#i thought i was going to have to knife fight a bunch of men who believe in evopsych and 'peak fertility'. again.

[weepycat]

a post i made three years about how you shouldnt find teenagers sexually attractive as an adult is blowing up, and i swear to god i was filled with dread until my activity page loaded and the notes were full of people agreeing with me

[keravnous]

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

dating john wick - the playlist

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

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

word count: 10,6 k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could be you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will not die today

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

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

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

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

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

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

I will not die today

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

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

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

I will not die today

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

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

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

I will not die today

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

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

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

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

I will not die today

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will not fucking die today

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

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

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

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I will not die today, motherfucker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't", you breathe softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's the gun. And the knife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Heavy", you breathe.

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

John realizes he is fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it is also him.

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

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

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

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

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

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

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

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

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

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

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

John moans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kill him instead, please."

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

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

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

Easier to kill.

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

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[antiquarianfics]

Marry me? Nah. Marry me? Yeah.

4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

A/N: I have been working on this for the last day, so enjoy. HOWEVER, I wrote it on my phone and refuse to proof it. Warning(s): Some canon level violence, swearing. Note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

—

Proposal 1

The first time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you aren’t even dating. The two of you are paired on a mission to dismantle a HYDRA base hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. You had met before but never shared more than polite conversation. Steve had assured Bucky you weren’t scared of him, but that you wouldn’t push him to speak with you. Bucky never quite believed him, so he never attempted to converse with you either.

However, when you’re paired on this mission, you take that as the go-ahead to finally speak to him.

“So, Barnes,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your own, “guess we’ve got to come up with more conversation topics than the weather.”

“Guess so,” he replies.

It is during the mission he proposes. There are more HYDRA agents active than expected, and they come at the two of you guns blazing while you’re distracted setting up an explosive at a structural point of the complex.

“Y/L/N,” Bucky says to grab your attention, “we’ve got company.”

You bite your lip, finishing your task before standing and pulling your rifle from your back, preparing yourself for a fight.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this one,” you tease, shooting him a wink before unleashing precise kill shots before Bucky even thinks to pull his own trigger. After taking out a dozen soldiers, a few manage to get close to you, and you hit one in the head with the butt of your gun and then quickly pull a knife from a thigh holster while pivoting on your foot to slit another’s throat. You shoot the unconscious soldier in the head for good measure before wiping your knife on your pants.

With your knife returned to its home on your thigh, you look up at Bucky who is staring at you with a dumbfounded, albeit impressed, look on his face. You had taken out 14 men on your own. He was in love.

The words “marry me” slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and you laugh.

“Maybe buy me dinner first, Sarge.”

Proposal 2

The second time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you’re comforting him after a nightmare. It is late at night, at the point it was really morning, and you happen to hear his screams through his bedroom door.

You stop at his door, letting a frown set on your face before reaching out for his doorknob. You hesitate before opening it, wondering if he’ll appreciate you barging in on him in such a vulnerable state. Then, he screams again—louder—and you turn the doorknob, letting yourself in.

The sight you’re met with is heartbreaking. Bucky is tossing and turning, his sheets bunched at his feet, comforter on the ground. He’s sweating buckets and whimpering what sounds like, “Please, no. Not the chair. Please!” over and over again. You choke back a sob before crossing over to him, gently lying a comforting hand on his shoulder and calling out his name.

“Bucky, honey, wake up. It’s just a dream, hun.”

The touch and sudden sound wake him up from what is truly a light sleep. Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, right hand shooting out to grab the hand touching him, and eyes darting around the room until they land on you.

“Shh,” you coo, “you’re okay, Bucky. It’s me, Y/N. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Bucky’s heart rate slows to a normal pace, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N?” He asks hesitantly. “W-what are you doing here?” His voice is small, like a terrified child’s, and you can’t help but frown at the thought.

You let your hand move to cup his face, noting that he relaxes at the gentle touch, leaning his face ever so slightly into your touch.

“I was headed to the kitchen and I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He nods, eyes searching yours for some sort of anger or resentment for bothering you. He doesn’t find any.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” You ask kindly.

“Um,” Bucky says, voice shaky. “Would you mind—you don’t have to—but would you mind staying with me? Only if you want.”

You smile kindly, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before climbing into his bed with him, pulling his head close to your chest.

“When I was little, I lived in a house in the woods for a while,” you say randomly, catching Bucky’s attention. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of confusion, but he says nothing. “At dinner one night, I look out the glass door onto the porch. Wanna know what I saw?”

Bucky hums his agreement as your hand works it’s way into his hair and your fingers begin to massage his scalp.

“4 raccoons!” You exclaim. “3 babies and a mama. We had a toddler slide on the porch at the time,” you continue, “and the baby raccoons kept climbing the little ladder and sliding down. The mama just sat a little bit away and watched and stole cat food occasionally.”

Bucky chuckles, finding your story cute but also recognizing your attempt to distract and soothe him after his nightmare. He appreciates it more than he himself understands; he is comforted by your voice more than he feels he should be. He lets the proposal slip a second time: “Marry me?”

You grin and press a kiss to his head.

“Not yet, hun.”

Proposal 3

The third proposal comes after the two of you begin dating.

Bucky takes you out on a date to a little coffee shop in Brooklyn you both had become fond of. You’re standing to the side of the café, out of the way, waiting on your order. Bucky has his right arm around your shoulders while you lean into him; his left hand stuck in his jacket pocket.

“So Natasha’s screaming at Clint to show himself so that she can kill him, right? Like, she was so fucking pissed at him. And Clint is in the fucking air vents—like those big ones people crawl through in action movies—hiding from her. Over a remote, Bucky!” You excitedly recount one of the most ridiculous encounters you’ve ever had with the Avengers to your boyfriend who is quietly listening with a fond smile.

“Like, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ my ass,” you scoff. You’re about to add another thought to the discussion when you hear someone else’s conversation from a few feet away.

Bucky tenses. You tense.

“Personally, I think they should’ve carted him off to the South, or somethin’, and put him in the chair,” a younger man—college age—says. “The death penalty, y’know? An eye for an eye, and all that. I mean, the guy killed a lot of people.”

“Fuck, man,” his companion, another college aged man, says. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, he’s also like a war hero and a prisoner of war.”

“He killed innocent people, man. Like, people’s kids and shit.”

“I guess.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, and he also tightens his grip on your waist when he feels you start to move away from him.

“It’s fine, doll,” he assures you, but he doesn’t seem fine to you.

The barista calls out “Barnes” and Bucky kisses the top of your head before moving to grab your drinks. You, however, take the opportunity to address the disrespectful boys while your boyfriend isn’t holding you back.

“Excuse me,” you say, walking up to them.

“Fuck!” One says, jumping a little. “You’re an Avenger.”

“Mhmm,” you agree. “So is Sergeant Barnes who you so innocently suggested deserves the chair.” You jam a finger into his chest.

“You have absolutely no fucking right to talk about him that way. He gave his life for this fucking country; fought alongside your grandparents. The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Shit. It’s not like my opinion is gonna change anything.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from the college kids and into his side. He leans close to your ear to whisper, “Doll, it’s fine. Come on.”

He pulls you out of the coffee shop before you have time to protest.

Walking down the street, you’re ranting, letting your arms flail around angrily.

“What the actual fuck is their problem?! You can have your obviously wrong opinions, but why would you express them so loudly in front of the person you’re talking about? You’re a fucking Avenger. You’re a good man. Why would they pardon you if you weren’t? Why would the Avengers adopt you as one of our own if you weren’t? Pieces of shit! Hateful, fascist, brain dead, ungrateful, military-hating, assholes!”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at your insults, and he can’t help but feel flattered that you care enough to defend him.

“Sweetheart, it’s really fine. I’m used to it,” he assures you, finally handing you your coffee he’d been balancing in his hand.

You take it, but shoot him an incredulous look.

“Like hell it’s okay! You deserve better than that bullshit, Bucky. You deserve to go out on a date with your girlfriend without being fucking harassed.”

Bucky pulls you into his side, kissing your head like he had earlier, and murmurs into your hair his third proposal.

“Marry me.”

You smile softly.

“Nah,” you say, leaning into his hold. He laughs.

Proposal 4

The fourth time Bucky proposes to you, it’s less direct.

In fact, you’re in the field, lying on your back in Bucky’s arms while he frantically puts pressure on a bullet wound in your gut.

“Steve,” he says into the coms, “Y/N’s down. She got shot. I’ve got to get her back to the jet.”

“Go,” Steve responds quickly, “I’ll cover you.”

Bucky’s attention falls to you, grimacing at the blood covering his hands.

“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you,” he says, lifting you into his arms as gently as you can.

“I’m fiiinnneee,” you slur, unsteadily and awkwardly reaching to pat his face. Your action, meant to be comforting, only adds to your boyfriend’s anxiety.

“Doll, you’ve been shot, and it isn’t a clean wound.”

“That’s nothin’!”

Bucky grunts indignantly in response.

Finally, he gets you back to the jet, moving through the aircraft quickly to get you to a stretcher to triage you best he can. When there is nothing more he can do, he holds your hand, doing his best not to cry or show how scared he is.

“Y/N, stay awake for me, alright?” He pleads, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes flutter open and you smile goofily.

“No worries, Doll,” you giggle as you call him by the pet name he reserves for you. “I’m A-Okay.”

Bucky scoffs.

“You’re bleeding out.”

“You fixed me.”

“Not fully; I put a bandaid on you really.”

“Silly. Bandaids fix you!” You try to comfort, but you fall into a laughing fit.

“Doll, I need you to take this seriously so you make it. You’ve gotta marry me.”

“You didn’t ask me to!” You say, narrowing your eyes and pointing accusingly.

Bucky smiles at your antics.

“Marry me, Doll?”

You smile fondly as you stare up at Bucky.

“Ask me again when I’m not bleeding out.”

Proposal 5

The fifth time Bucky Barnes proposes to you is the last time.

You convince the super soldier to go hiking with you; you argue he deserves to sit and watch a waterfall with his girlfriend. He gives in easily because you’re not easy for him to say no to.

The two of you find a local hiking trail that leads to a decent sized waterfall, and you’re pleased to find the trail is mostly deserted. You only run into a few stray hikers along the trail.

Bucky smiles as you hike, watching as you excitedly stop to watch centipedes cross the path, or point out woodpeckers, or smell flowers. Finally, the two of you reach the waterfall and you squeal in excitement, running a few paces ahead of Bucky and jumping to let out some excited energy.

“Buck, look! It’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, slowing to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes, watching the waterfall, listening to nature around you.

“Thank you for coming up here with with me,” you say, turning around to place a grateful kiss on Bucky’s lips. He gently returns the kiss before pulling away.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You peck his lips again before turning back to the waterfall.

“Look!” You say upon turning around. “Bucky, a rainbow!” The spray of the water and the beams of sunlight meet to display a rainbow in front of you.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, you curiously turn around.

“Bucky? Oh!”

Bucky is on one knee, a ring box open in his hands, held out to you.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

There is no speech, there is no absurd gesture. There is just Bucky, and there is just a question.

It’s perfect.

“Yes.”

“Finally.”

[ozzgin]

hi! I'm the anon who said that Daitou is my #1 sweetheart, and I saw your post talking about time-skip Daitou kind in dilf vibes... I'm interested, take all of my money right now !!

also wondering how Daitou would react with a darling who wants kids 💭💭 imagine of she is having a hugeee baby fever ( not me projecting whattt)

Turning this into a general "Would the yakuza men want children?" and other bedroom habits. There's a more detailed answer for Daitou here. Content: female reader (pregnancy talk), mildly NSFW, fluff

You may think of Boss as old-fashioned, but he's seen a fair amount of depravity back in the day. Before gambling was deemed illegal in Japan, he'd owned several casinos in big districts like Ginza and Kabukichō, and consequently spent a lot of time in various parlors. Unlike many of his men, however, he never really cared much for adult entertainment. In his drunken rants he used to say that women would be his downfall, and no one would want to be involved with him, anyways.

He might be into you calling him daddy, although you should expect a lot of dad jokes to go with it. He’s a silly old man like that. Could be interested in shibari, because it takes a lot of patience and skill and he’d probably enjoy taking his time and gazing at you after each knot. It’s quiet and intimate, and he gets to tease you about it afterwards, especially if it’s an arrangement to go under your clothes. “What’s the matter, (Y/N) love? Tongue tied?”

His recurring humor around his age makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in children. When you finally bring up the topic, Boss is very casual about it. “Sure”, he’ll say with a grin, “whatever the missus wants.” You suspect he’s not taking you seriously, but after settling you on his lap and having a hearty laugh about it, he’ll conclude, this time with confidence: “Have a look outside this room. See all those rascals? I raised them! Ya think I can’t handle a bunch of kids?”

Daitou can be surprisingly (and unintentionally) kinky, especially if you encourage him to. He’ll apologize the day after for being too rough, even if you tell him it's fine and you quite literally asked for it (See Valentine's Day incident). Overall, though, I’d say it depends entirely on you. He can be dominant or submissive, according to your wishes. You can go all out with him, he’s sturdier than most and takes great pride in it. If you’re into more extreme hobbies like knife play, you’re certainly in good hands.

Daitou lives in the moment and hasn't really planned too far ahead. Such is the life of a yakuza: you never know when you might lose a limb or more in the next gang fight. He's therefore quite surprised by your proposal of having children in the future. Is it even something realistic for someone like him? On the other hand, it's hard to refuse that enthusiastic smile you're flashing at him each time the topic comes up. "Do you, uh...", he begins one day while looking at baby toys in the store. He fidgets with his prosthetic eye nervously. "Do you really think I'd make a good dad? Heh."

Kazuya can be quite kinky and loves teasing you in public about it. Last time you were hanging out with him and his underlings, you happened to pass by a park bench you'd recently used during your nightly strolls together. “This location is familiar”, he’ll hum with a smirk. “Isn’t this where we…ah. Nevermind.” Despite your frequent protests, he always struggles to keep his mouth shut. Can you really blame him for wanting to brag to others? You're an undeniable catch.

"Kids?" he repeats with a raised eyebrow. Good question, although something he's considered many times already. What, you thought he wouldn't notice your curious glances whenever some woman walks by with a baby stroller? He pretends to ponder your suggestion and declares after a long moment: "Well, you'd certainly make a great milf, and I obviously can't have anyone else do the honors." He picks you up with a mischievous grin on his face. "When do we start?"

[Main Story] | [More Yakuza]

[pepper-makes-art]

relavity falls stans, graunts, n friends

oK THEYRE HERE NOW AND NOT JUST FIDDLEFORD!!!

fiddleford can be found here!!!

i wish i could've done more sketches but im a bit busy atm </3 will def do some on the weekends though!!

on the au:

instead of taking place in 2014, it takes place in 2024 now! which doesnt rlly change much outside of appearances and slang lol.

bold is what their au name is

stanford (ford) <--> dipper

pretty self explanatory! i feel like stanford'd be an x-men fan, hence the x patch on his shoulder lol. also yes, dipper is a trans woman here. and she has glasses bc fuck dude i hate drawing regular eyes.. i thought the design looked a bit empty, so i decided to make that cool glove thing ford had dipper's robot hand thingy!

stanley (lee) <--> mabel (mason)

stanley now wears a hat. hoorah. nothing much to say here besides him also smuggling shanklin in (w/o the knife unfortunately). mabel's still impersonating her sibling (who, before the portal scene, doesn't know that she's a girl now) under the name of mason, but has ultimately shed her sibling's fashion tastes for her own. mabel wears a turtleneck UNDER the suit bc she doesnt feel heat apparently!

candy <--> wendy

candy's now a 15 yo asian kid who took up the cashier job under grauntie bc she needed more extracurriculars and the experience. totally cant relate to that haha. wendy's now a 12 yo mischievous lil lumberjack who's best friends w/ stanley (i thought it'd be interesting since theyre all now still associated w each other) and who has ALL the middle school tea (which is A LOT)

grenda <--> soos

as much as i want the ages to line up relatively (haha get it.), i think it'd be funny if mabel just hired a bunch of teenagers to run the shack (not sure what to call it). grenda's the 15 yo handy(wo)man who has the voice of an angel and the golden mentality of "smash with couch"! soos is now a friendly n equally naive 12 yo who's best friends w stanely (yada yada) and who somehow always solves problems

on dipper and mabel (will be using he/him for pre-transition dipp):

hoo boy. i see SO many ppl arguing abt their relationship, and i just gotta say, i can tell who has siblings and who doesn't! (joke. thats a joke. mostly) anyways, theyre good siblings!! up until high school, where after drifting apart somewhat, they have a big argument abt where theyre going in life - dipper wants to go to insert rlly good college name and become a scientist while mabel, well, she doesn't know where she wants to go. unbeknownst to them, while theyre fighting, their parents are also fighting. suddenly, their parents split, and mabel is forced to live with her mom and dipper with his dad, far apart from each other. dipper (wearily) accepts this while mabel silently resents dipper for his submission

dipper attends his dream school but is unhappy in his schooling years. afterwards, with his 12 phds or whatever the hell, he goes to a quaint town named relativity falls... mabel becomes an artist of sorts, taking commissions n such, but finds that this doesn't exactly lead to profit. she then becomes a sort of con(wo)man and psychic in attempts to capitalize the strange. she DEF doesn't get into as much srs trouble as stanley did back in his day, but she still lands herself in hot water from scamming and stealing across state lines...

im tired rn so lmk if yall wanna hear more lol.

[rottweiler1]

❝𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝.❞

pairing: 141 x male!reader and maybe some los vaqueros + others

summary: the 141 needed a helping hand to protect the world, only 4 wasn't enough. they decided for a interesting 5th member. and seemingly, the 141's other allies were also intrigued.

word count: 962 (i told u so!!)

cw: violence, normal cod gore, angst, poorly translated scottish from google,

update: enemy dynamics (ghost and dino), some flustered soap + gaz + ghost

A/N: more information is that i might just pose 1 time a day or 2 times a day or none at all, really. i have a lot of drafts saved for this series but its only up to part 1 part 2 and part 3, enjoy though! -rottweiler

2/?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The boys stared up at the man with adornment, amazement, and.. annoyed. Simon was the one annoyed at this point, who was this man taking away his title of the Cold, Dark stoned man who could crack your skull in a bliss? Well a man who encountered Dino before and beated him in almost a bunch of combat when still in selection with Dino. Gaz and soap looked at each other and ran to the tall man, shouting out questions and.. some curious touching. 2 men were childish enough to do this.  Price stared and sighed heavily, watching them do so.

"HOW THA' FUCK YOU GETTING THEM SO VEINY, BONNIE? Please tell me your protein shake recipe." Soap said as he was touching your arms, you were veiny and bulky.. it only made him more motivated but who knows he's gonna slouch down on the couch later on eating the cafeteria sandwich. Gaz then stared over at your dinosaur spikes from behind, admiringly touching them. "How'd you get the higher ups customize sharp looking spikes, Dino?"

The spikes were a pretty yellow, it shined down from the light. Dino stood there like some kinda statue, some kinda toy for 2 men to play with. He'd glanced over at Simon, feeling cold ice eyes staring at him. LT. Simon 'ghost' Riley. The man he fought before in selection. Price then yelled. "STOP TOUCHIN' HIM LIKE THAT SOAP." Soap then rolled his eyes at price. Soap then took out his hand for dino to shake before spatting out: "Let's fight off them fucke's ye Dino?" Soap said with a grin. Dino looks down at the Scott, shaking his hand with his big veiny hands.

Gaz then stared before saying. "Gaz, pleasure to meet you Dino." Gaz reached out his hand as well. Dino pulled away from Soap and into the palm of Kyle. Dino then spat out in a voice they never thought he had. (If you don't have one, ignore.) He had an accent and his gruff voice, it was deep.. just like Simons. Dino then spat out. "You too, new teammates." Soap and Gaz were jaw dropped.

Gaz and Soap got a bit flustered.. I mean the tone of the voice was hella attractive, no? Ghost stared deeply at Dino. If not, under his balaclava, slight tone of his cheeks were rosy pink. Price then stepped up before saying. "Alright everyone, sit your asses down on the chair." Ghost grunted when he sat down, Soap was a bit energetic when sitting down. Gaz just sat down normally. But for Dino..

The chair came on to a big creak heard in the room. The noise came from Dinos chair with some slight scratching due to his spikes on the back, scratching the wood of the back chair. Price then cleared his throat loudly.. He can admit, Dino must be pretty heavy. "As you all know we go' those terrorists on our asses. Now we failed to capture and turn in Tha' fucker." Price said, holding a map before spreading it out on the table. Glaring up at his teammates.

"Laswell found some Intel that they moved up to Toronto America." He said before pinning down a knife on the map on the table. "And this is the warehouse where they stash their guns, and maybe planning to shoot up america if they want to." Price said gruffily, staring at his teammates before Ghost spoke up. "So what do you think they're planning." Soap then said. "Probably wanting to snap off our necks after we turned off Tha' time bomb." Gaz spoke up. "I got some phone that was ringing over one of the soldiers they were talking about wanting to set chemicals into the sea and maybe shot up Toronto after one of Saudi arabia's city was raided."

All of them looked at each other then glanced at Dino. Ghost frowned, he was probably thinking that dino would say some wolfhunt (that one term for dogpiss) idea. Dino then said. "Your all fucking missing the key." Dino took out the knife that was stabbed through the map and wood. Stabbing towards Mexico. "Laswell gave me information on the mission through the phone the key is to get towards Mexico first. If America was wanting them in, they would get suspicious. Big crates and crates unknown to the USA would get them ratted out when investigated."

Price, Gaz and Soap were amazed at Dinos explanation, Ghost grunted and crossed his arms. Sending daggers towards Dino. He didn't trust dino, and dino thought it was funny for The Simon Riley to get jealous over him. Dino smirked at Ghost underneath his sharp teeth designed mask. "It would make sense to get to Mexico first before going over to the US. As far as we know USA has extra security over the docks."

"Meaning they are slowly filling out the stash in America without anyone knowing. Possibly underground, no signal since the police can track internet." Dino briefly said. "What? It's a fucking guess." Dino grinned at Ghost.. better then fuckin' Everything. Gaz and Soap showered him with compliments, Ghost himself growled.. fucking asshole. Enemies from first glance, already enemies through selection.

Price stood their with a smile, patting on Dinos shoulder. "you are great, soldier." Dino glanced towards John with a slight nod, side eyeing Simon. Simon kept glaring like it meant he was intimidating but You just shrugged with daggers back at Simon underneath the eyes of yours. Soap whispered to price. "Cap', you see that? Seems like Ghost and Dino go' a bit of riva'ry." Gaz then crossed his arms.. wondering if Dino was paying attention. Gaz looked to where Dino was staring.. and boy was he surprised. A rivalry through first meet, they thought.

Price nodded with Soap, agreeing. But they need Simon to cooperate if he wanted to save the world. Simon then spoke out. "Very Einstein, aren't you." He spoke with a growl. Dino then shrugged again, turning around to leave with a grin underneath the mask, he himself had sharp teeth. Born with it. Simon looked away with annoyance.

Soap and Price were talking down the hall, Gaz was instructed to show Dino his room and Ghost was busy eating lunch, swinging by the cafeteria. At least he got some tea when swinging by. Gaz spoke. "Here's your room, it isn't much but it is a room. You could decorate in here."

Dino dropped his bags like a piece of paper, it was heavy as fuck but lightweight towards the large man. Dino then nodded. "Thank you, Gaz." Dino glanced at Gaz before pulling down his mask, grinning at Gaz with sharp teeth. Gaz felt knocked out.. your teeth were sharp.. and even so clean? Gaz awkwardly smiled back and leaving, he couldn't help but get flustered by the man's charm.

Dino was enthralled with this show, stealing the 141s attention from Simon like taking candy from a baby. Dino does not like his enemies. When they roar at him, he roars back but this is the teasing type of roar towards Simon. Enemies.. could turn into more, who knows?

Dino hung up some posters on his wall, only like.. 2. Dino then took his towel and walked down the hall to get over to the shower room. By the time he got there the 141 was showering. It was normal anyways. Dino then slowly took off his shirt. Soap peeked a glance at Dino and holy fuck was he in heaven. The man had a slutty waist like Simons, and abs that were worked out and trained through with scars. Battle scars.

Simon gave a side eye towards Dino before glancing at his body, peeking through since he didn't have a balaclava. Soap and Simon went back to washing to respect each others privacy, but fully well enough of how sharp eyed the Dinosaur is, He knew they peeked at him. Dino got into the shower cubicle, showering himself before Price then said in his usual gruff tone.

"Right, stand by for deployment. We're gonna meet some old pals of ours by Mexico in Las Almas, Dino." Soap then perked up before grinning.. Gaz then smiled as he brushed back his hair to continue showering, Ghost had a balaclava on and a towel around his waist, knowing full well who those old pals were. Dino glanced at price with a eyebrow raise.. Who was the cap talking about?

Dino was going to meet the Los Vaqueros.

[theyanderespecialist]

Books VS Boats (Scenario) Yandere Hugo X Female Reader X Yandere Joseph (Dream Daddy)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am here with the first Request! This one is Hugo and Joseph being Yandere for Reader and fighting over her! Be Ready for some wrestling!] 

(Disclaimer: Hugo and Joseph are NOT Yandere In canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! You Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!) 

(Books VS Boats) (Hugo VS Joseph) 

(No One's POV) 

(Name) was a young woman and she had been going on a few dates with a couple of guys. Joseph is separated from his wife, and Hugo, who is a divorced man. They are both fathers and (Name) has yet to meet their kids. Which was normal since she was not in an official relationship with either of the men. So it was normal, at least that is what she thought. Nothing about their desire for her was normal. They are both obsessed with her and want her to be theirs and theirs alone.  She is having tea with Hugo right now, as well as some cheeses. That is when there is a knock on the door and she opens it to see Joseph with a bunch of roses.  "Oh, thank you!" She says and takes them and Hgo and Joseph's eyes land on each other both realize that she is test-dating both of them.  Since she has not said she was exclusive to any of them. "I will put these in some water." She says and goes to her kitchen that is when Joseph and Hugo start glaring at each other.  "Who the fuck do you think you are!" Joseph snaps at Hugo  "What do you mean, Joseph." He says. "I am her future husband. You are the one here ruining our date." "Like she would want you," Joseph says, glaring hatefully at Hugo.  "Says the man who is still married with a wife that he had to baby trap." Hugo snaps back.  "Do not bring her into this!" Joseph almost growls at Hugo.  From there it did not get any better, Hugo and Joseph were on the floor wrestling they both had a knife in their hands.  "She is mine!" Hugo shouts and (Name) rushes in.  "What the hell i-" She stops and she sees the body on the floor and blood spilling in her carpet. 

(Hugo's POV) (Hugo Ending)  I dropped the knife as I had stabbed Joseph in the heart! I did not know what came over me! I had no idea! All I knew is he said what he would do to her, and I snapped. 

I could not let him, or anyone else touch her, she belonged to me!  "H-H-Hugo..." She stutters out and I look at her to see she was shaking. My glasses are cracked, but I can see her fear.  "(Name), songbird," I say and stand up. "It is okay, you are okay, Joseph cannot hurt you now."  She let out a scream and I grabbed her wrestling her to the floor.  She gets her air cut off and I am cautious not to cause permanent damage to her. Once her body is limp I grab her and pick her up. This was not good. I will have to get her in my car. Then clean up the evidence. I read enough books that I know how to cover up my tracks. I have not been caught before when I killed her ex. But that was planned out, this was a moment of passion and rage. 

(Joseph's POV) (Joseph Ending) 

I looked at (Name) as I stood up. She backed up. I kept walking up to her, and she kept backing up until she hit the wall. She looked at me in fear.  "Do not look at me like that, I had to do it, I could not let Hugo have you," I tell her.  "Yo-You killed him!" She shouts at me and I grab her by her face.  "I did it for us, now be a good girl," I tell her and inject something into her neck.  She cried out and soon she passed out. I was going to make all of this go away and she would be fine, with the drug she would not even remember that Hugo had been here. I am glad I had brought it with me~ 

Everyone would just think that Hugo ran away and left his son and (Name) is mine, all mine~ 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS the first request is done! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter here, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[fortheunsungheros]

Soooo I was going through all of my old school assignments to transfer them to my personal Google account (transferring schools sucks 😭) and I found a bunch of outsiders stuff I wrote! I wrote this for a POV of Johnny assignment and somehow didn’t get sent to the counselors office THIS time. And yes I was a Johnnyboy ship at the time. TW for implied suicide (yes I’m a messed up 13 year old lmao)

————————————————————————

I see Ponyboy gasping for air without any success. His screams and pleads for help are eventually silenced by an overwhelming quiet sensation. He’s drowning, Ponyboy is drowning I think to myself. I see his typical tan skin turn to a shade of icy blue and that’s when I decide enough is enough.

Ponyboy is my best friend, I can’t lose him. Him and the rest of the greasers are the only ones I keep myself on this Earth for. My parents could care less if I was alive or dead, the greasers are my real family. Pony came to me when Darry slapped him, that shows how close we are. He didn’t flee to Dally, Two-Bit, or even Steve; he chose me. Pony may be the only one who would ever choose me.

A wave of anger washes over my normally uneasy self. I begin to scream on the top of my lungs, “Let him go, you stupid soc!”. My calls are replied to by a snarky remark by Bob, the soc that makes my stomach curdle the most.

“ What are you gonna do about it, little greaser? You're clearly just a weak little boy. We beat you up last time no problem. You didn’t even try to fight back.” Bob says, chuckling. He turns to David, the man drowning Ponyboy, and says “Just kill him Davey, he’s too scared to save his own boy.”

Something inside me turns on. It’s almost like a lightswitch was flicked, changing my personality from shy and skittish to enraged and dangerous. I reach into my back pocket and feel for my switchblade for comfort. I really don’t want to do this but it seems like the only way. I grab my weapon from my pocket and display it for all the socs to see.

“Oh wow little greaser, whatcha gonna do, cut us?” Randy said, nudging Bob as he pretended to be afraid.

I flip open my switch blade and gather my thoughts. I shouldn’t do this, it’s so wrong. Yes, these guys are bad but they are still young with a whole life ahead of them. Then again, they are trying to kill my best friend. It’s almost like an angel and devil are on my shoulder, fighting each other until one becomes victorious.

My feet begin charging at Bob. It’s like I can not control my own movements. I take my weapon and stab it into Bob’s chest. I can feel the blade piercing through the young man’s skin. His face looked absolutely horrified. Bob grabs the knife from his chest and attempts to jab me. I quickly reverse the blade's direction back onto him. It’s like a ferocious animal takes over my body. I stabbed him eight more times in the chest. But he refuses to give up for approximately a minute. Bob reminds me of Dally, he is a fighter. Eventually, Bob's body slumps down to the floor. He is presumably still alive, but clinging onto life.

“Weak little greaser. Nobody will ever love you.”, Bob says with the last bit of strength he can compile. His breathing begins to shallow before his breaths stop abruptly. I’ve killed someone.

What have I done? My heart began beating a million miles a minute. My chest begins to tighten to the point it becomes difficult to breathe. All I can do is stare at Bob’s lifeless body, the life of it in which I stole. How could I have killed someone? He was so young as well. Although he acted mature for his age, Bob could not have been older than 17 or 18. He had a whole future of opportunities upon him and I stole his life in such a violent way. I’m sure his parents will be heartbroken with the news that their son has perished, especially given the circumstances in which he died. I am truly a monster.

The rest of the socs are terrified. David drops Ponyboy onto the hard park surface and begins to run. He yells to the other three men “Come on boys, we gotta get outa here!”. The rest of the socs abandoned Bob at the first sight of trouble. While we were walking to the park, Ponyboy told me about the conversation Cherry and him had about the differences between greasers and socs. I would tell Ponyboy that I found another difference, greasers are loyal to their brotherhood while socs are not. I might not be able to tell him this, let alone anything else after this fateful night.

I run over to Ponyboy's limp body and begin screaming. “Ponyboy no!” I grab his body and begin hugging him so hard his head might pop off. “Don’t leave me, please. I love you, you're a brother to me.” I say to Ponyboy as tears seep from my eyes rapidly. I grab his shoulders and begin shaking him, hoping to wake him up from this bad dream. My eyes stare at his blue tinted face until my visibility is obstructed by my own tears. I lay down next to him and hug him tight.

What am I supposed to do now? Not only am I a murderer, my best friend and my world is dead. I can’t go to the slammer, Dally is walking proof that place messes you up. Also, how am I supposed to live without my best friend? My mind turns to the worst thought I possibly have ever possessed. I have a knife. I could end all of this pain now.

I release my arms from Pony and sit up. My hands visibly shake as I grab my knife, the same one I used to stab Bob. His cherry red blood is still lying on the blade. I never thought my life would end like this. I thought I would die an accomplished old man warm in my bed with my loving family beside me. Never would I think I would die young alone in a park.

I look at Ponyboy again. He still appears lifeless, taking shallow breaths irregularly. My focus returns to the knife. I can’t run from the fuzz for the rest of my life. Plus, my parents won’t care if I’m dead, it’s more money to spend on drinking for them. The greasers will forget about me eventually. The only one who ever would have cared about me was Ponyboy.

Before I take action, I reflect on what my life was. It’s sad, you know, how one action can ruin your entire life. I think of my parents, probably slumped over drunk with no idea of their son's current situation. I think of Darry and Sodapop, the people who love Ponyboy and how concerned they must be. Lastly I think of Bob, who’s life I stole too soon. I hope I’m the afterlife I can apologize for my horrendous actions. I truly am sorry. I flip my blade open and with tears in my eyes, I begin cutting my wrist. Before any skin is broken, a sound stops me dead in my tracks.

Suddenly, I hear Ponyboy coughing. I run to his aid to turn him over. He’s alive. Ponyboys alive. Not only is Ponyboy alive, I’m alive. He’s the only reason I’m living right now.

“Johnny? Is that you?” Ponyboy said in a state of deliriousness.

“ I’m here Pony, relax you're safe.”I say trying to hold back my own tears to keep him calm.

“Where are those socs?” Ponyboy says trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

“I killed him, I said slowly. I killed that boy.”

————————————————————————

[partyanimal167]

Flashbacks- Crocodile x GN!Reader

I haven't written for my nice man in weeks, so what better way to start the new year than a Croco fic? I should try to write a multi-chap fic with him this year, but I don't have any solid ideas yet. Maybe once I finish my ATSV fic.

I wanted to play around with a reader who was closer in age to Croc again. I like the potential of old enemies, but just thinking about an older crew mate seemed even funner. Maybe I'll develop this idea more in future. I think this will just be like a preview tbh.

CW: pre-canon, ftm Crocodile, possible ooc Crocodile since he's younger, slight age gap, Crocodile's history, sfw

Crocodile had ambitions. He knew he was going to be the greatest. He just didn't expect it to be awhile before others would see it too.

He didn't thank you for better binding material, and you hadn't expected it.

Crocodile knew you would cause him trouble when you threw a thick roll of bandages at him after he took longer than normal in the bath. "You're gonna hurt yourself with what you're doing now. Try this." He never told you about himself, but it seemed like you knew. That made him uncomfortable already.

You had been on the crew longer and laughed loudly when a overly-confident young man tried to rob your captain of her bag when she was out drinking late. She easily avoided the homemade knife prosthetic and broke the blade off with her bare hands. You were ready to beat the shit out of the man, but the captain laughed and invited him to join.

Crocodile was annoying at first. Like any other newbie.

He thought it was a pain, but you figured it to be a neat tool.

On the sea, he tried to fight and argue with the captain which lead him to receiving his fair share of scoldings and punishments. Not many looked out for him, and you didn't think you cared either until a sea king flung the boy into the water, and he sunk like a brick.

Of course, he didn't tell anyone about his devil fruit.

~~~

Soon, you were giving him suggestions on how to fight even if a bullet couldn't do any damage. Crocodile was still a bothersome brat to everyone else, but he listened to you if you had something to say.

It took him awhile to grow into his ambitions and goals, but you decided to watch and see how he faired over the years.

You laid low after the captain's sudden death. It was a hard battle, and the crew disbanded. The years went by.

A shoreside bar had your patronage every day. It heard your old sea stories and hosted your poker nights. The days drifted easily, but the scent of that particular cigar smoke threw memories of your captain your way, and you had a to double-check your pulse when you saw who was stomping through the bar.

Pirates were nothing new, so this rowdy bunch that jeered at civilians and swung around swords didn't intimidate you.

"What's the pot, misses?" one generic man laughed as he pointed a dagger at you and gestured towards your night's winnings. You yawned bored and finished off your beer. "Hey! I outta-,"

The chair screeched on the old wooden floor as you pushed back and leaned to peek at the bar. "May life's party go on,"

There was a pause before a deep voice finished the saying. "-even after my smoke clears."

Your smile was wide as you pushed passed the men and stood behind a tall figure in a fur coat. "Long time, no see youngster."

~~~

You didn't flinch when Crocodile shot at the man who tried to mug you. He must have been new on the crew or something--maybe just an extra body, but he joined you at your table as you shuffled cards, and the bar carried on.

"Looks like you've got some things going for you, kid." you chuckled as you filled the man's mug.

Despite his more mature appearance, he scoffed at you easily. "Will you ever stop calling me that! You're not that much older than me." He went quiet again as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. He then went for his lighter, but you beat him to it with your own.

"I thought captain told you not to pick up her habits." you chided simply.

The man glared at you before leaning away from your flame. "I could say the same to you." he took a puff. "Her smoke's carrying on though."

You sighed and leaned on your palm. "Yeah sure has. I hear they're thinking about making you a warlord. Must be causing them problems." you chuckled. Crocodile only grunted and you two continued to sit in silence for awhile.

It was only until your mug was brought back to your lips when Crocodile spoke again. "How come you never-,"

"Went back out there?" you finished the sentence and giggled. "You're not the first one to find me and ask." You seemed to have left it at that for a while. The two of you continued on with your slow card game and coping habits. "Nothing feels quite like those old adventure days. Captain took me in young; I only wanted to be in her crew. Who else would have me in theirs?"

"You can join mine." and Crocodile says it so easily, yet you knew he was being sincere. "You could cause chaos out there if you wanted to. I know you know the secrets. We'd be unstoppable." though his words were calm and confident, you looked at Crocodile and saw the teenage boy who didn't know the hardships of the world--only the whispers of treasure and fame.

"Go be unstoppable without me, Crocodile." you smiled gently. "Maybe I'll join you when I'm ready." The man wasn't pleased with your answer, but he knew he couldn't force you to do anything. He may be bigger and stronger now, but you had his respect. He winced when you pinched his cheek to snap him out of his head.

"Enough about me! Look at you!" you poked at his firm arms. "You certainly toughened up and look like yourself."

"Oi!"

Crocodile knew what you were referring to, and a slight red dusted his cheeks. "I had some help..." he muttered.

The night went on with you two reminiscing and Crocodile filling you in on his adventures. His crew seemed more hired hands than bonded, so you wondered what other misfortunes the man experienced that he didn't tell you. A rookie captain faces many trials and tribulations. You smiled gently while the man talked about his latest and conquests and plans. You half-listened, but your mind drifted back to years ago when you two bickered, fought, laughed, and danced. It was weird growing older and drifting apart.

But the smoke carries on with memories never truly disappearing.

~~~

Okay! I definitely liked this one.

I think I'll pocket this idea for a mini-series later in the year. I want to explore the old times and adventures of Crocodile. There's a lot of potential with writing his backstory and him becoming the character we know now.

Thanks for reading!

[scribeofskyrim]

Sundas, 22nd of Last Seed, 4E 201

Right now, we’re having lunch at the Bannered Mare.

I need to get us kitted out so we can help Saadia and earn a bit more gold.

This morning Proventus said I could buy a house in the city for 5000 gold. Given the incredible amount of loot I’ve had to pass on simply because I couldn’y carry it, having Lydia to help should make it a piece of cake.

She did snark at me a bit when I handed her some food and drink. “I am sworn to carry your burdens,” she said, and she sounded incredibly tired of it all.

Something makes me wonder if being assigned to me was a punishment rather than a reward. I know a lot of the other guards were looking at me like I was some sort of magical being, but Lydia seems unfazed.

Probably Irileth’s favorite student.

I went out to get more supplies. The smith at the city gates is Adrienne Advenicci, Proventus’s daughter. She implied that her father’s wisdom doesn’t all come from him. Makes sense. She’s a smith and among the people. He’d need to get his information from somewhere.

She showed me how to work her forge, which was nice of her.

You know who’s not nice? Belethor. Good gods, that man gives me the creeps. He’s so slimy he makes a mudcrab look dry. I did some trading with him, and while I left I was certain that he was staring at my ass.

I went to talk to Saadia about those men looking for her, and she pulled a knife on me.

I hate being right all the time.

Luckily, I was able to calm her down, and she said that she was actually Iman, a noblewoman from Hammerfell who spoke out against the Altmeri Dominion. She wants me to get rid of the mercenaries hired to capture her. She’s convinced that if they do, their leader Kematu will either kill her or drag her back to be executed.

Gods forbid a woman have an opinion of her own, let alone voice it!

She said that she heard one of the Alik’r men got captured trying to sneak into the city last night. If he’s still in the dungeon at Dragonsreach, I might be able to learn more about where they're hiding. She promised a nice bounty if I got rid of Kematu for her.

I don’t know if I can handle a whole den of mercenaries, even with Lydia. I have no idea how good she is in a fight, but given that she seems as comfortable in her armor as a fox in its skin, she’s probably a force to be reckoned with. But I can’t ignore the threat to Iman’s life.

What I do know is that I don’t have enough nearly enough gold or gear to go running around the countryside looking for assassins.

Once we’re done with lunch, we’re going to go and retrieve Amren’s father’s sword from those bandits. Bandits mean loot, and if we’re lucky, I can buy that house or at least enough to comfortably outfit a camp for us and get more armor.

-----------

Well, I thought that was what we were doing today. Turns out, I was wrong!

We’re back at the Bannered Mare.

On our way out of the city, we saw a group of three thieves on the road, attacking a group of adventurer types. They must have been desperate, because there were a bunch of guards right there, too! Of course, by the time we got there there was nothing left to do but loot the bodies, so we did.

I decided that we’d better turn back and leave first thing tomorrow. So, I sold what we got and now we’re resting up to find that sword.

[spiderculechronicals]

Since Wade has been in this universe a year and a half ahead of Peter 3 (and 2), he's gotten himself settled and will go on patrol from time to time in a Spidey-approved fashion, but with his own style. So he kinda takes the lead on this patrol with Peter 2, at least in directing where to go.

__

Meanwhile, Wade and Peter 2 were down in the industrial zone scoping out Wade’s property there, when they ran into a bit of trouble. Peter 2 alerted to danger, shouting at Wade to get down while leaping impressively high into the air in a flip as a spray of bullets tore across where they’d been standing. Wade cursed and cut through the web patch over his live gun with a small knife, firing at the tires of the vehicle the shots came from, successfully blowing them out. Peter 2 gasped, noting the bullet holes in Wade’s suit.

“… You’re hit!”

“Wait, did you miss the memo on my healing factor? This is nothing! Worry about yourself…!” Wade shooed him away as the gunmen got out of the car.

Peter 2 jumped and dodged the fire again, this time firing off several webs at the attackers, grabbing the strings and yanking hard, pulling the weapons out of their hands and flinging them away. “Alright, that’s enough…”

Wade gasped and stood up out of his fighting stance, watching with admiration as Peter 2 advanced on the disarmed gunmen, webbing their arms together and their feet to the ground while lecturing them on their stupid life choices.

Peter 2 put his hands on his hips, “Anything to say for yourselves?”

“You sound like my dad…”

“Tell your mom I said hi.” Peter 2 patted the young-sounding attacker on the head. “These webs’ll hold for two hours. So. Want me to call this in, orrr�� leave you to fate?”

Wade was off to the side cackling at the your mom joke. “No, but, seriously, who the fuck sent you absolute wet noodles? Someone who wanted you to die? Because if Webs weren’t here, I can’t say you wouldn’t be missing some limbs… sorry, Spidey. I’ve gotten good at tourniquets! They usually survive!”

Peter 2 sighed expressively and rolled his eyes.

Wade giggled and walked up to the immobilized guys, yanking off any hats and facemasks. “Oh fuck me sideways!! I know who you are, Alexi Petrovich. Are you little shits working for motherfucking Zelensky? The Parking Lot price gouger? That petty fuck? Dude… did I miss a security cam or did some greasy little rat call it in? I kinda thought he had underground ties but, shit. This is like… this is like on the level of, oh what was that movie? Where the fuckwit gangsters just stole a bunch of parking meters and then they had to figure out how to break them open, for literal quarters? Ha! There was like, a tiger in it… man! I forget. Anyway, fun times. Except probably for the tiger. Okay, so here’s the sich: Whoever sent you on this mission did not give a flying fuck if you made it back intact.” Wade helped to illustrate this point by drawing one of his katanas. “And I’m the safe option, bitches. Spidey, wanna give them a cute little demo? Please please…?”

Peter 2 sighed again and shrugged, walking over to the abandoned van. “… Oh hey maybe get out real quick?” He said to the driver, who had been huddled in his seat the whole time. “Thanks…” Once the van was empty he picked it up and casually walked it to the side of the street, then slammed it down. He pulled off one of the doors and bent it in half.

“Nice! … Very very nice, okay I think they have the idea.”

The trapped men shouted in surprise at the feat of strength, the one identified as Alexi actually starting to cry.

“Oh no Lexi don’t cry…! Spidey you made him cry… come over and apologize for scaring him.” Wade said in an overly dramatic way, reaching out to squish Alexi’s cheeks.

Peter 2 cocked his head then walked over, not sure what Wade was going for with this. “Umm? Okay… hey, Hi…! Alexi? Hi, I’m Spiderman. I know what I just did was pretty scary, but just so you know, I don’t really want to hurt people. Okay? Even though you shot at me.” He crouched down and spoke in a gentle comforting voice. “Sounds like maybe you got mixed up in something a bit over your head. But… I gotta say. You were kinda expecting for those bullets to work…? And then you’d just… drive away? Leaving somebody bleeding on the sidewalk? And that’s okay with you…?”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry… I was aiming at your feet the whole time, I swear…”

“Aahh, don’t gimmie that, Lex! I pulled you off a job last month and you had the same sob story. What the fuck gives?” Wade snorted. “Good cop, bad cop- I’m the bad cop.” He whispered quickly as an aside.

“… ah.” Peter 2 fell back.

“So you chucklefucks were given a description of your targets, clearly- two well-muscled hotties in red bodysuits, with a height difference- and Lexi here doesn’t fucking recognize Deadpool? Lexi, you saw me get stabbed in the neck and shrug it off, my guy, my sweet angel muffin… and you’re crying? Hahahaha… oh baby baby. You’re in such deep shit right now.” Wade snorted with glee.

---

(Agh, they end up taking this Alexi guy away because Peter 2 correctly identifies that he's gonna get killed otherwise, and now I have to deal with that.)

[treesandwords]

The Dalion Family For Dummies Anyone But Me Who hasn't Memorized The Entire Inner Worlds of These Freaks (good please don't do that you'll regret it)

Jamos

Military Dad ™

Needs to chill

HATES magic like really an absurd amount. For a guy who scoffs at anyone showing emotion ever he needs to calm the fuck down.

Has 9 kids. Also has zero idea how to interact with children. Maybe this was a bad idea.

~trauma~

But he never talks about it because it "doesn't matter" except it Very Much Did Fuck Him Up

Technically probably a war criminal but got away with it

"Not everyone is EXACTLY like me with all my same views and values???? what is this?? Something's wrong with everyone but me I guess???"

Scarily good at convincing people to do what he needs them to do

"I wish we could go back to the Good Old Glorious Days of our former empire when *checks notes* my people definitely weren't constantly at war and in much worse conditions than they are now"

Everything even remotely personal is a secret. If it's not one it should be.

Collects weird shit and pretends not to

Katrine

Mom

Screaming internally

The backbone of this family istg

Does things for The Aesthetic

Obsesses over the latest fashion trends

Pretends to know what she's doing. Does not in fact know what she's doing.

Yup that's me. You're probably wondering how I got into this situation.

Re: overseeing the leader of a foreign party of rebels from the country you're currently at war with making a formal oath with your daughter & signing contracts in blood

WILL organize a party even if literally everything is in shambles because that's what you do

Laedir

Traumatized oldest son trying to pretend he's not traumatized

Loves his wife

Would honestly just rather let her do everything because she's better at it

Horses Make More Sense Than People

His horse is his best friend

(his horse might be his only friend)

(I am now realizing Laedir is a horse girl)

Zones out during important meetings

Sad Conflicted Boy

Needs a hug

Plagued by intrusive thoughts

Hates water (for good reason)

Quinnton

A himbo honestly

Doesn't have a clue what's going on most of the time but pretends to

The supportive brother

Tries to be cool

Long hair

Has a good heart, just doesn't think things through most of the time

Charms everybody

Ghost story teller extraordinaire

Absolutely adores his dad and older brother

The Cool Brother to Laedir's Nerd Brother

Jock

He & his mom are holding this family together

Gevin

Edgy

Depressed Thot ™

Secretly writes emo poetry but nobody knows that

Scares kids on purpose

Probably gay

Drawn to the ~forbidden lore~~

Convinced everyone hates him. Pretends to roll with it and embrace his role as "everybody's villain" but actually is dying inside

(And actually most people *don't* hate him, he's just kind of a dick and if he was less of a dick they would show that??? boy no offence but you're dumb [affectionate])

Girlbosses too close to the sun

Polyglot prodigy

Fights with his twin in other languages so no one knows how badly they're swearing at each other

Tall af

Carries around a fancy knife at all times for The Vibes. Yes that is an actual and ultimately very emotional plot point.

Bronwyn

The other twin

Honestly? An icon

Angry

Does what she's supposed to but really, really doesn't want to

Also a polyglot

Delays marriage as long as possible because she is definitely just freaked out by the idea of being forced into a maternal role and definitely doesn't also have zero interest in men

Though she does sleep with a guy she's not supposed to just for the sake of having a Dirty Little Secret

Tries to go to college but fails the application (basically)

...and ends up going off into the woods to hang out with a bunch of lady druids

Mad at everyone and also trying so hard to love them

Makes her own clothes

Ciaran

Does not give a single fuck

Probably only likes like 2 people

He's a nerd and then you dig a little deeper and turns out!! He's a bigger nerd than you'd even imagined

Knows exactly what he wants

And what he wants is to live in the woods and never speak to another human again, which he can't have, therefore, rage

Short

Annoyed about being short

Blunt

Does actually care about the people you'd least expect him to care about, but doesn't like showing it

Kind of mean to his siblings but they can't take him seriously bc he's basically a grumpy toad

Jerod

My boy!!

Loves everyone (at first)

They do not always reciprocate

Such a simp honestly

Isn't as honest as he'd like to be

He's so open and innocent that you'd think he'd be, but this boy spends like half the book Telling Lies

Sort of a kleptomaniac??

Like. Has drawers and boxes full of random stuff he finds and picks up that usually doesn't appear to belong to anyone. Usually.

Procrastinates

Has Visions ™

Runs from his problems

BLIND to flirtatious behaviour

"Am I the only one who feels [x way] and therefore obviously Insane, or does everyone else feel it too and they're just lying to me??"

I've said this before but !! Ace king!!!!

Scared of snakes

Germaphobe

Honestly so so unhealthy oh my god

Cassian

Love me love me love me

Seriously needs attention All The Time

Great with little kids

Very gay

Wishes everyone would Just Lighten Up Dammit

But also Feels intensely

The one who tries so hard to make everyone else happy, also the one who needs very badly for someone to try to make *him* happy and isn't getting that

Super supportive, gives long motivational talks at 1 am probably

Cannot take criticism

Wants to be useful

Does what he's supposed to but in a cool way

Able to speak his mind w/o being a dick

Always sees the good in people even if they've shown him otherwise

Nurei

Fashion Queen

The one everyone likes

Smol

A little self conscious

The party planner

Gets along with almost anybody & brings out the best in them

Honestly a great friend

Ok she's a kind of mean to her little sister though

(but they end up friends)

Horrible immune system

Never really stretches her comfort zone. Is ok letting herself be told what to do and not questioning things

Very compassionate but not very emotional

Esme

Cries

When she's angry, when she's sad, when she's happy etc. there will be tears

Also needs Attention

Bad at math

Does whatever the fuck she wants

Bugs her siblings so much but is also so loveable

Is secretly terrified of not being "enough"

Major anxiety

Would probably be an activist

Will call people out with zero shame

Fear of abandonment

Rips up barbies (or Fantasy Medieval World equivalent) & teaches her impressionable nieces how to also rip up barbies

Taglist: @kaatiba

[nevertheless-moving]

solidly pleased with glowing and flying!

Also i really couldn't picture how shallan's story wouldn't end tragically, so extreme relief.

didn't cry as much as mistborn but we're still at the start of the series..the scene where kaladin's deciding to turn back in a hopeless attempt to save an army that's not really his...i don't know something about how sanderson writes noble sacrifice just gets to me, i feel it like physical pain.

gasped at the trade for the sword. couple of tears at the thought of saving all the bridgemen. just. i knew that turning back was right, but i was on a knife's edge about how well it would all turn out. just, The Parallels -the desperate charge for a noble banner - a priceless blade after the dust settles...im laying awake at night thinking about it okay?

This author sure likes killing gods, huh

the entire scene of dismissively kicking the shit out of Elhokar just to really, really prove that if he wanted to kill him, he would have, toptier, no notes. mic drop exit with 'btw i'm fucking courting your mom.' unparalleled. no one is doing it like him.

I'm also a sucker for superhero esque identity reveals, so gradual reveal of powers to people so you can get all the reactions and situations is IDEAL, for me personally. first literally unconciously to teft, then panicking a bit to teft and lopen, then aweing to the parshendi, then saving bridge 4, then to delirious dalinar...

(I desperately wanted some group training scenes in the chasms where Kaladin got to fail at running on walls and look stupid but also impressive in front of his men. am cautiously optimistic for such things in book two.)

i know it's not really in the same tone as the first book but i very much would enjoy extended group radiant training hijinks, and they did set things up at the end there...

kaladin shouting while tumbling different directions , his men desperately covering up for odd thumping inside barracks, scrambling to keep him from shooting into the sun. Falling out of the sky and landing in front of a bunch of officers, pretending he was just on a nearby building. sticking bridge 4 crew to the walls, partially as a joke, then practicing training formations with gravity at all angles, (which will come in handy when Szeth arrives). more honor spren arriving. team gaslighting anyone who sees him (them?) glow. 'all dark eyes do this' 'you must have hit your head harder than we thought' 'its called sweat you should try it sometime.'

other future book hopes:

adolin mild jealousy and suspicion of kaladin. ok more than mild jealousy. why is he better at honor? why is he better at fighting? why does father trust him more? Why - did he just fucking glow. possibly losing his shit as he suspects the radiant powers but is subject to above gaslighting.

reveal of radiant powers to kholins then to everyone in KICKASS szeth fight

RADIANT ON RADIANT FIGHT

Amaram losing his cool when he sees kaladin (possibly giving himself away by saying he's lying about winning the shard blade, except kaladin still hadn't mentioned it to anyone.) some sort of direct Amaram conflict.

jasnah and Shallan arriving shattered plains! Shallan pulling out a fucking shard blade?? Implying to other people that they can just get more blades when they feel like in some crazy political manever

some romance! (ideally between jasnah and shallan but i doubt it. regardless i do trust sanderson's heterosexual romance writing)

dalinar casually letting slip that the radiants could heal people and kaladin needs to go sit in a corner for a little bit while he weeps with joy and guilt ALTERNATELY kalinar discovering accidentally he can heal others with stormlight. And then corner weeping time for joy and guilt.

i know it's going to make the payoff all the better, I trust Sanderson enough for that but I'm almost 30 chapters into way of kings and MAN is he putting the protagonists through the ringer. Dalinars in universe credibility and likeability as a character seem inversely linked and I know I know that's the point but this old man keeps getting mad roasted for senile ideas like 'what if there's more to life than fighting over crab gems' and it keeps getting worse. I feel like charlie brown with the football every time kaladin tries to save someone. When do they get to glow and fly. My boys deserve to glow and fly.

[the-enigmatic-universe-theory]

Chapter 1

Arawna Segrey

The stomping of feet, the scratchiness of his voice, the scraping of the knife, the pounding of flesh on flesh. The slamming of the screen door. So many sounds, too many. I just want to get out. Get out, get out, get out. But even after I get out there's noise. The cars, the people, oh GOD the people. They make the most noise. And now I'm going somewhere where the people are numerous, and the noise unending. So much noise. 

***

My feet shuffle along the sidewalk, making a scratching noise as I go. Shuffle, shuffle; shuffle shuffle. I left too late, I missed the bus. I'm going to be late and miss most of my classes. By the time I left 2nd period had begun, and although it was a small town, the walk to school was still long; even longer since I had to avoid the new dangerous areas. I used to be able to take the short way, walking across grass patches, and ducking into the alleyways, but the frequent kidnappings prevent it now. It's not like it would be easy to snatch me up and take me away, due to my powers of course, but I’ve gotten into enough fights this morning and received enough bruises, no need to add any more to the list. 

I wrap my arms around my small middle, huddling into myself for warmth. The thin red jacket is all I have, and with fall settling in, it might not be enough. I have the money to buy a new jacket, and my job pays decently, but I have no idea whether or not it’ll suddenly go missing within a couple of days. That tends to happen anytime someone brings food, clothing, or anything you can sell, into the house. It's one of those lessons I learned the hard way. I can still remember the day I decided to start hiding my things. 

My uncle usually goes out to a bar to drink, except for the times when he has a bunch of his friends staying with us. I try to be scarce around the house when this happens because even if I had no brain I’d know, grown men, beer, and a teenage girl mix about as well as pineapples on pizza. Unfortunately, this was one of those times, and I had no one else’s house to crash at. I didn’t have any other choice but to stay there. Well really, I did, but I know from experience sleeping outside was the last thing you want to do in the middle of winter. So I stayed up in my room, trying to avoid them the best I could. I managed to stay up in my room all night, with little to no interaction with the men. I thought I would be fine, and that I was secure up in my room by myself. It was a mistake to think that, and an even bigger mistake to fall asleep. By the time I woke up that morning, all the money I had saved up, all the things I had bought myself to survive, and all my uncle's friends, were gone.

After that, I took a knife out of the kitchen and started carving out hiding spots. The whole time I was fuming, but I couldn’t blame anyone but myself, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I cursed his name as I stabbed into the wood of my bedroom floor. But I knew it was my fault, for being so careless and trusting of others. I should've known better, and for a while after, I thought I did. I thought I had stopped being that naive little girl who had let strangers take her things, but I hadn’t. It took losing something far more important than everyday items for that little girl to understand. She’s gone now, forced to grow up in the cruel world, but at least I know now, that the only person you can trust in this world, where snakes and serpents are disguised as saints, is yourself.

***

For the rest of the walk to school, I contemplated everything that had happened that morning with my uncle. How I might've been able to avoid the situation. I can’t afford to miss too much more school, I had already been held back a grade, and the sooner I could leave this wretched town the better. 

It wasn’t just my uncle that made this town horrible, it was everything. The weather sucked, always being dreary and with little to no sun, even in the summer. There was trash everywhere, making the whole place stink. And as far as I could tell, the people here are all pieces of shit. I’ve met only a handful of decentish people, and even then, the decentness tends to wear off after a couple of days. I’ve been saving up money for a while, since I was 13, and am only making enough to buy myself necessities, plus a little extra - which I save. My pay isn’t bad, it's just that I can’t get as many hours as I need to make more money, with school and all. It helps that I have nothing to do in the summer. The boss of the car wash I work at usually lets me take on more hours then, but still, I don’t know if I’ll have enough to move out when I graduate. My uncle made it clear that, by the time I graduate, I’m getting kicked out, whether I have somewhere to go or not. That's why I’ve been applying everywhere I can, hoping they’ll be able to pay me more than the car wash. I kind of feel bad about leaving them, when I’ve worked for them for almost 6 years, but I need the money. 

It's money, and my uncle I'm thinking about when I walk into the school building, signing myself in for being late. I try to clear my head as I make my way down the halls and to class. My 5th period has just started, and luckily, it's the easiest class. Since people began getting inhabited by spirits, and coming back with powers, our school decided to put in a new class. Everyone who has powers has to take it, and for the most part, it's fairly easy. They have us do exercises and different activities to try and help us control our powers. I’ve been taking this class for many years now, so I’m a pro at using my powers. Others. . . not so much. I don’t mind the class, but a lot of times, the people with the least control cause accidents.

Usually, you can hear these accidents happening a mile away: students screaming, banging on the wall, loud explosions. So I'm grateful when I make it to the quiet classroom. I don’t bother knocking on the door, - it's always unlocked in case someone causes a fire - before I use my powers to turn the handle and push it open. The door creaks, and slams into the back wall with a loud bang, letting me know I used too much force. Thanks door. 

I turn back to the room, and a set of eyes fix directly on mine. Well, technically, almost everyone in the room has their eyes on me after that display, but these are new eyes. Weirdly enough, they're kind of pretty. 

That's the last thing I think before a migraine shoots through my head, my eyes going blurry. My whole body spasms with a deep chill, and I squirm with discomfort, and then it all unexpectedly stops. I look up and for a millisecond we make eye contact. The pretty-eyed boy looks away, breaking eye contact, and giving me a chance to clear my head. The migraine that was once pounding through my skull is now only a dim ache, the chill is gone, but I can still feel it - whatever it was -, like a ghost of a touch. I’m ok, physically at least. I stare at the boy, the only person who could be responsible for this. I’m not stupid, this is a power education class, and before I barged in here, he was the only one standing. Plus, he’s new, and new kids always have to do a power demonstration, I just didn’t think I’d be on me. 

“What was that?” I ask him. His face is pink and he still won’t look at me. He has to answer the question, it’s the most important. I don’t like others using their powers on me; my body is my body, and to fully make sure I'm ok I need to know what he did to me. 

“I-um kinda sorta, usedmypowersonyou?” He still doesn’t look at me when he says this. It’s like he has a problem with eye contact.

“Well no duh dipshit,” I sigh, “but what do they do?”

“Uhhh it depends, what I did on you was um- mind reading I guess?” 

“You guess? What do you mean you guess? Do you not know what your powers do or something?”

“I mean yes and no? I know what some of my powers are, like mind reading and illusion but I don’t know if there’s anymore.” Of course, he doesn’t. This is fucking great! I have an amateur messing with my head and looking into my mind. I swear to god if he fried a part of my brai-.

“Fuck off okay, I only got them a few years ago, excuse me for not being perfect.” Damn, okay, this boy has attitude. Too bad for him cause not only do I have attitude too, but I also happened to have had a shitty morning. I kind of hope he can hear me, so that he fully knows I don’t appreciate some dickwad poking around in my head, seeing things he shouldn’t be seeing. But, what did he see? And then I stop breathing, and even though my lungs start to burn I don’t continue. I’m frozen to the spot, terrified of the answer he might give.

I look at him, with his pink cheeks and pretty eyes that won’t meet mine, and then slowly start to breathe, I need to pull myself together. He’s waiting for an answer. The whole class is waiting for an answer. We’re making a scene, and they’re all watching us, like a new TV show. I don’t blame them, it might’ve been enjoyable for me too if I wasn’t involved. But I am, and everyone is still waiting, and I need to pull. myself. together. I focus on my breathing, evening it out until my breaths are steady and coming at a normal rate. I flex my fingers, curling them into fists and then out. They work fine, not frozen. 

I look around at everyone else, they don’t need to hear the rest of this conversation, it’s none of their business. 

My gaze focuses back onto the boy, the boy with pretty eyes who still won’t make eye contact with me. Is what he saw that bad? Maybe, but I won’t know until I ask. 

“Can we go outside, to talk.?” I ask, gesturing with my hand to the door. “ I promise I won’t bite.” He lets out a light huff, almost akin to a laugh.

“Sure.” 

I begin to walk back out of the door, the stupid door that slammed shut. I thought about kicking it for a good second before shaking off the thought. That door had caused me enough problems for one day, I didn’t need to add a stubbed toe to the list. 

When we were both outside with the door firmly shut I turned to him. 

“What did you see!” I demanded. 

“If you're talking about what your uncle did then yeah, I saw that.” 

I shook my head. “That’s not specific enough. What exactly was he doing?” Her uncle did a lot of things, and she wasn’t about to reveal more than she needed to.

“I don’t think we should be talking about what he did in a public setting, but since you’re so insistent then I’m talking about him murdering your sister and most of the horrible things he did to you.”

I was shaking my whole body. Out of all the memories he could have seen, every horrible thing, every touch he forced on me, every threat and beating, he sees the thing I didn’t ever want anyone to know about. 

I nod, because I don’t know what else to say. This boy is a total stranger, and in a matter of seconds, he has gotten into my head, finding things out about me no one ever should have. “What do you want?” Despite my shaking, my voice is calm, I refuse to be weak.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What do you want, money, service, a house?”

“What the fuck are you talking about!? The only thing I want is for you to leave me the hell alone!” Is this dude whack? 

“You’re the one who asked me out here!?”

“Because I wanted to know what you saw! I wanted to know whether I had to worry about you opening your big mouth to say shit that you shouldn't be saying! So what do you want? What do I have to give you to shut you up about what you saw?” I don’t understand him, what game is he playing? Is he just fucking with my head?? Jokes on him, too late for that, I'm already fucked up as is.

“You don’t have to give me anything! I feel bad enough about invading your privacy like that. If anything I should give something to you so that I’m not guilt-ridden for the rest of my days here.”

I stare at him. “Are you kidding?” I'm in shock, I don’t know what to think about what he just said. Hell, I don’t even know if I believe him. “Are you being serious, like actually?”

“Yeah, Why wouldn’t I? I genuinely feel bad for doing that to you. Like I said can I make it up to you?”

I look away from him, the stranger boy with the pretty eyes who’s apologizing for reading my mind and ‘invading my privacy’. I don’t know what to think of him. I’m used to people treating me like absolute shit, I'm used to insults, and threats, I'm used to mean mean people., I’m not used to this. 

“Just, don’t say anything. It isn’t your problem. You don’t owe me anything except your silence. Besides, I don’t take charity, from anyone.”

“Fine, I won’t give you anything. But, could you possibly show me around the school? You don’t have to of course, it’s kinda weird for me to ask that of you now, sorry.”

“To be honest, I don’t want to. I want to go . . . somewhere that isn’t here, and forget this happened. I want to wish you out of existence because I don’t like that you know what you know. But I will show you around I mean, because I'm not a total shithead, and the sooner you manage to navigate the school the more time you’ll be able to spend figuring out your mind power thingies, and that's something you're gonna need to do to survive here. Other people won’t be as chill about you getting in their minds. Got it?”

“Yeah, I know I just wasn’t expecting someone to y'know break down the door in the middle of class, apologies for being surprised.”

“ I didn’t break down the door. I just closed it, a tad too roughly.”

“You almost sent it off its hinges.” 

“Almost, I didn’t break it down.” I let out a sigh of frustration. The door is perfectly fine. 

“Anyways. Are you going to show me around now?” 

“Yeah, I guess. But we should go back to the classroom first. Tell the teacher what we're doing.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that, Let’s go..” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say, then turn toward the classroom.

[the-firebird69]

I want to remind you that you're on tape I want you say and do what we used against you and our court.

-this morning we constant 500 in fractions on our son perpetrated by you good guys here and we pay you back now

-we also saw you prepping for another wave of attacks against the United States and you're going to be hit the biggest reason is you don't want to take over you want to go to your Islands and we don't want to let you do that especially with our son and the clones oppose you and it's ridiculous it wouldn't do anything and that's the biggest reason

-we are also in receipt of a report about John Riva Lord and it's written very well since she's threatening all these things I can't tell what the hell is after and when questions we know what it is so we went ahead and looked at you very closely and took it apart and we'll see your buddies I said where after you now cuz you're just a bunch of slobs I think you can get something by threatening a VIP because you're lame. We're putting all sorts of notices out mostly warrants it'll come pick you up for your lame s*** and yeah it's lame

-along with your attitude and your evil plot of sedition and worse you have evil designs for particular people and including our son and we are going to take you apart for it and do it to you continuously. One of them is tonight's him and we're going to knife all the time. Who isn't as you keep saying it the reason is you keep saying and most of the time people just knife you because you're saying it and they don't even know your plan and you just get killed cuz you're stupid but we're going to start doing it to you it works

-he also say you're going to shoot him in certain places so we're going to start shooting you every time you say it cuz you mean business freaking moron

-he's right too you lose huge areas because of what you're doing and you don't seem to notice and you're stupid completely stupid and we can get away with tons and tons of stuff and don't seem like we want to but now we're doing it cuz we've had it with him you thought I wouldn't believe him and for time I didn't he said look how easy this idiots are so we're going to take over using you so I'm trying to invade okay weeklings Jesus what a holocaust that was and who cares about your X-Men issue so many died yesterday he was such assholes probably acknowledged it and just kept screwing around with our son says you're all going to die sit here being a little babies bothering me how hook he doesn't get so you're trying the rest of your zombies or something

-they put out warrants on Trump when he was sitting there bothering our son so here he is again here he is again and again some kind of nine times as nine different costumes and they go upstairs and change even the restroom and we wanted to stop him the whole time and you would not stop photos of this you're exposing to just all the time I need you out of here. This is not without the boy. And she says what are you talking about he almost didn't say you're trying to kidnap someone something to hours and all of a sudden he turns around and says you're going to pay for it so no not you are not get out and everyone is sick of John the river Lord and company and now I'm not going to feel bad about talking to you this way you stupid c*** you're a little b**** both of you Mrs ladish and Mrs ladish. Some people caught waiting for what you're doing and the time they're fighting you in the tunnel said it's more than just Jason now and he's going after you for your big mouth most years get creamed and the tunnels infield every few hours some of the tunnels are 3 ft long when they get killed and your tunnels don't give a very far either you haven't even noticed we're sitting here talking about it getting you killed what you doing you stupid as f****** hell you're behind the apartment here with a shovel and a tarp exposing yourself and you're getting killed. And we're doing after you for your weapons violations too today is going to be a big day there are a few more reasons one of the biggest is Jason is filing an eviction notice on you three or four idiots and not not on our son. To try and hit him and it's tomorrow morning with a gator and your people get killed quite a bit. And you can get killed very soon Trump. He says it to the max it's so humiliated embarrassing that this guy hitting over your realm it's on the ballot and he's the idiot forcing himself on there and losing everything for you what a humiliating experience that must be embarrassing as hell I don't have any money and stuff but I want to mission and I'm supposed to be just waited or controlled or occupied during something else or cajoled and instead it's more on next door is exciting me to destroy him and you Max how embarrassing and humiliated and self-deprecating. It says that and we laugh because what is happening and they're getting crushed and they don't seem to be recovering and now they're fighting the clones head on. I'd like to get this guy out of the way before the forgieners get involved and trying to hold on to him again. Our son says it's probably Europeans and they got over run but an a****** and he is a complete jerk there. And they say no it's something you did I just said didn't he just say that. When it comes down to you you allow him to because you're morons and yeah well you see him to take over not to not take over. There's a few other things happening today

-number one John Riva Lord is going to be evicted and by the state of Florida and he's going to be evicted in any format that he's in or alias as well as his son and brother wife daughter whatever they are they don't even have a right to occupy

-the war with the clothes is about to go topside here as they tried to kidnap our son and you alias want to put him in the hospital the mental hospital to try and threaten for your way so we're going to kill tons of you and burn you as your all sick

-there's a something called the prudence and your people don't have it so it doesn't start taking your bank accounts here and then try and get our son cash. We're going to request other groups assist.

-theyre going to pull you out of social security John or even Lord and The blackbitch and your brother out of the treasury. That's the pseudo empire yeah you like us to see it's us cuz you're stupid you do a lot of stupid things and we're not holding you up or helping you it's just you had a lot of people and now you don't and pretty soon be gone Trump

-there's a few other things too here sitting here harassing him and you're going to get arrested for each and every time you do and that was stated by the pseudo empire and others foreigners the empire and us and we're doing it too

-preamble begins for Halloween the movie which starts on Halloween and Lily goes out there to get even with people and finds out that she has to actually hit a ton of you and you're all over the place she says going through like crap through a goose and she can't take it so she hires honest armies and mercenaries and starts to polish you off and all over the Midwest and upper Midwest and finally she says this you want to war Trump and you're going to get one you think your nose and everything you open your mouth about everything and you think that it's free and you should know there's punishment for your crimes. And she starts hitting you like a mad woman and she looks like she's teaming up with you but she's getting you to fight Tommy f in the future and tell me if Burns you and you don't stop going after him and they go after you and polish you off actually they're the group that gets to you it's all due to doing stupid things to people I really don't hold on to anything I'm going after your stuff today

-there are people at the parks and it's become huge finally and starship troopers will begin shortly

-they're court cases against John remillard and company and against bja in town and as different characters and they're bringing you down

-there is a movie on called Star wars and it is going to start on hoth just like you see in the movie and the scene with the imperial destroyers chasing the rebel fashion is different than scary it's a different ship is bigger and it does happen and it's going to happen today and the reason is that they are trying to get you away from hoth. Vader boards and it's really stan. And they've been slaughtering Trump's people and they do it because Jordan even Lord insist on staying here. But this stand says that he doesn't do it to people and it didn't work on us because we've been doing it his whole life against much tougher people who are much harder to detect. And yeah they were more of them they got ganged up on.

-along with Star wars there is a series of movies to begin and it's pretty big Halloween and Friday the 13th as their own series but they do start today and in Earnest tomorrow and there's several others mostly because they go to court and they have to get out of it and they can't seem to do that what's up there's another reason and it's because the empire is now gearing up to Counter-Strike and they are mining tons of the blue sapphire and it's going to go on for weeks they say and they're minding it all over the world and you will be crushed. And they say it too there's a series of movies in occur because of it and it's big including the mafia movies which happened because they're trying to use moonshine as cover

-these suitable empire is firing people and they are firing them from jobs in Charlotte county true to at least two assholes have died about 50 times each this month it's Trump and Dan his son they won't shut their stupid miles so the pseudo empire is firing people like them there was one judge left and it was Trump and they're going to fire him today and they're pulling them out of the sheriff's office and they're going to make sure that they don't do anything and that means no work and they're going to make sure that they don't return and there's a hundred and fifty and they're going to pull out 25 today and start ramping up and the ships are supposed to launch we're going to publish this is a big list

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues

You're a b**** Trump tell you what we're just going to put you on the list to get killed and over and over cuz nothing else stops you and we do it now from now on

Hera

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

black cat and his kittens ch2

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

previous chapter

Three meters away the villain stopped approaching. Police sirens could be heard getting closer, but the black-clad man didn’t seem to care. 1A was petrified. The black cat mask the villain wore both hid the man’s face and somehow stared deep into their souls. For a few seconds the teenagers didn’t dare move for fear of braking the trance they were all seemingly in. Which is why they were startled by a deep monotone voice.

“You lot are incredibly stupid. Gawking at a gang fight like that.” -the man scoffed- “Have you been taught nothing in hero school?”- he finished, making his way past the stupefied students. None of them dared talk. They’d just been insulted and lectured on their heroism, by a villain no less. For the nth time in the same half hour it was the strange figure who snapped them out of their thoughts.

“Are you not going back to your bus? Were you are supposed to have been this whole time?” he said, without wavering in his walk. The class didn’t follow the villain, instead staying put just as the police, paramedics and a few heroes arrived. Upon seeing that another one of their teachers was there they ran towards him, shaken by the villain and the whole situation in general.

As class president, Iida was unspokenly selected to be the one to speak up.

“Oboro sensei! The villain, he went that way!” he exclaimed, pointing in the direction of their bus and the museum while getting the mans attention. The teacher quickly ran to the class and checked them over. Seeing no obvious wounds or signs of fighting, he started questioning them.

“Villain? I thought this was a gang fight,” -he frowned, looking at the men currently getting arrested in the park. Stain had called the situation in, initially just as an altercation, then he’d updated to say The Clowder was there and Cat had mentioned an apparently overdue gang fight in neutral zone, hence the random park.

That got the teacher thinking, he couldn’t see any member of The Clowder or Stain, but he had heard that the latter had left the scene. Given that teaming up with vigilantes was technically illegal, they couldn’t really talk about them through the usual channels in situations like this, so he didn’t know what they had done after the fight. It wasn’t like Cat to leave a bunch of teenagers unsupervised in a situation like this, and he had to have known Stain had left. He was shaken out of his musings by his students yelling over each other.

“But there was a villain-“

“-all in black-“

“-creepy cat mask-“

“-and the knife!-“

“-with the blood-“

“-and he was all ‘you’re stupid’-“

“-to the bus-“

“-sensei, we almost died-“

Shirakumo was barely getting half of the information thrown at him, but it was enough to start piecing together what had happened. Looking at the still unconscious and badly beaten people strewn about the park, he hoped he was wrong. But whatever the case, he now knew he hadn’t been wrong about one thing: it wasn’t like Cat to leave a bunch of teenagers alone.

“Okay, alright, hang on a second!” he silenced his class. “So this person had a cat mask, was dressed in all black, talked to you, and then went on in the direction of your bus?” he clarified. His students nodded mutely, starting to question whether they had overreacted seeing as their teacher wasn’t very worried about the man in black. Said teacher sighed and seemed to relax a little, though not completely.

“Well done for not randomly following a stranger,” -the class perked up at the praise, but deflated upon hearing their sensei’s next words. “It was, however, irresponsible to not listen to your teacher when he gave you an order in this situation.” - he finished with a firm but gentle tone. And, oh no, that was his ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ face.

The class looked at the floor, ashamed at their actions now that the situation was over. Noticing that his students understood what they had done wrong, Shirakumo perked up and slapped on his usual smile.

“Well, hope you’ve learned your lesson! Lets get back to school now, yeah?” - he exclaimed, starting to herd the class back to the bus. Most went with it, but Kaminari had other thoughts.

“Wait, but what about the villain?!” - he said pointing in the general direction they were walking in now. At that, the class stopped and turned to look at their teacher again.

“Oboro sensei referred to him as a person, not a villain, and even seemed to relax a little after confirming who we were talking about. It’s possible we made a wrong assumption, and he was never a villain at all.” -It was, not that surprisingly, Momo who spoke up.

Her words brought thoughtful expressions upon her classmates faces, and they resumed walking, slightly less weary than before.

“Maybe he’s an underground hero, like Akaguro sensei!” - Kirishima spoke up just as they made it to the bus. This got the class to perk up and start murmuring excitedly, all traces of fear gone. Before they could start boarding the bus, however, a figure fell from overhead, getting everyones attention and effectively shutting them up.

A still unfamiliar but known voice spoke up.

“Close, but no.” the monotone voice said, before getting on the bus and slumping on a seat at the front.

The class gaped. That was the man from before.

“Move it” the voice said with just the slightest bit of urgency in its tone. Shirakumo quickly herded everyone back into the bus and, after ensuring they were all buckled in, got in the driver’s seat and sped towards UA. Cat was alone and hitching a ride on the bus. His tone held a hint of desperation. Stain had randomly left his students (though not unsupervised) during a fight. That could only mean one thing.

The Kittens were hurt.

And if Cat didn’t get to them soon, someone was actually going to die.

next chapter