys who had just about as much life experience as you—but it was like one day you woke up and decided, you know what? Fuck a young colt, I want a stud.

But pinpointing the exact moment your life shifted in the worst possible direction—was still a bit hazy for you.

The first possibility seemed like the more reasonable of the two. It was early June when school let out for the summer after your sophomore year. Boys was just about the only thing on your one track mind-aside from figuring out how to squirm your way out of the awkwardness of puberty, ache, and anxiety keeping you from all the things you longed to do.

You wanted to be touched but you had to be wanted for that to happen. You wanted to be worshipped, but you needed stained glass windows and rows of red velvet pews to make someone want to kneel at your alter, when all you had was falling shingles, chipped paint and broken glass.

So on it went, you—trying your damnedest to be what boys wanted, falling short each time. So, of course—when your best friend Lilah invited you to to a trip to the lake with a group of boys from school, you went. When Lilah said she was feeling sick and couldn’t go, you went. When you didn’t have a ride, so a boy from the group offered to give you one, you went.

Even when the inexperienced and anxious parts of you told you to run, you still went.

There was a moment in between the awkward ride to the lake, trying desperately to keep your breast from falling right out of your top as the old truck takes the the bumpy road through the woods outside your town, where you first felt like you’d made a mistake. Your bikini is from two summers ago, before your cleavage really came in, but you felt hot when you’d looked at yourself in the mirror this morning. You thought you could handle being half naked in a lake surrounded by boys a whole grade above you—but—

Standing at the waters edge while they cat call for you to jump in, you feel as though the only thing that has jumped is your stomach into your throat. You want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide at the open way they all stare at you-you hardly even know them. The boy who picked you up is Lilahs neighbor, one is in your english class and the others you have seen around but not enough to say you know any of them.

They don’t know you, they don’t have any obligation to upholding your virtue, nor do they care about the way their small tasteless comments make you feel vulnerable and surrounded by them with no place to run or hide. Theres a small moment in there, where you feel wanted for a second, years of yearning and longing trying to find the one good thing to cling to in this moment.

It doesn’t last long—the boy’s comments get cruder, the sun gets closer to the horizon and you get more panicked. When one of the boys grabs your ass on your way out of the water, you nearly slip on your sandals and run. In retrospect, that should have been your first clue.

Reason #1: Boys didn’t want to protect you—they wanted to take advantage, get what they wanted from you even if you protested. Boys didn’t care if you looked scared or were shaking out of your skin—boys wanted to hurt you.

“I think I want to go home,” you say from the shoreline, shifting back and forth on your bare feet with a towel wrapped around your shoulders, hugged tightly to hide your exposed body. You shouldn’t have come here, what the hell were you thinking?

“Go home? When the party is just getting started?” The boy who drove you is reaching into a ice chest, sneering at you as he pulls out a bottle of brown liquid. It’s halfway gone, telling you that they have probably already been taking tugs off it all afternoon.

You suddenly feel like prey, in a open field surrounded with predators and nowhere to run. The others are coming out of the water to join you at the shore, but the way they move together as a group makes you feel sick to your stomach, they all have the same motive in mind.

You scan the shoreline, looking for a way out, maybe if you run, they wont try to follow, but that doesn’t seem very smart either. You don’t even have your sandals on and your nearly naked, no thanks to yourself. You make out a lone figure a long ways down the shoreline, so far in-fact you cant even make out if its a man or a woman. Definitely too far to help you, even if you had the right mind to yell for help.

“Look at her, boys.” One of them says—the largest of them all, he’s on the football team. “Shes shaking.” He walks right up to you wrapped in your damp towel and presses his hand to your cheek. You flinch away, but he grabs the back of your head with a searing palm. “Where d’you think your going?”

The boys chuckles and thats when you know—you should have never got in the old beat up pick-up truck, you should have listened to your intuition. “Let go of me,” you tell him, trying with little success to squirm away from him. “I don’t think so, princess. You’ve been walking around teasing us for hours—think its about time we get what we came for.”

You really try now, to get away from him but the hand on the back of your head drops to your neck and holds you there like a disobedient dog and your towel drops to the rocks. “Let go!” You try to sound threatening, but your voice breaks when the boy bears down on your neck. He reaches up and grabs your top by the center, yanking it roughly until the ties snap and it crumbles in his hands, leaving you bare—exposed for the first time in front of anyone but your girlfriends.

You reach to cover yourself, but the boy flips you around and wraps his arm around your neck, holding you with a brutal grip. If he flexes, he could asphyxiate you. The others are grinning, egging him on to do more. “Let go of me!” You scream now, trashing your legs when another boy comes up in front of you, Lilahs neighbor. He’d seemed so harmless hours ago, but now he was reaching for your flailing legs until he catches your ankles in his grip, holding them at either sides of his hips.

“Shes feisty, I call first dibs.” The one behind you says, squeezing his arm a little tighter around your throat as you thrash. “Stop!” You shout again. “Please! Please let me go!”

They don’t—they start to move but the boy drops your ankles, so the larger one attempts to drag you. You know this is it for you—if you make it out of this, you wont really be able to say you lived, but a smaller, terrified part of you hopes they sink your body into the lake.

At least then, your mom wont have to look at you with disappointment in her eyes when they find you battered and bruised and broken.

“Please! Dont do this!”

The boy starts to laugh, but the chuckle is cut off by the loudest sound you think you’ve ever heard, a brutal pop ringing through the air.

The arm around your neck releases and you fall to the ground, taking a view cuts from the rocky wet shoreline.

“She said stop.” A gruff voice fills the ringing parts of your ears. You try to scramble up, barley half a mind to cover yourself as you try to crawl away from the group.

Thats when you see him, dressed in a green plaid shirt and work boots with a double barrel shotgun in his hands like your own personal knight in flannel armor.

“Woah man, you cant just run up on people with a gun—“ he points it right at the boy who’s speaking, the one who had grabbed your legs. “She asked you to stop. Im not asking.”

He slides the fore-stock forward and the gun makes a ominous sound as he re-chambers another round. “Get in your vehicle and go.” He doesn’t sound like the type to give second chances, and his face is contorted in a controlled rage, baring his teeth with his finger on the trigger.

The boys don’t push him again as they run to their trucks and pull away from the shoreline, leaving you naked, stranded with no hope of getting out of these woods on your own before dark.

The man lowers his gun and starts to unbutton his shirt and your heart nearly leaps into your mouth again, but the feeling trembles out of you when he leans down and wraps it around your shoulders to cover you up. He’s left in a grey t-shirt that hugs his large shoulders.

“You alright, darlin’?” He soothes one of his hands down your arm once he has you covered. When you look up at him, the trees shift away, the rocks under your ass disappear with the sting from the marks they’d left. Your heart must slow to accompany all of the blood suddenly rushing to your cheeks when you meet his warm eyes. “I-I’m alright, thank you.” He offers a hand to help you up, which you gladly take, allowing him to pull you to your feet gently.

“Whats your name?” You shift and button the shirt over your chest, attempting to hide the embarrassment of him seeing you bare. You tell him your name as you find your sandals and slip them on.

“Im joel…lets—lets get you home, alright?”

Reason #2: Joel was not a boy. He was a fucking man with a greying beard and crinkles by his kind eyes. Joel wouldn’t have ripped your top off with unforgiving fingers, he gave you the shirt off his back. Boys wanted to hurt you, but this man saved you.

To say which incident was the driving force leading you to this realization about yourself, you cant be sure. What you do know, is from that day on, the space in your mind once occupied by boys your age was suddenly bleed dry and replaced by aged hands, frown lines, grey hair and kind eyes.

“Do your parents know where you are? Can you call them?” He asks as he walks with along the trailhead with you a few steps behind him, clutching his shirt like its a life preserver—you’re a castaway drowning in the storm.

“My mom is away on work and my dad went to go get milk about…nine years ago?” You stumble a little in your cheap sandals, trying your best to have a light outlook on this situation—you got away almost unscathed, that and Joel had a nice ass to look at.

“Jesus—sorry, kid. Uhm, My house is half a mile up ahead, I was just down here fishing. S’pose I can drive you home if your willing to walk?”

He’s looking over his shoulder at you as he walks, so you pause where you stand on the rocks. “Im okay to walk.” You cross your arms over your chest and look down at your feet, afraid to talk to him, afraid you’ll say the wrong thing and he’ll change his mind about helping you. “Thank you again, I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t—“ he clears his throat and turns away from you quickly, starting back up the trail. You stare at his back as he walks silently for a few more feet before glancing back to make sure your still with him. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Its just about all you get out of him the entire walk back to his small cabin nestled in the woods. He keeps to his word and doesn’t let you inside, instead he leads you to a old jeep parked out front. He opens the door, wordless in his motions like he has been for the last twenty minutes. You should be reeling from the encounter with your classmates, but the only thing going on in your mind is trying to figure out how to get this man to talk to you.

“Do you live alone out here?” You quirk an eyebrow at him from under your wet hair and he lets out a slow breath, looking down at his mud covered boots. “Yeah—just me out here.” He says it mater of factly, like he knows you must be getting at something.

The forest is quiet, a few birds in the distance and afternoon sun shining through the tree tops. He places a hand on his hip as he leans against the door of the red wrangler. You twist the ball of your foot aimlessly in the dirt and swallow the lump in your throat. “Must get lonely, by yourself all the time.”

He shifts abruptly and starts to head towards the house. “Get in, I’ll just be a moment.” You don’t get a good look at his face, nor can you tell if you’ve said it wrong, you didn’t mean—right now, but you just thought—you should put your interest out there, right? If you are going to stand any chance of not looking like a childish fool when you feel like your on a free fall towards something dangerous.

You watch him walk up the steps onto his porch, listen to the way the door slams behind him while he steps inside. But, he’d told you to get in the Jeep and you owe this man your life. The least you can do it listen when he tells you to do something.

You haven’t had many encounters like this with real adults—ones that didn’t know you, or your mother, or need to judge you based on any of that. None of them had no predetermined idea of what you were—your mothers obedient shadow who did what she was told and kept her mouth shut. Joel didn’t know you, he didn’t know how old you were or who your mother was or how small and hopeless you felt in his bucket seat. You wanted to feel brave—capable of making a man tremble. You wanted to feel like a woman after those boys made you feel so minuscule and worthless.

But the longer Joel takes inside, the more time you have to pick apart your sudden desperate obsession with a man you’ve just met. He’s just a nice guy—trying to make sure you get home safe after he’d witnessed something horrible happen to you. You—a young girl naked under his shirt sitting in his passenger seat.

The door opens and you startle as he gets in. He doesn’t say anything, so neither do you. He doesn’t say anything while he drives down the dirt road towards town, so you twiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

“How old are you?” The question catches you off guard as you hit the main road leading back to town. You look over at him, but he’s still staring at the road with an unreadable expression that almost looks like irritation. “I uhm—I’m sixteen, almost seventeen.”

He huffs what sounds like a laugh, but he’s shaking his head as he rests his elbow on the window sill and leans against it. “Your mother knows your out here with a group of boys who look like they should be in college?” He sounds disappointed in a way you’ve never experienced from a male figure—he sounds like a concerned parent.

“She knows I was going to the lake and they are seniors. Why’s that your business anyways?” You cross your legs and hug your arms tighter to your body. He’s making you feel like your in trouble for something. He chuckles this time, looking over at you quickly before diverting his eyes back to the road. “Thought it might be, seein’ as you were propositioning me on my doorstep not five minutes ago but your somebody’s child.” You cut him off with an abrupt squawk, which you would deny if anyone’s asked you about it.

“I wasn’t propositioning-Im not—“ you look out the window at the trees going by your side of the Jeep. “Not a child? Darlin’, your sixteen years old. This world is…far from a kind place. A nice little thing like you wouldn’t last a day on the wrong side of it.” His words echo through your empty mind, filling you with embarrassment and shame.

You wear red cheeks the rest of the way into town. You point your way towards your house, but before you step out of the Jeep, you take one good look at the kind man who’d saved your life today, even if you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him.

“I think you’re wrong.” He cocks a stern eyebrow at your words. “I am?” He counters, shifting minutely in his seat. You nod your head and open the door. “The world is a kind place or you wouldn’t have helped me today.”

He huffs and looks out the windshield again.

“Silly little lamb…don’t know a wolf when its standing right in front of you.”

You don’t reply, not sure how your supposed to. You close the door behind you and start to head up the walkway to your front door when the window rolls down and the man leans over the center console. “Stay out of trouble, little girl.”

The first thing you do, in fact, is get yourself into trouble.

Not the—trapped with young boys who want to hurt you trouble, the your mother is going to ground you kind of trouble.

“Run this by me one more time so I understand. You got lost by the lake and you met—“ you shift the phone against your shoulder as you make yourself a bowl of cereal (for dinner, of course). “I didn’t meet him, he found me and helped me. Im alright mom, Joel—“

Fuck up, number one.

“Joel? Joel Miller?” Her tone is suddenly sharper and coated in worry. “I don’t know his last name. He lives in a cabin near the lake and he has a red wrangler.” You tell her as you pour milk into your sad little bowl.

“Honey, listen to me…if you see that man again, you turn and go the other way, okay?”

You blink and set down your spoon, confused by your mothers words. Why would you need to avoid Joel? Aside from the fact that he’s a older man with deliciously grey hair and sad eyes that you desperately want to watch roll in the back of his head. “He’s dangerous, I cant even believe you were in a vehicle with—he didn’t say anything…inappropriate did he? Did he make you uncomfortable?”

You wince at yourself and are grateful you aren’t having this conversation with her face to face. “He was very nice, mom, he never made me feel uncomfortable.” Truth be told, you’d made his leg bounce and his fingers rasp against the steering wheel after you’d definitely propositioned him on his doorstep.

“Just—lock the house up good, promise me you’ll stay away from that part of town until I get back, alright? I’ll only be a few more days.”

She should know her troublesome daughter better than that.

You return to Joels the next day with a plate of cookies and his plaid shirt you reluctantly let go of this morning after sleeping curled up in its woodsy scent.

You blush prettily at him and he chases you off his doorstep all over again.

Chapter 2 Here 🖤

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel fanfic #joel miller spicy fanfic #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #archive of our own

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zanniscaramouche · 3 months

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Zanni WIPs of 2024

See what I'm working on under the cut ♡

Star Trek

❄️️ Fathom - Star Trek AOS - Jim Kirk/Spock + Jim Kirk/Bones

Jim raises his head and tries to stay on track of the conversation. “Always?” And what he means is, ‘In every reality?’ Spock inclines his head in a subdued nod. “All that is, is yours.” Est. 30k

❄️️ Wonderful Boy - Star Trek AOS - Jim Kirk/Spock + Jim Kirk/Bones

Jim wakes up in the new version of reality and he’s trying to find his place. Meanwhile, his relationships with Bones and Spock are strained as he works to reconcile the shift in status quo. Bones doesn’t stroke his hair back at night just to see his eyes better. Spock stands a little too close and keeps making abortive movements like he’s about to reach out. Jim can sympathise, but it’s still weird to have affection cut off from everyone but the one person who’s always given him a cold shoulder. OR AOS Jim wakes up in a world where his father didn't die on the Kelvin, his crew are polite but not personal, and he's never stepped foot on Tarsus IV. Oh, and he's got the wrong size science blues hanging up next to his gold shirts. Est. 60k

❄️️ Untitled - Star Trek AOS - Jim Kirk/Spock

A military AU set throughout the Bell Riots, Second Civil War, Eugenics War, and WWIII. Est. 200k

One Direction

❄️️ Cherry - One Direction- OT5 (starts off Nouis-centric) - ABO

Louis Tomlinson is probably the bureau's least impressive employee (and that's including janitor Stan 'the Man') but when an anonymous hook-up leaves him the best person to infiltrate a crime ring, he's forced into the field with a fake identity. Can he seduce the members of The Pack well enough to bring them down? And by the time he uncovers more than just their secrets, will he want to? Est. 45k

❄️️ If I Could Fly- Larry - Spiderman!Louis + Uni AU

Louis is busy coming to terms with being a superhero, but that doesn’t mean all the other responsibilities that come with being human are suddenly put on hold. The sanctuary of the education system won't last forever, and with Harry-- his lovely, beautiful, sex-god of a boyfriend-- a week from graduating with Masters, it's time to start thinking about the future. Their future. If only Louis could get his past to stay in the past. How long can Louis keep spinning lies until he’s caught in his own web? He's hoping at least a week. Est. 25k

❄️️ The Goodbye Scene- Larry - Authors AU + Enemies to Lovers

Louis and Harry are in the midst of co-writing a novel. Everything is fine, except for how they kind of can’t stand each other right now. Harry’s a romantic, wants everything to be perfect with the glossy sheen of pornography. Louis hates that. Things aren’t always perfect, and he wants to show how sex in reality can actually be kind of lack luster and awkward. He might be a bit sour since he’s still getting over his ex, but so sue him. He’s right on this, okay? It culminates in a heated debate as Harry insists the extravagant can be sexy and romantic when done right. Louis doesn’t believe him, and he’s not putting it in the book until Harry proves it to him. Which means Harry decides to prove it. Thus begins their trials to see who’s right: can sex be just as sexy and lust filled as the most harlequin romance novel out there, or will these grand ideas fall flat and lead more to injury than ecstacy? Est. 20k

❄️️ Black Silk - One Direction - Larry - ABO + Crime Thriller

Louis is a drug mule for designer narcotics that gets caught in a messy drop-off that leaves him on the wrong side of a corrupt deal. With nowhere to go and a city full of gang-lords and millionaires on his tail for the lost product, Louis seeks haven with the last person he even remembers having a conversation with. Only Niall the friendly omega is out of town, and in his place is a grumpy cat-sitter who doesn’t appreciate convicts bleeding on the rug. Est. 30k

❄️️ Ride or Die, Sweetheart - Larry - Bike Racer AU + Exes to Lovers

Harry bleeds diesel. He exhales red desert dirt and sweats motor oil. After twenty-six years he’s discovered two truths of life: He was born to race. He will love Louis Tomlinson until the day he dies. A case could be made to say there's a third fact: Louis’s hate for him burns hotter than an engine in the sun Est. 40k

❄️️ Who Hung the Moon - Larry - Time Travel + Exes to Lovers

After the second worst day of his life, Harry is sent back in time to the most horrible-terrible-no-good-very-bad week of his existence: The week Louis Tomlinson shattered every dream he had and broke his heart. Est. 25k

❄️️ Broken Wishbones - Larry + Narry - ABO + Accidental Bonding

It was Louis who spent Christmas morning with Harry, and it was Louis who received birthday blowjobs, and it was always going to be Louis who got on one knee with a ring. Niall didn’t have a part in any of that. Which is why it’s so fucked up that the teeth marks on Harry’s neck don’t match Louis’s mouth. Est. 20k

❄️️ Honeybee - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Sex, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll during glamorous 70's. Est. 200k

Teen Wolf

❄️️ Hope You Get This Message - Teen Wolf - Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Had anyone actually seen him recently? When was the last time you spoke to him? Did any of us really know him? When the man known as Peter Hale disappears, Stiles is just one of a group of strangers that come together during the investigation. Pretty quickly it's clear that things don't quite match up to what everyone thought they knew about him. The one thing they can agree on is that everything they know about Peter might have been false, but there’s no way he’s guilty of what he’s being accused of. Right? The longer the case goes on, the more apparent it is that Peter wasn’t the only one with secrets. Est. 60k

See something you like? Want to read it sooner? Please send all encouragements and inquiries to my ask box! ♡ xoxo

#zanni writes #zanni fic #wip wip wip #zanni 2024

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gnomeniche · 1 year

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Duck definitely knows and is more aware than he let’s on , him saying “I don’t want to do this anymore” (on Food) implies he has known since a while. I think besides him being self-aware on some level, the fact that he can’t fit in whatever mold the show presents is his downfall, even when he tries going along he really doesn’t fall into the singalong. But that has also saved him (and the others)multiple times on the TV show, so I wonder if his character arc would revolve around him figuring that out (if they can somehow solve the resets / replacements issue)

this became impromptu duck analysis so uhhhh tl;dr I THINK YOU'RE RIGHT i think his character arc would involve heading in that direction. but readmore for full

I 100% AGREE WITH YOU. duck is absolutely aware to some extent. and the times he can't fit into the mold of the show are not for lack of trying. when he plays his role right, he does it so seamlessly that we don't even notice him twisting and turning himself. but when he can't, he REALLY can't, and it's always in response to something unexpected happening.

in "jobs," he does so well at first, even being the cue for the teacher, until the rug is unexpectedly pulled from under him, at which point he freaks out and tries to force things back on the track he thinks they were supposed to be on. in "food," one of his friends has COMPLETELY disappeared, which he cannot just ignore. "family" is somewhere between not fitting and playing along, where he objects but tries to go along with the twins' adventure and what they tell him to do, contorting his dislike of the situation into taking on the naysayer role that red has left unfilled. but all in all, when he does not want to do something he will NOT do it.

so why would he Want to play along? he clearly does NOT like the lessons. obligatory disclaimer about personal readings: if there are residual memories from the webseries in the back of these guys' minds, he's learned from "food" that any attempt at defiance will be met with something more painful. when he woke up briefly he found nothing but a black void (somewhat outside of the show-world, given how the episode was playing on the screens in that room) and evisceration. not that that WAS necessarily more "real"; the dull world that red found wasn't more "real," either, even if it seemed to be. but you would be under that impression if you were birdman at that moment.

so he's aware but terrified of what he might find if he decides to act on it. defiance means pain and death and darkness, so play along to stay safe. and it's hard to notice his dissatisfaction, as opposed to red's, because his coping mechanisms are joking/bravado instead of bitterness/apathy AND he's a better actor. his clipboarding at the end of "transport" shows that; he clings to a shred of normalcy and humor to deal with the reality that they are now stranded in a terrible place.

and i absolutely agree with you on the last part too. duck's growth HAS to involve dealing with his hidden terror and learned helplessness. but i think he can only do that for the sake of his friends. like, the one thing that terrifies him more than even the pain and nothingness is being left alone. that's why he knocks over the camera in "food," why he hates the "jobs" and "family" situations, why he can't stand being alone in his grave. but even though the road trip is SO transparently an attempt to break out, he seems fine because he's with his friends. if his arc is him learning that he HAS power and agency after all, he will be spurred toward it in some way by something involving his friends.

will it be him observing the little actions they make that builds up his courage? will it be the other two directly poking at reality again? will it be something horrible happening to them? who knows. birdmangelion when

#dhmis #dhmis duck #dhmis analysis #am.ask

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undertow-story · 7 months

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CHAPTER 002:

A LONG FALL

Sachiel headed off to the other side, a near invisible door frame opening up and allowing access to the brightly lit elevator. He stepped inside quietly, blinking harshly as he attempted to adjust his eyes to the sudden increase in light.

Over an intercom he could hear the receptionist’s nasally voice, “Now don’t be touchin’ nothin’ darlin’ weapons are kept in the bag at all times and any attempts at violence will result in penalties to your record as well as death. Please follow your designated guide and don’t stray from his sight, or you will be shot- the usual protocols.”

Sachiel remained poker-faced as the door opened to a pair of men heavily armed, with a small guide in a fancy casino-esque uniform gesturing to him from the middle of the floor.

He raised a brow as he followed.

Peculiar.

These humans have such odd mannerisms I swear... or maybe that’s just me being the odd one out.

The entire building was clad in shining lights and glistening metals, and the carpets at his feet had intricate rugs running all down the close and narrow corridors. The small guide lead him directly to the end of the corridor and into a room on the right. Inside was a man in business attire... and to his right a dog-like man just like Sachiel.

Sachiel couldn’t help but stare in raw confusion before returning his gaze to his client.

“Ah, yes... Sachiel. I’ve seen your record... very surprised you were willing to take on this hit given you've never take on a job of this type until now.”

“...I decided to do something different.” He spoke in short sentences, clearly not wanting to screw this up, but also still very clearly distracted.

“Very good. Your track record is quite remarkable you know? A right 'killing machine' when it comes to monsters." The man set a cigar to his mouth. "I won’t lie it must seem odd that one would choose the animal hunter to deal with a human case. Especially with the amount of applicants we saw.”

The slender, wide-eyed hound like Sachiel smirked, while lighting his boss’s cigar- clearly making direct, unsettling eye-contact with him.

“I will admit I am curious, but I am here for a job, not talk.” Sachiel bluntly stated, getting tired of his client's incessant chattering.

“To the point! I like it.” The boss laughed. “Alright here’s the down-low. I run this casino as a tight, well oiled machine. I’ve recently discovered one of my ‘associates’ has been dealing under the table on me- and rats like him don’t learn their place. I need you to take out an assassination on him.”

He slides Sachiel a file.

“He goes by Slick, it's a nickname.” He gestured to the hound to his right, “My bodyguard here, Emerson; and his brother, Jameson- noticed something was odd about Slick’s behaviour lately and led his brother to figure it out from the inside.”

The yellow eyes of Emerson pierced Sachiel’s with a heavy intimidation, the silence from him was unnerving given his gaze.

“Jameson found out about the embezzlements, and that Slick’s going to be meeting with a client tonight... rooftop of a rival casino three blocks down near the edge of the city in order to take loads of MY hard earned cash and exchange it for God’s know what."

He was clearly riled up.

Sachiel really didn't understand why this job was of such high importance... Especially with a price tag like that. Something was wrong.

"Your job is to take him out. He should be fairly unguarded as to not draw attention... as well- they won’t be expecting an attack from above, now will they? You are to drop down and clean up the place. No sidetracks, no joyrides anywhere else. You’re to wait on the rooftop, hidden until sundown. Got it?”

Sachiel took the file, resting it under his arm and nods.

“Good. Now my guard here will lead you to the rooftop. Jameson is next for a shift change by my side. I’ll see you in position from the window on the other side of the building so don’t try any funny stuff.”

Sachiel nods once more, speaking up only once. “I assume the reason you don’t let your guards do the job is because this guy poses a threat to your well being?”

“Nah- These guys are just bad with guns, they’re more... into brute force. Brute force ain’t gonna guarantee me a man dead. Several bullets to the head will. Get me?”

“...I see.” Sachiel stared once more at the slender, thin horned dog man before being led out the door by him.

Something wasn’t sitting right with him... but he was unsure what.

Sachiel followed along quietly, staring at his "guide". Emerson was so... thin. Not in a very normal manner either, Sachiel was almost certain this man was damn near skin and bones. He looked... Wrong.

He made note of the fact that this guy stood at least a foot taller than him. Those long thin horns that curved at the top looked like they'd snap with any type of force, and his... face. His face looked almost distorted. It was too long. His snout was not pointed up, but down, and his fur was a pristine, sickly white, with grey tones to it.

It was almost like he was barely held together.

Sachiel was going to speak, but it seemed Emerson was the one who wanted to talk first.

"So, Sachiel. I'm certain you have questions given that bewildered look you'd given me in the office." It almost sounded like a hiss rather than a blunt statement.

"...A few. You are the only other I've seen that-" Sachiel was cut off as fast as his sentence started.

"Looks like you. Correct." a long, unsettling grin came upon his face, his eyes staring into nothing. "I'm afraid that is something for another day, you see. You and I will get a chance to have this conversation again I do promise you that... No, I guarantee it. However this time has to be spent ensuring you do your job correctly."

"I don't understand why this job has such a high stake for such a simple target." Sachiel looked annoyed now.

"Oh come now." Emerson turned, his face directly in Sachiel's. "Isn't it obvious? It's because our boss doesn't understand the guns he has at arms, Sachiel. He doesn't know anything. He only knows what we make clear to his feeble little human mind. After all, he thinks this is huge and worth a large sum because you are here, after all."

Sachiel squinted, ears back.

"What does that mean?"

"Sachiel, your deeds don't go unnoticed. You are like a celebrity up here after all. Why, you're the hero of the Undertow, don't you know?" Emerson sneered, closer to him.

"I'm no fucking hero." Sachiel scoffed, backing off from Emerson's face.

"Well you are to some. Therefore to attract the big hero, you need a big sum. We know a lot about you after all. Now we really should focus and get back to work." Emerson turned, taking him to the elevator.

Sachiel did not like this at all. There was something wrong, both with this dog and with the situation as a whole.

Sachiel sat quietly on the rooftop.

He polished his pistol, staring at it very hard. It was a triple barrelled pistol... but yet, since waking with it in his hands he did not understand how it worked. He generally found he could only fire one bullet from it, and only if he focused and willed the shot into existence. There was no entry for him to insert more bullets into the chamber and activate the other two barrels. The main chamber just had a regular 6-shot revolver's look to it..... yet the dust and scrap at the end of the gun’s barrels clearly indicated that it could fire three shots at once.

He sighed.

What am I even doing. I hold a weapon I barely know how to use, and here I am taking on an assassination mission that very Clearly is overpriced for what the crime is... Something isn’t right. I don’t get it.

He frowned hard.

There is no reason why I should be here...this job could be taken on by anyone. Literally anyone. It’s just a human. Humans die when they’re shot in the head don’t they? I always see them fall after a head shot. Heads and hearts, that’s what one of my hirees told me before. No matter the species just aim for the head or heart and it should die.

...

Where are human’s hearts located anyway?

More importantly, what the fucking hell was that conversation with that... guy? What did he mean they knew of the things he did, were they spying on him or something?

The sun started to descend over the horizon. Looking down he could see a man, checking his watch on the next roof over, coming into view. He had the slicked back hair and a fancy tuxedo on, holding a breifcase.

Must be him.

Sachiel got himself into position, and then bolted. His legs felt like they were on fire as he leapt from the rooftop, dropping to the one below with a loud THUD.

The man whipped around and immediately began shooting, Sachiel ducking for cover as a bullet ripped through his arm. He snarled, whipping his pistol out and taking a blind shot in an attempt to force Slick into a reload. Instead he found that the man was attempting to sneak around the corner, only noticing his footsteps because of his acute sense of hearing.

Sachiel jumped around the corner as more bullets went flying, making note of the count... But suddenly being distracted by a foot flying at his face from the other side of his head. The kick was with a LOT of force, and cleanly knocked out a tooth from Sachiel’s jaw, forcing him backwards.

Looking up he fired his gun, only to find the shot missing, and in front of him was another hound, but in a different set of attire from the one he met earlier, and with far more creepy looking eyes.

This must be the brother?

“The hell you think you’re doin gettin' in the way of my kill.” It didn’t even sound like a question anymore, as Sachiel snarled, spitting out blood onto the ground.

“Sachiel, was it?” He smirked, rolling up a sleeve. “ Call me Jameson. Listen... my brother and I have been keeping a watch of you you know? We both know you’re a very efficient hunter. Which is why we needed to lure you up here so we could deal with you properly.”

“...I see.” Sachiel cocked his gun, firing, only to be baffled when Jameson shoved a fist into his gut at a speed he’d never even seen in a monster before.

What the hell..?

Sachiel staggered back, shooting again only to miss once more. Somehow, his shots weren’t hitting Jameson in the slightest.

The fucking hell is this thing, why can’t I hit him I have a clear shot every single time? Something isn’t right, nothing about this is right, I knew it was a set up but I thought I’d still have the upper hand? After all it was only a human...

“Sachiel, we need to keep those people down there feeling helpless, they can’t be feeling hope now you understand? You’ve been causing quite the stir in your slaying and we aren’t impressed. How else do you think we managed to keep people down there from trying to revolt?”Jameson smiled, a very unnerving grin.

“...How-”

“Enough talk, you’re an asset to all of our plans now and this a great show for the boss to witness, so you need to get going.” Jameson lifted up Sachiel by the jacket.

Sachiel grunted and shot Jameson point blank in the head, a deafening silence falling between them and Slick, who just stood there watching with an unbroken expression.

Heads and hearts.... That’s how you deal with all of your problems, they told me.

As it turns out...

Heads was a lie.

Jameson turned on his heel staggering forwards, swaying back and forth with a terribly excited expression- bringing Sachiel to the edge of the building. It stood far above The Undertow, a direct pit descending down into the abyss of his ‘home’ from the edge of the upper city.

What convenient placement for this fight.

“You really have to try harder than that to kill me. It's almost as if you know nothing about us? We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen.” He waved a hand over his wound, as it started to seal.

Sachiel was mortified.

It didn’t take long before he figured out what was going to happen. He felt the drop, as Jameson let go and he started to fall. He could see a little wave from the hellhound as the lights started to fade from sight.

Deeper, deeper, deeper.

Farther, farther, farther.

The lights from above were gone now, and as he fell, he couldn’t help but think to himself that something was still not right.

...Why throw me? Seems excessive.

How did he not die, either? Am... I... Can I do that?

What was that healing thing- wait. All those times I managed to take on hits people were so confused about; the ones who panicked at my wounds- Does this mean-

Unfortunately, that thought wasn't finished as Sachiel blacked out.

The ground always comes so fast, no matter the height you seem to fall.

Previous | Next

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averylegacy · 1 year

Text

continued

@iwanttheromance

Jackson always tried to be honest, Even if the truth hurt. He tried to be loyal until you gave a reason to walk. When it came to his marriage with April; he can admit now he had his own role into how we fell apart. It was easy to blame her; to blame April for leaving. For Jordan; for us losing our first baby. But I also didn’t fight for her; for us. I waited until she was ready to come home, I realized now I had disrespected her needs; what she needed for herself. Yeah I wanted to be in her corner. I wanted her to need me, the way I had needed her. Instead of holding her; of telling her we’d be okay I had ripped the rug out from under her.

I decided it was over; and truth was it was my biggest regret. I felt I walked away too soon, that I had given up on us. That the repairs were too broken. But now in the last few months I saw I’ve been lost since our diovice. Since we signed those papers; I haven’t been the same. I might not believe in her warship of god, but when it counted Jackson had to admit God had his back. Each time he prayed when April was pushed into this situation stuck to a hospital bed fighting for her life; god had helped her; helped us. We might have our differences, but we also had a whole lot of love for each other.

Matthew; I wasn’t defending him, I was just trying say I understood why he couldn’t get past the first marriage. If I was in his shoes; I’d walk. Being forced to see the guy that stole my almost wife the first time we went down the alter, being forced into a weird relationship with the dad of his step daughter. I had to be realistic. I wanted the redhead to feel better; I wanted her to stop blaming herself. This fallen marriage wasn’t her fault; it was doomed from the start. I wasn’t going to say the words; but I was entailed to think it. Matthew I believed did love April; but it was kinda mirable he was able to forgive. I can only offer a hand; a shoulder for her now. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Hand locked in hers; I had inched myself closer to the bed as our hands were laced together. Thump had traced small circles around her knuckles as I heard her remark about her track record with marriages. I could brush it off with a cute quip remark but this might be the right opening for a real conversation; about our own history we both held close to our hearts.

“ You know our marriage, we both played a role in why it didn’t work out. I.. I’m sorry for hurting you when I decided it was over. I just.. I was hurt and I just I didn’t want to feel the pain anymore. But seeing you here like this.. Even before I can’t help but wonder if I jumped the gun..” With us; but I held my tongue shut on that one; not wanting to make it awkward if this was a internal battle with myself; and not a can April wanted to open.

Green eyes lifted to meet her gaze, teasing; it was a habit. But I was the best looking guy she’d ever dated let’s be honest. A low chuckle emitted through bare lips. “ I think someone still has the hots for me huh..?” A joke; a light hearted joke; it was easy to fall into old habits with each other. We could always count on each other. As for her release date; I had to glance to the doorway; where I did spot Bailey still lingering; probably to drop news if I allowed her to. Arching head forward I thought about the arrangement in my head; but did it make sense for us.

“ I may be able to talk Bailey into releasing you by the weekend but only if you stay at the penthouse with me and Harriet. I don’t want you to be alone.” A sense of care in his voice; as if it was easy. He’d take care of her; Jackson didn’t trust anyone else to ensure her safety regardless of the female’s answer.

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alidravana · 1 year

Text

Day 1. Housewarming

Planned to do some drabbles for @domaystic's prompts this month only for the first drabble to end up at over 700 words...oops?

Will plan to tidy this up and post to A03 eventually, but here's a scene from the 'Leave a Light On' canon divergence, where Kick reflects on his and Hesh's journey towards buying a house, for Day 1: housewarming.

Home. A four letter word that means so much more; a place to feel safe, to be warm, to be loved.

Kick never had one when he was growing up. His mother had taken off, his brother abused his trust, and he never felt safe around his father, not with all his side comments about people like him. As soon as he was old enough, he took off, south towards Mexico, intending to get lost in a sea of people and culture.

It worked for a while. He found a girl, thought he was in love, made some friends. He finally thought he was closer to making that home, only to find himself knocked off his feet, the rug pulled out from under him again.

After literally stumbling into the Ghosts, it took a long time for him to get comfortable with the team, to accept the brotherly bond that Ajax and Keegan were offering, and to accept the safety that the team so freely granted. Once he settled in, he was happy. He had found his home. Until Rorke came along and took his brothers away, one by one.

Kick never blamed Hesh for going after Rorke that day, only wishing that he had been by his side. He was by Hesh’s side the next time they tried, and that time, they were successful. But while dead bodies tell no lies, they don’t tell anything else either, and so the next few years, they searched, hunting down any clue, tracking down any trace of Logan but ended up with nothing.

Kick knew that to this day, that Hesh believed Logan was alive, and there were times that Kick wished he still believed that too. But Hesh had finally taken the steps towards healing too.

They both decided to retire from service. It had been a bit harder for Hesh, having planned on staying in the military longer term, just like his father. The only thing that had Kick staying around in the first place was the team itself, and the Ghosts were a shell of what had existed before; Merrick and Keegan retiring not long after they lost Logan. Neptune was now the last soldier standing.

It had taken them a while to find the right house; Hesh wanting some distance from town, Kick wanting a large enough garage for all his toys, and both of them wanting to have a handful of spare rooms to have the rest of the team over.

But here they were, standing at the foot of their sidewalk, two sets of keys securely in each of their hands, staring at each other almost in disbelief.

“Ready?” Kick asked Hesh, reaching out to grab his hand.

“I still can’t believe we have a house,” Hesh replied with a grin, leaning in to plant a kiss on Kick’s cheek.

Kick allowed Hesh to go first, falling in behind him as they headed towards the front door, only to find himself smacking against Hesh’s back as his partner stopped abruptly.

“Uhh...Hesh? Why’d you stop?” Kick asked, trying to peer around his partner’s broad shoulders.

“Did you buy those flowers?” Hesh asked, sounding alarmed as he pointed at the large pot of sunflowers that were sitting on the front step.

“N-no?” Kick replied, looking at his partner curiously, unsure why Hesh was seeming concerned.

“They were mom’s favourite flowers…” Hesh said softly, almost a whisper as he bent down by the pot, his fingers flickering through the leaves, as if he was looking for something. “Dad always made sure to get some for her birthday.”

Kick’s eyes flickered to the surrounding area, quickly scanning for signs that anyone was around, or that anyone had been around. His mind was telling him that they had to have been left by their agent, or the previous owners, but there was something about the whole set up that left him feeling unmoored.

“Sorry,” Hesh muttered, standing back up suddenly, sliding his arm around Kick’s waist. “Got a bit side tracked there. Ready to have sex in every room?” Hesh asked with a wink, his hand sliding lower to squeeze Kick’s butt.

Kick grinned in response, sliding out of Hesh’s grip to make a dash for the door.

“First one in tops!”

#call of duty #ghosts #domaystic #day 1 #housewarming #leave a light on canon divergence #hesh/kick #hesh walker

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longroadstonowhere · 1 year

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i was gonna make a little more of a shitpost about something in zelda, but hey i’m enjoying doing these little debriefs into the void, let’s talk about what i did today

i’m gonna say lategame totk spoilers below

so like, this morning i woke up and was like ‘okay, it’s final boss time, let’s do this thing’ because, like, i got the mission to go into hyrule castle! it’s time to track down the fake zelda and figure out what’s really going on there! and, well, i did figure that out, but uh, it wasn’t the final boss

so after getting over being flabbergasted at the rug being pulled out from under me (which, to be clear, i absolutely loved that i didn’t see this coming), i ran around doing some chasm exploration (hehehe), did some random side questy things like updating the purah pad (which, i like how they put the dlc stuff from botw into the regular part of this game - makes me wonder if there’s any dlc planned for totk down the line), and then finally remembered the ring ruins in kakariko existed so was able to continue the main quest

had some difficulties getting to the thunderhead isles (thought i would be cool and land in the pond on the first island, instead i smashed my head against a pillar), but adventuring through those was fun, and now i’m in the depths with mineru trying to put her body together - got the left leg to her on the first attempt, but the right leg took me like four or five tries to get over to her, so i started wondering if she really needs both legs that badly, hahaha (this was what the shitpost was gonna be about by the by)

that’s where i’ve stopped for the night, because redoing something several times only to fail at the end is frustrating, and since i need to sleep anyway that was a good point to stop

i’m glad the fake zelda didn’t end up being mineru, and that she’s got her own temple (either this factory or another whole dungeon beyond it), and that we get to hang out! because you know she’s my fave new npc based on nothing but pure imagination, can’t wait to see what she’s actually like to decide if she’s actually going to be my fave, hahaha

i also really loved the whole riddle getting the ancient thunder outfit put together, and exploring the whole dracozu lake area, because i know i wandered around there in botw, and it’s really cool how the environment can completely change when you have a slightly new context

so tomorrow i’ve got a dentist thing, which means i probably won’t start playing until the afternoon, but i’ve got high hopes for finishing the main story by friday, since, like... there can’t be that much more, right? like we’re approaching skyward sword levels of ‘oh i didn’t realize you could put this much in a zelda game’, which is extremely awesome! but at some point i gotta take down ganondorf, and maybe bring zelda back from being a dragon??? like.... some part of me still can’t believe they’ll leave her like that, i’m really hoping mineru can pull some spirit shenanigans

oh! also because i was curious, i looked up where the ancient shirt is (or archaic shirt or whatever it’s called), and it’s in a cave, so like obviously i wasn’t gonna find it because like hell i was doing anything on tutorial island that wasn’t the main quest stuff with how few hearts i had

oh, and also i like how they had another vitality check during the thunderhead isles stuff, but they had a shrine and a goddess statue right there, so you could easily warp back if you needed to run off and do some shrine hunting (but uh, it only needed ten hearts and i’m at seventeen now, so, you know, we good - although it’s hard for me to tell because the hearts aren’t going onto a second line, so i have to walk up to my tv and count carefully to figure out how many i have)

i find it interesting that, if you do all the main story stuff, they expect you to have at least ten hearts and two rings of stamina, it’s an interesting benchmark and i kinda wonder if there was any purpose to it or if it was just a random choice

i also wonder if there’ll be any more vitality checks along the way - i will probably be fine, but it’ll be interesting to find out

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cassandrajoybellbittner · 4 months

Text

*Warning Adult Content*

HE'S DIFFERENT - Chapter 4

Adyen

Len meet me in the library.

He strolled in a little late and looked lost until his eyes caught mine from across the room.

He smiled and I looked away feeling a bit flustered.

We worked on our assignment together for the next few hours.

Something I noticed was that Len was smart and could stay focused for long periods of time, a big contrast from the panicky and oblivious dufus I had been talking to until then.

He also seemed less fidgety around me.

Maybe he'd sorted out whatever it was that had him acting weird.

I even asked for his help along the line and he'd been kind enough to show me what to do.

He knew his stuff and he seemed to get into a fixated zone when working.

Somewhere in the middle of all the side glances I gave him, I decided that he didn't look that bad.

I know I had made up my mind a while back that he wasn't my type but he was a lot easier on the eyes once you got used to the rugged jawline and high chiseled cheekbones.

"What are you going to do after this?" I asked, watching Len zip up his backpack.

We had just finished with our assignments and were packing up.

"Eat some lunch," he said, staring at me.

I hummed and nodded in response.

Earlier this morning during my track practice, I had worried about what Len would think of me when we worked together.

I joked about being broke but it was a coping mechanism.

The idea was that if I did it first people would look dumb doing it to me.

I had looked at Len's drawing equipment when he had pulled them out to work and I had noticed how most of his stuff was old or outdated versions of new models.

I know it shouldn't have made me feel relieved but it did.

There was a complex I still hadn't gotten over after going to a prep school on scholarship.

Having costly stuff or at least being bothered about having pricey things were just the staple and the attitude just carried over to my university life.

Yeah, people didn't stop being materialistic after high school.

When my teammates started talking about their shoes or watches I slipped away to be by myself.

I didn't have anything to show off and by the looks of it neither did Len.

"Do you want to come with me?" I blinked, hearing Len's voice.

"To grab lunch," he clarified as he got up from the black chair.

The library was large and there weren't many people around so there was pin-drop silent aside from the occasional cough in the distance.

I stared at him for a bit before getting up with my own bag.

"Sure," I said, watching as Len smiled before he started walking in the direction of the exit.

I hurried after him, towing behind him before deciding that was weird and walking up until I was at his side.

He was taller than my 5'10 and wider than my skinny self.

We left the library, walking out into the streets that hit us with a chilling winter breeze and snow from the sky above.

Spring couldn't come fast enough.

I blinked when a flake got in my eye.

I was that I had tucked my hair under a black beanie unless I would have had to deal with wet hair when I got back to my dorm room.

Len wasn't wearing a hat or even a scarf.

He didn't seem too affected by the weather.

It reminded me a bit of the time we met.

He hadn't been wearing any of those either.

He had on a puffer jacket and plaid blue jeans, though.

"The student union cafeteria's fine, right?" he asked and I blinked, looking.

I had somehow forgotten I had been staring at him⁠.

A change of pace I guess⁠... being the creep today.

"Yeah, that's fine," I muttered, pulling up the hoodie of my jacket.

"Great," he nodded as we walked in the direction of the student union building.

It was one of the oldest on campus with its old-style gothic McMansion look.

When we got there we stood in line together, getting our lunch from the same Indian food stall.

"You like this too?" I asked, sitting across from him on one of the many two-seat tables in the cafe.

Len looked up at me, before looking down at his food and nodding.

"Yeah."

There was silence after that as we ate our food quietly.

I sulked at the fact that we weren't talking but I didn't have anything in mind to talk about and Len looked okay with being quiet.

"So," I started, watching as Len's eyes shot up to meet mine.

"What are you about?" I cursed at myself in my head for being cringed but it was the only conversation starter I could think of.

"What?" Len rose a brow and I shrugged.

"You know..." I shrugged.

"Tell me about yourself," I said, teasing the curve of the plastic cup in front of me.

"Come on, say something. I'm bored," I insisted.

He gave me a weird look as a low hum escaped his pursed lip.

He looked so focused, it was hilarious.

He suddenly smiled and I noticed the little mole on his right cheek when a complementary dimple formed.

"Let's see..." he trailed, using the fork on his tray like a drumstick.

"I'm an architecture major."

"I am too," I cut in, resting my elbows on the table before using my hands to cup my face.

"Kinesiology minor, you?"

"Art and design," Len said in response and I nodded my head.

"Are you from Toronto?" he asked.

"Nah, Ottawa."

At least that was where my last foster home had been.

I've been everywhere from Alberta, BC and Saskatchewan but Len didn't need to know the specifics.

At least, not yet.

"You?" I asked, not wanting the conversation to die.

"Alberta," he said before taking a sip from his Diet Coke.

"More specifically, Peace River."

The cafeteria was a bit rowdy so I had to read his lips a bit to pick up what he was saying.

Len stared at me for a bit, before talking.

"What kind of things do you like to do?"

The question was as wobbly as his voice.

I smiled, noting that this was starting to feel like a twenty-one questions game.

"I do Track. You should come and watch me run sometime."

I don't know why but I was starting to feel a bit flirty.

I watched as Len's eyes widened a bit.

He looked away from me, seeming to try and collect his thoughts.

"Sorry, are you flirting with me?"

I don't know why but that question caught me off guard a bit.

I picked at my curls, trying to figure out what to say.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Yeah, I had been flirting with him but no one had ever asked a question directly like that.

It felt weird to be put in the spot like that.

"I need to know. I'm not amazing at reading signals."

I watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

He was fumbling with his fingers, keeping himself busy.

"Sorry. Ignore what I just asked..."

"Yeah," I said, cutting him off.

If I was going to tell him I was gay, this was the best time.

"I'm gay," I said, watching as Len looked up.

His lips parted a little and there was a brief look on his face I failed to read before it was gone.

"Oh," was all he said, licking his lips before letting out a breath.

"Okay."

What's up with that reply, I wondered, raising a brow at him.

'Okay?'

This was the part where he was supposed to tell me he was gay too.

Wasn't he?

"What kind of stuff do you like to get yourself into?" I asked, deciding that I no longer wanted to have the current conversation.

Maybe I had misread Len.

Maybe he wasn't interested in me like I had guessed.

"I play Lacrosse."

I don't know why but I clapped at Len's answer.

I liked Lacrosse but I too skinny to play a roughing-up game like that.

"I like lacrosse," I said, watching as Len smiled.

"Well, maybe you can come and watch me play sometime."

He gave me a side smirk and I felt the blood run from my face.

Was this his way of flirting back?

"Sounds like a plan," I said, looking down at my hands.

I wasn't sure what was up with me.

I flirted all the time... with people I was interested in and with people I wasn't.

It often took a lot to shake and confuse me but here I was getting flustered at Len's bad attempt at copying me.

"Do you live on campus?"

I looked up.

"Yeah," I answered watched as Len looked out into the distance.

"Ah, alright. I was wondering if we could take the bus together. Guess we can't," he said.

He looked a little sad about it.

A chuckle left my lips.

He looked adorable and I was amazed at how honest his expressions were.

They gave him away.

Someone the trait that had made him come off as creepy was now endearing.

One of his full brows rose a bit, as if asking me what I was laughing at.

I waved him off, resting my head on my hand.

"Do you have anything going on this Saturday?" he asked.

"I'll check," I said.

I had nothing going on.

I didn't have friends to go out with or anything but I didn't want Len to know that... at least not yet.

I don't know, there was something about him today that made me want to look less like a mess.

He didn't need to know I was a loser.

"If you have some time it would be cool if you followed me downtown some time. There's this Pizza place I go to all the time," he said.

I stayed quiet for a bit, wondering if he just wanted to hang out or if this was a date of some sort.

Unlike Len however, I wasn't brave enough to ask for clarifications directly.

"Alright," I said and he smiled.

We managed to shift the conversation to school-related things.

We complained about our assignments and professors together.

We also laughed about weird stuff that happened around campus.

When our plates were empty and we had to accept that we'd been sitting in the cafe for a little too long we got up and headed out the Student Union building, parting ways at a close bus stop.

As I made my way to the residence building I kept wondering why I was suddenly overwhelmed by Len.

Today he was... well, different.

The smile I'd been wearing since I left the cafeteria didn't leave even when I got into my room.

The first thing I did after getting into more comfortable clothes was to text Len to tell him I was available on Saturday and when there was an opening I asked if he had other social media.

I take back saying he was not my type.

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mirrorfad · 2 months

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hrm

haven't ranted about the whole thing with further day job yet bc haven't left home since Monday other than to go to night job and have no Internet at home lol. but anyways yeah I'm just stuck in the comatose "what's even the point of getting another job when I'll just be considered a failure at it too" stage. i mean i want a failure at the job, there were never problems at my last clinic lol 🤪 its literally the place itself (no mystery why their last two receptionists bailed on them before too long lmao), and i just happened to be the bullying target 😋 but yeah regardless I'm so tired of trying my damnedest to hardly survive (I'm not surviving anymore tbh I'm in massive debt from trying to survive that I'm behind on and still never be able to catch up on teehee). like there is no point man. I'm only here for my cats, since they need me. but I'm struggling more and more to even use that as justification for staying alive. I'm just so tired. i need a break. i need a break so badly but I'm poor as shit so I'm not ALLOWED one or else I'll just get the permanent break of "being homeless" (WHICH IS NOT A BREAK AT ALL ITS JUST 8 MILLION TIMES HARDER TO SURVIVE AND FOR LITERALLY NO REASON BC THIS COUNTRY AND THIS WORLD HATE AND VILIFY YOU FOR WHAT THEY'RE CAUSING YOU TO GO THRU LMAO!!).

since I'm forced with no choice to continue working myself to my literal death despite my body's PLETHORA of disabilities, which by all means SHOULD QUALIFY ME FOR DISABILITY PAY IF THIS COUNTRY/WORLD DIDN'T HATE US AS MUCH AS HOMELESS FOLK, but no that process is literally impossible bc they WANT you to fail at it and "you can clearly work!" yeah bc i have NO CHOICE!! I HAVE NOBODY TO FINANCIALLY SUPPORT ME WHILE I EITHER DON'T WORK FOR A YEAR OR SPEND A YEAR MAKING PENNIES JUST SO I CAN EVEN QUALIFY???? And even IF you do end up getting it after stupid nightmare years long process it is also just extreme poverty level pittance they throw away you 😑 and its so funny how badly they wanna kill disabled and homeless ppl off, but suicide is a SIN to be FROWNED UPON AND HATED lmao??? like they just want suffering instead, no death until you've suffered endlessly for no reason, even more than you already have for 800 years 🤪

and anyways got off track but whatever who cares nothing matters anyways. I'll just end up not being able to survive this month, not being able to afford the $1,800 i need to file for bankruptcy (I'm DESPERATELY NEEDING TO FILE FOR BANKRUPTCY literally how am i supposed to ever have that money lol???), and then getting another mind numbing job i hate so i can continue to both physically and mentally rot away 😋😋😋

o yeah and this isn't even mentioning the whole needing to move thing bc our 3rd roommate decided to break lease and jump ship on us earlier this month with no warning whatsoever. he used a form that's luckily not COUNTING this as a broken lease for any of us, but its still a selfish and unnecessary thing of him to throw at us lol!!! i still need to call and see if i can take him to small claims court over it, bc idk if the form he has protects him from that, even tho me and other roommate are just innocent bystanders in his entire mess. I'm tired of being disrespected, uncared about, and thrown under the rug. i really hope i AM able to take his ass to court.

but anyways I'd like to thank Slay the Spire for being an amazing distraction for the last 3 days and being the sole thing keeping me from throwing myself into a lake with cinderblocks tired to my ankles. glad i never played it before now so that i have it to play now with brand new eyes lol

also missed my therapist appt yesterday bc normally its on Wednesdays but was on Tuesday this week so i adjusted my alarm time for it to the right time... on the wrong... day... i really needed that this week man :")

#delete later #hate life and being alive with my whole entire heart and soul and being

0 notes

yikimiki · 2 years

Text

> made for me (+18)

Eren is utterly sure you’re made especially for him, and he’ll go above and beyond to take what’s his.

4k words ♡ eren x fem!reader ♡ dark content

⚠️ warnings: smut, dark themes, stalking, manipulation, yandere!eren, possessiveness, delusions, mentions of violence and death, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, size kink, rough/desperate sex, noncon pregnancy kink

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Eren thinks it’s quite pathetic how easy it is for him to track you down — well, to be fair, you did give him your address the first time you met.

Apartment 402, block B. Big brown building, number 671, two roads down from the shopping mall, turning left and then right, and then left again. The elevator was broken the first time he went there, so he had to go up about sixty steps to get to your floor. Third door to the right — the one with the white and purple welcome rug, and the pink flowers. You opened your door at exactly nine twenty four, one minute before your food delivery was due.

“Thank you so much, I’m starving!” You smiled, and you smiled so big and bright that Eren thought he finally understood the meaning of life. He barely even reacted when you reached out for the money over your counter, picking the heavy box from his hands, and said. “No need for change, it’s the right amount.”

Eren pretended to check, shuffling the coins around and looking at the paper, but his mind was paralyzed, focused on you. “All right,” he was speaking on autopilot now. “Have a good night, miss.”

You smiled again, and everything Eren wanted to do was to get down on one knee and ask you to marry him right away. “You too.”

And then your door closed. And his work started.

It took Eren five minutes to get back to his motorcycle, two minutes to check your name on the app again. It’s a pretty name, because of course it is. Your data is all there: full name, birthday, amount of times you ordered in this restaurant (three) and your consumer points. Nothing impressive, but somewhat active. There’s no picture, but that’s not an issue. Eren finds your socials right away, and saves the pages for when he’s alone at home.

Eren has never considered himself the dedicated type — one of the many reasons why he decided college wasn’t for him in the first place, and got that delivery job until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life — but, with you, it’s different. With you, he dedicates every passing second of his day thinking about you, learning about you. Your Instagram page is open, you have a modest amount of followers, and a handful of pictures — tells him that you’re not super interested in being hopelessly online, which he appreciates. Your stories and highlights are an open book of your personality, though — the books you read, the bands you like, the food you order, the friends you hang out with. Your Twitter is filled with corny jokes and random comments about your day, your job, someone who was particularly annoying in the line to catch the bus. It’s a perfect slice of you, a beginner’s course you made just for him.

Eren knows where you spend most of your days now, where you go for a bite and where you work out. He visits your apartment when you’re out — silly you to leave the spare key under the rug, it’s like you’re giving him a sign that you want for someone (him) to be swept into your life — and he finds out which medications you take, which panties you use. Eren practically knows your schedule by heart, and he has done his homework by reading some of the same books you mentioned in your socials, in case he needs some extra points. He wants to have something to talk to you about — he knows you’ll appreciate it.

The next step happens purely out of luck, and it convinces Eren that you two are truly meant to be; that the entire universe is working alongside him. It’s in a passing conversation between him and Jean, in which Eren forgets to close his Instagram app with your profile open, that he finds out that the man standing before you actually knows you. Jean knows you! Eren cannot believe his luck; cannot understand how someone as unremarkable as Jean has been chosen to have a taste of someone as special as you in his pathetic life. But well. Jean is a friend of a friend, not particularly close to you by any means, and he went out in a group (which included you) about two months ago. Eren’s rage spikes when he hears his friend talking about how hot you are, but it instantly subsides when Jean offers to introduce you two. Eren accepts it promptly.

The wait almost makes him pass out — nothing feels enough anymore, his desire to have you is consuming him like a paper to an open flame. His need has reached a thunderous crescendo and he doesn’t know what to do with it anymore.

At first, Eren thought his love for you is pure, platonic almost, but the world proved him wrong. You’re a temptress, he thinks, a demon sent down to set his soul on fire. Eren craves to discover how your skin feels against his, wishes he could touch your curves and sigh against your soft lips. Eren fists his cock every single night and cries out your name, wishing for all the gods above that he finally gets to feel your sweet little cunt all to himself.

He spills his seed all over his abs and thinks of you, you, you. You, as this siren dragging him to the depths; you, who was clearly handmade for him, from your body to your soul. You, who would surely appreciate all the lengths he’d go to just to keep you safe. Eren wonders if you’re a virgin — if you’re smart enough to have saved yourself for him. He asks himself, hand teasing his sensitive, spent cock, if he’ll be your first, if he’ll be able to claim your pussy as his. Even if you’re not, he’ll figure it out. You are his forever, you are made for him. No matter what came before.

♡ ♡ ♡

The party happens three months after his talk with Jean, and Eren doesn’t know how he was able to handle the impulse of breaking your door down and fucking you until you’re crying in the meantime. It’s a pathetic college party at the outskirts of the city, filled with drunken losers and incoherent music — the type he would never go to if it wasn’t for you — and part of him hopes that you’re also being dragged in there against your will.

“____, this is the guy I was telling you about: Eren,” Jean says, voice fighting past the loud thumping of the song. Eren almost chokes: he has been talking about him? What about? He hopes that hasn’t stained your image of him. “Eren, this is ___.”

Obviously, he knows. Eren knows everything about you.

“Nice to meet you,” once again, your smile makes all his worries dissipate. Your pretty eyes are blinking up at him, eyebrows coming down into a frown as you search for something on his face. Eren’s cheeks heat up, feeling like a cell under a microscope. “You look familiar, have we met before?”

He chuckles, and decides to play it safe — he doesn’t want to come across as too eager, especially now that he doesn’t know what has been said about him. “I don’t think so, I would’ve remembered.”

You bite your lower lip. Eren is pretty sure you’re just lying so you don’t look too overwhelmed to finally be rejoined with your one true soulmate. It’s okay. He understands. He knows what you’ve been through — thinking about him, desiring him — and he won’t rush it. Two can play this game. “That’s strange… I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“Well, I…” Eren clears his throat. He should receive an oscar for his nervous-boy performance. He thinks you’ll find it endearing. “I work for a food delivery service, but I look pretty different with, you know, work clothes. Maybe something like that?”

Your eyes light up instantly. How adorable you are, pretending you don’t know that already. “That’s probably it! What a coincidence.”

He smiles right back. He is beyond elated that you remember him — it is the obvious sign that he means something to you as well, that you finally decided to stop these games. “Yeah. A huge coincidence,” he says, side-eyeing Jean, who instantly gets the cue to turn around and leave. Finally: you two are alone, an island of pure souls amongst so many lost ones. Eren swears he sees the halo around your head. “So, what are you doing at this party? Doesn’t seem like your type.”

You chuckle, crossing your arms. You smell sweet, just like Eren remembers. “My type? What do you mean?”

He shrugs. You have complained in your instagram captions and on twitter (precisely three weeks ago now) that you thought you weren’t built for college parties. “You seem like the serious type, that’s all.”

“Well… maybe,” you agree, crossing your arms. But you don’t answer beyond that. “And you?”

“Wanted to meet you,” it comes out of his mouth before he’s able to hold it back. Eren almost chokes on his own spit, and he sees the confusion plastered all over your face. You don’t seem scared, however. You look like you’re inviting him in, just like you had been doing for the past months.

“Meet me?” You echo.

He thinks quickly. “Yeah… it’s a bit embarrassing.” Eren itches the back of his head, right beneath where his hair is tied up. “Ever since Jean showed me a picture of you, I’ve kind of had a crush.”

“Ah.” Your face instantly relaxes, a small smirk curling up at the corner of your lips. Eren never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life. But he can wait — at least for a little bit longer, he thinks you deserve a good amount of courting before he takes what is his. “That’s really cute.” Bingo. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Eren?”

And he does. Well, at least about the version of him he has handmade especially for you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Eren is not the bad guy — he knows he’s not. But he is not the best at self restraint either.

It’s a little controversial when taken into account the months of cold, torturous obsession he has endured because of you, but that was because he never had you so close. Never seen your gorgeous eyes staring up at him like he was made of marble and silver; your tender voice enveloping him like a warm blanket. It’s only a matter of time before he loses his cool, and he knows it.

Like he predicted, knowing about your interests proves to be the right choice. It’s after a specific reference about one of the books that you recommended — one that earns him the most gorgeous smile in the world — that he leans in, unable to stop himself, and crashes his lips against yours.

The kiss is sensual, slow; he wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you up against his toned body, keeping you close as your delicate fingers tangle in his hair. You taste like cherries and a little tinge of alcohol, the smell of your perfume intoxicates him like nothing else. Eren is utterly lost in your soft lips and, when he asks for entrance, they part right away, allowing for his tongue to brush against yours. You whimper against the kiss and his cock throbs inside his pants — it has been hard ever since he saw you for the first time — and he can’t help but back you up against a wall, deepening the kiss as his other hand pulls you closer by the neck.

Eren almost cums when you bite his lip, moving your head back so you can look into his green eyes. With a voice that sounds like an angel and a demon, you ask him to go upstairs and find somewhere private.

It’s a little frustrating, he thinks. Eren wanted to make your first time special, something you’d remember him by, something that would make it clear that you belong to one another forever. But now that he’s been tempted by this inccubus that lives within you, he cannot help but fold, taking you into a vacant room and tearing your clothes off until you’re naked and whimpering beneath his large figure.

“You’re so pretty, it’s like you’re not even real,” he rambles. The alcohol in his system thins his inner filter, but you don’t seem to mind. Your delicate hands are tangled in his hair, legs on either side of his waist as he leans closer, licking a fat stripe up your neck. “Tastes so good, too. Bet your pussy tastes even better.”

Your breath hitches at his filthy words, and you raise your hips slightly so your core brushes against his hard, still covered cock. Eren catches your drift and presses himself down against your clothed slith, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Pretty girl… all mine… made for me…” he trails off, placing small kisses down your chest. His eager hands are pressing your tits together, his tongue coming out to lick at your exposed nipples. You keen under his hold and arch your back, whimpering his name like a beautiful prayer, but Eren is too far gone to fully appreciate it. “Need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you whimper, eyelashes fluttering as you stare up at him. “I need you too.”

Of course you do. You are made for him, and he is made for you. This type of intimate union is the final stage of his claim over you — the first domino of a long sequence of events, if he’s lucky. Eren cannot contain his excitement as he leans back and pulls his pants down, tugging his underwear alongside it and throwing it aside.

He hasn’t removed his gaze away from you for one single second, and he watches as your eyes widen as they notice his cock spring free from his pants. Eren knows he’s big — bigger than average, for sure, with an equally threatening girth and heavy balls to match. And he knows what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours before you even utter that, “It’s not gonna fit.”

“I’ll make it fit. Open up,” Eren orders, but your legs stay hesitantly pulled together. He groans, impatient, and shoves your knees apart, placing himself between your thighs. “I said open.”

“Eren,” you whimper helplessly, watching as he sucks two fingers into his mouth before lowering them to your core. “Slow down.”

But he can’t, he can’t slow down. Not when you’re spread open and glistening before him, ready to be eaten up like a meal. Giving yourself to him. “Shit, look at this tight little pussy.” Eren slowly enters one finger inside you, feeling as your warm walls clench around him. His cock throbs in his hold, and he has to squeeze its base so he doesn’t cum on the spot. You’re too tight, there’s no way you have been fucked properly before. “Tell me you want it.”

You shiver, eyes closing as he fingers you open. “I want it, please.”

He shoves another finger inside, curling them up and making you yelp with the sudden rush of pleasure. He’s not satisfied. “Actually beg for it. Show me how much you need me.”

“Fuck me, Eren, please,” you sob, chest quivering with trembling breaths as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight, perfect heat. It’s a half-assed prep, he knows that, but he’s not doing it with the intention to fully stretch you out. He wants to fuck you full of his cock, his cum, and he wants to feel you open up for him. “Please, I need your cock inside me.”

“That’s a good girl, you learn so fast,” Eren praises, quickly removing his fingers from your pussy and kneeling closer to you. He pushes your thighs over his, pumping his aching cock a few times before aligning it with your hole. You jump at the contact, mewling when he starts collecting your arousal. “Shhh, relax now. I’ll be gentle.”

But Eren really isn’t all that gentle — that primal, ancient need to claim you as his overtakes his bones, and he bullies his fat cock inside your cunt without further warning. “E-Eren, it hurts,” you yelp, nails digging into his biceps. Fuck, you are so warm. You take his cock so well, pussy throbbing around him. “You’re too b-big…”

“Shhh, baby, you got this.” He kisses your lips softly, pushing the rest of his cock inside. It twitches inside you as you moan out his name, legs trembling on either side of him as he slowly starts to set a pace. “There we go. Fuck. Deep inside this pussy.”

It feels so much better than he imagined — certainly so much better than his hand — and Eren has to use every ounce of self restraint not to cum inside you in seconds. It’s just so perfect: the sound of your wetness echoing around the room, the push and pull of your cunt, just sucking him in, as he fills you up again and again, finding his home inside your body. Eren wishes he could fuck you for the rest of times, until the stars burned out and only the two of you remained in the universe. He wishes for you to take his cum again and again until you’re full and leaking, until you’re crying for him to stop but he just won’t do it. The world could be ending and there was nothing able to tear him away from that sweet, tight cunt of yours.

“Eren, it’s so good,” you moan out, nails marking his arms as his pace increases, turning feverish, ferocious as he pounds your pussy. “Oh! Yeah, please, go h-harder,” you keen.

“Yeah? Fucking take it,” Eren groans. To anyone looking in, he’d look like a complete animal fucking you — fast, rough, possessively — his muscular figure dwarfing yours as he cages you in his arms like you’re his greatest gift. “Look at me. Look at me when I’m inside you.” He grabs you by the jaw, making you stare him in the eyes like the good little fucktoy that you are. Your gaze looks vacant, like you’re drowning in pleasure, and your lips fall open as his cockhead hits the right spot inside you. “Only think of me, you get it?”

You nod, bottom lip quivering as you throw your head back — but still keep eye contact with him. Such a good girl. “Your cock feels s-so good.” You’re trembling and trashing beneath him, both trying to pull away and into the pleasure he’s giving you. God, you’re flawless. Sculpted by the heavens above.

“Yeah? It’s yours,” Eren says, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he leans in, nose brushing yours. “You take it so well, baby, shit. Squeezing me so tight. Bet you want to be filled up so bad.”

Once again, you can only nod. Eren wants — needs — to mark you. He wants to carve his name on your chest, burn it on your limbs, write it all over your body. He wants to keep you inside his place forever (or maybe he could move into yours) so you’ll always stay safe, always stay with him. His heart feels like it’ll burst out of his chest because he feels as if he never loved something as deeply and madly as he loves you right now.

“You’re mine,” he groans against your ear, large hands grabbing your ass harder. Eren wants to crawl inside your skin and live there forever, wants to breathe your air, exist alongside you. His cock throbs inside your wet pussy and you whine, sharp nails digging into his biceps. “Tell me who the fuck you belong to.”

Your bottom lip shivers, but you reply. “Y-You.”

“And what’s my fucking name?” Eren asks, practically growling. He’s a fucking goner now, completely lost in the warm wetness if your hole. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you.”

“E-Eren!” You scream, which turns into an equally loud moan. He hopes the entire party knows you’re his. He’d murder anyone who came between the two of you. “Eren, fuck— I’m so close.”

Your airy, needy voice almost makes him release right away as well. “Cum for my cock,” he orders. “Cum right now. And don’t stop looking at me.”

Like magic, your pussy clamps down around his cock and you cum — hard. Eren succumbs into the constant, high-pitched sobs you’re producing; into the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around his shaft. You’re fucking shaking too — but, just like he asks, you keep looking into his eyes the entire time. It’s even better than he has imagined. It’s made for him.

“That’s right, I didn’t even have to train you,” he praises, leaning closer until his mouth is pressed against the skin of your neck. “Such a tight little pussy. I’m fucking addicted.” He groans, softly nibbling the skin. “It’s fucking mine, you hear me? This pussy’s mine.”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, “I’m all yours.”

“Yes, yes.” Eren quickens his pace even more, reaching one hand towards the headboard to steady himself. The new support proves its worth when he feels himself digging even deeper inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he fucks the high back into you. “Gonna cum inside you, baby. Gonna make you mine.”

You nod, and he can tell you’re out of it. But Eren doesn’t care — all that he can think about is filling you up with so much cum that you’re dripping out, so there’s no way you’re not getting knocked up. He wants to see you pregnant with his children, wants to make you a mommy, wants to suck on your tits until they’re filling his mouth with milk — his milk. You’re all his: body, mind, soul. You two belong together, and not even death can put you two apart. He knows it. He knows fate when he sees it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, take all my c-cum like a good girl,” he wants, hips faltering as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and releases thick waves of cum. You moan at the feeling of his length throbbing inside you, brushing against your cervix, before Eren comes back to his senses and milks a few more thrusts out of you. “That’s it, baby, fuck,” he moans. He’s filling you up with so much cum that it’s almost as if he hasn’t masturbated in months, but he knows his body has been saving up for you. He knows it’s meant to be. “Nice and full for me.”

Eren groans as he leans towards your spent figure, not even bothering to slip out as his cum starts to drip out of your abused hole. He likes this way better: likes staying connected with your body at all times.

“You belong to me.” He sighs, kissing your cheek. He knows that, when you shiver and whimper beneath him, you know that he’s speaking the truth. He knows that you understand that it’s meant to happen, that you belong together. “Forever.”

And yet forever feels like such a small period of time — but he supposes it’s a good place to start. After all, Eren knows so much about you — your favorite bands, your book recommendations, which bottles of lotion in your apartment are needing replacement (some of which he replaced himself, a small gift for you). Eren knows your address by heart. He knows the pills you take, knows which one is birth control. Knows you didn’t notice when he switched it up with vitamins a few weeks ago.

Eren is certain of his love, his endless devotion for you just like he knows that the sun will come up tomorrow. He knows you are meant for him, made from clay and molded into his perfect soulmate, like the universe intended. Eren knows you’ll have to stay with him now, now that he has claimed you for life.

No matter what stands in between, you are made for him.

#eren smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #yandere eren jaeger #dark content

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shinra33459 · 3 years

Text

Legoshi x Human Reader Headcanons

Not much writing here or anywhere with Legoshi and a Human reader. Decided to make my own.

You were the first human student in Cherryton in several years. Your parents had sent you from your home country to Japan to study here because of the school’s impressive test scores and reputation.

The country you came from had a much higher human population than Japan which had a human population of under 10,000.

Until your enrollment in Cherryton, you had never felt as isolated as you currently did. When you were the only human in a 40+ mile radius, that’ll tend to happen.

Because humans are omnivorous, you were put in the carnivore dorms. You felt a little uneasy at times for a few reasons: the first reason was that you stuck out like a sore thumb more often than not (human + foreigner was one helluva recipe for getting weird looks), and secondly, humans aren’t as strong as many carnivores, nor do they have claws or a strong bite force, so if any sort of incident happened, fighting really wasn’t an option.

The curriculum was pretty challenging, private schools like Cherryton strived to get results and without a tough curriculum, those results wouldn’t manifest.

One day you ran into Legoshi, a shy and socially awkward wolf. You two became friends pretty quickly; he was the only one who seemed to remotely care about you, and you were one of the few people who saw him as an individual instead of seeing him as just another carnivore.

With him as your friend, suddenly, this school didn’t seem that bad. You joined the drama club so that you could hang out with him more often.

Over the course of a few months, you began to grow closer to him, eventually wishing that he was more than just your friend.

Legoshi wasn’t oblivious to this, he noticed how your behaviors towards him have changed recently, you seemed more tense, and you fumbled your words more than normal. Not to mention that he could pick up on your body’s pheromones. He felt the same way, but he didn’t want to hurt you.

Eventually, things really started to get to you. The weird looks anytime you walked into a room, the whispers, racist remarks made in passing, the occasional bullying that seemed to go unnoticed or brushed under the rug was more than enough to give you severe depression and a sense of helplessness. You just wanted to drop out and go back home where this wouldn’t even be an issue.

One day after class, you just ran off into the forested area behind the school. You just wanted to be alone and cry. This place was Hell, and you just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear, or better yet, wake up at home away from this nightmare.

Your disappearance didn’t go unnoticed. When Legoshi noticed that you didn’t show up to drama club, he knew that something was really off. Even though you didn’t seem happy at all as of late, you would still go to drama club and hang out with him.

He tracked you through the trees by your scent. He knew that the last thing you needed right now was to be alone with those terrible thoughts.

Hearing your soft whimpering cries, he found you curled up against a tree trunk.

He approached you and shyly asked if you were okay. You told him everything: the bullying, the open displays of racism against you, how you just wanted to go home, and how you felt that nobody at the school liked you or even remotely cared about you.

Hearing how badly you were treated by everybody made him upset. You were here to just get an education like everyone else, and you were nice to almost everyone you met. He honestly expected better from his classmates.

He held you as you unloaded months of bottled-up emotions. You cried into his shoulder as he whispered that everything would be okay.

When you finally regained your composure, Legoshi decided that it was time to admit his feelings toward you. He stumbled through it in his usual shy manner, but he managed to get his point across.

After this, he decided to take you to your favorite local restaurant to cheer you up. Dinner with good company is one way to make someone feel better, right?

Your relationship with him kicked off from there. He became the shoulder you’d cry on and the person you’d rant to whenever you were troubled. You became the person to reassure him whenever he’d be doubtful or when he was afraid of hurting you.

Eventually, your allowed time in the county was soon to expire; your visa only covered your enrollment in Cherryton. You told Legoshi about a year before it expired, and he instantly became worried about losing you.

You two talked about ways that you could stay together. He refused anything less than staying by your side.

The following day, he went to your home country’s embassy and applied to immigrate to your country. He knew that you had to go back home, and he would be damned if you left without him.

About a week before your visa expired, his immigration application was approved, and when it was time to leave, he left on the same plane with you.

Getting used to your country’s culture and way of life was an interesting experience for Legoshi, but for you, he would do anything.

You introduced him to your family a few weeks after you came back. They approved of your relationship; they liked how kind and attentive he was as well as how gentle he was, especially for a carnivore.

Within a year, you and Legoshi had saved enough to put a down payment on your own house. It wasn’t giant, but it wasn’t small either.

Since you two had been dating for about 3 years at this point, and you were financially stable, you and Legoshi decided to get married.

All of his and your family and friends from Japan and Cherryton as well as your friends from home were in attendance.

From here on out, you enjoyed a happy and quiet life with your wolf husband. He was everything you ever could’ve wanted and more.

#beastars x reader #legoshi x reader #legoshi x reader headcanons #legosi x reader #legosi x reader headcanons

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chloelucia13 · 3 years

Text

Nothing Personal: Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader (enemies to lovers)

Prompt: Bucky’s public appearance was lacking in the… well, everything department. And now, with him fully being in the public eye as the new Captain America’s right hand man, that needed to be fixed. That brought you into the equation, someone who seemed to be the direct opposite of the White Wolf. Bubbly, friendly, the perfect PR girlfriend for the grumpy man. Whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Summary: You thought you two were finally good, happy. You knew the rug was still underneath you, though, and you also knew it was only a matter of time until it would be pulled from under you. (word count: 4013)

Warnings: ANGST, cheating, language, maybe a smidge of fluff if you squint, implied smut, this is just a train wreck and I apologize in advance

A/N: When I told y’all that it wasn’t over yet, this is what I meant. But it still isn’t over for this pair, and I promise you’ll be happy by the end of it! As always, my taglists, messages, and inbox are open!

Catch up here!

As the weeks went by, you’d slowly grown more and more comfortable living in the expansive compound. Admittedly, you were a little trepidatious in the beginning to live with a bunch of strangers who had more power in their pinky than you had in your entire body, but after much reassurance from Sam and Wanda, you’d allowed yourself to loosen up and go with the flow.

It was nice finally meeting all of the people you’ve seen in the news for years and years, and it was even nicer having them all take a liking to you almost immediately. Your days were spent talking with Thor about the nine realms or sitting in the lab with Bruce as he worked on whatever task he was immersed in at the moment. At night, you, Sam, Wanda, and sometimes a few others would gather in the large living room and watch movies or binge whatever TV show you all had been hooked on at the time. Every waking hour had something crammed into it, never spending a dull moment in the compound.

It was so busy, in fact, that you barely noticed Bucky’s aversion towards spending time with you.

In the first few days of arriving at the compound, Bucky seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d keep track of where you were at all times, either following behind you or checking up on you over text every five minutes. He helped you rearrange your room like he promised that he would, though it took a while due his incessant need to touch you, to kiss you, to be as close to you as possible. It was nice, though, finally getting the attention you’d been wanting all that time. Not to mention, the sex was amazing.

Those days, you’d fall asleep wrapped in his arms and wake up with his head resting on your chest. You’d share sweet kisses and genuine smiles and hugs that lasted a second too long (but you weren’t complaining), completely engrossed in each other.

But those displays of affection began to grow scarce, dwindling down to a swift peck on the cheek or a squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing altogether. At first, it made remorse pool in your stomach, that feeling only growing when you’d go to bed at night and Bucky would never come and join you. You woke up to an empty bed and a tear-stained pillowcase, the scent of his cologne still embedded in the fibers of the sheets from the nights before.

You pushed the upset down, convincing yourself that he was just adjusting, and instead decided to finally spend time with the numerous other people that populated the compound that actually wanted to spend time with you. Luckily, the distraction worked. Maybe it worked a little too well.

You had bid Wanda goodnight over text a few minutes ago, settling into bed with one of your worn paperbacks and still-damp hair from your shower. With the overhead light off and your bedside lamp clicked on, you slid underneath the covers and the book to the dog-eared page that marked the place you left off.

You were only halfway down the page when there was a knock at your door. You let out a groan and placed the open book face down on the bed before pulling the covers off of your body and walking over to the door. “Wanda, I’m pretty sure I don’t have your mascara,” you spoke as you pulled the door open, one hand rubbing at your eyes. You froze, however, when you saw Bucky standing the hallway outside your half-opened door. “Bucky?”

He was dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of grey cotton sweatpants, his hair a mess of wild curls and his beard grown out a few days past what could be considered a five-o-clock shadow. The smile he gave you was tight and awkward, almost embarrassed. “I, uh, I need a charger. My phone just died,” he explained, staring at the door that obscured half of your body rather than at you.

You nodded, gnawing at your lower lip and reluctantly pulling the door open fully. “Come in, I’ll look for one.” You stepped away, allowing him to trail behind you. You rifled through the top drawer of your dresser, filled with panties and other random items that you couldn’t find another place for. Bucky’s stare was heavy on your back as you searched, making you squirm slightly and tighten your jaw.

Bucky could tell that he was making you uncomfortable, and it made guilt swirl endlessly in his gut. He took in your rigid stance, your inability to look him in the eye, your brows that were knit together in a sort of anguish. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he was making the wrong decision.

It wasn’t that he wanted to push you away. God no, that was the last thing he wanted. After he’d finally felt your skin under his fingertips, felt your lips against his, he was hooked (even more than he already was). But, in his mind, he had to. He had to push you away, keep you as far away from him and the danger that followed him as possible. He’d always felt that way, wanting to keep you at a distance to protect you, but he never realized how important it truly was until he held you close.

It was that first morning you’d spent in the compound, in his arms, to be exact.

A strand of your hair was captured between Bucky’s index and middle fingers, twisting and twirling it around. you were still asleep, your chin propped up atop his head and your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders. He listened to the steady beat of your heart, felt your chest rise and fall with every breath.

He was at peace.

As he laid there, he tried to remember the last time he was this close to someone- physically, that is. Sure, he’d had one night stands and brief hookups that decorated his calendar a few times a month up until three and a half months ago when he was roped into this whole situation. But none of the relationships stuck, the other party leaving as soon as they were appeased, gathering their things and leaving Bucky laying alone in the dingy motel he rented for the night with the heady smell of sweat and arousal permeating the air.

He thought back to the girls he charmed back in the 40′s, the girls who’d sworn to wait until marriage before he came along and changed their mind. In what he could recall, he’d hang around them for a few days before moving on to the next, never staying too long for one reason or another.

He’d never had this. The warmth of skin on skin for hours and hours, the sweet relief that settled deep in his bones and allowed him to feel what true calm was, if only for a moment. He’d never had sweet kisses that had him craving for more, the smell of sweat that brought a smile to his face rather than a regretful grimace.

Bucky had never felt what love was until that moment.

It terrified him.

As Bucky was too distracted by his spiraling thoughts, you awoke underneath him, your breath hitching slightly before a yawn invaded your lungs. His eyes flickered up to your half-lidded ones, lifting his head to take in your sleepy stupor.

“You stayed,” you whispered, reaching up to glide your thumb along the bridge of his nose before tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Of course I did,” he hummed, absentmindedly nuzzling into your touch. He reached over and grabbed your other hand, bringing your palm to his lips and kissing it sweetly.

You let out a soft sigh, pulling your hand away from his lips and placing your own lips on his instead. “What were you thinking about? You seemed pretty deep in thought.”

He shrugged, pecking your lips once more. “Just thinking of you.”

You giggled. “Oh yeah? What about me?”

He bit down on his lower lip, tilting his gaze to watch his fingers trail along your collarbones. “I was trying to remember if you’ve ever told me what you did for work.”

You huffed playfully. “Really, that’s it? That’s not fun.”

“I just wanna know more about you, doll. I need to make up for all of the lost time.”

Your features softened, your beaming smile settling into a gentle quirk of your lips. “I’m a historian. I work at the Center for Brooklyn History on Pierrepoint.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. “Yeah? God, girls like you definitely didn’t work there in my day.”

You scoffed. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious! Everyone there was probably as old as I am now.”

“Well not everyone’s as lucky as you for keeping your good looks.” You craned your neck to kiss his cheek. “Y’know, there’s an exhibit about you and Steve there.”

“Oh, that’s why you work there,” he teased, feigning annoyance.

You smacked his shoulder. “Hey! Not true!”

He let out a laugh, propping himself up on one elbow and cupping your face with the other before kissing you.

“Bucky?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah, doll?” He kept his lips on yours, relishing in the feeling of your soft lips against his chapped ones.

You indulged him for a moment more, letting his lips linger before you pulled away. “Do you think you and I would’ve been together back then?”

His brows furrowed in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Would you have liked me back in your day?” When he was silent for a moment too long, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, that’s a stupid question. I don’t know why I asked-”

“Doll, the girls in the 40′s don’t even come close to you.”

Maybe he was dumb for saying it, but as he thought back to the way your eyes lit up, the way you took his face in your hands and kissed him in a way no one had kissed him before, he knew that he’d never regret it.

In the moment, he felt fine, but when he thought back to the conversation that same day, just hours later, fear had a strong grip on his body.

You weren’t an avenger, you weren’t some superhuman who only knew war and violence. You were a simple girl, a sweet girl, a fucking historian. You had a normal life that he’d never gotten the chance to experience. He wouldn’t take any of that from you, he couldn’t.

“Found it,” you spoke up finally, fishing the cord out of the drawer and holding it out to him.

He turned his had to you, giving you a quick nod as he rose from his seat on your bed and walked over to you. He took the cord in both hands and jumbled it into a messy ball to fit it into his enclosed fist. “Thanks,” he hummed, avoiding your line of sight.

You stood there for a moment, mouth agape as you tried to find the right words to say. “Are you okay?” you whispered finally, hands itching to reach out and touch him.

He huffed, lips pursed and jaw wound tight. “’m fine.” He turned on his heel and began to walk towards the door, his head bowed.

“I miss you.” The words came out before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them.

He froze, and though you couldn’t see it, there was pain in his eyes. He bit down on his lower lip and continued walking, stepping out of your room and closing the door behind him.

***

You were exhausted. Last night’s exchange with Bucky had kept you all night, thinking about what exactly you did wrong to push him away. It was good, you two were good. Maybe you didn’t realize that everything was falling apart, maybe this was all your fault.

No.

No, this isn’t your fault. But why is it so easy to think that it is?

You let out a yawn as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your puffy and sore eyes.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re here!” Thor spoke, rising from his chair to take your hand and lead you over to the table. “And just on time, we were just about to go and check on you.”

You gave him a weak smile before nodding at Sam and Wanda who were also sat at the table. “Sorry guys,” you spoke. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Oh, I bet,” Sam teased, letting out a small chuckle before standing up to pour himself another cup of coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m assuming you and Bucky worked everything out,” Wanda cut in, that same teasing tone in her voice.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I don’t know. I mean, he asked me for a charger last night.”

The three exchanged a smug look, making worry sit in your stomach. “Oh, it’s alright to be shy about it,” Thor consoled, one of his large hands patting your shoulder.

“I really don’t know what you all are talking about.”

Wanda gave you a smile, leaning forward towards you. “You know, you can turn on soundproofing in the rooms.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Did-did I have a nightmare last night? Was I making noise or something?”

“You were making some noises,” Sam jabbed, sitting back down at the table.

“Listen- we’re just glad you and Bucky made up. Just try and keep it down a little next time,” Wanda stated, patting your hand.

Bile rose in your throat, and realization had finally hit you. “I wasn’t with Bucky last night,” you told them, voice quivering just slightly.

All of their faces fell the moment the words left your mouth. Wanda’s hands moved to cover her open mouth, staring at you with pure horror. Sam’s face seemed stoic, but there was a silent rage burning just under the surface.

Thor, however, was the spitting image of pure fury. He rose from his seat with his hands curled into fists and rage radiating off of him. “Stay here,” he instructed.

You rose to your feet, immediately placing a hand on Thor’s shoulder and urging him to stop.

There was a part of you that wanted Bucky to hurt, to physically feel how you felt emotionally. You thought that maybe it would get it through his head that he was torturing you.

The stronger part of you, the part of you that didn’t want to put him through any more pain, won out. You couldn’t stand seeing him hurt, even if he may have deserved it.

“Please don’t,” you told Thor, making him look into your pleading eyes. “I need to talk to him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sam told you. “He hasn't left his room yet.”

You caught on to what he was insinuating, nodding softly. “I can’t do it anymore. I... I have to tell him that.”

You gave the three a weak smile, already feeling tears sting at your eyes as you turned on your heel and walked down the hallway towards Bucky’s room.

God, why did it have to be like this. You gave everything you had into this stupid fucking relationship and all you got back was pain. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth the week of kindness you received. It wasn’t worth the few kisses and hugs and promises of things being better.

You were upset, angry, resentful even. But you weren’t regretful.

You didn't regret any of the love you gave to him. He needed it, he needed to know what love was, what it felt like, even if he didn’t accept it. You just hoped that he felt, if just for a moment, what love truly was.

As you stood in front of his door, you tried to recall what you got out of the relationship. All you could come up with was a faint memory of what his lips felt like against yours.

It wasn’t enough.

You knocked on the door, scrubbing at your cheeks to wipe away any fallen tears. You knew there was no use in it, you knew that as soon as the door opened, as soon as you saw his face, his disheveled hair, the tears would flow.

Bucky was in the exact state you expected him to be in. He looked the same as he did that first morning just a few weeks ago. He had a dazed look in his eyes, lips more swollen than usual, and a smattering of hickeys decorated his bare chest.

You thought you were going to throw up. The room was spinning and you felt yourself swaying slightly. Words filled with vitriol and venom bubbled in your chest, but all you could get out was a weak “God.”

If there was any shame in Bucky at all, you couldn’t sense it. He peeked behind him before stepping out, closing the door behind him until there was just a sliver of his room still showing.

You looked inside.

On the bed laid that same tall blonde from almost a month ago, her bare body covered with Bucky’s blankets and her head resting on Bucky’s pillow.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke, pulling your attention from the woman in his bed.

“What did you do?” you rasped, voice quivering. “What the fuck did you do?”

He shrugged, letting out a sigh before fully closing the door. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, so you just decided that sleeping with that fucking woman from that party was a good cure for your insomnia?”

His brows furrowed. “Listen, don’t blame this on her-”

“Blame this on her?!” you nearly shrieked, absolutely in shock. The tears that stung your eyes had faded for the moment, and the only thing you felt now was rage. “James, I don’t know if you know this, but this isn’t the fucking 40′s, we don't blame women for a man’s mistake!” His mouth opened to defend himself, but you held a hand up. “What did you tell her? That we broke up? Or-Or that everything between us was actually fake?”

“Because it was!” Bucky snapped back, his voice echoing through the hallways, his words echoing in the hollow space in your chest. “It was all fucking fake!”

You paused, the anger on your face falling and morphing into pure hurt. “Right,” you whispered. “It was all fake.” You stepped back, eyes cast downward towards the ground. “So I’m guessing that everything you told me was fake too? About how you’d never hurt me again, how you feel horrible for everything you’ve done to me? All of the hugs and kisses and sex and... and the love. It was all fake.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-” Bucky began to backpedal, regret lacing his voice.

“Shut the fuck up.” Your jaw was tight, eyes cold and distant. “I’m gonna call Jess, tell her that I can’t do this anymore. I’ll have her rip up the contract or whatever. You’re free now.”

Bucky’s eyes, which were glued on the ground like a kicked puppy, shot back up to you, filled with fear. “No, come on, we can fix this.”

“No we can’t, James. I can’t.” you sniffled. “Delete my number. Don’t text me or call me. I don’t want to see your fucking face or hear your voice again. I’m done.” You avoided his gaze as you turned on your heel, stepping away.

“You have a life anyway, you’ll be fine,” Bucky spat to your back, masking his hurt.

“I don’t actually.” You stopped, turning to face him one last time. “I don’t have a home anymore. I don’t have a fucking job. I have nothing. I have to start all over-”

“But I thought-that job at the museum-”

“they fired me like two weeks into this whole relationship! I was ‘bad publicity’ apparently. The world hated me, but I didn’t care. I gave everything up for you, and you gave me nothing but pain.”

“I never asked you to do that.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You don’t have to ask people to things for you, especially when they love you the way I did.”

His shoulders slumped, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile. “You were right, James. We didn’t last the six months.” In an act of finality, you pulled your phone from your pocket and tossed it over to him, landing at his feet. “I hope I never see you again. You’ve broken me. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Bucky collapsed to his knees as you walked away, picking up your phone and staring down at your home screen, a photo in the newspaper of you and Bucky walking hand in hand on the sidewalk, beaming. Underneath it, your handwriting read “It’s worth it.”

He let out a sob.

***

Sam and Wanda assisted you in packing everything up as quickly as possible, and Sam gave you the keys to his truck once everything was loaded into the bed of it. After watching you drive away, that same anger that the pair had pushed down bubbled back up to the surface, both of them stomping back up to Bucky’s room.

“What the fuck did you do?” Sam roared, yanking the door to Bucky’s room open.

Bucky sat immobile on his bare mattress, all of his bedsheets stripped and laying on the floor. In his hands was your phone, his eyes trained on the screen as he stared at the photo for god knows how long. Even Sam’s entrance didn’t pull him from his trance, still staring at your sweet smile that he knew he didn’t deserve to see.

“I don't know,” Bucky whispered, voice hoarse.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what you did,” Sam snapped, looking back at Wanda who stood in the doorway, her eyes glowing a bright red. “You ruined her. You tore her to pieces and then built her back up only to knock her down again.” Sam stood right in front of Bucky. “You know, that was the first time I’ve seen her cry in years?”

“She loved you,” Wanda spat, lips pursed. “She thought she was stupid for loving you that much, but you’re the stupid one. You lost her.”

Bucky nodded. “I lost her,” he parroted. “I lost her.”

“She gave you her phone?” Sam spoke, staring down at the device in Bucky’s hands.

“She didn’t want me to contact her.” Bucky’s voice was flat, monotone. He was in a daze, whether that was due to the shock or his own shame, he didn’t know. “She said I broke her.”

“Fuck, you did more than that.” He took the phone from Bucky’s hands, prompting the man to rise to his feet in an attempt to scramble for the phone back. “What is it with you and the phone, man?”

“That’s the only picture I have of her.” Bucky’s voice cracked as he stared at the device in Sam’s hands, the screen glowing bright and displaying the screensaver.

Sam looked down at it, at your pretty smile. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to see her smile.”

Bucky nodded, bowing his head. “I know.”

Bucky wanted to scream when Sam tucked the phone away into his pocket, effectively removing the last bit of you Bucky had. He deserved it.

Wanda tossed a small bundle of clothes onto Bucky’s bed. “Here’s all of your shit,” she huffed. “She even washed it all for you.”

With that, Sam and Wanda left, abandoning Bucky to deal with the mess he made.

He thought about smelling the shirts, hoping that a hint of your scent would still linger on them, but he couldn’t bring himself to grab them. Instead, his body moved on autopilot as he walked to where your room once was, stepping through the open door and sitting down on the carpet.

He remembered every night from the past few weeks, sitting outside of your door around midnight and being too scared to knock on it. He remembered hearing your cries, he felt the ache in his chest.

He remembered the first night he laid in your arms, your fingers curled in his hair and his nose pressed directly against your sweat-dampened skin. He can still smell you now, that mix of pure sunshine and morning dew. It made him intoxicated, he was addicted.

He laid down on the carpet, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep with the lullaby of your voice echoing in his mind.

---

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