#my stomach is quite literally fighting its way out of my body. i can't do this

[moonchild-in-blue]

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I'm gonna be sick. If it isn't like this, then I don't want it 🍊

[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."

[its-ya-boi-autumn]

Hi, so do you feel comfortable with doing a Kurapika smut where Kurapika finds out the reader (fem reader) is like vv stressed from whatever (work, helping Kurapika hunt down the fantom troupe, ext.) and decides to help her out? And can Kurapika have an overstimulation kink, and a stomach bulge kink? Ik it’s sort of specific, but can you a sprinkle in a generous amount of neck kisses? Thanks-

you can call me lovengie🍒

Of course I can Love~ I've been waiting for a request for ages, glad you sent one in!~ I'm feeling a little better for the time being so if anyone wants to send in a request I'd be happy to take some~ (especially the cute fluffy ones~) This one's a doozy, might of gotten a little carried away with writing it, hopefully it's up to your standards~

Edit: tell my why the fuck I just realized that when I put this into google docs to check the word count it was 8 fucking pages-

Word Count: 4190 (oh yeah definitely got carried away-)

Warnings: F! Reader, giving dom Kurapika, sensitive receiving sub reader, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, stomach bulge, slight impact play (spanked like once or twice), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, cockwarming near the end, slight angst (maybe), unprotected sex (please don't repeat ;-;), there's a bit of plot at the beginning but not much~

You began to become tired, hungry, and cold over the past few days. Kurapika was relentless, not even offering any sort of relaxation due to his need for revenge. Your energy was depleting and therefore your power was growing useless to him. Soon this anxiety took its toll on you and your agitation was only growing with the stress.

You'd managed to get him to stop for the night, cooped up in a small hotel room close by to where the phantom troupe was supposedly keeping quarters. You knew why he was being like this, why all of this mattered so much, but at the same time you started to wonder if it was actually worth it. After all, he may of been strong but just the two of you running after them by yourselves wouldn't be enough.

"Hey Kurapika," you started, ripping a brush through your wet hair, "do you think we could relax for a few days?" you already knew the answer, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to ask him.

"Are you crazy? Of course not, they're so close we've gotta keep moving y/n." the response was a guarantee, though you weren't quite discouraged.

"Hey, I'm not gonna be able to fight well at all if I'm this tired all the time. I can't even get to full powered nen because of this." the argument was futile despite the fact that it made perfect sense. Though nothing was going to make any sense to him so long as the troupe was within his grasp. The boy clenched his teeth, jaw tensing. Now you'd done it, but you didn't care. You knew your point made sense and you weren't just going to submit to this anymore.

"We can't sit here and argue about this. You're lucky I made this pit stop. This is all because you're acting weak-"

"Look, I know you want to keep moving and we can, but I need to sit for a few days."

"They'll be gone in a few days-"

"No they won't! They don't have anything they need. They're literally just down the way even if we stay right here, they'll still be there." You cut him off, pushing for your side of the argument. He stood from the window sill, facing you.

"If you wanna quit and leave then go ahead but I'm not going to let them sit in peace! I have no time for babysitting!" his voice had risen to quite a degree, almost frightening you if it hadn't been for the adrenaline already coursing through your body. The words still stung a little. Did he really find you that much of a burden?

You actually considered it for a moment, leaving. You knew that you couldn't really do this, keeping up with him and then fighting off an entire gang of powerful nen users? There was just no way. Not unless you got some rest for a few days. You inhaled.

"I'm not going anywhere," you set the brush down and zipped up the luggage bag you'd been carrying, "but if I don't get some sort of rest or replenish my energy enough I'm not going to be able to help you. So maybe it is better if you just go." you finished the sentence with laying down and turning over. Kurapika grit his teeth, turning back to face the window.

Later on in the night, he still hadn't slept. You never felt the weight of his body next to yours nor did he offer you any sort of comfort, too preoccupied in his own head as always. You thought to yourself that he really should relax. You couldn't sleep either however, too focused on what he'd said earlier that night. That he was babysitting. You didn't cry, but the words definitely hurt more than you'd of liked to admit. Again, the thoughts of simply leaving the job to him was floating in your brain, but you knew he wouldn't make it on his own. No matter what he said or how confident or driven he may have been. He'd need support. You'd give that to him, after all he was your boyfriend. It'd be the end of the relationship if you left, not just the mission alone.

Finally, after some dead hours in the night, the bed shifted as if someone laid next to you. Kurapika was finally going to sleep. You let out another sigh, relieved that he'd take the time to rest though knowing he'd likely get up extra early in the morning.

"Hey," his voice sounded groggy, "y/n?" the urge to ignore him kept you silent for a few moments, not quite ready to speak with him again.

"I know you're awake." he tried again, this time mocking comfort with a hand at your side. Kurapika gave your side a light squeeze, causing you to wriggle at the ticklish sensation. You let out a quick breath, throwing his hand off of you only for him to gently place it back. It moved up and down your waistline in attempt to soothe a false ache.

"About what I said earlier..." he kept his tone low, the feeling of his breathe on your neck gave you chills. You turned over, eyes meeting his. He looked so tired, bags hanging heavy under his eyes as they drooped in a similar fashion. You averted your gaze down to his chest, about to flip back over to fall asleep. He stopped you, keeping you facing him.

"I'm really sorry y/n. I guess I should've thought about you as well." hearing him say it flipped a switch in your brain.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." you whispered back to him, really just too tired to speak at the moment. Again when you tried to flip onto your other side he stopped you.

"Come here." the command sent another flurry of shivers through your back. You remained still as he closed in on you. Hip lips met yours for a brief moment, only enough to send blood rushing to your cheeks. That was definitely unexpected. Kurapika did it once more, then moved down to your cheek and jawline, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your breathing accelerated slightly, your chest flushing at the contact. The hand on your waist moved across your stomach, drawing circles with his palm around your belly button.

"I apologize for my outburst, again I hope I didn't hurt you." he spoke through kisses, peppering the side and front of your neck, nibbling here and there near your collarbone. The circles on your stomach stopped only for him to move up and down, teasing your skin with tingles and subtle shockwaves both downward and upwards. You could feel your nipples perk beneath the thin fabric of the shirt and your panties moisten a little through your pajama pants.

"I didn't mean it like that." he apologized yet again, shifting to be on top of you. Kurapika's hand moved higher and higher until finally his fingertips brushed against one of your breasts. His head moved to the other side of your neck, sucking lightly on the skin there as well. Fingers tugged at your nipple, causing a gasp to leave your open mouth. He rolled the bud between his fingers before tugging on it again. You felt your back arch into his touch, begging for more.

"Does that feel better?" he asked, speaking directly into your ear. You nodded, your hands holding onto his shirt.

"Answer me y/n." he pulled on your nipple harder this time, a small whine leaving your lips.

"Yes, it feels really nice." you gave a short and simple reply which was all he needed. Kurapika lifted your shirt enough for your tits to fall out nicely.

"Beautiful." he mumbled more to himself than to you, though his praise turned you on more than you thought it might. It had been a long while since he'd touched you and you weren't going to stop him now. He gave you light kisses on your chest, leaving marks there rather than on your neck. No one would be able to notice them but you'd feel them the next day. You'd wished he'd hurry up already and give it to you, but he wouldn't be in any rush. Despite his temper, Kurapika preferred to go slow with you. Watching you writhe and beg beneath him made him feel things he never experienced often enough.

"Stay still y/n, I don't want to accidentally hurt you." he gave you another order, one you'd likely fail to fulfill with all of the teasing he provided. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, ripples of pleasure being sent immediately to your lower regions. You tried your best to lay still but you shouldn't help the shaking of your legs around his body. His free hand roamed the other side of your chest, occasionally running against the other nipple and tweaking it every now and then. The feeling made your eyes heavy though your body responded with surges of energy, stiff and arched underneath him. Your hands gripped his shirt sleeves tightly, eyes rolled back.

"That's it, you're doing so good." he kissed your chest again before coming face to face with you, giving you a short break to recollect your senses. His hands ran down your body to the hem of your pants and the back up to give your tits a delicate squeeze. Kurapika looked down upon you with a loving gaze as he repeated this action several times. Finally you'd had enough, gripping his wrists and staring back up at him.

"Kurapika please," you started, suddenly shy at the prospect of asking for what you wanted.

"What is it y/n?" he replied, his voice almost a whisper.

"Will you prep me, please?" you forced yourself to say the words as politely as possible without stuttering, voice shaky. He smiled at that, glad you managed to speak up for yourself.

"Of course, since you asked so kindly." he let go of your breasts, moving his hands back down to your pants again. The chill air rushed to meet your skin, goosebumps scattering along it's soft surface. His hands move back up your thighs to its apex, stopping right before your panty line. Though it was dark, he still managed to catch sight of the little wet patch stained on the fabric.

Still shaking slightly you gave him a whine, a signal to make some sort of move. His eyes met yours again, waiting. He wanted you to ask again.

"Please, touch me." you asked softly, the shame painting your cheeks and bright pink again. Not stuttering was harder than you'd thought, what with the coolness of the room and your boyfriends hands roaming your body over and over.

"Where?" the one word alone nearly made you cry out had it not been for the thin walls of your vacated room. Your fingers grasped at the pillow beneath your head as you closed your eyes. You didn't want to say it but you knew he wouldn't do anything you wanted if you didn't ask.

"M-my um..."

"Hmm?" he pushed his hands up higher, pressing faintly against the lips of your pussy. The pressure made you tense for a second.

"Touch my clit please." You were quiet about it though he didn't push you, opting to remove both hands from your thighs. Before you could complain however a soft influx prodded at your sensitive bundle of nerves beneath your panties. You felt a shudder run through you as his thumb rubbed circles over your clothed clit. Your hips raised slightly in momentum to gain more friction.

"Hey, what did I say earlier?" he questioned, stopping his ministrations.

"Sorry, it just feels really good."

"I know y/n, but if you don't listen then I'll stop." he prompted, making you shake your head.

"Please don't stop!" you didn't even think about the words before they left your mouth, too trained on the feeling of his thumb against your now throbbing bud.

"Are you going to listen to me then?"

"Yes." you gave a short breathed reply before he continued. Your head fell back onto the pillow, one of your own hands playing with your nipple for added pleasure. Your thighs began shaking again and your legs raised a little, giving him more access he didn't yet need. His thumb dipped down to tease the hole you desperately needed him to fill for you, emitting a quiet moan from you.

"Do you want these off y/n?"

"Yes please." you answered without hesitation.

"Then take them off for me." he gave another order, removing himself from your body to watch. Now that you'd been riled up enough, you weren't as coy about getting off. Quickly you discarded of your undergarment and opened your legs back up. The throbbing sensation returned with the onset of the air on your now wet pussy.

"Good girl." he praised you again. You felt a tiny droplet drip down your slit onto the sheets below. Your hands kneaded your breasts in wait for him.

"What do you want?"

"I'll take whatever you give me." the words were awfully bold of you, both of you knew that. Though there was no taking them back. Kurapika gave you a smirk before crawling back up to you. His head came back down to your ear.

"Are you sure about that one y/n?" he gave the shell of your ear a lick as his hand cupped the outside of your core.

"Yes. Absolutely positive." that was a straight up lie though you needed him to do something. You jerked your hips up for some added encouragement. He finally took that as his signal and drove two fingers into your entrance. The intrusion caused you to tense up again, squeezing his fingers tightly.

"Relax, it's alright." he cooed at you, offering shallow thrusts to your already fluttering walls. One of your hands grabbed at his wrist for something to hold onto while the other reached up under the pillow and practically white knuckled on the case. Kurapika's digits pressed and prodded at the spongy surface on the top wall of your inner workings, sending the shakes through your thighs to your knees. Your eyes fell closed as you let the pleasure wash over your bottom half.

"Is that better?" he gave you another kiss on the neck while you nodded.

"Yes, yes right there please-" you uttered the words breathlessly. Though Kurapika held the same pace, not speeding up nor slowing down despite your pleads. The steady rhythm dragged you closer and closer to your release, though it wasn't enough to push you over. You let out a strained whine, opening your eyes to glance up at him.

"Faster please-" you tried to ask nicely, hoping he'd relieve you here and now. Though your prayer was not answered and he continued his steady pace inside of you.

"Kurapika-"

"Hush." he shut you up with a kiss to your cheek before slowing down. A cry rumbled in your throat, more than pissed at his motives whatever they were. Since you continued to whine he decided to pull his fingers from you entirely.

"No, why!" Your hole clenched around nothing as he sat up in front of you. He didn't give you a verbal answer, thinking you already knew why he retracted.

"I'm sorry, please..." you gave another attempt. A light but firm smack was planted on your inner thigh, close to where your pussy was soaking. The assault surprised you. He'd never hit you before and you weren't quite sure if you liked it. The warmth of his skin burned as he soothed the area.

"I-I'll listen, I will, Kurapika." you offered again, widening your legs for him to enter again. He let out a huff, delving back against your core. His finger ran up your slit once. Twice. Three times. Another slap was delivered to your other thigh for good measure, causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure. The shock sent a tickle to your pussy again, shown by the leakage on the sheets.

His hands lifted your thighs up, pushing your legs back against your stomach. His grip was rigid on your plush thighs, keeping them in place while he leaned down. Your eyes widened, thanking him over and over in your head. He didn't even try to tease you, his tongue slicking over your clit repeatedly. Your hands reached down to hold his as they made craters in your skin. You couldn't help the whiny moans and curses that the filled the room. Your legs lifted a little for more, opening you up so his tongue could reach inside your tight walls.

Kurapika moved up again to focus his attention on your little bundle of nerves, sucking and lapping at the twitching bud. Your hands reached between your legs to hold his face still, signaling by your growing voice and shaking legs that you were about to come. He didn't try stop you from rocking your hips against his face. The vibrations of your nerves being sent into near shock shook you quite literally to the edge.

In no time you could feel the twist in your stomach come undone, your hands flying up to grab the headrest for something to hang on to. Tears pricked at your eyes at the utter experience of your high. Kurapika came up from your pussy, wiping his face before his hands came back down to your waist.

"Good girl, did that feel nice?"

"Ye-yes-" you replied, hands and legs still quaking. Before you could even really register your come down, you felt yourself flip over. Kurapika disacred his shirt and pulled his pants down just enough for his semi-hard cock to free itself. You had no idea how he wasn't bulging at the seams but that was possibly due to the fact that you'd been the one receiving all of the pleasure, not the other way around.

"Kurapika, do you want-"

"No, it's alright." he cut you off yet again, running his hand along the length. He held your hips up before rubbing his length against your still sensitive clit. You gasped, entwining your fingers with the sheets once more.

"You think you can come for me again, y/n?" he asked, leaning down as he still ran his hardening dick along you slit.

"Maybe..." you weren't actually sure. Considering you just came rather hard just mere moments ago.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes." you did, if only for him. He hummed, sliding the tip around your hole. You clenched, possibly not quite ready to take him.

"Touch yourself, maybe it'll help you relax." he proposed. Your hand wasted no time in reaching down to run the pads of your fingers along your still hard clit. The direct stimulation was overwhelming but you egged yourself on to open up some more. Kurapika watched your hand work against your pussy, his eyes trained completely on the sight.

"Keep going, that's a good girl." he rubbed along the backs of your thighs, adding to the already building tension. He didn't tell you to do so but you dipped your fingers into yourself anyways, letting out a whimper at the feeling. You heard the sharp intake of breath behind you as he watched, turning you on even more. You didn't delve very deep, wanting to feel the full stretch of his cock, but you allowed yourself to stretch enough to take him in at least from the tip. Kurapika quickly moved your hand out of the way before pinning it to your back.

"That's enough, I think you'll be fine." the strain on your shoulder hurt a little more than you'd of liked it to, though you were distracted by the tip of his dick pressing against your entrance. You let out a short cry of pain as he pushed into you, not even allowing you to adjust until he was buried to hilt inside of you.

"Is that was you wanted y/n?" he gave a shallow thrust against your cervix.

"Yes~" the answer came out song-like, your voice lifting to a melodic tone.

"Stay still." he gave the order before his free hand came down onto your hip, keeping you in place while he pulled back out. He didn't immediately set a quick pace like you expected, instead going for something deeper, slower. He wanted you to feel every inch of his cock move inside of that tight little pussy of yours. And that you did. The head kissed your cervix every now and then, jolting through your body at every push against it. He picked up his pace some, now hitting against the back of your core with every thrust.

The pressure started to build again near the bottom of your stomach. Kurapika kept this steady rhythm for a bit longer than you'd of liked before stopping entirely. It was fairly obvious that he was close, said by the throbbing of his shaft against your walls. You didn't think much about begging before you fucked yourself onto him, throwing your hips back as quickly as you could manage. He didn't move, letting you do the work for the time being. His hand left your hip and smoothed down your side, stopping at your stomach and letting out a gasp.

He practically ripped himself from you, Turning you over onto your back and shoving himself back inside with no warning. Kurapika covered your mouth to quiet the shout you let out at the harsh sting.

"Shh, it's alright." he rubbed his thumb against your clit again as a distraction from the pain, which quickly faded. He sat up, staring down at your stomach.

"Aw would you look at that~" he teased, tracing an outline on your tummy. You sat up on your elbows, eyeing the obvious bulge in your stomach.

"Oh fuck..." you couldn't help but clench at the sight. It was no wonder you felt so full. He sucked in air through his teeth at the shift in your pussy.

"Do it again." he ordered, thrusting into you again. You did as you were told, clamping down on his cock deliciously. His breathing started to become labored, continuing to swing his hips into you faster and faster it seemed. You laid back against the mattress again, your hand feeling the way his dick bulged against your stomach. His own hand spread over yours, pushing down onto your belly button for added pleasure.

Curses began leaving his lips as both of you reached closer to your climax again. You bit your lip, trying to avoid screaming as the head of his dick scraped against the sweet spot inside of you. You swung your legs over his shoulders, taking him deeper than you thought you could. In turn this new position allowed Kurapika to slam against your g spot more than you could handle. The overwhelming sensation made you take your legs off his shoulders to ease it up a bit, though his hand left your stomach to hold your legs up, keeping you open for him. The action sent you barreling over the edge, more than enough stimulation to finish you. You could feel yourself cream over his cock enough to ruin the hotel bedding. A part of you almost felt bad for whoever would have to clean that in the morning...

Kurapika continued, his pace slowing and becoming sporadic. His fingers dug into your thigh, bruising the delicate skin there. You'd hoped he's stop soon, once again the overstimulation enough to make you pass out.

"Where." his tone was hurried.

"In, it's okay-" you didn't even get to finish your sentence before Kurapika stilled inside of you, his face coming down to yours and kissing you. His thrusts became shallow and rushed, his energy spent. He held your face in his hands while he stilled again, not removing himself and instead laying on top of you.

Both of you lay sweaty and tired, though he kept his lips attached to yours for a few minutes longer. Kurapika sat up on his elbows to look at you.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you." his voice was soft again, his teeth nipping at his lip nervously. You shook your head.

"It's fine, I'm sure I'll be alright in the morning-"

"No," he stopped you, "I meant earlier." you had forgotten all about that.

"Oh..."

"You're not a burden, I'm glad you're here with me. You can go home though if you like. I'm sorry for not thinking of you like I should of been."

"No, I'll stay. I wouldn't want you to fight them alone. Let's just rest for a little first okay?" you offered, running your hand along his cheek. He nodded, laying back down on your body.

"Are you going to pull out?" you asked, suddenly aware of the softening shaft still buried inside of you.

"I think I'll just stay here for the night." he chuckled, arms wrapping around you.

[fayeimara]

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Quiet Corners of Our World

SUMMARY. A busy Sunday becomes something else entirely when your typically routine-loving boyfriend has some unexpected surprises in store.

PAIRING. You x Sakusa Kiyoomi

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive

Reader Request Part Two | This is a continuation of the story in Small Moments.

It's a small kiss behind your ear that wakes you up, along with a whispered, "Good morning, love." You turn towards the deep baritone, seeking its owner even though you've barely roused. Sliding one hand forward to squeeze in between the cool pillow and cooler sheets, enhanced by the press of Sakusa's head still lying atop it, your other hand finds his cheek even before you've opened your eyes. When you do briefly flicker them open, it's to meet his amused gaze for just a moment before the bright rays streaming in from your windows compel your lids to flutter shut again. There's an enticing aroma in the air and it's not just your boyfriend's aftershave.

Tilting your head up in a silent plea for his soft lips to meet yours, you hear a low chuckle instead before you feel something light brush the tip of your nose back and forth. A butterfly kiss. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth but quickly turns into a pout when he his teasing tone breaks the silence again.

"I'd like a proper kiss, love, wouldn't you?"

You nod with an assenting hum and it seems he'd anticipated your non-verbal answer because he's already continuing. "Then you'll come brush your teeth, won't you? I have a surprise for my little butterfly."

The words are still soft with temptation and your eyes peek open again, this one longer than your first attempt. This time, when you meet Kiyo's deep gaze, it anchors you to him as you fight off the last hazy remnants of your sleep. If only you didn't feel like you could lay there falling into the dark, mesmerizing pools of his eyes instead.

You're tempted to close your eyes again just to regain your equilibrium but it would be quite futile. That, and you're realizing it's Sunday, which means both you and Sakusa have your respective engagements for the day. Your mind wanders back to the previous day, an improvised but perfect lazy date indoors, which already seems so far from reach.

What if the two of you canceled your plans to pursue a whole, lazy weekend? Would the world stop turning? You smirk, tempted to be a little bad and see if you can convince Kiyo to join your sudden scheme.

"What's that little smile about, sweetheart?" You startle, realizing your thoughts have wandered while he continued to study you, holding your unfocused gaze. He has his own little smirk on his face, as though he's actually able to peer right through your eyes and view your most intimate daydreams.

A blush works its way onto your cheeks, you can feel the warmth even if you can't see it but you're definitely aware of his eyes tracking every miniscule change with that beguiling smile still curving his lips. You pretend to stretch out in order to hide your clearly telling expression, hoping to compose yourself again quickly. With your arms hovering over your face you miss his movement, only feeling the slightest shift before his fingers caress the now exposed skin at your stomach and waist.

"Kiyo!" You're jackknifing so fast in order to jump out of the bed as you reach for his wrist to pull his arm away but he's not done with flustering you when you're in your sleepy state because his other arm catches you mid lunge and you're drawn back against his hard body before you can even register that you're trapped.

Kiyoomi's long legs stretch out alongside yours, shepherding them with light pressure so that he can form a cage around you, finally complete when the hand with the wandering fingers enters your line of sight before dropping to your shoulder. Arms criss-crossed around you, one across your waist and the other crossing that space just below your collarbone, he finally leans in with a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, "Didn't you want to stay in bed longer? Isn't that what you were just thinking... How you might convince me to stay?"

Even as your stomach flips at his seductive tenor, your face burns as you're caught at your own game before you could even begin to truly consider it. What a dangerously perceptive man you've chosen to call your own. And how like him to torment you when you're caught unaware. He had better be prepared for some payback. Much later.

"Ah..no."

"No?"

"No." You shrug as much as you can in his hold, thankful you're at least facing away as you boldly lie, "I was... thinking about you brushing my teeth."

You might have actually thrown him for a loop as he pauses and then, his flirtatious game forgotten, warily repeats, "Me brushing your teeth?"

Oh no. You can't laugh. But it's difficult as you can quite literally imagine the exact look of distaste on his face at this very moment. He might end up thinking it's an amusing or even cute concept some day but this reaction is pretty typical when he processes new actions that go against his natural instincts. Exactly why you chose this very visual.

"Mhm. You withheld my rightful kisses because you wanted me to brush my teeth first, didn't you?" Okay, so maybe there's a little payback for him sooner than you'd planned. Three birds, one stone. What a feat.

"So... you think I want to brush them for you...?" He trails off, completely unsure where you're going with this.

You shake your head, tone quite glib when you elaborate on your lie, "Not quite. I just imagined you might force me, like a bad puppy or something you apparently think you can order around. That why I was smiling. The imagery and all."

"You were smirking." He corrects with authoritative tone completely ignoring your subtle admonishment. Is that humour seeping back in, as well? "But if you want me to treat you like a pet..."

You jerk forward again, trying to slip his hold as he manipulates the conversation to regain the upper hand. This isn't where the conversation was supposed to flow.

"Not a pet, Kiyoomi."

"Really? If you like that stuff, I guess I can give it a tr-"

"It was a joke!"

"You sure, pet?" His amusement is back full force and you have to roll your eyes at your now failed attempt to regain your composure because, well, maybe you walked into that one by being impulsive.

"It was actually a lie, wasn't it?"

You stay silent, debating if it's better to just refuse to talk until you're completely awake with a cup or two of coffee to fortify yourself from your boyfriend's unexpectedly bold banter today. It seems like Sakusa is in a playful mood but you have no idea why, given that you each will be going separate ways for your respective commitments in less than two hours.

You find yourself suddenly lifted up in his arms, as he effortlessly carries you off the bed before swinging you up like a ragdoll, in a maneuver that ends with his arms cradling you bridal style as he walks you both to the adjoining bathroom. Now you're actually speechless, without deliberate intention, as you find yourself staring up at the elegant lines of his face, hands having wildly grabbed his shirt at the chest and behind his neck when he moved.

His dark eyes are filled with mirth as they connect with yours, "Your silence is incriminating, love. I may just have to follow through with your request in retaliation for ever uttering such a suggestion."

"I didn't ask-" You start of indignant but end up cutting yourself off as a thought occurs to you, "Wait. Do you actually like the idea?"

His eyes narrow down at you, face falling into his classic inconvenienced expression as if you've somehow disrupted his rhythm. Isn't it the other way around? Hey, you should be the one giving him that look!

"Of course not." His voice is clipped and slightly unconvincing.

When he finally sets you down on your feet, you lean on the counter to watch him as he reaches for your toothbrush, neatly squeezing out the perfect amount of paste on its bristles before letting it swing quickly under a soft, brief stream from the tap.

It's when he turns back to you, holding it up holding the instrument up to your mouth and going, "Say ahhh." as if trying to feed a toddler, that you realize he's actually going to try to brush your teeth. You suppose neither of you have been good at backing down from the others' challenge and it's placed you in odder scenarios than this. A giggle spills from your lips at how silly this one is and it's his small answering smile, with a mix of self-deprecation and good humour, that prompts you to obediently follow his instructions.

It's... intimate, to say the least. He's very methodical, probably too gentle, as he makes sure to count out the strokes at each and every side. You find yourself with rare minutes of being able to study him completely unfettered, starting with the tiny dent between his brows from the intense concentration to his task at hand. The way his head tilts and mouth purses between instructions to you is quite endearing.

But as his eyes wander up to yours, the bristles begin to tickle your gums, as if he's applying exactly the wrong amount of pressure, enough to make it unbearable so you're pulling your toothbrush from his fingers to finish the job with ingrained, thorough efficiency.

You notice he doesn't move for his own brush, watching you instead with a silly smile that no one else would believe Sakusa Kiyoomi could produce. When you finish, mouth clean and minty fresh, he leans down to present another butterfly kiss but this time you finally feel the soft melt of his lips onto yours before he pulls away again. Hm.. he's already brushed his teeth before you woke?

You can't help but tease, "So that's it, huh? I suppose my kisses were denied on account of morning breath."

"Not quite." He mimics your own words from just earlier and it has you arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"Mhm.. convenient timing to receive my first kiss of the day, then."

"Love, I would kiss you any time of day or night. There's nothing about you that could push me away."

The absolute certainty with which he says that makes it feel like your heart could beat its way out of your chest just to go claim its space in the undeniable warmth of his.

But.. "Then why use it as a bribe?"

Instead of answering, Kiyo curls his fingers around yours to draw you back into the bedroom as he throws over his shoulder, "It's probably cool by now, so it might be a little late but..."

And with a little gesture, he reveals the source of the heady aroma that you couldn't place earlier, the savoury scents of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup permeating your room, scents which now feel quite familiar and easily placed once you see the prepared breakfast tray perched on his side table.

"Oh Kiyo.. breakfast in bed?"

"We missed it yesterday and I was up early so I wanted to surprise you." He sounds a little disheartened but you've never been one to shirk food even if it's not piping hot.

It couldn't have been sitting too long either, it hasn't been more than ten minutes since he tried to wake you, maybe fifteen. You move back to the bed, careful to fold the soft down duvet to the lower half of the bed. It's a pretty big step for him to bring such spillable and worse, stainable, meals into your room, let alone on the bed.

You look him over carefully but truly can't find a single tell that it's bothering him, so you accept your tray gracefully, seating it on the bed between you both as you notice two pairs of chopsticks. A shared breakfast in bed. While he's long since gotten over his aversion of sharing food, at least with you, it's definitely a monumental milestone and an incredibly romantic gesture in his special way.

It's over this new shared moment that you're tucking away in your memories, that Sakusa give you his biggest surprise yet.

"I've canceled our plans for today." "You ca- our- what?" You're at a loss for words, wondering what's prompted these sudden impulses in your typically steadfast boyfriend.

"I've canceled out plans for today and made us new ones."

You're speechless again, in the calm face of Sakusa Kiyoomi, who has managed to spend the little time you've been awake completely blindsiding you with new experiences and developments. Why is he pushing himself so?

"Baby-"

"Love. Don't question it. Just follow my lead, yes?" His question is so openly trusting, as if the only answer you can give is an affirmative yes, that it takes your breath away. This man..

"...yes."

The first place Sakusa takes you on what you've now realized is a second attempt at your much anticipated but canceled date from yesterday is far more extravagant than the simple park picnic you'd planned. The two of you spent about an hour's car ride before finally arriving at your destination - the breathtaking botanical gardens you're now strolling through.

It's everything you imagined and more, having never had the chance to visit previously, and it's the perfect time to see almost all the flowers at their very peak, in full, resplendent bloom. The air is heavy with the natural fragrance of the vast gardens, the scents tantalizing without becoming overwhelming, possibly due to the natural paths that divert from extremely aromatic sections at just the right pace and lead into refreshing contrast of scents as you weave through each of the different environmental hotspots.

Even Kiyo has his mask tucked down under his chin, the clean air and lack of crowds enabling an easy freedom from his usual concerns. You trail through most of the flower gardens in the southeast portion up to the northeast corner of the sprawling land before spying a maze of many tangled trees, all twisting and twining together in various formations.

As you approach, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to pull slightly ahead, you realize it's actually been cultured to grow as a real, living maze. There are arched entrances made from the same twisting bark, strands about the size of your wrist or smaller twining to cover more surface area in specific spots. You duck through one of the entrances to explore, marvelling at being able to hear Kiyoomi so clearly as he calls to you in exasperation to wait for him.

You don't intend to, of course, because you're delighted to discover this little marvel and that excitement only heightens your urge to tease and play with him a little. You're certain he's picked up his pace, hot on your trail as you duck through many different types of 'doorways' and 'windows', sacrificing your sense of direction to barely keep ahead.

He remains mostly quiet, calling your name softly every now and then, but you're undeniably attuned to his fall of his steps and continue to choose the direction that will take you most opposite him so as to avoid sudden junctions where the gnarled maze might allow him to cross your path in his pursuit.

As the sounds of nature start to dull around you, as if soaking into the depths of the maze, you realize that you too have already traversed further than you intended. It becomes more difficult to identify Kiyo's steps around you, lush grass growing steadily the farther in you seem to progress, even the curled branches seem to soften but you soon catch on to the reason why.

Soft buds are now visible and as you go deeper still, you encounter their full blooms, sprouting in a light pink blush. The path is more linear now, with almost no more forks or diversions to choose from, and before you realize it, you've arrived at the center of the maze. Directly in front, at its very heart, stands an elegant marble gazebo adorned with the same pink flowers yet with a complimentary mix of pale white and even dark red flowers threaded through, their striking petals peeking out as if from behind a latticed shield.

You've stopped entirely, taking a deep breath in as your eyes land first on the layered fountain, also gleaming marble, beyond the gazebo and then quickly shift to what's in between the two structures. Two wrought iron benches sit facing each other so that one only has to turn their head to each side to admire a different view and on one of the benches is what seems to be an abandoned picnic basket. Between the two benches sits a pastel picnic blanket, spread out with more than enough room for two.

You feel Sakusa's quiet presence behind you a second before his arm loops your waist and his smug whisper reaches your ear, "Caught you, little butterfly."

Your mouth drops open as you realized how deftly and thoroughly you were enticed into and maneuvered through this seemingly random maze. He really does know you too well, this beautiful man.

"You planned this?"

"You wanted a picnic, didn't you, love?" You don't have to see that small, satisfied smile of his to hear it in his tone. He's practically glowing with the success of achieving his goal.

You suppose, since you had to cancel the reservation at that special restaurant yesterday, he might have felt compelled to make it up in some way. At this point, however, everything starts to overwhelm you and the light sting at your eyes warns you that one of your rare, emotional moments might just intrude on this small moment.

It's Sakusa, grasping your chin to turn and tilt your face up to his, who answers your unspoken question, the one you need answered.

"Not a single moment for this day was planned from guilt. I just.. wanted to make you as happy as you make me."

"But Kiyo.. are you happy?"

He pauses as if to contemplate his current state but when he answers, he's clear and unhesitant, "I'm so incredibly happy, love. I get you all to myself in our own little corner of the world."

There's something about his words that sparks a memory of a thought you had yesterday, when you made what could have been considered sacrifices for him but was really an incredible, restful day you thoroughly enjoyed yourself from the very moment you'd committed to it. Fair enough then, you trust Sakusa to be unfailingly honest with you and can do nothing more than accept his genuine words. It would be a waste of his careful, meticulous plans to let any doubt ruin the day.

He leads you forward through the beautiful gazebo, moving slowly so you can admire the dedication that has gone into cultivating such a striking space, before helping you down onto the blanket. Once he retrieves the basket sitting idly by on the bench, because it was not in fact an abandoned item but a planned one, he rejoins you on the blanket so that you can examine the contents as you help him lay out the spread.

Incredible, he's somehow got your favourite food and drinks together, from substantial meals for you both, to delicious dessert, and even the drinks have remained chilled in the heat of a midsummer afternoon peak.

Hm.. "How exactly did this get here? You were with me the entire hour it took us to make our way up here and I would definitely have noticed you carrying this."

"I had some help."

"Not going to elaborate?" You give him your most pleading look, you actually think you have an idea but your curiosity is more focused on confirming your guess between several most likely possibilities.

But he just smiles and it's almost maddening when he replies, "No. I'd rather talk about what portions of the gardens you still want to visit. I definitely don't want to rush you but I was hoping to leave before it gets completely dark out."

"That's about three hours, right? "

"Yes, love."

You consider what you know of the gardens for a moment and then with certainty, you answer, "There are only two spots I'd like to see before dark. The butterfly garden and the pools, the ones they say make you feel like you're on some other, magical world."

"That's perfect," Sakusa reviews his mental map of the gardens, "They're both on our way through the loop that'll take us completely through the rest of the gardens. It shouldn't take us more than maybe an hour and a half to finish our tour here once we're done lunch."

You hesitate, something on your mind from his earlier statement about leaving before it's too dark, but decide to say, "There's also a whole section fitted with beautiful lights that turn with the sunset, it's been described to be mystical, like finding fairies playing in the gardens..."

"We'll be able to enjoy that on the way out, love, I've already checked."

"Oh." You pause for a moment in both surprise and appreciation, "You're just so well prepared today, aren't you?"

He arches an eyebrow with indignation, "When am I not?"

"Hm," you let out a chuckle at his expression before clarifying, "I mean, with the finer details of the date, Kiyo. You usually leave that to me?"

"Are you disappointed so far?"

"I'm as far from disappointed as I can be, baby." Without knowing, you answer Sakusa with a smile he's seen countless times today.

It's a stunning one but that's not what's so special about it - it's the very smile he loves to see adorn your face, this expression of complete joy and abandonment. A testament to your free spirit thriving even anchored to his grounded beast, the two of having met in the middle to ruin each other in the best way possible.

The remainder of the afternoon flutters by as you and Kiyo finish your meal before following the plan of action you discussed. The butterfly conservatory and oasis of pools are as breathtaking as expected, creating a multitude of small, precious moments for your memories. The fairy lights quite literally seem to be out of this world, almost as if you've been transported into a beautiful fantasy that's really just another perfect little corner of your shared world.

When you finish up at the gardens with the sun having set, you find out that Sakusa has yet another surprise in store for the day as you both first head home to change into semi-formal outfits. He looks decadent in his black silk button up and you finally get to wear the stunning cocktail dress he gifted to you on your last birthday.

You're moved to tears for the second time that day when you realize where he's taking you for dinner, the very restaurant you had to cancel the reservation for the day before. The same restaurant you both shared your very first date together, back when it was still a little known but elegant spot, long before becoming as popular as it today.

It's there, as you sit on the towering balcony, so unnervingly close to the skies and under a carpet of twinkling stars that you feel you could almost reach out and brush, that Sakusa finds his breath becoming shorter and hands shiver with nerves, as one slips into the pocket of his slacks to brush against the small velvet box that he's carried with him since your third month together.

There have been many small, perfect moments today, ones where his hand slipped in and out of his pocket as he debated if it was the right moment. This weekend has been an unexpected whirlwind of worthwhile compromises but the best example of why he knew, that very day he was drawn to step into the jewelry store, that there would never be anyone else he wanted by his side more than you.

It's at this small moment, in this quiet corner of his world with you, that your eyes meet his with your brilliant, perfect smile painting your lips, and Sakusa's hands suddenly still. His breath evens out, certainty calming his thoughts as his answering smile curves at his mouth. There's no doubt that with you, every moment is exactly the right moment.

A/N: Surprise! It's your date with Sakusa (adorably planned by Sakusa) <3 :D This is partially why completing your request took a little longer - I'm honestly so happy to be able to explore writing a request (so excited that I made it two oop-) and as I've mentioned by now, you were my first lol so I really wanted to make sure it was commemorated with something special. Also, how could I give you only just one or the other with the love of your life? He's literally perfect and has a piece of my heart too so once I thought about how to fulfill your request and landed on the first part, the second just kind of bloomed from it. An expected date turning into a lazy day and now a day that begins lazy but is really the most thoughtful of surprise date days planned by the man who treasures your love... I really hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for and that you enjoyed reading <3

Vibe. Oh, and in case you're curious, I had Daydream in Blue by I Monster on repeat for these :)

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[aetheternity]

Hard Pass P5 (Levi x reader)

Synopsis: Levi is forced out of his comfy dorm room and in a strange twist of events right into your arms at a college party.

Levi hadn't remembered a time since he'd began college in which he'd been alone for several hours with zero interruptions. And yet here he'd been slaving over the hot stove in his room since about 10 am and.. nothing.

The weird peace of not being interrupted by Mike's loud greetings coupled with some girl he'd brought back with him. No Hange to talk his ear off about some nonsense and no Erwin and his inability to use his newest pair of bluetooth headphones. It was as sad as it was beautiful.

He'd been trapped deep within his thoughts for so long that he almost missed the barely audible knock at the door.

"..Levi?" Came a distant and unsure sounding voice.

Y/N..

He set the bowl of beef stew he'd prepared down on the table, untying his apron and setting it to the side before carefully walking to the door and opening it slowly. There Y/N stood. Her face flushed like she'd been standing in the freezing cold too long, her eyes red as she looked to Levi.

"Sorry.. I smelled food and.." She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. "I didn't mean to invite myself."

Levi shook his head. "Come in." He gestured randomly wanting to hit himself in the forehead for his awkwardness but Y/N didn't seem to notice.

Once she'd entered he shut the door behind her, pointing her to the table. "You can have that bowl. It's fresh off the stove." He walked back to the kitchen handing Y/N a spoon from the pack Erwin had given him earlier this morning. He quickly picked out one for himself grabbing a new bowl in the process.

"I-I don't wanna impose.." She tried

Levi frowned as he made himselfa new bowl of stew, "I'm giving it to you, I made too much and Hange and Erwin haven't stopped by all day."

She sat at the table looking dazily at the bowl in front of her. "Thanks Levi.." She muttered, dipping her spoon into the contents with hesitation.

Levi had just as soon fixed himself a new bowl seating himself across from Y/N. Her eyes glistened and she stared into the bowl for almost too long before giving it a taste. Her lips upturning and Levi extinguished a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Levi, this is really good." She gave a polite smile.

Levi's eyes widened and his face started to heat. "Th-thank you.."

When she looked away again his eyes trailed back to her. Her eyes were so puffy, her lips bruised a bit as if she'd been biting them. Should he ask? Could he ask? What the hell had happened to her? He needed to know but..

Levi felt his heart scatter over his rib cage and hit the floor and her eyes landed on him again.

"You haven't touched yours.." She remarked

"I-I.."

She dropped the spoon suddenly, placing both hands on her face. "I'm so sorry Levi.." it was muffled.

As much as he really wanted to say literally anything in this moment to further progress the situation into some kind of revelation about her face nothing came to mind. Well.. except the awkward popping of his lips as he opened and closed his mouth to say absolutely nothing.

"No I mean-" She began again to Levi's own slight comfort. "I just.. came here to get away from Jean.. because he's been, just the worst. And I just hate him right now.. I needed to get away and the first person I thought to come to was you."

Levi must have looked surprised because she was quickly shaking her head so fast. "Please know that I don't plan to use you as a sort of scapegoat or something! No! That's not what I want I just.. you make me-" She giggled and Levi could swear her cheeks grew slightly pinker! Or he was imagining he.. could he be??

"Just.. I'm glad you're here." She shrugged quickly, shoveling a mouthful of beef stew down.

"Y-yeah.. yeah. I am.. what happened? I-I mean if you actually wanna say.."

She shook her head and Levi felt his grip on his spoon get sooooo much tighter. "He's just such a jerk.." She shook her head harder as if she was trying to rid her brain of the thought. "He got all weird last night, started a fight with me in front of Connie and Sasha. Sasha tried to break it up and Connie just sat on the floor with his phone tucked between his feet."

Levi stared into his beef stew wanting so badly to say literally anything helpful but words really were failing him today. He soon opted for nodding his head and biting the tip of his spoon.

"None of us got any sleep last night." She continued "I had to get out of there this morning."

A fight huh? Levi already felt as though he knew exactly what it was about. He pushed his elbows onto the table, seeing the remnants of tears starting to refill Y/N's eyes.

"Sleep here.." Levi tried awkwardly

It got her attention though. Had her looking up from her bowl with confusion spread over her innocent features. "Huh?"

Levi exhaled slowly, putting the words together in his head as best as possible. "You need rest. Sleep in my bed for a couple hours."

Y/N practically choked. "I-I can't.."

"2 hours?? I'll wake you up then.."

She looked to Levi then over to his bed with a contemplative sigh. "I-I'll be in the kitchen otherwise.." Levi muttered as a final push.

Eventually a full smile appeared on her lips. "I can't thank you enough Levi. You're so sweet." She stood and Levi's breath caught in his throat as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and then.. her lips were coming down on top of his head.

He felt as though his skin was melting off when she pulled back. "I promise I won't overstay my welcome though. You can kick me out if you think I am."

"I won't" he thought as he stared at her from his seat.

Her boots hit the floor with a soft thunk soon followed by her sweater inching off beautiful shoulders, down her arms and.. Levi looked away but then his curiosity caught him again and he was watching her fold the item and place it on the edge of the bed.

Just relax

It wasn't like he'd never seen a girl take her clothes off. Though maybe Hange didn't quite fit that bill now that he really thought about it. With a soft exhale he felt the tension from his shoulders slowly give and his mind was back on the cooling beef stew in front of him.

He shifted the beef chunks around before taking a cautious bite. Swallowing it down with ease. He'd always loved making this dish, it reminded him of his mom and he'd always pictured her smile when he ate it. But for whatever reason right now he wasn't even slightly focused on the warm meal.

He heard a loud shift across the room, which was probably the third one in a row. And he looked up to hear his name being called. Her voice was so soft, so tender he felt like he'd misheard.

"Come here." She said with an outstretched hand. "Please?"

Levi stood from his spot at the table, pushing the chair in and heading over to her. When he stood in front of her he could see a barely there smile on her face and she blinked up at him before beckoning for him to sit by her legs.

Despite the part of him that was slightly uneasy over being that close he took the spot, boring deep holes into the smooth hard wood.

A couple seconds passed with neither of them saying a word. Then a minute of pure silence flooded the room with uncomfortable reality.

"I hate myself for thinking this way honestly.." She began and Levi twitched. "But I kinda wish I had never dated Jean."

Levi blinked then stole a glance at her. She was staring back and her fingers were intertwined on her stomach.

"I mean.. uggh he's so sweet. Not you sweet but caring and kind and I love that about him. I love him I just.." She let out a harsh breath, sitting up and to Levi's own shock wrapped both arms around his midsection. "I hate him too." She whispered into Levi's neck but he wasn't even registering the words, more focused on trying to breathe.

"Are you ok with this?" She exhaled into his collar.

Levi's fingers dug into the soft bedding, toes curled in his boots, eyes shut tight. He slowly nodded trying his best not to look the way he felt.

"Nooo ok I don't hate him. I hate things about him." She continued "That's normal right? Everyone hates things about people they love."

"Y-yeah." Levi shifted squeezing his legs closer together.

Y/N didn't seem to notice though as she droned on. "How many things though-"

Her hand was moving over his chest. Whether she knew it or not it was slowly cresting over his stomach. Then back up toward his bashing heartbeat. Her leg unabashedly rubbing almost roughly against his.

"Because I hate his attitude and his possessiveness.. but Levi. He was my first serious relationship I can't imagine my life without him.."

Levi's heart dunked. It felt as though it was flopping its way into his small intestine. He peered over at her face where she was rubbing her chin in the crook of his shoulder.

"Why can't it just be simple?"

Levi exhaled, noting how her eyes fluttered when he did so. The way his breath smoothed over her cheeks. And warm scent of her own breath. "I know.. nothing about stuff like this.." He answered honestly

Her body heat pressed slightly firmer into him. "If you did.. would you be simple?" She muttered, pressing her chin back into his collarbone.

"Maybe.."

Why was she so ok with being this close while Levi was practically unconscious inside? She leaned her head against him like she'd done it so many times before. Stared into his eyes and touched his chest.

Her finger came up and he blinked rapidly as she plucked his hair back away from his face. "Well would you love your girlfriend?"

"Y-yes."

"Would you always respect her boundaries?"

"Yeah."

"Would you cling to her? Whine anytime she even breathes around another guy?"

"I.. It might be hard not to immediately be jealous.. but I'd want her to know I trust her."

If it were possible to drown in someone's eyes Levi was doing it right now. For once he knew that what he was seeing wasn't his imagination, her eyes flicking from his own eyes to his lips and back up again.

"You're partially there then." She replied, completely making eye contact again.

"Are you dating Jean again?" Levi asked before his brain had even caught up. "I know Hange said you two might get back together."

She backed away, flopping backwards on the bed. Though her leg remained nuzzled against his. Every bit of his body was screaming for her warmth to return.

She sat herself up on her elbows. "He acts like we are but we aren't."

"What about that kiss?" If he could stop himself from talking he damn sure would.

"Kiss?"

"O-on the balcony.. near the stairs."

Her hands flew to her face. "You say that? Oh god.." He winced as she spoke. "No, Levi.. I'm not.. I mean listen.. He caught me off guard, I wasn't expecting him to do that."

Levi just nodded along.

"I just wish everything was simple.. I wish being with Jean was like being with-"

The pink in her cheeks was unmistakable now. So so very unmistakable. And Levi's heart was definitely almost out of his chest with just how hard and how fast it was beating.

Suddenly every bit of her warmth was disengaging with him. Her legs coming up to curl on the bed as she shifted into a fetal position. Her arm reaching up to yank a pillow over her head. She let out a harsh laugh that made Levi inch away a little.

"Ok! I'm gonna sleep now!" She continued to giggle and Levi took this opportunity to practically yank himself off the bed, heading back to his abandoned bowl of stew.

Though there was definitely no way he was going to eat it now.

~~~~

A barrage of hard knocks sounded that could definitely only be Hange and Levi yanked the door open to allow her and Erwin to assess his room like they were cops.

"She's in here!" Erwin whisper-yelled pointing towards Y/N still curled up now sleeping peacefully with a blanket Levi had put over her.

"You sly dog!" Hange said a bit too loud.

"Shut up."

"Uh?" Erwin gestured

Levi rolled his eyes. "She came to me talking about Jean." He grunted at the mention. "We talked then she fell asleep in my bed."

"And you didn't.." Hange gestured with her hips quickly getting a smack to the shoulder from Erwin.

"Fucking idiot." Levi said with a sigh. "How did you both find out she was here?"

"Connie and Sasha said they couldn't find her and that Jean drove off hours ago and probably wasn't gonna return till later today."

Levi shouldn't have but a sort of pleasant flutter rose in his chest. He almost let his lips upturn catching it way before Erwin and Hange could see.

"Ok.. but why your bed of all places?" Erwin continued to pry.

"She was really tired from last night."

"Yeah she was." Hange guffawed, gestured again getting yet another slap from Erwin. This time she reached out for her shoulder with a wince.

"It wasn't a fun kind of 'last night' Hange." Erwin remarked "So what about this?"

"What about it?"

"Make your move already." He replied

Levi groaned rolling his eyes. "Her heart might only be set on Jean."

"Says the guy who currently has her in his bed." Hange states with a sigh.

Y/N jerked awake when the sound of more loud knocking erupted at Levi's door. Hange quickly moved before anyone else could opening it for a flustered and sleep deprived looking Connie and Sasha.

"Hey!" Sasha called racing across the room.

Hange reached out for Connie's shoulder. "Where does Jean plan on sleeping tonight when he comes back?"

Connie turned. "In our room. We're not all sharing one room but I doubt Y/N's gonna let us hang out for a while."

Once Connie had left earshot Hange turned to Levi with a gigantic smile.

"Shut up already."

"At this point we might as well say nothing Hange." Erwin shrugged with a shake of his head.

Connie sat on the edge of the bed, leaning on Sasha's shoulder as she spoke. "Why'd you come here? Jean left hours ago you could've just slept in your own bed."

"I didn't feel comfortable sleeping in my bed.." She replied, pulling her legs into her chest.

"Just come back tonight. Knowing Jean he'll go to sleep as soon as he gets back to the lodge." Connie replied

"Has he texted you?" Y/N questioned

"No."

"He's driving and he never texts while he's driving."

Y/N nodded feeling a mild pang in her chest as she leaned back on her palms. She slowly blinked the sleep from her eyes with a tiny yawn. Her eyelids soon fluttering open again instantly making contact with Levi who seemed to relax at her soft gaze. She tilted her head with a little smile in his direction.

"Or, maybe you should stay here." Sasha smirked

Y/N snapped her head towards her best friend. "Huh?!"

"What?" Connie blinked at the two girls. Sasha who was now giggling and Y/N who flopped back against the mattress covering her face with both hands.

~~~~

Day seven

"Aren't you bored?"

"No."

"Cold?"

"Extremely.."

"Then why don't you ski with us instead of reading all those boring books?! Can you even properly turn the pages with gloves on?"

"Please go away.."

Levi huffed as Hange kicked her feet back and forth slightly shaking the bench. The sun was slowly starting to diminish for the day and Levi wanted nothing more than to finish this chapter at least. "I'm just keeping you company.. you look lonelier than usual."

"Isn't Moblit skiing today? On his only off day?"

She stared up at the sky, pondering this for a second "Bye Levi!" She said sprinting off.

Levi breathed a sigh of relief, flipping the pages of his book back to where he'd been reading. Easily deemed more difficult with the wool of his dark red gloves.

"Whatcha reading?" The irritating plop of someone seating themselves next to him made him outwardly grit his teeth and he whipped his head over only to completely lose the malice boiling up toward the surface.

She giggled flipping the book in his hand, careful not to lose the page as she did so. "Don't get me wrong Levi." She began, fiddling with her skis. "I know you love books but don't you wanna go skiing at least once while you're up here?"

Levi flipped the book close shaking his head. "Never done it and I'm cold enough sitting here."

She sighed loudly with a little giggle. "I could always teach you." When Levi didn't respond for a few seconds Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall." She winked standing and putting her hand out.

Erwin's advice from their first day here quickly flooded his memory. He stared at her hand with slight confusion and she must have picked up on it cause she retracted it.

"I figured you'd take it." She waved absently with a wild shake of her head. "Come on! One hour. I promise I'll leave you to your books if you hate it."

A bit more contemplation and he nodded. He looked to her as he stood. "So.." He tried

"So?"

"I-"

"Skis! You need skis." She replied awkwardly, pressing her gloved hand against the bridge of her nose. "Sorry.." She grumbled in defeat.

As soon as they'd touched the first bit of fresh powder Levi knew he shouldn't have agreed to this. He flopped around in these awful contraptions before hitting the snow right on his ass. While Y/N tried and failed to surpress a giggle.

"Are you ok?" She heaved, putting both her hands out for him.

This time Levi took them brushing the cold off his backside. "Just fine." He grunted

"You're a beginner so it's ok to struggle." She replied "Maybe you should hold on to me.. you know to be safe.."

When Levi took her arm he felt a burst of currents flowing through every inch of him. Almost too happy for such a normal touch. His foot slipped again and he was quickly glad for her hand that came to steady him.

"Just move with me ok. Skis connecting to stop and spread apart to go." His fingers dug into her jacket and she smiled to him. "Don't be scared ok. I'm gonna do this with you."

"Tch, I'm not scared.."

"Oh? Then I'll bet you'll ace this right off the bat and leave me in the dust."

It was safe to say Levi hated this immediately. The skis slid quickly and the hill they were on only propelled it further. He quickly connected the skis stopping just behind Y/N who'd slipped from his grasp and slowed to a halt turning to look back at him.

"One more time ok?"

He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Cheeks puffed out as he looked at her.

"Please? I'll let you go back to your book after you destroy this hill." She giggled, outstreching her arm.

His gaze softened and he reached a slightly shaky hand out to her. The occasional person raced past them but Y/N kept her gaze on Levi steadily holding his wrist where he was practically jabbing her coat with his fingernails through his gloves.

"That's it." She cooed "You're doing good, not too fast ok."

"Mm." He held her just a little tighter feeling his stomach slowly uncoil.

Without really meaning to he felt the skis slowly start to spread apart and the once really easy, gentle pace quickly became much faster.

"Levi slow down a little.." She warned

He pulled his feet in only to have them slip beneath him at the much quicker speed they were going. He hit the ground hard but didn't stop, dragging Y/N down in his grip. She screamed out Levi's name or so he might have heard but they were practically flying down at this point.

Snow fluttering around them with each tumble and roll. Levi ended up on his back and one of his skis flew off as he grappled around still tumbling with Y/N just behind him. He gasped in air as it flew from his body, coughing and wincing as they continued to fall.

He grunted, reaching out for her with one arm which quickly grabbed her leg to keep her close to him. They hit a snow bank and Levi was quickly recovering his sight just before they both grinded to a halt hitting the bottom of a tree stopping their tumbling.

Y/N was the first to try to sit up instantly crying out. "Ah ah!" She cried "L-Levi.." Came her pained whimpers as she clutched her ankle.

"Your.." He struggled trying his best to properly roll over to her side.

"Levi, I don't think I can get up." She said "You need to go get help.. it's getting dark."

"I can't leave you here.."

"Did you bring your phone?" She tried, blinking over at him.

"No."

"Then you have to go get help while you can still make it."

Levi gritted his teeth but used the tree they were currently resting on to pull his weight up. Helping Y/N to lay her back against the bark. "Which way is it?" He looked down at his feet, wiggling both now skiless shoes around.

When she didn't answer he turned to look at her. Eyes wide as he gazed at her snow covered hair and cheeks. "I-I don't know.."

(Hey Siri, play Ho Hey by The Lumineers)

[aenngelic]

I will protect her at all costs (chapter 2)

Disclaimer: please don’t hate me for it, if you don’t ship them please just don’t read it ok 🥲

contains: slow burn, Sniper falling in love with Kuon, Snipers view/thoughts, sexual fantasies, nudity, lemon stuff overall

It is a very long chapter I’m sorry

Note: please feel free to message me if you have certain romantic moments to include in the story! (Already running out of ideas oops)

It did not take long for us to find a bag of supplies. It was on a coffee table in some sort of lobby area. It seemed as if this building probably was meant to represent some kind of hotel, which I thought was a good thing, because that meant that there would be beds and showers to be found here as well. To our surprise, the bag contained mostly candy, which I wouldn't interpret as a balanced meal. However, the girl seemed to like this finding. It was only a matter of minutes before the chocolate residue stained the corners of my companion's mouth in a brown color. However, I preferred to smoke a cigarette at first and watch the girl devour her own body weight in the form of chocolate.

" This is fantastic! It feels like forever since I last ate chocolate! I faintly remember dieting before I entered this world too, so this must have been probably weeks since I held chocolate in my hand." Kuon said with delight. It was amusing to watch her enjoy sweets. Kuon's carelessness may be a burden at times, but her innocent character makes up for it.

" you partly remember your life prior to this, don't you?"

" Yes, not much to be honest. I'm sorry you can't," Kuon replied in a concerned voice.

"Tell me about it."

She gave me a visibly puzzled look before straightening her back so that she was sitting as straight as a candle on the sofa across from me, staring at her hands somewhat lost in thought. She seemed uncomfortable that I had now brought up this topic. Unfortunately, I could not take back my question. "Well," she began, "to be honest,the life I remember has not been the greatest, I guess." Kuon abruptly shook her head. " That's not true either. I was born into a rich family and had many privileges. My father owned a large company and had very high expectations of me from the very beginning. One day I was supposed to take it over. I was probably pretty lucky compared to other people. I was probably a big disappointment for him. My character was just not strong enough in his eyes. I also remember not really having any friends either, because I was privately educated. And anyway..." I could literally hear the lump in Kuon's throat as a tear began to stream down the girl's cheek.

" i'm sorry. You know, I didn't really mean to end up crying."

I felt my heart break once again, watching the girl grieve. I was surprised now, though, to find out that this yet seemingly uncomplicated high school student was actually carrying a lot of emotional baggage. I did not hesitate as I jumped up from my seat to calm the blue-haired girl. I really hated it like the plague when she cried. Trying to preserve my Coolness, however, I grumbled, "oh girl. What's wrong?"

I placed myself to her left, and pressed her against my shoulder while running my hand over her hair a few times. There was no way I could bring myself to face her, though. It would be too embarrassing and, after all, I was far from being the Prince Charming who would dry her tears with a silken tissue. Besides, I could not withstand the sight of her teary eyes. So there I sat, a weeping teenage girl wetting my blazer with salty drops of grief on my right, awkwardly staring off into the distance.

"It's, it's..." she stammered, not being able to form a word. "You're the first person I've been able to trust, and because of that, I'm kind of..."

She took a deep breath, "It makes me so unbelievably happy."

Almost for the second time that day, a cigarette nearly got stuck in my throat, but this time I was able to suppress my urge to cough. The girl seemed to really like me. But did I like her too? I would be lying if I said I did not care about her. And if she got killed, I could never forgive myself. It was astonishing how one could form such a strong bond with another person in such a short period of time. However, pouring out my entire feelings in front of her would not come close to the cool lifestyle I was pursuing.

" i'm also happy to have met you, Kuon.", i finally decided to answer after a moment of figuring out how to respond.

Kuon's face, which was still streaked with tears, started to smile again, which made me feel much relieved. However, it took her a while to completely stop her wailing . We remained in this position for a while, until at some point I realized that the girl had fallen asleep. Her head had lowered in the meantime even further toward the ground, so that after some time she was no longer leaning against my shoulder but much rather against my belly. When I noticed this after some time and looked down to the girl, a cute sight presented itself to me. Admittedly, on the one hand it felt nice to act as this girl's pillow. On the other hand, it triggered an immeasurable amount of embarrassment in me. But cool guys do like to take care of girls' comfort, don't they?

Therefore, I decided I'd rather not wake her up and hardly moved at all. I looked out the window to my right, watching the sunset and reflected on certain issues. I was thinking about Rika as well as the two girls we were trying to find and, of course, about Kuon and so many other things until my eyes started to close.

When I regained consciousness, the night must have settled in. Before I could even perceive my surroundings properly, I swiveled my head once to the left and once to the right and let my gaze wander through the room. Because the moon was particularly bright this night, everything around me had taken on a deep blue tone. It was so quiet around me that I could have heard a pin drop. In the next second I realized that I should not have fallen asleep in the first place. Somebody would have had to keep watch, after all! Crap! If an enemy would have come along the way, it certainly would not have been good for me and Kuon. I looked down to my thigh where the blue-haired girl was supposed to lie. I felt her place her head on my thigh at some point during the night, but when I looked down at my thigh, I could not find any girl. Where the hell was Kuon? A rational thinking person, as I was one, could of course assume that my companion did not necessarily have to be in danger, but could also have simply visited the toilet, for example. Nonetheless, my alarm bells started ringing immediately. Kuon was, after all, a young girl who, apart from the "rail gun", did not posses many possibilities for self-defense. So of course I was worried.

Without thinking much, I hopped up from the sofa, on which I had been napping a few moments before. In quick stride I wandered through the poorly lit hallway without really having a clue where I was heading. My head was foggy from the idea that the girl might be in serious danger. A few days ago, I probably would have accepted the fact that she was suddenly nowhere to be found and continued my journey. And now my stomach was already twisting at the thought of her getting in trouble.

Nevertheless, a short moment later, my heart pounding madly from the ever-repeating scenario in my head, I heard a noise at the end of the corridor. A soft, high-pitched humming was heard, drowned out by the pattering of many drops. Light emerged from the crack of a door on the left. Was she taking a shower? The feeling of relief spread through my chest, followed by some degree of annoyance. Why did the girl not wake me up? I took a few steps towards the door, but before I was about to reach for the door handle, I remembered that I should not do so. A gentleman never violates a lady's privacy. So I decided to wait.

I leaned against the local wall, one leg bent. Then I let my thoughts wander, while the pattering of the raindrops in the bathroom right next to me showed no indication of stopping anytime soon. A lady of high society must spend quite a bit of her life showering, I thought to myself. And before I knew it, the image of Kuon suddenly popped up in my head. In my imagination I pictured her body, wondering what it looked like completely naked. A bar of soap running over her plump breasts, leaving traces of foam on her soft, wet skin. A body swinging under the hot rainfall like a leaf in the wind, presenting its vivid buttocks. I wonder if she was shaved? Hardly had I been able to finish this dirty thought of mine and get mad at my filthy thinking when my ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the distance. And they were coming ominously closer.

Damn, I thought to myself and was about to reach for my rifle, only to realize that I forgot it next to the sofa where I had been sleeping. I had been so upset about her disappearance that I could seriously forget the most crucial item for our survival.What was I going to do? For a brief moment I was at a loss. Escape proved almost impossible at this point, since I was at a dead end and I could not force the approaching enemy down with any surrounding objects. Besides, if I escaped, it would only be a matter of time before the enemy would track down my helpless companion. In the next moment, almost instinctively, I reached for the door handle that led to the bathroom that Kuon had still claimed. Perhaps there were objects in the room that were suitable for fighting, or perhaps we could be lucky and not be found, I speculated in the heat of the moment. So I tore open the door and rushed into the bathroom, greeted by a hot haze that took over the entire area.

"Kuon!" I called out in a hushed tone.

Without hesitation, I pushed my way through the door that separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom as if I was walking through nothing. Until that moment, I had hardly given a thought to the circumstances of this situation. But at the latest, when finally the naked body of a schoolgirl jumped into my field of vision, I quickly realized this again. I was just about to violate Kuon's privacy. An obviously shocked girl looked towards me, that from 1 second to the other tried to cover herself desperately.

"Mr.Ma-", she was about to say, but I interrupted her raised voice by pressing my hand to her lips as quickly as possible.

While I was still in the act of stepping into the shower, I flicked the light switch in the same movement so that no sign of our presence could escape from the room. Maybe they would not find us here, I hoped at this point.

"There's someone out there," I whispered to the naked girl in front of me.

" if we are quiet, maybe we won't be found. If we are, then..."

Kuon replied to me with an unintelligible "Mmm" , which resembled the sound of a frightened gasp. My body had pressed so close to hers by now that I could feel the wetness of her skin soaking through my shirt. I had directed my face facing away from her so that I could sharpen my hearing for the footsteps I could hear. Furthermore , I did not want to add unnecessary tension to the whole situation. It was uncool enough to interfere with a naked girl taking a shower even if it was an emergency. My hand was still resting on her lips and even though I was wearing gloves and looking away, I could clearly feel the warmth building up in Kuon's cheeks. She was obviously blushing in this moment. But having her pressed against the bathroom wall while forcing my hand tightly onto her lips and not even keeping a distance of not 2 inches, I could not blame her.

For quite a while, we did not move at all. We listened closely to the footsteps, which came a little closer and finally slowly moved away from us again. Temporarily it was even so quiet in this bathroom that we could hear each other breathing. Kuon's breathing was fast and almost verged on hyperventilation in this situation. Because there was hardly any distance between our bodies, I could literally feel her chest rising and falling in short intervals. With each rise, her breasts brushed my upper body a slight bit. I tried, as always, to keep my composure and block out the fact that Kuon was completely naked. Only when several minutes had passed did my posture loosen and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, we should be safe for now," I stated and let go of the girl.

I flipped the light switch and had to swallow.

Kuon had been naked before too, but it was only now that the danger was gone that I could really comprehend this fact. She had tried to cover her breasts with her hands and had simultaneously crossed her legs, looking down with a shameful expression on her face. However, the concealment attempt seemed to be unsuccessful for her. Although I only caught a glimpse of her appearance before I turned away from her as quickly as possible, I saw her entire beauty for a moment.Her breasts were in relation to her otherwise so petite body, large and plump. She had a narrow waist and perfectly shaped legs, in combination with her smooth, fair skin. And so she shaved, I could still tell. What remained most imprinted on my mind, however, was the look on her face.I of course preferred to see her friendly smile a thousand times more than this face that expressed pure shame. But I could not help but adore the sight of her big sparkling dog eyes looking at the ground helplessly.

My breath stopped for a moment, but then I quickly cleared my throat, my gaze already averted from her, scanning the room for a towel. I tried to hide the fact that I actually wanted to slap myself for the thoughts I was having. Luckily, my embarrassment was not visible through the mask. I had to change the subject immediately before the situation became even more awkward:

"Sorry, Kuon." , I mumbled. I was surprised myself by my harsh tone. It took me a while to recollect the words.

"You should let me know next time you decide to go somewhere else."

"Oh yeah right. I didn't mean to cause any trouble.", Countered the girl who also seemed to be a bit embarrassed. So it wasn't just me who was feeling uncomfortable about this situation. Without giving my companion another look, I threw a towel right over my head at her. I had a precise aim.

" I'm going to get my rifle. I forgot it in all the hurry near the sofa."

Just as I was about to open the door to step out, the girl interrupted my process by grabbing my arm with unusual intensity.

" can you come back here afterwards? Please?"

"That's what I was planning on doing anyway. I'll be waiting right outside the door," I replied, a bit puzzled by this question.

" but I have -." she interrupted herself, shaking her head slightly before continuing.

Then her facial expression regained its former composure, whereupon she gave me her typical, beaming smile. I could tell, however, that she did not mean it honestly. How I could tell that, I had no idea myself though. But did she want me to stay here with her?

" no you're right. I'll hurry up and be done in a few minutes," she said. While she was talking, she wrapped the towel around her body in a quick movement, fastening it in front with the help of a knot.

I had meanwhile turned my gaze back to her. Although Kuon was now dressed, it was difficult for me not to inspect her from top to bottom. Her entire body was still drenched in a hint of wetness, so that her skin was reflectingthe bright bathroom light. It was also slightly red from the hot shower water. I wondered if the red tint to her cheeks was also caused by that, or if I was responsible for it.I could not help but notice the way the towel just managed to hide all the places it was supposed to cover and yet was far too tight. If she bent over, a special view would present itself to me. Immediately I dashed this disgusting thought from my head. If I continued to reduce myself only to her appearance this could end in negligence on my part and I would not be able to protect her properly.After all, that was the most important thing. I also discarded this thought. Had this strange girl really become so important to me? Nevertheless, there was no place for interpersonal relationships in this world.Before I could get any further into this train of thought, I turned away again and finally walked out of the room. I was in need of a cigarette.

[allegra-writes]

"TKN"

Peter Parker x Anti-hero!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Part XIII of the "Mercy" Series

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

"Secrets only to those you can trust.

You better not break the Omerta..."

TKN - Rosalia f. Travis Scott

72 hours. That's how long you and Peter had been on the run. And in those 72 hours, Peter had gone through more new experiences than in a whole year as an avenger: He had joined the mile high club, only to five minutes later jump from said plane at cruise speed. He had illegally entered a country, broke into a department store and even shaved his whole head to completely change his appearance. He had celebrated his and yours new freedom with sangria, and more lovemaking at the beach under the stars... 

But this? Being held at gunpoint by a tiny girl with murder in her eyes and superhuman reflexes? That was, sadly, nothing new. 

It was like watching a dance, the way your high kick sent the gun in her left hand flying, as the blonde rolled out of your reach too fast for you to get a hold of the other gun on her right. You avoided a punch to your midriff, as she jumped away from your knife. And your boyfriend saw, helpless, as it was shot out of your hand by a bullet fired with millimetric precision to its blade. But he had been instructed under no uncertain terms to stay out of the confrontation, and by now he knew better than to disobey you. 

"Don't you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight?" The girl quipped, heavy ucranian accent lacing her words.

You smirked,

"They only say that cause a knife is only as good as the one who wields it, тетя Lena… Are you sure you're better with a gun than I am with a knife?"

She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, knowing full well you had several more sharp weapons hidden in your body. 

"Ты менг раздржаешь... So," Lena inquired, eyeing Peter up and down, "Who's the boy toy?"

Your smirk intensified, a barely there twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of your fingers, was all the signal your boyfriend needed,

"His name is Peter," A web shooter went off, and Lena found herself suddenly unarmed "and he's not a boy toy" 

"No, he's an avenger" She spat the word like an insult, "You know the rules, Likho. We don't fuck with strangers"

"And we only share secrets with those we can trust" You finished for her, "I trust him, Lena" 

She huffed, still sizing him up, but you could see a new glint of curiosity, if not respect, in her emerald eyes. 

After a minute, she finally relaxed, dropping her defensive stance. Without another word, she turned away from you, opening a cabinet, taking out three glasses and a bottle of vodka. 

"What's the story, then?" She began pouring the drinks, "I assume there is a story there, last time I saw you, you wanted to kill the avengers. Now here you are, with one as a pet…"

"I'm not- I'm not a…" Peter stammered his protest, "I'm not a pet" 

"Then why are you trailing after her like a lost puppy?" 

"Lena," Your tone was warning, as you grabbed your glass "play nice"

She rolled her eyes again,

"You sound just like your mother. The blonde widow made a face, downing her drink in one gulp, only to immediately refill it, "I miss her"

"Yeah" you sighed, "me too…" 

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably next to you.

"Everything ok, Peter?"

Your boyfriend hesitated: His spider sense was still on high alert, but he couldn't really tell if it was because of the assassin, or another threat you were unaware of.

He decided to play it down for the moment.

"Yeah just… don't want to be rude or anything but I'm not really the vodka type"

"I guessed that already, Spider-Boy. Is why I didn't pour you one…"

"Then who's that one for?" He questioned pointing at the third one.

"That would be for me" 

You looked up, your face breaking into the biggest grin Peter had ever seen on you at the sound of the new voice.

"Alex!" 

A pang of jealousy hit him, as he watched you throw yourself into the arms of the tall, handsome stranger.

Because this Alex guy was handsome, there was no denying that: Bright hazel eyes on top of the sharpest cheekbones Peter had ever seen, pale face framed by dark, shiny long tresses almost to his shoulders.

"Nice hair" You teased, running your fingers through his luscious locks and Peter had the sudden impulse to stick bubble gum to them like Flash had done to him once, back in junior year. He self consciously rubbed his own head, too aware of his buzzcut.

"Nice bangs," the Alex guy shot back, messing your hair like one would to a little child, "you look like a schoolgirl" 

That earned him a rather painful looking punch to his shoulder.

"Punch like a girl too"

"Train a little harder and you will too" You winked. Peter cleared his throat. "Right, of course. Alex, this is Peter. Peter, this is Alex" 

They shook hands, Peter impulsively squeezing a little too hard for a human. But the skinnier boy simply smiled a wolfish grin, all sharp white teeth, returning the grip with just as much strength. 

"Welcome to the spiders' den, Peter"

…

An hour later found the four of you satiated and relaxed, amongst empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. 

"... So, there we were, completely surrounded by both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, that were actually also Hydra agents, outnumbered and without any exit points in sight" Lena was retelling, Alex nodding enthusiastically beside her as he chew yet another slice of pepperoni, "So I reach inside my boot for my hidden glock, smirky hydra son of a bitch goes 'You looking for this, blondie?' Shaking my knife in front of my face…"

You fidget uncomfortably next to Peter, his eyes going from your beet red face to an Alex that seemed to be choking.

"And that little brat" she pointed at you, "Barbie pajamas, ice cream cone in one hand, my fucking gun in the other goes 'No, fart knocker, she was looking for this'" 

Alex finally snorted, little crumbs escaping his mouth and hitting you in the face as he started coughing. You wiped your face with as much dignity as you could muster.

"You're just salty because a nine year old saved your ass" 

"A sick nine year old" Alex managed to get out between barks, "With pink eye, she could only see with one eye. And using just one hand. Is why we call her Likho ever since" 

"Wait, you still had your ice cream?" 

"She never let go of that ice cream" Lena replied to the question Peter had directed at you, and you felt the temperature of your cheeks rise even more. 

"Literally single handedly took out 7 agents" Alex added, "and then demanded another scoop" 

All three of your companions dissolved in laughter, as you felt your stomach churn. Alex wouldn't look back on that particular memory with such fond eyes if he knew what that little incident had initiated, how it had snowballed until the consequences had reached a girl on the other side of the world, another red room experiment, just like you. 

They said a butterfly flapping its wings here can cause a typhoon in China. Well, your hurricane had levelled Ava Orlova's life.

You weren't one for guilt. Guilt had no place in survival. You did what had to be done in order to preserve yourself and your freedom. Just like your mother had taught you. Just like she had done. But being with Peter, loving Peter… well, that was having unforeseen consequences too, as you were coming to realize. 

Because now you understood. Now you understood Alex and Ava's bond, because Alex had felt for Ava the same way you did for Peter. Probably still did, since it was with trepidation that you realized his death probably wouldn't change your feelings for peter. 

After all, your own hadn't. 

"What about you, spider-boy? Any embarrassing stories to share?"

Peter smiled, for a minute forgetting where he was or why he was there,

"Actually, I do. It involves a barn, an overly friendly goat and hay in places hay should never…" He trailed off, his smile falling when he saw the look on your face.

"No! Why did you stop? That sounds like a great story!"

"Yeah, you got me at 'overly friendly goat'!"

Peter simply interlocked his fingers with yours, silently offering his support. It was time. You took a deep breath

"Because it wouldn't be fair to tell you a story that I don't remember" 

Silence fell over the small kitchen, as Lena and Alex processed your words, the later being the first to break it,

"S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"The T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol" you confirmed. He leaned back on his chair, chuckling, but there was no humor behind it.

"Well, well, well… ain't karma a bitch" 

"Alexei," Lena's tone was warning, "that was the Blank Slate project. You can't blame Likho for what Natasha did"

"Can't I? Really? Cause in over twenty years, our sister never cared about my 'trauma', but we find out about her" He pointed, accusingly, "and suddenly she is all about giving us a normal life. As if we could ever be normal. As if new memories could erase the Red Room from our bones"

"Alex…" You tried, weakly, but you didn't know what to say. Not when everything he was saying was true. 

"And now what? You want me to help you break through it? Now you need us to get back the memories they took from you, just like your mother stole memories from us?" 

"Alexei!"

"NO, YELENA!" Three figures automatically jumped into a fighting stance when his fist met the table. Alex closed his eyes, attempting to get his breathing, and his emotions, back under control. 

"If you want to help these Avengers, go ahead" He finally said, eyes fixed on his sister's, "but don't expect me to be a part of this." 

Without another word, he got up and left the room, leaving Yelena to pick the pieces of the broken bottle that had rolled off the table. And you, to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. 

"Shhh, it's ok, y/n" Peter, sweet, loyal Peter, tried to envelope you in his arms when he heard the first sob leave your throat, even if he didn't quite understand why it had hurt you so much to be called an Avenger. But Lena was there in a heartbeat, throwing him a dirty look, and taking your face in her hands to force you to look at her instead. 

"Don't listen to him, Likho. You're not an Avenger, you are a widow. You will always be a widow, and always will be a part of this family. Just like your mother."

You nodded, buring your face on your aunt's shoulder. 

"I'll help you, both of you" Yelena declared, eyes meeting Peter's, "Us spiders ought to take care of each other" 

To be continued… 

[shyrose57]

2nd part than.

8: (This ones longgggg) Their rooms all have the same beige (like brown mushroom color) walls and floors. As their not allowed to change that. But Watson has some bookshelves in his room along with a old adventurer cape that goes in front of his body and hangs to his ankles (Item-Ya Adventurer Cape is a perfect example. Idk the actual name for the kind of cape it is), some display cases featuring his strongest bows and arrows, along with a sword and axe, along with pictures of the group toghere and pictures from his travels on the walls, he has a single lone desk that is only used when designing new bows or arrows. Ran also has bookshelves, but his is bigger and takes up a whole wall, he also as a winter cape with fur on its shoulders hung up (he lived in a snow biome for a little while and made the cape himself), along with a single weapon case that features a lone damaged neitherite sword, he also has chests stacked along a wall filled with random stuff that he sometimes gives as gifts or uses to throw at people. Jackie has a few paintings and posters in his room, along with the only carpet in any bedroom (that he totally didnt steal from Grievous), a panting easel, he has a single display case in his room that displays the sword Porkius gave him for winning, theres also pictures of the group toghere and a small chest next to his bed filled with things that belongs to someone in the group. Grievous has a small bookshelf (one book is a naming book Watson jokingly gave him), a chest filled to the brim with blankets and pillows (cause for him comfort is a necessity), he also has a desk that he tends to fall asleep at when doing literally anything on it. Everyone also has a good sized wardrobe somewhere in their room that is filled with different outfits and w statue stands with either iron armour or empty. There is also a four-way-bunkbed in the living room/area, they typically use it when someone is having or had a very bad day and needs comfort, or when Jackie's separation anxiety is bad and needs to sleep with everyone nearby. 

Ran loves reading and sometimes gets mad when someone intrupts his reading. Watson loves designing new bows and arrows and just designing weapons in general (Grievous does too and helps him sometimes). Jackie likes to paint and has a interest in adventuring one day. They are well known but only in Subbin and surrounding cities. Though word does travel about them at times which can bring people to Subbin. They have 2 titles actually! First is used in typical matches, while the second is used in more formal or serious matches (like those for general). Ran: The Enderman, Partikel Tari (Dancing Particles, referencing how when he fights when serious its like he's dancing as he teleports around the field). Watson: The Archer, Multi (Referencing how he has more experience than anyone in the use of all kinds of weapons and can quickly adjust to situations). Grievous: Multi-Named, Unpredictable (referring to how he is by far the most unpredictable person in serious battles). Jackie: The Child, Diremehake (Underestimated, referring to how he gets underestimated a lot during any battle). They get recognized quite often and get called their stage names, when they dont want to deal with people recognizing them they often either yell at them to go away or just run away. 

9: They do all of the above! It depends on the match up (Jackie and Watson stay out of eachothers way mostly, Ran and Grievous make it one on one, and Ran and Jackie take them out quick). Oh the first time Ran threw Jackie was hailours. You could hear Watson screaming from the stands in fear and Jackie just head-butted the guy in the stomach. Then when Jackie recovered he just yelled for Ran to throw him again, and once again you could hear Watson screaming no and threats at them from the stands. Ran agreed and threw Jackie at the last person, who he just bear hugged as he hit and held them down. Then after the battle Watson smacked the two and chastised them.

10: At first he drops stuff and trips over his feet on a regular basis. But after about 3 weeks he fully regains his balance, and is able to finally walk without tripping at the start. While the attempts at bonding do work to get Ranbob and Cletus closer the two never get as close as the rest. Neither can really name what's stopping them from getting closer though. For the first week people need to constantly remind Ranbob to do all of those things. As he thinks the constant hunger, thirst, and tiredness is all normal when its not and their trying to get him to understand that. And while he eventually starts to do it himself, theres still some nights where he doesnt eat or drink or sleep. They just leave the two in the house, but later they do start to expand the house a bit to fit the new addition. He does not get his own place up, he just gives up after some time. He doesn't fall asleep out there to often thankfully, but since the house keeps falling on him he does get cuts and bruises quite often. He gets stuck in a rain storm only 2 times which isn't bad, but he does get semi-bad burns from them sadly that Benjamin has to sit him down for and have Charles distract him for long enough to wrap his wounds properly. And it only took Benjamin like 4 weeks before he finally got fed up and forced him inside and had him stay with them. He has dealt with a storm before when he was young! But it was when he was about 12 so its been a long while. 

11: He spends all of his free time glaring at them. And for the first few days whenever he sees someone from his group hanging around his brothers, he'll go over and pick em up and just carry them away. The fishermen worry for a bit that Ran may hurt them, but Watson assured them that Ran knows the two groups like eachother and wouldn't hurt them incase that could hurt his families feelings. 

12: Ranbob is extremely happy about potentially getting new members of his family! And eagerly tries to talk with them. But Ran is far less happy and actively avoids them (and drags his family away at times).

13: At the start they have no idea where their going. But when Grievous brings up about Rans damaged sword they decide to find a nether portal so they can find whats needed to repair his sword! And Watson decides on the way he can show them all the different biomes in the world, which Jackie is extremely excited for. 

14: If the fishermen get separated from Ranbob for too long he actively goes and searches for them. And refuses to stop until he finds them. When upset Ran loves to pick up members of his Haunting, though he doesnt do them often as he knows his Haunting doesn't like it when he does it to often. He and Ranbob also pick up blocks though as it's a comfort action and soothes them. Cuddles piles do happen! They happen more for Ranbob to comfort him after a nightmare or just a bad day, or when he basically relapses and wants to go back to Dream. But cuddle piles are more rare in Rans group, as cuddle piles only happen when anyone is doing really badly mentally or physically and just need comfort, or when they all just need some comfort. But their much more sentimental and have more meaning than Ranbobs groups. 

15: Oh definitely. I forget if I included it when I first introduced my Au. But soon after Ran escaped Mizu, he was hunted for his pearl and respawn ability. Though he killed the people hunting him. Every year he was out of Mizu and every year before he entered Subbin he was hunted by multiple groups. He's become legend just for avoiding so many groups and killing a vast majority of them. He's known as the "Green Eyed Enderman." and is a top goal amongst hunters. There are some times Ran got jumped in Subbin for being a hybrid but he quickly defeated them. 

Karl has played his role in this! Though maybe I could make it so he comes in later on during a really difficult part between the  brothers, and helps out. Using his own experiences in the SMP and seeing what ruined relationships like brothers does to someone and others, to make sure their relationship doesn't stay so broken and hurt so many people. Maybe at the end I'll have them go back and face Dream so Ranbob (and even Ran slightly, with how Dreams presence affected him) can finally be completely free. As of rn no one has a pet. But that question made me really want to give someone a raven and idk who. I want to have bits of the other Tales in it! Im not quite sure how yet but I want this to be a mostly Tales ONLY au (no main SMP stuff unless needed or necessary) as the Tales don't have enough love. He does write down the experience he had with the Dream Experience and writes down very important things, but other than that he leaves it behind. 

Im really happy to hear that you like my au. I love world and story building a lot and can't control how much I write sometimes, again im sorry this is so long and I'll do my best to not make anything this long ever again. Sorry if this bothered you

8: Sounds pretty interesting, overall. Was Watson-as his cape suggest-perhaps an adventurer? And he designs his own bows and arrows? Very cool. What kind of things does he come up with?  Ran also sounds like he’s traveled a bit. He knows how to sew? Has he ever made anything for anyone else? Where did he get his sword? Jackie’s got a carpet? Very nice, he deserves it. And a painting easel? How good is he at painting? Or is it more of something he’s just trying? Grievous sounds like he could build a very good pillow fort, and honestly, good for him. How often do they camp out in the bunk bed room? 

Ran not liking being interrupted is understandable. Does he ever read to anyone, or is it more some alone time for him? Grievous and Watson must design some terrifying weapons. Where is Jackie looking at adventuring to? Anywhere specific, or just around? And what language(s) is Ran and Jackie’s secondary titles in? Latin? 

9: Very smart of them, means it’ll be harder to pick up a pattern. And hearing about Ran tossing Jackie-I’m laughing. I’m not going to lie, kind of assumed it was planned pre-match, but hearing that they just decided to throw him? Watson’s reaction? Just...hilarious. Was Jackie even prepared for it, or did Ran just toss them without warning? Honestly, it kind of sounds like people might come to the Pit for the comedy just as much for the fighting. If this was the kind of thing that went down, I’d probably come to watch.

10: Oh no, Ranbob! At least he’s getting better. So Cletus and Ranbob never quite click, huh? Well, that’s alright. Sometimes people just don’t. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other! Ranbob thinking it’s normal, oh god. Does he ever say something along those lines, or get confused why the others are so worried about it? If so, how do the fishermen react to that question, and how does Ranbob react to the answer. As for the house, well. He can say he tried if nothing else-and hey, funny story to share with the gladiators later on. It’s good that he wasn’t caught in too many storms, less that he was caught in some at all. I’m sure that was a big help in convincing Benjamin to finally just put his foot down, which, honestly good for him. You go, Benjamin!

11: Ran, bud, chill. I like how you said his free time though-my first thought was that he immediately finished a book and went over to glare at them. Probably not true, but a hilarious mental image. Very glad Watson has reassured the fishermen-how did Ranbob react to that worry of theirs?

12: Ran’s actions are pretty understandable, but still a bit sad. How does Ranbob feel about them? Is he resigned? Determined? Upset?

13: Adventure! Into possibly dangerous places! How fun! Can’t wait to see where it goes. What do they see? What’s the first stop? How long are they heading off?

14: He won’t stop? Like, potentially will work himself into the ground won’t stop? Ran just picks up his members like blocks. And, oh boy. Ranbob wanting to go back to Dream? That’s just. Oof. Very much oof. How do the fishermen deal with that, and how do they feel about it?

15: Ran sounds like he’s had a less than enjoyable time out there. Do these hunters ever go after them once they leave Subbin? Do they target Ranbob? I mean, he’s another Endermen hybrid, and one who definitely isn’t as skilled as Ran, or as used to them. He’d be a much easier target.

So Karl’s gonna come in towards the end. Nice. Ran was also affected by Dream? How so? Obviously less than his brother, but did he ever notice? Did Ranbob? Sounds like it’d be a good final showdown, over all.

As for that pet raven, may I offer some suggestions? You could give one to Jackie and Grievous, so it can help them cause havoc, or maybe one to Benjamin, so it can help him keep an eye on his dorks. Maybe even Cletus, to help snag things, and mess with people, or Isaac, maybe to help find things. Even Watson, or one of the brothers, to help keep watch over their groups. Really, you could give any of these guys a raven. Depending on said bird’s personality, it could fit anywhere. Just depends on what you want to do with it.

I completely agree with you, we need more Tales AUs. Ranbob and Ran did come from what was basically a city of historians, perhaps you could use that to tie in the other Tales? Or even have them across the old ruins of areas on their adventure. Even chunk in more time travel, via Karl or otherwise, if you want to toss in more characters.

Ranbob pretty much starts over then. Good for him. How does Ran feel about that? Actually, who was Ran’s idol, and his general life on Mizu, before the Dream incident?

Other questions:

One thing I’d like to know is how the groups react to each other’s experiences and general life styles. Like for one, Ranbob and the fishermen generally seem more physically affectionate with each other, while Ran and the gladiators seem fairly less so, but no less close. 

For another, the fishermen probably still remind Ranbob to eat or sleep, which would probably seem a bit confusing for the gladiators. How much do they know about both sides? Obviously enough for them to want to help get the brothers back together, but like.

How much do the gladiators believe Ranbob’s side. Are they wary, or skeptical, or do they believe it completely, and if so, why? 

How long was Ran left running, evading hunters, and how has that affected him? How many times do both brothers say something concerning, and how do they react to what the other says?

You’ve said Ranbob occasionally relapses and wants to return to Dream. Does this happen on the trip? And if so, how do the gladiators react to such a thing-depending on how much they know about the whole thing, I can imagine mixed reactions. How does Ran react?

How do both groups react to the new endermen hybrids? They seem to have dealt with different instincts before now, so seeing Ranbob trail the fishermen and Ran just pick up the gladiators must be a bit strange. 

What can Ranbob keep down? Not only was Dream in control, and not particularly careful with his body, but supplies were probably also somewhat limited when he did eat. So how has that affected him? 

Are there any nicknames within in the groups? How do the gladiators react to the schedule change, considering they had set times for so much before? How do the fishermen react to the new areas? What habits are/become shared, and what habits are restricted to one group.

In general, just...how the fishermen and the gladiators differ in lifestyles, basically. 

For another, in one of the earlier post, you mentioned both Isaac and Cletus wanted to return to Mizu. Isaac kind of gives me a historian vibe himself, or some sort of archaeologists. Just a kind of person who wants to learn about history-perhaps something to do with the fact that he was played by Karl, and the whole time traveler thing. 

But anyway, what exactly did those two want to do down there? Explore, learn, steal?

And how would you say everyone’s personalities are like? Will you be introducing anymore characters, Tales or otherwise. It’d be interesting to see a Pit version of Tommy, or Puffy, or such.

How does Ran react when he finally accepts the truth, and what exactly pushes him to that? 

Hope this isn’t too many questions. I’m pretty invested, not gonna lie.

And seriously, I don’t mind the length. Long or short, I’m really just happy to hear more about your AU, and I look forward to more.

[julilihatfun]

Prompty prompt: Geralt is really struggling in a battle and Jaskier can't just stand by and watch anymore, so he goes up there and kinda saves Geralt, giving him the chance to finally kill the monster...BUT Jaskier is hurt in the process which he doesn't want to admit, being the hero for the first time. He hides it until he just passes out and Geralt takes care of him, mad at himself for letting the bard get hurt, but also thankful. Sorry it's not very original, but hope you like it!

Prompt request: Jaskier hits his head and is concussed and ends up moody, disoriented, and uncoordinated, maybe a bit nauseous, but Geralt never saw him hit his head and has to find out through a careful insoection when he realizes his travelling companion is acting strangely. 

Hey guys - sorry for disappearing for a while :( Everything is just really overwhelming at the moment and well :((( but I hope you enjoy this and I really hope, that you are safe and well!!! (I combined two prompts for this, because it kind of seemed fitting)

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

Jaskier watched Geralt fight – at first, in awe (as always, because honestly: how can one fight so ferociously while looking that graceful), but then in concern, because the Witcher seemed to be in trouble. And that was something that Jaskier had never seen before.

The giant creature loomed over Geralts head – all bloodthirsty and monster-like – while Geralt frantically scrambled away from it and towards the heavy iron sword that had been smacked away from him a few moments earlier.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier screamed and he sounded hysterical and panicked, but he did not care at all. This was a literal nightmare come to life. 

“Stay down!”, Geralt roared, not even looking at the bard, because he was too busy dodging attack after attack.

And it did not look like the beast was getting tired. Which, in turn, meant, that staying down was not an option if he wanted Geralt to actually survive this shit.

He did not even have to think about it then – just jumped up and out of his hiding place with a loud, screechy screaming noise, that kind of betrayed his fear, and stumbled towards the fight.

He seemed to be much less interesting than Geralt (highly offensive, if you asked him – he did not wear those ridiculously colourful outfits to be ignored like this), because the huge thing did not even take one eye away from Geralts prone form.

Geralt screamed at him to ‘get the fuck back’, while Jaskier searched the forest ground for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. He had to be fast, because Geralt seemed to come no closer to gaining back control over the fight.

“Aha!”, he cheered, when he finally found something that could work.

And throwing a stone at the creature really did seem to finally do the trick, because it suddenly turned on Jaskier in an alarming speed.

“Oi!”, Jaskier bellowed, tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away faster. “Stop.”

He was not fast enough, of course, because he felt the thing yank his feet out from under him, making him fall hard. His head was catapulted forward in a sickening motion and bounced off of the moist ground, which definitely hurt a lot.

Jaskier turned around, seeing stars dance around his vision, just in time to see Geralt (who apparently was much faster than Jaskier) bring his sword down on the beast’s neck, effectively separating its ugly head from its massive body.

Jaskier barely had enough time to roll away when the thing started falling towards him and felt the ground shake beneath him, when the monsters mutilated form came down right next to him.

He stared at the beast for a long moment in silent wonder, then his gaze swept to Geralt, who was already staring at him.

“I take partial credit for this one.”, he said then, shakily, moving to pull himself up on a nearby tree.

Geralt huffed, still eying him grimly. He growled out a clipped: “That was incredibly dumb.”, which made the bard gasp in mock-hurt.

“Geralt how dare you? I practically saved your life back there! – quite heroically, if I dare say so myself.”, Jaskier snapped back jokingly. And he knew that he would have handled the situation better had he known even the most basic fighting techniques, but he did not have any skills and stuff somehow still worked out, so he felt pretty proud of himself.

Geralt closed his eyes in frustration and heaved out a heavy sigh, before surprising Jaskier with a grumbled: “I did not say that you did not save my life.” Geralt threw him a stern look. “But that does not make it any less stupid.”

Jaskier practically glowed with glee and pride. “I can already envision the glorious ballad! Brave Jaskier, the humble bard, fearlessly throwing himself into the raging battle of-“

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah?”

“You threw a stone.” Jaskier actually saw the bastards mouth twitching in the effort to hide a grin. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Hey! I threw that stone very bravely!”

Geralt actually huffed out a small laugh then, but when he took in the bards disgruntled clothes, smeared with dirt and grime, his face grew serious again. “You went down pretty hard. You hurt anywhere?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Warriors don’t get hurt.”

“You broke a toe dancing last month.”, Geralt noted dryly. “Well, come to think of it, I guess you did not get hurt as you’d already be whining about it if you did.”

“Hey, that toe-thing hurt.”, Jaskier pouted. “I normally am very pain resistant.”

“Sure are.”

And they left it at that. Although Jaskier knew how immensely grateful Geralt really was, when he offered him a spot on Roach (which Jaskier, obviously, happily accepted).

Riding, for some weird reason, made Jaskier kind of dizzy, so he could barely force down three bites of his stew, before he surrendered and pushed his plate towards Geralt.

“Can you get horse sick?”, he asked dreamily and immediately felt Geralts boring stare on him. He looked up. “What?”

“You’re sick?”, Geralt inquired suspiciously, having been wary ever since Jaskier fell oddly silent as soon as they had mounted Roach.

“I never said that.”, Jaskier exclaimed defensively. “It’s probably the adrenaline wearing off.”

“Hm.”

“Nothing a good pint of ale won’t be able to fix, right? And a good night’s sleep – we should really think about sleeping in real beds more often. You know, to get proper rest and socialize instead of wasting away in the forest.”, Jaskier rambled on, desperate to change the subject in order to not have Geralt on his case all week because of a bit on an upset stomach.

“Hm.”

“Spoilsport.”

They separated for the night shortly after; Geralt immediately retreating to their shared room and Jaskier spending some time wooing the small audience with carefully composed songs and mirror-practiced charms. Though, Jaskier did call it a night unusually early too, having promised himself that healing sleep will free him from all ailments that came with kind-of fighting alongside Geralt.

And well, he was wrong.

He woke up to a splitting headache.

“Yikes.”, he groaned as he sat up, bringing up both hands to massage his temples.

“Had a drop too much?”

And as Jaskier thought about it, he came to the conclusion, that he actually had no idea how much he drank the evening prior – not the normal blank he drew, when the evening blurred together in a mass of pints and shots and girls and… no, this was a complete memory lapse.

To him, it was annoying more than scary, really.

“Screw you, Geralt.”, Jaskier snapped, because Geralt sounded way too smug for his liking. Also, no matter how hard he tried, he could not draw up a single memory.

“Touchy, aren’t you?”, Geralt asked with an obvious smirk.

Jaskier snorted. “Are we leaving?”, he asked then, when his gaze fell on Geralts packed bags; took in the Witcher’s general impatient demeanour.

“Yeah.”, Geralt confirmed his fears. “Took you long enough to wake.”

He looked at Jaskier for a moment, as if searching for something. “Breakfast is on me.”

Geralt’s way of showing gratitude. Jaskier knew, that he should be immensely happy, but he just felt… kind of weird and muddle-headed. Also, still very nauseous.

“I feel so loved.”, he cheered weakly, mostly out of habit. He could probably stomach some food anyways – most times, it even helped him get over a hangover.

When Jaskier had packed up and they stepped out of the inn and into a small tavern, the smell of freshly cooked eggs and beans wafting their way, Jaskier changed his mind.

“Know what:-“, he choked out, dizzily. “I guess I’m not hungry after all. I’ll just… stay with Roach. Outside.”

“Hm.”, Geralt grunted dangerously. “You barely ate yesterday evening.”

“I’m watching my figure.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt watched the bards face take on a greyish-green hue and he grabbed Jaskiers upper arm roughly, dragging him outside, and nearly pushed him into a bush off the beaten path, away from prying eyes.

“Do what you have to do.”, Geralt said, and it almost sounded compassionate.

“I’m fine.”, Jaskier gulped, despite all logic and appearance. “Jus’ hungover or somethin’.”

“Hmm.”

“Seriously.”, Jaskier mumbled, still breathing heavily in an attempt to fight off the nausea.

“Right.”, Geralt sighed, watching Jaskiers face slowly morph into a more healthy-looking colour. “If you think so.”

“You going back in?”

“No.”, Geralt said, eying Jaskier warily. “Let’s just leave. We can eat later.”

“Alright.”, the bard sighed. His head still hurt and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Let’s, then.”

They walked towards Roach in silence and – unusually enough – it was Geralt who finally broke it, when he strapped his bag onto her back. “You wanna ride with me?”

Just the thought made Jaskier feel terribly ill again. “Hard pass.” He knew that walking would be tough on him too, but there was something distinct to the jostling motion on the horse’s saddle that made it particularly unattractive to him that day.

Geralt eyed him suspiciously. He did not often offer, but when he did, Jaskier never refused.

“You’re acting strange.”, he noted. “Well, more so than usual.”

“Ouch.”, Jaskier said, already a few steps ahead of the Witcher. “I’m great, and you know it.”

So they walked – or well, Jaskier walked. And he kept walking, even when he kept getting dizzier and more disoriented and his head started pounding in earnest.

It was when stars started dancing around his vision, that he knew that he was in real trouble. “Geralt-“, he breathed, hearing his own voice tremble and crack.

And he saw Geralt stop abruptly and turn out of the corner of his eye, before his vision went entirely black.

 When Jaskier woke up, the first thing he noticed was his still-pounding head. Then, something weird, wet on his still-pounding head. “Th’fuck.”, he mumbled in disgust, slowly moving to sit up.

“Stay down.”, a low voice growled.

“G’ralt?”

“Don’t want you doing more damage than you already did.”

“Ow.” Jaskier sat up despite Geralts warning because honestly, that’s just the kind of person he was, and one of Geralts old shirts, all wet and bunched up, fell into his lap with a splat. “Huh.”

He heard Geralt sigh. “Stubborn bastard.” Then, Geralts face was only inches away from his own.

“Uh, Geralt.”

“Look at me.” Geralt stared more intently into his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”, Jaskier mumbled weakly. Focusing on Geralt was exhausting and the sun’s brightness was only making him feel worse.

Geralt straightened up again. “You hit your head yesterday.”

“Is that supposed to be a question?”

“Not if we both know the answer.”

“Right.” Jaskier continued squinting at Geralt. “I might have hit it.”

Geralt let out a big sigh. “Thank you for telling me right away instead of fainting in the middle of our journey.”

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows (which made his head pound more fiercely, but well: worth it). “Are you… being sarcastic right now?”

“You were out for hours, Jaskier.”, Geralt snarled, clearly signalling that he was not to be joked with right now. “Wouldn’t wake.”

“I…”, Jaskier began, before letting his head fall into his hands. “Can we do this when my head does not feel like it’s splitting in two?”

He felt a warm hand on his back, lowering him back down, before it vanished for a second and returned with Geralts wet shirt, draping it over his face. Jaskier sighed in pleasure. The ground beside his sleeping mat rustled and he felt Geralt lowering himself down next to him.

There was awkward silence where Jaskier would normally chatter away. But he was to achy and tired to do so then.

“I should have noticed earlier.”, he heard Geralt grumble after a while, mostly to himself, as it seemed. He frowned.

“Stop, your self-pity is making my head hurt.”

“Your concussion is making your head hurt.”

Jaskier sighed, trying to snuggle closer to Geralt in search of comfort. A big hand settled on his shoulder. “Maybe that, yeah.”, he agreed, putting his own hand over Geralts.

The Witcher breathed out a gentle laugh. “Rest, Jaskier.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴊᴇᴋʏʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ ʜʏᴅᴇ.

♥♥♥

A well beloved doctor living in London, Andrew has made quite a name for himself! All of his patients are very happy with his work as he is able to always diagnose them properly and give them the correct medicine - truly a divine blessing in this day and age. He's a cheerful gentleman in his mid to early thirties who always has a gentle smile on his face. He is very fond of children and he does not mind babysitting them whenever someone asks him to do so, making him popular with parents and single mothers especially. During the day time he is filled to the brim with work but he always makes time to have afternoon tea, chat with his servants, or just try to enjoy like in general. A truly kind man in the eyes of many!

Alas though, when darkness overcomes his manor a new side of the good doctor surfaces, a side that no one knows about.

And Andrew plans to keep it that way.

There are many, many things that the doctor desires, craves, needs. But he is stuck in the same place day by day as he is forced to play his role of the savior. Even the good doctor Andrew likes to indulge himself from time to time... But that indulgence has gotten out of hand. By sheer accident Andrew was able to create a special elixir which is able to shift him in to a completely different person. His body is different, his hair is different, everything is different. His psyche however, remains the same.

And Andrew uses this newfound knowlege to his advantage.

Dubbing his new alter ego "Edward Hyde", Andrew is pleased to do what he wants once the sun sets. He messes with the townfolk, he shamelessly flirts and seduces any woman he sees, he picks on the young and the poor, nothing is off the table. This becomes a habbit very quickly as Edward is soon well known among the city. Some flee and flinch at the mere mention of him while others scoff and prepare their fists for a fight. Things continue like this for a while until Andrew notices that whenever he changes in to Edward, his mind is no longer fully his. Even throught the day as he sits in his office he can hear a gruff voice at the back of his mind, telling him to just finish the damn paperwork already. He starts hearing this voice everywhere and he starts to think that he is going mad. The voice taunts him day after day until he finally turns in to Hyde. Only then is he able to feel some inner peace. Andrew soon starts to lose control over himself as the voice grows louder and louder, yelling at him and commanding him to do its bidding. Every day now turns in to a battle as Andrew struggles to get out of bed and face himself in the mirror... But that's the catch. On one fateful morning the reflection he sees is not his own.

It's Hyde's.

The glowing green eyes of Edward Hyde stare back at him as Jekyll does his best to hold his breath in. This can't be real, this can't be happening! By now Andrew is pretty much at war with this new persona he had made and he does not know how to stop this coflict. Both do as they please which contradicts their previous actions, making both Edward and Andrew more then a little suspicious to the public eye. By this point Andrew regrets having ever created Edward but it's too late now. Edward Hyde was a part of him now, a dark part of him which could not be released. The only thing Andrew could do was to keep him at bay even if he was bearly able to do so. This constant pushing and pulling was exhausting to both of them and both were more then ready for a release.

And their release indeed came, but not in the way they thought it would.

It came in the form of love. Love for a sweet darling, a twisted obsession and want over this special little lamb who stumbled in to their lives by sheer accident, at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Andrew and Edward remain greatful still.

The pushing and pulling dies down whenever (y/n) is in the room and their attitudes are completely different from each other. Oh, if only (y/n) knew just what sort of danger awaits...

Andrew Jekyll.

Ever the gentleman, Andrew always places his darlings needs before his own. He worries for his sweetheart constantly as he dotes on them, making sure that they are safe and happy. Did his darling eat today? Did his darling sleep well? He won't ever stop asking these questions whenever he sees them, he just can't help himself! He never shuts up and he always seems to forget what he is trying to say but that's okay, his darling doesn't seem to mind.

Andrew stays gentle like that for a while as he treats his darling like divine royalty which does not go unnoticed by the people around him. He hears his servants whisper many things once he turns his back but he can't help but to blush a little - he may act a little awkward but in reality he really doesn't mind.

Andrew is also willing to bend over backwards and break his spine to get his darling whatever their little heart desires. He has more then enough money then he knows what to do with anyway! He wants jis darling to depend on him, he wants to be darlings only one true protector. He wants to provide for his darling like a good husband would.

Andrew often loses himself in these little fantasies that he gets distracted from his work, cahsing him to mess something up or to accidentaly spill or destroy amything around him. It's a vicious cycle of endless pinning as Andrew just doesn't have the guts to express his feelings, much to Hyde's annoyance and amusement. Cracks will start to form deep within him as Andrew tries to restrain himself more and more whenever he is around his darling. His smiles are not entierly his anymore as he stares his darling down like a piece of meat. Andrew hungers for darlings love and approval which in a way, does make his darling a piece of meat to him.

No matter what he just can never get enough of his darling, ever. The cheerful smiles thrown his way are not enough, and good grief just the mere brush of darlings fingers against his own is enough to send Jekyll in to a panicked frenzy. He loses his composure right there and then as he is forced to look his darling in the eye and do... nothing. He can't do anything he desires, he can't grab his darling by the back of their neck and press those pretty little lips against his own...

He can't caress the love of his life freely in public.

Hell, he can't even touch them without someone making a fuss.

Everything, everyone, is slowly driving him mad.

His love is driving him mad.

Andrew's affection starts to turn conditional, he can only ever shower his darling with gifts if they behave how he wants them to, if they pay enough attention to him, which is of course never quite enough.

His sanity fades as lovesickness kicks in.

His patience is wearing thin. What's taking his darling to love him back already? Hasn't he done everything any ideal lover would do? He has done literally everything, it must be his darling! It can't be his fault! His soft spoken words soon turn sharper then any knife as he imagines that very same weapon in his hands, pressed against darlings pretty little neck. Bruised, bloody and broken, that's how Jekyll wants his darling to be now.

He wants to crush them in his love.

And chances are, he will give in to his temptations.

Edward Hyde.

Tsk, tsk, this man is quite the charmer. A real smooth talker blessed with a deeper voice then his more seemingly more gentle counterpart, Hyde is no stranger to suggestive comments and rough touches. His feelings ignite like flames, quickly and suddenly. They take over his heart and soul, burning him and leaving endless ache and want in its path.

It's a strange feeling. He doesn't know how to feel about it...

When he meets his darling he treats her just how he treats other women. He craves nothing more then darlings body but when darling turns him down Hyde feels intrigued. Playing hard to get, eh?

He is always up for a good challenge.

Hyde stops paying attention to other women and his darling soon becomes his prime time target - Edward cannot move on unless he has his darling. He provokes, taunts and teases, just itching to see darlings reactions to his schemes. Cuss at him, slap him, do anything you want! Just as long as your focus is on him that wolf like grin will never leave his face. He just loves it when his darling turns red, it's so cute he could kiss her. His provoking continues like this for a while until Hyde begins to realize just how some couples act around each other. His softer side starts to show itself and it's something to marvel at really.

Unlike Jekyll, who is soft at the beginning and turns cruel at the end, Hyde is the opposite of that. He doesn't want to just mess with his darling anymore, he wants to actually love and care for her, to actually be in a commited relationship.

His protective side is on full display and anyone with at least a single braincell should be able to get the message.

Hyde often wonders when the Hell did he become so soft all of a sudden. He wants this pain in his chest to stop but the only way it can is if his darling is with him. He doesn't need anyone else... He doesn't want anyone else.

Let's hope Hyde's darling has a strong stomach because he doesn't give a damn who he has to hurt. He and Jekyll are nearly nothing alike but if they share on thing in common, it would be determination.

Edward Hyde has found his prey and he isn't going anywhere without it.

Tags: @3rdgymbros, @eclipsezero, @ghostiebabey, @yandere-of-your-dreams, @howl-of-the-hunting-lambs, @yandere-wishes, @severnrsstuff, @twstdreams, @twst-soul, @hattress-of-spades

I did my best guys, I hope this was okay! First time making a OC, sorry if it's too similar to the original characters. As I write more stories for them I'll try to build them up more! And feel free to ask any questions if you have them!

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Overhaul and reader from 1-A (part 2)

I FUCKING TOLD YOU ALL I WAS GOING TO OUT THIS IN HERE. TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED? HELL YEAH BUT IS HERE.

You played with the card in your fingers nervously as you numbly stared at it.

A loud bang on the door made you yelp and almost throw the card away.

"HEY FUCKING DUMBASS CLASS IS ABOUT TO FUCKING START GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!" Bakugou yelled from the other side as he banged furiously on your door.

"Geez Bakugou come on you sound like a police officer going to arrest (Y/N)!" Said Mina as she probably wss trying to stiffle her laughter.

"Come on bro mister Aizawa said only to call her, not to explode her door." Said Kirishima as he probably was trying his nmbest to calm the blonde down as you heard Kaminari and Sero laughter.

You stared at your door and giggled nervously before opening it, and just in time Bakugou mumbled a 'fucking finally' as he stormed his way out.

"What was that?" You asked looking at Mina who only smirked as Kirishima started to lead you to class.

"Mister Aizawa called us to bring you to him. Said he wanted to talk with you."

"Oooh! What have you done for that (Y/N)?" Asked Mina teasingly while you only rolled your eyes.

You looked at the watch and noticed it was already eleven p.m and you wondered how your tired teacher was still up...

Fucking insonia (Y/N)

But then your heart seemed to stop along with your whole blood system at remembering his voice echoing in the back of your head.

You only had one hour to contact them...

"A-ah... actually I need to... u-uh..." you twirled around, which made the baku squad look at you in wonder.

"I-I need to call my... m-my parents! They said they were worried about me sleeping on the school grounds, so c-can you please tell Aizawa-sensei if I can talk with him tommorow instead?" They looked at you before changing glances at each other, finally they smiled, showing their understatement.

You thanked them and runned to your room, locking the door as you desperately picked your phone and tiped the numbers with trembling fingers.

The phone ranged for a few seconds and you felt a knot forming in your throat when someone finally picked up, a raspy voice.

"What's your deal?"

"I-I-I... U-uh..." what was his name again?

"Are you fucking joking? Whoever is the little punk calling to make a prank I WiLL KiLL IT For MakiNg JoKes On ThE YakUsa-!" You flinched at the shout coming from your phone as you putted away from your ear's sake.

"I-I-! Sorry! Sorry! It just that s-someone gave me this phone a-and he asked for me to call it since he was the boss o-or something! O-Overhaul I-I guess? I'm sorry!"

The voice quieted down as he calmly asked for you to wait a moment.

What a sudden change of humor...

"Why, isn't this interesting?" The familiar voice spoked through the call, which made you shiver at hearing the stranger vouce again and so close to your ear.

"You let for calling me on the last minute." He paused, emiting a sound that reminded you of a scoff "Not very much pontual, right? We will need to correct that..."

"I-I didn't even say what is my decision." You spoke while rubbing your sweaty palms on your bed.

"Is that so? You have literally 15 minutes to tell me dear student." The voice spoked in false amusement.

Your silence was a signal for him to start making what he did best.

Manipulating.

"Aren't you tired of this? Being classified by numbers and strenght of your quirks between, dare I say, colleagues? And imagine if you do end up as a hero. Everyone who you study with will challenge and compete against each other to surpass the tittle of being number one or to at least have a good ranking..."

You thought for a moment... he wasn't lying, how many times did you caught Bakugou fighting with Midoriya about being better than him?

"Judging by your silence I was correct." He sounded even pleased at his accomplishment.

"You're quite the smug type aren't you Overhaul?" You said, sounding a bit more irritated then pretended.

"And you are quite the interrogator one in here..." he said in mockness.

"Seriously, there's so many people you can try to recruit, why a student of a hero course even caught your attention? Aren't you a villain?"

"Are you deaf by any chance? Or just has a serious problem on your earring?" He sighed, clearly already not with just as much pacience he had before "I saw this ridiculous sport festival in your sick school, and saw the potential you carry. Why put yourself under trash when you can be under someone who is looking for a cure for this sick world filled with the hero syndrome? Let me be your leader and tutor, and I can show you how explendid and valuable you can be for the yakusa."

Silence between you two was implanted, although you could feel the beating of your heart pouding in your ears.

"And if I say n-no?"

"Ever heard of what the yakusa is capable of? We have our own methods to get what we desire... And I'm sure you wouldn't want any of your close friends or even family to get hurt now would you?"

You froze, how can this man be so cruel..?

"Not to sound too annoying and rude now, but you have only one minute to tell me your answer U.A student... your time is ticking."

"W-What?!"

"Ah. Actually, you have now ten seconds before I send my subordinates to take care of your loved ones. Ten."

"N-No wait! Please!"

"Nine."

"Please don't do this!"

"Eight. Seven."

"You can't be serious please! They don't have anything with this!"

"Six. Five. Four..."

"Overhaul!"

"Three. Two..."

"OK I WILL JOIN YOU JUST OLEASE DONT DO THIS!" you cried, gripping tightly on your cellphone as your tears fell on the sheets of your bed.

"Wonderful. Tommorow some papers will be delivered at your dorm. You will get out of U.A and follow a man called Chronostasis. He will lead you to where you will be living now."

You hummed, still trying to contain your sobs

Why you of all people..?

"Pleasure doing bussines with you (Y/N). I look forward to see you tomorrow pn the evening." He said coldly before finishing the call.

You layed on your stomach, crying your eyes out in your pillow, dreading the way your life would drastically change after tommorow.

~

"WHAT?! WHY?!" The deku squad yelled, except Todoroki who only carried a woried look, after you delivered the news of you changing suddenly the school.

"M-My parents asked me to do it.. Not enough money in my house so I will have to helo them..."

Ochaco seemed even more hurt at these words, as she bringed you to a crushing hug, accidentally using her quirk on you and making you float a little.

"(Y/N)-chan! Please let us talk with them!" Said Midoriya, bot even a bit shy but instead with confidence and determination on his eyes "I'm sure if we talk to them they will see how this is inportant for you!" Tsuyu nodded with a 'kero'at the green haired boy words.

"Yes, I'm sure they would understand. You worked hard to be on the hero course of U.A after all!" Iida said moving his hands dramatically.

"They don't have the right to order something like that." Said sternly Todoroki placing a hand on your shoulder bringing you down to the ground as Uraraka apologized.

"Guys... Thanks for this, but trust me, its for the be-"

"(Y/N)." Called a man with white hair and white hoddie aproaching.

"Chronostasis. Let's go." He whispered close to you, making you shiver in fear.

"(Y/N)-chan? Who is that?" Midoriya approached, placing a protective hand on your shoulder as he stared up at the unknown man.

Chrono merely glared down at the green boy as he lied.

"Not that it is your bussines anyway. But I'm their sibbling. Now, dont you all have classes to go or something?"

"(Y/N) is that true?" Asked Uraraka worriedly as Iida mention to her as if making the same question.

"You never told us you had a older brother." Todoroki murmured.

"Personal life out of the school, congrats for only noticing that now. Now let's go." Said clearly irritated Chrono as you sighed sadly and sayed your good byes to them.

Midoya continue to stare thhe pare until they left the school grounds and left the gates with a sick feeling on his stomach.

Something wasn't right...

~

You got out of the car and nervously followed the man through the house.

"Made a good job on not giving them much information. Overhaul will appreciate that." The man said oppening one door for you to enter.

You took a couple of steps and your heart seemed to have vrashed in a billions pisses as your soul threatened to leave your body in fear as you saw the man which you were fearing ever since the moment you locked gazes with him.

"Glad to see you again... my protege." Said coldly Overhaul, sitting in his couch, motioning for you to sit in front of him and a table where it was leaved a white plague mask.

"Welcome to the Shie Hassaikai."

It took me three days... FINALLY HERE.

[peterbishop]

my hands can't hold enough

He looks at her, dazed, with a lazy smile. “Happy snow day, babe.”

“You have any other plans for us today?” she asks, amused. “Or are we just going to make out on our couch?”

(or; jake, amy, and a snow day)

read on ao3

-

She watches how the snow, slow and wispy and almost nostalgic, falls into his hair, cold white against brown curls. His left hand is warm in hers, and she feels the expected weight of his wedding ring, no longer so sharp and metal almost two years into their marriage. He leans into her side as he stares up, up at the skyscrapers and impermeable blanket of grey clouds, as if he had never seen them before. Wide, wide eyes and a tilted smile that she can’t help but kiss on street corners.

“I loved snow days when I was a kid,” he tells her that morning, imprinting his smile on her shoulder. “My mom would make me hot chocolate and give me ten marshmallows.”

She doesn’t complain when Terry calls five minutes later, telling them not to come in—Jake and Amy have endured a series of exhausting cases lately—and Amy hangs up with a smile, further snuggling into her husband. His arm is heavy across her back, and she buries her nose into the hollow of his throat, the smell of spice and clean sheets greeting her. Their legs tangle, whole and complete and intertwined, something of a metaphor of what they’ve become. Her thumb runs over his jaw, warm skin and solid bone. She keeps her eyes shut, caught in that realm between wakefulness and sleep, but she knows he’s smiling: it’s his most natural state. She thinks, if only they could stay like this.

Eventually, Jake murmurs that they should go outside and enjoy the snow (She moans, “But it’s freezing outside—“ “Don’t worry, Ames, I’ll keep you warm,” he grins with a wink).

So, that’s how she finds herself outside during a Brooklyn snowstorm. Her breath almost looks silver in the air, the soft, white flakes getting caught in her eyelashes. Jake amiably chats away about his upcoming movie night with Charles—“We’re watching Frozen 2!”—and Amy happily listens along, the warmth of his voice cutting through the February chill. The sidewalks are iced and near blue, the snow crunching underfoot like the timed beat to a song. She has always marveled at New York during a storm: cars are infrequent and the city that never sleeps succumbs to a calm lull, of falling snowflakes and quiet mouths.

“Ames,” he’s pulling her into him. “Let’s go here.”

It’s a quaint cafe—quite literally a hole in the wall with its square opening carved into a brick wall. A few people stand in line while others meander and smile behind the sweet steam of hot coffee. Two women work in the cafe (Amy isn’t sold on if it can be called that considering the lack of seating), bustling to serve drinks and take customers’ money.

“Can’t we go someplace that’s indoors?” Amy gripes with a shiver.

“But they have mint hot chocolate, babe!” Her husband exclaims like he’s ten-years-old and finding out school has been canceled. “With extra whipped cream!”

Perhaps she’s gone soft, but she gives in, letting him drag her along. Jake orders his sugary drink—“A large for me and my wife”—with a smile so wide and earnest, Amy begins to blush, a rose-red against her pale, wind-bitten cheeks. He takes a sip, and his eyes shine like sun through ice.

He holds out the cup to her. “You gotta try it. It’s, like, stupid good.”

She takes the cup, briefly relishing in its radiating heat, before taking a sip. The drink is hot, yet cooly mint, with the perfect bite of dark chocolate. “Alright,” she says, eyes half-lidded. “It’s pretty good.”

“Told you we didn’t need to go somewhere indoors,” he says, a smirk cutting across his face.

She takes another taste, eager and thankful for the warmth it provides. When she looks back up at her husband, he breaks into a goofy smile, trying to smother it behind his hand. “What is it?”

He hums: “Oh, nothing.”

“Jake.”

“You’ve got a little—“ and his lips fall on hers, kissing the whipped cream off her top lip. Somehow, in the winter air, she’s melting into him, his hand on her cheek and her free hand on the back of his neck. It’s gentle and nothing more, soft mouths meeting, tasting of hot chocolate and she thinks, love is this simple. This and this and this—standing on a quiet Brooklyn sidewalk, kissing without a care with snow in their hair and affection on their tongues.

They walk a dance back to their apartment, hands enclasped and taking melodic steps. At one point, he tries to twirl her but ends up spinning himself, and they’re laughing. Laughing because it’s easy and laughing because they can, forgetting about unfinished cases and paperwork and remembering them: a constant center within busy streets and blinking lights. His lips are against her temple when he pulls her in close, and she feels as though he is everywhere, everywhere.

When they get home, delirious on hot chocolate and stripped of their winter clothing, he falls back onto their couch and tugs her to his lap. His hands smooth over her ribs, her back, her hips, consuming and him, if she can put a proper word to it. She sinks into his touch, still as breathless as she was on their undercover case all those years ago. When he kissed her at the restaurant, and she kissed him against the tree, and the real version of them collided, gentle and true, in the evidence locker. Here, in their apartment, it’s easier, more languid and thoughtful and known, but the thrill remains the same.

He looks at her, dazed, with a lazy smile. “Happy snow day, babe.”

“You have any other plans for us today?” she asks, amused. “Or are we just going to make out on our couch?”

He holds her hips with intention. “I’m pretty cool with making out with my hot wife.”

Her hands curve around his neck, thumbs on his jaw, and he watches her with constellations in his eyes. She says, “I’m surprised you’re not making me have a snowball fight with you.”

“Oh, Ames, you know I would kick your frozen—but very cute—ass if we did that.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “Five of my brothers played baseball. They taught me how to throw a mean curveball.”

His eyes widen. “Did you ever wear those tight baseball pants because babe—“

She bats at his chest. “Could you stop being a flirt for one second?”

“Nope,” he grins widely. “Because you married me, and that means we’re kinda stuck together forever.”

“I guess we kinda are,” and she’s smiling too.

They never make it back outside; but they do end up in matching pairs of grey sweatpants and ragged NYPD shirts, outfits they once made the mistake of wearing in front of Charles during last year’s trip to the beach house. “They’re twinning!” He had cheered, brimming with joy and—were those tears in his eyes? Amy couldn’t tell.

They don’t make it far from the couch, minus once for Chinese food delivery and second for Jake to put in one of his worn Die Hard DVDs. “It’s the perfect film for today,” he tells her. “It’s a winter movie.”

“That seems like a bit of stretch,” she says.

“But it involves Christmas!”

“It’s February, Jake.”

He drags her down next to him, knowing it’ll end their bantering, and they lay on their sides. His body seems bigger this way, how he curls around her and splays his hand across her stomach, keeping her flush and close. When the credits roll, their eyelids droop. Outside, slate grey melts into syrupy blackness, coating the night sky. Snow continues to fall, but softer, more elegant. A crescendo and swirl of white, backlit by street lights.

“Have a good day, Ames?” he mumbles into her hair.

“Of course,” she says, sure and absolute.

“I honestly thought,” he considers, “you would get FOMOW.”

Her eyebrows screw together. “Why would I get that?”

“Because you love work and solving cases and doing paperwork, and I don’t mean that as a bad thing, not at all, it’s just how you are and—“

“Babe,” she says, “you’re rambling.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says softly.

She moves around in his arms so now they face. She looks at the pink bend of his mouth, the richness of his eyes, the dimple on his chin. She’ll never tire of his intricacies. “Did you ever consider,” she asks, “I only get FOMOW about working with you?”

His mouth shifts, a small quirk of confusion. “What?”

“I get the fear of missing out on work with you.”

“Oh,” and his eyelashes flutter. “Oh.”

“Whenever you’re at work and I’m not, I hate it. Even before we started dating, and I kinda hated you—“

“More like had a crush on me—“

“—That was you, babe.”

He reluctantly nods.

“I liked being around you because you pushed me, and you still do. So when you’re at work, and I’m elsewhere, I feel like I’m missing out. I know I’m not a detective anymore, but you’re always going to be my partner. I just like being… well… with you.”

He kisses her hard and with intent, holding her face like he’s holding the world in his hands. “I love you,” he breathes out when they break apart.

“I love you, too,” she smiles with ease. “So yeah, work is fun, but work with you is better. And even better than that? Spending a lazy day with my husband.”

“Even when it’s practically zero degrees outside?”

“Then, too. Although, I still could have gone the whole day without going outside.”

“But that cocoa was to die for!”

“We definitely could have made that at home. How hard can it possibly be?”

He replies flatly, “The smoke detector went off the last time you tried to make pasta.”

Exasperated, she says, “I think there’s something wrong with that detector, okay? It’s not like a fire actually started.”

He rolls his eyes, but it’s fond with affection, and his thumb sweeps across her cheekbone. “Whatever you say, Ames.”

She huffs, "I know I'm right," but she can't help but kiss the smirk right off his face.

Eventually, they make it to bed, slow and serene. And when the snow finally drifts, so do they.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Ayy I am here with a request!! One of my favorites of your fics is the one where Tony, Clint, and Bruce are all in a safe house and can't leave and Tony has a stomach bug. I LOVE that setting. Would you be interested in writing another fic that takes place there? Maybe someone is on a mission with Tony and he starts to not feel well so they try to find a place to rest and by the time they get there, he's barely conscious? :O

Thank you for the prompt, dear! I decided to simply write a second chapter for that fic. I hope you feel better soon with your new meds and all

This is mostly whump and Avengers family fluff and banter. TW for illness and vomiting. Major thanks to @whumphoarder​ for beta reading.

___________

Safe (Chapter 2)

Read chapter 1 here. 

The thing is, none of the Avengers consider themselves particularly lucky. Brilliant, strong, heroic? Yes, without question. Happy? Not nearly often enough, but it has happened occasionally. Lucky? Not a chance.

So, maybe, Bruce thinks later, maybe they should have seen it coming. 

He’s jerked awake by Clint’s command of “Move! Let’s go, get up, come on, we need to go, now!” and for a moment he’s gripped by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. But Clint isn’t delirious; he is as serious as Bruce has ever seen him, so Bruce complies with the orders before his brain is even fully awake. 

The two of them drag Tony to his feet and into the bedroom, and then Clint shatters the window - a bit dramatically, but really, what else to expect from a former circus kid? They jump through, landing in varying states of (non)-elegance, and make a run for it. 

Five seconds later, the house blows up. 

“What the hell -?” Tony stops dead in his tracks to look at his friends with a baffled expression. “‘s this another fever dream or did someone actually just try to kill us?”

“Oh, it’s quite real,” Clint replies casually, picking an ember from his hair with a peace of mind Bruce can only envy. “I saw their van approaching through the window. That gave us a head start - otherwise we’d be toast. Now save your breath and move.”

Tony starts to jog again with visible effort, but of course he keeps talking. “So - just to make this clear” - he interrupts himself to drag in a breath, sweat beading on his brow despite the fact that it’s been barely a minute - “your so-called ‘safe house’ is now a heap of burning ash. Call me a stickler, but I have to say that makes it a very unsafe house.”

Clint just rolls his eyes and then grabs Tony by the elbow when he almost trips over his own feet. The archer turns his head back to Bruce, who is following them close behind. “You okay?”

Bruce is wondering what about escaping death by a five-second margin could possibly make him feel “okay”, but he knows what Clint is really asking about. Bruce is scared, which means that the Hulk is actively stirring in the back of his mind, but so far he is able to keep him under control. He makes a so-so gesture with his hand before asking, “Where are we going?”

“To take cover in the woods.” Clint points at the forest a few hundred yards away. “Under different circumstances, I would fight, but we don’t have any weapons on us and this isn’t ideal…” He nods at Tony, who is now visibly having a hard time keeping up. Bruce’s stomach clenches in worry; with a fever like that, Tony shouldn’t even be on his feet, let alone running around in the open. But it’s not like they have much of a choice.

They barely make it to the treeline when Tony suddenly stops and doubles over. He braces himself against a tree and heaves, a slim stream of vomit splattering onto the ground.

“How bad is it?” Bruce asks. His vision is shimmering green by now and he blinks nervously before massaging the pressure points on the inside of his wrists in an effort to calm himself down.

Tony coughs wetly and spits onto the ground before wiping his mouth. “I’ve been worse,” he says in a weak attempt at being reassuring. “Just, break?”

Bruce looks at Clint, who nods. They barely manage to rest for two minutes before a bullet whips past them, hitting the tree Tony was just leaning against. 

“Fuck,” Clint curses, his nonchalance replaced by alertness. “Looks like they’re coming after us -” 

The rest of his words are drowned out by a growing ringing in Bruce’s ears. There’s the familiar sensation of his limbs tingling, pulsating, swelling. He can feel his thoughts slipping away, being replaced by much simpler ones. 

“No Bruce! Not now, don’t -”

But it’s too late. Danger, friends in danger, his mind screams, and that’s all it takes. 

The Hulk emerges from the forest with a roar.

*

When Bruce comes back to himself, it’s with dizziness, exhaustion, and a sense of nausea, but also with the remnants of satisfaction in the back of his mind telling him that Hulk has sufficiently taken care of the bad guys. 

He is naked, of course. Naked and alone and cold, somewhere in a forest in the middle of nowhere (and then people ask him why he dislikes his alter ego). With a sigh, he makes it to his knees, feeling shaky and lightheaded. 

“Hello?” he calls hoarsely, and then, louder, “Tony? Clint?”

It takes him twenty minutes of walking in a random direction that he keeps telling himself is the way out of the woods until someone starts answering his calls, and another fifteen until he finds Clint and Tony in a small clearing that is being illuminated by the last rays of daylight. To Bruce’s surprise, they made it quite far into the forest; he wonders what Clint had to do to make Tony walk this much. 

Tony is sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, while Clint is balancing somewhere high up in the branches, likely keeping a lookout. When Bruce approaches the clearing, the archer jumps down with an agility that makes Bruce wonder whether they should give him a different nickname. Monkey-legs instead of Hawkeye, for example.

“Hey, Big Green,” Tony greets with an enthusiasm that can’t hide the weariness in his tone. “Or should I say Little White now?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Bruce can’t even muster a grin. “Um, by any chance, do we have some spare clothes here?”

And that’s the thing about friends. They’ll tease and poke you endlessly, they’ll embarrass you without limit, but when it comes down to it, they will give you the shirt off their back without making a big deal out of it. Quite literally, because two minutes later, Bruce is wearing Clint’s jeans and button-down, while Tony is giggling into his palm, unable to tear his eyes off Clint’s colourful boxers, which are decorated with a pattern of bows and arrows (“It was a gift from Lila, dude. Now shut up, or I’ll take off your pants.”)

This time Tony obliges, but mostly because they haul him to his feet a few seconds later and his face completely drains of colour. Reeling, he squeezes his eyes shut and grasps blindly for something to hold on to. Clint and Bruce jump to support him from either side, exchanging a worried look over his head. 

“Let’s just get back to the safehouse, alright?” Clint says to Tony. “We’ll find a way to contact the others and then we’ll take you to a hospital.”

Tony nods and takes a deep breath before opening his eyes. “Okay,” he exhales. 

They make their way back very, very slowly. Bruce is shaky and nauseous himself, his body still trying to adjust to the sudden shift back to human form, but he can’t imagine how Tony must be feeling with the fever burning him inside-out. And that’s not even to mention the dehydration and tanking blood sugar he must be experiencing. The engineer is unusually quiet and visibly dizzy. Most of his weight is resting on Clint and Bruce, but he keeps tripping over roots and fallen branches.

They’ve just made it out of the forest and can already see smoke climbing in the sky when Tony suddenly sags into Bruce. “I really don’t feel well.” His voice is almost indiscernible. “I might - I, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“We’re nearly there,” Bruce reassures, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Can you see the light?”

“I see lights everywhere,” Tony moans, still stumbling along. “Fine, but if I conk out, don’t leave me here to be eaten by wolves.”

“There are hardly any wolves in Arkansas,” Clint points out, but even he looks concerned. 

*

Tony is barely conscious by the time they reach what is left of the house. Most of it has burnt down, with only one of the exterior walls still left standing. Smoke is curling up from the ruins, making them all cough and their eyes water.

“Oh god,” Bruce whispers, imagining the state his friends would be in if Clint hadn’t gotten them out so quickly that morning. 

Clint just shrugs. “Could be worse.” He gently extricates himself from Tony’s arm around his shoulder. “I’ll check whether it’s safe - stay here for now,” he orders as he starts to climb into the ruins. 

Bruce turns his face to Tony. “Hey, you still with me?” he asks. 

The only answer is a grunt. Tony’s face is sweaty and even paler than before, his breaths coming out fast and shallow. He seems to be having difficulty focusing his eyes on Bruce. 

Luckily Clint returns a minute later, towing a smoking mattress behind him. “Whatever is left of the bedroom and bathroom is safe to enter, but I wouldn’t sleep there -  the fumes are bad. Let’s just camp out here for now.” He set the mattress down next to Tony. 

“Can we get in touch with the others?” Bruce asks. 

“Yep. Found my phone - it’s still working.” Clint holds up the device. Glancing at the engineer’s now closed eyes, he adds, “StarkTech has its perks, but don’t let Tony know. You should get settled. I’ll fetch us some water.” He turns to climb back into the building. 

“Good news - you can rest here until the others come,” Bruce addresses Tony, slowly lowering him down. 

“Hmm. Heard what Clin’ said…” Tony slurs.

“Yes, that’s great. Now lie down.”

Tony curls up on the still-smoking mattress with a little shiver that evokes a sudden instinct of protectiveness in Bruce. It’s odd; that feeling is usually left to the Hulk’s spectrum of emotions, and if anything, Tony would typically be the one to protect his friend should the need arise. Bruce shakes his head to clear the thoughts, but the warmth in his chest stays.

The blankets are beyond saving, but Bruce finds one of his sweaters that’s still mostly intact and drapes it over Tony’s form, calming the shivers running through him. 

Clint returns with a bucket of water and an empty plastic bottle to fill, more clothes, and a partially-melted bottle of Tylenol for Bruce that he accepts gratefully. He would prefer an IV in order to get Tony rehydrated and lower the fever, but they’ve got to make do with what they have. 

Bruce takes two pills himself and then sets to rouse the engineer while Clint tries to call Natasha.

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce lightly shakes the other man’s shoulder. ���Take some meds, then you can rest more.”

“Mhh…” Tony blinks up at him miserably. His eyes are wide and glazed over from fever, and his breaths are still coming heavily. 

“Come on.” Bruce supports his friend’s head while Tony swallows the painkillers and a few sips of water. 

“Ugh.” A shudder runs through Tony and he swallows thickly. “Feel sick.”

“I know. Just try to keep it down, okay? It will help with the fever.” Bruce wets his sleeve with a bit of water and wipes it gently over Tony’s forehead and his cheeks, cleaning away the sweat. Tony grimaces against the nausea, but then he seems to relax a little into Bruce’s touch. He closes his eyes and sinks back onto the mattress, curling tighter into himself. 

“Roger. Talk to you later,” Clint says and ends the call. He turns to Bruce. “It was a series of orchestrated attacks on the team. Nobody was seriously injured, if you don’t count Nat’s broken ribs and Cap’s burnt eyebrow, but SHIELD’s in chaos and it will take them a few hours to get to us.”

“Ah. Okay, that’s fine.” Bruce feels the adrenaline slowly wearing off, leaving only fatigue. He takes a few sips of water himself before handing the bottle to Clint and sinking down onto the edge of Tony’s mattress.

“Are you okay?” Clint asks. 

“Yeah,” Bruce replies, “Just… tired. And, you know, glad we didn’t die.”

“Ditto.” Clint grins. “You should lie down with Tony until the cavalry arrives. I’ll keep watch and alert you in case anything happens.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asks. Hulk-outs always leave him completely wiped out and his usual routine after missions is to tumble into bed immediately and sleep for at least a day. Being horizontal sounds incredibly tempting, but he feels bad leaving all the work to Clint. “I could stay up with you…”

“It’s okay. Trust me, this isn’t even close to the amount of stress of the average SHIELD mission.”

“Oh. Well, then…” Bruce trails off, unsure what to do with that information. It’s somehow simultaneously reassuring and concerning. “Just wake me up if anything happens, okay?”

“Sure.” 

By the time Bruce has gently shifted Tony so that he can fit next to him on the mattress, Clint has already started a campfire. Tony doesn’t fully wake up when Bruce lies down next to him, just murmurs something unintelligible and then buries his head in the shoulder of Bruce’s hoodie.

Tony is still far too hot, but between the engineer’s fever and the campfire, Bruce gets pleasantly warmed up. Usually, Bruce has a hard time falling asleep around people, and never in a million years would he have thought it could happen in the aftermath of an attack on his life, but somehow, with Tony essentially cuddling him from behind and Clint watching over them, he feels safer than at most places he ever stayed at before joining their little band of misfits. Watching the flames, it only takes him a few minutes to doze off.

Once he is sure that both men are sound asleep, Clint settles down cross-legged next to the campfire, and pulls out his phone. Then, smiling softly, he takes another photo. 

______________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33​  @yepokokfine​

@badthingshappenbingo​ - This is the prompt fill for the square “Kick them while they’re down”. 

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

"40 acres and a mule"

Baby what the Hell you want a mule for?

Alright baby. Let me tell you.

You will never ever ever get reparations.

Y'all this lady instigated him and pissed him off. Called him a dam liar and a begger and all kinds of bad.

I quit watching it. I seen enough. "Hustler"

Bitch I'll hustle my fist in your teeth and get you a new set, don't talk hustle when you don't know a dam thing about it.

Let me tell you about me.

I'm registered 1/16 Muscogee (Musckogee and/or Muskogee as well) Creek Nation out of Oklahoma. Our tribe headquarters is in Oklahoma in a mound of dirt -- under a pile of earth is our headquarters.

We have the original council house of brick in town it's a measeuem were all very proud of. Its on 6th street. On a big ole square.

So. Let me tell you. We used to be in Georgia. That's why i picked Atlanta for a big ole fuck you fire. I picked others but I said "this is a government thing?"

"Not really Sabrina it's more police"

"I'm hearing government in that word. Can I fuck up Atlanta? I'll take some country Georgia but you know my tribe is from Atlanta specifically. I don't want no one to get hurt though"

Tree said "i got something perfect, a Wendy's because you use to live in Ireland, too Miss Red Leg hairs in the sun"

"Alright then. Ill take you on Then. Its a done deal".

This was 2008 and to be clear, we didn't start human trafficking in that parking lot -- they already was. 12 years and they ain't stopped. We did intervene but, they dumb and stubborn and they stayed away from the Wendy's unlike the other night. For the last 12 years. This way they would be more inclined to use it. Like we bust them and they keep on. They don't care. Its greed. An addiction. They can't see. So.

I get punched in the face and I get back up and fight again. Same thing - different American Dreams.

So Spain came now Spain is over by Europe. Look at a map. And we left. From fear, we went to Florida.

We didn't have no label. We were humans. We were love. So we moved down to Tampa area.

Then we got named by the whites. The whites then fought us unlike the Spaniards who just wanted to share and we didn't want to. So we just left.

So some of us was all fuck you. We ain't moving just because Spain said we did for them don't mean we will for you. So. We fought.

Some of us were captured. So then the white people said you will show us America, The New World. Like bitch you think we know it all been all over and shit like we got cars. Fuck.

So the whites raped and tried to kill all that refused to move. So they left them. We left them. They were named Seminoles.

Because semen they were raped and we also left the old that were unable to travel. And the small kids. Two words. Semen in. Olds. Raped. Wounded. Old and children.

The rest of us took the whites and Spaniards (some did and some didn't war) across the new world.

And we followed Creeks. The Spaniards knew the rivers went North and South. They wanted to go West.

So we walked. All the way to the Middle of the United States of America. And stopped.

We said we want our land. We want our trust. We want our lives back. You go do you and leave us here and alone without you.

The Spaniards agreed. And the whites of course so fucking greedy and non cognitive. Fought.

Eventually we got our land. My family. We had a big ole 2 floor 10 room mansion. It felt like.

32 years later the government decided they wanted to build a dam. And once again. Our land was gone.

And our land was stolen.

Now that glorious home we had that my family earned to show the way West is gone. Flooded under a lake built by a dam in Oklahoma.

They moved us to Okmulgee about 45 minutes South of Tulsa.

Its not a reservation. Anyone can live there. In fact our HQ is in the city limits.

And we don't have land. We don't have anything we were promised.

Since i don't live there and i live in New Mexico, I don't get any of the benefits. And because New Mexico Native Americans warred with each other due to the Hispanics from Central America. Other Nations don't like to help me.

Here. Native American tribes in New Mexico. They're prejudice against each other. And whites.

And it's really fucking bad. I used to work at the BIA. Beaururu of Indian Affairs. "What tribe are you?" And if you were Aztec you were cool. If you were Peublo you were fighting with Navajo. And vice versa.

And we were making sure people of ALL Tribes got money for their needs. Like for medicine or transportation. And our office was fighting each other.

Like what the Hell? We all have the same purpose here. We all come from the same place, we all have the same heart and same pain. And we're all are hurt and so why are you all hurting each other?

I got a tattoo of an Indian Head on my left lower arm so no matter what unless it was long sleeves, everyone could see.

And i would hear them physically hitting each other. And they all remembered I got the tattoo and i showed them when i came back from lunch and I wss all bleeding and it was brand new.

Then i went around and showed them all as it healed. Showed them progress and lack off.

So they would fight. The Aztecs didn't put up with shit like me. And so people would try to dominate them

So i could always hear them fight. And it was a big office. An entire floor of the big Compass Bank building in Albuquerque. But I could always hear them except on the complete opposite because door ways. But three certain ladies would go to the hall and call for me to go stop it.

You know. It was the year 2000. I was only born in 1985 although I have always used a different birthday since i was adopted of 1980.

So literally I was 15 years old. "Legally" i was only 19 and not even old enough to buy alcohol and there I was pulling grammas off each other And people old enough to be my mom.

They called me a stupid white. Because I am light skinned. A stupid white nigger. I know what that is. An abusive slave owner

Me!! Me of all people!!!

I already had PTSD coming out the ass and i could barely drag my ass out of bed in the morning because i wss so suicidal depressed. And i get called a slave owner. A lazy and abusive one at that!?!

"Well i don't see you working!! You wanna call people nigger you brown ass bitch?!?! Your ass is always fighting!! Why don't you go earn a paycheck!!" She regretted running her mouth at me more than 2x. I had shoved her and when she got closer, she claimed because she couldn't hear although people from the complete opposite walls came running, i punched her in the face. Cold coked her dead to the floor. She had that evil gleam. The dead Zulululu look. That evil dumb bitch look. And no fucking way was she touching me. So then her back up who was like 7 foot tall grabbed up my hair and vagina and threw me 8 feet across the room.

I just got up and sat at my desk and pretended like nothing happened. Just like the Zulululu do. I had road rash like a mother fucker tho.

I got him later in the parking lot. Shoved him in front of a moving car at 40 mph. This girl that worked with us. A 68 mustang all real metal total steel.

He never came back to work to mess with us. And,the girl got transferred to another floor. And I got called down for her 5th fight and I interviewed the people around the fight area and they said they all worked in peace until she had come. They had whites tho.

And most New Mexico Native Americans HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE whites.

So she got fired, I recommended it. She couldn't get along with anyone. I recommended she get a job on her reservation in Montana for her tribe and so the BIA paid for her to move. Citing emotional difficulties, PTSD due to government intervention in Native American lives.

So this man he's asking for reparation in this video.

And i just want to answer him..

You never will. They were gonna fire her. Leave her dead. I asked special they send her away to a place she could likely find peace.

Nd she did. But if it wasn't for me, she would had nothing.

And she had called me a white nigger and I got thrown 8 feet across the room because of her.

I'm adding her now and him to the list. Idc if they been interviewed, its eye for an eye. They are both Zulululu and still causing fights over nothing.

I had slammed her against the wall by her throat and i wanted to kill her and i should had. But i told her "im going to do something for yoh because i hate myself more than i hate you and you will accept it. And if hou keep acting like this you will receive death more than me slamming your head on this printer until you can't breathe" then i put all the pressure I could without killing her on her throat. Then killed her anyway. Died myself went through the black hole and dragged her ass back in her body pushed the EMT OFF ME, got up and jumped on her stomach and chest full body and killed her again then this bitch tried to go to the sun, so i got her ass back. Threw her ass back in. Woke up in the fucking elevator, trying to get outta the stretcher "oh im fine where is this dam bitch"

"Oh my God! You gotta lay down!"

"Fine i bet she's not back in" got out of my body and found her hiding in the dirt.

This bitch wanted to fight?! She was gonna find me fighting her. Behind death for the rest of her life.

She was old, too. Like 46... I was only 15/19. More than twice my age. 3x my real.

I woke up in the stretcher downstairs laughing and farting. She was crying how scared she was. I thought it was funny. I was so mad I didn't care how she felt. Scared was not what i expected. It surprised me and made me laugh. I didn't know how she would feel. She never stopped fighting. Scared of me? Nah. Im just an innocent sweet babe.

So other than her, i would show people my tattoo when the fought. "You and I. You and her. We all come from the same place. We are all Indians! Look at me! My tattoo! It hurt! For no reason and I didn't want it to! Lets just get over it and heal ourselves in our souls the Indian way!"

They had saw. Some had taken photos. They knew it hurt. It swelled up. It was red. Imflammed but not infected. Like anger of the hearts.

I shouldn't had to prove we suffered

So I ask those asking or demanding reparations, please don't.

We don't all have benefits. And we have pain and suffering. And a lot is jealousy because some tribes have more than others.

If you get reparations, i fear the ramifications.

"Oh them ni**ers got shit and we didn't"

Babes. Sometimes it just time to let go.

Just let it go, baby.

I can't think of my family's land and mansion under water. Flooded. I get punched in the fucking heart. And it hurts. It hurts so bad

I ain't a piece of trash. Following a dam creek so fucking far just to climb what looked like another mountain. Fuck that.

Then they flood it. Fuck you back.

Fuck you back. Fuck you back. They said. FUCK YOU. BECAUSE YOU DIDNT WANT TO BE RAPED AND WOUNDED AND YOU TOOK US TO THE MIDDLE OF THE COUNTRY ON YOUR BARE FEET AND HALF YOU DIED ALONG THE WAY BECAUSE WE BEAT AND RAPED YOU ANYWAY. FUCK YOU BACK FOR NO REASON THAT YOU WERE ALIVE AND IN OUR NEW WORLD FIRST.

OUR NEW WORLD. FUCK YOU. PIECE OF TRASH.

Lost city of Atlantis. People look for it by Greece and shit. Its just in Oklahoma.

We came from Atlanta. "Fine this can be your new Atlas location" said the Spaniards..

But they were too nice. Christopher Columbus was too nice. Spaniards brought food and shelters. But we we're afraid of them. Their odd food, and so on. We did not know what they were. We didn't recognize any one. When we went to Florida they did go with. It was exploration to them. Running away to us. They followed, just curious.

Then we understood. They were like children playing. Innocent. They followed. They kept us safe.

They knew we were afraid once there was a ravine. Their scouts spotted it. They knew we ran our horses too fast and we would all died. They raced ahead in the night while we camped and they all stood to block us off. 100 feet from the edge they formed a line of their own bodies to stop us.

That is when we knew we could trust the Spaniards. So we went scout back to Atlanta to see what happened there. And to tell what had occurred. That our lives had been saved.

Then we took court. We camped near side them for 10 days to decide how much of our lives we should give. Reports came back that 100% trust would be accurate. And so slowly we allowed the "wapuauhaluani" to lean into the Spaniards to truly see what they were all about.

We became friends.

But the whites took over the country. And we all lost.

So I understand what my brothers and sisters and my ma's and pas and little babies in the African American community is going through.

From the eyes of my current life as a registered 1/16 Native American, 23andme says only 3%

As a person to get a tattoo to stop war after I did so many years of community work in the Black Panthers where obviously I am not black any more and I was accepted.

I know what it feels like to be white and hated.

I know what it feels like to be hated for the color of my skin.

As a white person.

But fully accepted into the black community..

So excuse me when I go to a state that has an actual African American population and I just sit and stare looking like a true jack ass.

I just feel like myself. I feel complete. And I feel accepted.

And so not all of you know me. I do work in South America and all over the globe and i treat them all the same.

Reparations, i am afraid. I know and I believe will have repercussions this day and age.

So now Altlanta. Where i am from. My tribe was all brown there. Is now black.

I don't be ignorant and hate them because they took over my town.

That's not why i say. I say because it happens to everyone else.

And so I plan to treat people all the same. We do the DNA4U paid education and quizzes. And i know its not what you ask but it is done by the Tree of Infinite Knowledge.

And right now I'm just a POW and i can't do more than what I can.

But all you beautiful people that is gonna survive. I promise you.

Every single person on this Earth has suffered.

Every single person will get rewards for living. Every thing will be okay..

I know it's not today. Today is the fight for our beautiful children in this world and ourselves.

Its not almost over yet its not just beginning.

This is the orgasm state. Orgasm. So intense and wild and pleasurable and exhausting.

What comes after? Bliss and peace.

Tree keeps telling me two to four years more

My babies, it sounds so long. But every time he says 2 years I say "Well at least it's only 2"

I ask him 3 times a week. "How long is it now?"

We are gonna be okay.

You know those books that you pick the ending? What you do effects it?

Sometimes you can do 5 different things and the ending is the same?

People. I saw call it the "plandemic"

Trust me, it's planned so hard core the black hole feels it. We will win.

I gave up my only child. She was 4 years old. In 2008. I have a clone. And her spirit comes sometimes in it. And sometimes it's other ghosts.

People were wondering why I was crying the other day when I was driving. And I didn't want to say.

My daughter is in prison now. To keep her safe. You cannot imagine the intense fear I have every single day. And I don't even understand myself as for why.

I can see my daughter and she's safe and she's happy and laughing. But... She's a divine clone. My parents made her and the evil aliens took my real daughter.

They call her Sophia. She volunteered. Well. Voluntold. She said "someone needs to fix this! I was born on Martin Luther King's (Jr) birthday of his I have a dream speech and I have a dream too! For someone to fix this!!"

And my mom said from the dead, "I have a proposal"

Like I'm screaming and already bawling but u stop myself because she goes straight out of body and stands in front of my mom.

Its so beautiful. Then it is like a horrible Disney Fairytale curse.

"So i just want you to say yes and don't think about anything and don't think about your mom. She's hurt. Remember her back is broke? Now back to Martin Luther King. Yoh can make all dreams come true. You can be the Hero for the whole entire world because your dad is a mess and you can change this from oh 47 years to about 12 what do you think about that?"

"Yes!! I do! I want that! What do you think mom?"

And i could only stare at how beautiful mu child is. And I felt the horrific horror of how the Queen or fairy God mother puts the whole town to sleep for the curse and you know i began to bawl.

In our past lives. She wasnt the brave one. She was the first born. And she was always with me. Over protective like crazy. Someone was always watching just to make sure she breathed right and had all she needed immediately. Never went out. Always had 7 layers of guards between her and the outside world.

And my mom of all people was telling her to go free and go Just walk in the front door of evil to live.

I was proud. And joyful and in complete agony.

I had to do what was right.

God didn't send his only begotten son to die on the cross. That never haoend.

But a Goddess gave birth to a girl after having sex. And the aliens that attempted to kill her on a cross, named her Jesus and wrote a shameful book about her called the Bible. With nothing but lies. And that Jesus. The real Jesus. The Only Jesus. Sent her only daughter into the pits of Earths most Evil to destroy it with dreams.

So we will all suffer for two to four more years..

For that child to allow us to finish our work.

And no one will say the word reparations again. They will simply say "thank you, I am happy with the changes"

My mom promised me and my daughter.

Due to the True Annabelle parading around as Sophia (now in my prison and went swimming with a historical sibling that was born in a lifetime different than this in their shared hall cell) we are down to two to four years as opposed to 35.

So please quit fucking with Christopher Columbus.

The statues that are being taken down by states will be placed when it's safe to do so in places Christopher Columbus loved, if that is okay with every one else.

Robert E Lee as well. Tree has already publicly listed our blessed that we were so lucky to have that ARE heros for Earth.

Obviously not all white people are bad. But they used to be. Back then. Obviously I am 95% White according to 23 and me.

We had an emergency situation. So we changed the skin of all people not on the Africa continent to white. That os on the non American side. Later after invasions we changed all our good to brown.

This way. Because the invading aliens were so power full. So #1 is protect.

So Northern Europe was changed to white from Negro in order to blend in with the invaders. This way invaders in that,area,didn't know who to kill.

So,obviously invading in Ireland was red heads and white skin.

Sweden, yellow hair and white skin.

So we instantly did that.

Then because of information they would continue to invade that area, we kept them the aliens color.

So all of us except the negros are the color of aliens.

But the Zulululu kills and invades the body with their souls. So now African color folks have alien as well as every other color..

And that is why I'm fed the fuck up.

Im killing every fucking alien i don't agree with.. We did 12 years of intensive studies. In 1994 we jailed ass holes like Trump and more. And this is the end result.

THIS IS THE APOCALYPSE..

Y'all Jesus been here 35 years.. And i want to kill myself. This Earth. I just wanna blow it up and start all over. But I'm stubborn.

And I'm PISSED the fuck off.

And i have a child willing to risk her life until age 16.

Like the damdesr Princess in the world.

So every one will get the land they are owed.

African Americans. Remember VIKINGS.. Our babies, our brothers and sisters our elderly had their land stolen.

People in Africa. The Middle East.

I had to tear down a dam wall in the middle of Germany.

Okay?

I'm here and i hate it.

[thethirteencreators-blog]

Chapter 6.5

"The idiot still isn't answering his phone? Is he working late or something?"

This would be such a simple answer and I wish I could just smile and say, "Sure! That is exactly what's keeping him!" However, I know that this is a lie and I have never been good at lying. I twitch when I lie, my lips betray me and form the most devious grin, and my voice sweetens itself to the point of me sounding like a cartoon character from the sixties. "No, he isn't working late. I walked by the café. It's closed, everyone is gone," I explain to Lyric, slapping my hand onto my knee to keep my leg from shaking. My friend purses his lips, a sign that he was either really irritated or really confused. (Good chance of it being both.) The two of us were in his studio apartment, plopped down on his couch, staring blankly at the muted television in the middle of the room. I came to Lyric's place about five minutes ago and caught him in the middle of watching the movie adaptation Hairspray for the thirtieth time. He invited me in and offered me a pop, but I declined. Caffeine was not what I needed right now. I was already jittery enough. Lyric lifts up his arms in a thoughtful gesture. "Have you tried calling his coworker?" I throw him a pointed look. "Why would I have Jasmine's phone number?" It's ridiculous for him to even assume I would have it. "I don't know. She's cute." Is he joking? I can't tell if he's joking. "Not my type. Or yours, I thought." I throw him a questioning look. Lyric chuckles, taking a sip out of a cherry colored bottle of pop. "Hey, I'm pretty open minded." In all the time I've known Lyric, he has not once actually showed any interest in another human being. When I say this, I don't mean he doesn't have romantic feelings for anyone. I mean he literally finds people the most boring beings on the planet, which is why I believe he enjoys acting so much. Up on stage, he isn't surrounded by people anymore, he says, but actors. Actors are not just people in his eyes. What they are is something so much larger with so many different layers to them. Actors are the only people he can discover any intrigue in. "Anyways," I huff, changing the subject back to a more pressing matter than Lyric's so-called open mindedness, "if Jimmy calls or shows up or you see him somewhere for some reason, tell me please? That way I will know he didn't get stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest or hit by a bus." "Why is it always a bus with you? Why can't people be hit by cars anymore?" Lyric points out, getting up from his sitting position and following me towards the front door. I stand there for a second, trying very hard to let my worry go and laugh along with him. "Jimmy is too sly to get hit by a car. If he's gonna be crushed, it'll have to be something huge," I reason, rubbing my lips together. They are so dry. When I see Jimmy, I'm gonna kick his butt for taking my lip balm. My friend reaches around my body and unlocks the door for me. "Jimmy is probably fine," Lyric assures me, his hand on my shoulder. He gives me a tight squeeze, an odd show of affection from the man who hates physical contact. I have to pause when he does this and stare, which he returns with a small smile. Lyric's smiles are so rare. He knows how much I love them. "Don't get all paranoid, man. Knowing that loser, he's probably in the drama room having dinner with his mama." "Why does having dinner with his mom make him a loser? His mom is really cool," I point out. I've never understood why kids are so anti-parent. Yes, my parents weren't perfect and spent eighty percent of their time nagging at me, but I never felt a need to shove them away. I was never ashamed of them, even if they might have been ashamed of me. During the period of time after I came out as pan to them and the day I announced I wanted to go to Broadway, they seemed a little iffy on how they felt about me. We cleared it up, though, and they went back to loving me unconditionally after the initial shock wore off. A group of blonde girls stroll by in matching purple dresses, trilling about some band they were going to see live. One of them, apparently, won free tickets off the radio and another splurged to get them a limo. Kudos for them. "His moms are pretty chill," Lyric agrees, setting his hip against the doorframe. "I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsal before class, Alto. If I receive any contact from the alien life force we know as Jimmy John, I'll let you know." "You are so weird," I laugh, listening to the sound of the door clicking shut behind me.

------*

The dorm is in an oddly tranquil state when I return home sometime around midnight. Even though Lyric instructed that I don't let paranoia overcome me, I couldn't help but wander the school grounds for a few hours. I even walked all the way to Jimmy's favorite restaurant about a mile away from the school. Sometimes he goes there in the middle of the night to get some cheap noodles. That actually has become his routine during finals. Patricia, the owner, loves him for all the business he brings her. I even went as far as to actually call his mother when all else failed. She told me that she saw him at around three and hadn't heard from him since. To avoid freaking her out, I assured her he was probably just practicing somewhere secluded, wanting privacy. There's no sign of Jimmy anywhere. No call, no text, no email... Absolutely nothing. Something happened, I know it. I can feel it in my stomach every single time I think about him; this overwhelming, aching dread repeatedly splashes over me like a bucket of blood. Wherever Jimmy is, he isn't safe. I'm almost up the first flight of stairs when I consider calling the police. This might be nothing, but I refuse to take a chance. If Jimmy really is in trouble and I did nothing to help him, I will never be able to forgive myself. "Hey, Alto!" I hear someone call. I look up and find the sweet smile of Edda waiting for me. She is worn down and borderline weak looking, but still manages to be the brightest star in the room. "You were out late." I wave her off. "Hi, Edda. I was out looking for Jimmy," I explain, playing it off as if this were nothing. There is no reason to worry anybody else. "What were you doing? Partying?" "Yikes, me?" she chuckles, slapping her hand to her chest. Edda has lived down the hall from Jimmy and I since she started here last year. The two of us have a minor friendship made up of mostly childish banter and musical references. Also, she is one of the only people who does not look ready to barf when I make a terribly wonderful pun. (For example, H-2-Oh No! When I used this on my neighbor, Madison, she looked ready to slam my head in her door. Would I have blamed her? Probably not.) It's nice having a friend who doesn't treat me like the freak I know I am. I appreciate her more than I appreciate Jimmy sometimes and that is saying mounds about our simple contact. Edda pauses on the stairs before me and gestures to the tag on her shirt. "My staff kind of bailed last minute at the paper, so I'm pretty much on my own. I just needed to run back here and pick up some photographs I forgot for the front page." Ever since the beginning of the year, Edda has been the head of our school's newspaper. She is the one who compiles it all together, writes editorials, finds leads for her team of three (counting the resident cartoonist, Kam) to follow, prints everything out, and sets up the newspaper stand in the main hall. "That sucks," I say. "It keeps me busy," Edda shrugs, adjusting a strap over her arm. "Well, I best get going. Nice seeing you, Alto." "You too," I nod, watching her descend the stairs and exit through the side door. Just as I reach into my pocket, I feel my phone start to buzz. Finally, Jimmy has messaged! I pull out my device and see his name printed across the screen. Thank god, Jimmy! I hit answer and let out a breathe of relief. "Jim-Jam, you scared me to death! Where have you..." "Heads up!" the phone cackles and I'm propelled forwards. The stairs thud beneath me with each roll until I'm at the bottom, my body trembling with pain. I lift my hands and cradle my head, attempting to recollect myself. My phone lies beside me in about three different parts. For that to have happened, the fall must have been pretty intense. "Why?" I choke out, lifting my head. The attacker is nowhere to be seen. "W-where'd you go?" I try to get up but my body refuses. Every one of my limbs feels ten times its size. I can't even move my left leg. Did I break it? Could I have broken it after only falling down half a flight of stairs? A horrible thought strikes me quite suddenly and I feel bile in my throat. What if I was right and Jimmy was hurt? Maybe the same person who did this to him is doing this to me. My shoulder stings. There's something pricking it. Before I can look, what I assume is a bag is thrown over my head. I'm engulfed in darkness for a few seconds. I don't fight it. I lay there and wait for it take me away.