#Thank you for letting me know man I would have died in the darkness without you

[dancing-with-death-at-prom]

Oh my God guys WHY I FIND ONLY NOW THAT I CAN HAVE KIDS WITH ALEX AGEHDUABSGE7FHYED

Oh my fucking god holy shit oh god oh man i've been waiting for this since the pregnancy was added holy shit goddamn FUCK YEAH MAN we are so winning right now

REMEMBER WHEN THIS FUCKER WAS ONLY A SIMPLE NPC????? Gosh. I love Alex so much guys i cant properly express myself holy moly

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Omg I love your benjicot Blackwood fics can you do a x betrothed reader soft fluff please

There wasn’t many things in life that had brought you happiness, not since you became of an age where it was deemed necessary by your father to start looking for suitable suitors, for you were quick to catch on that life wasn’t fair especially towards the good and honest people of the realm.

They often died too soon, leaving for the rest of the realm to be poisoned and left in ruin by the selfish agendas of the richer and more powerful great houses.

So when you were made aware of your fathers plans, not bothering to ask for your permission in the matter, your initial response was to scream at the old fool of the unfairness of it all but instead you chose to ran for the Weirwoods as though that was going to change anything.

That day whilst terrible as it was, was also the day that you met Benjicot Blackwood or Benji as you liked to call him nowadays.

‘What’s wrong.’ He had asked, kneeling in front of you with a worried look.

‘I’m to be engaged.’ You told the boy with the short dark hair and stormy kind eyes.

‘Do you know to whom?’ He said as he tried his best to figure out what he could do to help, he wasn’t use to this whole comfort thing, but he was more then willing to try and to get use to comforting others for similar circumstances in the future.

You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast so that he wouldn’t see your tear stained face. ‘It is undecided for now but I know in my bones that it’ll be to a gluttonous lord of some unknown house with shady origins.’

‘Why not get engaged to me then?’ Benjicot then said out of the blue.

‘What?’ You looked up at him, unsure you had heard him right the first time.

‘Get engaged to me and you’ll never have to worry about being some shifty lords bed warmer.’ Ben said in a nonchalant mannor, which was soon betrayed by the cherry red blossoming upon his cheeks. ‘We don’t have to be in love it’s just-‘ he was abruptly cut off when you flung yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you whispered a million thanks into his shoulder, all the while Benjicot was stiff and awkward as a board before he finally relaxed and rubbed your back.

‘It’s fine, no need to thank me.’ He utters as later that same afternoon the news of your betrothal to Lord Benjicot Blackwood had been finalised, bring about the end before it had even began, and needless to say for the first time you had felt a twinge of happiness for your future.

Now as you stood beneath the very same Weirwood tree you did that fateful day, you sat beneath it with a smile upon your face and peace within your heart. You didn’t think you’d fall in love with Benjicot during your betrothal but you did and you did hard, the man was nothing short of perfect in every way shape and form, you didn’t expect yourself to fall in love with his dark hair, his stormy but kind eyes nor his chapped but kissable lips that withheld the most heavenly laughter you’ve ever heard.

He has made your heart full of happiness and joy that you didn’t know existed in Westeros, he treated you with such kindness, respect and loyalty that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of the lucky few to have such a devoted man such as Benjicot. You never wanted to know a reality where you weren’t betrothed to him for every man would fail in comparison, regardless of whether they came from a greater house, for all you ever wanted was a man who was undyingly faithful and wouldn’t dare let his eyes wander and you found that man in Benjicot Blackwood; and ever since then you have been falling for him every single second of every single day.

You had found your soulmate that day without even knowing it as you chuckled to yourself just as a body sat closely beside you, but instead of moving away from it you leaned into it, already familiar with the bodily warmth of your dearly beloved Benji as he pressed a sweet to to the top of your head.

‘You’re smiling today my beloved, is there reason to that or is it just me.’ He joked as you playfully scoffed.

‘I’m merely reminiscing the time we first met, right here beneath the Weirwood tree.’ You told him as you craned your head to look up at the leaves that hung above you both.

‘Still glad you’re not married off to some gluttonous lord from an unknown house with shady origins?’ Benjicot asked as he too looked up at the ruby leaves of the Weirwood, not wanting to admit that after all this time you still managed to make him nervous but in the best ways possible. Your smile widened at your own words being thrown back at you as you looked over at Benjicot and admired his side profile with adoring eyes.

‘I am because my betrothed is the sweetest man the realm has ever seen.’ You told him as you kissed his cheek softly before resting your head on his shoulder. ‘You saved me that day Benji and I am forever grateful.’

‘What did I tell you way back then? It’s nothing that you should thank me for.’ Benjicot said as he looked at you with a soft expression. ‘I’m just glad that I could offer you an alternative solution.’

You looked at him as found yourself smiling as he rested his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as he relaxed again you. ‘You also once told me that we didn’t have to fall in love during our betrothal too.’ You replied as you heard him chuckle lowly, brushing his nose over yours. ‘We did a pretty shit job of that didn’t we?’ Benjicot asked as you giggled and the young lord swore he could hear the heavens sing, for he had fallen first but saw later on that you had fallen just as hard for him in return, which he thought was solely because he had gotten you out of a predicament you didn’t want to be in.

You would later prove to him that that wasn’t the case at all and that you feelings for him were genuine and true as your heart that beats solely for him.

‘One could assume so, yes.’ You replied, kissing him on the forehead before letting your heads rest against one another once more. ‘But I don’t regret a single thing, word or moment that we have shared since for I love you far too much to depart from your side.’ You added as you moved yourself as close to him as you could, wanting nothing more then to be in his arms and listen to the sounds of his strong heart against your ear.

Benjicot didn’t put up a fight as he was quick to bring you into his strong embrace, holding you against his chest as he back remained supported by the trunk of the Weirwood tree, your head pressed to his heart as it sang its song just for you. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you cry under this very Weirwood.’ Benjicot admitted. ‘I looked at you and thought how beautiful you looked even when you were crying, which hurt my heart to witness. I want you happy and in that moment I wanted to be the reason you were happy and since then I have only fallen further each and every day, aching to one day call you what I’ve always wanted to call you.’

‘And what’s that.’ You murmured against his chest, his warmth providing you too much comfort that you were on the periapsis of falling asleep.

‘Lady Blackwood.’ Benjicot said as he pressed a kiss to your head, finding the same level of comfort you had as he too was fighting his hardest to keep his eyes open to gaze upon you longer, but alas his eyes were already closed and he smile widened as he thanked the gods for weaving your strand of fate with his own that fateful day under the Weirwood tree.

[yestrday]

— BLUSH BLUSH ! anemo | hydro | geo | pyro

⤷ yan! hybrid! zhongli, itto, gorou, albedo

summary ! these land-dwelling hybrids have devotion as sturdy as stone and they’re ready to prove it anytime! if you’re feeling shackled by your father’s chain, do not worry, for you have your trusty hybrids to keep you company. should you have any concerns, just come to them anytime. after all, you are all bound by a contract that will never expire~

content ! possessive behavior; obsessive behavior; yandere behavior; mentions of violence; mentions of biting you; mentions of blood; mentions of drugs; sadism; thoughts of corruption

notes ! woah!!!! i have posted an actual full update!!! woah!!! applaud please!

in the neighboring country of your very own, legends say that a great dragon protected their lands in a time of tumultuous peril. were it not for the great dragon general and his army of mythical beasts, the people of that land would have succumbed to war and famine. he built the broken country from the ground back up, and introduced many kinds of craft to help them prosper. the land and its people did indeed flourish,  thanks to the wisdom of the dragon. but wise as he is, he ultimately decided that the humans must learn to rely on themselves, and so he and his army of beasts hid away, till they faded into nothing more but myths and stories…

you stare blankly at the gentleman who is calmly sipping his tea while he tells you this story, and venti's squawking laughter as he dies in the background. having let go of his human form, he sits comfortably with his scaled tail and his golden antlers out, and his black and gold hands gingerly cup the ceramic teacup. aether is beside you giving the man a deadpan stare. all the surrounding hybrids, save for a few clueless ones, give him the side eye. yeah, ZHONGLI is not fooling anybody.

unlike your other hybrids, it was you who came to him. your father had summoned you, much to the anger of your caring hybrids, and your servants had you scrubbed with scented soaps and dressed you in elegant pieces. aether accompanies you all the way to your company's building and soothes your worries away as you ride the elevator going up. the man accompanying you shoots a condescending gaze— the forgotten heir and their hybrid pet— and backing down after receiving aether’s dark glare. when you step into his office, you’re greeted by the apathetic look on your father’s face… and the handsome man beside him.

“this is ZHONGLI,” your father tells you, sounding bored as he resumes to reading his documents. “i heard that you’ve amassed yourself a following of hybrids of some sort.” you tense when you hear that, knowing the positions hybrids hold in this world. “what you do there is of no concern to me. ZHONGLI is a good and efficient secretary– he can help you control those beasts of yours. after all, i cannot risk having so many sources of harm around my child without someone to properly control them.” aether snarls under his breath at the mere implication of them hurting you, but you squeeze his hand. and so off you leave to your isolated villa, your back turning on your neglectful father once more.

ZHONGLI quickly proves himself to be quite the skilled hybrid. he can easily identify from just a glance on what kind of animal they are, as well as the specifications of their behavior, preferred environment, diet, and whatnot. he also helps you sort through your treasures— the jewels and antiques you’ve accumulated over time and tell you stories of these. he entertains you with new knowledge, helping you have a good grasp on the world beyond these walls.

he’s also very, very gentle with you. for the kindness you’ve shown these hybrids, you’ve gained a special place in ZHONGLI’s heart. oftentimes, he will pat your hair down as he recounts an old eastern fable, and straightens out any wrinkles in your shirt when he sees them. it pleases him to know that you are nothing like your father, but he knows that you’re still his blood-related child. if you had to go through any of the trials that your father had, ZHONGLI fears that you may grow just as cold-hearted as he is. so he makes sure to take the utmost care of you, so that you’ll never have to change from your kind and soft self.

ZHONGLI quickly becomes a trustworthy pillar that everyone can rely on. the younger hybrids tend to come to him for advice, and he sometimes even replaces aether as a substitute butler. but when it comes to fights, he only watches in amusement and sips on his tea. youngsters should let out some steam once in a while, he reasons. oh, and aether absolutely forbids him from touching the mora. that’s one thing no one ever trusts him with.

ZHONGLI’s pride and ego as a dragon hybrid has long dissipated since the eras have changed, but even so, it has always irritated him that your father tricked him into a contract. sometimes, when he looks at you, a dark urge dwells in the dark recesses of his mind. it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt ever since he was a young bloodthirsty general— that bloodlust and sadism. he knows you’re not your father… but what he does know is that your father has a great amount of affection he refuses to show to you. so what would happen if ZHONGLI were to… say, ruin you? to push you past your breaking point and present it to your father? 

he knows it’s not right to think such things of you, but you can’t blame him. ZHONGLI is sure you’d understand, like how you understand your every hybrid’s troubles. he’s done so much for you, after all. surely you’ll allow him to take a bite of you, and maybe more. you are a treasure, hidden away where no one can hear you scream. it doesn’t help that ZHONGLI is a dragon, heralded by legends as the mightiest of them all, and he wants to possess every single inch of you until you’re not yourself anymore.

he loves you, and he isn’t afraid to tell you. you are kind, and you are everything your father isn’t. his heart swells when you look at him and his smile is unstoppable when you excitedly chatter on about trivial matters. he wants to give you everything and more but it is in his blood to be selfish, and there’s nothing he wants more than to ruin you and your father too.

RELATIONSHIPS: zhongli and venti often get into passive-aggressive fights by covering up their insults with very fake compliments. poor xiao and aether often find themselves in the middle of this verbal war, but the two old men actually get along more than they’re willing to admit.

ITTO makes himself known by destroying a wall and a room. it was a nice and peaceful day, enjoying a cup of tea before another session of studying with zhongli. but soon enough, the entire manor shakes as a loud explosion comes from one of the outermost rooms, and everyone rushes to see what happened. in the middle of all the rubble and mess is a snorting bull, a stab wound in his side. when it looks up at you, it's eyes grow wide.

everyone covers your eyes when the bull morphs and reveals a naked muscular man with the stupidest grin ever. "hello, little one!" his voice nearly booms, but it stills sound faint as blood dribbles from his mouth. "uh, haha, i know it's awkward to ask this of ya since we just met, but ya look like the master of this house. care to help me out here?"

ITTO apparently has gotten himself injured thanks to a gang war. according to his story, his gang pissed off some of the local ones when they barged into their territory ("anywhere's arataki itto's territory!" he corrects zhongli, but is promptly ignored) and he split up from his gang while running away ("strategic retreat!"). the adrenaline must've gotten to him, because he was a long way off from where he originally came from.

ITTO is loud and childish, but you've never had a normal childhood, so his presence is greatly appreciated. he drags you into his silly games— catching beetles with you to raise them into fierce fighters, shouting out cringey finishing moves during your card games— it’s always a fun time whenever he’s around, and he even manages to wrangle other hybrids into playing with him. a lot of people are exasperated by him, but they do like how friendly and stupid he is, so he’s one of the more popular hybrids in town.

stupid ITTO knows how strong he is, but that doesn’t mean he stops to think before pulling you into one of his bone-crushing hugs. gorou often yelps and tries to pull him off, nagging the laughing bull about his strength and carelessness. when he does loosen his grip on you, he does make for a great cuddle buddy— a set of firm abs behind you, muscled biceps wrapped protectively around your hips, and his head atop yours. sometimes you’ll fall asleep in his arms, much to everyone’s dismay, because then itto would fall asleep with you and everyone knows he has a grip like death.

ITTO’s foolish, but he’s kind and surprisingly wise at times. he’s wise enough to know the dark leer in his fellow hybrids’ eyes, and strong enough to be able to whisk you away from potential danger without any consequences. he tends to move you away whenever territorial conflicts arise between the hybrids, distracting you with a game or two. itto knows all too well how hybrids are treated in this world… he doesn’t want you being scared of them either.

that’s why he doesn’t warn you about the dangers of the other hybrids either. one, because he doesn’t want to fill your head with scary thoughts about them and two, well, he becomes a hypocrite. he may try protecting you, but even that’s hard enough for him. when you smile at him so trustingly, it just breaks his heart in two… and stirs up something dark and possessive within his heart. 

ITTO wants to cradle you gently, continue to play these silly games with you and have fun with the others for your entire life, but sometimes, you make it hard for him to be a nice man. he’s a big, big man— so big, in fact, that you won’t be able to do anything when he wraps that meaty hand of his around your head and muffles your screams. once he pins you to the floor and starts nibbling at your soft flesh, you’ll be helpless and weak, and it’ll only take him a second before he draws blood. he hates himself for wanting to violate you like that, but the thought makes him salivate.

you don’t know the real world like ITTO and the others does, and he wishes to keep it that way. concepts like innocence and pure are too philosophical for the bull hybrid’s taste, but he wishes to keep you safe. he’s been ridiculed, scorned, and cursed at for simply existing. part of him knows its paranoia, part of him believes it, and a small part of him wishes that you continue to hide in the haven you’ve made for yourself.

RELATIONSHIPS: itto’s quite friendly with the entire inazuman group, ready to loop them in for some fun whether they like it or not. due to his outgoing nature, he’s also made friends with the others as well, especially xiao, and seems to be oblivious to his mythical status with his laments about his poor, small figure. aether keeps a tired yet amused smile at his tirades, but makes sure to keep you away from him to avoid his bad influence.

GOROU joins your family after being wrangled by the neck by itto, who had loudly proclaimed that he had found dinner. when he bursts in the front doors, there’s a yipping dog digging its canines into his hand. someone briefly mentions that bulls are supposed to be herbivores, but all you can think about how cute the puppy is. slowly creeping to the shiba inu, you gently stretch out a hand and start petting its soft fur. the small thing flicks its eyes to you and bares its teeth to growl, but a particularly good scratch has it whimpering timidly.

GOROU just might be the only sane one from the inazuman hybrids, minus thoma, who’s more or less subservient to you and ayato. he’s usually frantically running back and forth keeping an eye on itto (“humans are not to be held like that!”) and heizou (“do not try to eat kazuha again!”). when he’s not trying to keep it all together, he likes training in the open field out back, and his night time routines are often spent with other fluffy tail boys, who sit in a circle to groom each others tails. you’re part of this too, often finding yourself groomed by the others too. 

he’s a respected warrior, and he likes to help out around the house too. GOROU is fairly amiable and gullible, so he often plays the straight man of many pranks. he’s strict with himself and with others, but not a lot of people take him seriously, especially with ears and tail as fluffy as that. it’s quite troubling for him, and he doesn’t appreciate it when people stroke his ears out of the blue or ruffle his preciously groomed tail.

although young, he likes to present himself as respectable and responsible. after all, he wants you to trust him, to come to him whenever you need help! but it doesn’t help that whenever GOROU is engaged in a duel, his more base instincts come out and the heat of the fight rushes in his head. he’s growling and scratching the floor, he shoots with a precise aim but doesn’t neglect the use of all four limbs. you find it endearing how embarrassed he becomes when he’s finally relaxed after the duel and you of all people had to see him like that. while you coo and comfort him about how cool he was, all the other hybrids exchange  a look— that wasn’t about being cool, it was a show of primal instincts.

GOROU values your approval and affection more than anything in this world. it’s why he works so tirelessly to become a man you can rely on. he doesn’t allow himself to be clingy, but with some encouragement, he’ll immediately melt in your touch and he won’t let go. he sees you like a being near to divinity– if not divinity itself. your touch cleanses him, your voice soothes him, and should you give him a command, he’ll carry it out with perfect execution. he’s been demeaned as a brainless dog by society, an animal instead of an equal, but for you, he’ll proudly carry that title with blood on its name.

if you’re looking to gain more than what you currently have, GOROU is the perfect lackey to have. it’s not to say that all your dear hybrids are more than happy to follow your pursuit of greatness, but they all have their underlying agendas when it comes to you. meanwhile, GOROU’s wants and needs are all based on yours. he doesn’t need to have any other agendas— all he wants is for you to hold him for the night, bloody mess and all.

RELATIONSHIPS: gorou is usually yelling and running after itto, mostly failing to get him wrangled and disciplined. he’s only ever relaxed around kazuha and aether, who both patiently listen to his grumbles and complaints. the three of them are part of the unofficial tail society of the manor, who along with the other fluffy tail-havers like to sit in a circle and groom each other’s tails.

there was once a time when common household products mysteriously disappeared from your cabinets. it whipped the servants into quite a fright, and rumors of a ghost haunting the halls were popular for a time. it was only when a servant found a small cavern in the side of the hill’s landscape, where the said products were organized meticulously, did they find the culprit— a handsome boy sporting feline eyes and a pair of fluffy ears and tail to boot. when ALBEDO meets your eyes, the wildcat hybrid smiles in a way that would make any romantic’s heart flutter.

“apologies for the inconvenience i may have brought you,” he says in a voice like a fairytale prince’s. “i should have introduced myself sooner instead of stealing from your cabinets. but as you can see,” he poi kntedly stares at the dozen wary eyes behind your back. “... i may have gotten a bit shy in the presence of such… intimidating companions.” 

ALBEDO is almost immediately absolved of all sin. who can get mad at such a pretty face? even your head maid who had been angrily fuming and ranting these past weeks immediately quickly turned all sparkly-eyed and accommodating as soon as albedo sent a charming smile her way. he becomes a quick favorite among the staff, because oh, he’s so nice to talk to! all these scary hybrids are either brooding or scheming or scarily strong and here’s this angel from above come to give them a sense of normality! he’s not nicknamed prince for nothing!

you always feel at ease around ALBEDO, and you like how gentle he is with you. his words are soft-spoken and carefully chosen, and he listens to your insecurities with a patient ear. he shares with you advice and his own perspective of things (albeit a bit flat on the social aspects), and he draws you little doodles to cheer you up. you both have a little game that you play where he draws on his sketchpad and you try to guess what it is before he finishes it. he always finds a way to trick you though, so you never guess correctly. he laughs quietly when you declare that one day you’ll figure it out, and pout when he ruffles your hair like a big brother.

ALBEDO likes how… warm you feel next to him. a favorite past time of his is accompanying you on your strolls and observe the wildlife with you. his hands squeeze yours as you point out the funny cloud in the sky or when you ask about a specific type of flora. if you’re sleepy, you often nap on his lap under the shade of a tree. he can feel his heartbeat racing as his fingers stroke your chin and trace your eyelids, and his big fluffy tail wraps your torso protectively. all he hears is the skritches of his pencil against paper and your faint snoring.

ALBEDO is… passive. strangely so, amidst a harem of dangerous hybrids. he makes it a point to never admit his feelings out loud. to verbalize such fantasies about you, the one who keeps him sheltered, it feels disrespectful to you. you’re too naive of the outside world, too innocent of the darker recesses of the human, er, hybrid mind. he wants to protect this innocence, because there’s too much darkness already in the world.

he hides away in his study, pencil against paper scratching away as his eyes zero in this unfinished portrait. he plans to make a portrait of your likeness, but none of these copies can compare to the real deal. an eye is too off, the nose too thin, the smile not pretty enough. he doodles some little yous on the corner of his scrapped portraits… and blushes furiously. he tears up the indecency and throws them on the fire.

is it so terrible to want to play with you a little? he may put on the big brother act now, but that’s mostly because he likes seeing the expressions you make whenever he praises you. your expressions are so interesting, despite them being like any other human’s. exactly what makes him so drawn to you? it’s a research topic he must explore one day. but for now, ALBEDO is content to play house with you for a little while, and shut away his more sexual instincts for a little while longer. there’d be plenty of time to experiment on you later, once he’s reached his limits. for now, he’ll let the potion simmer for a little while longer ♡

RELATIONSHIPS: albedo often shuts himself away from everyone and stay inside his lil old lab conducting experiments and the like, but once in a while there are people who drag him out. he often experiments on a disgruntled aether, who he bribes with mora. cyno thinks of him as a like-minded friend, but tighnari thinks that the way albedo stares at the jackal is much like a scientist staring at microbes under a glass.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 + Konig and Alejandro.

Requesting how they would react to reader having a near death experience and are afraid of losing them. Fluff at the end. Please and thank you ☺️

Of course, thanks for the request! Hope this is what you were looking for!

141 + König & Alejandro Reacting To Reader Nearly Dying

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, mentions of injury, heavy angst- ends in fluff

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

Simon Ghost Riley-

It happened so quickly that Simon barely had time to register it.

The enemy had the gun pointed at him, and Simon was prepared to take it. He knew there was no escape from it. But then, you. You and your selfless heart just had to step in.

At the last second, you were nothing but a blur in his field of vision as you jumped in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him.

He watched as you dropped to the floor, and his entire world stopped in that moment. In his blind rage, he took down the man who shot you without a second thought, before regaining his senses.

"I need a med evac, NOW! Y/N's been shot." Simon cried out in a panic, rushing to your side. "Hey, hey, keep your eyes open, okay? Don't you dare fuckin' close them."

"I love you, Si." You said, gripping his arm with as much strength as your weakening form could muster. "I'm sorry."

"Don't talk like that, I won't have it. Keep your eyes open, kid." He gave your cheek a light slap as he pressed his hand on the wound on your abdomen. "Don't leave me, please."

You felt yourself slipping away, Simon's pleas being the last thing you heard before darkness consumed you.

~

Your eyes blinked open as a blinding white light blurred your vision. It took you a moment to realize your surroundings, as you looked over to the person whose hand was tucked firmly in yours. "Simon?"

"Sweetheart?" Simon voice was timid, and you knew him well enough to know that he had been crying. "You're awake."

"Hey." You croaked as you tried to sit up.

"No, no, don't move. I'll get you some water." He reached over to the bedside table and helped you gulp some of the ice water. He watched as you shakily set the glass down next to you, his eyes softening as he saw how much you struggled with such a simple gesture.

"You could have died Y/N, what were you thinking?" Simon asked, not taking his eyes off you. "That bullet was meant for me."

"And I couldn't sit by and watch you die, Simon. My body reacted before my brain did. It was just instinct. And I'd do it again if it meant you being alive." Your tone took Simon off guard, his protective walls shattering at your words.

"I can't live without you. I thought you were gone." His voice was barely audible, and you could hear the deep sadness in it.

"I'm here, Simon. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him closer to you, forcing him to lay his head on his chest.

"Marry me."

"What?" You asked, not sure if you heard him correctly.

"Marry me." Simon repeated, his eyes still staring deeply into yours. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But you said that-"

"I don't care what I said before. Nearly losing you made me realize that I want to spend every waking second with you for the rest of my life. So please, marry me. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow and make it official."

You let out a small sob as you absorbed his words. "Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you."

Simon smashed his lips to yours, holding you impossibly close as he deepened the kiss. "I love you, so much."

"I love you too, always."

John Price-

"When we are done with this God forsaken mission, I'm taking you to a nice dinner, got that?" John asked, a hint of a smile lining his lips.

"I certainly won't say no to that. I could use a night out with you." You gave your husband a warm smile before turning the corner in the building the two of you were clearing. "Last room, we should be done in just a minute."

John turned his gaze back to you, and his blood ran cold as he saw your foot land on trip wire. "Y/N, WAIT!"

But it was too late. You triggered the bomb set by the trip wire, and you and Pricem were sent flying as the explosion rang out through the building.

It took a moment for John to regain his senses, the impact of the explosion knocking the wind out of him.

John's ears were ringing as he looked for you amongst the debris. "Babe? Where are you!?"

He wiped some of the dust from his eyes and found you lying on the floor across the room, pieces of wood covering the lower half of your body.

He slid over to you, throwing the debris off of you in a panic. "Hey, hey, hey. You better be okay. I can't do this without you, I can't."

His heart was practically beating out of his chest as his eyes raked up and down your figure. You were covered in blood and bruises, and your heartbeat was faint.

He put his arm underneath your limp body and lifted you, holding you close to him chest. "I'm not going to let you die."

~

Sounds of distant talking, and machines beeping drew you from your deep slumber. Your eyes blinked open, as a cough racked through your chest.

"Babe!" John cried out, cutting his conversation with Laswell short. "You're okay."

He hurried over to you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. "What happened?"

"We can talk about that later. How are you feeling?" John asked, kneeling next to the bed, grasping your hand firmly in his.

"Like hell, but I'll be okay." You gave him a reassuring smile as you squeezed his hand. Your brows furrowed slightly as you took in his bruised face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better now that you're awake. Gave me quite a scare, sweetheart." He said as he pressed a kiss to your hand.

"Well, I should work on getting better quickly. If I remember correctly, you owe me a date, captian."

"That I do, I'm going to make it a date you'll never forget."

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You and Kyle were doing one of your weekly walks on one of the trails near your home.

It was a habit the two of you had formed, and it was a way for you both to unwind from the stresses of your lives.

It was early on a late winter morning, and you were just making your way over a small wooden bridge that rested above a small river. Kyle looked over at you and chuckled as he watched you shiver slightly.

"Should've taken a coat, kid. I told you it was cold."

"I'm no weakling. Besides, we are almost home anyway, I'll be fine." You giggled, bumping into him as the two of you walked.

He gave you the slightest of nudges, as the two of you laughed. At that same moment, you were walking over a small slick puddle on the bridge, causing you to lose your footing.

It happened in the blink of an eye, your valance being thrown off, sending you toppling over the side of the small bridge, into the freezing water below.

Kyle's entire world froze, and sheer panic set in. He watched as your frame disappeared into the water, and he immediately bolted across the bridge, to get to the ground below.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He screamed, his eyes frantically searching for you.

He saw your head emerge from the water, gasping for air as you struggled to tread above the surface. Without hesitation, he tore off his coat and jumped into the freezing water, swimming after you.

~

Dragging you to the surface, he grabbed his coat off the ground and wrapped it around your frame, holding you tightly to him, rubbing the length of your arms vigorously. "Are you okay?"

You gave a nod, as a chill ran through your body. "Thank you, for saving me. I couldn't feel my body."

"I will always, always save you. No matter the cost." He pressed a warm kiss to your temple, shivering slightly as he began to realize just how cold it was. "You are my everything, Y/N. I'm so sorry, this was my fault."

"I should've watched where I was going, it's okay. I'm okay." You said it more to yourself than to Kyle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

"Let's get going, I'll draw a hot bath for us when we get back. I think we both at a minimum are going to catch a cold from this." Kyle chuckled, helping you to your feet.

"Maybe this'll teach me to wear a coat next time."

König-

"I'm right behind you, Kö, go!" You called out, running as fast as your legs could carry you.

The building was crumbling around you and the team as you all struggled to make your way outside to safety.

You were nearly out of the building when you tripped on a loose piece of concrete, sending you toppling to the floor. "KÖNIG!"

But it was too late, König was already out in the open before he heard you, and the building finally crumbled to the ground before he registered your cry for help.

"MAUS!" König cried out, watching as the dust settled from the crumbled building. His legs moved before his brain could catch up as he darted toward the rubble.

"König, wait! You're going to get yourself killed!" Price called out, trying to stop the Austrian from running to you.

"I can't leave them!" König slid to his knees and began to dig away at the rubble bit by bit. "I can't leave them."

König felt tears pooling in his eyes, the thought of losing you tearing at his heart in a way that made it nearly hard for him to breathe. "They're my everything."

Price and the others knew that fighting him was hopeless and ran to his aid. They spent the better part of 20 minutes throwing rubble to the side, and were just about to give up when they heard a faint cry from underneath them.

"Help! I'm in here!" You choked out, your throat filling with dust from each breath you took. "Please."

König was sent into a frenzy at your cries for help and doubled his efforts to remove the rocks. "Maus, I'm here! Hold on, I'm here!"

With one final rock thrown to the side, your beaten and battered frame came into his line of sight, and he felt the weight on his shoulders fall off.

You were covered in debris and blood, but still had that beautiful smile on your face. "König."

He reached his hands down and pulled you up to him in a bone crushing hug. "I'm here, Maus. I'll never leave you again."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny were running from an onslaught of enemies making their way to your location. You were less than half a mile from exfil, and the two of you were running faster than you ever have in your lives.

Johnny heard gunshots from behind him, and heard a sharp intake of breath come from you.

"Babe, come on, we've got to move!" Johnny called out, looking behind him to make sure you were following. What he saw, had his entire world shifting on its axis.

You looked up at him, through bleary eyes, as your hand clutched at the growing blood splotch on your stomach. "Johnny."

"No, no, no." Johnny ran over to you as you started to lose your footing, and held you in his arms. "Hey, kid, it's alright. You're going to be okay."

"It hurts, Johnny." You whispered, the blood loss causing you to grow weaker by the second. "I'm scared."

"You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to you." His voice was shaky as he struggled to keep his composure. "Please, please keep yourself awake. I'll get us to exfil."

He carried your body and sprinted toward the exfil point, praying to the stars that you would make it out of this alive.

~

Johnny walked into your hospital room a few days later, and his heart felt like it was going to implode when he saw your smiling face looking back at him.

"Theres that beautiful smile." Johnny's voice came from beside your bed. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm here, Johnny. I'm sorry to have scared you." You reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as your eyes met his.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. I don't know what I would've done without you." Johnny's words felt like molasses in his throat, as his tears threatened to pour down his cheeks once more. "I can't live without you."

"I promise. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled him toward you and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he began to sob into your chest.

"You better not, I won't ever let anything happen to you again."

Alejandro-

Alejandros' worst nightmare had come true. The cartel had taken you hostage in an attempt to get back at him and Los Vaqueros, and it had been nearly three days without any sign of life from you.

He and Rudy were able to locate you at a nearby warehouse, and Alejandro was on a warpath to get to you. Dead bodies were strewn across the floors of the building, left in Alejandro and Rudy's wake.

Alejandro rounded a corner, and his heart stopped at the sight of you strapped to the chair, your body battered, bloodied and bruised.

"Carino!" He called out rushing to your side. He was quick to unstrap the restraints holding you to the chair and caught your limp body as it fell forward. "Carino, please, please be okay."

He carried your weakened body and sprinted alongside Rudy to leave the compound.

His tight grip on you didn't falter the entire ride to the hospital, as hot tears began to fall down his cheeks. Alejandro had been through a lot in his life, but nothing compared to this moment. He could feel the life slipping from you, and bit by bit, his heart began to disintegrate.

~

It was a few days later, when you were finally discharged from the nearby hospital. Alejandro had been distant from you the entire time you were admitted, the guilt of your kidnapping being too much for him to handle.

You weren't going to take his distance any longer, however, and decided to approach him about it a short while after you both got home.

"Alejandro, we need to talk. I'm okay, now. It's okay." You spoke, resting your hand on his shoulder gently. "Please, talk to me."

"It's not okay, I failed you. I should've been there. It's because of -."

"Ale, it's not your fault." You turned him toward you gently. "I don't blame you, not in the slightest."

"But it is, I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me anymore." His gaze fell from you, his eyes lingering on the floor below. "You're not safe with me."

"Don't say that. Alejandro, I'm safest when I am with you. I am not, and will not ever leave you."

Alejandro choked on a sob as he collapsed to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against your abdomen. "I don't deserve you, hermosa, but I will spend the rest of my life making you the happiest person I can. And I promise you, I will protect you no matter the cost."

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

A/N: I really struggled with writing this one- I hope you all enjoy!

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

crepes, english muffin with a side of sparkling water, cider, dark roast served by lewis hamilton please? wife reader trying to help lewis to get off one night where he cant sleep 🥺

watch you sleep

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i have been dying to write this and i took the liberty of making your order is extra sweet, i hope that's okay <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; your husband wakes you late at night after being gone for months during the race season during which he realized that he can't sleep without you or your help aka needy sub lewis missed his beautiful wife.

warnings; oral fem!receiving, switch!reader cockwarming, body worship, sub!lewis, gentle sex, thigh kisses, belly bulge, riding and somnophilia kink [let me know if i missed anything]

crepes; "go back to sleep, you don't have to be awake for this sweetcheeks" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" sparkling water; gentle sex cider; body worship dark roast; sub character aka lewis and i added coffee; somnophilia kink which this story relates to and victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand" for some extra tooth rotting sweetness

currently playing; watch you sleep by girl in red "we're safe here under the sheets, i don't ever wanna leave, i'll watch you sleep and listen to you breathe, i don't ever wanna leave, i'll watch you sleep"

"shit" lewis cursed as he ended up knocking over a lamp before stilling, listening but when he heard nothing he sighed in relief glad to have not woken you up, he trudged into your shared home late in the evening feet heavy and body aching, all he wished for in this moment was to curl up in your arms were he belonged.

he'd been gone for months due to the race season and while you visited when you could, he still couldn't help but miss you every day, his heart aching to be home with you, during their time spent together these past months, george hated how much lewis talked about you mainly because he would never shut up no matter how hard he begged. kicking off his boots as to not risk making any more noise, lewis found himself shuffling towards your bedroom, aching to hold you close but what he found left him speechless as he leaned against the door frame merely watching you sleep peacefully, hair splayed out across the pillows in a way that reminded him of a halo, cheeks rosy from the warm air that blew in from the open window and your nightgown... oh that damn nightgown always drove him completely mad, making him feel like a man starved whenever he saw your body adorned in the light blue fabric. the soft sighs that left your parted lips made his mouth curl up in a smile, you never ceased to make him breathless. you always looked angelic no matter what you did, his own personal angel. he stood there just admiring the beauty that was his wife for the longest time and as you shifted, your leg moved causing your nightgown to rise and reveal even more skin, skin that he was dying to taste.. any air he had breathed in left his lungs and his thoughts died down, the only thing on his mind was you as he sat next your sleeping form, mattress dipping under his weight as his fingers grazed up the skin of your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown, he smiled at the thought that came to his mind then. moving to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up your thighs taking your nightgown with them until they found a home on your hips where he gently gripped in order to keep himself grounded and not loose his mind at his discovery of you going to bed commando. and while he was glad that there was one less layer between him and you to deal with, he also felt disappointed, he loved the way your lace panties hugged your curves and the way you squeaked when he snapped the band against the skin of your firm ass but most of all he loved tracing the hemline of them until you were begging him to do something, anything. he nuzzled against the skin of your thigh taking in the way you smelled; like strawberries and vanilla, he loved that smell so much that he'd even tried to take your perfume with him when he left so that he could spray it on the pillows in every hotel he stayed at so when he lay awake at night missing you, you seemed just a little bit closer than you actually were. he nuzzled more against your skin beginning to place sweet pecks to your thighs moving up, up, up until he found himself exactly where he wanted to be, his face level with your center and he couldn't stop himself from placing the softest of kisses there too, groaning at the very light taste of you on his lips "i could die between these legs" he mused to himself, pushing your legs further apart eager to taste you.

it could have been the warm breeze that had snuck through the curtains or the chirping crickets outside that woke you, you weren't completely sure as your arms stretched above your head, back arching off the mattress but then you felt it, the soft tickle against your thigh and the deep groan against your core as he licked through your folds, the taste of you sending his brain into overdrive "shit" you cursed, hands darting down to thread through his twisted braids and press against his scalp "lewis.." you mumbled, voice still hoarse from having just woken "go back to sleep, you don't need to be awake for this sweetcheeks" he murmured, his grip upon your hips tightening and the squeak that left you as he tugged you closer so that his tongue could slip inside had him chuckling against your core, sending sparks shooting up your spine "just wanted a taste, missed this sweet little pussy so much" his words warmed you, made you feel even more loved than you already knew you where and while his words couldn't be seen that way to most people, it was the way he said it that would have given his love for you away, the love he held for his angel of a wife. he hummed as your juices met his tongue the sweetness of you overwhelming, he didn't want to leave but when you pulled at his arm, his body listened, climbing over you hands pressed against the mattress either side of your head, he watched as you nibbled on your bottom lip the sight making him needier than he already was, oh how he wanted to bite that lip for himself but when your hands cupped his cheeks, lewis couldn't help but melt letting you pull him close to kiss him.

oh how he had missed this, the press of your lips against his own, the hum you made as his tongue slipped past your parted lips letting you taste yourself, the only sounds that could be heard within the four walls of your bedroom were the rustling of bed sheets and the sounds of your sloppy kiss "missed you so much sweet girl, can't sleep without you" he informed you in between the consistent kisses you continued to press against his lips, loving the taste of him on your tongue, when you pulled away the sultry look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. rolling onto his back he brought you with him, hips slotted snugly against his own, oh how he loved this sight, his gorgeous wife straddling his lap with her nightgown pushed up around her hips and his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, bound to leave fingertip bruises to be discovered at a later date. "you gonna let me help sweet boy, let me help you dream" you soothed him, hands pushing his shirt up his body eager to get it off and so when he pulled it over his and tossed it into the corner to be forgotten you couldn't help yourself as you leaned down to kiss across his chest "your so perfect, my sweet boy always is" you mused against his flushed skin as he moaned, unable to hold it in any longer.

the press of your lips against his skin left him feeling euphoric like he was on cloud nine "missed you so such" he hummed, fingers threading through your hair as you kissed his chest paying special attention to his tummy, you loved the feeling of the soft skin against your lips just like he did, lewis loved laying with his head snuggled against your tummy placing kisses to the soft skin every now and then just imagining what it would be like when you were pregnant.

how he'd always wanted to see you pregnant with his child, stomach round and breasts heavy with milk, oh how he would feed from you himself, he thought but was soon distracted from that delicious thought when you kissed across his waistline causing him to gasp, head slamming back against the soft pillows of your shared bed and his sudden movement caused lewis to tug at your hair a little too hard which made you wince "careful baby, you gotta be gentle with me" you giggled, god your laugh never failed to set his heart alight "i'm sorry love" he soothed, rubbing his fingers against your scalp to soothe the ache "i didn't mean to hurt you" he smiled as you hummed from the feeling of his little massage "i know my sweet, i know" you replied, moving back up his body, enjoying his facial expressions when you dipped your hand into his sweatpants to gently stroke his already painfully hard cock.

lewis couldn't believe his luck, how lucky he was to have you and how lucky you were have him "lift your hips for me sweet boy" you asked, tugging his sweatpants off his hips and down his legs, leaving him to kick them off as you once again straddled his hips feeling the tip of his cock poke against your entrance as you kneeled above him slightly and as you sank down on his cock, your pussy clenching around him, lewis pulled you down against his body, chest pressed against his with one hand gripping your hip, the other still tangled in your hair, as you rocked your hips you couldn't help but kiss the beautiful man below you, thumbs running over his cheeks as his cock dragged along your inner walls, it was a feeling you had missed, feeling him so deeply. "so fucking deep lew" you moaned.

your forehead pressed to lewis's as you panted against eachothers mouths, your hips moving faster and faster never wanting to stop. his breath was hot against your face when he jerked his hips up trying to met your thrusts only to have you push them down when you sat back up "tsk tsk tsk, your not the one in charge tonight baby boy" you scolded playfully, balancing yourself by pressing your hands against the damp skin of his chest, the only sounds heard now were the sounds of your hips slamming down against his and the hot pants and moans leaving both of your lips, a euphoric feeling zapped up your spine when lewis pushed your nightgown further up so he could press his hand against the bulge that appeared in your tummy when you rode him like this, lewis loved the sight; in fact it was one of his favorite things in the world and the feeling of him so deep inside of your pussy was one that you'd never forget.

your hum turned into a low moan as you watched him reach for you with grabby hands, eyes begging "you wanna hold my hand" and so your fingers tangled together with his own, holding his hands tight as you bounced up and down on his cock, you knew he was close when his hips starting rutting against your own.

lewis knew he was done for and so he couldn't help himself as he pulled you back down, lips locking with yours in a messy kiss, spit coating both of your faces in the process and then he groaned so deeply you almost came from the sound alone, his arm around your waist forcing your hips down and against his own as his hot cum painted your insides white, rope after rope being released, your pussy clenched around him as your body shook, a tell tale sign of you reaching your own high, juices mixing with his own.

you collapsed against lewis, listening to his erratic heartbeat as his chest rose and fell all while he held you tightly against him so that he could place kisses upon your damp forehead "i fucking love you so much" lewis murmured while his long fingers tangled in your hair, oh how you loved those fingers and the things he could do to you with them.

you kissed at his chest just above his heart "welcome home husband" you giggled which almost sent him into a frenzy once more "don't start wife" he chuckled darkly holding you closer, never wanting to let go again.

it was in this moment that the both of you knew this, right here was your forever. you weren't going to let anyone or anything change that you promised yourself, watching him doze off, cock still buried deep in your cunt growing softer with each passing minute but you couldn't care so long as your sweet boy was content and at peace, this was the perfect forever.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Opera artist! reader Headcanons:

Warning: I will use the Chinese imperial harem system, plus it will be set in a kind of forbidden city (yes, I have seen Chinese palace dramas, XD). Topics to talk about: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, possible manipulation and murder. Although I use elements of ancient China or imperial Asia, I am not describing any emperor in particular; instead, I'm making up my own.

Enjoy it!

1. Yan Li was about 29 years old when he became emperor, and at that time he had an empress whom he loved very much, but she died in childbirth with the first prince due to her poor health, and from then on he became very sad and depressed.

2. You were a beautiful street opera artist who sang and danced at different events. You ran away from home after your noble parents planned to marry you to a man of not very good intentions.

3. You suffered a lot the first few years, but slowly you gained a group of artist friends, and among them is this girl from a humble class named Lili.

4. On the other hand, you had met a young blacksmith named Zhou, with whom you had a secret romance, which only Lili knew about. You and Lili had become confidants.

5. Due to your escape from home, you were also able to avoid the mandatory imperial selection for a long time. In this selection, girls from certain clans were taken to the palace to be selected to be consorts or concubines of the emperor or princes present.

6. You had lived happy and free, without problems until that fateful day…

7. Yan Li's mother, the Empress Dowager, saw how depressed her son was, so she convinced him to organize a trip to the southeast of the country to distract himself, and after a while, Yan Li agreed. After this, the townspeople and ministers organized all kinds of spectacles for Yan Li's arrival.

8. You and your group of artists were hired for those shows, and you were the main actress, not knowing that that would put you in hell.

9. When he arrived at the town where you were, everything started well until the show started and you started acting, dancing and singing. He was captivated by your beauty and your voice, a quality that his wife also had.

10. For him, it was like seeing his wife back. He watched you do similar dance moves, and he remembered his wife doing these same dances for him in the past.

11. He was very impressed with you, which made him come to the conclusion that he wanted to have you.

12. After the performance, you sensed that something was wrong, so you told Lili and your group, and then fled through the darkness of the night to a neighboring town.

13. Yan Li finally set out to find out about you and your whereabouts, and was not at all amused to find out that you were gone.

14. You began to flee with your group of friends from Yan Li's clutches, and you even met with your beloved Zhou and told him about your situation. Yan Li on the other hand, was already getting impatient for not finding you, so he gave the following order:

--Look everywhere for her, and if anyone is hiding, kill them and bring her to me!-- 15. The guards questioned each villager to find out about you, and thanks to that you were located and caught trying to escape with your friends at night.

16. Yan Li walked up to the scene, walking with a smile as his men captured you and your friends. You were very scared; Yan Li holds your face lightly by your chin, making you look at his face. Seeing the situation you put your friends in, you began to beg for their lives.

17. --I…I will surrender to you, but please let them live, your majesty-- You begged Yan Li. He was surprised that you didn't resist him, so he just ordered them to put you in his carriage. Lili tried to do or say something, but Yan Li told her to stay out of all this.

18. Yan Li had you put into his carriage and tied your wrists and ankles and then Yan Li got in, sitting next to you and that's how he ended up taking you to the palace.

19. He talked to you the whole way and although he seemed kind, it didn't take away your fear of what he might do to you. Basically when you arrived at the palace he locked you in a palace that he had prepared just for you.

20. After investigating your past, he discovered your bad relationship with your parents and what you did after running away from home. You seemed magnificent to him and in a way… bold and brave.

21. When he let your parents know that you would be his consort from now on, they agreed. You weren't expecting anything good from them, but this last one definitely hurt you, since they sold you to him just like that.

22. The wedding took place, and Yan Li conferred on you the imperial title of "Noble Lady", and immediately had your green label prepared. The green labels are labels that contained the names or imperial titles of an emperor's consorts, which turned the label of the concubine with whom he wished to sleep.

23. Yan Li spent his free time with you and explained to you personally what things were like in the palace, something he had not done with any other woman, in addition to emphasizing that he would take care of you and love you.

24. When your green tag was ready, Yan Li immediately turned it over and sent word that you would sleep with him that same night. He sent for you with eunuchs and everything. When you were locked in his room, you were wearing fine silk pajamas that Yan Li loved. It was a beautiful dream to see you like this; you wanted to run, but he held your hand tightly, reminding you of what he was capable of doing to your friends, innocent people, and possibly your loved one, so you ended up submitting to him.

25. He did this every time he wanted to get you pregnant, which is why you ended up having six children with him; four princes and two princesses, while your first son, the "third prince" was the eldest of all the princes. You had to rise through the ranks and use Yan Li's hands to protect yourself and your children from palace intrigues.

26. Thanks to Yan Li, you have gone through the following ranks: Noble Lady, Imperial Concubine, Consort, Noble Consort and so on until you reach the empress.

-End of part 1. Have a good night :3

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone (pt 3)

Synopsis: After Tommy fixes you up, you can't help but let old feelings get in the way. Then, the unexpected happens.

word count 2.8k

information/warnings: cursing, talk of death, not too much, the LIGHTEST hint of smut activity. this chapter is very strange to me, i wrote 3 different versions of it, and this is the one that i felt would carry the story further. not proofread!!

taglist: @budugu, @ajmiila02, @filmtv2022, @cyphah, @ce1iat, @thenattitude

thank you all so so much for reading, i hope you enjoy this chapter!! please leave a comment if you had questions, critiques, anything!

As you sat in the back office of the Garrison, waiting for Thomas, you heard the wails of a man coming from the bar. You could hear every single time a punch connected here, a kick landed there, and the screams that punctuated each. If you strained your ears hard enough, you could hear small grunts and pants of air coming from another man, who you assumed to be Tommy. The beating continued for another few moments, and all you could do was listen. The cries and moans of pain eventually stopped, followed by a distinct voice. 

“Get ‘em out of my fuckin’ pub. I’ve got to go see about my girl.” 

It was Tommy, and he called you ‘his girl’ in front of everyone. 

Tommy entered the office, wiping his hands with a bar rag. You noticed the slight red tinge on the cloth, but decided to let him handle it, he was Tommy Shelby after all, surely he’d had worse than a couple of bruised knuckles. You watched him, as he cleaned his hands and then looked at you. Without speaking, he moved to his desk and opened one of the lower drawers. He pulled out a small white box, marked on the top by a small red cross. 

“C’mere, Love. Let me see that cut.” He said, motioning for you to sit on his desk while he sat in his chair. 

You walked towards him, wringing your hands together out of nervousness. Not only were you nervous because you were about to have his undivided attention, but him calling you ‘his girl’ still rang loud in your mind. You approached his desk, standing in front of where he was seated in his chair. He stood, hooking his hands under your arms, and lifted you so that your ass was directly on top of his desk; you were fairly certain you were sitting on some important legal documents. He softly grabbed your chin, and tilted your head to the side, allowing for him to get a clear view of your face. He gave a little ‘hmph’ and opened the first aid box. He pulled out a spray, an ointment, and a bandage. You realized how lucky you were to not need stitches when you saw the plain needle and thread also in the box. 

“This is going to sting Love, so just sit still for me, okay?” He spoke, turning your head so that you had to look him in the eye. 

“Okay, Tommy.” You nodded. 

He began with the spray, which stung like hell, but you were tough and you wanted to be good for him so you sat still as frozen concrete. The small smile that appeared on his face at your little grimace didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Good girl. The next thing shouldn’t sting, but still, don’t move.” He said, the deep baritone of his voice making your ears heat up. 

While Tommy was applying the ointment and bandage to your forehead, the two of you began talking. He told you a little bit about the war, as you were young and left almost as soon as he got back. He still felt guilty speaking about it to you now, in his mind you were innocent, despite how you just beat a grown man's ass into the dirt a few moments prior. He thought that you should never have to know about war, about mass casualty. He told you about the tunnels he helped dig and operate, and every once in a while when he would get choked up, you would rub your hand along his arm that was still doctoring your face. One particular moment made you realize just what he had been through. 

“We were down there, it was dark and it stunk. My God, Y/N, it stunk. People died down there and we had no way to get them out, no way to even try and get them help. Towards the end, one of my comrades, one of the few I was actually friendly with, he got hit. We never even saw it coming. He got left down there, and sometimes, I still see him…” Tommy trailed off. 

You watched him with sympathy as a single tear rolled out of his eye. Tommy had seen you cry plenty, but this was the first time you had ever even seen his eyes water. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Tom. Why don’t I tell you more about my time up North? Did you know thats where I went? Up North?” You said softly, trying to get him to come out of his head and back into the present with you. 

“I knew you went North, Y/N. I called around about you until I found someone who knew where you were. I just wanted to know you were safe.” He said. 

Tommy had looked for you? Not only looked, but he knew where you were this entire time? So much for ever truly getting away from the Shelby’s, you laughed at yourself. 

“Well then how come I never heard from you? If you knew where I was, why didn’t you ever stop in? Or were you watching me so that you’d be able to stop me from ever coming back?” You scoffed, now leaning back on your hands since he was done with your cut. 

“Of course I wanted you to come home, Y/N. I didn’t reach out because I thought you ran away from me. I didn’t want to scare you off the continent, so I settled for just knowing you were safe.” He replied, packing up his first aid box. 

You studied his expression, and savored his words in your mind. You had been holding feelings for Tommy since you were 16. You were both grown now, and although you couldn’t be certain, the things he was saying sounded an awful lot like something you’d say to someone you cared for. You decided to bite the bullet, and expose your younger self. 

“Look Thomas, we’re both grown, professional, adults right?” You said, cocking your head to the side. 

“...Right?” He answered, giving you a puzzled look. 

“Well then, I’m just going to out myself, and if you don’t like what I have to say then we’ll pretend I didn’t say it,” you paused, just trying to see if he would interrupt, he didn’t. “I have looked at you in so many ways Tommy. I’ve seen you be a brother, a friend, an enemy, but all you ever were to me, since I was sixteen years old, was Tommy. My Tommy. I have pined after you and wanted you since I was sixteen, and you never gave me the time of day. I don’t know what you mean by all of what you’ve said, especially earlier when you were poking fun at me over dinner, but I can see that you care for me Tommy. I’m not sure how thick you think these walls are, but I heard you call me ‘your girl’ earlier. You have opened up to me without reserve like I have never seen you do before Thomas. Never. I’m saying all this to say a few things. One, I didn’t say goodbye to you because I couldn’t face you. I knew that if I had to look at you, and have one last conversation, that I would hold onto that for the rest of my life, and those words would be the only ones of yours that I could ever hear in my head. Two, I want you to understand, and make no mistake, that I like you Thomas. Not just in a ‘well he’s fine, I like him way’, but in a way that makes my ears hot, that makes me want to giggle like a child and swing my arms around. I like you in a way that is bordering on love, Tommy. And three, I need to know if you feel the same way. I need to know. Even if you don’t, even if you have never looked at me like that and you never will, and all I will ever be to you is an annoying family friend, I need to know.”

You took a deep breath, unsure of what was going to come next. You felt a single tear roll down your cheek, but not from sadness, from relief. You had been holding onto these feelings for years, you never shared them with anyone, their weight was your own. You watched his face as he processed all of this. Practically watched the wheels turn in his brain. You had watched him so much, that you had his beautiful face committed to memory, forevermore trapped in your brain. This version of Tommy, the version where he hadn’t yet opened his mouth to tell you that he doesn’t like you, that he doesn’t see you like that, was perfect. He was beautiful, all soft pink lips and tortured blue eyes. You even thought the dark colors under his eyes from being sleep deprived were pretty. You took one last photo of him in your mind, before he opened his mouth. He stood from his chair, putting him above your eye level. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it shut again. He did this a few times, each time the look in his eye changing with the opening and closing of his mouth. Finally, he spoke. 

“Y/N, I am rarely left speechless, but I think you’ve caught me here, Love.” He said softly, bringing his hand up to cradle your jaw. 

He leaned his head in towards you, slower than you ever thought it possible for a human to move. Once you realized what was happening, a million thoughts ran through your head. Were you really about to kiss Thomas Shelby? Was he really about to kiss you? Here? In his office? You never imagined this would be his response to your love-fueled ramblings, but this was the best outcome you ever could’ve hoped for. You had fallen for this man many years ago, but those feelings weren’t like regular school-yard crushes. They never went away, never dwindled, never stopped or changed in any negative value. You had filled your own head with imagined words he’d said to you, convincing yourself that if he ever noticed you, just once if he could see you for the woman you truly are, that he would love you, or like you at least. But now, after you had confessed and outed and embarrassed yourself in his office, now is when he chooses to notice you? Here? While your face is bandaged up from a bar brawl that you got into? You weren’t the typical woman that Tommy Shelby went for, not now. He would go for women who were outwardly dainty, yet fierce inside. Women who carried small pocket knives in their dress pockets, and would brandish them as a ‘party trick’. Tommy Shelby did not go for women who held their own, physically. He did not go for women who stole knives off of fighting opponents, who held their composure getting fixed up in a dark back office, women who went away for five years and turned up without so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’. 

Your inner monologue quickly settled, as you realized that you had created all of those thoughts within a few milliseconds, as here stood Thomas before you, still leaning in to press his lips to yours. You waited, breath hitched, eyes slowly closing, lips slowly parting, your hand coming to rest on his waist, just waiting for the fiery moment when his lips touched yours. 

“Aye!” A crash came through the doorway. 

Tommy jerked back, taking his hand and all your thoughts with him. You stared at him with an open mouth, chest moving wildly up and down, and then turned to the man who ruined your fucking moment. Arthur Shelby. 

“What in the hell do ya’ two think your doin’? ‘Specially you, Y/N. Why the fuck are ya startin’ fights in my pub?” Arthur asked, his hands resting on his hips. 

“I didn’t start shit, Arthur. Maybe make sure you don’t let fuckin’ creeps in the door and I wouldn’t have to teach these men a thing or two!” You shouted, mad at Arthur for many reasons. 

One, how dare he come in here and start talking at you, not even asking if you’re okay? Two, He just ruined the best fucking moment you’d had in five long, miserable, dry years. 

“Oi, Arthur, you could at least ask her if she's okay,” Tommy remarked, turning his attention towards you again. 

You stared at the two brothers, feeling the slightest bit unhinged. You had yelled at Arthur when he was acting like a reasonable buisness man, of course he’d want to know why there had been a knife fight in his pub. However, would it have fuckin’ killed him to wait five more seconds before he came barging in? 

“Arthur, I’ll go over all the details tomorrow,” Tommy spoke again, “For now, lets get Y/N back to Watery Lane. I’m sure news has spread and Ada and Pol will skin me if I don’t let them see her in one piece before I take her home.” 

The three of you headed outside, loading up into the Shelby car. You sat in the back, with Tommy driving and Arthur in the passenger seat. There was no conversation made on the way back to the Shelby home, only silence. You watched as buildings passed out of the window, wondering what was going to come of you and Tommy now? There had been such a buildup, and obviously he felt some kind of way about you, right? 

Once the three of you made it to Watery Lane, it was absolutely pouring outside. A thunderstorm had come from seemingly nowhere, lighting the sky up in streaks of white-purple light every few seconds. The rain fell heavily against the roof and windows of the car, and Tommy offered you his jacket as a cover for your head. You accepted his offering, and the lot of you scurried as fast as you could into the foyer of the home. 

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ll be able to take you home tonight, Love. Are you comfortable staying here?” Tommy asked, now that Arthur had wandered off deeper into the house. 

“Of course, Tommy. It won’t be the first time I’ve slept here. But is there room for me?” You questioned, realizing that either everyone was home (for once), meaning all rooms were occupied. 

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll find you a good place to sleep.” He said, a sly smile coming across his face. 

After explaining the whole situation to Polly and Ada, you were beyond tired. It was well past midnight at this point, and you could barely hold your eyes open. Tommy seemed to take notice, and bid the two other women goodnight for the both of you. He took your hand and lead you up the stairs to his room. 

“You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, okay, Love? I’m going to go to the bathroom to change, just open the door when it’s safe for me to come back in.” He said, handing you a folded up shirt and pair of boxers. 

You quickly stripped off the wet clothes, hanging them to dry in his closet. You ran your fingers through your damp hair, trying your best to smooth it out from the rough night you’d had. You cracked open the door of Tommy’s room, and saw him standing in the hallway, gazing at the door. Once he snapped out of his trance, he came into his room and shut his door behind him. 

“You look good in my clothes, Y/N.” He whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. 

You felt your cheeks blush at his comment. You saw him walk behind you, and then heard the creaking of bed springs. 

“Where am I going to sleep, Thomas?” You asked, not understanding why he was getting into bed when the situation hadn’t been resolved. 

“Right ‘ere, Love,” he patted the other side of his bed, “I don’t bite, I promise.” He smiled. 

You gave him a hesitant look before climbing into his bed, suddenly feeling relaxed by his smell. His presence was all around you. You could smell him on the sheets, you could hear his breathing behind you as you lay on your side, and then, you could feel his arm around your waist as he pulled your back flush to his warm, bare chest. 

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well, Love.” Tommy whispered, still holding his grip on you. 

“Goodnight, Tommy.” 

[eliciria]

hello love!

i saw that you write yandere material and are looking for inspiration! so if you don’t mind I’d love to request some yandere headcanons for satan from om (๑>؂•̀๑)

a/n : heyyy !! thanks so much for requesting. It's a bit short, I hope you don't mind.

whisper to the trees ... (ask box status) : open

check my about me/request rules here

wc : 0.67k words

cws : dark content, mdni! suggestive asf, mentions of kidnapping (not on you), potential smut in the end?

song playing : prayer1 by april27

Yandere! Satan headcanons

On a scale of 1-10, from how scary Satan would be compared to other demons if they were a yandere, I'd make Satan a solid 5.

I am not like Keith Lee, and I can't give that much of a rating without being a little bit biased. So I'll just try to validate my opinion.

Let's start with the fact that this man is pretty much the concept of a person who does his homework. He knows what makes you feel disgusted and what tingles your stomach in lust.

May or may not have studied human anatomy just to use it to his advantage.

Aching from school? He's already massaging the part between your shoulder and neck that makes you feel good, albeit a bit ticklish.

Someone flirted with you at school? Satan kidnaps them, syringes a lethal amount of vitamin c underneath their tongue, and leaves them out on the streets. People say the poor student died from cardiac arrest.

You were a bit uncomfortable after hearing that one. You had just talked to that demon after all. Were you next? Your train of thought was interrupted as Satan ruffles your hair, telling you to be safe. You offer him a smile, and you nod. (He watches as you walk to RAD, shuffling the syringe between his index and middle finger)

Doesn't let you leave his room, and not in the "I captured you" way that you'd imagine. Of course you have to go to school and, do the occasional meet up with those outside (Solomon checking on you), he lightly gaslights you into staying with him for the majority of your stay within HOL. (Little do you know, he may or may not have pulled some strings for you to stay with him here. You aren't leaving hell, sorry.)

Lends you his clothes, in fact, kind of pressures you to wear it. It triggers something in him, a desire. He wants to be all yours, and you to be all his. Wearing a shirt or one of his turtle necks solidifies the fact that you reciprocate this.

He knows what he's doing is toxic and wrong, but he attempts to justify it. (He is going through a crisis within himself trying to validate his gaslighting and manipulating.)

He's incredibly sweet to you, and I mean incredibly. Buying you your favorite drinks, reading to you, all that.

Follows the sidewalk rule for his life, always peels your oranges and whatever fruit you want, and always attempts to keep his anger from bubbling out.

It rarely ever works though, as he is still the avatar of Wrath. Rage bubbles out, especially if something happens to you in particular. Lucifer scolding him? Fine. Mammon stealing his books? He'll get him later. But you going missing? (You were late by 2 minutes..) He was beginning to feel nauseous, his fist clenching. He gripped the book in front of him, trying to keep calm. The ticking of the clock seemingly became louder, and right as he was about to start ravaging his room, a soft hand laid on his lower back.

"Satan?" You say softly, trying to determine whether or not he was angry. He lets out a breath. You smelled so nice. A bit too nice. He turns around. The way that he looked at you now made it seem like he wasn't fuming and holding in his barely contained anger a few seconds ago.

"Hm?" A smile on his face. You couldn't tell what he was thinking of, but the way that he gripped your hand after you stopped holding his shoulder, he probably needed some comfort. (You were dead wrong, he was holding in a boner right then and there.)

You hugged him, patting his back.

"Are you angry?" You mutter quietly. He blinks, before hugging you back "No, no I am not." He takes a whiff of your scent. Sweet. He suddenly gripped your waist, eliciting a yelp from you.

He has decided. Instead of ravaging the room, he'll ravage you instead.

a/n : i leave that to your imagination. reminder i do write smut, so this can continue! My requests are open, so please do request if you have something in mind! Thanks for reading.

[ffsg0jo]

heavenly way to die

character: ijichi x gn reader (written with fem in mind but no descriptions whatsoever)

warnings: headaches, insecurities, self-deprecating thoughts, gojo, hurt/comfort. no one dies in this btw i just like the song 😭

w/c: 1700 words

a/n: this fic was commissioned by @figmentforms-the-human as part of @ficsforgaza scheme. i wanted to say thank you so much for your donation and thank you for your patience too whilst waiting for me to finish writing this. like i said in my original post i have covered the excess 700 words. i really hope you like the fic and i feel like a parrot with the repetition, but really and truly thank you for your donation.

fics4gaza :: jjk masterlist

Ijichi yearned to go home and collapse onto his bed. The deep-rooted ache in his weary bones was spreading, and the throbbing at his temples was only getting worse. Today was even more exhausting than usual. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but he was ready to clock out. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

But that didn’t matter. It rarely did. His role is integral in aiding the sorcerers laying their lives on the line, and keeping people safe. Him slacking would have disastrous consequences and the last thing he wanted was you or one of the young students to get injured as collateral (and the last thing he needed was Gojo to call him useless once more). It was the least he could do. After all, his problems were minimal compared to yours.

With his glasses now sat perched on the dashboard of his car, Ijichi sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest, seeking some relief. The darkness did little to help his headache, but he’d take what little comfort he could. His lithe fingers come up to massage his temples, and he groans at the temporary respite it brings him.

Ijichi could cry. In fact, a tear or two may have escaped his eyes. He felt pathetic, overwhelmed, and on the verge of bursting out into tears in his car.

His day had started incredibly early, and whilst Nanami was always respectful and Gojo’s teasing, he could take, today was just one of those days. He constantly felt like he was doing something wrong, with Nanami less than receptive to his small talk and Gojo telling him his eyebags looked darker and heavier than usual. Even the bright and always polite Yuuji slammed his door shut without his usual thanks.

It only got worse when you, his latest passenger, noticed his downcast face and tried to cheer him up. Internally, he was forever grateful for your presence, but having to concentrate on driving and your words at the same time only worsened the throbbing and aching in his head. He felt terrible seeing you falter when you heard Ijichi’s grunts and slight nods instead of his usual upbeat responses.

God, he was just so stupid wasn’t he. He was blessed with someone who actually wanted to talk to him and be in his presence, yet Ijichi couldn’t give them the attention they deserved. He was sure you hated him now. He hated himself, too.

The throbbing in his head only intensified, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, his exhales stuttering in pain.

Fresh tears slipped out, this time in rapid succession.

You debate on whether you should knock on Ijichi’s window and ask him to unlock the car or not. You felt like an intruder witnessing the poor man’s crying and attempt at self-soothing. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and seeing him like that breaks your heart. Ijichi, one of the most hardworking and deserving men in the world, and he’s alone in his car, in tears.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was having a terrible day, and you wholeheartedly empathised with him, knowing work was only making things worse. You tried your best to cheer him up, but you quickly realised all he needed was to go home and rest. To take some time and really care for himself. And maybe let you care for him too.

Then there was the little stray you picked up whilst on your mission. Looking at the creature cradled in your arms, you guessed it was like the cursed inventory spirit Suguru had? But it was definitely way cuter, with its little shell and pointy head. It kind of looked like Yuuji too, now that you thought about it.

It immediately latched onto you after you exorcised its owner, and you didn’t have the heart to leave it behind. It seemed docile, but still, you were in a sticky situation, and there was no way Ijichi would be able to drive home. You wouldn’t let him. 

Having made your mind up, you walked away from the car, pulled out your phone, and made some calls.

Ijichi’s drawn out from his pity party by two gentle taps to the back window. His spine jumps out of his skin as he suddenly realises what he is supposed to be doing. Ijichi shoves his glasses back on, head throbbing at the sudden movement, and he unlocks the car, allowing you to open the back door and get in. He prays to all his lucky stars that you don’t mention his appearance or the fact that he was crying on the job.

Ijichi’s eyes widen as he watches you close the back door through the mirror and go to open his. You’re going to shout at him aren’t you. He imagines you waiting there in frustration after a tiring mission whilst he’s slacking on the job. Slowly, turning to face you, his eyes instinctually close as he prepares himself for your harsh words.

Except they don’t come.

A gentle touch to his cheek prompts him to open his eyes. Your fingers gently wipe away the leftover tears, and you press a comforting kiss to Ijichi’s forehead. His face burns at your gesture, and for some reason, he can feel his headache already getting better.

You gently lift his face, so his eyes are meeting yours, and you smile at him.

“Go get in the back Kiyo,” your soft voice lilts. “I’ll drive you home.”

He immediately tries to shake his head, slightly hissing at the pain it causes him. He had a job to do, and if he couldn’t even do that, what was the point of him? You slightly tightened your grip on his face, gazing into his watery eyes.

“I’ve let Principal Yaga know, it's okay. You’re obviously not feeling well, Kiyo, and I’m taking you home. That’s final”

Ijichi finds that he doesn’t have the strength to argue with the tone of finality in your voice. And he so desperately wanted to go home. He eventually nods, and you step aside, letting him get out of the car. Opening the back door for him, you help him get inside, securing the seatbelt around his frame. His face heats up at your actions, and he looks down at his shoes.

Once you shut the door, he stretches his legs out, leaning his head back and gulps down the cold bottle of water you had handed him moments before. As the car starts moving, he can’t help but sigh, already feeling ten times better. You were an angel, his biggest blessing.

He doesn’t have the energy to talk right now, but he hopes you know how grateful he is for everything. He’ll make sure to pay you back no matter what.  

As the exhausted man starts to drift off, he feels something nipping at his thigh. At first, he ignored it too weary to even decipher what on Earth it could be, but then he feels a harsher press against his thigh. Slightly opening his eyes, Ijichi peers down, and his heart almost stops beating. Pushing himself up against the door, Ijichi screams, causing you to whip your head back in alarm.

The pale-yellow creature only beams up at Ijichi in response to his scream, its little feet tapping the seat as it moves closer to Ijichi.

“E-eyes on the road (Name)!” he exclaims.

You turn back around and sheepishly look at him through the mirror. The creature wiggles its arms at Ijichi and climbs onto his lap.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you, but you looked so tired. It followed me after the mission, and I didn’t have the heart to tell it to go away.”

Ijichi calms down and slowly smiles down at the creature, imagining you folding immediately to the little cutie pie. The creature beams up at him even more, obsessed with Ijichi’s attention. The man reluctantly places his hand behind its little point and starts stroking it. Instantly, they both relaxed.  

“Looks like Togepi doesn’t it?” He speaks up, after a while.

You look at the mirror again, a smile gracing you face as you see the adorable pair playing with each other.

“I don’t know what a Togepi is, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“From Pokemon?”

“Never watched it.”

Ijichi looks at you like you’ve committed mass murder.

“You’ve never watched Pokemon?!”

“I was more of a Yu Gi Oh person growing up.”

You laugh at the incredulous look on the man’s face. This was the Ijichi you knew and loved. You knew some rest would help, and in such a short amount of time, he was already looking much better.

You knew his thoughts could be rather self-deprecating at times, but you also knew now wasn't the time to bring it up. He needed some respite and a distraction. So, instead, you'd focus on comforting him and ensuring he's okay for now.

The car falls silent with a small smile gracing everyone’s faces.

“I’m free for the rest of the day,” you said, breaking the silence somewhat nervously, avoiding his questioning gaze. “Maybe…you could show me what the hype’s all about?”

Ijichi looks up at you in surprise, shocked you wanted to waste your time spending it with someone like him. Especially after the stunt he pulled today. He already owed you so much, and he didn’t want you to feel forced to hang out with him out of pity.

You mistake his silence for rejection and immediately start backtracking. Maybe you’ve overstepped. After all there’s no way Ijichi would be interested in you.

“I’d love to,” he says breathlessly, interrupting your babbling. Both of your faces heat up, and Togepi 2.0 looks between you both. Ijichi would be the biggest fool in the world to turn you down. If the world had thought him deserving of a chance, as small as it may be, he’d grasp it with both hands and both feet.

“Okay,” you responded, biting your lips to subdue the massive smile, wanting to break out. “I’d love to, too.”

Ijichi looks out the window, hugging Togepi 2.0 to his chest, attempting to hide his own smile and flushed cheeks.

“A date?” You ask, feeling particularly bold.

You look at him through the rearview mirror and Ijichi lets out a soft giggle. Your heart feels like it’d burst with happiness as he turns to meet your eyes.

With his headache long forgotten, Ijichi nods.

“A date.”

extra note: i said on my original fics4gaza post that i'd match the excess if i wrote more words than the initial donation. the initial donation was $10.64 and ive written 1700 so i donated $7.00 too. i've also included proof of the donation as well just so there are no doubts. please donate to the verified fundraisers if you can and if not please spread awareness and share as many as you can !!

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 17

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

(Farewell, Roger…)

A gunshot was heard.

Red scattered before my eyes like rose petals.

—The man in the black hood who held a gun to my head fell to the ground.

(Huh…?)

One by one, the other men fell to the ground. Through the gunpowder smoke, I saw—

Kate: …Ro…ger.

Roger: Kate, you hurt…?!

Roger ran over and cupped my face in his hands. He stared at my face before running his hands along my body, checking for injuries.

Roger: Your arm’s bruised from when that guy grabbed you, but it’s not broken.

(...It really is…Roger)

Roger: …Kate?

When his eyes returned to my face, the tension within me snapped.

Kate: …Roger, Roger…

I clung to his shirt and buried my face in his thick chest.

Roger’s large hand patted my back, the warmth of it making my heart ache.

Roger: …That was scary, wasn’t it?

Kate: …It was…Ugh, I couldn’t…

Roger: That so.

His calm voice soothed my heart, and when he held me tight, I felt happy to be alive.

Nica: Ah, you lived. So, did you shoot them all? You’re a very merciless doctor, aren’t you?

(...Why is Nica)

Jude arrived after.

Roger: Look here, only missed a vital spot on one.

Nica: Ah, he’s close to death, no?

Jude used his foot to tilt the face of the man suffering from a gunshot to the leg up.

Jude: You’re gonna spill everythin’ ya know.

Man in black hood: …If I’m going to get killed anyway…

The ground instantly turned red.

(...)

The man lied motionless, as if drowning in the blood gushing from his neck.

Nica: Ah, he died before we could get him to spill anything. Too bad, we lost a valuable source of information.

Jude: …Tch, ya kill then run away by killin’ yourself. Disgusting.

Roger: …Kate, don’t look.

As I stared at the corpse in a daze, a large hand blocked my vision.

My face was pushed against Roger’s chest and I found myself being lifted up.

Roger: …Let’s go home.

All I could do was give a small nod in response as I tried to hold back the emotions rising within me.

--

After taking all the kidnapped youths back home and returning to Crown castle, Roger saw to my swelling wrist.

By my feet, Ale ate away at his reward meal.

(Why did Roger bring me back to his room and not the lab…?)

But the moment I thought that, I had my answer.

(Ah, I see…I was in a dark place just then, so he’s trying to make me feel less scared)

Roger: Oh right, Kate. See that square door on the floor there?

Kate: Square door? …Ah, there really is one!

While rubbing an ointment on my swollen wrist, he nodded over to the handle sticking up from the floor.

Roger: That’s actually a hidden door—Leads directly to the basement lab.

Kate: Wow! I didn’t know!

Roger: Wasn’t originally part of this room when Victor gave it to me. I made it.

Kate: …You made it? So you just made a hole in the floor…?

Roger: Yeah, if anyone finds out, I’m gonna get a good tongue-lashing. It’s a secret between you and me.

I couldn’t help but laugh at Roger’s own mischievous smile.

Kate: Pfft, ahaha…Geez…Just how much do you value efficiency?

Roger just smiled and, as if to shut the lid on something scary, slammed the medicine box lid shut.

Roger: …You’re finally starting to return to normal.

(Ah…I laughed…)

Roger: Alright, I’m done treating you. You should get some rest.

(I’m only able to laugh like this because of Roger’s help)

As soon as my stiff expression relaxed, I felt all the fear and anxiety slowly melt away.

…Now there’s just the guilt in my heart.

Kate: …-ry. I’m sorry, Roger…

Roger: …? I’d like to hear a “thanks”.

Kate: Sorry…

Despite what he wanted, all I could do was let out my feelings of guilt.

Roger: …Kate?

Kate: At the time…I wanted to kill them. But…My finger, it wouldn’t budge.

They were sinners who have killed, and Crown would have condemned them without any hesitation.

(...I knew that, but still hesitated to take a life)

(I was scared)

Kate: So…I ended up…

Roger: Ended up?

Kate: I ended up…making you kill those people.

Roger: …O_O

(The sin should’ve been mine to bear)

Roger: Kate, though I’ve never killed in front of you, it’s not my first time. So what you’re fretting over is— 

Kate: But…there’s no way you get used to killing people?

Roger: …

Kate: I told you I’d get strong, and I’ve been doing my best, but… But…I’m still weak…

(I couldn’t even run up to and hug Roger on that rainy day)

(I want to be able to support Roger, who’s trying to be strong, even just a little bit)

But I’m still as weak and pathetic as ever.

Roger’s always been the one supporting me.

Kate: Roger, I’m sor…

I couldn’t get the rest of my words out.

Because Roger’s lips had taken my breath away.

Kate: …Ro…Mnnn

Roger: …

When I was about to part my lips to speak, they were sealed again, entwined tongues snatching any thoughts I had away.

Before long, wet sounds could be heard from our lips.

Kate: Mnn, nn…nnn

(My mind’s gone numb…I can’t say anything…)

Anything I was about to say had melted away with the heat of the kiss.

But being hugged close to his broad chest and receiving kisses, as if telling me “that’s enough”—It felt as if all was forgiven.

When our lips finally parted, Roger’s face was so close that I could barely focus on it as I stared.

Roger: Kate, I’m glad I got there in time to shoot them.

Kate: …Huh?

Roger: I’d have to live with leaving you with a permanent scar if I let you kill someone. I’m glad you didn’t kill…Also I’m glad you’re alive, partner.

Kate: Part…ner…?

Did you just say partner? +4 +4

Don’t spoil me.

Am I still your assistant?

Kate: Did you just say partner?

Roger: Partner comes after assistant, doesn’t it?

However, I looked down, unsure if I qualified for it or not.

Roger: I know you were desperately fighting against your own fears to protect the others that got kidnapped. You stood there to protect them instead of yourself. I don’t think someone who fights for the sake of others is weak…Hence the promotion.

Kate: …

And so Roger has saved my heart again.

He allowed me to be myself and cheered me up with a smile of encouragement.

(...I was trying to not cry because I didn’t want to look weak)

Kate: …Uuuuuu

Roger: Oh, what’s up? You’re groaning.

Kate: …Huhu…

Roger: Ah…you’re trying to hold your tears back.

Kate: B-because…You’ve acknowledged me as your partner…I’ll ruin it if I cry.

Roger: Pfft…

Roger burst into laughter.

Kate: Besides, I know my crying face makes you happy.

Roger: Pfft, ahahahaha! You…You’re really…

You’re so damn cute!

The moment I was allowed to expose my weakness, the dam burst and tears spilled out.

Kate: W-waaahhh~ Roger you bully!

Roger: Ahhh, you’re crying. So cute. Pfft, haha…

As expected, Roger smirked as he stared at my face, but…he held my hand the entire time I cried.

(I said I’d never confess because I didn’t want it to be unrequited)

(But I admit it. I like Roger)

(I fell in love with this person)

Roger: When you’re done crying, let’s go out to eat. Your treat.

Kate: I’ve been promoted to partner, so you should treat me…Hic…

Roger: Alright, alright.

The next day, after having a delicious meal and beer with Roger and feeling so happy to be alive—

I visited Victor’s office to report on the incident.

--

Kate: Excuse me.

Victor: Yes, enter.

William: …

When Victor gestured for me to sit on the sofa, William, who was already sitting there, smiled at me.

Victor: First, I would like to apologize for putting you in danger.

Kate: Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault for being cautious. I’m really sorry. And thank you for saving me.

Victor nodded silently and I could see the sympathy on his face.

I was told that he sent out teams to search other locations as well when I got kidnapped.

(Everyone was worried about me…)

I bowed deeply again to express my gratitude to them.

William: Kate, with the criminals dead, your testimony will be an important lead. But speaking about it will be like digging up old wounds, so we won’t force you.

Kate: If any information I have will be of use, then I’ll tell everything I can. This is also part of my job as Fairytale Keeper.

—I told the two everything that happened.

Victor: It seems that the criminals were working for someone that wanted the bodies.

William: Your testimony has helped narrow down who they were. The criminals who kidnapped you—they’re a group of funeral directors.

Kate: A group of funeral directors?

William: As the name suggests, they’re a group of people who conduct funerals as their occupation. It seems that they realized the value of corpses, and started doing evil.

Victor: This group must be condemned. No exceptions. And now—Here lies a problem.

Victor’s cold voice caressed my cheeks as he spoke.

Victor: Just who was their employer? They were someone who instilled enough fear for them to prepare corpses and commit suicide.

William: …Fear isn’t the only method to control others, the reverse is also possible.

(The reverse…?)

I didn’t understand what William was muttering to himself.

Victor: We’ll take care of the rest as we’re already investigating it. I won't let this continue on—Absolutely not.

--

Roger turned toward the sound of the door to the basement opening.

Roger: …Ah, Kate. Just—

Alfons: Unfortunately for you, it’s Alfons, not Kate. These documents here are from Victor. At any rate… It’s quite unusual for a man with hearing as good as yours to mistake one person for another, isn’t it?

Roger: Kate’s the only one that comes down here these days.

Alfons: Speaking of, did you know? It has been almost a month since Kate has become Fairytale Keeper.

Though he knew that, some sort of surprise arose in his chest.

Roger: Yeah, it’s...already been a month. Time flies by when you get older.

Alfons: So, how is there any progress to proving that romantic love exists?

Roger: You could say that there’s still not enough research. —However, there’s one thing I noticed.

-

Another cliffhanger :D

[carelisswriting]

Late Night Hangout

Hey y'all, this is my fic for Ecto Implosion!!

my artist partner for this is @i-havenothingelsetopost and y'all should definitely check out them and the art they made for this fic!! Art's linked in the scene it directly inspired :)

Anyway, here's the fic!

It was weird, seeing Tucker in a hospital bed. The flowers and ‘Get Well Soon!’ card tried to soften the harsh blow, but it really didn’t work.

Danny didn’t like that Tucker was in the hospital.

(He really didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t even been allowed to see him, the first day.)

It made something in his chest hurt.

The thought of Tucker being injured.

It had been stupid.

So stupid.

A second too late, and now his best friend-

His best friend.

Tucker.

-was hurt.

Danny should’ve been quicker, should’ve been-

“Hey.”

Danny shook his head, coming back to reality instead of being lost in his own thoughts.

Sam gave him a worried look from the other side of Tucker’s bed, as Tucker chewed on his lip.

“It wasn’t your fault, Danny.” Tucker said, always seeming to know what Danny was worried about.

It was though, it was.

It had just been a regular ghost attack, Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty causing problems on one of their ‘dates’. Danny had almost been having fun chasing them down, but-

But he hadn’t realized that Skulker was also causing havoc.

Hadn’t realized that Tucker had been dealing with him alone, Sam was with Danny-

Hadn’t realized that Skulker threw Tucker into a wall-

(Danny felt it, when Tucker got hurt.)

(Skulker hadn’t had a good time, after that.)

“Danny, snap out of it!” Tucker said, sounding annoyed.

He focused back onto Tucker, who had a frown on his face.

“How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault? I’m the one who tried to face Skulker without any backup or powers.”

There was a slight note of self-deprecation to Tucker’s voice, which Danny couldn’t let stand.

Neither could Sam, as it happened.

“It was stupid, but you could’ve beat him if you had some of your tech with you, Tucker.” Sam said, glaring lightly at one of her best friends.

Danny nodded in agreement, before adding “Besides, you know that you’re not a good match against Skulker! If it was Technus, you would’ve had him!”

Tucker leaned back against the pillow, giving a harsh sigh.

“Yeah, but I left everything except Janet at home, like an idiot. And now I’m in the hospital for the next three days, for ‘observation’.”

“C’mon Tuck, it won’t be that bad.” Danny said, trying to cheer him up.

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It will. You know how much I hate hospitals.”

Danny did know.

Tucker had despised them ever since his grandfather died. He had hated watching as the man slowly died of cancer, but still went to visit him all he could despite it.

Danny had tried so, so hard to be there for Tucker during that.

Tucker said it’d helped a lot.

Sam grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“We’ll come visit you every day, okay?”

Tucker nodded “I know. And thanks.”

Danny grabbed Tucker’s other hand, completing their little chain.

“Yeah, and I’ll bring you all the homework you miss.”

Tucker laughed at that.

“More like you’ll come pester me about helping you with it!”

Danny laughed along.

He would definitely come annoy Tucker into helping him with homework.

(Not that Tucker would mind.)

A nurse ducked his head into the room, calling out “Visiting hours are ending!” before quickly moving onto the next room.

Tucker, Sam and Danny sighed as one, before looking at each other and giggling.

“I’ll see you two losers tomorrow.” Sam said, before grabbing her backpack.

Danny smiled at Tucker.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

\(oo)/

Danny was woken up by a ding! From his phone.

He groaned at seeing that it was still dark out.

Who the heck was texting him-

Oh.

It was Tucker.

Also, it was 2 AM.

Danny opened up the text message.

‘hey can u come hang with me? i can’t sleep’

Danny frowned, before replying.

‘yeah np, be there in a few’

He hated that Tucker had to be in the hospital overnight.

Danny shoved his phone into his backpack, along with his homework.

The teacher was gonna give Danny Tucker’s makeup work for today (well, technically yesterday) tomorrow, but Tuck would appreciate seeing it beforehand.

Also, then Danny could get him to explain what the heck their biology teacher was talking about.

(Danny did not like biology. At all.)

(At least living biology.)

(Ghost biology was way more of his thing.)

He transformed, rings of light traveling over him, before grabbing his backpack and darting out his window.

\(oo)/

Danny hovered outside of the hospital, trying to figure out which room was Tucker’s.

It was not easy to tell which was which from the outside, all of them looking the same.

At least he knew what floor it was on?

He flew closer to one of the windows, peeking inside to see if it was Tucker.

It wasn’t.

A small child, maybe 7? Looked out at him with an expression of glee on their tiny face.

He could see the kid practically vibrating as they looked at him.

He smiled at them, before holding up a finger to his lips in the universal sign for ‘shh’.

The kid bobbed their head up and down, before miming locking their lips and throwing away the key, then they held their hands up in the shape of a heart.

That was adorable, who’d taught them that?

Phantom smiled, and made a thin layer of ice on the window in the shape of a tiny blob ghost, with a small heart next to it.

It shouldn’t melt for at least a day.

He really hoped the kid liked it.

He looked back at them, seeing that their eyes were full of stars, their mouth open in awe.

Well, guess that answered whether they liked it.

Phantom waved goodbye at the kid, before flying towards the next window.

(Meanwhile, Sammy was so excited to tell their mom about this in the morning. Phantom had come to see them!!! This made being in the hospital totally worth it. He was the absolute coolest hero, even if Sammy’s mom thought he looked a bit creepy. Sammy didn’t think he did, but that was what their mom said every time Phantom came up. Sammy didn’t care though. Phantom was the best hero.)

He finally managed to find the right window after a minute more of peeking into windows, seeing Tucker sitting on his bed, messing with his PDA.

Danny floated through the window, before peeking over Tucker’s shoulder.

He was coding something, though Danny could not for the life of him tell what.

(Tucker had tried to teach Danny coding basics once. It did not go well. He kept forgetting semicolons were a thing that existed.)

Tucker didn’t even startle at Danny’s sudden appearance, far too used to his best friend’s antics by now.

“Thanks for coming dude.” Tucker said, eyes still focused on the code.

“Don’t worry about it, Tuck.” Danny said, floating over to sit next to Tucker’s bed.

Well, not next to Tucker’s bed, exactly.

More like floating in the air in a sitting position next to it, really.

Tucker finished whatever it was he had been doing, setting down his PDA on the nightstand.

He turned to smile at Danny “Not everyone would show up at 2 in the morning to comfort their friend.”

Danny shrugged, trying to pretend that he wasn’t ever not going to show up when Tucker asked.

“Really, it’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Tucker laughed, a low sound as he tried to keep his voice down.

“That’s fair. It’s not like you were working on homework.”

“Well….” Danny said, drawing out the word as he set the backpack down.

Tucker smiled, fond and exasperated.

“What is it now?”

Danny pouted, flipping upside down in the air.

“Normal biology makes no sense and is the bane of my existence.”

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that bad.”

Danny gave Tucker his best pleading look.

“C’mon, please?”

Tucker sighed “Fine, but Danny, you just have to remember-“

Tucker launched into a ramble about their current biology assignment, and Danny flipped right side up, trying his best to listen.

It was strange, how much of this Tucker had managed to memorize.

Some of Sam’s rants must’ve stuck in his brain.

(Or maybe Tucker just really liked learning about animal life cycles.)

Danny, meanwhile, tended to just tune Sam out.

And also Tucker, he realized.

He had no clue what he had been saying.

Tucker paused for a moment, seeing Danny looking completely lost.

“Look just- Give me the book, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Danny grabbed his biology textbook, handing it over to Tucker.

Tucker flipped it open, motioning for Danny to give him a pencil.

Danny smiled at how sure Tucker was that Danny would give him a pencil without him asking.

Of course, Danny did give him it almost immediately.

“So, if you see here-“

Danny crossed his legs, floating a little over the edge of the bed as he listened to Tucker.

(Who was really cute when he was explaining something- no don’t go there.)

\(oo)/

It took an hour, but Tucker had finally managed to explain the concepts used on the assignment well enough that Danny was pretty sure he wouldn’t fail.

So, that was good.

Tucker closed the textbook, handing it over to Danny.

“Thanks Tuck. I probably won’t fail it.”

Tucker snorted “You definitely won’t fail it. Or at least if you do, it won’t be my fault.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

He flipped around, laying in the air as he looked at Tucker.

“You’re okay, right? I know that you hate hospitals but I just wanted to check because-“

“I’m fine, Danny. Hospitals suck, I hate being here, but I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” Tucker said, cutting him off.

Danny turned away, looking at the visiting hours sheet on the wall instead of at Tucker.

“I don’t- It’s my fault, though.”

He heard Tucker sigh.

“Danny. It wasn’t your fault that I got hurt, okay? It was mine. I shouldn’t have gone out alone, especially against Skulker.”

Danny could hear the self-deprecation in Tucker’s voice.

Again.

Danny hated it when he did that, acted like he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t capable, just because he didn’t have powers.

He twisted back around to glare at Tucker, his annoyance overtaking his guilt.

 “Tuck, it’s not your fault! And don’t talk like that! You’re my best friend, and you’re awesome! With or without powers.”

Tucker smiled, and Danny realized that Tucker had been trying to get him to look at him.

Danny rolled his eyes, but didn’t turn back around.

“Look, how about we agree that it’s neither of our faults, and neither of us need to feel bad about it?” Tucker said.

Danny sighed, but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s… that’s fair.”

Tucker beamed, before grabbing Danny’s hand and tugging him into a hug. Danny went with the motion, not bothering to fight it.

Tucker’s hugs were great.

They stayed there for a moment, before Tucker let Danny go, a smile on his face.

Danny floated away slightly, hovering on his back, before flipping his head upside down to look at Tucker with a grin.

And then he heard the door open behind him.

Oh crap-

He twisted up, moving his torso in way that wasn’t exactly something humans could do, seeing that there was a nurse standing there.

She had a look of shock on her face, a hand brought up to her mouth.

Danny went invisible.

Damn, he really hoped Tucker could cover for this.

It would be a nightmare if Danny’s parents got called.

Danny darted into the corner, not wanting to deal with the nurse accidentally walking through him if she went over to Tucker’s bed.

(It was a disconcerting feeling, someone passing through him when he was a ghost. Not for him, really, he barely noticed, but Sam and Tucker had told him that it felt like there were invisible fingers trailing over their skin, when they’d tested it out.)

The nurse stood there a moment more, frozen in her surprise.

Danny saw Tucker cringe slightly.

“Um, hey? What’s up?”

The nurse shook her head, before saying hesitantly “I, you didn’t see anything?”

Tucker grabbed his PDA from the nightstand, fiddling with it.

“Nope, nothing. Who- What would even be there?”

He was not a good liar.

Danny sighed, just slightly.

The nurse turned towards the sound, but just shook her head again.

“Nothing, I don’t know. I thought I saw something. Don’t worry about it.”

A bright smile came on her face, obviously practiced for dealing with patients.

“So, any issues? Any pain? We’re still on the lookout for any internal bleeding.” She said as she picked up Tucker’s chart, looking at something on it.

Tucker flipped over his PDA, his fingers twitching like he wanted to start typing something.

“I’ve been okay, just couldn’t sleep.”

The nurse glanced up at him.

“Do you want some melatonin? It can’t mess up any of the blood thinners, antibiotics, or pain meds we’ve got you on, and it’ll help you sleep.”

Danny’s eyes widened.

Blood thinners? Danny hadn’t realized that they’d put Tucker on anything like that.

He’d figured that he’d be on antibiotics and pain meds, but blood thinners?

Why was he on blood thinners?

Weren’t those for when someone got surgery-

Tucker shrugged.

“I mean, sure? I might not take it right away.”

The nurse nodded, her smile still fixed on her face.

“Okay, I’ll bring that in for you.”

She stepped outside the room, and Danny followed her.

He was curious, and also-

Tucker was on blood thinners, apparently.

And hadn’t told Danny.

Had his injuries been more serious than he’d said? He’d insisted it was just some bruising, that they were being overcautious with the observation.

Danny poked his head through the wall, watching as the nurse leaned against the wall, holding a hand to her chest.

Oh. He’d really scared her.

She was mumbling under her breath.

“It was nothing Kate, you don’t need to freak out about it, of course there wasn’t a ghost in your patient’s room at 3 AM, that would be ridiculous-“

She continued to mutter to herself, before pushing off the wall and walking down the hallway.

Danny felt pretty bad about scaring her, but he couldn’t exactly apologize.

…Maybe he should just, leave her something nice?

He looked over to the nurse’s station.

He drifted over.

It was full of papers, patient charts and schedules and a bunch of stuff that looked way too medical-y for Danny to want to deal with.

He bit his lip, thinking.

Maybe she’d just like a flower?

Girls liked flowers.

Danny carefully formed a flower out of ice, one that looks kinda like a daisy maybe?

Danny was better at remembering what flowers looked like than what they were called.

(Also, he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a ghost flower.)

(Again, he was better at remembering what they looked like than what they were called, or where he found them.)

Satisfied with his small apology, Danny ducked back through the wall into Tucker’s room.

And then he remembered, oh right, Tucker, maybe, was lying about his injuries.

Tucker was typing something on his PDA, but he looked up when Danny came back into the room.

Danny was still invisible, but Tucker and Sam had figured out that when he entered a room, even if he was invisible, the temperature dropped slightly.

No one else had noticed that yet, but Tucker thought it was great, since it meant he knew where Danny was.

Danny did not think that it was great right now.

“Dude, what were you even doing?” Tucker said, putting down his PDA.

Danny faded back into visibility, trying to keep his face blank, or at least close to it.

“I was checking on the nurse. I scared her a lot, Tuck.”

Tucker grimaced.

“Yeah, but you knew what you look like when you’re in shadow.”

Danny did.

Apparently, something about low light made him look more ghostlike, stretching out his proportions and blurring his features. He never noticed it, but Tucker had tried to describe it to him as best as he could.

Sam had grinned and said that he looked awesome, like he was from a horror movie.

(Danny hadn’t liked that description. He didn’t want to be scary.)

(Sam hadn’t said it again.)

“Also, your eyes were reflecting the light, like a cat or something.” Tucker added, drawing Danny’s attention back to him.

Danny frowned.

“They were? That’s new.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Looked cool, though.”

It probably had.

“I gave her an ice flower, the nurse I mean. I wanted to aplogize.” Danny said.

Tucker grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’ve got a crush-“

Danny groaned.

“Tuck, seriously, you do not have to say that anytime I give a girl anything.”

Tucker laughed.

“I know, but your reactions are so funny.”

Danny sighed.

He knew that he needed to stop reacting, if he actually wanted Tucker to stop.

But it got under his skin, when Tucker teased him about having crushes on girls.

(Danny tried not to think about why that was.)

He floated closer to Tucker’s bed, a small frown on his face.

The nurse would probably be back soon.

But Danny really wanted to know what was happening with Tucker’s injuries.

“Tuck, why are you on blood thinners?”

Tucker looked away, all of the humor gone.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Danny huffed.

“What do you mean? Just tell me!”

Tucker sighed, before looking pleadingly at Danny.

“Don’t freak out, but I had surgery. That’s why I’m on blood thinners.”

Danny reeled back.

Tucker had surgery?

His injuries had been bad enough for that?

(Danny had failed that badly?)

“You- you were that hurt?” Danny asked, his voice wavering.

Tucker got a look of panic on his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Danny I swear, it was almost nothing, they just had to fix some internal bleeding-“

“You had internal bleeding?” Danny screeched.

Tucker nodded hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Danny asked, hurt in his voice.

Had Tucker been mad at him for failing to protect him-?

“I didn’t want you to worry, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds-“

The door opened.

Danny went invisible almost immediately this time, not wanting to scare the nurse again.

She looked less freaked out, a smile fixed on her face.

“Here’s that melatonin, sorry that it took me so long to get.”

She handed Tucker a small cup, two pills in it.

“Once you take those, it should be easier for you to fall asleep.”

Tucker nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He glanced to the corner Danny was in, as the nurse did one last check of his vitals.

Danny sighed almost silently from his corner.

He’d failed, he’d let Tucker get hurt-

Tucker hadn’t told him.

The nurse left, telling Tucker to go to sleep as she did.

Danny faded back into visibility, his face downcast.

Tucker sighed at his expression.

“Danny, I didn’t want you to worry-“

“Tell me next time.” Danny said pleadingly, desperately.

If he didn’t know when he’d failed, he couldn’t try to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Tucker shook his head, not in denial but in exasperation.

“Okay. I’ll tell you next time.”

Danny felt relief travel through him, settling something in his core.

He needed to know when Tucker, or Sam, got hurt.

He needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Danny floated forward, before hugging Tucker.

Tucker rolled his eyes, leaning into the hug.

“Is this some ghost thing? Feels like a ghost thing.”

Danny laughed, rolling his eyes right back at Tucker.

“Really, it’s a ghost thing to care about my friends now-?”

Tucker shoved lightly at Danny, humor in his face.

“Shut up, you know what I mean-“

Danny grinned, leaning back, still floating in front of Tucker.

“It’s not a ghost thing, Tuck. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Tucker smiled softly at Danny at the sentiment behind his words.

Danny looked away, feeling his face heat up.

Tucker laughed slightly at Danny’s apparent embarrassment.

(It wasn’t embarrassment. He just couldn’t handle Tucker smiling at him like that, it was so full of love-)

Danny looked back at him, seeing Tucker grinning at him.

He crossed his arms with a huff, dramatic and insincere.

“You don’t have to annoying about it-“

Tucker cut him off with another laugh, before he looked over to his PDA, seeing the time.

He sighed.

Danny glanced over as well, seeing that it was almost 4 AM.

He needed to get home, heck-

His mom was always up at six, and she checked on Danny and Jazz at the same time.

And Danny would really like to get some more sleep before he was inevitably woken up by his mom checking on him.

He looked back to Tucker, an apologetic look on his face.

“I gotta go, sorry-“

Tucker waved him off.

“No worries. Thanks for coming to hang out.”

Danny smiled, about to grab his bag-

And then he had a very impulsive thought.

He wavered for a moment.

Before deciding, yeah, it’s worth it.

He leaned forward, giving Tucker a kiss on the cheek.

Tucker looked at him in complete surprise.

Danny smiled softly at him, and Tucker blushed.

(Ha, sweet revenge.)

Danny felt all of his sudden confidence leave him in moments.

He’d actually just done that, Ancients-

He darted away, grabbing his bag quickly.

“So uh, yeah no problem, I’ll see you at school-!” Danny said in a rush, before flying out of the window.

He was halfway to his house before he remembered that no, he wouldn’t see Tucker at school, because Tucker was still gonna be in the hospital for a few more days.

He was such a mess.

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that, kissed Tucker on the cheek.

(He wished he could do it again.)

\(oo)/

Tucker watched as Danny flew away.

He held a hand to his cheek.

His best friend had just kissed him.

On the cheek, but still.

He’d kissed Tucker.

A soft smile came onto his face.

If Danny felt the same-

Oh, Tucker was so going to flirt with him when he came back in the morning.

Danny wasn’t gonna know what hit him.

He took the melatonin pills, laying down to wait for the sleepiness to hit him.

Tucker grinned to himself.

This was going to be fun.

And maybe he’d get a boyfriend out of it.

A man could dream.

[warping-realities]

Building an Empire Part I

Okay, I know I said I didn't plan on writing anything new, but it seems that just by making the new images for Making

Amends the desire to try something new appeared. In reality, it's not that new because I'm not writing anything different from what I've written before and even the way the transformation occurs is derived from another story, albeit with some twists. And yes, as the title makes clear we are talking about a series, but I have no idea when the next part will be ready. Finally, this one is a little darker than my usual, so be warned. Hope you like it!

The Partner

Javier stared at the prison cell wall with hatred so deep in his eyes that it could burn a hole in the concrete in front of him. He had been very stupid to let himself get caught in something as stupid as tax evasion. The police had been looking for years for a reason to place him in that exact place without ever having come close to him engaging in any of the criminal activities that formed the basis of the small fortune acquired through his life of crime. At almost forty years of age he had acquired a reputation in the criminal underworld, several gangs and cartels hired his services with the guarantee of a quick and effective solution to any possible problem. An arrest would irreparably tarnish that reputation. And in his field, a man's reputation was his greatest asset, even more so when he had another reputation, that of an insatiable man-eater, who had only gotten away with his actions and the blatant homophobia in his midst due to his impeccable record. In fact, if a look could tear down a wall, Javier's cell would have been open to the outside world for a long time.

….

"Javier Ruiz, suspect in several cases of extortion, drug trafficking and possible involvement in homicides that have never been clarified. Raised by his maternal great-aunt Isabela Ruiz, his father was a member of a cartel killed in an exchange of gunfire with a rival gang before his birth and his heroin-addicted mother died with him in her arms at the age of 3 in the small apartment where they lived, where he would be found 4 days after the incident, dehydrated but still resisting.

Since he was a child, he was known for his enormous size, which earned him his nickname, Golias, Goliath, a name he adopted in the criminal underworld. We have had reports of his activities for more than two decades but without ever being able to link the nickname to the person. Until now.

Thanks to a rookie mistake we finally have him in custody, an opportunity. " Explained to the room a young dark haired cop.

"Indeed, he has precious information, but it seems no one in here is capable to get him to say anything." Police Lieutenant Patrick Walsh spoke in response, with a hard look at his subordinates.

"An opportunity we just missed. His bail was just paid, he's free." Interjected one of the police officers present, Sergeant Adams, a portly black man in his fifties.

"Shit, a completely wasted golden opportunity." Exclaimed the young dar haired and fresh out of the academy, Officer Anthony DiAngelo who was present there only because he was the lieutenant's wife's nephew.

"Maybe not. Sir, I have an idea." Said a strong blond man of about 35 years old with a rigid look and posture. And his idea made the lieutenant's eyes shine with excitement.

…

"Enjoying your freedom while you can Goliath?" asked the blonde detective in front of the police station when Javier was released.

"My name is Javier. And my taxes and bail have been paid, there's no need to bother me detective...?"

"Fischer. Michael Fischer. And I didn't want to bother you Golias, just warn you."

"Warn me, of what?"

"Unfortunately, it seems that the information that you spent the night at the police station has leaked . The rumor going around the city is that you handed over very important people to save your skin."

"Save me from what, a stupid accusation of tax evasion?"

"Ah, but they don't know that, do they?"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Goliath, this son of a bitch here is your best friend right now."

"I have no friends, let alone a pig like you. And if you think I'm going to fall for that stupid move and turn someone in, you're sorely mistaken."

"Well, I'm sure a lot of people have seen you talking to me in the last few minutes, friend." Detective Fischer concluded as he placed a card in Javier's pocket. While Javier, being in front of the police station, could not react the way he wanted and risk being arrested again.

"For when you realize the value of my friendship, Goliath."

…..

Javier was foaming at the mouth, with the money he had accumulated he knew he could live reasonably well in some forgotten third world country. Still, he needed to take Tia Isabel with him and that would be a big problem. How would he go out the country with an elderly illegal woman with the police and the city's biggest criminals on his tail?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You bastards." He shouted at the roof of the car as he headed to the comfortable apartment he had rented for the aunt who had raised him spend the last years of her life.

"Tia sabel, it's Javi, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday, I had an unforeseen event and we need to talk about... Tia? Tia?" Said Javier, touching the cold corpse of the woman who had created him and feeling a wave of pain, sadness and already the familiar hate and anger invade him."

"They're going to pay, they're going to pay...damn pigs." He said between tears, hugging his aunt's body. And so he continued for a long time. Until a strange buzzing sound caught his attention. Following the source of the sound he came across a shelf full of trinkets. The buzzing came from a small round golden box. He picked it up and felt it vibrate in his huge hand. Opening it he found a coin made of pure gold that when he picked it up dissolved in his hands, and just like that a whole new range of possibilities opened up to him and despite all the sadness of that moment he couldn't help but smile.

……

"Are you sure it's okay to you take care of Jamie, Will?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischer, you know I've been doing this for years."

"Still, I'd imagine you'd want to enjoy your last few days of spring break before returning to college."

"Ah, you know I've never had the most lively social life. And it's a pleasure to spend some time with him, it's like he's a little brother."

"Thank you very much Will, you know I see you as a nephew too. And I'm sorry again, but Lauren is on night shift at the hospital and this urgent appointment came up."

"Like I said, Mr. Fischer. No problem, it's a pleasure." Replied the twenty-year-old boy standing at the door of Detective Fischer's comfortable suburban home, with a smile on his face.

After giving his eight-year-old son a hug and apologizing for his absence, Michael got into his SUV and responded to the message from the unknown number but which belonged to a person he would probably know very well. He just couldn't imagine how much.

….

Michael Fischer was a tough man, with few smiles, shaped by the service to his country, he had served in Afghanistan and seen the horrors of war firsthand. Upon returning he enrolled in the police academy and at the age of 35 he was a detective in one of the busiest police stations in the large metropolis in which he lived. His reputation for being harsh had spread quickly among his colleagues and the criminal population, earning him admirers but also many enemies, even among his colleagues, as everyone knew that he could become ruthless in his endeavor for what he thought was fair.

For him there was no such thing as the spirit of the law, the law was the law and had to be followed, which did not prevent him from using its obscure margins, often bringing him closer to the behavior of the same subjects he sought with so much to penalize. Something that many of his detractors loved to use against him. Mainly old Sergeant Adams, a member of the union and activist for racial equality, who seemed to see some of the positions adopted by him as racist. Which wasn't true, because for him a criminal was a criminal, regardless of social class or color and they all deserved punishment and if Michael was the one to lead them to it, so much the better.

Anyone who knew Michael from work could never imagine that the rigid and tough guy was a loving father and husband, a helpful neighbor and an active member of the Lutheran church where he was loved by everyone and recognized for carrying out social works. The church was indeed a very important place for him, as it had been his home for years and was deeply related to why he acted so stoically.

Michael had been orphaned at a very young age and had known the reality of the streets, he himself had almost been one of the strays he hated so much if it hadn't been for the shelter of religion and maybe that was the reason he persecuted social misfits so much, the notion that he had almost been one of them. And if there was one thing he knew from the bottom of his heart, it was that he would do everything to make sure Jamie didn't have to go through the same thing.

It was this responsibility with his son, the result of his relationship with Lauren, the nurse who had taken care of him after the accident that ended his short military career, that he thought about while looking at the photo that served as the wallpaper on his cell phone, showing him and his son on a summer afternoon.

Michael sighed when he saw his son's face being covered by a message notification on his cell phone screen saying simply: Apartment 416. He knew it was imprudent of him to go alone and talk to Javier, but the criminal represented a great chance of incapacitate several of the city's gangs. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. Resigned, he got out of the car and entered the building, not knowing that the man who entered would be very different from the one who would leave.

….

The first thing Michael felt when entering the apartment was cold, the temperature inside was many degrees lower than expected, as if it were the height of winter. Adjusting his coat to his body, he observed the simple but comfortable living room with attentive eyes, but the room was completely empty. The second thing to hit his senses was the smell of flowers, so intense that it seemed as if he had entered a flower shop. Guided by that aroma, he arrived at one of the apartment's bedrooms and there he found Isabel Ruiz's corpse lying on a bed of flowers.

"Shit..." He exclaimed as he ran out of the room and grabbed his cell phone to call reinforcements, realizing what a mistake it was to go to that place alone. Javier Ruiz was a dangerous man and would certainly be distraught over the death of the only family figure he had ever known, even if he was a total psychopath as Michael was sure he actually was. Which only made things worse, only God knew what that kind of monster would do in that situation, although Michael was about to find out.

Upon returning to the previously empty room he found himself face to face with the man known as Goliath, and at that moment two things became clear to him. The first was that Javier's nickname was justified, sitting in an armchair that could barely contain all of his enormous muscles, he actually resembled the image of the biblical giant. And the second thing was that he had fucked everything up.

Staring at the gargantuan figure in front of him, Michael, without realizing it, let slip the thought that occupied his mind.

"Fuck!"

"Not yet." Was Javier's enigmatic response. As his serious face broke into a terrifying smile.

"Look, Javier, I'm sorry about your aunt, but I had nothing to do with..."

"Spare your words. There is nothing you can say that will change your destiny." Javier interrupted. While Michael faced him while realizing that there would in fact be no chance of dialogue. So Michael tried to take his pistol from his holster, only to realize that he was completely paralyzed. Which led him to be dominated by a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

Noticing this, the giant stood up, with the maniacal smile back on his face.

"You're trapped in my net, detective. And because of your own choices. Isn't it curious? How do our choices seal our destinies? My parents' choices brought me to Tia Isabel. My choices led me to your police station and yours choices took her away from me, but they also gave me the opportunity to have everything I ever wanted, to take revenge on everyone who got in my way and finally occupy the place I deserve."

"What are you doing to me, you psychopath?"

"Shut up, I already said you don't need to talk, not yet." Javier replied, while a strip of golden metal closed Michael's mouth, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Interesting, isn't it? Who would have thought that my poor aunt had in her hands the power to shape the universe at will and never used it. I wonder how many years this power was there on that shelf begging to be used while she resisted. If it weren't for the idiotic work from your team perhaps this power would never have reached me. So for that I am grateful to you... friend. No, no friend, I told you this before, we will never be friends, which doesn't stop us from being other things. " Javier whispered in Michael's ears, who in turn tried desperately to escape, only to realize that his feet were surrounded by the same metallic substance.

"Let's see what you have to offer, Detective." Javier added as the metallic substance liquefied and encompassed Michael's body.

"Interesting." Javier muttered as the substance solidified, forming what looked like a metal statue that vaguely resembled the naked image of the man inside it.

Earlier that day when Javier touched the coin, which was actually much more than that, a wave of information invaded his mind. That simple coin was in reality one of the most powerful artifacts known in the universe, a Reality Warper that transferred into the man's mind everything he needed to know. There were a few more models on our planet, one of the silver ones was even located in a city a few hundred miles away from where they were. But silver mattered little when you had gold. And Javier's gold would allow detective Michael Fischer to be reshaped in any way he wanted, from his personal history, through genetics to the deepest of thoughts. Know that gave Javier the greatest excitement of his life, which was manifested through the immense erection that almost burst his jeans and that would have been very visible to poor Michael if he hadn't been trapped inside his golden cocoon.

"Let's start." Javier said out loud as if Michael could hear him, while he placed his huge hand on the golden figure's chest, causing waves of energy to spread and its face to lose any defining features. At the same time, the figure's body increased in muscle, reacting to one of Goliath's great fetishes, men as big as himself, that he could subdue. and use.

While that transformation was taking place, Michael Fischer's mind and story opened up to Javier like a file that he could alter at will. He saw the orphanhood, the importance of the church, the desire to serve the country, the injury during his time serving abroad, the loving relationship with his wife and the concern for his son. But also the harsh and cruel treatment given to those he considered outcasts and the dubious selectivity with which he treated people of color, although he denied it even to himself. He also saw how the police officer prided himself on rectitude and incorruptibility and did not tolerate colleagues who did not act with the politeness, rectitude and severity that he expected from a police officer. Upon seeing all that, Javier smiled and started working.

He knew that what he was doing would not only alter the man trapped in the cocoon, but all of reality, including his own, and so he took care to create the reality that best benefited him. When he was satisfied with his work he secured another revenge, he will left the police officer consciousness last a few minutes after the work is completed and a completely different person takes that place.

Javier removed his hand from the figure's chest and watched the waves of energy spread through it, reconfiguring it into a very different form. After a few seconds he found himself in front of the image of an enormous man, of clearly Latin descent like his own, of approximately his age and size as large, if not larger.

The smile remained on his face as the golden coating dissolved and revealed the image of the man inside.

"Hello Detective Flores." Javier said, looking at the huge man still disoriented in front of him, but who quickly frowned and looked at him with irritation.

"Ruiz you son of..." Michael started to say only to hear his own deep voice and stop, as he didn't recognize it, just as he didn't recognize the weight of his own body or the hands at which he looked next.

"What did you do to me?"

"Don't worry Miguel, everything will make sense soon."

"Miguel? What?..." Michael began to say until he was invaded by a wave of memories that weren't his but were undoubtedly real.

He saw a Latino boy walking alone through the city streets, until he stopped in front of a church and sat down, only to be chased away by a blond pastor.

"This is no place for people like you!" Said the man.

A new memory, the boy, now around 13 years old, very tall but very thin, wandering down the street and being chased by older boys under the gaze of a police patrol who did nothing to help him.

The boy at 18 enlisting not because he had any patriotic desire within him, but because it was a way to get food and money.

The young man at 21 years old, very different from what he had been until then, now strong and muscular due to finally receiving an adequate diet and military training, not to mention the exorbitant use of anabolic steroids.

The same young man a few months later took advantage of an accident to injure himself and avoid being sent to a mission to the country. After having spent the last few years exchanging sexual favors with superiors to avoid more dangerous missions.

The young man being cared for by a young nurse for whom he pretended to be interested only to guarantee his livelihood. Then a visit of an acquaintance from his orphanage days who sold him the idea of ​​joining the police and acting as an informant in exchange for money.

The man looking at the son he had with the nurse with slightly interest. The intense sexual encounters with random men while he maintained the sham marriage because it guaranteed him a good image.

The man charging the same pastor who had kicked him off the church's sidewalk a monthly fee to ensure that criminals did not vandalize the property. Criminals he had hired himself.

The man being all smiles and jokes, to be seen as a man of warm and pleasant behavior, well-liked by those who didn't know what he was hiding and feared by those who saw what was beneath the facade that hid the selfishness and ambition within him. Climbing the career ladder in the police, demanding favors, blackmailing and cheating. Building an external image of a respectable family man while getting rich with bribes and providing information to his former acquaintance, with whom he had constant and animalistic sexual relations, with both constantly disputing who would dominate the other.

Michael initially observed those images with detachment because they were so foreign to the life he knew and the image he had of himself that there was no possibility of him associating himself with them.

However, he couldn't help but place himself little by little in the moonlight of that other man, in that other life, it was as if an immense force was pushing him in the direction of that life so foreign to him. Little by little he began to feel that boy's pain, loneliness and anger to the point where he was able to justify to himself some of the attitudes of the man he had become, no matter how alien and distant such attitudes were from his way of thinking.

"But were they really that distant?" He thought with the heat of burning anger in his chest, the bitterness of humiliation in his mouth, the joy of victory, of making others feel what it was like to be on the losing side and the pleasure, the immense pleasure in manipulating, conquering, dominating. ...

"No, no... what about Lauren?" A woman to be by his side, support him and meet his needs.

"No, he loved her!" Well, he loved what she had given him, and that was, in a way, a kind of love.

"No, no, no! And Jamie! Jamie!" When he thought of his son, Michael felt that expanding force slow its inexorable advance. But at that moment another thought took hold. It's obvious that he loved the boy, after all he was a continuation of himself and when the time came he would teach the kid everything he needed to do well in life and he would make sure that his son knew his rightful place, above all others. But until then he didn't have much to do for the kid, other than paying the minimum attention to him so that he felt happy until the moment he was ready. With the childhood he had himself, he knew how necessary this was. As well to maintain the appearance of a responsible family father. So if every now and then he had to take the kid to play ball or ride a bike in the park, it would be a small price to pay.

Even more so because those walks had been the perfect excuse for some of the most interesting encounters he had ever had. Last weekend for example, one of the boring afternoons he spent with the boy turned into a memorable day in which he fucked hard a twink in the park bathroom, while Jaime played ball with Will, the neighbors' unbearably annoying son.

It was after the memory of that pleasure start to vanish that a last memory came to his mind: the man kissing his business partner and occasional lover in a familiar living room. And the man's animalistic smile as he undressed in preparation for the usual contest of strength that would culminate in one of the two being brutally fucked by the other.

"Hello Goliath" Detective Miguel Flores said to his long-time partner in crime and in bed at the same time that Michael Fischer's last shred of consciousness disappeared within that corrupted mind.

.....

After the wild sex Miguel watched amazed the dancing golden metal ran through Javier's hand, unable to believe the other man's story. Neither of them seeming the least bit concerned about the fact that they had sex with a corpse in the next room.

"It's impossible for something like this to exist."

"Let me prove it to you then, I'm dying to expand the business, bring me one of your colleagues from the police station and I'll show you."

"It's very risky, Javier."

"You do not trust me."

"Of course not."

"Fine, then let's think of someone. As soon as you arrest some of the smaller members of the Maldonado and Deshaun gangs there will be a drop in the distribution of some places and so I will need people to take over. Let's start small. It would have to be someone whose change doesn't generate too many unforeseen ripples and who has access to potential consumers. A professor? No, perhaps a college student..."

Upon hearing that a wicked smile appeared on Miguel's face, only to be mirrored by the other man when he heard what the detective had to say.

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose.

At first you saw it as a nightmare, the meeting with John Walker. No matter how many times you told yourself you were fulfilling your duty to the Family, fear, uncertainty and stress were the only things that duty brought you. Yet, given the darkest scenarios swirling in your mind, and memories of the meeting with Brock Rumlow, John seemed like a really decent type. 

He invited you to dinner to one of the most expensive, top rated restaurants in the city. To get in, it was usually necessary to make a reservation several weeks in advance. Suspecting that his highly influential uncle had a hand in the whole venture, you appreciated the effort anyway. You were surprised, however, that John didn't give up, didn’t take the path of least resistance, despite the fact that you hadn't shown any interest so far. 

Without being gross or intrusive, he complimented the red dress you wore; asked about your work and hobbies, didn't mention business. You felt like you were on a real date, moreover, a nice one. Seeing that jumping from Brock to John wasn't going from bad to worse let you feel at ease. For the first time in, it seemed, an eternity.

Despite everything, there was something missing. You had no desire to throw yourself at John, no curiosity about what his lips tasted like. Essentially, you didn't need that in an arranged marriage, but guessed there will be time for everything. With Bucky, though, time was necessary – all you needed was a single look. But he wasn’t an option.

“Wow, that was… beautiful,” John claimed after you laughed at the joke he told. In reality, you were amused by how unfunny and stupid the joke was. Perhaps the consumed alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere also played a part. 

“Well… Thank you,” you said, lifting a glass of wine to your lips. When you emptied it, John immediately came with a refill. “Don't you think we should talk about business?” 

“What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“How would that work,” you suggested with a casual shrug. “You haven't mentioned an agreement yet, so I suspect you haven't prepared one. That's a bit…” You hesitated, wondering briefly if you would offend him with your choice of words. “Strange, considering, you know, the nature of our profession.”

John smiled, then hung his head and shook it. “I guess we'll just have to trust each other. Not to sound like an asshole, but I've heard that Rumlows have backed out. At least for now. If not them, your father's business will be ruined, leaving your Family with nothing. I also know that Stark has started to turn his nose at your partnership. You’re in a bind, Y/N. And I want to do this the easy way. No complex agreement, just some basic arrangements.” He raised his hands up in surrender.

You were struck by how honest and straightforward he was. Fair to both of you. 

“But… Why?” You asked quietly. “Why are you so nice about it?” 

“You don’t know?” He pretended to be surprised. “I've always wanted you, and now I have my chance. I don't want to do it through a system of rules and punishments. Not too bad, right? And taking charge of what your father created will help me strengthen my position.”

There was a moment of silence as John gave you time to process what he just said. Soon, however, he grabbed his glass and raised it for a small toast.

“So, what'll it be? Can I keep trying or are you giving up on me?”

It was clear that he wasn't really offering you a choice – you could only decide how to play it; keep John at a distance, or make it easier for him to approach you, let him court you.

Having clinked glasses, you both drank the wine, but you could barely taste it. Only the bitterness that the future was to bring. At this point you thought you were prepared for a marriage without love or at least friendship, but the closer you got to one, the more panic you felt. Being aware that the whole situation was difficult, you still didn't expect such a burden.

“Don’t worry,” John added, seeing the concern on your face. “Maybe one day you'll love me. Maybe when kids come along.” He shrugged. Your eyes widened, but John didn't mind it. “What? Someone will have to take care of your father's legacy in case we're gone, don't you think?” He smiled sincerely. You wondered if he was already fantasizing about the future with you. 

Destroying the atmosphere with the shock you experienced wasn’t part of your intentions. The only right idea was to kill the negative feelings with a little more alcohol, so you asked John to refill your glass again, and he did so with pleasure. While dipping your lips in the wine, your eyes wandered mindlessly around the room until they landed on a familiar face – the last person you expected to be here.

You choked, and the sticky drink dripped down your chin. A momentary, barely noticeable panic crossed Bucky's face as he watched you carefully from his table – as if he was concerned that you might have choked to death. However, he stayed in place; rushing to help you would have exposed him.

“Oh God, are you all right?” John handed you a napkin right away, which you accepted and wiped your chin with a few delicate taps to avoid washing off your makeup. 

“I’m sorry. Gone down the wrong way,” you struggled for breath. 

“It’s fine. Are you sure you're all right?” 

“I’m okay,” you said, still feeling the aftertaste of wine deep in your throat. “Excuse me for a moment.” Grabbing your purse, you got up from the table.

“Of course.” John also stood up from his seat, watching you walk away towards the toilets.

You put your bag next to the sink and focused on your reflection in the mirror. Tears, which filled your eyes as a result of choking, smudged your mascara, and the wine – just as you suspected – ruined the foundation on your chin. Yet, you weren't bothered by the poor condition of your makeup. Your thoughts revolved solely around the fact that you just saw Bucky. You would’ve been tempted to treat it as a mere coincidence, if not for him staring directly at you. It was probably his intense gaze that drew you in that direction.

The door opened, and at this point you were ready to see anyone; you wouldn't be surprised if your father decided to come back from the dead and show up here. But it was just Bucky. Again.

“What are you doing here?” You grated, crumpling a used piece of paper towel in your hand, with which you had wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes. 

“Are you kidding me? The wine almost came shooting out of your nose, I had to check on you.” His forehead furrowed.

“I’m not talking about the toilet! What are you doing in this restaurant?”

Squinting, Bucky thrust his hands in his pockets, and sized you up. 

“So?” You pressed, the tone of your voice impatient. 

“You really think I'd let you come out here alone?” He finally let out. Your battle ready attitude had eased somewhat, but Bucky was surveying you sternly. “You gave me your permission to protect you, remember? So I’m trying to do that.” 

“But John wanted this meeting to be more... private.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And nobody found that unusual?” He sneered. “You shouldn't drink that much,” he added after a moment, slightly changing the subject. 

Your brows snapped together. “I drink exactly as much as John.”

“Yeah, except John is three times your size,” he said unmoved. “Look, I'm not stopping you from anything. Drink yourself unconscious if you want. I'm just saying you should be careful around guys like John Walker.”

The urge to ask him to elaborate on the thought crossed your mind, but you didn't really have the time. You didn't want to arouse suspicion by spending too long in the toilet.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised with a sigh. “See you later..?”

Bucky's face softened with surprise, his eyebrows rose slightly. There was no trace of the earlier toughness. “Sure.”

The corners of your mouth turned up with all the tenderness you had for him. You grabbed your purse, then left.

When you returned to your table, John greeted you back with a smile – but it wasn't a smile that melted your heart, or one that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. It wasn't Bucky's smile.

When the black SUV pulled over near the Barnes' mansion, you thanked the driver and dismissed him, assuring that you would be fine if you needed to get home. You left the car, reached for your high heels, which you had taken off immediately after being picked up from your date with John, and closed the door behind you. Having spotted Winnifred right away, you made your way to her. She must have been tending the flowers in front of the house up to now, as you could conclude from her gloves and knees, dirty with soil.

“Y/N, how lovely to see you again.” The warm tone of her voice and the friendly look on her face didn't allow you to even consider that she might be insincere. And although you didn't get to know George Barnes personally, you presumed that Bucky and Josephine inherited their gloomy, ironic, a bit dark and sassy way of being from him. “What brings you here, sweetheart?”

“I came to see Bucky.”

Winnifred grinned even wider. “He is at the back of the house. In the garage,” she said after a brief quietness, which she spent observing you. That's probably why you didn’t move a step. “Oh, your fathers would absolutely love it.”

Smiling tentatively, you gave her a questioning, slightly confused look. “They would..?”

“Our oldest was a boy, your parents’...” She motioned at you. “a girl. So when you and Jamie were younger, your dad and my George used to joke all the time about pairing you two so that everything could stay in the family. But it was just a joke,” Winnifred emphasized. 

Was it, though? Given the world your fathers came from, the environment you and Bucky grew up in, and the situation you were currently in, was it just a joke? Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you began to wonder what would have happened if your father was still alive – would he have let you settle down on your own, without Brock or John's presence, or would he have married you to Bucky? 

He wouldn’t. Because Bucky didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want you. 

There was something else bothering you. You already knew that your families were close, yet you had no memories that would prove it. “Why did you stop being friends? If I may ask…”

“It's no mystery,” Winnifred said lightly, smiling. “You know how your mom is,” she began. You guessed that politeness prevented her from saying directly that your mother tended to be paranoid, but regardless of her choice of words, you nodded. “I think she got scared that our husbands would actually turn words into action. She made it clear that she wanted a lawyer, a doctor or an estate agent for you. But it seems that, despite all the odds, you and Jamie found your way to each other anyway.”

You felt your face turning red along with the heat spreading in your stomach. So you weren’t wrong; it was in your blood – the affection you had for Bucky. No wonder you two clicked the moment your eyes met. However, in this situation, it was like a curse. 

“You have a beautiful garden,” you admitted to break the silence and, above all, your own thoughts. In fact, Mrs. Barnes’ garden looked a little bare, incomplete. The flowers were just beginning to bloom.

“It is promising,” she agreed. “But I’m done for the day, it’s getting late. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make us some tea.” 

“Oh, thank you.” You shook your head. “I was supposed to see Bucky, so… I should go.”

“In this case, I’m not keeping you.” Winnifred beamed at you. 

Keeping in mind the place where you expected to find Bucky, you headed to the back of the mansion. Evening dew had collected on the freshly trimmed lawn; not the most pleasant experience to your bare feet, but you preferred it to uncomfortable high heels, which probably wouldn't have handled this soft ground anyway. There was a peace and solitude that was lacking where you lived – there were no cars, no lights of street lamps, no noise of the city.

The garage was not difficult to locate; especially as there were quiet sounds indicating someone's presence. 

Bucky stood in front of a lifted hood of another vintage car. But instead of focusing on the vehicle, your thoughts wandered uncontrollably to Bucky's broad back as he was leaning forward, probably working on the car’s engine. His muscles were clearly visible under the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You felt your mouth watering.

He raised his head slightly, as if listening for something, then looked over his shoulder. He didn't say a word, but returned the favor by fixing his gaze on you – his eyes darkened with the same rawness as when he saw you in your house that night. Beginning from your bare feet and slowly moving up, he scrutinized your whole body, studying the curves of your thighs, hips and breasts. And you couldn’t blame him since your red dress was even tighter than his t-shirt. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you got rid of the excess air churning in your lungs. “So, you like old cars.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, keeping his eyes on you. After a while, however, he focused on the vehicle. “That one belonged to my old man. I don't want it to rot here.”

Based on how Bucky responded to Brock's mention of his father, you presumed that George Barnes was a sore subject. So you were surprised, maybe even a little touched, that he was now bringing it up himself. You did ask him, but he could brush you off or say nothing.

Driven by some subconscious need to be closer, you took a few mindless steps and stood not far from the vehicle. It was colder inside the garage than outside, so you instinctively folded your arms, trying to keep as much of your own warmth as possible.

“What car is that, exactly?” You asked genuinely curious, eyeing the cream body. 

“Chrysler. From 1970.”

“What about your Mustang?”

Bucky squinted suspiciously, smiling. “The Mustang is a year older…” He answered hesitantly. “You’re into cars, too?” 

“Not, but-” You let out a quiet laugh, knowing how you were about to sound. “This era was the sexiest for cars. And it suits you.” 

His eyebrows rose with astonishment. He shook his head, then got back to the uncovered engine. “This was the most twisted compliment I've ever heard.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned, fluttering your lashes. 

Having checked out your surroundings, you concluded that the inside of the garage wasn’t interesting enough for you to keep your eyes somewhere. So you dropped them to Bucky's hands. Stained with grease, they appeared to be the hands of a professional; they knew exactly what to do. No accidental, hesitant movements.

“How was it?” He asked. You immediately looked up at his face. “With John.”

“I made a pretty good impression on him, I think. He wants to have babies with me,” you said casually.

Stopping everything he was doing, Bucky tensed at your words, a muscle in his jaw twitched. “And you? Do you want to have babies with him?” 

“Looks like a baby-free deal doesn’t exist, so if I have to…” You shrugged. The alcohol in your system kept you from panicking at the very thought. Or was it Bucky's presence that had that effect on you? After all, you felt safe around him, so no prospect seemed so frightening. “Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” The question suddenly left your mouth, because since it popped into your head, you decided to satisfy your own curiosity right away. “You are attractive. Very attractive. Protective, maybe too protective…” You squinted. “But people, especially girls, like it. You can be really funny if you want to, you have money and position. And some pretty cool cars.” 

“What’s with all these compliments?” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“I get flirty after wine.” You waved your hand dismissively, not intending to continue with this particular topic. “I remember you were, well, a ladies’ man.” You pressed your lips together; you wondered if you should have used that term. It's not that you didn't think it was accurate - you just didn't want to offend Bucky, or upset him.

But he looked at you, smiling with a softness that in no way matched the whole situation. “You remember me?” He repeated. As if it was the most obvious thing, you nodded in response, your forehead furrowed. “I didn’t know you were aware of me.”

“Don't change the subject.”

Bucky sighed heavily, but did not answer straight away. “I liked being around women. Still do. But in a different way. I’ve changed, I guess. Matured, realized a few things. I had a lot of time to think over the last two years.” 

You listened to everything he had just shared and, despite your drunken boldness, you didn't have the courage to bring up his father's death again or to find out more about the lessons he had learned over the mentioned two-year period. You decided to grab onto something else. “In a different way? What do you-”

“That I don’t try to sweep them off their feet, or wrap them around my finger,” he said calmly, but there was something in the way he was talking to you and, for a second, you felt like a scolded child. “I don't hit on them, I don't flirt, I don't try to be charming or funny. If they want to fuck, we fuck. But I'm not looking for an opportunity to take someone to bed.”

Overwhelmed by the information you wanted yourself to hear, you didn't know where to look. “Mhm…” You murmured, trying to appear completely relaxed, maybe even indifferent. On the other hand, you presumed your cheeks that turned pink gave you away. “And you…” You began, partly to talk about something else, partly out of pure curiosity. “Do you remember me? From back then?” 

Bucky loosened up a bit, a smirk crept across his lips. He reached for a piece of cloth slung over his shoulder, and got rid of the grease off his hands by wiping them thoroughly. “Maybe,” he answered, shrugging. It was clear he was teasing you, and you wondered if it was some kind of punishment for bothering him with personal questions. “Watch your fingers,” Bucky warned gently, so you took a step away from the car, then he closed the Chrysler’s hood. “I’ll drive you home, huh?”

When the car finally stopped near the familiar building, you breathed a sigh of relief – you were only a few steps away from a warm shower and a comfy bed.

Before you could touch the handle, Bucky's hand wrapped hastily around your forearm. You turned your gaze to him to see what had come over him, and saw a completely controlled unease painted on his face. 

“You know that car?” 

Having followed his gaze, you spotted a vehicle; you did not recall it belonging to Michael or anyone in the Family. “Not really.”

Bucky reached into the glove compartment above your lap and pulled out a gun. It was only then that you felt a sprouting anxiety; not out of fear for your life, but at the thought that something might happen to Bucky because he'd decided to get you home.

“Come on,” he said, and there was nothing but calmness in his voice. 

You got out of the Mustang and joined Bucky on the other side of the car. 

“Stay behind me, okay?” he instructed, and you didn't protest only because you didn't want to sabotage the possible plan he had formed in his mind. You nodded, and just as he asked you to, you kept two steps behind his back.

You cautiously entered the house, Bucky keeping his gun low but unlocking it earlier, his finger close to the trigger. It was dark inside, except for the warm light pouring out of the living room. It was also where the quiet conversation was coming from; you recognised Michael's voice, and it put you a little bit at ease – you didn't think he was in danger, or that you two were the ones who were threatened. You touched Bucky's arm gently to prevent a potential reaction. 

As you approached the living room, that’s when Bucky really tensed up. Seeing Michael in the company of John Walker wasn't exactly a delight for you either. No one needed to speak; it only took a few glances for the atmosphere to thicken in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Michael’s displeased tone pierced the heavy silence. “What is he doing here?”

“Making sure she gets home safely,” Bucky asserted before you had a chance to think about who Michael actually had in mind. 

“From where?” John interjected; he sounded casual, amused even, but his edgy smile said otherwise. “Should I feel threatened?” His question, thrown around as if playfully, only confirmed your assumption that John was unsure of his position.

“No, of course not,” you protested right away.

Michael could have drilled down. However, you could see that he didn't want to do that – he didn't want to raise doubts about what you were doing with Bucky; to give John a reason to back off. All he cared about was putting an end to the subject as soon as possible and not returning to it – making it seem forgotten at least. “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose. 

“Correct,” Bucky agreed. He held his gaze on Michael for a while longer, then, a brief glance was everything he got for you, and it felt cold – like when he left you in that pub. You watched him walk away, but Michael's grunt brought your attention back.

You didn’t stay with Michael and John. Hiding behind a long, tough day and pouring honey in their ears by telling them you didn't want to disturb an obviously important discussion that your feminine mind wouldn't comprehend, you got away. Still, there was something bothering you. So, not long after the desired refreshment and making sure Michael was alone, you went down to the living room.

Michael peeked at you, looking up from his newspaper, waiting patiently for you to raise the matter on which you had come here. 

You sat down in the armchair next to his, and for some reason, nervousness led you to occupy your hands with the belt of a soft, fluffy robe you wore after the shower. “Why was John here?” 

“To speak about business,” he said immediately, still focusing on the paper. 

“Right, let me put that differently…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Why do you think John was here?”

This time Michael did not answer straight away. Nor did he appear to be thinking about the answer; his eyes roamed over the next lines of text. “I believe he wants to control you. Keep an eye on his investment.” He closed and put the newspaper down on the end table between the chairs, then looked straight at you. “Do you want my advice? You'd better let him,” he said. It wasn’t the content of his words that caused your forehead to crease, but the determination with which he said them. “At least two candidates backed out after Bucky beat Brock. Men are afraid to approach you because you got yourself a guard dog.”

At least two candidates, and you had no idea about that. 

“He didn’t beat Brock because of me,” you protested. 

“But he did it. They don't know the details, they don't need them. All they need is that it happened at a meeting that should have ended with marriage. Instead, it ended with Brock Rumlow's broken nose. Of course,” Michael continued. “There were those who were encouraged by it. Who thought it must be a game worth playing. But I turned them down right away, because only a fool would think he stood any chance with Bucky Barnes,” he almost spat. Then, he took a deep breath to release the tension. “He would be a perfect candidate, you know?” 

Although you had lowered your head somewhere during Michael’s monologue, you now raised your eyes to him. Your heart was racing, gaining a familiar, nearly furious rhythm. 

“The friendship of your families, the power and reputation that the name Barnes holds… And it turns out that Bucky Barnes is the only man in New York who doesn't fight for your hand in marriage.” Michael smiled bitterly. 

You looked away to avoid having to face Michael. You crushed under the weight of the awareness that his words had aroused in you. Experiencing far too many emotions at once – you felt angry, sad, disappointed and even a little betrayed – you were hopeless as never before.

“I know that this is difficult,” Michael spoke again. “However, we can't lose John. We can't be sure there will be more better candidates, and even if there will be, we don't have enough time. I don't know what you got yourself into with Bucky, but he can't protect you until he becomes your husband, which he has no desire to do. So whatever is going on between you two has to stop. Now.”

“What does that mean? I can’t see him anymore?” You asked, your voice weak.

“You don’t have to run for the hills each time you accidentally meet him,” he clarified. “But whether you continue to be friends will depend entirely on your husband.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008

[yuesya]

Xiao straightens, and flicks his spear.

The downed form of the man-shaped demon before him fades slowly, crumbling motes of darkness drifting up and gradually vanishing in the air. It’s not dissimilar to the demons of Liyue that he’s familiar with –the demons that Xiao has spent so many centuries hunting and slaying in an endless, eternal cycle– but at the same time, he is able to discern the difference.

This demon was not one born of the restless grudges of fallen gods that refused to accept their own deaths. If anything, its origins seemed more… but no… no, that was preposterous. Surely it couldn’t be–

A monstrous roar sounds behind him; Xiao whirls around. There’s another demon left, struggling futilely in a pool of its own blood. The signature of its energy is far weaker than the one that he’d just fought, and all four of its limbs have been broken… and yet it’s still alive, and struggling to crawl forward on its belly.

Xiao exhales, raising his spear–

–and pauses.

There’s a pale hand that rests upon the bladed edge in a clear gesture for Stop. Xiao looks up sharply.

“You intend to let it live?” The girl –yet there is no doubt that this is no mere mortal girl– doesn’t say anything, but presses insistently upon his weapon. Please stand down, is her unmistakable, unspoken request.

The only reason why Xiao doesn’t point his spear at her in turn is because he knows that she actively fought the demons long prior to his arrival. It’s the only reason why there are humans who managed to escape this catastrophe.

Her appearance… Xiao does not recognize her. He admits that she looks similar to the snow women yokai of Inazuma, white hair and pale skin and clothed in Inazuman dress as she is. But she does not bear any powers of ice nor snow. If anything, the way the sword in her hand cuts through every obstacle without pause reminds him of the whispers of kunado-no-kami. But to his knowledge the last of them had died along with the Watatsumi Omikami that they served.

Regardless, Xiao does not intend to allow the current situation to go unanswered. If she was present here, fighting those strange demons that were decidedly not of Liyuan origin, then surely she knew how this incident came about in the first place.

“Explain,” Xiao says. He banishes his weapon, allowing it to dissipate into motes of golden light. “How did this situation come to be? Has the war in Inazuma worsened to such a state that it’s no longer able to contain malicious spirits within its own borders?”

The girl opens her mouth–

Oh.

Xiao blinks, genuinely surprised and caught off-guard. Her words…

“That’s a dialect I haven’t heard for quite some time.” He doesn’t have a perfect understanding of what she’s saying, especially given that the last time he’d heard this was… during the time of the Archon War, perhaps?

Xiao tilts his head. Is he looking at a survivor of the kunado-no-kami? … So far from the shores of Inazuma?

I apologize. I don’t understand what you’re saying.

Luckily for them both, Xiao is also old enough to know of the dead language that she speaks and discern the general meaning of her words, if not the precise details. Although Xiao is a Liyuan adeptus who has never once left the land in the thousands of years he’d lived, he has encountered gods of other lands, so he is not unfamiliar with other tongues.

That she is apparently unfamiliar with the language that is spoken in the present…

“Thank you for your assistance,” the kami bows. Polite, graceful. Xiao folds his arms across his chest and waits for her to explain. “… I’m afraid that this also came as an unexpected situation to me. I didn’t think that there would be a long-distance transportation array, and the barrier should’ve… no, I suppose that’s unimportant.”

She shakes her head.

“I was investigating a matter that was entrusted to me by my cousin, and ended up being ambushed by cursed spirits. Four total, the last of which you just slew,” she nods towards the fallen demon beneath him. “There was also a curse user, but he doesn’t seem to have been transported along with us. Ah, he would be the one responsible for teleporting us here. He needs to die.”

The words are spoken calmly, serenely. Xiao is aware of the dissonance here, but it’s not as if he disagrees. The regrettable casualties and wanton destruction around their current surroundings speak for themselves.

“And the demon you wish to spare?”

“Demon?” The kami blinks, then instantly understands what he’s referring to. “Ah, Muta-san? I’m afraid I can’t allow him to die yet, he’s the one I’m supposed to investigate. Although, given his current state I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to interrogate out of him…”

“I cannot allow such threats to remain within these lands.” It is his contract, and the duty that he must uphold as one of Rex Lapis’ adepti and his last yaksha.

“I understand,” she nods. “We will depart as soon as possible. If I may ask a question of you, where… are we?”

“You are within Dihua Marsh,” Xiao answers. Pauses, upon the uncomprehending way she looks at him, and elaborates, “Located upon the Bishui Plains.”

“… Did Not-Geto teleport us to China?” the kami mutters. “An entirely different country?”

Xiao stares at her. “This is the country of Liyue.”

The kami falls silent. Then, proceeds to take out a small pouch from her sleeve, and procures a strange device from it –a rectangular piece of metal that lights up with an artificial glow when she taps at it. There’s a small frown on her face, before she wipes the expression from her face with a long sigh.

“By any chance, do you have a name for this continent?”

Continent?

“… If you mean this world, it is named Teyvat,” Xiao says slowly.

Going by these questions… this is very likely not a kami of Inazuma who stands in front of him.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

I have found the strength to draw one (of two) OCs for AFK Journey. So let me record a few details about her here.

Lavinia

Close childhood friend of Valen. Her father was an Imperial Knight stationed there (Stoutstone Isle) but died on duty in her early childhood years. Since then she dreamed of stepping into her father's shoes, bravely (and angrily often) tagging behind Valen to prove she was no less than him, despite being nearly 3 years younger. Sometimes even managed to kick his butt!

Left for the capital at 11 with her mother. She hated the city and missed the island (and her friend), but then found the Heroic Order and saw that girls were allowed - and then didn't think of anything else.

She had agreed with Valen that they'd meet again as knights but he never showed up and so time passed. On occasion she'd discuss with her mother what he might have been up to, not knowing that he's been in Holistone the past few years.

Her design was influenced by the two other Imperial members Guywin and Joey. She isn't meant to have any special rank, but somehow the design looked bland without the touch of gold.

Her story would be experienced as some extended side quest. At that point she's been through stupid stuff and hit rock bottom. She hid in the Ashen Wastes for a few weeks, before Berial senses her despair. He grants her continued life in exchange of being entertained... so now Lavinia is returning to the capital to follow up on her dark thoughts and assassinate the current leader of the Heroic Order.

She would not actually be wearing her uniform, but some rags she got in Mauler territory a few weeks prior. Only after the side quest is over she'd be seen in uniform again.

Valen's got to attend an important meeting of the Solitaries in the capital, and Merlin joins for the opportunity to see more of the Lightbearer Empire (and refresh her memory). They run into Lavinia on the road and travel together for a bit.

"Who the heck gave you permission to grow into such a stud of a man?!" "The same entity that made you grow pretty beautiful curves. You actually look like a girl now!"

Then lots of things happen. xD Friendships rekindled and broken again. Attempted murder in broad daylight and witnesses.

Truths are being shared, faith and trust are lost. Futures put on line. Hypofiends and a Hypogean in the middle of the capital!

Valen nearly throws the towel on the Heroic Order.

Corrupted Lavinia versus Valen (and others)

Berial is causing chaos but escapes from Merlin and the celestials.

The leader of the Heroic Order ends up very dead. Lavinia lives, somewhat against her expectations and wishes.

Hogan saves the situation, at least he tries to.

The Happy End is not missing, though: while leaving behind the capital for good, Lavinia continues to serve under and among better men in Holistone. ;-)

Due to previous events, Lavinia's life is dependent on Berial's grace. She's also got some perks due to that but she'd much rather not have anything to do with a Hypogean. Thankfully, he forgets about her until I need more drama many years down the line. xD

And finally... she wouldn't be a playable character ever, her skills are boring and greatly overshadowed by Valen or even Guywin. I might think about her stats in the future but since that part of the game isn't what sparks my interest, I probably won't. *shrugs*

Thanks for reading. :-) Until next time! <3