#and that helped tremendously because now they could worry about the iron being on

[sufficientlylargen]

Also if putting things where you'll see them doesn't help, try putting them where you can't do things while ignoring them For example, tape your pill bottle to your computer monitor, so that you literally can't check tumblr without it being in the way, or if you always leave the house for work/school/whatever stick them to the door handle so that it's hard to open the door without moving them first.

extremely fucked up that one of the symptoms of adhd is forgetfulness and difficulty sticking to habits and schedules and one of the best ways to alleviate those symptoms is by remembering to take a pill every morning at the same time

[agoodficforchii]

House Call

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Aether, Diluc, Tartaglia x Reader (Separately)

Summary: Genshin characters and you playing nurse

Word Count: Aether - 467, Diluc - 635, Tartaglia - 661, All - 1,763

Warnings/Extra Notes: Mentions of blood, Mentions of injuries (nothing too graphic), Mentions of death, Mentions of hospitals, Slight cussing, Can be seen as slightly suggestive (Diluc's part), Slight spoilers, Use of Childes multiple names, Not proof-read (pls excuse any grammatical errors thx), Lmk if there's more!

Aether:

Being in a relationship with Aether -the Honorary Knight of Mondstat, the Hero of Liyue, the Captain of Swordfish II in Inazuma, the First Sage of Buer in Sumeru, plus whatever other title he will inevitably get- wasn’t always the easiest believe it or not. Not because he would ever treat you unwell (you guys had your petty fights, then again, what couple didn’t?) he'd rather die than hurt you (his words, not yours). It was more so the things that came with him being an adventurer. You know, not staying at a place longer than needed, helping everyone that you'd come across, the very frequent run-in with death. Normal things. 

But you would be lying if you didn’t admit how worried you would get for Aether. You know he can handle himself, that at most he would come back with a few scratches (usually), but it could still make you lose sleep. He would never tell you when he was hurt (Something about not wanting to worry you? What a weirdo.), and you know he doesn’t really take care of himself, often putting others before himself. Which, ironically, only made you worry more because sometimes he would come back with an injury that requires more attention than a scratch. Sometimes he would come back limping, unable to hide that he was hurt. Sometimes, which includes right now, you would freak out seeing the state he was in. 

You guys were in Liyue for a few days before you continued your journey to Mondstat. Aether had just left to finish his daily commissions while you patiently waited for him at the inn. After a while, you started getting worried he never took this long to clear out a few hilichurls. Your worries were cut short with the sharp sound of the door unlocking and your boyfriend hastily walking in. You froze, noticing the still bleeding cut on his arm, starting at his shoulder and ending near his elbow. Aether was frantically trying to make sure none of the blood dripped off his arm all the while asking you about your day. Watching the blood still drip down his arm, you were about to scold him for being so reckless but decided against it. You noticed how quickly his face lit up once he saw you despite being in tremendous pain and couldn't bring yourself to be upset at him. Instead, you grab a towel to cover his arm and start dragging him to Baizhus pharmacy for proper treatment.

"You should have just gone to Baizhu first." you mumble, glancing back at him.

"I wanted to see you first," he replied, averting his gaze from yours. "I missed you." 

Oh. You might need to see Baizhu too. After all, your heart wasn't supposed to beat this fast, right?

Diluc:

Getting to know Diluc at all was already a difficult task. Truly getting to know Diluc was somehow even more difficult, but you managed. It took a lot of time and even more patience, but you managed. He let you in fully, and you wouldn't dare to leave. You knew about his nightly activities, and while you would often make fun of it or get worried over him, you supported him nonetheless. At first, you were skeptical (I mean really? Running around at night killing abyss mages in a silly mask? Yeah, okay) and didn't really believe him. But the first night he came home with fresh new scratches and bruises, you quickly realized he wasn't joking. 

The first time he came home all scratched up, you rightfully panicked. It was just the break of dawn, the sun slowly started to pour into the room through the tiny gaps in the curtain. You woke up to an empty bed, which freaked you out, to say the least. Diluc would still be in bed around this time, but maybe he just headed downstairs earlier today? You slowly got out of bed and started to head downstairs. You, in all your sleepy glory, bumped into multiple different walls on your way down. But those minor "injuries" were absolutely nothing when compared to what you saw on Diluc. Diluc was downstairs, in the kitchen, calmly cleaning up the blood around a bruise on his stomach. You froze in the middle of the doorway for two reasons: 1) Oh my god, is that blood? Is he hurt? Why is he hurt? and 2) Oh my God, is he shirtless? He seemed to have noticed you since when you finally came back to your senses, you saw a sheepish smile on his face while he greeted you.

That day, you learned that he would come home and quickly get cleaned up before heading back to bed to greet you. He didn't want to show you the ugly sides of what he does or something along those lines. You, on the other hand, would have none of it. After that day, you would wake up earlier (or stay up later) to take care of him. Diluc obviously protested, he didn't want you to worry or lose sleep over something so trivial (his words, not yours). But in the end you got your way, and months later, you don't regret it. 

In the present day, you woke up a little before dawn break, already in the kitchen waiting for Diluc to come home. You didn't have to wait much longer, since Diluc strolled into the kitchen as if he didn't spend all night fighting against abyssal creatures. He sent a warm smile your way, one which you gladly returned, before leaning against the counter next to the sink. You swiftly got to work cleaning and wrapping up all the wounds littered around his skin. Times like these were always oddly calming; the sun would slowly be rising, the birds would start chirping, and the maids in the manor weren't shuffling around yet. It was just you and Diluc...

"Did you sleep well?" Diluc asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

Ah, the main thing you loved about these times: Diluc and you got to spend time with each other uninterrupted and unbothered by the business of the day.

"Would've slept better if you had been there." you replied, cleaning the last bit of blood around his neck and looking up to meet his gaze.

Diluc smiled a bit before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, "Then I'll be there tonight."

You smiled back before resting your head on his shoulder, cherishing the moment of bliss you get before starting your day. Yep, months later, you still don't regret a thing.

Tartaglia:

Falling in love with Ajax was one of the most terrifying things you've experienced. He was a Harbinger for the Fatui, a diplomat for Snezhnaya, and not to mention his insane blood-lust. You knew falling for someone like him would only cause you pain, physically and mentally. But, ignoring that, you were also terrified of how he made you feel. You've never experienced love like this. You've never experienced butterflies so intense, your heart never skipped so many beats, you never lost your words that much, and you never ever felt so sick. All over minuscule things he'd do too... So, despite all the red flags and other obvious reasons you should've ignored him, you couldn't stop yourself. Which led to a couple months of mutual pinning between the two of you filled with the most corny and endearing clichés you could think of. Thankfully, it ended with Childe confessing his undying love for you with the most bashful smile you've ever seen. Another (welcomed) cliché.

Even before you were in a relationship with the 11th harbinger, you were aware of the dangers of his job. You knew that Childe getting into fights and getting the occasional bruise was something to be expected. And Childe never hid any of his scars from you, always seeming to come to you to get his scrapes cleaned up. So you never worried too much over him. He didn't hide anything from you after all. You also knew how great a fighter Childe was. Sure, sometimes he could be a bit too reckless, but he always managed. Which, in hindsight, you should've questioned. Getting into constant fights with some of the strongest people in whatever region he was in and then coming back without any major injuries? Yeah, okay. 

Truth be told, Childe would (obviously) get help before meeting up with you, but he also loved when you would take care of him. Leading him to only get his major injuries dealt with before meeting you. He wasn't embarrassed about any injuries he got, it's not like he didn't want to tell you about them... He just didn't want to freak you out and possibly scare you away. But that's a conversation for another time. In the end, you still found out, and not because he told you. Nope! You found out through a few Fatui soldiers talking about a certain Harbinger being rushed to the nearest clinic once they got back.

The second you heard Ajax's code name fall from their lips, you started running to the clinic that the Fatui would frequent. During the entire trip there and the whole process at the front desk, you could practically feel your heart in your ears. After what felt like years, you were finally able to see him, and Archons, did you have things to say to him. Bursting into the hospital room, you quickly went to grab his face before turning it all over. 

"Archons Ajax! Are you alright- No, how are you feeling?" you rush out, fear and concern evident in your voice.

"Babe? What are you doing here?" he questioned back instead.

"What am I doing here? Did you expect to hide this from me?" you asked in response. At this point, you had stopped trying to look at all his bruises and looked straight into his eyes. Both the fear and concern that was evident in your voice, was also evident in the way you held him.

His lack of response caused you to go on a mini-rant,

"You idiot, how could you be so reckless? Don't ever do something like that again."

"Be more careful next time, or else I'm not gonna kiss you anymore- I'm being honest this time!"

The rest of your scolding fell on deaf ears as Childe looked at you with the softest smile that ever graced his pretty face. He really did love you and it was clear you loved him back just as much.

Notes: *awkward cough* hi- ANYWAY. Please take this cutely domestic little post I totally spent the past three months on it. No I didn't I was just lazy. Notice how each drabble got longer and longer yeah I have issues.

[youbloodymadgenius]

What Could Have Been (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This piece wasn’t requested;  the idea just popped into my mind and I had to write it. I don’t write smut often - I find it very hard in a foreign language - and I know I’m not very good at it. I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

@geekandbooknerd​ - thank you so much for beta reading this for me ♥️

@pomegranates-and-blood​ - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed the last sentence from you. It fit perfectly 😉

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: When Ivar calls for a healer, he does not expect you, his occasional lover, to enter his tent.

Warning: smut.

Words: 2385

"Go and fetch the healer!" Ivar commands, exploding as the guard outside the tent doesn't react quick enough. "YOU GO NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A STICK BEFORE NIGHTFALL!" His roar loud enough to be heard all over the camp, the frightened guard runs away while babbling apologies, his cheeks burning red.

 Sweating and in pain, Ivar enters the tent, heading slowly toward a straw mattress. Grunting, he flops down on the makeshift bed and closes his eyes briefly, trying to keep the agony in his legs at bay. The battle had been harsh on his twisted limbs, leaving him with stiff, aching muscles. 

 "You asked for a healer, Prince Ivar?" Your fresh and youthful voice startles him and he raises his head, furrowing his brow as he looks at you. "I was expecting Una." His dry, annoyed tone doesn't unsettle, nor surprise you. Prince Ivar is not exactly the most easygoing person. And you know he's very secretive when it comes to his pain. He trusts Una, the main healer, who has been taking care of his legs on a daily basis for many years.  

 "I'm sure you were." You just nod, undeterred. "We may have won the battle, Prince Ivar, but the wounded are countless. Una is taking care of Hrafn, whose arm had to be cut off. She's the one who sent me to you. So, sorry if it bothers you, my Prince, but I'm afraid you'll have to do with me. As for myself, rest assured that I know precisely what I must do. " 

The truth is, tending to Ivar's legs is nothing hard, nor complicated. A meadowsweet and nettle infusion to ease the pain, a salve made with a concoction of boiled blackcurrant and ash leaves collected on Midsummer Night to undo the knots in his thighs and calves, that's all you need, and both are in the small leather pouch you wear at your waist at all times. 

In addition, a hot bath of course wouldn't do any harm, but there's no such luxury while fighting a war.  

 Seemingly unconvinced, Ivar scowls and snorts, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs pros and cons, longing for relief but at the same time reluctant because you're not his regular healer. And perhaps also because you're… you.

 Your suspicions are confirmed an instant later, as Ivar wearily rubs his face with a bloody hand. "No other healers were available? Surely there are not just the two of you, right?"

 You shrug, hardly suppressing a grin. He's right, of course. There are many of you here in Wessex, alongside the Great Heathen Army. However, you and Una are the only ones who are not terrified of Ragnar's unpredictable youngest son. Therefore, since Una was busy, you were the only one willing to go and take care of his legs. But telling him that wouldn't be very wise, right? So, you choose another way.

 "My Prince, if I may say so, don't make things harder. I'm already here, and I can tell you're in pain. So, please, let me do what I'm here for." Inhaling deeply, you give him a small smile. "If it's easier for you, let's say that what happened in the past stays in the past. I'm here as a healer, nothing more, I intend to do my job in the most efficient way and I know I can help you."

 Back in Kattegat, when Ivar was still a boy and not yet this bloodthirsty man obsessed with revenge, before Aslaug's and Ragnar's deaths, before all Hel breaks loose, you and he used to fuck from time to time. At first, you agreed to do it because you wanted to help him. Not because you were a healer, but because Hvitserk, your best friend, was worried about his baby brother after his tremendous failure with Margrethe. You taught Ivar how to please a woman and showed him that he was much more whole than he thought. You then kept sleeping with him because sex was great, Ivar a skilled and fast learner. Yet, there was no real bond, no love between the two of you; just some kind of mutual respect, tinged with an undeniable physical attraction. 

 "My Prince?" You ask softly, your hands ghosting over his thighs as you kneel down in front of him. "May I?" Remembering Una's words – this leg is so broken, so twisted, I do not know how the prince can manage walking, but I do know its iron equipment is like a torture device which causes him an unbearable amount of pain – you gesture first toward the metal armor encaging his right leg.

 Ivar barely nods, a long sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes shut. You never did it. Back then, you weren't allowed to. But today is different. Ivar is tired, in pain, and you're not his occasional lover, but a healer. There's no hesitation in your movements; your skillful hands undoing the loops of the brace, you're working fast. Soon, you're able to carefully remove the heavy contraption, and then give your full attention to his left leg. 

 When both his legs are free, you stand up, "Can you take off your pants, my Prince?" and step away, rummaging around the room for a water bucket and a cloth. Actually, you want to give him some privacy. You never really saw his legs and are aware it's a huge matter of concern for him. Once again, you remember what Una told you – I usually work under the furs – and add without turning around, "And please, cover your legs with as many furs as you can, we need to keep them warm." 

 ***

 After making sure his legs are well covered, you grab the cloth Ivar used to clean his hands and face, placing it on a nearby table, next to the water bucket. You then put your supplies in your pouch before turning towards the prince. Eyes closed, his head on a fluffy pillow – the perks of being a prince, you can't help but think, slightly jealous – Ivar seems completely relaxed. You're sure he's not sleeping, though, so you clear your throat while turning toward him. "If you don't need me anymore, my Prince, I'll go back to Una." 

 Ivar exhales slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He just looks at you without uttering a word for a long time, looking a little confused, as if he doesn't exactly remember your presence. He then gives you a small smile – his way of thanking you? – but shakes his head no. Something sparkles in his gaze and Ivar licks his bottom lip. You know him well enough to know that's the exact moment when his mood swings. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out in an attempt to grab your hand, but to no avail. He lets out a frustrated groan, but his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. "Come closer." Yet, you know you don't have a choice. Denying a prince is anything but a wise option; denying Prince Ivar could be life-threatening. 

 Taking two steps forward, you join the bed and place a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "What else can I do for you, my Prince?" 

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ivar pulls you toward him, leaving you no choice but to sit next to him. "Kiss me." He breathes, his blue orbs never leaving your eyes. 

 "Your wish is my command." You whisper while leaning forward to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips find his and Ivar immediately takes charge, a hand behind your neck. His tongue invades your mouth while his free hand slips under your dress, his thick fingers finding the bare skin of your thighs. You let out a gasp, surprised, and delighted. 

 This is new. 

 Back in Kattegat, whenever it was just the two of you, Ivar was always this insecure, tentative boy, eager to learn but clearly grateful that you were willing to take the lead. 

 He's no longer the same. War changed him. The boy has grown into a resolute man, who knows what he wants and who doesn't wait to take it. You won't lie: if you found the boy alluring, this – the warlord look, the confidence, the straight-to-the-point thing – is a whole new level of attractiveness. And a major turn-on.

 When Ivar deepens the kiss, fierce and hungry at once, he pulls you closer, your breasts pressed against his chiseled chest, you cannot help but arch your back as a wave of heat spreads in your belly.

 "Ivar…" You moan and he captures the sound in his mouth, delving deeper again while slipping a rough knuckle against your clit. You nearly choke, almost missing his next words. "Scoot closer." He mumbles, his lips against yours and you don't have to think twice about his demand as you are all too happy to surrender. Straddling him, you push him down onto his back and drive your tongue into his ear. The feeling of his solid, muscular torso between your thighs consumes your senses, a blinding heat coursing from between your legs to fill your entire body. You can't wait any longer. You need him. The craving of being filled up is almost unbearable but when you move your hand downward, your fingers grazing his erected cock, he stops you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I want to taste you first." 

 When he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs after you had moved up to sit on his face, you practically die and clamp your legs around his face, shoving your wet pussy into his mouth. Rewarded with a slap on your ass, you gasp in excitement as he slides a knuckle along your lips. It drives you so wild that you can barely breathe, and Ivar keeps going, his mouth just inches from your clit, drawing shapes around your sensitive skin, teasing you, blowing air into you. Heat is slowly building in your core, burning you inside. You curl your toes and contract your lower belly, panting and moaning, and suddenly, Ivar touches your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You almost lose it. Your whole body is about to break into a thousand pieces and you struggle, sucking in several short breaths. 

 "Gods…" Eyes closed, you shiver as Ivar picks up a rhythm. He knows exactly what he's doing. Barely moving his skilled tongue, he applies a warm pressure, each tiny move bringing you to the edge. It doesn't take long for your stomach to be drenched in sweat, and as much as you want to make this last forever, your entire body is taken over by a wave of spasms and pleasure and you explode in orgasm, biting your lip to keep from screaming. 

 Ivar doesn't give you time to settle down or to come to your senses, lifting his head, a cocky grin playing on his glistening lips. 

 "Ride me." He commands, his voice hoarse and loud as he pulls the cover off his groin. A wild laugh escapes your lips when you scoot downward, still on top of him, kissing his nipples, then his toned stomach; you find his cock hard under your fingers, your other hand massaging his balls. Without a warning, you plunge him into yourself, gasping as you feel his cock slide deep inside you. Leaning forward until your head is just above his, you kiss him hard before grounding your hips against his. You then pull up, all the way to his tip, constricting the muscles in your lower belly, and then push back down as far as you can. It sends a rippling wave along your inside walls and Ivar moans, his hands grabbing your ass. 

 As you pump your hips up and down, Ivar squirms beneath you, meeting each one of your thrusts, pushing his hips up as you speed up the pace. Back and forth, back and forth… You move your hips faster and faster, a drop of sweat trickling down your back. The rhythm is frantic now and you almost black out as you suddenly climax once again, Ivar groaning loudly while spreading his hot seed inside you. 

 You fall heavily onto him, sated and exhausted. "Gods, that was amazing!" You finally say, and Ivar chuckles, a smirk on his face. "It was, indeed." Wrapping his hand around your waist, he then does something surprisingly sweet, kissing your forehead tenderly. With your head resting on his tattooed chest, you just hum, and since your eyelids are getting heavy, you close them, sated and exhausted.

 You're dozing off as Hvitserk's voice outside the tent, startles you awake. "Y/N, you're still in there?"

 Sitting up in bed, you give Ivar a confused look while stretching out your upper body. "Yes." You want to ask why but Hvitserk doesn't give you the time. "Hurry up then! Una is looking for you."

 Sighing, you give Ivar a quick peck on the cheek and stand up hastily. "You heard your brother; I have to go." You give him one last look and are about to get out of the tent when his voice stops you. "Wait, Y/N."

 You turn around, and to your surprise, there's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord in front of you, but a boy, shy and insecure, who bites his bottom lip and lowers his gaze. The new Ivar turns you on, there's no denying it, but this one, the timid one, is absolutely adorable, and your heart flutters. You flash him a reassuring smile. Ivar inhales deeply, blinking a few times. "Will you…" He starts but stops immediately. 

 You raise a brow questioningly, but the moment is gone, his face now expressionless. Ivar just nods at you, his gaze steady as he gestures to his legs. "Thank you."

 You're sure that's not what he was going to tell you; that's not what you could read in his eyes. Will you come back later?

 Stifling a sigh, you straighten your dress as best you can. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. "You're welcome, my Prince." You say softly; and with that, you walk away, your mind filled with regret.

 You would have said yes.

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

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[prettywordsyouleft]

Something For You

Pairing: Jackson Wang x female reader

Genre: fluff / roommates to lovers

Warnings: implied nudity through bathing

Word count: 1855

Jackson couldn’t watch you hobble about in good conscience anymore. It had been going on for days now, and each time he saw you, it seemed that your legs were barely coping with the strenuous activity you were enduring.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him whenever he questioned your unusual gait, the grimace mixed in with your smile not convincing him in the slightest. You were definitely in pain, the gasps of air and the deliberate effort it took for you to get out of a chair only concerning him further.

He knew your office moving buildings was going to be exhausting, but Jackson wondered if you were doing too much. Had you not hired movers to lift the heavier items? Surely it would be cost-effective to employ manpower than run yourself past the point of no return.

Deciding he had to do something – anything – for you, Jackson stopped by a pharmacy on his way home. Armed with various muscle soaks and topical creams, he waited for you to return to the apartment you shared. Dinner was being served up when you made your way through the front door, struggling to get up the step into the living area.

Shaking his head, Jackson came over and helped you before clucking his tongue at you. “Enough, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“You need to rest.”

“There’s one more day of-”

“You won’t survive another day of this,” he pointed out, and your gaze lowered knowingly. Jackson sighed before pushing a smile onto his lips. “I cooked dinner.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Were you going to stand here after doing all you have today and fix yourself something nutritious?” he wondered, and your brief look in his direction confirmed his suspicions. “Ramen is not going to help you recover back your energy!”

“Thank you,” you mentioned as you allowed him to help you over to the table where a pasta dish sat waiting. It took you some angling of your body before you managed to sit down comfortably enough, and then you eyed the food with interest. “Woah, you went all out!”

“Hardly. Maybe I need to cook more often around here if you think this pasta dish is me putting on a good display of my cooking skills,” he boasted, and you giggled, a sound he hadn’t heard from you all week. It fuelled Jackson on, ensuring you spent the meal smiling the whole time. Although you had only been housemates for a short period of time, you were special to him. And after you had helped him get over a cold last month, watching you suffer now made him determined to return the favour.

It also just pained him far too much as a fellow human to see you struggle.

After dinner, you headed into your bedroom, and Jackson waited twenty minutes before launching into phase two. He started running you a bath, adding a generous amount of the muscle soak to the water. The bubbles overfilled the tub, and he was satisfied with how inviting it looked.

Knocking gently on your door, Jackson then entered your space, finding you at your desk, slumping over your laptop with evident distress from how much your back hurt. Jackson came to your side and shut the lid down. “I said rest!”

“Jackson! I have to find some time to work too!”

“Not tonight. You’ve done enough.”

“I’m too sore to go to bed and sleep right now,” you mumbled in response, and he nodded, helping you to your feet.

“I know, which is why I did something for you.”

You glanced at him curiously. “What?”

“Come with me,” he urged, helping you into the bathroom and the pointed to his efforts.

However, your reaction wasn’t what he had hoped for. “Oh. A bath.”

“I stopped by a pharmacy and picked you up a muscle soak,” he explained and whilst your eyes flashed with gratitude, you still didn’t seem overwhelmed. Perhaps you were too tired to show such emotion.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy it. Make sure you stay in there until the water cools off!” he enthused, shutting the door behind himself.

Jackson hoped it would relieve some of the tension.

The following morning over breakfast, Jackson eyed you carefully. You seemed to be ambling along with a little more ease, and this brightened his mood tremendously. You had gone to bed right after the bath last night, so he didn’t have a chance to ask if it helped until now.

You glanced up at him and smiled awkwardly. “I mean, it helped. Thank you.”

“Why do I sense a but in there?” he asked cautiously, and you bit at your bottom lip. “Did I overstep my boundaries as a housemate?”

“Oh no!” you gushed, waving your hands about dismissively. “It’s just… I don’t really have baths.”

“Ah.”

“It’s nothing traumatic, so don’t worry. I’m touched you thought to help me as you did. I don’t understand the concept of baths, though. I mean, what do you exactly do in them?”

Jackson frowned. “Well, you lay there and relax.”

“You and I both know I don’t know how to do that well,” you replied with a chuckle, shaking your head softly. “I sat there, and for a bit it was nice, but then my brain got bored with laying there and I started to overthink about things. How long do you wait it out?”

Jackson stared at you for a moment in silence, and then a snort left him. It was followed by a loud bout of laughter until he had to hold onto his side and try to calm himself down when he noticed your arched eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard anyone complain about how to take a bath before.”

“Well, my points make some sense. You see in the movies everyone is covered and soaking with pure happiness, drinking wine or reading a book. I don’t drink wine, and wouldn’t the book get wet if you lay down to cover yourself properly? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as those in movies. I definitely had to move around to keep parts of my body that were exposed warm in there.”

“You’re serious.”

“Completely,” you responded, and Jackson’s humour eased. He hadn’t ever thought about it. He had just taken a bath when his body required it and not really contemplated what it would be like for others.

“So it didn’t help you at all?” he wondered, slightly dejected. He had hoped you would feel better from it.

You sighed heavily. “That’s the problem I’m faced with. It did. My legs didn’t hurt as much to get out of bed this morning. So I guess I now need to learn how to enjoy a bath until I feel better.”

“I can help you,” he offered, and you cocked your head to the side with his words. Jackson grinned. “Not physically. But maybe I can give you some distractions to allow the soak time to not end in a rumination session.”

“Really?”

“Sure. If it’s helped even a little, it’s worth trying again, right?”

That night, you came home and had a bath. Jackson had recommended you listen to a podcast during the session, and it appeared you lasted longer in there. The following day, you had another and mentioned after that you had played with the bubbles for a bit as you once had as a child.

You seemed more relaxed within the bathtub.

And your legs, once swollen and hard to maneuver, were starting to look better from what he could tell. Jackson was pleased his efforts had helped with some of the recovery.

You smiled brightly at him when he returned home from work the next evening. Jackson gaped at you and then back at the door. “Since when do you beat me home from work?”

“Since I listened to your advice and took the afternoon off. And I had another bath.”

He smirked. “I thought you weren’t a bath person?”

“Well, that muscle soak really helped ease the pain. I figured it was worth getting through my discomfort if it meant I could function again.”

“So I did something right by you?”

“Don’t you always? You’re the best housemate I’ve ever had,” you told him genuinely, and Jackson was surprised that your compliment made his stomach erupt in flutters.

Blinking several times, he wondered if there was more to how special you were to him now.

“I’m going to run you a bath. I need to do something for you!”

Jackson chuckled heartily as he slowly moved through the house. It was ironic how years ago he had been the one to convince you of the magic in relaxation for your aching body in the bathtub. Now, he didn’t even have to say much to hear the tub filling up regularly. You poked your head around the corner of the bedroom door and grinned at him. “I put a lot of muscle soak in. I thought you said you were fit.”

“I didn’t realise that playing tennis against a pro would hurt this much,” Jackson lamented, and you pouted, walking towards him and reaching out for the bottom of his sports tee, lifting it over his head as gently as you could.

Jackson hissed as his shoulders dropped too quickly, and the pain seared again.

“You poor baby,” you cooed, and Jackson nodded, relishing in the special care you were giving him in his time of need.

It was out of compassion that the pair of you had gone from housemates to something more intimate. He had helped you when you suffered from pain moving office, and then you helped him when he got stressed out. With each time that you did something for the other, you grew closer, and soon it was at a level where you loved on each other through the hardships and highlights that life threw at you both.

Just as right now, your adoration was evident as you led Jackson down to the bathroom.

He eased into the tub with several groans, and you ran your hand repeatedly through his hair, hoping to relax him further. It was working, as was the muscle soak on his weary body.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked, and Jackson nodded once. “What do you need?”

“You.”

“I’m right here.”

Jackson nodded towards the bathtub. “It’s big enough for us both to share.”

“You are sore,” you pointed out and rolled your eyes when he pouted dramatically. “Seriously?”’

“I’m sure I’ll feel much better with your comfort in here with me.”

“Are you after a massage, Jackson Wang?”

He grinned. “That would be nice.”

“I’ll make sure you pay me back when it’s my next bout of body issues,” you warned as you started to strip off your clothes, stepping into the tub and moving close enough so you could work on the knots in his shoulders.

Jackson stared at you for a moment before shifting close enough to reach your lips, kissing you passionately. When he pulled away, Jackson smiled up at you. “I like baths better when they’re with you.”

_________________

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[jonnyparable]

Cottage Hills : The Red Chamber Part V

The Manuscript of Nehemiah

With all his magical ingredients and apparatus back in his possession, and the manuscript in his hands, Won can finally accomplish the work that he came here to do, since he arrived last year. But what is this manuscript? What's written in it and why did Won come all this way to get it ?

Won:

"At long last! The manuscript of Nehemiah, grand patriarch of the Moshus! I've come all this way, and now, thanks to you, Moguai, I finally have it! Now we can make these thieves pay for what they've done to my family!"

Moguai:

"Now that the manuscript of your great ancestor, Nehemiah is back where it belongs, in the hands of a Moshu, you can finally right the wrong that was done to your ancestors all those centuries ago. The manuscript was written by Nehemiah himself. And contains his very own recipe for making the most lethal potion in the world, the Black Cup. Better known as Death in a Bottle..."

Won:

"These fools may have the Golden Cup, which will protect them from lesser poisons, but even the Golden Flower's powers are useless against the finality of cold, brutal, instant death! "

The Next Day...

Old Acquaintances

As mid autumn rolls around, the town is busy preparing for the annual Mid Autumn Hotpot at the square, when who should come by the Cooper Farm but old friends, Eva and Oak, the scientists who saved Rod's life in the Simalayas last winter. He introduces them to his family, and catches them up on the miraculous happenings after his return to town.

Rod:

"Eva! Oak! You've come! Meet my wife and son. This is Lillia, and Rick."

Eva:

"Hello Tiger Spirit! It is wonderful to see you again. Your hometown is beautiful, like you said. Nice to finally meet you Lillia. We have heard much about you from Rod. We've come bearing gifts today. As promised, we come with medicine, made from the Golden Flower, which your husband found, but in an act of true nobility, gave to us. We are here to repay that debt"

Rod:

"Thank you, friends, but there is no need. As you can see, Lillia is well now. By some miracle, I believe the Goddess came to me in a dream, and planted the flower in my garden! Our local healer was able to use it to make a cure after all!"

Oak:

"My! That is tremendous news indeed! You are indeed very blessed! We must meet this healer!"

Rod:

"Of course! I shall bring you to see her later. For now, let me show you around the town! The Mayor would probably like to meet you too."

The Return of You-Know-Who

At Rose Square the mayor is currently overseeing preparations for the annual Mid Autumn Hotpot tomorrow as villagers help to set up the large iron pot and put up the lights and decorations. Every year, the townsfolk gather in the square and everyone brings an ingredient to add to the hot pot, followed by a hike up the mountain to see the full moon. The preparations are interrupted by Harris, who's come to tell everyone to stop.

Harris:

"Alright, listen up everyone. After the strange fire last night at the constabulary, Ellen was found unconscious in the church, and is currently recovering in the clinic. We have reason to believe that these are not isolated incidents and that You-know-who has returned. It is therefore unwise to go ahead with such gatherings. As such, everyone is advised to return to your homes for your safety immediately. Thank you everyone."

Mayor Thomas :

"Now, hold on a minute, son. I understand you're just being cautious but there's no need to make everyone panic. After all, there's no proof that any of this has to do with you-know-who, and-"

Harris :

"Father, with all due respect, the villager's safety is of the utmost importance. Until You-know-who is found, he will pose a constant threat to the town and I- We, must always be vigilant."

Just then, in the midst of their heated discussion, Rod arrives and introduces Eva and Oak. The Mayor, glad for the interruption, asks them to stay for tomorrow night's festivities, as the rest of the villagers continue with their preparations.

Mayor Thomas:

"Ah! So you are Rod's friends from the mountain! Rod has told us so much about you! Well, you two are heroes! And dear friends of the town! If you have no pressing matters to attend to, you simply must stay as our honoured guests and attend the festival tomorrow! The moon this autumn is particularly round, a very good omen!"

Harris:

"Father, please, I must insist that -"

Mayor Thomas:

"Alright, that's quite enough son. Your pursuit of Won has become a bit of an obsession of late, I must say. I think the villagers have had enough of all this you-know-who business and fear-mongering, when its clear that he's gone, and he's not coming back. The Goddess clearly watches over us! We must believe and never give in to fear! After all, He hasn't been seen for a year now, and the Goddess has blessed us with the Golden Cup, what's the worse you-know-who can do now even if he does return? "

Harris:

"Father! This isn't about fear! Have you forgotten what he did to us, and how much suffering he caused last year? Yes we are lucky to have the Golden Cup, but I'm duty bound to protect our town. Just because we've been unable to find him, doesn't mean he's gone. What if he's the one who hurt Ellen? "

Rod:

"Hurt her? What happened to Ellen?"

Harris:

"Last night she was found unconscious in the church. We don't know the exact reason why, but she's being examined by Dr. Tim as we speak...poor Ellen...how could all this happen in one night? "

Mayor Thomas:

"... Nobody blames you for what happened , you know... I know you mean well but.. "

Harris:

"At any rate, this festival cannot go on, its too risky, and..."

Mayor Thomas and Harris continue to disagree, and as Eva and Oak look into the serene face of the Goddess Statue behind them, they exchange concerned expressions. They have no idea who Harris and Mayor Thomas are talking about, but whoever he is, he seems to have the townspeople all worked up. They've come just in the nick of time it seems...

That Night...

The Autumn Moon

Back in You-Know-Who's hideout, Won is putting together the deadly ingredients for the Black Cup, and as he waits for the most important ingredient, he and Moguai discuss their diabolical plans.

Moguai:

"In the hot pot? Surely you jest."

Won:

"Not at all! It's perfect! Every autumn, these fools gather at the square and they all share from a pot of broth, laughing and cajoling and merry-making. It's the most vile thing I've ever seen, honestly. Pass me that bottle of newt's eyes, will you? They're probably making preparations for it as we speak. Now that we've gotten rid of that meddling Elmsley hag, this will be a breeze! I'll just freeze time long enough to add just a few drops of the Black Cup into their pot and...well, dinner is served!"

Moguai:

"Yes that's all well and good, but are you sure you have everything you need to make the Black Cup? The festival is tomorrow is it not?"

Won:

"Oh, yes, Moguai, yes we do. Not to worry. We have just enough to make one, which is all we need for now. As we speak, the last ingredient is on its way. Look up there, we have by act of providence, the biggest full moon we've seen in years this autumn equinox! When it reaches its highest point in the sky, I will call on its power to complete the potion! Sweet revenge is mine at long last!"

A Lamb to Slaughter

Meanwhile, Zack begins to worry about Olkan again. With a moon this big out, it seems Olkan's transformations are becoming longer and more violent. Zack goes out looking for him, just to make sure he's alright and not causing trouble. This time, however, he seems to have strayed a little far from their home in the wrong direction, and has stumbled into a strange part of the woods that he does not recognise. He sees some strange totems hanging in between two rocks. Unfamiliar with their significance, and drawn by curiosity, he walks through them...

As a Servo, Won's wards of concealment have no effect on him and he's able to just slip through, and Won's hideout is laid bare before him. Poor Zack soon stumbles upon Won and Moguai, and can't believe what he's hearing. He overhears Won talking about what they did to Ellen, and about his plans to somehow kill everyone in town by putting a lethal poison in the town's hot pot tomorrow! As Zack tries to override his panic function and execute his focusing program, so he can think about what to do next, he realises that they've stopped talking, and an eerie, suffocating silence hangs in the air...

Moguai:

"Hush! Someone has slipped through your wards. I smell a rat.... There! Below! He's heard us! Seize him!"

Zack turns to run, back to town to try and warn someone, anyone, and to tell them what Won is up to. But he doesn't get very far...

Moguai:

"And just where do you think you're going?"

[journalxxx]

Repetita Iuvant

The room was almost perfectly quiet. The barely audible buzzing of the medical equipment and the occasional squawk of a bird outside were the only noises Izuku had heard in probably hours. The chair creaked when he moved, his shoes squeaked on the white floor. He had already grown used to the pungent smell of disinfectant. No one had come to check on either of them in a while. There was nothing whatsoever to distract him from his thoughts and from the enormity of the consequence that his recklessness could have had- could still have.

How very obvious All For One's plan had been, in hindsight. Driving Izuku to drive himself to the brink of exhaustion and to detach himself from any semblance of support. Sending few lone agents first to inflict some physical chip damage and a much more substantial amount of psychological warfare. Leading him to walk, alone and unprepared and worn-out, straight into the real trap.

Even without Endeavor's fire propulsion or the perceptive wings of the hero who was always just a little too fast, All Might had been the first one to reach the fight. Izuku knew that his words weren't going to dissuade him from trying to follow his student, but he'd thought he could manage to outspeed him, to keep the danger just a little ahead of him at every turn. How arrogant and simple-minded.

All Might hadn't wasted a second. With what little combat gear he had at hand, he had immediately provided cover fire and diversion, dodging and hiding and inching his way towards Izuku as the horde of strategically placed snipers and brawlers kept him too busy to track his mentor's approach.  All Might, who, Todoroki had told him, even after losing every last ounce of his power, had once unhesitatingly thrown himself in harm's way to protect a wandering bystander from collateral damage. All Might, who had once again thrown himself in harm's way to protect his disgraceful successor from a potentially lethal blow.  Izuku had recognized the villain who had charged forwards. There were two whole pages about him on one of his old notebooks, probably number 7 or 8. A convict with a sunlight-fuelled power-enhancing quirk who had regained his freedom during one of the many breakouts following Tartarus' fall, a villain that All Might himself had brought to justice a few years back. Izuku had seen the cruel grin on the criminal's face when he had realized who his attack had landed on. Izuku had seen the sadistic glint in his eyes as he instantly stopped caring about the target of the operation in order to exact his revenge on his captor, and started pummelling the frail, stumbling figure savagely. Caught in the crossfire of the battle, it had taken Izuku ninety seconds to separate the rampaging brute from his victim. Ninety seconds was a tremendously long time in the raging frenzy of a battlefield. The sight of All Might's bloodied, battered, unconscious form was the last clear memory Izuku retained of the whole accident. After that, it was a blurry sequence of hits, dodges, movement, explosions, noise, made even more chaotic by the arrival of other heroes. After that, a mad dash to the nearest hospital. After that... Time. Nothing but time, hours and hours, with the sole company of his regrets. Endeavor, of all people, had had a few words for Izuku when he had reached the hospital as well. Not very heartfelt or unexpected ones, but undeniably warranted. Endeavor, who was just about the most unsociable, standoffish and selfish hero in the industry, and an unspeakable parent and husband to boot. Endeavor, who nonetheless had opened up his own agency, had sidekicks, subordinates, support, a proper network of associates, and was demonstrably not above accepting help when he obviously needed it. Not even Endeavor could have messed up so badly. Hawks had just shaken his head and spared Izuku any tirades, for the time being. He had kept watch, and later said that Recovery Girl was on her way. Izuku had genuinely no idea how many hours (days?) had passed since All Might had been admitted to the hospital. He had let some doctors examine his own wounds, done whatever he was told to do and answered whatever question he was asked with the most appropriate monosyllable. He had slept, not by choice but probably because of some medicine someone gave him at some point. He had washed and put on some fresh clothes provided by Jeanist. He had eaten, barely. He had waited. Stared at walls. Paced. Let his brain dissect in every detail the harrowing series of unforgivable blunders that had led to the current situation. Despite the doctors' initial opposition, they had allowed Izuku to enter All Might's room after Hawks had interceded. The noticeble lack of reassurances about the man's conditions had worried him, but, unlike in Nighteye's case, no one had warned him of his impending demise either, which was as good a sign as he was going to get. Since then, no one had showed up to tell him to leave, so he hadn't. He had tried to be rational about it, at first. He had analyzed the fact that All For One's goons seemed hell bent on taking advantage of All Might's weak point. The first noumu had done it, Wolfram had done it, the latest assailant had done it as well, if the extensive dressing covering the entirety of All Might's left side was of any indication. It was wicked and cowardly, but it was also a bit of a blessing in disguise. Most of his vital organs in that area had long since been eradicated, and it stood to reason that any damage on the opposite side, for example to All Might's sole remaining lung, would be more likely to prove deadly. He hoped his foes would never get that memo. He noted how scattered All Might's injuries were and reflected that, if the villain had focussed all those hits and raw strength on the hero's head alone, he would have turned it into mincemeat in a matter of seconds. As it stood, most of All Might's head was unscathed, with some padded bandaging covering about a third of his face, but relatively little damage to the cranial lid itself. Another instance of cruelty turning to their advantage, Izuku guessed. Unfortunately, instead of getting used to the sight of his mentor's wrecked body, Izuku was only finding it more and more distressing as time went by. There were too many bandages, too many tubes and machines and cables laid out around and all over him. He was too pale, his features too sunken, his appearance too similar to a corpse, his chest rising too shallowly with each breath to give him any measure of comfort. Izuku crumpled forwards in his chair, hands in his hair, face resolutely pointed at the floor, unable to stand the sight any longer. He was gutless, unworthy and criminally short-sighted. One For All probably shared that sentiment, since he hadn't heard a peep from any of the vestiges since the fight. He resumed, for the millionth time, revisiting the events of the last months, letting guilt engulf him like a poisonous cloud. He was snapped out of his reverie by a fierce grip on his wrist, and the sudden blaring of one of the machines. His heart jumped in his throat and he looked up to see All Might reaching out to him with his good hand, awake and tense, rushed breaths fogging the oxygen mask he was wearing.  Izuku's eyes flew back and forth between the man and the beeping monitor. Was he reading it correctly? A heart rate spike? Something worse? All Might was definitely awake, but not altogether... there. He had a haunted, distant expression that made Izuku's stomach constrict painfully.  "All Might?" He called, utterly failing to suppress his increasing dread. He tried to pry his teacher's hand away from his arm so that he could run and alert someone, but those bony fingers clawed him with such strength that no man in his condition had any right to have. "What's wrong?" The question seemed to help him get his bearings, somehow. Tension became confusion as All Might's gaze roamed all over Izuku, then the room, then what little he could see of himself from his lying position. Eventually the confusion waned too and exhaustion took its place as he closed his eyes and ventured a few deeper breaths.  Izuku tentatively stood up, but All Might, despite loosening his iron grip, didn't let go of him.  "Are you in pain? Shall I call someone?" He asked, still frazzled. A negative nod. As if in agreement, the monitor spontaneously ceased beeping. Izuku felt as if any decision-making ability he had ever possessed had been crushed alongside his mentor's limbs. Should he call someone, just to be sure? Weren't they monitoring patients remotely anyway? Should he- All Might opened his eyes again, and met Izuku's. The light that normally brightened them, a flame that had nothing to do with quirks and that Izuku had thought inextinguishable, was subdued and meek. It made the boy's breath catch in his throat. "I-I'm..." He couldn't say it. Apologies couldn't cut it, not this time. There were no words that could even begin to atone for the catastrophe he had nearly caused, for the pain he knew he had inflicted to the one person that had always, unerringly trusted him. His traitorous eyes burned and his vision blurred. Izuku squeezed them and bit his lip, hard. He would not cry. He didn't have the right to, especially not after months spent playing the stoic vigilante, and it was a damnable weakness he should have weaned off long ago, and All Might barely tolerated it in the first place. All Might tugged at his arm. He was regarding him gently now, with that deep warmth that one never expected to match those haggard features of his. He pulled again, until Izuku returned to the chair and scooted a little closer to the bed, close enough for All Might to move his hand to the boy's hair.  "It's okay." All Might finally spoke. His voice was disturbingly different from his usual stentorean timbre, like the rumbling thunder of a distant storm even when it was at its lowest. There was a breathless, wispy quality to his tone now, and long pauses stretching between each sentence he uttered. "It's okay to cry... I should have told you... a long time ago..." Izuku's throat clenched painfully. There was so much he had to say and explain and apologize for, so much he had to tell him, but he couldn't. He couldn't. A pitiful whimper escaped him as he brought his own hand to cover All Might's. To stop him and pull it away, or to grasp it and hold it closer, he didn't even know. "Repeat after me." All Might said in English with that odd accent of his that didn't quite sound as natural as an American's, but that nonetheless seemed to roll off his tongue so easily. Those words hit Izuku almost physically, summoning a memory of roaring waves under a starry sky, of a joyful run along an immaculate beach in a time when the future looked so much brighter, and so much more hopeful. "It's okay to cry." "...It's. Okay. To cry-" Izuku managed to force out haltingly, and suddenly it was as if a dam broke inside him. Gross sobs escaped him uncontrollably, making him gasp aloud and flinch beneath his mentor's calm gaze as some part of him took those words in stride with frightening promptness. "Don't push yourself too hard." All Might was smiling now, of all things. Where he found the strength, the will, the reason to smile so softly at him here, now, Izuku had no idea. It took the boy a few moments to realize that the hero was still expecting him to reply. "Don't push yourself too hard." He echoed shakily. He thought of Musutafu, of the USJ, of Kamino. He wondered to whom, exactly, these words were aimed at. He abandoned that line of thought immediately.  "You deserve to rest." "You deserve-" He stopped. He could not say those words, not like this. It sounded way too much like a farewell, like a request for a parting blessing. Which was unthinkable, because All Might had vowed to keep on living and he would never go back on it. But Izuku's mind conjured notions of eternal rest, tragic visions that may or may not come to pass, irredeemable mistakes- All Might's hand slid away from under Izuku's. The same hand that had once shattered buildings, created whirlwinds, held an entire nation's hope in its raised fist, trailed down Izuku's temple with unimaginable tenderness. It cupped the boy's cheek in its palm, it wiped away stray tears with its thumb. All Might mouthed something, more of an exhale than actual words, that Izuku couldn't quite catch over the sound of his own gasps.  "You deserve to rest." The boy finished. All Might was still smiling, more serene that Izuku had seen him in months. "Let's talk more later, hm?" He sighed as he closed his eyes, his hand slowly falling back on the bed. Izuku clasped it back between his own in an instant, panic flaring up in his gut all over again, fearing the unthinkable.  But the equipment kept buzzing quietly and undisturbed, the birds kept squawking, his chair kept creaking and his shoes kept squeaking. He focussed on the firm pulse beating under his fingertips, for as long as it took for his own mind to still.

[bipabrena]

Change x and x Request (HisoIllu fic)

A fic where Hisoka is left comatose after battling the Phantom Troupe in the Black Whale. He’s beyond saving and there’s no Nen contract to save him a second time, all that’s keeping him alive is a constant aura supply from Illumi. Thinking of ways to save him, Illumi’s mind goes to her. For the first time, he sees Nanika as someone, not something. But he knows she and Killua have no reason to want to help him. He can only hope they will.

Read the whole thing here.

X

Illumi’s needlemen had set up a small but solid hospital room in the building. Not too many people lived in it, and it was in a strategic location. Several doctors from the most prestigious hospitals in the city came and went.

But, regardless of how many came or how hard they worked, they all arrived to the same conclusion: Hisoka was beyond saving.

Every day that passed, the comatose Hisoka withered away further.

It was then Illumi accessed the Hunters’ Tavern and found several doctors with Nen-based abilities. He brought them all forth within the course of a week, but all they could do was prolong the inevitable.

He was meticulous and careful to hide his tracks and hire them under names and details that’d make his true identity untraceable.

Illumi was not worried about his concurrent actions having consequences.

The talented doctors had given up, insisted they couldn’t save Hisoka, but Illumi wouldn’t have that. He’d stuck his needles in them and forced them to continue working, until they died of overexertion, just like all his needlemen did.

In the end, all he accomplished was the raking of bodies.

He disposed of them all, until his only choice was to share his Nen with Hisoka’s comatose body.

It was the one way to prolong the inevitable.

The only solution didn’t come to him until all alternatives had been explored.

It took him five days to gather enough Intel, with the limited tools he had, to find Killua’s phone number.

Naturally so, Killua had changed it along with all his details to completely sever ties with his family. It’s what made him hard to find, but Illumi didn’t give up, not even with his limited tools.

From all the Zoldycks, he’d always been the best at tailing and figuring out the way people clicked—how they worked, how they thought. Ironically so, considering his total lack of social skills outside of assassination.

He would’ve had better success if he’d just gone home, but he couldn’t afford it.

If he left this room, if he relocated or stopped sharing his aura with Hisoka, he’d die within minutes.

He impassively stared at his unconscious, withering frame. He approached him.

He sighed so quietly it was nearly imperceptible, and stopped by his bedside. He nonchalantly looked at Hisoka.

The burns, the cuts, the wounds.

While the Troupe split up to find him, what Hisoka truly wanted was to have them all in one room.

His resurrection had succeeded, but it’d left him wounded. His hand, his nose, his foot. They were superficial. He’d received an aura boost, but he was still handicapped. The replacements were solid enough, at least. For a while.

He was sure he wouldn’t be able to take on all the Spiders, and even if he did, he’d die soon after.

It was either receiving medical attention at once, healing, then wait for his chance to find them all again in the uncertain future, or fight them at once by not missing the chance of them being together in the Black Whale.

Hisoka prioritised his wounded pride.

And so, with his own strength and boosted Nen, his mental state heightened to its utmost limits, and unknowingly created a condition.

Even though he was slowly dying, he was adamant about surviving long enough to kill the Phantom Troupe, and to leave Chrollo for last. His senses, his physical abilities and speed stretched beyond their peak.

His resolve is what made his Nen exceedingly strong. But it also created a limitation: his full potential and beyond would be unleashed only with the Troupe. And he could only do it once.

And, if he overdid it, he may not come back from it.

He was lucky he’d hired Illumi.

However, the pretence of joining the Troupe to kill him was only that: a pretence. The real reason he’d hired him was so he could take Kalluto away so he wouldn’t get caught in the fight.

What Hisoka hadn’t counted on was Illumi risking his life to fight alongside him.

It’d stunned and worried Hisoka. Despite being a terrifying monster, it was still instinctive for him to worry about Illumi’s safety. But the look on Chrollo’s face when Illumi unexpectedly appeared, and sent Shizuku’s and Bonolenov’s heads flying, had turned him on so much he popped a boner on the spot.

It had been done so cleanly not a drop of blood was on Illumi’s three inch claws, and the other Troupe members could only stare in shock.

Seeing Illumi fight at full power was something Hisoka never thought he would witness, but he did—and he creamed his pants once, perhaps twice, from the sight alone.

Illumi had gotten injured, but it was nothing he couldn’t heal with his needles until he received real medical assistance.

The fight had been strenuous. It destroyed a large part of the Black Whale, but not enough to completely sink it. It was still functional, but there was damage, and amongst it collateral.

With Bonolenov and Shizuku down, the match-ups had been the following:

Hisoka vs Machi, Feitan and Chrollo.

Illumi vs Franklin, Nobunaga and Phinks.

In theory, it wasn’t good that Illumi had been stuck with two Enhancers, but considering his usual fighting style, it required distance to be created, and so it gave the Enhancers, Nobunaga and Phinks, few chances to land hits on him.

Illumi was more of a hit-and-run when fighting Enhancers. An appropriate style.

Because Franklin was an Emitter and his ability was more gravitated towards crowd control, such as the auction, he couldn’t freely use his ability. Illumi was too fast, and he could risk injuring some of the Troupe members. And so, he was forced to instead rely on direct hand-to-hand combat, which Illumi was far more proficient at.

At one point, Chrollo was forced to abandon Hisoka to aid those three with Illumi. He’d proven to be stronger than they’d anticipated.

Because he was an assassin, they’d greatly underestimated his duel abilities.

Illumi had a spectacular dominion of Ko, Ken, Gyo and Ryu. These abilities were usually perfected by Enhancers, since they did not require Hatsus, but it still stood that other Nen categories could perfect these techniques as well—the matter was that they often preferred to rely on their powers.

Illumi didn’t.

Not even Hisoka knew that.

Illumi was capable of using his category to the fullest, but he was also a level six at Enhancement, which put him on par with Franklin, the Emitter, and Phinks and Nobunaga, the Enhancers.

Nobunaga was very skilled in battle, but was not as physically strong as expected of an Enhancer. He was relatively weak, as even Machi exceeded him in physical strength. And so, Illumi far outshined him in this field. Phinks, on the other hand, was physically stronger than Illumi by a large margin, but he wasn’t a proficient hand-to-hand combatant. Though tremendously strong, he was above all a brawler, while Illumi had solid techniques.

This realisation made Hisoka moan mid-battle in sheer delight. Illumi truly was full of surprises.

When Chrollo joined, however, the problems started.

The range of abilities he had was insane.

But that was completely okay. Because Illumi had counted on this. Expertly, he and Hisoka switched places multiple times, and had alternated targets, so Illumi faced Machi and Feitan, too.

Their teamwork was splendid, natural. It flowed beautifully.

Hisoka had never had more fun in his life.

He completely forgot about his pride and revenge, and instead allowed himself to just feel, to revel on the moment of fighting such monsters alongside a more lethal monster. Illumi, the one person he’d always dreamed of fighting, and had been eager to see fight with his full strength.

At one point, Illumi managed to sever Machi’s left arm. As soon as he aimed for her heart, Feitan thought fast and Illumi barely avoided his Ko powered sword.

When Illumi lured them into the position he wanted, he screamed it.

“Do it now, Kallu!”

It’d brought all of their attentions for a split second.

Two rooms away, it’s when Kalluto had opened the gate, and three hundred needlemen filled the room in the blink of an eye.

In that split second of confusion, Illumi bolted to Hisoka and grabbed him.

Thinking fast, Hisoka stuck Bungee Gum to the ceiling to repel both himself and Illumi into the second floor.

“It’s fitting, don’t you think?” is what Illumi had told Hisoka when the stunned redhead stared down at the needlemen swarm the Troupe members.

At that moment, never had Hisoka wanted to fuck Illumi so savagely in his life.

For him to bring hundreds of needlemen to swarm Chrollo and his Spiders, the same way Chrollo’s puppets had done Hisoka, was so poetic and fitting that Hisoka could only laugh.

He’d made a joke here and there on just how many needles Illumi had brought.

And that’s when things changed.

When a light slowly rose to the ceiling, Hisoka and Illumi could only watch in confusion. They were only brought back by Kalluto, who screamed through the Zoldyck transmitter.

He’d been that day on the Meteor City raid. He knew of Feitan’s Pain Packer.

He’d desperately screamed at Illumi to get out of there as he hastily explained what that powerful light was, what it would turn into once it expanded.

Illumi had a final trick up his sleeve with his needlemen, but before he could verbalise it to Hisoka to ease him, he’d been wrapped in Bungee Gum and thrown out of the room. Before he could stand up to rush in again, the gate had been shut, with what he could only assume was Bungee Gum.

That’s when the explosion happened.

The needlemen served as cushions for the immense heat, and so Feitan took advantage of this. One of Chrollo’s ability’s also shielded them, but what they didn’t count on was the imbued explosives on two hundred of the three hundred needlemen that were swarming them and cutting their oxygen supply.

By the time Rising Sun deactivated, the only survivors had been Chrollo, Machi and Phinks. And they were mortally wounded.

When Illumi managed to tear down the door, he was worried.

He did it with ease, unlike his previous attempts. That meant it wasn’t being held together by Bungee Gum anymore.

Illumi could only hope for the worst.

He’d gone to—

A strong rumble in his stomach distracted him from his reminiscing. Illumi’s mind went blank as he momentarily forgot about the events in the Black Whale, and he recalled he hadn’t eaten in five days.

Not like he could anyway. Leaving this room meant Hisoka would die.

He sighed softly.

It was a strange feeling. Expending so much of his aura, transferring it to someone else was an uncomfortable, somewhat burning feeling. It felt much like when a doctor drew blood from their patient—that little burning feeling, except that multiplied manifold times, and he felt it all over his body.

He grabbed his phone.

Read the rest here.

[thiswasinevitableid]

A fun, potentially spooky prompt for Halloween season based on something you wrote in “Amnesty Records”: “Like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you.” Something to the theme of Little Monsters from 1989? Indruck and NSFW if you please?

This is indeed NSFW, and also came to me all in one burst.

Duck pulls the Captain Planet comforter up to his chin, sighing as he lays down. He turned seven today, and has been spoiled and fussed over. Mama Newton isn’t much of an entertainer, but she knows how to throw a birthday party. 

 A scrape  of nails on the floor and the rustle of something under his bed makes him freeze. 

“Taco, that you?”

When the cat doesn't appear, he sinks further under the covers.

“Mom?”

“No”  soft voice with a bit of hiss drifts up from under the bed.

He swallows, “Who’re you?”

“My name is Indrid. I live under your bed.”

“No you don’t, you weren’t there last night.”

“How do you know?”

“Just do. So go away.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna call my dad.”

“He won’t believe you” the bed frame rattles, “he will tell you to be a big boy.”

The monster is right, just yesterday dad was saying how proud he was of Duck being brave at the doctor. Fine, maybe if he pretends it’s not there, it’ll go away. 

“....aren't you going to cry?”

“No.” He sets his shoulders, glares at his wall.

“....not even a little?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A sigh, “I am not very good at this.”

Duck didn’t know monsters could be sad.

“Are, uh, are you a grown-up monster?”

“No. I am young and little, like you. They would not send a grown-up monster to a child, they send them to grown-up humans.”

“Grown ups don’t have monsters under their beds.”

“They do. They may not know it, but they do.”

Indrid doesn’t say anything else and Duck falls asleep. He’s hoping the monster won’t come back, but the instant his mom turns out the light, he knows he’s there. 

“I’m n-not scared.” He whispers to the ceiling.

“Yes you are. I can taste it.”

“You can't hurt me. You ain’t real.”

 A hand closes around his ankle and he yelps. The monster laughs, then hisses when Duck kicks his wrist. 

“That was not nice.”

“Neither was grabbing me”

There’s a huff, but nothing else. The third night, Duck is ready, sticking a fake sword under the bed as soon as Indrid says something. 

The sword is yanked from his hands. 

“Why is it this color?”

“Suppose to be from the future. Ain’t you seen space rangers?”

“No. That is not a movie we have down here.”

Duck is only now starting to recognize awkward pauses, but he’s pretty sure this is one.

“Will you tell me about it?” Indrid slides the sword back onto the floor by his dresser. 

He rolls onto his back. He’s not all that tired, and Juno is sick of hearing about it.

“Okay, so there’s this guy who’s a space farmer….”

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

It’s been a year and Indrid is under his bed almost every night, but Duck isn’t afraid of him anymore. Which is why he’s determined to finally get a look at him. How scary can a monster that wants to talk about T.V or trees or whatever else Duck has been up to really be?

When his mom turns off the light, Duck slips out of bed and lays on his stomach, staring into the darkness beneath it. 

Four red eyes appear, but nothing else. 

“Hey ‘Drid.”

“Hello. Why are you down here? Did you lose that action figure again?”

“Nah. Wanted to see you. Where’s the rest?”

“Hidden in shadows. I am not supposed to let humans see me. It can be dangerous.”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

Indrid hurriedly adds, “But we can stay like this, this is okay. I think. I do not really care, I like being able to see you. You're like the baby multibear my friend has.”

“I ain't a bear.”

“No. But you are, ah, cute.”

Only Iris, Juno’s friend, has ever called him cute, and he only knows that because Juno told him. He understood he was supposed to think that was good. But he likes it much better when Indrid says it.

“What should we talk about tonight?”

Duck rests his chin on his hands, “You wanna play go fish?”

“You have a fish?” The red eyes tip to the right. 

He snickers, “No, it’s a game. Here, lemme show you…”

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

“You better give that one back.” Duck grumbles as he looks down from the bed to see his new Spiderman comic missing. 

“I have given all of them back.” He can hear the smile, the one he’s glimpsed in darkness while whispering secrets under the bed; it’s wide, and there are definitely fangs, but Indrid only ever shows it when he’s happy. He never has a mean smile like the jerks at school. 

“Where’s my Black Panther?”

“...........I dropped it in the stream when I was reading.”

“‘Drid!”

“I got excited!!”

“You owe me a new one.” There’s no anger in his words. It’s just a comic book, not nearly as special as Indrid. 

“Can I give you something from here instead?”

Duck closes the new Iron Man, holds it down to the space beneath the bed, “deal.”

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

He wakes up with a cry, too quiet to be a scream but with tremendous force behind it. As the nightmare fades, something rolls off the bed behind him. 

“‘D-Drid? Please, please say that was you or Taco.”

“It was me, Duck. I, I am sorry, you were whimpering in your sleep and I could taste more and more fear and I did not want you to be afraid. I, ah, I thought if I held you, it would make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” He shivers, the dream reaching out from all sides, threatening more horror if he falls asleep.

“Can, uh, can you come back up? Just for a little bit?” 

“I should not. It was already risky to do it how I did.”

Duck nods, forgetting Indrid can't see him. That's fine. He’ll be okay. He can handle-

A tree branch scrapes the window and he throws the covers over his head. 

“Put your hand over the edge of the bed.”

Duck slips his hand out from the blanket and lets it hang in the air. Fingers link around it, and then Indrid is holding it full on. It doesn’t feel like holding Janes hand when he’s helping her cross the street; it’s cold, smooth, and the nails are sharp. He sneaks a glance, sees red claws wrapped around his wrist, and feels safe enough to sleep. 

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

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, don’t know why I’m so worried about startin’ high school. I mean, it’s fucking Kepler, the high school ain’t any bigger than the middle school. “

“I always get nervous for new lessons. Even with some ability to see the future, I am worried I will do something wrong. Maybe it is that?”

“Yeh.” Duck rolls onto his side, hoping for a glimpse of a hand. He wishes he knew what Indrid looked like, wishes he was coming to school with him tomorrow. 

“I am sure you will be fine. You are intelligent, and funny, and charming.”

He smiles at the wall, “Thanks, ‘Drid.”

“Any time, Duck.”

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

His roommate is snoring, which is not what he was hoping for from his first night in the dorms. Class tomorrow is going to fucking suck if he hasn't slept. 

“Congratulations on the successful move.” A familiar voice slinks up to his ear. 

“‘Drid? Holy shit, did you follow me?”

“I am your monster, I go where you go. Sort of. It is complicated. What is not complicated however, is this.” The clawed hand pops up to the edge of the bed, placing a wrapped package near Duck’s head. Stealthily removing the paper shows it’s the bright orange truffles that come from Indrid’s home. Duck loves them.  

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“It is traditional in both human and monster culture to give a gift when one moves to a new home. And I like bringing you things. Are you feeling well? Excited to learn about the forest?”

“Yep. Just wish I could get to sleep.”

“One moment.”

He feels Indrid leave. Then his roommate's bed shakes and shudders, the other guy jolting awake in fright. He doesn’t look like he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. 

Duck shifts onto his side, facing the wall, and whispers down the stucco, “Thanks.”

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

A perk of his roommate getting a girlfriend is that Duck gets more nights alone. He’s soaked the pillow with sweat, and is so wrung out from cumming he hasn't wiped his hands yet. 

“Are you done?”

“JESUSFUCK”

“I'm taking that as a yes.”

“Please tell me you ain’t been there this whole time.”

“No, I always leave if you are doing that. It is private.”

“Thank fuck.”

Relief is followed by disappointment, which he decides he won’t think too hard about. 

It only takes another night before he does, imagining Indrid listening to him fuck himself, whispering instructions for how Duck should do it, even touching himself at the same time, getting off on the sound of Ducks pleasure before holding his hand all night. 

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

It’s fall, and the apartment he and Juno share is close to campus, cheap, and fucking freezing.

Duck knows just how to warm up. Sliding his hand down his sweats, he starts picturing Rich, but the thought of jerking it to an ex is a boner-kill waiting to happen. So, he switches to his trusty fallback, selecting a blonde, fresh-faced yet kind of punk body for the voice under the bed. 

He wants to draw it out, but fantasizing about Indrid always sets his hand flying, too many nights like this seeding a deep desire in his veins that he has to purge fast for fear of what will happen if it lingers. The monsters name drops from his lips, breathy and urgent, and he’s too caught up to care  

“Indrid, fuck, please.”

“Please what?”

Gasping, he sits up. A figure is standing at the foot of his bed, staring at him with red eyes. In the dark room, he can’t make much out beside their glow and two short horns on the top of his head. Duck’s mind spins so fast it hurls out the first sentence that comes.

“‘Drid’s got four eyes, not tw-”

Another pair of eyes open just below the first.

“They are a secondary pair, so I can keep them shut and see just fine. I thought the sight of them might be too much combined with the rest of me.” Indrid murmurs.

“Th-though I ain’t allowed to see the rest.”

A shrug, “You aren’t. But I cannot bring myself to care right now. Not when you say my name like that.”

Summoning his courage, Duck locks his gaze onto Indrid’s own and slowly drags a hand up his dick, “You gonna show me the rest or not?”

A hissing growl curls around him as Indrid leans forward, clawed hands leading the crawl onto the bed. In the moonlight coming through the window, Duck sets eyes on the whole of him for the first time. 

His face is angular, sporting his wide toothy grin and framed by silver hair falling just past his chin. Past the claws, his arms are a mixture of tan skin and black and red scales, twining up his arms. The same combination is clear on his chest, visible above the neckline of the white tank-top. Flashes of color appear under the fabric, racing down Indrid’s spine, and Duck would ask what they are if Indrids face had not just come level with his. Standing up, the monster can't be much taller than him. But here, pinned against his headboard like a scientific specimen, Indrid bracketing him, he feels frighteningly small. 

“What happened to not spying on me when  I did this?” The words stick in his dry mouth. 

“It was accidental. I only stayed when I heard you call for me.”

“Wasn't callin.” Heat rises in his face. 

The grin widens, “Oh no?” A long tongue drags down Duck’s cheek, “You did not have even the smallest hint of hope I would her? That I would lay in the shadows, savoring the sounds of you, ah, taking yourself in hand?”

He’s so strange looking, every sensible part of Duck is screaming for him to run, to banish him under the bed and go back to his normal life. 

Duck inches his face forward, closing his teeth round the lobe of a pointed ear, “Maybe.”

Indrid chuckles, “Then maybe I have been hoping for the same. Maybe I have been touching myself and dreaming it was your hand instead of mine. Maybe” he brushes their noses together, “I have wanted this for as long as you have?”

“Least a year, more if I’m bein honest with myself.”

“Several years, but then again, I had the pleasure of being able to see your face. It made you all the more appealing.”

Duck reaches out a shaking hand, stroking silver hair. He means to say some platitude about Indrid being handsome because the affection in Duck’s heart means he couldn’t see him any other way. While that may be true,  a second, more surprising truth comes out in its place. 

“Thinkin if you’d let me see you, we woulda gotten here a lot sooner. “

There’s another growl and then he’s yelping out a laugh as Indrid yanks him flat on his back and unceremoniously rips his shirt off. His monster brings their lips together, tongue sliding between Duck’s lips as the human shoves both hands into Indrid’s hair. When he teases his tongue against Indrid’s, the monster whines, pressing closer and pawing his sides. 

“‘Drid” He mumbles. 

Another whine, higher and morphing into a chirr as Indrid grinds their hips together.

“‘Drid, you gotta let me breathe.”

The monster breaks the kiss, but coats his face in pecks as he catches his breath, chirping all the while. Something solid ripples beneath the fabric of his black pants where they rub against Duck’s thigh. 

“Holy fuck what, what exactly are you packin down there?”

“Would you like to see?”

“Hell yeah.” 

The pants and Duck’s sweats hit the ground in quick succession, Indrid’s shirt landing atop them a moment later when Duck pulls it off to kiss along the scaled swirls of his chest. 

“Well, what do you think?”

“Guh, uh, jesus, uh, ‘Drid, what’s it doin?”

Indrid looks down to where four short tendris are unfurling to reveal a ridged cock.

“Getting ready to fuck you?”

“Uh, how exactly?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Lay back and I will demonstrate. Do not worry, as much as it pains me to focus on anything but your face, I will use my foresight to be certain nothing I do leads to trouble. 

Duck rests his head on the pillow as Indrid settles between his legs, claws pricking his thighs when the monster pushes them apart. 

“Does the whole thing goOH, oh fuck.” He wiggles his hips, “fuck, ‘Drid, that feels so fuckin weird.”

‘That is not surprising. It is one of the tendrils which, unless I'm very wrong about human anatomy, none of your previous partners had.”

“Nnnnnnfuck, fuck you’re gonna fuckin ruin me, god fuckin damn that feels nice.”

“Wonderful.” Indrid bends down, hands gliding to rest by Ducks biceps. He kisses him slowly s the tendril continues stretching him open, slick and pulsing in time with the careful movements of Indrid’s hips. 

His monster noses down his throat, drgs his tongue back up it with a purr, “You taste divine.”

“If you,re fuck gonna eat me, do me a favor and do it after I cum?” Duck teases, stroking Indrid’s shoulder blades. 

Indrid laughs, “A fair request. But I have zero interest in eating you; how could I? I would lose my best friend and my new favorite past time.” The tendril thickens, making Duck moan and throw his forearm over his eyes. 

“Fuuuck, are all monsters this fuckin sappy?”

“Only yours. And it is not as if you're not that way. I remember those love notes you asked me to help with.”

“Okay okay, we’re both big fuckin marshmallows. Now, AAHnn, are you gonna help me break this bed or not?”

Indrid pulls out with another growl, kneading Duck’s ass as he lines up his cock, “Yes, yes I am.”

“FUCK, ohfuckohfuck, yeah, fuck yeah.” Duck digs his fingers into Indrid’s back as he shoves in, “‘Drid, tht’s so fuckin goodohshit, what, what’s it doin now?” The tendrils have spread, one curling around his dick, two teasing his balls, and the fourth twining up Indrid’s shaft, meaning Duck’s toes curl with new sensations on the next thrust.

Indrid grins against his neck, “Taking care of you.”

“Ain’t that, that thoughtful.”

“All for you my sweet, goodness, you’re so warm and your ass is delightful.” His lips find Duck’s cheeks, “I’ve wanted this so long, sweetheart, so very longAHhnnnn.” His head hits the pillow as Duck scratches down his back. Not only do colors flash in his wake; spikes emerge along the ridge of his spine, flickering red to purple to black.

“Is that-”

“-okay yes very, o-okay. You can touch them, they will not hurt.”

Duck runs his finger up one. It’s feathery and smooth, rising and lowering with the undulations of Indrid’s body. Tugging it makes Indrid snap his hips with a chirring growl.

“Yes, yes do that again, more, please ohahnnnnisJunohome?

“No?”

“Good.”

The words Duck meant to say give way to shouts of pleasure as Indrid slams into him over and over, sinking his teeth into his shoulder and clawing at his sides. Duck scratches his scales and skin, strokes and pulls the feathery spines, Indrid trilling when he does. His hips quicken, Duck struggling to keep pace as the monster pins him more firmly to the bed. When he cums the tendrils tighten, sending Duck over the edge right after him. Indrid kisses him again, nipping long his lips as he whimpers the monsters name. 

As his whole body spasms and relaxes, Indrid rolls him over, panting. 

“More, I want more, again, mine, you are all mine.”

Duck looks over his shoulder, grinning fondly, “Uh huh.”

“What is so funny?”

“Nothin. Just, uh, realized there's a plant your dick reminds me of.”

Indrid blinks so intently his second set of eyes join in the expression. Then he cackles, draping himself over Duck to kiss him again. 

“You can tell me all about it after we are done with the extremely pressing matter of me fucking you again.”

“Go wild, darlin.”

This time the pillow takes the brunt of the noise, Duck grunting and moaning into it as Indrid fucks him from behind, switching between slow, gentle thrusts and grabbing Duck’s hips to drive into him hard enough to set off fireworks in his brain. He’s overstimulated to the point of tears, but his whole system floods with pleasure at the intensity of Indrid’s desire, the feeling of being so utterly used and wanted all at once. When the monster pulls out, he’s cum enough that it drips down Duck’s thigh, tingling as it goes. 

“Now” Indrid flops onto the mattress, wriggling into Duck’s waiting arms, “tell me about this plant.”

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

When Juno gets home Sunday morning, Duck is in the kitchen humming long with a playlist on his phone. 

“Holy fuck man, what happened to you.” She stares at the bitemarks and bruises all around his neck and shoulders and the scratches on his legs. 

“Had a real nice weekend.”

“You got all that from a hook-up?”

Duck shakes his head with a secretive smile, “Nah. Just had a sleepover with my new boyfriend.”

[thran-duils]

Jealous Sea

Title: Jealous Sea Summary: I took the prompt “Jealous dark!Tony smut with a reader who’s already in an established relationship.  Get that Suit involved as a side too.” from @sherrybaby14‘s latest prompt challenge. The fic is told from Tony’s POV with a very small POV from the reader. I took inspo from The Avengers and Iron Man 2.

I listened to this song a lot while writing this, which the fic is named after. Words: 2,962 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dub-con, character death, smut, stalking, unprotected sex 

Masterpost

Connor’s arm snaked around her waist with ease and she comfortably leaned into him, not breaking stride in her conversation.

The muscles in Tony’s jaw tightened, the shine dulling ever so slightly at this intrusion.

To him, it was an intrusion; to Y/N, it was merely her fiancé coming to her side to engage with her and his colleague. Well, boss. Tony was his boss.

Connor was naïve. Tolerable for Tony at best. The man had his smarts – you had to in order to be able to work at Stark Industries – but his scope was too small for Tony’s liking. He could grasp the here and now but lacked the foresight to see the bigger picture. Tony had been considering if it would be possible to find a replacement for Connor up until the Christmas party a few months ago.

Connor had brought his fiancé finally, the one he had been gushing about at every opportunity – another quirk that had gotten under Tony’s skin quite quickly – but had been unable to bring in because she was running research abroad.

Admittedly, Tony had not even bothered to check up on the fiancé on social media – or Connor’s social media, for that matter – his concern minimal to none about Connor’s personal life. Perhaps if he had, he could have saved himself the slight embarrassment of flirting with her when he spotted her at a table alone at the party. His jaw had almost gone slack when she introduced herself as Connor’s fiancé and politely side stepped his flirtations.

Since then, Tony made sure to attend every after work get together and somehow always be around when she stopped by the office. Every smile she sent his way lit his core. He desired to possess her for his own. Such an exquisite being was wasted on Connor.

He had been elated to find her alone once more at this launch party, swooping in quickly, the woman who had tried to glue herself to his side discarded carelessly.

Tony asked genuine questions about her work, basking in the joy she emanated discussing it. His eyes lingered at her lips, imagining how soft they would feel against his.

Of course, Connor had to ruin the moment with his goober smile and inane jokes. It was some solace that Y/N seemed interested in continuing the conversation though with him and did not seem to want to leave. It gave Tony hope.

<> <> <>

As the months drug on, the wedding loomed closer. Tony grew ever irritable that Y/N continued to be attracted to Connor, despite his subtle advancements to her. He was right in front of her for god’s sake. Smarter. Richer. More attractive. He tried to fathom what would get her to notice him. His insatiable desire to taste her, his lips running up her thighs into that sweet spot always ate away at him.

Water dripped down her skin as she emerged from the water, coming back up onto the yacht. Connor had been grateful Tony had invited them to boat with him. Of course, Connor did not know that without Y/N he would not have even come within sniffing distance of Tony’s yacht. It was worth having to put up with him if Tony got to be on the receiving end of just one more bright smile from Y/N.

Yet, each smile thrown his way still ended up with her sitting with or on Connor, not him.

He needed Connor out of the way. That was the only path that made sense.

<> <> <>

It had been too easy. Y/N had been abroad again when Loki’s army attached New York City, so she was not in danger.

All it had taken was Tony leading the giant son of a bitch alien to their street and cutting a quick corner. The alien had taken out Connor’s penthouse in its attempt to follow him.

Afterward, Tony had flown back by to make sure the job had indeed been done.

Too easy.

<> <> <>

Y/N agreed to take a job in California when Tony offered to help. She wanted to start fresh; being in New York was too painful. Tony was elated when she took it a step further and accepted his offer to live in his mansion until she found a place of her own. He was determined that his place would be more than enough.

But weeks turned to a month and she was still insisting she would be out of his hair soon despite his protests. She was beginning to spend less time at his place, burying herself in her work. Tony consistently extended dinner invitations to exclusive restaurants, which she did accept but was not responding to him and his hints about joining him afterwards. Too many times she left him downstairs rejected.

It was wearing on him.

He needed to relax, unwind, and possibly just bury himself under a couple women. Or three.

<> <> <>

Reader POV

You groaned when you pulled into the driveway, seeing it packed with cars. The day had been long and all you really wanted to do was take a hot bath and then slip into some comfortable pajamas.

Thankfully, you had a remote to the garage and did not have to worry about parking.

Once inside, you contemplated the easiest route from the elevator that ended in the front hall to your bedroom upstairs. The music was already reaching your ears as you stepped into the elevator.

<> <> <>

Jarvis alerted Tony through his Iron Man suit the moment Y/N had pulled into the garage. Smiling at the news, he knocked back the rest of his drink, ready to fetch himself a fresh one as well as get her one.

He passed by people, the suit clunking as he walked. Halfway to the kitchen, he leaned in when an attractive brunette woman beckoned him, and she pulled him in for a kiss.

“As lovely as you are,” Tony said against her lips before pulling away. “I am on a time sensitive mission.”

The woman kept her hands on the chest of the suit as she pouted, “Is it anything I can help you with?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” Tony told her distracted and her face lit up as Jarvis was updating him that Y/N was getting into the elevator. He wanted to intercept her before she managed to get upstairs. “Could you be a peach and make two gin and tonics? Doubles?”

“Going hard tonight?” she joked.

“I’ll be right back. Promise. Have them ready.”

Tony moved through the crowd, briefly greeting people who called for his attention, focused on moving quick.

He made it in the nick of time. The doors dinged open right when he arrived.

Even through his buzzed state he could tell Y/N was like a deer in headlights. Yes, she had meant to sneak up stairs without even so much as a ‘hi’. Good thing he got there when he had.

“Y/N, even after a long day of work, you still manage to look ravishing. Won’t you join me for a drink or two?”

“Oh,” Y/N stammered. She forced a smile and said over the music, “It’s a little crowded in here. I think being upstairs where it’s quiet –”

“Nonsense,” Tony cut her off. He decided he was going to more assertive than usual. This night was going to be different. He waved her forward to him. “Come, come. Join the fun.”

“Tony –”

“I insist,” he again interjected, coming to her instead and slipping his arm around her shoulders. He saw her concerned look at his hand, and he chortled, “Don’t worry. It won’t just go off. I have to active it and actually have something I want to shoot. Come! Join the party! I daresay you need to kick back and relax. I have drinks waiting for us back in the kitchen. You like gin and tonic, correct?”

Y/N nodded, keeping up with his stride.

The woman was waiting by the counter, searching the crowd for his return. When her eyes landed on Y/N – who was looking flustered – her face fell immediately. Tony did not care about the shocked look on her face.

Gesturing at the glasses, he asked, “These mine?”

“Yes, but –”

“Thank you so much,” He said. Picking them up, despite the hurt look on the woman’s face, he handed the other to Y/N. “My lovely roommate – who is a brilliant scientist by the way – just got home. She looks a bit peckish too.” He leaned in concerned to Y/N. “We should get you something to eat. Otherwise this will go right to your head and you won’t last. And we are definitely staying up late.”

Y/N and the woman barely got a syllable out each before Tony pressed on, “There’s some pizza on the patio. Lots of it. Here.” He reached out, pushing the cup up to Y/N’s lips. “There we go. Big swig.” He took once and she sheepishly followed suit. “Lovely!” To the woman, he said, “That’s a damn good drink. Are you a bartender? Thanks again.”

Tony pulled Y/N through the crowd, encouraging her with another drink.

“What was that about your concern about it going to my head?” Y/N half joked when they stepped out onto the patio where people were lounging and swimming in the pool.

Tony threw her a smirk. “Always with the quips.” They approached the boxes and he made sure she grabbed a slice. He did not want her passing out too soon; that was the truth.

He managed to coerce her to have a refill and mingle with people. Y/N relaxed halfway through the second double. Tony continued throwing compliments her way about how she was helping her research team tremendously and how he wished she would agree to come work for him. Despite her relaxation, he could tell she was still one foot in and one foot out. She blushed when he praised her, her eyes moving to the door back inside every so often. He was growing agitated – why could she not just accept his affection? She always toed the line, lightly commenting in flirtation or brushing his hand with her fingers. Yet, when push came to shove, she jumped back.

His annoyance boiled to a point when she leaned in to tell him she should probably go upstairs.

“There’s nothing for you up there,” Tony remarked, laughing humorlessly.

“My tub is and so is my bed. Really, Tony. I’m tired. It’s been a good time but I’m ready to really relax.”

“Could have fooled me that you were having a good time,” Tony said curtly.

Y/N looked at him confused at his swift change in demeanor. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Tony replied, shrugging briskly. “Maybe I would think it was a ruse because you’ve been wanting to get away from me the moment you walked inside. That’s been evident.”

“What? What are you –”

“No. Don’t deny it.”

Y/N was starting to look uncomfortable, eyes on the people around because some were taking notice of his vexed tone.

“Seriously, Tony. It’s not you. I really did have a long day.”

Sighing exasperated, Tony told her, “That seems to be the excuse every time. So, forgive me if I’m just a little bit, you know, bristled.”

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say. I just want to go upstairs where it’s quiet.”

“Quiet?” Tony asked, anger rolling the more she denied her rejection of him. All the rejections. He flipped the mask down to cover his face completely, starting up the suit. “We can go somewhere quiet if that is what you wish.”

Y/N looked frightened as he advanced, and he ignored all the other eyes on them.

She protested when he picked her up and into his arms and he shot up into the sky. Her panicked shriek was lost to the wind as he jettisoned away from his property, holding her tightly to make sure she did not fall from his embrace.

If she wanted somewhere quiet, that is what she was going to get.

Tony landed at the edge of the beach below his mansion, only letting go of Y/N when they were safely landed. She stumbled back away from him, hair windswept and face flushed.

He activated the suit to open and he stepped out of it as it unwrapped from around him. His gaze was burning into Y/N, determined to make headway and get what he wanted.

Throwing his hands out, he asked, “This quiet enough? I mean, besides the waves?”

Y/N seemed to find her grounding again. Her brow pinched in anger as she stepped towards him. “What the hell is your problem, Tony? How much have you had to drink?”

Tony chuckled darkly, closing the remainder of the space between them. She glared up at him, demanding, “Well?”

He was tired of her defiant behavior. Suddenly, he reached up and wound his fingers tightly in her hair, yanking her head back. She let out a sharp cry as he pulled her to him.

“What do I have to do to get your attention, Y/N?” he growled. “Haven’t I done enough? Wasn’t I there for you? Have I not been good to you?”

“What?” Y/N exclaimed. “God, yes. I –”

Tony cut her off, slamming his lips to hers, holding her close. She struggled against him, protesting against his mouth, but he resisted. He moaned, dominating her with his embrace. His hands gripped tightly, relishing in having her close.

Muffled, he heard, “Tony, please.”

“I love hearing you say that,” he told her, his voice rumbling low in his chest. He pulled her away far enough to look down at her, his eyes blown wide with lust.

Again, she fought to get out of his arms, but he pushed her up against the rock behind her.

“I have wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” Tony declared, his hands grasped tight on her arms, holding her in place in front of him. “I know you have wanted it too. I’ve felt it. And you just feel guilty. You don’t have to feel guilty, Y/N. I promise. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be appreciated. I want to give you everything. I’ve been trying to.”

“Please,” she tried again, weaker this time in her resolve.

Good, he was waning her resistance down. If she could only admit she wanted him too.

“Let me love you,” Tony breathed, forcibly pulling her shirt over her head. His hands moved quickly to her bra clasp and she reached up to try to stop him shakily. He brushed her hands aside easily. “Now, let’s give in. Y/N. You know you want to. I know you want to.”

He did not wait for her to respond before undoing her bra and tossing it aside. His fingers fluttered across her nipples and she gasped lightly, aroused. Licking his index and thumb, he brought them down to caress her erect nipple gently, his weight pinning her to the rock with his muscular thighs. She whimpered; her knuckles white with how tight she was gripping the rock behind her.

“See?” Tony practically purred, giving her nipple a brief pinch. She keened this time and he groaned at her arching her back, his cock hardening quickly in his pants.

With doe eyes, she looked up at him, not protesting him anymore.

This is what he had had to do this whole time. Be forceful, she needed a strong hand. Her bottoms went next.

“Out here?” she squeaked.

“Under the stars,” Tony assured her. “I want to see you bathed in moonlight.”

One last press surfaced from her. “I don’t know –”

He cur her off with a finger to her lips, “Just don’t think.”

Tony tugged her away from the rock and moved her down to the ground. He tore his own shirt over his head, losing his pants as well. Laying her back down on the grass, he pressed his weight on her, her hands cupping the sides of his head. She was soft, her skin smelled of the lilac soap she was so fond of. Her fingers dug in behind his ears as his tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her more deeply.

He pressed himself past her wet folds, groaning at the tightness as she gasped at the intrusion, slowly adjusting to him. His lips trailed sloppy kisses along her jawline as he increased his depth.

“Mhm, you’re a goddamn goddess,” Tony husked, bottoming out with a deep thrust causing her to cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Building up speed, their bodies moved in tandem.

“You’re mine,” Tony growled, his hips snapping. Finally, rang in his head.

Foreheads pressed together, their breath erratic, Tony felt exhilaration. It was not simply because of the sex but because he was possessing her as he always should have. There was no coming back from this. He had reached the turning point he wanted to and he was not going to let her go. Ever.

And his next move was to make sure she stayed.

He came inside her with a loud grunt, his body trembling with his orgasm as he emptied. She keened, her knees digging into his sides as she climaxed around him, adding to his sensation. He moaned in approval, smothering her with a new round of deep kisses.

She laid panting underneath him, her eyes glossed over with arousal and exhaustion. His lips curled ever so slightly, loving the sight.

“You’re going to make a wonderful mother,” he praised quietly, pecking her with light kisses that ended at her lips. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

~~~

Tags: @sherrybaby14

[getitinbusan]

Destination: Jungkook

A super soft wedding fic from the Golden Closet Universe and the companion piece to September 1st

mood board & playlist

Happy 24th birthday to the love of my life 💜 I wish I could give you more than words you'll never see.

Nerves always took over your stomach during landing. That,  coupled with the reason for the flight and you were an anxious mess.

The plane had begun its long slow descent, "You look kind of green are you okay?" Your best friend squeezed your hand. 

"It's just...usually Guk does this thing...he sings to me and rubs my neck when we land."

She looked at you and shook her head, "Yeah, I'm not gonna do that."  

You laughed, "I don't think you're taking your maid of honor duties very seriously." 

"Ughh, I can't believe you're getting married before me." She sighed, "It's not fair, Yoongi and I are the ones who introduced you. It should be us." 

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips. Sworn to secrecy, she had no idea you'd gone shopping with Yoongi, the ring had been in his pocket for weeks. "It'll be you soon babe, maybe this weekend will inspire him."     

Checking the key card you stopped at 303. Why you couldn't stay in the same room together was beyond you. 

The door was just about to click closed when his running footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. Strong arms wrapped around you and soft lips fell on yours. He did his trademark hum while he kissed you, his happy song for his happy place. 

"I can't believe how much I've missed you."

Pulling him closer you inhaled him in. He was the scent of home that had been lacking for the last four days.

His smile got bigger until his dimples finally showed up, "It's late are you tired?"  He tucked your hair behind your ear, "We've got a pretty big day tomorrow." 

"Can I just enjoy you alone for a few minutes?" 

"Is everything okay?" He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. 

Nuzzling into his neck you curled into him. "It's so stupid." 

"Tell me," he rubbed circles on your back. 

"I'm happy and I love you so much but I'm terrified and nervous and I haven't been able to talk to you about it because you've been here planning the perfect wedding for me ... and I'm selfish because I just wanted you to hold me and tell me it was all going to be okay."

He sighed in relief, "Of course it's going to be okay," he gently laid a kiss on top of your head. "Don't you know every fairy tale ends with and they lived happily ever after?" 

You couldn't help but smile, Jungkook was such a hopeless romantic. "Why can't we stay in the same room tonight?" 

Changing the mood he tickled you while pulling you back into the bed, "Because it's bad luck, and it would ruin the surprise." 

"We live together, I've seen you naked a million times so unless you've been hiding something really well I don't think I'll be surprised."

Just being back in his arms draped you in a sense of calm. His loud heart beat accompanied by the rise and fall of his steady breath lulled you into a much needed sleep. 

Your eyes crept open and looked at the clock, only 11:43. Laying your head back down you looked at Jungkook snoring peacefully. As much as you longed to keep him here until morning you knew he was superstitious. Leaning in to wake him with a kiss he  smiled and pulled you back against his chest. 

"Hey sleepy head."

He groaned under you as you poked him.

"You'd better get out of my room Jungkook, it's almost midnight."

Sitting up he rubbed his eyes and checked the time, "Shit."

He grabbed your hands in his and walked to the door.

"I guess I'll see you in a few hours?" 

Wrapping your arms around him tightly you really didn't want to let him leave.

"Nothing to be nervous about. You've got a dress right?"

You nodded.

"Then all I need you to do is show up." He kissed your forehead and stepped into the hallway. 

"Jungkook" he turned back, "I'll see you soon." 

You were glad that from the moment your feet hit the floor there was a barrage of things to be done. Mimosa's with a massage, nails, hair, makeup. Jungkook had made sure you wanted for nothing. 

You had no idea what to expect, you'd heard vague phone calls and caught small glimpses when he was planning but he'd really kept you in the dark.

Jungkook loved surprises and to his credit he was tremendously good at them. He wanted you to have a perfect stress free wedding giving you only two tasks,

1. find a dress

2. show up and say I do

The door swung open and your best friend stood grinning from ear to ear. 

"I know I'm your maid of honor but I hate you so much right now," she pouted. "I don't know how anyone will ever top what Jungkook has done for you down there." 

You laughed and it felt good to break the tension. "You specifically mean Yoongi topping it for you? Don't worry he already asked for my help."

Her jaw almost hit the floor. 

"Shit, damnit, I didn't say that! Don't tell him you know, he'll kill me!" 

Dancing around the room she squealed in happiness. "Would you be mad if I asked Jungkook to plan it?" 

"Is it that good? Is he already down there, did you see him?"

She nodded, "Everything is amazing, and he's so happy and he looks so handsome" 

You exhaled deeply, "I guess there's only one thing left to do."

She threw open the door, "Let's go get you married!" 

Sunset in Jeju, there wasn't a more perfect time or place.

Wooden boards lay across the sand leading to the exact spot Jungkook had proposed. There, up the row of candles under the fairy light arch stood the man who would be your husband.

Nothing but him existed beyond that. All you could see was his handsome face and small nervous smile, his hands wringing together to keep from fidgeting and  the reddening of his ears as you got closer. 

Surrendering the bouquet you had to touch him, you needed his hands in yours. Steady and firm, together you grounded each other. 

"Y/N,  People think our story started on a rain soaked camping trip. I don't believe that's true, that's just where it got good. Our story began in the stars,  It's the only possible way to explain how much I already knew I loved you. I promise to fill your life with happiness, love, and blanket forts for as long as you'll let me. Y/N, I love you so much and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Jungkook,  Not a day goes by that you don't make me fall in love with you a little more. Not a day that you don't make me laugh or that you make me feel loved, and from here on out there will not be a day that we'll be apart. I can't wait to see what our future holds, and I hope that 50 years from now our grown children will think we're crazy because we're still building forts in our living room.  All that matters in my life is that I get to love you. Jungkook, you'll always be my iron man and I love you 3000." The tears started but he managed a laugh at your private joke.

You swept his tears away with a brush of your thumbs and he kissed you. Husband and wife. 

Everyone was gone. The last goodbye was said and you made your way back to the reception area. 

You stopped to watch him. He was sitting by himself, a smile on his face staring up into the sky. Your husband was so beautiful.

Walking towards him you caught his eye and his face lit up like all the stars in heaven. You held out your hand, "One more dance?" 

He wrapped his arms around you and you swayed together under the night sky. Waves rolled in place of music and the moon shone a personal spotlight down on you.

"Today was perfect Jungkook"

"It's not over," he stopped to lay a sweet kiss on your lips before smiling and taking your hand. 

Walking through the sand he led you to the seaside suite and slid the door open.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to pick you up and carry you inside." 

You couldn't help but laugh, "Are you asking me or warning me?"

"Close your eyes"

"So warning me?"

"Please Y/N."

Sweeping you up he carried you into the room and set you down. 

"Open!"

There in front of you the entire room was draped in white sheets and hanging lights. The bed sat inside the biggest fort you'd ever seen.

In complete awe you turned to look at him, tears in your eyes yet smiling from ear to ear. He knew he did good.

"Jungkook this is amazing!" 

He was so excited to show off.

"And look," he pointed to the tray beside the fireplace. "We've got champagne and all the stuff to make S'mores."

He buzzed around the room pointing out all the little details. 

"Jungkook, you forgot one thing." 

His face fell as he tried to figure out what important thing he'd missed. 

"What did I forget?"

Walking towards him your hands ran down his crisp shirt and undid his belt. 

"The part where you're supposed to make love to your wife for the first time…" 

Waking up to walls of white sunlight while wrapped naked against your husband's warm body you'd never felt more content. His dark hair was wild against the pillow and you couldn't help but stare and wonder how you were chosen to be the luckiest person alive. 

Soft snores let you know he wasn't deep in his sleep and he easily woke when you kissed his swollen lips. 

"Hey," he smiled, "what time is it?" 

Pulling the sheets off it was exactly what you'd hoped to find. Despite the evening's satisfaction his cock stood firm, thick and ambitious. 

"More?" he questioned with a smile.

You nodded while straddling his hips. "Sorry, I guess this is your life now." 

He sat up to wrap his arms tightly around you as you took him in. Bare chests pressed together and the feeling of your hearts beating in unison.

He kissed his way up your neck,  "And what a great life it's going to be." 

[ficsnroses]

Pregnancy - Keanu Reeves x Reader

I went a little crazy with this one. Feedback is appreciated, thanks!

Word Count : 5077

Warnings : Lots of angst, lots of fluff, smut. Contraception failure. 

Summary : Reader thinks she may be pregnant. This story follows her and Keanu’s journey through pregnancy.

You felt a head ache. Maybe a migraine at worst, creeping up. In the solitary walls of the marble finished bathroom, you felt your stomach turn at the second week of a missed period. You weren’t sure if it was the humidity in the washroom from the shower your husband had took prior, or the uncertainty that threatened to gloom, channeling over you that had caused a thin line of sweat over your forehead. 

It was quiet in the four walls of the confined room. The drip of spared water droplets falling off the shower head filled the room. As you leant alone against the granite washroom counter, your eyes traced over the turquoise globes of water plastered over the glass shower door, cascading, flowing, tumbling down.

It can’t be anything serious, right? Periods are missed all the time. You’d been under some stress recently. That was probably it. It couldn’t be anything more – you’d taken all the precautions. But then why was there a voice in the back of your head, pressing, pushing, declaring you find assurance?

With a splash of temperate water to the face, you find your chest heavy. No matter the efforts, you can’t shake the feeling of ambiguity.

Pit, pat, pit, pat…

Those darn water droplets. The sound echoing as if the force of a thousand winds in the silence of the room, occupied by nothing but your blaring thoughts.  

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine,” you attempted to reassure yourself. Nothing a heating pad and some leisure time can’t induce. “I’m just stressed. That’s all”.

Climbing down the hallway stairs, you find your husband, back turned against the stove, humming a tune. He seems to be making breakfast, his broad, toned arms moving, back muscles contracting with every motion.  He’s dressed in sweatpants, his bed ruffled hair untamed still, framing the shape of his head perfectly. His rather raven kissed beard has been peppered with a few specs of pearly gray over the past few years. He still looks the man of your dreams, regardless.

Keanu had made a few questionable choices over the course of his life. His proudest however, was marrying you. The women who had had his entire heart for many years now. He loved life with you more than anything, he wouldn’t change it for all the riches. “Us against the world,” you’d often tell each other. It would always be.

You make yourself know with a tiny cough escaping your throat. He turns your way, watching you pad into the kitchen space.

“Morning, beautiful.” He grins, brown orbs twinkling as they set on you.

“Good morning.” You smile back, bringing yourself adjacent him, before you engulf him in a hug from behind. He’s a lot taller and bigger than you, but you manage to wrap your smaller arms around his mid, securing your chest against his back as you lean your head on him.

He laces his hand with yours that rests gently on his stomach, as his other flips food in the cast iron skillet. The smell of freshly cooked eggs consumes your senses.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his hoarse morning voice causing your lips to curl into a smile. You didn’t want to tell him of the difficulties you’d been experiencing just yet. You knew he’d worry. You needed to be sure, you needed time first.

“Yeah. As well as one can sleep with your snoring.” You giggle, placing a kiss to his back. Keanu snores ever so lightly in his sleep, which you don’t mind. However, usually, when he’s more exhausted than normal, his snoring gets louder. You tease him about it often, loving to get a reaction out of him.

“I can’t help it.” He chuckles. You untangle yourself from him to grab coffee out of the press he’s brewed. Pouring two cups, you place them down on the kitchen counter, also setting yourself down on one of the counter high stools. Keanu brings two plated meals over, setting them down as he takes a seat beside you.

You stare out the window as the nutty aroma of the dark roast washes down your throat, the earthy notes of the drink waking you up instantly. You couldn’t help the natural frown that had plastered itself on your face.

“Everything okay?” Keanu asks, sipping from his mug, opening a news paper.

“Yeah.” You sigh, digging into your plate.

“That didn’t sound too sure.” Keanu frowns, placing his mug down to gently rub your forearm, soothingly.  

“It’s fine babe, really. Just tired.” You yawn. You didn’t want to touch on the subject just yet. You needed time to evaluate it yourself first.

You didn’t want to drop the “I think I might be pregnant” bomb on him first thing in the morning.

--

Keanu and you had a healthy sex life. You were intimate pretty often, whether it was a session of making love to each other, or just regular, stress relieving sex. You loved having him, and he felt the same way about you, which is why your sex life always stayed so fresh and desirable.

Sex was also a way for you to remind each other of how much you still always wanted the other. It kept your affection fresh, made the other feel valued.

Not to mention, Keanu had a pretty high sex drive for an older man. And to be honest, you didn’t mind. You loved sex as well, and you weren’t afraid to admit it. Both of you respected each other’s boundaries and desires, neither of you would make the other do anything unless they were in the mood as well. That level of respect was established from the beginning of your relationship.

You got yourself on birth control a few months into dating Keanu all those years ago. You discussed it with him, and he agreed it was the right thing to do. Keanu and yourself fell pretty hard for each other really quick, and you were comfortable discussing these things with him early on.

You both agreed you wanted children eventually, but you wouldn’t try until both were ready and had discussed it. You wanted to make sure you were both stable in your respective careers, and had a chance to experience everything you wanted to do, both alone and together before having children restricted you from doing so. You also wanted to be married before you had kids. You had discussed marriage earlier as well, you both felt just as sure about each other. You knew you were meant to be, and marriage was definitely something you both wanted. A way to solidify your love, and share it on a special day with all your family and friends.

You decided birth control was more reliable than just condoms. Keanu wasn’t too happy about you having to take on the responsibility of taking the pill at the right time each day, but you assured him it was okay. He had always been that caring and protective over you, little gestures like that only made you fall deeper and deeper in love with him, if that was even possible anymore.

However, birth control isn’t 100% guaranteed to work. There’s always a chance something could go wrong. You’d heard it a million times, how much smaller the contraceptive failure rate is than the rate of success. But you always knew that it is there. Humans tend to ignore the idea of minor uncertainties happening to them. They forget to consider they may be the smaller, unlucky ratio.

And here you were today, scared, that you were part of that minority.

Keanu and you were married, and both stable in your careers. But you hadn’t had the talk yet to start trying for kids. It wasn’t that you couldn’t provide for a child, you just hadn’t mentally and emotionally prepared yourself yet. There was a lot of stuff you still had to figure out, still weren’t sure about for yourself.

You knew with your entire heart that Keanu would be an amazing father. His generosity, his patience, his tremendous heart, everything about him made him ideal. You saw the way he cared for your nieces and nephews, and everyone around him. You saw the way he cared for you, always putting you above him. You’d be happy to have him father your children, there’s no one you’d rather have.

But you weren’t too sure about yourself yet. Being a mother is a huge responsibility. You didn’t want to let your child down. You’d love them more than the world itself. They deserved more than the world itself.

--

Another week went by, and you still hadn’t got your period. Your worry only grew day by day. You had refrained from having sex the entire week, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there may be a life inside you. It was only becoming more and more reality by the moment.

Keanu had been noticing your mood being off for the past few weeks. You kept rubbing it off as being tired, or working too much. But you hadn’t been intimate in over a week, which wasn’t something you usually did. He missed you, missed being connected to you in the act of love.

He’d tried initiating sex a few nights that week, but you rubbed him off. Each time he would graze his fingers over the skin of your bare hips, pulling you closer to him, his breath becoming hotter on your skin, you’d gently nudge his hand away.

“Im sorry, love. Not tonight.” You’d whisper, an apologetic look on your face.

Keanu would sigh, rolling on his back.

“It’s alright, maybe tomorrow.” He’d reply, giving you a smile, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side.

You hated denying him. It wasn’t because you didn’t want sex, you did. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, knowing well you may be pregnant. Something about it felt wrong, until you knew for sure. You missed Keanu as well, missed making love to him, allowing him to make love to you.

--

On a Friday evening, you were getting ready for bed as Keanu invested himself in a novel in your shared bed. The only light in the room was emitted from the warm bedside lamp, and the silver hue the moon channelled into the room.

He had already finished brushing his teeth and washing his face, he’d normally retire in bed before you and wait until you finished your nightly routine of moisturizers and face potions before you joined him. Keanu could hear you humming from the washroom, the melody from your lips filled his ears, immersing him into almost a warm hug of your presence. A warm hug of being home.

Keanu was growing impatient, he wanted you to hurry up and finish so he could have you to himself as soon as possible.

“Baaaaabe? Why are you taking so long?” Keanu’s deep voice filled the bedroom, whining as he set his book down.

“Almost done, promise.” You yelled back from the washroom.

Keanu yawned, leaning back on the headboard, trying to occupy himself as you finished.

“Hey, wanna hear a joke?” Keanu called out to you from bed.

“Sure.” You replied, still not in sight.

“Do you know what’s really cool?” he asked.

“What?” you replied.

“Winter.” He states. You could basically see the grin on his face, even though he was in the other room.

You chuckled, he was pretty darn cute.

“Good one. 10/10.” You laughed.

“Wanna hear a construction joke?” he asked.

“Shoot.”

“I’m still working on it.”

You laughed harder this time. “Why are you telling such dad jokes?” you giggled, walking into your shared bedroom, grabbing one of his shirts out of the dresser to change into. You saw him positioned in bed, a smirk plastered on his face, eyeing you.

“Hey what’s red and flies through the air?” he asks, already grinning again.

“What, Keanu.” You say, back turned to him as you pull your shirt off, left in nothing but your bra and a pair of sleeping shorts.

“A tomato in a helicopter.”

You burst out laughing. It wasn’t the joke that was funny, just the fact that he was telling it, clearly because he was just that bored. You turn around, looking him in the eyes. “Keanu, why.”

He smiles his gorgeous smile. “C’mere.” He waves you towards him in bed. You gladly follow. Pulling you into his lap, he wraps his arms around you as you position your hands on either of his shoulders. He takes in your fresh, lavender scent, smiling wide. “You’ve been a bit down lately, thought you could use some cheering up.” He chuckles, burying his face in your chest, covered only by your lacy bra.

You run your finger through his locks, gently massaging the back of his head, as he begins placing small kisses over your clothed modesty. A few of his kisses begin trailing up, and he places a few wetter kisses just above your breasts, lingering higher up, over your collarbone, to your jaw.

He runs his hands soothingly over your hips, one hand grazing over the skin of your thigh. You felt your arousal growing by the second as he held you close. He begins kissing your neck, nipping, his tongue touching your skin ever so slightly. You lean your head back, eyes closing in ecstasy, feeling a pit of butterflies in your mid. You moan lightly, allowing him more access.

“Mhmmm, I miss you.” He breaths against your neck, still kissing. However, as his fingers slip into the waistband of your shorts, you snap your eyes open and place a hand over his, stopping him momentarily. You lean back off him slightly, avoiding eye contact, as you grab the shirt you had retrieved from the dresser to drape over yourself. You can tell he’s slightly hurt that you’ve denied him, once again.

You sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead. He’s staring at the floor beside the bed, unsure on how to touch at the subject.

“Are we okay?” he questions quietly, fiddling with the bedsheet.

You sigh, bringing his palm up to place a kiss to it. You feel horrible.

“Yeah. We are, I promise.” You gaze around the room for a second. “I know we…haven’t done anything in a few days. Sorry.”

“Do you not want me anymore?” he asks, quietly, trying to make eye contact.

You’re taken back, although you understand why he may feel that way. You’ve denied him almost every night this week.

“No, of course not, baby.” You say, cupping his cheeks, making eye contact. “I do want you, I swear by it.” You assure him. “It’s just that….” You pause, thinking. You should probably tell him, rather than keeping it to yourself and wallowing in uncertainty alone. He’s just as much a part of this, and it seems unfair to keep him in the dark. “I…I haven’t got my period in around 6 weeks.” You slowly say. His expression grows concerned. “I think I might be pregnant, Ke.”

He’s slightly taken back, but manages to speak. “Oh…is that why you’ve been a little…off?” he asks, taking hold of your hand.

“Yeah…I guess.” You sigh.

“Have you taken a test?” he asks gently, giving you a reassuring nod.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve been…I don’t know. I guess taking the test would be the first step to accepting that it might be a reality. I don’t know. I’m not sure how to feel.”

Keanu brings your hand up to his lips, to kiss each and every finger, before he rests it on his cheek, placing his own hand over it. “Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t know how to feel and I wasn’t sure. I’m still not sure.” You begin to feel your eyes water. Keanu notices, and immediately rubs his thumb under the soft skin of your eye. “Hey, baby. Look at me.” He says. “I can tell you’re nervous, I just wish you would have told me so I could have been there for you.” He frowns. “Don’t you think we should take a test?” he proposes.

“Yeah. We should, I’m just really scared because we didn’t get a chance to discuss it, and I was so sure the pills would work.” You begin to cry at this point, and he only pulls you closer.

“Hey hey, shhh. It’s going to be okay.” He rubs your back soothingly, as you rest your head on his chest. “We’ll grab some tests first thing in the morning, okay? And no matter the results, please don’t forget how much I love you, Y/N. I���m gonna be here for you, okay? We’re gonna get through this together.” He laces both hands with yours now. “Us against the world, remember?” he smiles.

“Us against the world.”

--

You fell asleep with Keanu holding you close all night, running his hand over your arms and back soothingly, lulling you to a peaceful slumber. He knew how stressed you were, and he wished he could take all the weight off your shoulders.

Keanu went out to pick up some pregnancy tests from the pharmacy while you stayed home. He insisted you stay home, and take a nice, long, relaxing shower to ease your mind. The cashier recognized him, and saw him trying to ring out pregnancy tests. Her eyes went wide, but Keanu was used to it at this point. The world knew he was a married man, in a committed relationship with the love of his life. If he needed pregnancy tests, he needed pregnancy tests. The world could think what they want.

As Keanu got home, you were eagerly waiting in the living room for his arrival. You had butterflies in your stomach – your life could change today. It was nerve-wracking.

“The box says we’ll have to wait three minutes after you take it.” Keanu says, as he hands you the box. You swallow as you grip it, your heart already racing again. You nod in response. He follows you to your bedroom. Entering the room, Keanu shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the rack. “Do you want me to come in with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, telling him no. “Okay,” he replies. You begin the walk into the washroom, but he stops you, with a grasp of the wrist. “Baby?” he asks.

“Yeah?” you question.

“Us against the world.” He gives you a smile.

You beam a genuine smile, your heart full at his care. You close your eyes, leaning in to place a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Once you’ve took the test, you set it on a layer of paper towels, bringing it out to your bedroom, placing it your dresser. These are going to be the longest three minutes of your life. Keanu immediately walks over to you to kiss your cheek, placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you to sit on the bed. He sets himself down on the floor in front of you, holding your hand the entire time. He places kisses on your wrists, your palm, and your fingers frequently, trying to calm your nerves.

Once the test beeps ready, he gives you a reassuring squeeze, standing up to grab it off the dresser. You had placed it upside down so you could look at the results at the same time.

Keanu sits down beside you on the bed, wrapping one arm around you, hugging you close, as he gives the test in your hand. You keep it faced down until you’re both ready. He has both arms wrapped securely around you. “I’m ready when you are, hun.” He says.

You sigh, giving it a few seconds before you slowly turn it over. Two lines. Positive.

You feel warm tears flood down your cheeks, throwing your head down. You didn’t mean to cry like this, but you’re overwhelmed. You’ve always wanted kids, but you wanted to have them on your own time when you were ready. This felt out of the blue, and you hadn’t time to prepare. But it happened. You were pregnant.

Keanu pulled you even closer as you wept, kissing your hair, soothingly rubbing your back. “Shhhhhh, its okay baby. I’m right here.” He kept whispering. His heart was breaking seeing you like this.

After a few moments, you finally choked out. “I’m scared, Ke. I’m so scared.”

“I know baby, I know.” He kept kissing your hair, your temples, your cheeks. “It’s your body. The final decision will be yours too. If you’re not ready, its okay. I understand.” He whispered.

“I guess we should have been more careful, huh.” You wept. “What if I’m a horrible mother? I don’t know how to care for a child.” Your emotions were getting the best of you.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? You’ll be an amazing mother. You’ll learn; I’ll learn. I promise, if we go through with this, everything’s going to be okay.” He reassured, still holding you close.

After a few moments, you finally replied. “I guess we were going to have kids anyway. We’re both have stability in our lives right now. Just a little earlier than planned.” You lightly chuckled, tears still falling.

“Are we gonna do this?” Keanu questioned, kissing your temple again.

“Yeah. We’re gonna do this.”

Keanu felt his heart swell at those words. He was finally going to have it – the perfect life he’d always dreamed of. A wife who loves him more than life itself, and a child to call his own and spoil. He’d always dreamed of being a father. He wanted it all, the sleepless nights, the tantrums, the parent teacher meetings, teaching them to ride a bike, everything. And to do it with you – his Y/N, meant the world.

You pulled back to look each other in the eyes. You felt your lips curl into a smile as you saw the tears in his eyes as well now. “Congratulations, you’re going to be a dad, Ke.” You whispered, stroking his cheek.

“And you’re going to be a mom. The best mom our child could ever get.” He kissed you, beaming as you wiped away each others tears. You shared perhaps the most special moment of your lives together in that instant.

--

Telling your families was perhaps the most exciting part of it all. Both your families were ecstatic, your parents more than excited to finally get a grandchild to spoil immensely. As your belly grew bigger and bigger, Keanu had already started working on the baby’s room. You had found out you were having a baby girl, and neither of you could be more excited.

You couldn’t wait for the dress up sessions, teaching her how to bake, watching all the Disney moves together. Keanu couldn’t believe there was going to be a little girl running around, calling him daddy. He couldn’t wait to learn how to braid her hair, and play tea party with her and her stuffed animals. He’d protect her at all costs, she would be his first priority for the rest of his life, his proudest accomplishment. Just like you were.

Pregnancy brought on a lot of nausea and mood swings for you. Many women luck out and don’t get these rather annoying symptoms, but unfortunately, you weren’t one of them. Keanu made sure to help you out on every single thing he could. He knew the physical and emotional toll this pregnancy was taking on you, and if he could, he would bear all the pain in the world for you. He made sure to stay patient if you ever freaked out at him for having the TV too loud, or leaving a dish in the sink. He knew it was just the hormones.

Keanu’s famous foot and back rubs became very frequent during your pregnancy, and he loved providing them as it helped ease the pain. He loved touching your belly anytime he could, he found it mind boggling to know there was a real, live baby in there. A baby you’d made together. The biggest symbol of your love there would ever be.

You had been talking to your belly ever since you started showing in the slightest. It helped you feel more connected to her, and you swore she could hear you. Whether it was as you worked leisurely on a painting, or as you lounged on the couch watching TV. You were so excited to get to talk to her in person soon.

Keanu was a bit iffy talking to your belly at first, but it soon enough became second nature to him as well. This baby, even though not here yet, had become such a prominent part of your lives. It seemed as if everything you did, was for her.

“Don’t give mommy too hard of a time in there, princess.” Keanu would often chuckle as she kicked. You loved feeling her kick, but it was rather uncomfortable. Sometimes, Keanu would read to her, whether it be the novel he was currently browsing, or script lines. It was one of his favourite things to do.

Keanu was a giant softie. By the 7th month of pregnancy, your belly quite big, making it hard for Keanu and you to make love or cuddle anymore. It was hard having to wait, but so worth it, knowing your baby girl was closer and closer to arrival by the day.

Sometimes, when Keanu really wanted to feel your touch, he would gently rest his head on your tummy, draping a leg over you as he held your belly close. You would run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. You missed your cuddle sessions, boy were you excited to continue them once she was finally here.

--

It felt like forever, but the day had come that your water broke, and you’d finally been sent into labour. You had made a hospital bag ready to go months prior, trying to be as prepared as possible. Keanu made sure to stay nice and calm, knowing you would probably be a little frazzled as it was your first time going into labour.

Keanu called both of your immediate family as soon as you got to the hospital. He was filled with excitement to the brim, so ready to finally meet his daughter. Of course, both of your families showed up with flowers, balloons and teddy bears to welcome the newest member of the Reeves family into the world.

Keanu sat beside the bed, holding your hand and talking to you the entire time as you waited to be fully dilated. It seemed like the longest process, and you were just ready for her to pop out already. Of course, he made sure to tell you a few more of his famous dad jokes to ease the tension.

“Babe?” He’d ask lightly, rubbing your hand.

You didn’t reply. You were so incredibly uncomfortable, with your head leaned back and eyes closed on the hospital bed.

“What sound does a witch’s car make?” he proposed, fiddling with your fingers.

“Mmm?” you moaned.

“Broom broom.” Keanu chuckled. You couldn’t help the smile that did creep onto your lips. You loved your silly, silly, dad joke telling husband, no matter how horrible his jokes really were.

--

When you were finally 10cm dilated, you were taken into the birthing room. You remember the nurse telling your family “father only, please.” as they wheeled you into the room, Keanu by your side each step of the way.

The process of giving birth was pretty hazy. Thankfully, you had opted to take the epidural offered to you to ease the pain. You didn’t think you’d be able to do it without one. You remember Keanu being there the whole time, holding your hand, encouraging praises leaving his lips every so often. You had a killer headache however from the medication, and the bright lights were only making it worse. You made a mental note to ask Keanu more about that entire process once you were home.

However, you’ll never forget the sound of the first cry of your baby girl. It’ll stay engraved in your mind forever, like a melody so pure. You remember Keanu squeezing your hand harder, pressing a kiss to your temple, smiling. “You did it, honey. She’s here.”

You remember Keanu being instructed to cut the umbilical cord, before your baby girl was taken away to be cleaned, leaving you and Keanu alone as the nurses checked up on you to make sure all was okay.

Keanu wiped your forehead, as you took in deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. “Im so proud of you, Y/N. Thank you for bringing our baby into the world.” You heard him whisper, as he kissed your cheek, your shoulder, and then your hand.

Finally, a few moments later, you remember your baby girl, all cleaned and dressed in a white baby blanket brought back out to you. You couldn’t stop the tears in that moment. They definitely over powered both you and Keanu. The nurse placed her in your arms, as Keanu wrapped his arm around you, holding both of you close as you had your first meeting with your daughter. Your first family interaction.

“Hi there, princess.” Keanu whispered to her, smiling, as you stared at her in awe, tears falling. “I’m Keanu, but you can call me daddy. This is your mommy, Y/N. We’re gonna love you so much baby girl. Forever.” He whispered to her.

“Forever. I promise.” Was all you could choke out, as you stared at your daughter, hugging her close, taking in her features. She had Keanu’s chocolate eyes, and your tiny button nose.

Keanu’s eyes had welled with tears as well. It was the most beautiful moment of your lives. So special. So precious. As the three of you huddled closer together, you heard Keanu whisper.

“Us against the world.” as he stared at you and his daughter. You smiled.

“Us against the world.”

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

[piccadilly-lilly]

“The predicament in which Isolde and I found ourselves seemed fictional, fantastic right from the start. 　 We met while I was on holiday behind the Iron Curtain. I was a Swedish student working for my doctorate in political science. She was a medical student from East Berlin: beautiful, slender with dark hair and smiling eyes. In a few days we were in love and, three months later, visiting her at her flat in East Berlin, I asked her to marry me. 　 "But that is impossible," Isolde said, her eyes brimming with tears. "The authorities would never let me leave the country." 　 I refused to take no for an answer, and finally convinced her that she must try to escape. On a map, we examined the communist borders stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea and considered how we'd slip out. By that time (July 1965), all the standard means of escape such as a break through the Berlin Wall, were too risky. 　 Suddenly, to my own astonishment, I heard myself say, "I'll fly you out Isolde." 　 Her eyebrows shot up. "But I didn't know you were a pilot." 　 "I'm not," I admitted. I had never been in a cockpit in my life. But I will go back to Sweden and learn to fly, and then I'll fetch you." Isolde looked at me as if I were crazy but before the evening was over, she agreed that a small plane was our best chance. 　 The trouble was that, within an hour of my first lesson in Stockholm, I learned that flying definitely was not my strong point. My coordination was poor, my depth perception and sense of balance wretched. 　 But I kept at it, and eventually I was learning how to execute ludicrously inept landings. My instructor, however, was not encouraging. My persistence in flying too low over the treetops (one day I would have to fly that low to get in under the Communist radar beams) especially upset him. "Higher, higher!"  he'd shout. "We don't want to lose our plane!" 　 It took me nearly a year, 40 training hours in the air, to get my pilot's certificate. One August day in 1966, I got the precious document. I also succeeded in obtaining a tourist visa valid for two entries to Czechoslovakia, which we had decided was the country best suited for the rescue flight. 　 Next morning, Sunday, August 14, I took the train to Vienna and on Monday drove from there to the nearby check border in a hired car.  The frontier police examined my visa and painstakingly checked my car and luggage. I made myself relax. How were they to know that my real mission here was to find a suitable out of the way field in which to land and pick up Isolde? 　 I selected an abandoned pasture north of Bratislava and about 25 miles east of Vienna, near a point where the sombre, wooden guard towers were a little farther apart than usual. 　 Although there were no Cessnas  - the only plane with which I was familiar - available in Vienna, I learned that I could hire one in Salzburg, 155 miles away. I took the train there, and proved to an inspector at the airport that I could handle the plane. Then I managed to navigate the little aircraft back over the unfamiliar landscape to Vienna. 　 Everything was now ready. From Salzburg I had sent Isolde the coded telegram she had waited so long for. "MAGNUS ARRIVES AT 16.40 BRUNO." In the Swedish calendar, of which Isolde had a copy, each day has a special Christian name. Magnus was the following day, Friday, August 19 and I was asking Isoldeto meet me at the railway station in Brno, Czechoslovakia. 　 On Friday afternoon, I sped by car to Brno, 68 miles away. Isolde was there at the station. In our joy at being together again we forgot for an hour or so that the night held any problems for us. 　 By dinner, our laughter was hollow, our smiles frozen. We were aware that we might be celebrating our last meal. After dark we drove to the "escape field." I switched off the lights before leaving the road and crossed the pasture in the dark. 　 There was no time to waste. At any moment the tower's searchlight, slashing about in circles just 330 yards away, might spot the car. 　 "Hide there in the trees until morning," I told Isolde. "I"ll come just before dawn. When you see my plane, wave your scarf to show me where you are. And remember , whatever happens, I love you." 　 Back in Vienna two hours later, I was far too excited to sleep. instead, I wrote a letter to my parents in Sweden, telling them for the first time about Isolde, and asking for their understanding in case anything went wrong. At about 3 a.m. I checked out of the hotel and went to the airport where I explained that "urgent business in Salzburg" required me to take off just as soon as it was light. But I had hardly settled in the cockpit when the sky was split by jagged forks of lightning, followed by tremendous thunderclaps. Then the rain began to fall and I was unable to take off. 　 For two more hours I fumed and fretted, waiting for the storm to abate. Finally, at 8 o'clock sharp, I was cleared for takeoff. 　 Once outside the traffic pattern, I dived to treetop level to slip under the radar surveillance at the border. Hedge-hopping, I followed the main railway into Czechoslovakia, swept in between the two guard towers I'd chosen and skimmed over the empty pasture at an altitude of only 65 feet. 　 No familiar jumper, no waving red scarf. Isolde was not there. I banked, and rolled back towards the two guard towers. Terrified, I fully expected the soldiers, plainly visible on the towers, to open fire. But I had caught them off guard. 　 Safely back in Vienna I was utterly exhausted and worried sick about what might have happened to Isolde. There was only one thing to do. I hired another car and rushed back to Czechoslovakia, to the Bratislava hotel where we had planned to meet if anything went wrong. She was there, safe though badly shaken. 　 In her hiding place she had been drenched with rain, frightened by unfamiliar night sounds, and terrified when, at dawn, she had heard a burst of shots from the near-by border. Remembering our agreement that I would arrive shortly after the dawn she was afraid something had happened to me. Yet she had waited for me until full daylight, only then had she left her hiding place and found a road where, eventually, a motorist picked her up. 　 Despite her ordeal and knowing that a second attempt might be twice as dangerous, Isolde was eager to try again. "What other chance will we ever have, Hans?" She asked. 　 The following morning we set out north along the border searching for a new "escape field". We found it near the little town of Mikulow. It was well marked by a small lake and a tall pine grove which I believed I could easily see from the air. 　 I left Isolde there about 3.30 p.m., again promising to pick her up at dawn the next day, Monday August 22. 　 On the way back to Vienna I stopped briefly in several towns to make small sketches of the distinctive church steeples in each. These, I hoped, would help lead me back to the meadow. It was late afternoon when I stopped at the airport. Because the airport people were still friendly, I knew the Czech authorities had not lodged a complaint about my illegal morning flight. 　 Trying to sound casual, I asked the meteorologist, "What about the flying weather tomorrow, good?" 　 "No," he said. "Low hanging clouds are moving in early tonight." This meant that with my limited experience, takeoff and landing might be impossible by morning. The news hit me like a blow in the stomach. If all our efforts were not to be in vain, I would have to act quickly. It was now 5.30 and soon it would be getting dark. 　 I rushed over to the flight operations desk and tried to keep my voice level as I said, "I'd like to take a little exercise flight just to see the sunset." "Alright," said the flight dispatcher, but since you are not cleared for night flying you must be back by dusk-no later!" I knew I couldn't get back before dark, and I've never flown at night. But there was no time to worry about it. I dashed for my plane and took off. 　 Following the church steeples I'd sketched, I found my stretch of frontier, dived to an altitude of only 30 feet and leapfrogged a hill between two guard towers. Suddenly, right in front of me and less than 100 yards away, was a third tower I hadn't seen before. I missed the tower top by what seemed inches. A soldier opened his eyes wide with terror as I practically flew into his open mouth. 　 But the near-miss disorientated me. Where was the little lake, the tall pine grove where I had left Isolde. Circling, I found one lake, then another, but neither was ours. I broke into a cold sweat the light was fading fast. 　 With shaking hands, I took out my map and saw that there were only three lakes in the whole area. Climbing to get a broader view, I suddenly saw it, and saw to my enormous relief, OUR field beside it, our pine grove… and a tiny figure frantically waving a red scarf. 　 it was certainly one of the worst landings I ever made. I came in too high, overshot the field and had to break heavily to stop. Without a word Isolde jumped into the seat beside me. Almost instantly we were roaring up into the dusk in a take off as bad as the landing. I could almost hear the sound of machine-gun fire as I spiralled up as fast as I could. It was now quite dark and all the familiar landmarks had vanished. I did the only thing I could: took a compass heading of the opposite direction from which I had come. 　 Luck was with us. After some 20 acutely anxious minutes, we spotted in the distance a cluster of jewelled lights – Vienna!  – then the straight, beaded string of lights that marked the airport runway. I made my approach just as if it were daytime. When I thought the runway lights whizzing by looked big enough, I pulled up the plane's nose and made an amazingly smooth landing. 　 One last hurdle remained: the airport authorities must not see Isolde or back she might go. We had planned for her to slip away into the darkness of the big field. But just as she was getting out, a car from the control tower board down on us with blazing headlights. 　 "Hide!" I whispered. Isolde scrambled back into the baggage compartment and disappeared just before a furious air control officer pulled up. 　 "You've put us to a lot of bother tonight," he snapped. "We even contacted Czech Air Control to see if they'd seen or heard you." My heart sank. "They said they had, but only over Austria, and that's a good thing for you, mister. You can get into serious trouble blundering across the border!" 　 He drove away, and I taxied the plane to a hangar. As an attendant blinded by my lights, opened the hangar door, I told Isolde,  "Quick run for it."  She did, without being seen. I met her outside the field and we drove jubilantly into town. 　 Next morning I sneaked Isolde back aboard and flew her to West Germany, where I landed in a field and let her out. After returning my plane to Salzburg I rejoined her. It took her a month to get her papers, and on her 25th birthday she arrived in Stockholm. We were married in the white stone church where I'd been christened, and we left on our honeymoon by car. I no longer fly planes.”

-Hans Christian Cars, from a translation of “Flykten över järnridån”

[tricktster]

Sunset in Quipper’s new tank

Guys, while I’m on the subject, this fucking fish

This utter scoundrel of a baby boy

I was worried he was getting stressed out in the 2.5 gallon snail tank because, while Darkmantle is lazy not very active and would have been fine in there, it was way too small for the amount of sheer rage contained in Quipper. Bettas really need at least 5 gallons to thrive, which, of course, I know very well, but I, a jerk, had fallen in love with him at my local fish store and assumed that he could handle a few weeks in the little tank while I got his new home set up. My original plan was to get him set up in the 20 long when Taako and Lup moved into their new 40 gallon tank, but Quipper was doing repetitive behaviors, he wasn’t eating, and he didn’t have space to do the normal betta behavior of randomly darting around for no reason. That’s a solid recipe for a dead fish, and while everyone has fish die on them, I don’t let mine die of neglecting to give them an appropriate environment (she foreshadowed ironically.)

So. I go out, buy a 5.5 gallon Just For Quipper tank, and do what we in the biz call A Rush Job, which I would not advise you to do if you can avoid it. Generally you have to wait for around a month for your tank to cycle properly, but if you’re diligent with water changes and you use Seachem’s Stability to rapidly establish your bacteria colonies, you can safely put a fish in a new tank. I figured that it was the best play, rather than let Quipper get sick from another month of stress. 

I took a day to set up the hardscape and plants, a day to do a few water changes to get rid of all the gunk that comes off dragonstone even when you prescrub it (and boy oh boy do I have a story associated with that process vis a vis throwing out that gunk in my bathroom garbage, where it was later discovered by a cleaning woman, who almost certainly thought it was human poop), and then I put the little boy in his new home two days ago. 

I was traveling for work all day yesterday, and when I got home, I couldn’t find Quipper. Generally, not being able to find a fish is not concerning because I give them lots of hiding places, but after an hour or so passed and he hadn’t materialized, I launched an investigation. I was about ready to concede that he had.... somehow, squeezed through the 2 mm crack of the lid and jumped out (and then vanished?), when I finally found him. He was pressed between a rock and the right wall glass, and he was not moving at all. He looked dead. 

I immediately started to excavate, already overwhelmed with guilt. See, during the first few days of a new tank, things settle into place. I figured that Quipper had found a little hole to explore, as he is wont to do, and then the hardscape settled, crushing him slowly between the rock and the glass. This meant, of course, that because I hadn’t waited for things to settle, because I had rushed him into the new tank, because I was negligent in assuming he’d be fine to chill for a few weeks in the old tank, that I was a murderer. Here I was, being all sanctimonious about not letting my fish die from neglect, and this was all my faulttttttttt. 

When I got the rock out, he just flopped to the substrate, curled up like the proverbial dead fish. He was the shape of the letter C. His eyes were black and dull. He was just barely breathing through his gills. I was 95% certain his spine was broken, but I held out the tiniest sliver of hope, because he was in fact breathing, and sometimes stunned fish look a lot like dead fish. Two hours later, when the situation hadn’t changed, I had begun googling “how to euthanize betta humanely,” when he swam (pathetically, brokenly) to the surface and began gulping air. 

Bettas have gills, but they can breathe surface air through a rudimentary lung-type structure called a labyrinth organ, which is one of the reasons you see them surviving (though not thriving) in tiny, unfiltered vases etc. The other reason, of course, is that they’re tremendously hardy fish. I was really hoping that Quipper was supernaturally hardy, even for a betta, so I gently helped him over to the top of the filter, where he could rest out of the current and only need to swim a centimeter or so up to the surface for air, and I crossed my fingers. 

Two hours later, he hadn’t moved and I had to go to bed. I resigned myself to almost certainly wake up this morning to a dead fish. The night passed with fretful dreams of every fish I’ve ever known telling me that I was a failure, and when I woke up, I morosely went over to check on Quipper. 

That little bastard boy was swimming around like nothing had happened. 

His spine appears to have miraculously straightened, his appetite has returned, he even built a bubble nest. He seems altogether thrilled with the new environment, and right back to his old angry self. Those photos up there, where he’s posing like a show betta? I took those tonight. He’s watching me type and occasionally flaring at me right now, which, frankly, I deserve. 

Sorry little buddy, hope the expensive new digs (and spectacular backlighting) make it up to you at least a little. 

[blue-bird-lamentation]

this the story post: melohax[.]tumblr[.]com/post/639167543643340800/warning-spoilers-ahoy-only-read-this-if-youve the game has like so many secret scenes it shocked me

Thank you so much for the link!!!

I really liked reading it. I tried to skip the hikikomori route part as I will try to calmly play it, but I‘ve read a few and, as a person who saw that seen of a man trying to cut a tree and saying “you’re not my son” it intrigued me a lot what kind of information I will get from there.

I’m still puzzled and still didn’t try to see what would happen if I collected the wrong letters and if I has opened the door to Mari.

I went far on this answer and wrote a lot of random topics that are also mentioned in that post and other things I remembered too. It’s still too messy, but my memory is fresh and I decided to write about what I was thinking, even if not organized. Sorry for using your ask, but I was inspired by the link, which I think it’s a very interesting reading. I’m also sorry for the mistakes and I may come back later to correct them. There are so many fascinating things in the game, and so many others I haven’t yet explored, besided I feel good writting all of this as it is kind of asfixiating to thing about it and not having anyone to discuss it with.

This game was a rollercoaster. I knew from the begining that the cute artstyle and the pastel colours in the begining were deceiving, especially when you start in a weird whitespace room and take a knife. Omori as a black and white coloured character among the other paster colours also felt weird.

One really interesting comment I received from my brother when he watched me playing a bit, in a fight, was  “oh your character is the real neutral one, the others seem happy” while all of them were in neutral mode. Also his happy expression was scary and he was the one who got to maniac aside from villains (at least for me). The fact he has a knife intrigued me a lot if I should really fight but at first it looked like there were no consequences (aside from feeling tremendously bad for being called bunny killer. Also about these little enemies, it’s interesting how many of them were bunnies when the person we find who has a bunny is Aubrey, which is also the girl from the group that is now “against us”, at least most of the time in the real world).

Also about the knife, there are two other moments that totally hit me:

- the suicide in whitespace, which could foreshadow his suicide in some routes, but is also the means to wake up;

- Kel and Aubrey in the real world who call us out for bringing a knife, which, since the begining, was the correct thing to do.

I really wonder a lot about his family and their decisions.

It’s been 4 years. I wonder if Sunny’s mom ever put him into some kind of therapy, I wonder if her absence was on purpose because she wanted him to say goodbye to his old friends one last time. I wonder if Kel’s visit wasn’t a coincidence. I wonder if Hero coming back was also part of a last chance to bring Sunny back. I don’t know if the other route answers it, but seeing the notes and messages that mother leaves, she seems to be worried about him. I would say a mix of worry and fear, so there must be some strong reason why she’s not there besides going to buy some furniture or whatever.

Saying this, I think only Sunny’s parents know more or less what happened, but not from their son’s mouth, from autopsy report perhaps. The house was adapted to the changes: no family picture, as opposed to what I saw in Kel’s house (and I wonder if it’s only because of Mari or also with his father too as described by the cutting tree scene. I had thought this was directed to Omori and not to Sunny, but this is also part of the dream realm, so it could be Sunny’s interpretation to the end of his parents marriage which was related to Mari’s death), Mari’s bed is gone (which made the scene when she knocks the door even creepier. I never got to open the door because I was scared, but I’m also curious). Also about the 4 years,  I liked the detail of the 4th floor sign in Last Resort, which was resting there on the floor, as the number is also cursed because it symbolizes death.

I find fascinating how the complexity of the situation is represented in the dream world. His team is composed by his old friends, which are human. Mari and Basil are also human but they weren’t totally present. Mari is the safe point and overprotective of Omori, but she is also the element who encourages him to face his fears. As he faces his fears, he unravels more information about what he repressed, also helped by the presence of the blackspace Basil. But it’s ironic as the more he unravels, the more corrupted the story seems to evolve, but also the more they lose the main purpose of rescuing Basil, which is more evident in the deeper well.

I believe the human figures are the most important to him, and then there are the elements that combine real world figures with fantasy, as the candyshop girl and the fiction space boyfriend. Each story is fascinating but it also makes you lose focus on what you were supposed to do. And in my case, there was a point where I just wanted to wander around in these stories because I was to afraid to face the real story that was masked by this fictional colourful world.

These olde friends represent perhaps what Sunny never wanted to have lost, but also what he does not want to face.

When Sunny woke up in the hospital, I first followed the kids, and no, that wasn’t the right path. That was the safe path, where there is no confrontation with reality. As it was when Sunny was with company. I think it is Aubrey who says he doesn’t like to be alone, and well, that was me the whole game, imploring to not be left alone, because once the character was alone, his world seemed to be corrupted by the black space, which was also a stepping stone to reach the truth, the dark truth.

And I really like how this is all Sunny’s mental effort, which, I would say, it’s helped by him leaving his house and meeting his friends once again, as well as facing Basil one more time.

I was really sad with how the story developed. What started I was assuming it was a facing your fears story, transformed into an overcoming someone’s death, which at first I thought it would be Basil’s, to go to Mari (which was a total mystery to me why had she died (my ingenuity believed it could have been some traffic accident or something else) at first), to go to save Basil again, but now with some dark remarks about the character himself. In the middle of this development, first time the character wakes up, it is clear that the dream world character is not the same as the real world one, age wise, but is part of him.

I had written that at first I was reluctant about the fights, but well, they were necessary to me to face the villains of each arc. But at the same time thery were never too difficult (I think the most difficult part to me was to be strong enough for the Dino Dig and the rest was pretty easy). When, at the end Sunny had to face Omori I was shocked. So, the guy I had been training which was very seemingly sadistic, did I simply train him so that if Sunny wanted to face his trauma, he would hunt him with his strenght? Like the stronger I made him, ther bigger the reluctance to overcome the past. And while this sadistic character seems to be what I would compare to a Chara in Undertale, to me it was the harsh self conscious, critical part of him who could never forgive for what he had done. And which was also manifested as the monster surrounding him and Basil. It was their perception that what they had done was unforgivable, but at the same time neither of them wanted to carry that burden alone: Sunny “forgot” it, Basil manifests it by making those toxic remarks like “you aren’t going to leave me alone again, are you?”.

I don’t know if we get to see more of Basil’s backstory but he also got me curious. I think that what both of them did was bad, but given what happened between Sunny and Mari, it was really hard to know how to face it. I don’t think it makes them willingly villains, but scared children who were very self conscious and didn’t know what would happen if people found it out.

However, hadn’t Basil been there, Sunny would have been found right away next to Mari’s corpse. So I wonder what led Basil to propose such idea and to make Sunny’s burden heavier, which made him ambiguity of his disappearance with the will to save him as a friend.

I don’t think it was an ill intention, but Basil created excuses to protect Sunny because he was important to him and to the group. As the photo album showed, Sunny was the younger element, seen as the baby of the group, and he was shy, but he loved his friends even if he looked the most expressionless.

I think these elements awoke in him the need to protect Sunny from the darkness that lied ahead his actions, but he didn’t realise how heavy of a burden that would be. At the same time he probably had some issued regardin expectations and self worth which probably told him that they could never be tied to such a cruel action, even if it was accidental.

In my perspective he didn’t see the dark shadow surrounding Sunny at the time, but he engraved the memory as an act not commited by Sunny but by something surrounding him, pretty much like when he started attacking him at the end.

I like to think that, good ending wise, the malevolent side, Omori is not necessarily a potential evil that was always within Sunny, but the self guilt and lack of self worth. The fact the Sunny wouldn’t leave the house and didn’t even take good care of his health shows it. He is self destructive, because guilt consumes him, not a person who needs to apply suffering in the outter world for his own satisfaction. The whole struggle is within Sunny and not ot become a bad person per se.

Some of Basil’s dialogue was too much for me, mainly when he kept repeating for Sunny to not leave him. However I totally understand why. Sunny covered the what had happened while Sunny had to live those years knowing what they had done, as if he was the only one carrying the burden.

It’s a real complicated story where everyone was the victim.

It was so hard to see how sad and angry Aubrey was, and how she had to make new friends to overcome, how alone she was all the time. How Kel kept being such a good person, however had to move away because he didn’t know how to face the others, afraid of being misinterpreted. Hero’s pictures with Mari break me everytime. “A match made in heaven” Basil had written in the description of one of the photos. The fact that he is the element in the group that cooks, but 4 years later he had given up. The fact he can’t face Mari’s grave. The way Kel describes his struggle over Mari’s death. The way he didn’t make new friends in college, although he says it was lack of time. Basil is completely broken and can’t even touch the camera anymore and tries to “destroy” the old memories, which Aubrey discovers. Sunny’s parents, as their life turned upside down. And probably everyone around was too afraid to know how to act around them.

I really like how despite everything, the human figure that Sunny creates of Mari is forgiveful and so cheerful. Mari is such a good influence that wants to help him overcome the trauma for himself (especially when she helps him overcoming the fear of drowning and calls him Sunny for the first time. The ways she asked for his forgiveness for pushing him so hard into playing the recital. It is still part of Sunny’s dream but it’s so in Mari’s character. I believe this part is also connected to the scene where we see her saving Sunny in the real world).

I will end this text here. I will eventually come back to it, and to the omori tag, because this is certainly a very good game with a lot of space for debate and reflection.

[jeontaeh]

〚TWENTY THREE〛

"I disagree. I personally think some of Kinney's best word was exhibited in the fourth adaptation, Dog Days. Though the third was intriguing and impeccable, the fourth added the childish essence to the novel, and played with the theme of the ambiguity of being a teenager profoundly."

"Are you talking about the Diary Of A Wimpy Kid series?"

"What else?"

"I hate you guys," Jungkook said, and Jimin began laughing. They were on the staircase in the courtyard outside the food hall. Taehyung was sitting with them for once, but he was leaning against the steps lazily, scrolling through his phone, not paying attention to the conversation.

"Go hang out with your new best friend then, Jeon." Jimin snickered, and Jungkook looked at him with confusion.

"Huh?"

"You've been chilling with that newbie every day," Jin explained, and Taehyung looked up from his phone.

"I swear- Jackson's little squad gets gayer with every new addition," Yoongi scoffed, and Jungkook looked at him.

"I think they're nice," Jungkook said, and Yoongi hummed, resting his head against the steps. "Plus, they're really good at football." Jungkook continued.

"Don't stop 'em from being fags," Yoongi snorted, and then Hoseok laughed at his abruptness and high-fived him. Jeez, what were they, 5? Taehyung snickered. Jungkook looked down, playing with the fold of his shoes. "No need to be mean, Yoongi. Just 'cause they're close-"

"Shut up, Jungkook. I'm just making a joke, stop getting so pissed over everything." Yoongi snapped, and Jungkook stilled.

"Sorry," Jungkook said quickly, and there was odd silence.

"What're you being such an asshole for?" Taehyung said to Yoongi, and Jungkook almost scoffed. He rather have Yoongi call him a fat mushroom than Taehyung talk about someone else being an asshole. Fucking ironic.

"Says you!" Yoongi said, looking at him. "Just go... make out with someone's girlfriend."

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin went ooohhh and Taehyung rose his eyebrow. Jungkook giggled and then saw Jackson and his friends at the bottom of his steps. Jungkook waved his hand. "Ah great, it's those loud fucks again," Yoongi mumbled, seeing the seven of those boys walk up to them, all rowdy and loud and making a tremendous amount of noise.

"What're all of you sitting here all sad and shit for?" Jackson asked, and Jimiin shrugged.

"We're being edgy teens, leave us alone," Jimin said, and Mark ruffled his hair.

"Hey," Yugyeom said, and Jungkook looked up and smiled brightly. "Hi."

"You didn't text me back this morning," Yugyeom said softly, kneeling down to sit in front of him. Jungkook sat up to be a little closer to him. "I was in a rush, sorry," Jungkook responded, and Yugyeom pinched his cheek.

"Don't worry about it," Yugyeom said, and then sat down beside him. Jungkook smiled, and then looked to the side and saw Taehyung looking at him. The moment Jungkook saw him looking, Taehyung looked away.

"Yo, Youngjae- where'd you get that bruise from?" Namjoon asked, and everyone looked at Youngjae, who had a fading bruise on his cheek "Um- nothing. I fell." Youngjae said quickly. Jackson scoffed. "More like you got beat up. He won't tell us who busted his pussy ass."

Taehyung was looking at his phone again. Jimin and Jungkook were silent. "No one punched me, chill, Jackson," Youngjae said, and Jackson slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Well, anyways. Are you guys coming for the winter barbeque thing happening tomorrow night?" Jackson asked.

"Sure. I'm not one to put down meat," Jin said, and Jimin rolled his eyes. "Fucking meat eaters."

"Jimin, you're not vegan!"

"I could be if I wanted to!"

"We'll be there," Namjoon said, and Jackson nodded, and then he and the rest of them walked up the steps and into the lunch hall, but Yugyeom stayed, talking to Jungkook.

Taehyung looked, and the two were giggling about something. Jungkook whispered something, and then Yugyeom booped his nose and Jungkook blushed. "Your friends left, newbie." Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook sighed softly to himself, looking at the grey-haired boy. "What, you just gonna stick around here?"

Yugyeom paled a little, and then patted Jungkook's thigh. "I was... talking to Jungkook about something-"

"I don't care- just- fuck off." Taehyung snarked lowly, and Yugyeom looked at Jungkook, hoping he'd say something.

But Jungkook was looking at Taehyung with his big eyes, and Yugyeom couldn't help but notice how they were almost a little glittery, not annoyed. So he hummed, stood up, and walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What the fuck was that?" Hoseok asked in confusion, Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon looking the same, while Jimin sat there silently, biting his bottom lip to not laugh.

Jungkook looked at Taehyung for a few seconds, and Taehyung looked back at him. Jungkook just blinked, and Taehyung exhaled sharply and then looked away. "Seriously, why are they just looking at each other?"

Jungkook knew Taehyung cared. Knew he couldn't stand seeing Jungkook being close to another guy. Knew he couldn't stand seeing Yugyeom being all touchy with Jungkook and making him giggle.

Oh, the fucking audacity.

How dare he be angry about who Jungkook's with when he's done nothing but fuck girls and make out with them in the middle of the hallways. His fingers are probably pruned up from how many pussies they've been up! Okay, Jungkook needs to calm down.

"Don't need to be mean, V," Jungkook said, and Taehyung looked at him. "Yugyeom's nice."

Taehyung bored his eyes into his for a few seconds, and then stood up and walked down the stairs, walking away.

"Can someone please explain-" Hoseok started weakly.

"Don't worry about it," Jungkook said and then smiled a little to himself. "He's fine."

V wasn't fine. Jungkook could tell. But god, he's glad to see him wearing the other shoe for once. Because Jungkook hated him. Hated him with every cell in his body.

///

Jungkook and Taehyung made out.

Nope- there were many many things leading up to that moment, many things. But god fucking damnit, Jungkook and Taehyung made out.

That's not what Jungkook saw happening. But it did. And now Jungkook didn't know what to do or how to feel.

See, it was a cold Friday night. There was a lovely barbeque dinner happening in the courtyard, along with a bonfire. Kids were sitting in circles around the fire or talking in their little groups, singing, chatting, laughing. Everyone was having fun.

Jungkook walked up to a big circle of his friends sitting around the fire. "Gee- it's really cold, huh?"

"Y-yeah- it's- fu-fucking- freezing. I hate it." Jimin stammered, his face pale and cheeks extra rosy. Everyone was wearing mittens or beanies or big thick jackets.

"Are you fucking wearing uggs?!"

"Leave me alone, please. It is cold, and I am merely a man,"

"Not with uggs on!" "Yoongi, leave Bambam alone. He's doing his best." Jin said, and the boys laughed. Bambam looked mad, but everyone was so cold, that there was almost a relaxed warmth in the air.

Jungkook looked around the circle, and holy shit, Yugyeom was sitting next to Taehyung. Holy shit, this was good. Holy fucking shit, this was definitely very good. Why and how were they sitting together anyway?

Either way, Taehyung didn't look as pissed. In fact, he looked cute. Really really cute. He was in a big black coat and black jeans, wearing a red beanie which complimented his silver hair. Fuck, he looked really cute. Jungkook would've melted if it wasn't so cold. And if Taehyung wasn't such an asshole.

See, him being a complete dickbag really put things in retrospect.

"I don't have a seat," Jungkook said, pouting a little.

"What're you talking about there's a stool right behind y-" Namjoon started.

Jungkook took that stool and fucking threw it across the courtyard, seeing it hit some 14-year-old boy who probably fainted or whatever. Jungkook turned back to face the circle. "I don't have a seat," Jungkook said again, pouting harder.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook, looked like he was about to say something, but then stopped, and turned to look at Mark, and continued talking. Jungkook paused and then looked at Yugyeom, who was sitting idly, talking to Jackson behind him.

Jungkook walked across the circle and to Yugyeom. "Hey," Jungkook said, and Yugyeom looked at him.

"Oh, hey Kookie. What's up?" Yugyeom asked.

"I don't-"

"He doesn't have a seat!" Jimin said loudly, and Jungkook flushed, and then looked at Yugyeom and smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, well, I have one," Yugyeom smirked, and Taehyung turned just in time to see Yugyeom grab Jungkook's waist and pull him onto his lap.

God, if Jungkook could only capture the way Taehyung's smile fell, and eyebrows furrowed. How fast, how instantaneously his eyes turned darker, and his aura just changed. Like that.

Jungkook felt Yugyeom wrap his arms around his waist. "Your waist is really small," Yugyeom pointed out, and Jungkook blushed a little. Taehyung sat beside them, and Jungkook didn't know what went over his mind in that second, but he sounded hesitant. "Newbie, the teacher's calling you," Taehyung said quickly, and Jungkook ignored him, pretended he didn't hear that while listening to Jackson talk about something.

"Oh- um- I'll just go to her later," Yugyeom said, and then turned his head towards Jackson again.

Taehyung looked away for a split second, his hands growing fidgety, almost growing nervous. "Kim, stop being such an asshat, just-" Taehyung started, but then didn't know what to say. Yugyeom looked at him.

"Dude, what's your fucking deal?" Yugyeom snapped, seemingly having had enough, and Taehyung's chest was heaving, looking really pissed off.

Jungkook turned his head to look at Yugyeom. "You alright?" Jungkook asked him, their faces close.

"Yeah, m'fine." Yugyeom said, and then patted his butt lightly.

That seemed to have done it. "My deal," Taehyung started, voice low and raspy. "Is that you're being a little bitch;" Taehyung growled, and then Jungkook felt two strong hands grip his waist, and then literally pull him off Yugyeom's lap. Jungkook turned his head with his widened eyes, and then realized he was on Taehyung's lap.

Yugyeom's eyes widened too, everyone seemed to have shut up and see what was going on- and why Jungkook was on Taehyung's lap.

"Oh," Yugyeom let out, sounding certain, and a little disappointed.

Jungkook grabbed Taehyung's shoulders to make sure he didn't fall off, but his eyes were still big in shock. "W-what're you doing?" He whispered in utter confusion.

And for a moment, Jungkook wondered if Taehyung was going to grab him right there and kiss him really hard.

But he didn't.

Instead, Taehyung looked at Jungkook for a few seconds, blinking hesitantly, and then looked over Jungkook's shoulder, and saw Jimin looking at the two of them with widened eyes. That's when Taehyung remembered.

"Nothing," Taehyung said loudly, and then pushed Jungkook off his lap. "Fuck off," He snapped, and then stood up and walked away rather quickly, annoyance visible in the way he walked.

Jungkook got pushed onto the floor, and Yugyeom looked at him in confusion. "Kook- you alright-" Yugyeom started, reaching for him- but before he could, Jungkook stood up and rushed after Taehyung.

Yugyeom sighed, shoulders dropping a little. He looked back ahead and saw Jimin looking at him with slight worry.

Jungkook rushed up to Taehyung, who was walking towards the back of the school. "V!" Jungkook called, not sure if he sounded angry or confused or desperate or a weird mixture of all three.

Taehyung kept walking, but Jungkook ran up to him and then pushed him. Taehyung stumbled and then turned around, eyes hooded from how loose strands of his hair was falling on his face.

"What's your problem??" Jungkook snapped, breathing heavily. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

Taehyung didn't speak, just continued looking down. "You have some guts, V. Being such an asshole to Yugyeom, being such an asshole to me-" "Jungkook.." Taehyung trailed, walking closer to him."

"Don't. Don't talk to me. I see you with another girl every other hour- but you can't handle me being friends with a guy??" Jungkook said, anger consuming him. "What's wrong with you? What fucking right do you have getting jealous?"

Taehyung walked another step closer, and Jungkook didn't understand the lack of response but took it as a nod to keep going. "You're a homophobic piece of shit in denial, and you're taking all your anger out on Yugyeom because every fucking thing just has to go the way you want it to, and-"

Taehyung grabbed Jungkook close, moved forward so Jungkook was pressed against the wall, and then pressed their lips together.

Jungkook paused for a moment, felt his breathing hitch when their lips met, and then took all the power he had in his hands to push Taehyung off.

Taehyung stumbled back, and then Jungkook finally saw his eyes. Completely confused and a little in shock by his own actions. Jungkook gulped Jungkook doesn't know what happened. He doesn't think Taehyung does either. But something struck them at the same second, and they both reached forward to grab one another and press their lips together again.

And fuck, it was that feeling of being away from home for too long and then finally getting to sleep in your bed again. That perfect, perfect balance of intimacy and warmth.

Jungkook was pushed against the wall. Taehyung grabbed his waist tighter. Jungkook pulled at his hair harder. They slid down until they were on the floor, Jungkook with his back to the wall, Taehyung between his legs. The cold that surrounded them suddenly seemed hot, so hot.

They pulled away for a second for a breath, but that tick of a second said way too much. Taehyung nudges his nose against Jungkook's silently, and Jungkook threw his arms around Taehyung's shoulders and kissed him hard, rough. It was messy, oh-so messy, with their tongues tangled and lips damp and, fuck- they were needy.

Taehyung heard Jungkook whimper and leaned forward to kiss him harder. Jungkook tilted his head to let his tongue enter his mouth, until all he could taste was Taehyung's tongue against his, their lips conjoined. Before it could go any more intense, they heard a loud gasp.

Taehyung pulled away in an instant, and they both turned to see- for fuck's sake- Youngjae.

He stood there with his eyes wide, looking petrified. "O-oh my god- I-I'm so sorry- I-I was just-" He tried piecing together. Jungkook cursed under his breath, and Taehyung scrambled away from Jungkook, standing up now.

Taehyung looked thrown off, a million thoughts going through his head, a gateway of regret and guilt and confusion all opening up in his mind, alarms going off which only confused him further. In a flux of frustration and annoyance, Taehyung rushed off, not bothering to look at Jungkook or Youngjae.

Jungkook breath heavily, standing up. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and looked at Youngjae oddly, gulping.

"Sorry. I- I was just trying to get to the-"

"It's fine." Jungkook cut him off and then cleared his throat. "Please... don't tell anyone."

"I-I won't," Youngjae said quickly, and Jungkook nodded.

He looked away. God fucking damnit. Jungkook just made out with Taehyung. And now his heart was racing at a thousand miles a second, and his stomach was overloading with an infestation of heart-eyed-butterflies.

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647264179113394176/twenty-four