#<- is this really the first post under tag ever? damn. heavy weight on my shoulders now
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OK OK HOW ABOUT....BBKAZEVA
This was really tough (I barely had any thoughts about them when you asked, I've been making most of them up as I wrote)
Somehow I think Kaz & EVA would team up most of the time to "scold" Big Boss for something he did, but the second Kaz does something wrong Big Boss is definitely supporting EVA even if he doesn't actually agree with her complaints (he'll let him know later, scoffing, and kiss him for forgiveness)
Well, I already said kazeva would ride motorbikes, so Big Boss clearly isn't an exception (not to the leather jacket/outfit and the matching helmet either)
He also gives me the impression to enjoy alone time rather than being surrounded by people, despite being in a leading position, so he's also going to isolated places with them
They kinda have to force him to write something worth reading on those postcards they send to David, if it was for him he'd just sign it as "-Boss" (not even "-Dad" smh) and call it a day (since they require his participation, otherwise he wouldn't do anything)
When it comes to the animal shelters, I feel he would pretend not to care as much as he actually does about animals, like just waiting outside while smoking his cigar, but the second he sees a Doberman, a German Shepherd (afaik the only specific breeds mentioned to be used as attack dogs in mgs) or a wolfdog (substituting actual wolves from the games) he's getting closer to pet it (depending on how doable it is, he might as well try to steal it)
He's the one who doesn't care about fashion as much as the other two, so, if anything at all, he'll only match the color palette or maybe wear a small, kinda discreet accessory (like wearing the same watch, buying the same lighter, or having a small sewn figure that matches his partners' clothing pattern, stuff like that), just so they don't bother him
Kaz and EVA are reinforcing each other's horniness just by being together, so I feel it's more likely they'll be questionably touchy in public (and I think they'd both do it to Big Boss, who's trying to keep them under control at least until they have more privacy; he doesn't like bringing any attention towards themselves)
For some reason I just imagined Big Boss buying ice-cream cones to them, so I will now accept this as his go-to way to treat them when going out; he doesn't look like the kind of man who'd buy flowers, chocolate boxes, jewelry, etc etc - ice-cream seems informal enough and a good way to keep them happy quite frequently
He also gets to have both of them licking the ice-cream in a rather indecent manner in front of him, but that's just a side effect and not his goal at all (he just wanted to cool down and eat something sweet)
Someone recently pointed out to me Big Boss seemed to show voyeuristic behaviors in mgs pw, so... These two being hornier than average... Y'know. Sometimes he just sits and watches as he smokes.
Tbh I already thought Kaz is into voyeurism and I'm not having too hard of a time imagining EVA being into that as well (just to a much lesser extent than them), so. Um. They can take turns.
And now that I accidentally ended up in this thread of thoughts - if it's the three of them, Kaz and EVA have to do most things at the same time or take turns, it doesn't work if only one of them does this or that (they'd fight) (they're into it anyway, just brings up a slighty dirtier side of them both and Big Boss is Not complaining)
I feel having EVA by his side would make it more likely for Kaz to work on music - yeah, she's not deaf and probably told him he's not much of a singer, but she'd also encourage him, maybe even sing herself, and Kaz would write little songs about things he likes about their trips and their little adventures as a throuple; I actually am not sure of what Big Boss' impression is regarding his musical skills, but I think he'd encourage him to improve himself (y'know, a very firm pat on the back and a few words while directly looking at him, then hold his jaw and a little kiss to get him going)
Now that I think of it. Big Boss seems more kinky than EVA, but less than Kaz. Do what you wish with that information
Anyway, back to the music - they visit music shops, second-hand shops from time to time and Big Boss is often forced to hold Kaz up so they can leave after several hours of him investigating all of the instruments, musicians and albums he's interested in (EVA finds this cute and enjoys seeing Big Boss holding Kaz like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder). Oh. Happens with fishing stuff too. AND trains. Specially trains.
It's kind of the same thing with EVA when they pass by a motorbike club, an exposition, motorcycle dealerships, and any other ride-related event (likewise, it's now Kaz who finds this cute and Big Boss is just the one who has to drag her out)
Since we're already doing this, they both have to drag Big Boss out when they find a gun shop (this isn't cute to either of them because he's stronger than them, he so badly wants to look at guns and he's not willing to leave). Also happens with any military or hunting related shop.
EVA sleeps between Kaz and Big Boss, who are faced towards each other. EVA just turns to one or the other depending on the day (yes, there's a really neat schedule Kaz did on Excel) (there are times they just wanna cuddle and Kaz will always click his tongue before saying "fine..." despite being more than okay with it, he's just mad the schedule is being ignored)
EVA will sometimes only wear Big Boss' shirt (which means, oversized) at home (wherever that is) - he couldn't care less about it, but Kaz finds it particularly hot and has a bit less of focus when this happens. EVA will also do this with Kaz's clothing, but it just doesn't hit the same, y'know. He likes it regardless, but the feeling is not exactly the same
Kaz is definitely teaching Big Boss how to use chopsticks. I assume EVA already knows, but I don't think she'd have the same amount of patience to teach him - she'd rather poke fun at their efforts and serve them food herself from time to time
Flirting is so ingrained in Kaz's & EVA's personalities that Big Boss sometimes asks them if they're genuinely trying to flirt with someone - they aren't, but always tease him about it when he asks
Regarding that, even though I already described kazeva as Bisexual Swingers, somehow I feel they'd remain in a closed relationship with Big Boss. I guess it'd be kind of a "just assumed that" thing, meaning Big Boss wouldn't actually mind them trying to add another person for intercourse, he simply doesn't actively look for that kind of experience (as if he doesn't already have more than enough with these two horny bastards) and they never really bring it up either (they're that infatuated I guess), just joke about it
I think EVA is the type to steal food from the other two while actively eating. Oh, we're having breakfast and I already finished? Too bad for you, I'm grabbing your marmalade toast. Out of your hand. After you already bit it. Big Boss just steals something back, but from Kaz. Kaz gets mad. He's the one who has to prepare more food. To get stolen. Again.
EVA is the one who repairs the motorbikes. Only her. You better not touch her damaged babies. It's her work. She Will hit you. She tolerates Kaz because he knows what she's talking about, but Big Boss can only help by bringing clean towels and food (and not touching anything else)
Kaz often tries to take them to hot springs whenever they visit a place with them - not just for nostalgia, but also as a way to have them completely relax for a bit
Okay, I hope this is enough!
#edit: i added some more thoughts at the end ^_^#I ran out of brainpower!#ask#txt#big boss#kazuhira miller#eva#bbkazeva#<- is this really the first post under tag ever? damn. heavy weight on my shoulders now
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LEMONADE + SHIU KONG // f!reader ( she's a sniper), smoking, mention of murder and violence, implicit smut, semi-public ( happens in a car ), little tension between them, rivals to fvck buddies dynamics, he is such a tease here. 1.3 (w.c)
special thanks to @poohbea for beta-reading. without her, i really wouldn't have posted this. i had something in mind and this is entirely different. so i said better luck next time to myself and found the courage to post this. | back to nav. | also tagging @yuujispinkhair
âYouâre not nearly as inconspicuous as you believe yourself to be.â Kong mutters off-handedly under his breath, reaching for the latch of your belt. His minty tobacco-laced breath paired with that familiar musky cologne threatens to send your nerves into a frenzy. Heâs too close for someone who claims to âjust wanted to undo your seatbeltâ. He had no reason to but he did it anyway, probably because you were asking too many questions. He could have easily pressed one of those buttons on the driverâs side door, the one that unlocks all seat belts at once. The car is fancy enough to have those kinds of luxury features anyway, but you canât help the racing of your heart when his fingers brush your skin. Itâs only when he sits back in his own seat do you register his remark. Did he just scold you? The possibility alone has you licking your bottom lip nervously.Â
Itâs not as though he never has, but given your history with him, he rarely comments on your professionalism. He has been your handler for almost a year now and has yet to actually correct or complain about the way you do your job. Heâs proud of your skills, he has to be, otherwise, he wouldnât be hiring you for every sniper-kill case he gets.
âI heard you were back in town,â he starts, tapping on his cigarette packet before taking one between his lips. âBut I couldn't contact you until I got the green light. That, and Iâve been too damn busy with the bounty offers that keep coming up.â He digs into his breast pocket to fish out a lighter, the flame flicking to life as his thumb rolls over the spark wheel. You look at him visibly confused, something he acknowledges with an amused huff. âWere you really so busy that you couldn't read the briefing I sent you?â He is definitely scolding you, but for what exactly? Trying to stay neutral in the face of his crude teasing, you let out a small breath, choosing to keep his gaze despite the nagging need to look away. Heâs changed a bit. Thereâs worry in his eyes, more than usual, eyebrows creased as he continues. âAh! I can't let you slip up now â âÂ
âWhy am I here?â You interject with a frown.Â
âWhat?â He has the audacity to look at you surprised, as if he wasnât the one to call you here again.
âThis is the third time this month youâve had me meet you⊠and in case you havenât noticed, I have a bit of a busy schedule.â Kong lets you speak for longer than ten seconds for the first time in a very long time, his bad habit of interrupting taking the backseat for once. When he doesnât answer you, you click your tongue, irritation evident in the furrow of your brow. âWhy am I here, Kong-sanâ?â
âShiu.â He corrects. Guess you spoke too soon. âAnd you still didn't answer my question. Did you or did you notââ
âI did.â You respond sourly. âAnd it told me a whole lot of nothing. Which is why I'll ask you again. Why am I here, Shiu?â Despite your irritation, the glaring fact of his contributions to your career as a sniper sits heavy on your shoulders as you sit in weighted silence. He knows it too, and never fails to bring it up every time you try to walk away, try to tell him you donât need his help. Heâs pushed you farther than anyone else ever has. Certainly, you owe it to him, but his ego is already big enough without the offer of such a confession, and you would rather put a bullet in your skull than admit that.Â
The air inside the car grows thick with smoke as he takes drag after drag of his cigarette, not that you minded, youâre a smoker yourself, but just to spite him you opened the window by your side. âIsnât it obvious?â Kong soon discards the butt out of his own window, studying you all the while, observing the mix of question and frustration that creases your forehead as your frown deepens. His lips tug up in one corner ever so slightly, too slight for anyone else to spot, but being around him as often as you have, you knew it was coming. âIâve missed you.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. What a horrible man⊠heâs toying with you.
âHilarious,â you mutter, offering him a sarcastic chuckle. He doesnât waver, doesnât look away, that small smile growing at your skepticism. The realization has your heart beating in your ears, and suddenly finding it difficult to keep his gaze.
âWant me to prove it to you?â He dips his head slightly, the leather of his seat squeaking in protest as he leans closer.
âNo.â Your reply was instantaneous but you do not move, his hand reaching to play with the necklace resting against your collarbone, the very someone he gifted you after your first successful case. âAren't we supposed to be doing a job here?â
âYou tell me. Haven't you read the briefing?â Again with the same question. He is far too calm in this situation, fingers caressing the hammering pulse that lies just below the surface of your skin. âYou werenât lying to me were youâ?â
âThis is going nowhere.â You huff, finally breaking the intense staring contest he had trapped you in, finding the courage to withdraw from his touch momentarily.Â
âIt could ifâŠâ he guides you back to him, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gaze dipping to your lips. âIf you wanted.â
You bite your lip lowering your head to hide your merriment. âLike the last time?â You ask with a knowing smile. If you wanted. Yeah. Sure. As if he didnât. Because during the âlast timeâ in question, things were entirely different. You two werenât out for a job. In fact, you were in a situation similar to this one, in his car, engaging in your usual back and forth. Itâs unclear exactly what came over you that day, but those sly eyes and that cocky smile had you seeing your handler as less of a mentor and more of the man he was. The conversation devolved into his lips against yours, his hands against your hips as he encouraged you from your seat onto his lap. Thunder rumbled the heavens and rain battered against the windshield, the perfect mask for inevitable heavy breaths and throaty moans. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, his lips, his teeth, the press of his thigh between your legs that had electricity crackling up the base of your spine. His name fogged the windows, each syllable working its way through the tresses of your mind till that was all you could utter, all that truly mattered. He reveled in that, in the way you gave yourself to him almost entirely. How your body grew hot with every caress, every thrust, every kiss. What did you even call this feeling? Neither of you knew, but it was clear that either didnât want it to stop. By the end of it, his presence spanned your body, inside and out.Â
Shiu laughs at your subtle accusation. It has the kind of warmth that reminds you of cozy mornings during winter. There is a pregnant pause after he says. âYeah.â Bobbing his head in a âyesâ. You shake your head slowly, an amused breath leaving your nose as your nerves buzz with memories past.
You sigh, assessing him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what exactly heâs hiding beneath that elaborately organized talk of his. But the man is a vault, hiding behind dark eyes that threaten to reel you in again. It has you playing with your tongue, curling it against the insides of your mouth before smacking your lips. âWas there really any job for me to begin with?â You retort.Â
Shiu Kong smiles, his carefully crafted demeanor crumbling in the face of the woman heâs slowly beginning to fall for. âThere wasnât.â He says bashfully.
â
@angelshub @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner
#shiu kong x reader#shiu kong smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#anime smut#female reader#angelshub#x female reader#x female y/n#x fem!reader#jjk s2 spoilers#shiu kong#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jjk drabbles#smut drabble#smut#smut fanfiction#smut fic#anime x female reader#anime x you#anime fanfic#kong shiu#shiu kon#cw violence#cw exhibitionism
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»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
tell me again | e. kirishimaÂ
âł tags ;; fem!reader, disgustingly tooth rotting fluff, super cliche confession scene, kinda fuckboy kiri
âł wc ;; 1.4k
âł a/n ;; sometimes you just gotta write some corny fucking romance tropes man.Â
âł plot ;; after kirishima ghosted you post your confession, you donât really plan on seeing him again. naturally when he shows up to your dorm during finals week - youâre not exactly sure what to do.Â
»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
A knock on the door of your shared dorm room startles you out of a late night study session. At this time of night and during finals week - you donât find yourself to be all that excited for whoever's at the other side. Your R.A., Iida is known for being a stickler and whatever news he brings wonât be good.Â
You look over your shoulder at Mina, who instead of studying, has been playing 2048 on her laptop for the last hour. She looks back at you with an exasperated sigh leaving her lips, promptly pushing her laptop to the side.Â
âWhy is it always me who answers the door?â she groans.Â
âBecause you chose to study business,â you reply without missing a beat. She flips her middle finger off at you without a second thought but your nose is too deeply buried into your materials for you to care.Â
The knocking gets more frantic as the seconds pass.Â
âComing!â she shouts it, irritation already filling her at whoever would be on the otherside. She swings it open, irritated beyond belief. In the midst of her preparing to cuss out whoever was on the other side at this hour, only a quarter of her sentence makes it out of her mouth.Â
âWho the hell is -,â she stumbles, pauses. The words donât even halfway make it out of her mouth before she blinks twice before stumbling back âKirishima?âÂ
At this, your head snaps up to look behind you. You know youâre not visible from the door way, your desk opposite of view but you look anyway. You canât see him but you can hear his voice.Â
âMina, hey - uh, is Y/N here? Itâs uhm.. shit, I need to,âÂ
Mina crosses her arms above her chest, blocking Kirishima when he tries to look over her shoulder. Youâre frozen in place and you think anyone in your position would be.Â
Your.. relationship with Kirishima is complicated at best. Youâd know him since you were freshman and after this semester, youâd managed to work out the courage to confess your feelings to him. You were certain he felt them back for you, ignoring his somewhat notorious reputation in hopes he was being genuine. He seemed awfully genuine to you.Â
As it would be, you were met with rejection. It hurt but you werenât worried about it either way. What you wanted was to remain friends, because Kirishima is awfully important to you. A confession shouldnâtve had made so much of a difference. You wished thatâd been the case, anyway.Â
But he.. left you like that. Left your friendship at the weird wits end where even when you saw each other on campus or elsewhere - there was no greeting. No hello or how are you. Uncomfortably, you faded into being strangers and you havenât spoken to him in months.
âSheâs not here,âÂ
Kirishimaâs face twists up at the words. He looks over, just peers and shakes his head.Â
âI can see the little colored lights that she keeps on to focus are on. I know sheâs here. Please just let me talk to her,â
Mina turns her head slightly to make eye-contact with you. You shake your head softly, uninterested in what he has to say. Your heart feels too heavy. You know itâs kind of stupid but the wound feels fresh. Never-ending in how it aches.Â
Mina doesnât budge.Â
âShe doesnât want to talk to you. Fuck off back to your dorm and leave us alone,âÂ
Mina pushes in on the door but he sighs, sticking his hand in even when she pushes in on it. He curses under his breath at the weight of it on his hand. Minaâs eyes go wide.Â
âWhat the fuck are you -âÂ
âI know you can hear so Iâll just say it, shitâ â he curses under his breath but you catch â âEven if Mina crushes my hand, please donât though. You both know I donât have health insurance,âÂ
You crack a warbly smile at the comment and Mina lets up but doesnât open the door up. She keeps her hand steady on his, letting him writhe in mild pain.Â
âI love you,âÂ
You freeze and so does Mina. Kirishima rests his forehead on the door with a soft sigh. Your heart skips a beat or two. You canât keep track.Â
âI know I fucked this up like.. really bad. When you told me you had feelings for me, at first it was.. I donât know. It was like I couldnât believe you,âÂ
You bite back tears as you listen to him. He can hear people in the rest of the dorm start to peek out but he doesnât seem to stop.
âShit, it was you. Not be corny but fuck like.. how the hell could I ever believed you liked me? Of all people, you chose me with a shitty fuckboy reputation and stupid haircut,â he laughs a little at this and so do you.Â
âKirishima..â Mina mumbles
âIt was too much. Like youâre so.. so much. But not in a bad way. Like the idea of being with you was just so damn overwhelming. And Bakugou told me not to be an idiot and ghost you but I was just so.. so scared,âÂ
You can hear the way his voice shakes.Â
âIâve never been with anyone seriously before and Iâm kind of an idiot and I didnât wanna fuck it all up. Like what if you realize half-way that itâs not me you want? What if.. what if we started dating and you realized that it was some kind of mistake?âÂ
âEijirou...â
He smiles a little. The sound of your voice is soft like he remembers. He thinks it might be worth Mina breaking his hand if he gets to see you.Â
âIt was easier to break it off before it got serious, thatâs what I thought. But then we didnât talk for a few months and I was goin fuckinâ crazy thinking about you,â â he laughs at the memory, drunk and dizzy from it â âYou donât think you can miss one person so much. That just one person could mean so much to you.. like youâre incomplete without them there,âÂ
You sniffle, wiping tears you hadnât realized had fallen from your cheeks.Â
âI think Iâm in too deep. It was already too serious. I already.. loved you. I thought itâd be better if I just fucking.. ran here and told you,â â Mina opens the door up and steps to one side as you stumble towards it, tear eyed and in loose pajamas. Not confession ready in the least â âI thought maybe Iâd get lucky and Iâd have a chance of you at least.. forgiving me. Maybe if I was really lucky, youâd still like me too,âÂ
He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at you, mouth curved into a half smile. So sincere, like always. You wonder to yourself if there would ever be a way to love him less.Â
âSo uhm.. Iâm sorry. And I love you.. and itâd be sick if you like.. loved me back but itâs not necessary. Iâll do whatever you want just.. I dunno. Be in my life again, maybe?â
You run into his arms but he catches you. Youâre a half conscious mess, sniffling into him as you punch his shoulder. He chuckles but hugs you back, wincing as you hit him.Â
âOf course I love you, you stupid asshole,â â you whine, hugging him even tighter â âYour timing is shit, yâknow that? Stupid -âÂ
He pulls back and leans into you. Lets his mouth bump into yours clumsily until you melt into a placating kiss. Itâs all too much Kirishima - a gentle swipe of tongue and sharp teeth. Sweet but not enough. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth. Heâs too good at that, you think.Â
âI know, but.. thatâs why you like me right?âÂ
You roll your eyes, opting to keep clinging to him instead of replying. From behind you, Mina sighs.Â
âIâm glad you stopped being a jackass but how the hell did you make it up here without Iida noticing,âÂ
From outside, thereâs two loud but distinct voices. Itâs Kaminari, screaming and Iida screaming back. When Mina walks over to peer outside, she catches an eyeful of a very naked and very drunk blonde. She cackles.Â
âUh.. Iâll just say I owe Kami a ton of money right mow,âÂ
»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
#kirishima x reader#bnha x reader#writing tag#this is so SO fucking cheesy#LMFAO#it was fun to write tho
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Diluc: Comfort HCs
Oh no worries anon! Weâre getting through everything and I can just see the top. Iâm not sure if people saw it - probably not - but my entire blog has devolved into âSee this genshin character? Animal.â and I refuse to have another cat character so Iâm making Diluc a hawk. Â
Apparently (maybe) Dilucâs bird is a nightingale [voicelines]. But I donât really see Diluc the kind of guy to serenade you at night in secret because your father doesnât approve of your marriage.
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Todayâs appreciation post goes to fulltimeventisimp. Tumblr throws a goddamn fit when I try to tag people (even though I literally have a tag list but thatâs apparently not good enough) so I hope you see this^^ Youâve been so nice and caring to me I feel so soft đ and I hope youâre doing alright! Iâm remembering to take breaks and rest đđ
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Semi Part 1: Relationship HCs [I would read this just for the last point]
Diluc Ver: Jealous HCs
[Masterlist]
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[taglist] Â <- if you want to be added, please read this first.
@hanniejjiâ Â @mikeysbikeâ @unionwitchâ @musekalaâ @twistedsunnshiiiâ @stanzasticâ @akaaseaâ @xoneaboveallxâ @adoring-ghostâ @asheseilerâ @childeloverâ @dilucszâ
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Diluc: Comfort HCs
Diluc has always had either an aloof or professional persona based on who he needed to talk to. In both cases, no matter the subject or how Diluc talked, there would always be some sort of forced distance so no one would mistaken it as familiarity or friendliness. There were only a two cases where he felt comfortable and those were with close friends and his staff. The third case being Kaeya but Diluc prefers to not acknowledge him and stashes that folder away. Even with friendâs such as Jean or Elzer, he could never really relax and let his true feelings slip until you burst into his life. Literally. âAn unexpected outcome of an experiment,â is what Albedo had told him but regardless, since you entered his life heâs let himself regress into his younger days and let himself take for once.
Maybe that was why you had gotten so used to Dilucâs touched starved self that, when it was suddenly gone, you were feeling uneasy. Lately Diluc seemed to be spending longer hours at his desk or working at the tavern. You knew that he was just busy and there wasnât any underhanded reasoning behind it, Diluc wasnât that kind of guy. But did he seriously have to spend every waking moment, day or night, talking to the same people? When was the last time you saw him for more than two minutes? Diluc isnât a big fan of idle talking but would it seriously hurt just to catch up? You didnât even get together to have your weekly chess matches too.
You didnât consider yourself a very clingy person and you knew what a relationship with Diluc was going to be like so why were you getting so bothered? You decided to take the situation in your hands and go visit him at the tavern only to see him so busy at work. It both made you a bit huffy, you wanted to storm in there and drag the man away from his work so he could stop trying to speed run life - not like that would ever happen because the second hand embarrassment would make you dissolve into the ground and you could never show your face to Diluc if you actually did that - but also making you more upset. Here he was, working and running his business, and you couldnât go at least a couple weeks without seeing him. You ended up turning around and going home to scream into your pillow and sleep the heavy feeling away.
Your inner turmoil seemed to seep out into the open that Kaeya felt the need to bring it up. As much as Diluc dislikes Kaeya around you, he really does care about you and he still does owe you for the troubles he gave you when you first started going out with Diluc. He catches you while youâre off running errands and manages to coax you into getting some lunch with him. Youâve been bottling up your feelings so much that when Kaeya shows some concern you let it all pour out. At this point you donât care if itâs Kaeya of all people youâre confessing your feelings to, you just want to get it off your chest because the man youâre in love with doesnât seem to notice youâre actually there and itâs making you feel insecure about yourself. Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you not to worry about it, heâll personally knock some sense into Diluc.
Dilucâs been hard at work on another possible Fatui plan and business with the winery that he canât help but feel that he was missing something. Was he overlooking something? He had planned this for a while so everything should be perfect. It wasnât until Kaeya himself had to walk in, press his hand on the tavern counter, and call him an idiot that he realizes that he had been so wrapped up in his work and personal duties that he completely neglected you. He quickly passes his duties to Charles with a quick apology, throws his coat on, gives Kaeya a very strained thank you, and heâs out the door to find you. Heâs already lost so much so heâll be damned if he looses you. Not right now.Â
You gave him the key to your home after a few months of being together, in case his he needed to temporarily hide should his night activities get the best of him. Heâs already at your door in seconds as he quickly unlocks and steps in.Â
âBeloved?â he softly calls out to not accidently scare you but he receives no reply. Itâs dark inside but he can see your shoes at the door so he knows youâre inside somewhere. He softly closes and locks the door as he hangs his coat up. Carefully running a hand down the fabric and beside your coat as he looks around your small home. Heâs always felt it was warm even when you werenât here. The âhomeâ he has will always be the place he grew up in but after everything thatâs happened, he feels a bit alienated in there so he always appreciated that you lent him a key.
He catches the sound of some shuffling and follows the sound to see you under your blankets. He breathes a quick sigh of relief that you werenât in any danger as he carefully circles around your bed before gently placing a hand on your back. Heâs never been good at words or communicating his feelings so heâs at a bit of a standstill. Despite his reputation of being a nobleman of high esteem, youâre his first serious relationship. As far as heâs concerned youâre going to be his only relationship for that matter.
âI...apologize for my recent behaviour. It was never my intention to hurt you. I ended up letting myself get too blinded to see you were in pain and that was my fault. You donât have to forgive me now but wonât you let me see your face my love?â he asked in all his awkward pose, put him in front of massive event and heâll perform with flying colours but put him in front of his partner and he stumbles over his worlds like a new born fawn. But it seems to bring a small laugh from you as you peek from under the covers.Â
He smiles softly as he sees your ears flush pink. No matter how many times he calls you that you always get so shy, he adores it. But he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest, youâve always been there to support and reassure him that he was doing everything right. That things were going to be okay when he re-took his fatherâs business and you would be with him every step of the way. So in the best and awkward way that Diluc can manage, he tells you this. By the time heâs done he can feel his own face start to pink but itâs made you feel better so it was worth it.Â
âFeeling better?â he smiles softly as you nod up at him as he lays down beside you, opening his arms in comfort, âGood, come here.âÂ
You shuffle closer to him as he holds you. Itâs been awhile since heâs held you like this and even without realizing it, heâs missed this. Just you and him together, basking in each otherâs presence. No work that needed to be attended to. No Fatui trying to cause him any more trouble. It was a safe place and one he didnât want to let go. Â
âWhat if we got married?â
Thereâs a beat of silence.Â
Then a thud.Â
You end up scrambling and falling off your bed face first. Itâs a bit silent as you give off a pain groaned and climb back up and he can see your face has exploded red. He can almost see steam coming off as you try and nurse your nose. He blinks a bit at you taken aback as you stutter and scream into your hands as your brain seems to process what he just asked. You lift your face from your hands to look at him, somehow go even redder, and scream louder into your hands. Heâs not sure if this is something he should be offended or concerned about but the weight he had been feeling earlier starts to fade away as a new and familiar feeling bubbles up. For the first time in half a month, Diluc letâs out a laugh as he tries to console you as you manage out a yes.
---
Gripping my writing hand why is no one stopping me? Diluc youâre literally acting like Childe rn. [if anyone is confused ahem Childe: FiancĂ© HCs (should be in my masterlist)]
Also, I continue to look away from the lore. Kaeya and Diluc are not on the best of terms but if they can have petty rich lady wine talk then Kaeya can walk in and call Diluc an idiot.
I was serious when I said that I researched hawk behaviours. I have learned the internet is horrible in telling me how hawks behave. But I did find this and I found this hilarious:
In the case of the red-tailed hawk, for example, the pair soar, screaming at each other; then the male dives at the female, who may roll in the air to present her claws to him in mock combat.
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin fanfic#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin diluc#genshin impact diluc#genshin diluc x reader#genshin impact diluc x reader#diluc x reader#diluc x lumine#diluc x aether#diluc headcanons#diluc ragnvindr#diluc imagines
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summary:Â you and chan follow a routine every night. tonightâs different.Â
pairing:Â bang chan x female readerÂ
word count: 3.1k
genre: angst, like Extreme Angstâąïž, college!au, established relationship
warnings: a lot of swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of sex ( oh and btw, this is not beta read. we die like men)
note: omg? finally? i got to write something and now iâm posting it on here? confidently??? who is she, we donât know her! enough jokes though, this is my first fic ever thatâs going to be posted on this platform, so iâm excited! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome đđ»đđ».Â
tagged â€ïž: @popisdead @hanflix
ËË°âą*ââ· masterlist
itâs become routine at this point.Â
when chan sees your roomâs light turn off, itâs a signal that your roommates are now headed to bed and that youâre ready to come out and meet him. itâs been a busy few months for the both of you and the nights were the only time you two could meet. heâs a business major working on his business proposals for the semester and youâre a performing arts student, preparing for this semesterâs art production. saying it was hard to make time to see each other was an understatement. nevertheless, you two made sure you still met, may it be only for a few minutes. some nights you were lucky, being able to meet for an hour or so. nights were reserved for chan and for chan only.Â
after putting on your coat, you reached out for the door knob as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. âare you coming or not? iâm freezingâ you sigh softly.
the first few nights were fun, you have to admit. impromptu grocery shopping for the both of your food supplies for rest of the week, a few make out sessions here and there, and sometimes, leading to even more if you both were lucky enough. it gave you a high you never thought you would ever come down from. whenever he kissed you after a long day, you felt as if the weight on your shoulders fell off, even for just a moment. whenever chan held you in his arms and told you it was going to be okay, your chest loosened, even for just a moment. chan was the calm in the chaos and when you were in his car, holding his hand and feeling his lips lingering on yours, he provided the needed break you longed for during the day.
but, as the days and weeks passed by, the nights became shorter and quieter. rides became quicker and the good conversations slowly turned into mere small talk. no longer would he give you soft touches, no longer would he ask how your day went, and no longer would chan look at you the way he did before. no more i love youâs, no more second glances when he dropped you off at your dorm during the early hours of the morning. you excused the change of behavior as the result of your fatigue in school. the change was expected, you always told yourself.
itâs become a mantra now, something you repeated to yourself as you lied in bed at night, a routine. a routine.Â
you close your eyes for a moment as you twist the doorknob to open the door. you focus on your phone again as soon as you got out of your dorm. âcoming."
you spotted chanâs car a mile away. before, he would put the window down to greet you, a soft smile spreading across his face. now, you were faced with the carâs tinted windows, your reflection staring back at you as you wrapped your fingers around the handle of the car door. you heard the lock click.Â
âhey,â you mumbled. you heard a soft hum in response. you quietly put the seatbelt on, relaxing your back on the seat as you stared ahead. chan was on his phone, seatbelt off. light from his phone illuminated his features. the bags under his eyes were a little bit more prominent than the last time you noticed. you wonder if heâs been eating, getting enough sleep, but you werenât in the position to ask now. not when frustration is starting to boil in your chest. Â
you didnât know if you should call him out. it was his way to unwind as well, but then again, he was there to pick you up for a short date. this was the only time you both had for yourselves, yet here he was, texting away on his phone. this shouldnât annoy you as much as it does now because chan does this whenever he was waiting.Â
âhey,â you repeat louder. chan looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised.Â
âyes?â he asks, turning his phone off. the two of you are surrounded in darkness, with only the light from the lamp posts outside lighting the interior of the car.Â
âwhat do you mean, âyes?â are you serious?â chan furrows his eyebrows at your words as he straps himself in. he turns to you, blinking. you suck in a breath.Â
âthis is the only time we get to spend together and youâre on your phone? are you serââ
âiâm sorry. there,â he breathes, âcan we move past this? iâm not in the mood to fight.â he interrupts. you open your mouth to say something back, but youâre cut off by the movement of the car.Â
the air inside the car was heavy, heavier than usual. sure, you and chan had a couple of unresolved fights the other nights and sure, you spent you early mornings crying over him, but it should have been resolved with the few kisses he gives you, right? then why are you so upset now? chan makes amends, tells you heâs sorry for raising his voice, for ignoring you the whole day. he was busy, right? of course heâll end up not texting you. he kisses the pain away, even though heâs the reason for said pain. he talks his way out and if he avoids the topic of the fight, you wouldnât mind. that was the routine. but not tonight, apparently.Â
âyouâre always not in the mood.â you whisper, crossing your arms in front of your chest. you watch the trees outside of the car starting to blur as chanâs driving sped up. this night will end as quick as it started, you thought. you hear a sigh beside you.Â
âi justââ chan starts, âi canât fight anymore, y/n. iâm tired.â
âand you think iâm not?â you answer back, looking at the man beside you, âgod, we never talk anymore, chan. all we ever do is fuck the pain away andââ
youâre cut off by the sight of chanâs knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel. you almost donât see the way he clenches his jaw. he pulls the car over at the side of the road and for a second, you think you two will be able to finally talk about your issues, the problems that were never muttered, but still plagued your relationship. god knows you wanted to hear from him, anythingâ fuck, just anything to finally resolve it, fix it. to finally end the routine you both had. but that hope shatters as soon as his mouth opens.Â
âwhat do you want me to say? weâve been okay, weâve been finââ
you let out an exasperated sigh, eyes meeting his, âwe arenât fine, chan, we havenât beeââ
âwhat do you mean?â chan questions. he removes his seatbelt to turn to you. a gentleman he still was, even though you knew he was avoiding the topic. again. âfuck, what do you want me to say? i was on the phone. how does that merit a full blown arguââ
âitâs not about the damn phone!â you exclaim, finally feeling the frustration in your chest blow over.Â
were you going crazy? why didnât he see the changes? doesnât he feel the frustration? were you the only one feeling this way, then? does he feel that everything was okay or were you that good at acting that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong? you run a hand down your face as you try to collect yourself. the car became quiet, as always. chan was never really vocal about things like this and let you do the talking. maybe this is why issues were never resolved.Â
âthen, what is it about?â chan mumbles, eyes never leaving your form. you let out a soft scoff.
"what is it abouâare you kidding me? are you fucking with me?âchan raises an eyebrow in response, furrowing it afterwards. he lets out a sarcastic laugh after a few beats of silence. he shook his head as he turned to face the road again.Â
âis this fight going to last all night? if so, iâd rather just drop you off,â he starts to put his seatbelt on, "we can continue our date when youâre not this moody."
and at that moment, your world nearly stops. the silence in the car was loud and the tension, if you could see it, could be cut with a knife. his words echo in your mind as the car starts moving again, chan preparing to make a u-turn to go back in the direction of your dorm.Â
ânot...this...moody?â you repeat to yourself. chan nonchalantly hums in response.Â
you couldnât even look at this man anymore. it was as if you didnât know him anymore. he carried the name of your boyfriend, but was he really the chan you knew? the chan you knew wonât be able to say these things to you, let alone treat you like this. you feel like a deer in headlights, shocked at how everything led up to this moment. and to think that the turning point of your relationship was something as simple as chan being on his phone. you closed your eyes as you tried to fight the lump forming in your throat.Â
âso, what am i supposed to do?â you ask. "just go home and think about what i did? what i said?â
chan shrugs. he shrugs. you couldnât believe how he didnât take this conversation seriously. was it because youâve been in this exact same situation before? sure, fights have been frequent, but were they frequent to the point that chan just straight up ignored them? to the point that he never brought the topics up again? no effort to try and fix it?
was he that tired that he was willing to let everything pass? let you suffer in silence?Â
âstop the car,â you whisper shakily. chan doesnât listen, though. he never does, he rarely does. he never listens anymore.Â
âchan, please stop the car,â you feel stupid begging, but that does it. he stops the car again, your dorm building in sight. his knuckles start to turn white again, but he closes his eyes this time. you hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose.Â
âi canât fight anymore, y/n, please, just...we can fix it tomorrow, whatever it is.â
you let out a soft sob at his words. âchan, you always say that, god, you always say that.â
chan grips his steering wheel tighter. âyes, i do, but we always fix it. we always end up fixing it.â
âno, we fucking donât!â you scream now, releasing the frustration that has been clawing to come out, âno, we donât fix things, we fuck it away and we pray that things magically turn okay in the morning, but it never does! it never fucking does!â
chan stays quiet, eyes drifting to the car floor. you wish you could know what he was thinking. you wish he would talk to you, tell you what he really felt instead of just sitting there. god, were you tired. you were tired of pretending things were okay when they arenât. you were tired of telling yourself it would be fixed, that the relationship would go back to normal, but it never does. and you just somehow have to live with it because thatâs how it is with you and him. thatâs the routine, right? and even though you hated it, you tolerated it because you loved him. but people will reach an end point, one way or the other. you canât help but feel that this was yours.Â
âloving you is so exhausting, chan, iââ your voice cracks, âiâm supposed to be content with this treatment? you and i not talking the whole day and then meeting at night just to make up for lost time, have sex, and pretend that everythingâs okay, that the fights have not gotten out of hand, that weâre going to be okââ
âwe are going to be okay, fuck, itâs not that easy,â chan mumbles, âiâm trying, y/n, but i canât give you everything you need, not anymore.â
silence fills the car and it engulfs the two of you.Â
"what changed?" you sob softly, tears now slowly flowing down your cheeks. it was okay, a few weeks ago. days became busier, tasks became heavier, but did that mean that your relationship had to deteriorate the way it has been?Â
ânothing changed, please, y/n,âchan breathes, not turning to look at you, âwe just got busier andâ"
âwe werenât like this, chan, we used to talk about things. w-we used to...talk. we canât even do that now? am i asking for too much? i shouldnât be begging for your time, chan, pleaseââyou cry out softly. âwhy am i always second to you, chan? i try to be the best for you, chan, please.â
chan lets out a shaky breath as he tries to find the words to respond with. ây/n, itâs not yââ
âspare me the bullshit. spare me the "itâs not you, itâs meâ. at least, be honest with me.â you say firmly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks harshly.Â
âi...i just donât feel like iâm ready for this yet, okay? i want to foâ"
your feel something in your chest. a pain youâve never felt before. chanâs words become a blur as you feel your back hit the seat.Â
youâre taken back to a time in your childhood when you were trying out the jump rope your friends had. being the idiot you were, you jumped in time with the rope and it tangled on your feet. you ended up falling on your chin, scraping it in the process. the pain rang through your skull and for a while, you couldnât move, tears merely streaming down your cheeks. and to that that one time during one of the art productions in university, you ended up falling off of the stage. of course, it wasnât anyoneâs fault, but maybe if they turned on the lights before lowering the stage, you wouldnât have broken your ankle. you remember how worried chan was, but most importantly, you remember how much it hurt. you couldnât walk and if you tried, it would shoot pain up your leg.Â
adding all the pain youâve felt in all those moments, it wouldnât amount to the pain you feel now.Â
not ready? not ready after 3 years? how could he say that? this was the man you saw your future with, someone who was supposed to be your soulmate. that was him, that was chan. the nights you shared, the words you uttered, were all those fake? were all those just to make everything feel okay?Â
not ready?Â
not ready.
the words echo in your mind like a broken record. were you supposed to beg him to stay? beg him to be ready when he just admitted that he wasnât? as you turned to look at him, you didnât see the chan who loved you. instead, it was the shell of the man who used to love you, care for you. fuck, was love supposed to hurt this bad? you feel your heart starting to crack even more.
if this was love, you didnât want it. not anymore.
âdrop me off,âyou mumble after a deafening silence, voice shaking as a sob threatens to come out of your mouth. chan turns to look at you, finally. you donât meet his eyes anymore. you, instead, just look straight ahead. if he wasnât ready for a commitment, even after 3 long years, then you were not about to beg him to stay. chan opens his mouth to say something, but you notice that he just swallows his words. he turns to look in front of him as he pushes on the gas again to drive back to your dorm. if he wasnât ready, then he wasnât ready. thereâs no point in trying to convince him he is. the next best thing is to leave and let him figure out what he needed to figure out. if he needed space, he could have told you. what bothered you the most is the fact that chanâs always been about communication, but somehow and somewhere along the journey, he changed. maybe thatâs just how it goes.Â
when he pulls up in front of your dorm building, chan turns to look at you again, eyes scanning your features. âiâll see you tomorrow, then?â
you shake your head, eyes closing as you tried to fight the urge to cry again. the question he asked has always confused you. it was always like this, that even after a fight, he expects to see you again, the same time, the same place. you were tired and it didnât help that you now knew why he wasnât acting the sameâ he wasnât ready to commit to you, even after all this time.Â
âiâm ending it here, chan."
âending what?â
ending the routine, ending the cycle, ending us. these words rang through your head and you didnât know which to answer. was he acting aloof so that he could get off easily? that maybe youâll let him off again because he somehow canât understand what was happening? you swallowed.Â
âus, chan, iâi canât go on like this anymore,â you pause. was this what you really wanted or were you doing this to prove a point? you werenât sure, but one thingâs clear, you had to do this, not only for him, but for you. you canât subject yourself to this cycle anymore. you had to break it sooner or later. âwhen i get out of this car, weâre over."
chanâs car became a place of love and security in a world full of uncertainty and chaos. it was where you both spent time together when you needed a break, when you needed to be together. now, it was a place of loneliness and despair. it became a place full of resentment and unresolved issues and you canât help but wonder how chan will be able to sit in his car again without thinking of this moment. before he could respond, you were out of the car.Â
in the back of your mind, you hoped that he would call you, run after you. beg you to stay, tell you that everything will be fixed if you just gave him time. you prayed in your head desperately. if he did so, you know youâll come crawling back to him. if he showed some sort of care, some sort of longing, some sort of initiative that he wanted things to work out, that he wanted this as much as you do, then maybe youâll come back to him again. thatâs how it always was, right?
right?
behind you, you hear the car drive away.
#stray kids#bang chan au#bang chan x reader#skz#college!au#bang chan#the way i sobbed while writing this is criminal#kpop scenarios#kpop#skz imagines#bang chan angst#skz chan#skz angst#thanks for reading!!#kim tries to write#archive#stray kids imagines#skzstorynet
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Trial and Error (Derek x Reader)
A/N: This has been something living in my brain for a while, and I decided to get it out, along with 5 prompts.
I do not own Teen Wolf or itâs characters. Sadly.
Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx and @mymonandsymon for looking this over for me!
Warnings: Some language. As close to smut as I write, (If you squint.) Mostly just fluff, though.
Word count: 1,646
Anon said: â"I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offence, your personality needs a lot of work."â
Anon said: âCan you do 93 & 99 w/ derek hale pls :) thank you!â
(93. âForget it. You fucking suck.â
99. âDonât be an asshole. Asshole.â)
Anon said: âHello! I was wondering if you would be willing to do numbers 8 and 101 with Derek Hale from the the most recent list you have posted? If not itâs okay, thank you â€ïžâ
(8. âYou didnât just wake me up at 2am because you were âin the moodâ.â
101. âYou got a cute butt.â)
Xxx
Youâd barely made it into the loft before you were pinned up against the far wall, Derek holding your hands up on either side of your head at the wrists, his grip much tighter than it should be, but not as much as it could be.
âI thought I told you to stay on your side of the city,â he hissed out, face inches from yours, eyes glowing red, and a low growl rumbling in his chest.
His eyebrows knit in confusion at your smirk, his body pressing against yours as you made a halfhearted effort to push you both off the wall.
Rolling your eyes, you let out a breathy chuckle, which only made him cock one eyebrow up in either amusement or disbelief, you werenât sure.
âWhat the hell is so funny?â He asked, both his tone and his weight easing up a bit.
His mistake.
âOh, nothing,â you mused, looking up and away from him for a few seconds before flipping you both around, holding him pinned against the wall in the same position, your own eyes glowing their bright red as he let out an annoyed snarl. âJust thinking about how things can change in an instantâŠ.â
The breath was knocked out of you as you once again were pinned to the wall, this time his weight almost fully against you to keep you still. âWhat do you want?â He ground out through clenched teeth.
You couldnât help thinking that the two of you would have been great friends if it werenât for both of you being Alphaâs. Pack rivalry and whatnot overriding much of any chance at getting any closer than you were now, which given your position physically, was actually pretty damn close.
Baby steps.
âI have an idea,â you began after letting out a huff. Resigned to being stuck against the wall, you relaxed a bit, deciding to try and placate the Big Bad Sourwolf instead of poking him with a metaphorical stick, no matter how fun the latter was. âIt would save both of our packs a lot of hassle, and probably save some innocent lives, too, come to think of it-â
âNo,â he said firmly, his hold relaxing just a bit.
You looked at him in shock. âYou havenât even heard-â
âI said no!â His voice just as firm as before, he pushed off the wall for emphasis, your body relaxing just slightly, and you rubbed your wrists, despite the fact they were already pretty much healed.
âIâm just trying to be a good leader, Derek, offering you peace and my help for both our sakes and our packs, but because of whatever vendetta you have for me, youâre not willing to listen. Well, you know what? Forget it. You fucking suck.â
Stalking toward the loft door, Derek grabbed your elbow firmly and lightly tugged you to face him, making you roll your eyes again. âWhat, Hale?â
âI know. Look, Iâm sorry. I really donât know what it is I donât like about you, I just donât.â
âGee, thanks,â you mumbled, looking down at your feet as you fiddled them absently.
Grabbing your shoulders to make you stand still again, you straightened your back and looked him in the eye. It wasnât the gesture that caught your attention, but the gentleness in it. A new side of Derek Hale had just showed itself, a side you always thought was there, but never got to see, except when he was interacting with his pack.
Very small baby steps.
âBut,â he continued pointedly, âIâm willing to put that all aside to listen, for our packs and everyone involved.â
âYouâll really hear me out?â You hated how small your voice sounded.
âIâll try my hardest.â He smiled a real, genuine smile, and you felt some of the ice crack between you two.
You returned the grin with a small one of your own, before finally saying, âDonât be an asshole. Asshole.â
Derek laughed, and let go of your shoulders, walking back into the loft, and after a few seconds, you followed him. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked and said, âIâm just trying to be nice.â
You scoffed, then let out a chuckle. "I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offense, your personality needs a lot of work."
Sitting on the couch, he spread his arm out in gesture to the open spot beside him, his own smirk still firmly in place. âSo Iâve been told.â
Xxx
Waking up to the wee hours of the morning and a silent loft, you looked around bleary eyed. Once you realized where you were, and who was with you, your eyes went wide.
Laying on the far end of the couch, his legs tangling with yours in the middle at some point while you were both asleep, was Derek, head propped up on the arm of the couch, mouth wide open as a snore escaped him.
You couldnât contain the giggle from the completely uncharacteristic image of the big bad Hale Alpha, and turned into the couch cushion to smother the sound.
It was only a second later you looked back, but you still jumped as now Derek was looking at you with one eye barely cracked open, his mouth closed in a tight line, but his eyebrow raised in what you now understood was amusement.
Lightly swatting his leg with your own, he said a mock âowâ, but neither of you untangled your legs.
Propping your elbows on the arm of the couch behind you, you glared at him. âDonât scare me like that!â
âDidnât anyone ever tell you itâs not polite to stare?â
You swatted at his legs again, and he did the same, both of you grinning lightly.
âDid the alarm go off or something?â He lazily looked to a box on the wall that must have been some sort of baddie alarm, his hand going to the back of his neck to scratch sleepily. Contented with what he saw, he looked back at you, stilling, hand still on his neck. âWhat?â
âWhy do you assume I woke you on purpose? Why would I put myself in a position to endure even more of your company than I have already had today, which, by the way, is I think more than we have had at once ever?â
He grinned. âYou didnât just wake me up at 2am because you were âin the moodâ.â
You shrugged, smirking right back at him. âYou got a cute butt.â
âWhy, thank you,â he said cheekily, his grin doing the same.
Batting his legs again lightly, you heard him mutter, âOkay, thatâs it,â and you suddenly found yourself pulled toward him, until you were basically straddling him, your wrists once again tightly held in his hands.
âStop doing that.â His voice was firm, but soft. His eyes searched your face, but for what, you didnât know.
Digging your knees into his rib cage, just as some sort of retaliation, he groaned softly at the pressure. You leaned down close to his face and whispered, âMake me.â
Suddenly faster than you could blink, your positions had been flipped, him now straddling you, holding you down. âOkay.â
Trying to fight back, you quickly gave up, huffing, much like earlier in the day, looking up at him with a less than enthusiastic look.
Searching your face again with his eyes, he finally landed on your gaze with knit eyebrows.
Raising yours in question, he let go of your wrists, but you left them beside your head, and he sat back on his haunches, your legs still under him.
âIâm trying to figure out what it is about you that drives me so crazy.â
âI have that effect on lots of people,â you said smugly. âIâm awesome like that.â
âThat! Thatâs it.â He pointed at you, and you sat up, elbows once again on the arm of the couch, eyebrows once again raised in confusion. âYeah, you drive me crazy, but Iâm starting to think itâs not because we hate each other or annoy each other-â
âAre you sure? Because youâre kinda driving me insane just a little bit right now-â
He leaned back over you on your perch on the armrest, face closer than it ever had been, and you found yourself staring at his lips. âAm I?â
If it hadnât been the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice with those last two words did it. Your eyes drifted shut when he finally met you with a kiss, surprisingly soft and tentative given the tension between you two.
But that was just the first one.
Pulling back just enough to look at you one more time, something was exchanged between you without words and you both surged forward in a heated kiss.
Slowly laying back down all the way, your hands briefly in his hair to make sure this never stopped, pulling him with you, his hands grabbed your wrists putting them by your head like before, but this time trailing his fingers lightly from your elbows up to your hands, fingers tangling with yours as he held your hands.
Instead of restricting, his weight now felt warm, and inviting, and the more of it you felt, the more you wanted.
Turning your head to the side, you had a small grin on your face, but it soon turned into a soft gasp as you felt his lips ghosting ever so lightly over your skin, working from your collarbone, up your neck, and to your ear, where he bit the lobe gently.
When he released it after a second, you turned your head to look at him, lips barely touching one anotherâs, foreheads pressed together, and heavy breaths being shared, almost as if the breath one was breathing out was what the other required to live.
Xxx
Tags: @mayahart02 @palaiasaurus64 @shydinosaurcandy @lucyqueenofthestars @c-breanne1999 @l4life @ethereallysimple Whatâs this?
#derek hale#derek hale imagine#derek hale x reader#derek hale x reader imagine#derek hale x reader insert#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf#tw imagine#teen wolf reader insert#teen wolf x reader insert#teen wolf x reader#teen wolf fluff#tw fluff#fluff#tw#pack imagine#pack x reader#pack x reader insert#my mind spins stories
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Marry My Lover (Bryce x Eleanor Proposal Headcanon)
A/N: Well, I thought I wouldn't do it because I was too invested with this fic, but I've been thinking adult life is so fucking hard that maybe I'll never find the time and inspo to finish this fic, so... well, why not realease it to the world as headcanon/very-poorly-written-fic. If later I find the inspo, maybe I'll write it, maybe not, but I think posting this will lift a heavy weight off me.
Please forgive me my grammar mistakes and poor english, I mean, I know it's not poor, but I went really basic here, other way I would've never finished writing this lol
Tagging my WYR readers, in case you're interested in reading this @curiousconch @romereadingshop @utterlyinevitable @lahellacute @chocopeppermintcake
Also this is sumbission for @openheartfanfics Weekly Trope Challenge, week 2: Weddings & Proposals (@openheartheadcanons)
Marry My Lover
Bryce had wanted to propose to Eleanor for a while, considering both spontaneous and prepared ways to do it.
One of the first ideas was proposing on a visit to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, as it was the place of their first date. But none of their shifts let them assist for a couple of weeks, so he decided to look for something less complicated.
As he saw their annual meeting with the gang was coming, he decided he would propose on that occasion. Surrounded by friends, the people who helped them get together and supported them in the most difficult times both personally and as a couple.
So he would propose at Donahueâs. With a song, no less. Marry Me by Bruno Mars. A cheerful song, Eleanor loved Bruno Mars and simply matched with the tone he wanted to have on the proposal. Happy and spectacular. He wanted to make her feel the luckiest, most loved woman on earth.
So when he decided what he would do, he shared the news with Sienna so she could help him orchestrate the event. He would arrive a bit later than Eleanor, Sienna would keep her distracted, and then whoop, Bryce would appear at the center of the bar singing the song.
On the day of the meeting, Bryce was in the locker room when he received a text from Sienna: âAll set, B! Weâre waiting for youâ. He breathed deeply, excited and a bit nervous at the same time.
They had talked about marriage, about a life together thousands of times, but it was different just taking the step and doing it, of proposing marriage. Marriage. Damn.
But at the same time, it was just a confirmation of the love they had for each other. Their love that had grown exponentially, to unknown highs and depths in the three years they had been together, and he was sure that their love would keep growing and getting stronger with each day.
After getting ready, he texted Keiki: âHey Keiks, are you there already?â âOh, yeah, hidden in the parking lot, super spy.â âAwesome, Iâm coming out of the locker room Iâll be there in fiveâ âOkayâ
Bryce didnât want her to miss it for the world. Keiki would kill him if he let that happen. Luckily for both Bryce and Keiki, she was studying close to home, more than close. Cambridge. BS in Physics at MIT, so as she was living just a few minutes away from Boston, they saw each other pretty regularly, once a week or once every two weeks depending on how busy the three were.
Keiki was excited about it, but there was just this strange smirk on her. Bryce thought it was just the fact that her brother would propose to Eleanor at last.
Once at the bar, he greeted their friends, Elijah, coming from Chicago, Jackie, from Baltimore, and Sienna coming from New York. Aurora was the only one living in Boston, working at Brigham and Womenâs Hospital as attending and part of the new Diagnostic Team there.
Everyone was happy but at the same time with this strange smirk, like they were hiding something.
âAnd Elle?â he asked.
A few moments after the question was made, a guitar started to play. He looked at the center of the bar, and found Eleanor, on a yellow dress, and matched hatband playing guitar and singing: We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
Bryce couldnât believe his eyes. His ears. His skin. How a shiver ran down his spine, making tingle every inch of him; how his stomach fluttered at the sight of her there, beautiful and singing and⊠Surprising him.
It was Lover by Taylor Swift, because, how not, his girlfriend was a Swiftie since High School, so once a Swiftie, always a Swiftie.
Bryce knew almost every song of the last two albums she had released in the last couple of years because they had blasted the speakers of their home for weeks. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah Take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my lover
After singing the chorus, Eleanor handed the guitar to Rafael, who continued with the melody, and took the mic in one hand, singing the second verse as she started walking slowly towards him. We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call She took his hand on hers and softly pulled him to the center of the bar
And when Eleanor sang âAnd I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants youâ, both chuckled knowingly, because they knew how true that was, wherever he goes, he enchants.
I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all
It had been three summers indeed and nor he or she couldnât imagine a summer without each other.
Eleanor kept singing, every word with meaning, it was like the song was written for them, especially âI take this magnetic force of a man to be my loverâ Because who else on this planet was a magnetic force but him?
Bryce was beaming the whole song, smiling, laughing, biting his lip, showing how happy, flattered, incredulous and in love he was.
He couldnât believe his luck. To this day, after more than three years, sometimes he still couldnât believe he had the chance to love so much and be so loved. So happy, so free, so understood. And he would probably live this luck, this love, forever and ever with her.
When the song ended, Eleanor took out something from the pocket of her yellow dress. A velvet box. When she opened it, a silver ring with a diamond at the center shined under the multicolor lights of the bar. Eleanor took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles softly before asking: âBryce Lahela, mi amor, we both know we want to spend the rest of our lives together. In these three years you have made me nothing but happy. The happiest luckiest woman alive. I want that for the rest of our lives. Would you marry me?â
âYes,â he said, eyes sparkling, shining so bright with emotions, with love, with adoration, with happiness, âYes, babe, yes! The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life with you!â
Everyone cheered, Sienna was crying, Kyra too, and even Keiki had shed a tear.
Eleanor put a ring on his finger and both kissed sweetly in the middle of the bar.
After a few moments, Bryce kissed her hand and chuckled, âWell, now itâs my turn.â
Eleanor stared confused at him, and when she heard him shouting âMĂșsica maestro!â she understood.
Eleanor couldn't believe it either. When the notes of Marry Me by Bruno Mars started playing, she covered her mouth with her hands just like Cecilia Bolocco when she won Miss Universe in 1986. âNo way, love!â she squealed.
After a few verses, Bryce took her hand and turned her to the wall, where a video was playing. Videos of colleagues, nurses, even patients, with thumbs up singing along âDon't say no, no, no, no, no, Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahâ Then, her parents showed up in the video, beaming as they sang along too. Even her grandparents from Chile, Ricardo and Ofelia, appeared in the video asking the same.â âOh my god,â Eleanor couldn't hold it anymore and simply let the tears fall. Tears of joy, of happiness.
Then Bryce started to walk around the bar, singing with a persuasive tone, asking the patrons to join him in his singing, as if he had to convince her to marry him. Friendly patrons would nod and show their thumbs up and sing along for a couple of seconds.
Once the song ended, Bryce bend on one knee and took the velvet box out of the pocket of his pants, where a beautiful rose gold ring was there, with a round diamond at the center and smaller at the sides. âWell, you won me. This was my idea too, but you were faster, or maybe you had friends who took your side and decided to help you instead of me.â Everyone chuckled. âOr maybe she just asked before you did,â Jackie teased. âEither way, Iâm honored and flattered, but I couldnât miss the opportunity to propose to you. I mean, Iâve dreamed about this day practically since I met you.â âAwww, mi amor.â âI want all summers with you and all winters, especially winters so you can keep me warm on snowy nights.â Eleanor giggled, her eyes full of tenderness, âOf course, my love. Summer, fall, winter, spring, all of the seasons and all of the years I have left on this planet.â âGood. And you, Eleanor Andrea Bloom, would you marry me?â âYes, my love, mi amor, sĂ, sĂ, yes!â Bryce put the ring on her finger, and again, people cheered and clapped. Keiki and Jackie whistled.
When Bryce and Eleanor got off the stage, the gang approached them, filling them with congratulations and hugs, and just love for the happy, recently-engaged couple. they disclosed how everything had happened -Eleanor indeed had asked help first, she had been practicing guitar for more than a month with the help of Rafael.
After a while, Bryce took Eleanorâs hand and led her to a quiet place so they could have a moment for themselves. They smiled and laughed without saying anything, still processing what had happened and trying to understand the happiness they were feeling. their hearts were simply overflowing with happiness and love. âYou know? I can say people, mostly women, have asked me a lot of things in my life, some of them shocking, some of them rather cute, but never had a woman proposing to me, so this is a first. You're definitely a keeper.â âOh, that's why you're agreeing to marry me?â she asked, feigning offense. âOne of the four hundred million reasons, babe.â Eleanor smiled pensively, earnest, âYou deserve everything, my love, everything. And that includes being proposed, because, damn, weâre too far from gender stereotypes and toxic masculinity.â âI agree.â âAnd because I really wanted you to know that I wanna marry you, and spend the rest of my life with you, just as much as you do.â
Completely spellbound by the sincerity of her love, now and always, Bryce simply bit his lip and leaned to plant a sweet kiss on her lips.
There was nothing else to do but be happy.
____
Ps: Here pics of Bryce and Eleanor engagement rings. I had the idea of a collage, but it would've also taken me a day to finish it, lol sorry
Thank you for reading! â€
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Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Religious Discussion, Forgiveness, Guilt, Religious Guilt, Fallen Angels, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), (sort of?), Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Post-Canon, Post not-pocalypse, Canon Compliant, Coping, Warning: somewhat critical of god
Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley's wings turn the same grey, Aziraphale does not take it well and begins to fear that he might be Falling with a capital F. Crowley finds his angel in a crushing spiral into immense self-blame and guilt, desperately seeking God's forgiveness.
"Heya, angel!â Crowley announced as he swung the door to the bookshop open. âIâve got some really important stuff to discuss. Urgently. So could you maybe, um, close shop early today?âÂ
Aziraphale, who was shelving some books, twirled round to face Crowley, already lighting up with glee at the sound of his voice. âWell, of course!â he said, placing the books down on the stool beside himself. Heâd always liked having an excuse for closing early so it was lovely to have his favourite one walking right through the doors on a Monday afternoon. âWhat exactly would you like to discuss?â
With a snap of Crowleyâs fingers, the door was miraculously locked and the open/close card was flipped. âHereâs not good,â he replied, extra fidgety today as he eased his weight on one leg and then the other. âUpstairs maybe?â
The smile on Aziraphaleâs face slowly slipped as he was ushered up the stairs to his living quarters. âOh dear⊠Is something the matter?â
Crowley audibly winced. âUpstairs first, alright?â
Aziraphale let out a noise of confusion but allowed himself to be guided upstairs. Crowley pushed him to sit on the bed that miraculously appeared just a couple weeks after the Almost-pocalypse. He set his fists atop his knees and looked up at Crowley, who removed his sunglasses.Â
âI need you to take out your wings,â he said.Â
âPardon?â
Of course, Crowley caught the tension in the angelâs voice and said calmly, âYour wings. Iâd like to check something.â
Aziraphale nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he drew his wings out into their dimensional plane. He felt his back grow heavy with a comfortable weight and his wings, slightly stiff from disuse, stretched the aches out of itself.Â
When he opened his eyes again, Crowley was looking at his wings. His eyebrows raised as he muttered, âYup. I figured.â
Aziraphale frowned as he curled his wings forward. His jaw fell when instead of the pure white wings he was used to, mottled grey wings came into view. âWh-What is this?â he cried. Then, his mind did a twist and he looked at Crowley anxiously. âWhat about yours?â he said, standing up and holding Crowleyâs arms.Â
âCalm down,â he said, gently pulling Aziraphaleâs hands away. Then, he took his own wings out as well, and they were no longer pitch black either, and were instead the same mottled grey as Aziraphaleâs. âA bit of a shame, honestly. Iâve always liked black,â Crowley joked. âWeâre really on our own side, arenât we?â Like a gentleman asking for a dance, he held a hand out towards Aziraphale.Â
Aziraphale, however, flinched away. âIâve clearly done something wrong.â
Crowley frowned. âWhat could you have possibly done wrong, angel?â
âI-I donât know,â Aziraphale admitted as he paced around the bedroom. âBut I must have done something that warranted this change.â
âI changed too, didnât I?â Crowley said, stretching his own grey wing out. âWe have the same wings.â
âYes, but itâs different, Crowley,â Aziraphale said, frustration building. âIf my wings are turning grey, then it must mean IâmâŠâ A shiver ran down his spine as he looked up at Crowley with imploring blue eyes. âCould it be⊠that I am Falling?â
âWhat?!â
Aziraphale wrung his hands and his gaze fell to the wooden flooring. âThatâs the only reasonable explanation, isnât it? This is⊠a sign that Iâm Falling. F-For going against one of Godâs plans, perhaps.â
âYeah,â Crowley said, rolling his eyes. âAnd Iâm getting back in heavenâs favour. Iâm being forgiven. Lovely.â He sighed. "Listen, you're not Falling. I know what that's like and this isn't it. God's a lot crueler than this."
"M-maybe She's giving me a second chance."
Crowley pulled a face of doubt. "Are we really talking about the same God?" He sighed. "Besides, even if you really are fallingâwhich you aren'tâit ain't that bad honestly. I quite like being a demon sometimes. For one, black wings are much cooler than white ones."
"But I don't want to fall! I like being an angel!" Aziraphale exclaimed. He took a deep breath as he clenched and unclenched his hands. âI⊠I need to do something. Seek forgiveness. Make up for my mistake. My wings are only turning grey so Iâm clearly being given a chance to redeem myself, right?â
Worry set into Crowleyâs features firmly now. âSince when do we care about what heaven thinks anyway? They tried to murder you with hellfire!â
âThat was just Gabriel and those angels,â Aziraphale argued. âI just⊠I want to do right by the Lord.â
âYou saw how She didnât care about Earth, didnât you? Whole bloody apocalypse just for the stupid war.â
âIt probably was within Godâs ineffable plan for the apocalypse to be stopped.â
Crowley threw his hands up. âGod,â he said, âdidnât stop anything. We did!â He sighed, trying to reign in the rage that he knew was trickling into his voice. He lowered his voice into something gentle again as he reached for Aziraphale. âAngelââ
âDonât!â Aziraphale said, snatching his hand back. âDonât call me that!â His anger instantaneously melted, however, upon seeing hurt flashing across Crowleyâs golden eyes. âI need some time by myself,â he said. âCan you give me that?â
Crowleyâs eyes wobbled with hesitation. Finally, he said, âSure, angel.â
***
Crowley gave Aziraphale a full day before popping by again to check on him. The first worrying sign had been how the shop was closed, despite it being only barely noon. As much as Aziraphale liked closing early, he usually stayed open till at least 2pm just so he could say that the shop had been open.
Crowley had also noticed that the books Aziraphale had left on the stool were still sitting there, untouched. He cursed under his breath and dashed up the stairs to the living quarters. He was somewhat relieved to see the angel at his worktable. Too busy muttering to himself, he hadnât noticed Crowley enter at all.Â
Cautiously, Crowley walked to his side. Atop the table were copious amounts of notes and several different volumes of the Bible. Concerned, Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder, and Aziraphale jerked back.Â
âAh,â he exhaled. He flusteredly smiled at Crowley as he adjusted his reading glasses. âYouâve come just in time, my dear. It seems that I need your opinion on this matter.â He picked up a notebook from under a pile of papers, flipped to a bookmarked page and continued, âDo you think itâs that time I used that miracle to reserve that last remaining pancake two days ago? It was really quite a frivolous miracle, and perhaps that was the last straw.âÂ
âWait,â Crowley said, his hand returning to Aziraphaleâs shoulder, this time firm. âWhat on earth are you talking about?â
âWhy my wings turned grey of course!â
Crowley gestured to the mess of a table. âAnd what does all this have anything to do with it?â
âIâm trying to figure out what exactly I did wrong that upset God and turned my wings grey.â Aziraphale sighed and dug up another notebook, which he opened to a dog-eared page. âI was also thinking perhaps⊠Well, maybe the punishment was only just issued yesterday and it wasnât actually for something recent. Iâm also thinking maybe it was about that time in 1367 when I pouredââ
â1367?!â Crowley exclaimed. He grabbed one of the papers off the table and read it. â578 AD?! Wh-â He looked at Aziraphale, brimming with concern. âWhy are you going so far back?â
âBecause Iâve been doing so much wrong!â Aziraphale cried, twisting the ring on his pinky. âThey⊠My indiscretions. They began since God knows when. Iâve been doing so much wrong since⊠since the beginning of time, I believe. I donât even know if giving away that flaming sword had actually been the right thing.â His hands were shaking with torment. "I'm such a terrible angel."
The demon's heart damn near broke in two at the sight of his angel in this state. He looked at the mess of paper and books in disbelief. He shook his head. "This is just too much, angel," he pleaded. "You shouldn't be made to list down every single thing you did in the past six thousand years and made to⊠to analyse it all."
"I didn't want to entertain the possibility butâŠ" Aziraphale's voice was soft, distraught, vulnerable, like a child asking their parents to check under the bed for monsters. "But⊠what if it's everything, Crowley? How could I seek forgiveness from God if it's just⊠everything?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how IâŠ"
Crowley leaned in closer. There was a vice around his chest, clamping down and hurting him. Why must his angel suffer like this? What has he ever done to deserve this pain? This crushing guilt? âTheyâre mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes, all sorts of them. We just do better next time, right?â
"But I shouldn't be making mistakes! I'm an angel. I'm meant to do good." Aziraphale pushed Crowley away and picked up his pen and notebook again. "I need to find out what it was that I've done wrong. Otherwise, it'd be terribly insincere to apologise without even knowing what I'm apologising for, isn't it?"
Crowley ripped the pen and notebook out of Aziraphale's hand. "If the Almighty wants an apology, She'd better get down here and explain what She's so bloody upset about!"
Aziraphale slammed the table. "She shouldn't have to! I'm an angel. I ought to know."Â
"No! It's just unfair. God and Her ineffable plans, moving in mysterious ways and playing ridiculous card games we don't know the rules to in the dark.â He walked in a tight circle, running a hand through his hair, before turning to face Aziraphale again. âHow could we be expected to know? Even now, I still don't even know why I got tossed down into a pool of hot boiling sulfur because She never bothered to explain anything! Six thousand years and still no explanation whatsoever!"
Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley felt a pang of guilt.Â
Lowering his voice, he said, âLook, God hasnât explained anything then, and She isnât starting anytime soon. Okay?â
Plucking his reading glasses from his face and closing his eyes to massage his nose bridge, Aziraphale said, âI want to do right by Her. Why is that so hard?âÂ
Crowley sagged. It hurt him terribly to see his angel so distraught, so frantic, so helpless.
âPerhapsâŠâ Aziraphale breathed. âPerhaps, Iâm not worthy of it.â
A beat.
"I forgive you," the demon whispered.
Aziraphale's eyes flew open and he stared at Crowley, eyebrows tightly knitted. "You forgive me?" he bit out. At the silence, his brow furrowed further with fury. "You can't do that. Take that back."
"I forgive you," he repeated.
"What are you forgiving me for?" Aziraphale yelled.Â
"All the wrongs you did. Everything. I forgive you."
"You canât!" he insisted.Â
âWhy not?â
Aziraphale glared in silence.
"You're not made to carry six thousand years worth of self-blame and guilt. You're a good angel, even if God doesn't recognise that."
"But I want to do right by Her," Aziraphale said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I just⊠I want Her to forgive me. If I knew what exactly I did wrong, maybeâŠ" His breath hitched, words stuck upon his throat.
Crowley knelt down and held his angel's face. He was trembling so hard Crowley feared that if he let go, he'd simply shatter and crumble apart.Â
"I just want to do the right thing," Aziraphale said. "It used to be so straightforward. If it was as God intended, what I was doing couldnât possibly be wrong. But nowâŠ" He looked up at the ceiling, as though willing the wetness of his eyes to disappear, but a tear had already spilled out and rolled down his cheek, damping Crowley's fingers. Then, a couple more followed, like beads of a snapped bracelet. He relented and sagged in his seat. âI donât know.â
Crowley used his thumb to wipe the tears away but they continued to fall uncontrollably and he couldn't catch them all.
Aziraphale's voice was thick with tears when he spoke and his bottom lip wobbled with grief. "I don't know what's the right thing anymore. I don't know if I've ever done anything right," he said, placing his hands over Crowleyâs and pulling them away from his face. âI feel like I've done everything wrong but I don't know who to seek forgiveness from.â
Crowley turned his hands slowly to grasp Aziraphaleâs. âYou havenât done everything wrong, I promise. Maybe some things. But we all mess up sometimes. We don't have it all figured out most of the time and that's okay," he said. "We're trying our best to correct what we can, and that's enough."Â
Aziraphale looked at Crowley, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Gently, Crowley squeezed his hands.
"Forgive yourself, angel. You donât need to carry this six-thousand-year weight. And I can't bear to see you hating and hurting yourself like this, please."
When Aziraphale leaned forward, Crowley let go and allowed him to fall slowly into his arms. Aziraphale pressed his face to Crowley's shoulder, just as silent sobs began to shake his being. He pulled their hands close to his chest and squeezed. Crowley squeezed back.Â
Pressing closer still, Aziraphale muttered into Crowley's shirt, "Iâm never going to get anything else from upstairs anymore, am I? We only have what we give ourselves now. Weâll have to figure things out by ourselves."Â
Crowley hummed.
âWe really are on our own, aren't we? Just the two of us.â
"Yeah. Us two, on the same side. Grey wings on both our backs. Could be fun.â
That got a short laugh from Aziraphale, and tension trickled out of him. "If you say so, my dear."
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Soft asks number 3 for john and Abigail
Pairing: John Marston x Abigail Marston
Words: 1040
Summary: John thinks back on what a terrible husband and father he's been over the years⊠only to realise something very importantÂ
Prompt Requested: "You're comfier than my pillow"
Notes: Fluff, Post Epilogue, Possible Spoilers for key points in the game [CW: mentions of pregnancy]
I'm so sorry this request has been sitting in my askbox for over a year đđ But your constant support and inspiration motivated me to finally finish this. So much so, what was originally planned to be around 100 word drabble turned into over 1k words. (This is also a giant thank you for putting up with my radio silences these last few weeks đ)
Requested tags for: @redeadepression a.k.a. John and Abigail's biggest fan and defender.
~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~
Finally Found What I've Been Looking For
1908, Beecher's Hope
A thudding sound filled the air of the master bedroom in Beecher's Hope as Abigail punched her pillow in frustration. It was the third time this week that sleep had eluded her.
     "What's the matter, darlin'?" John asked, half asleep, moving his arm out towards her in an open invitation for her to come closer to him.
     "What's the matter? What's⊠the⊠matter?" She growled, emphasising every word he had just said to her back to him through gritted teeth. "I can't sleep because I'm so damn uncomfortable. And there's your damn snoring, John Marston⊠all of this is your fault, you know." Throwing his arm back towards him, she flopped back down in the empty space next to him.
   "So you keep tellin' me," he chuckled lightly, ignoring her earlier protests, and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her towards him. "And while I may have played a small part in makin' you feel this way, I think you'll find that it's this one here who is causin' all the trouble," he grinned, placing a protective hand on Abigail's ever-growing baby bump.
Not being able to resist a chance to swipe at her husband she muttered, "Small part indeed," under her breath, causing John to shoot her a pretend hurt look. Taking a second to steady her thoughts, Abigail apologised, placing a hand on John's chest. "I'm sorry. I'm just fed up of bein' pregnant now. I just wanna meet our daughter."
   "Daughter?" John raised a quizzical eyebrow towards her. "How can you be certain it's a girl?"
   "I'm not, but this time feels completely different to when I was carryin' Jack⊠so I've just got it into my head it's a girl this time."
John kissed the top of his wife's head, feeling her instantly relax into his body. "Well, I can't wait to meet them either, no matter if they're a boy or a girl, but you need to get some rest before they get here. You're cranky enough as it is without sleep; throw in a newborn awake all hours of the night, and I reckon you'll kill us all," he teased, rubbing her back.
Abigail nodded with heavy eyes, "I know⊠I know. But I think I might be able to sleep now - you're far comfier than my pillow is⊠even if you are still quite boney."Â
John playfully rolled his eyes at her insistence to always get a dig in at him. He knew that while her barbed comments may seem uncaring to an outsider; he used to think the same thing himself when she'd make comments whilst living in camp together, he came to realise that her callous words were just a way of hiding how scared she was of saying how she really felt about him out loud. While John might have appreciated Abigail telling him that she loved him out loud, he already knew that she did and would smile to himself when she tried to hide the fact once more under an insult to his face.
Brushing a loose hair from her angelic like features, trying not to laugh as she swatted his hand away, John grinned, watching her finally fall asleep. He couldn't help but internally kick himself that he never wanted to do any of this all that time ago when she was carrying Jack and was never really around for them both in the years following his birth.Â
He'd always held a soft spot for Abigail, ever since she first walked into camp all those years ago, the sting of her sharp witted tongue dulled by her outstanding beauty. But within a few months of meeting her, she'd fallen pregnant and told him he was the father and it suddenly felt it was like someone had placed a giant millstone around his neck. Back then John just wanted to drink and be merry with his campmates and had thought his life was to have a greater meaning than being a sole provider to two of his campmates. He even ran away from his responsibilities for a whole year to try and find out what it was he really wanted from life, but that hadn't helped him find what it was that he was looking for. No, it had just left him with a feeling of guilt and regret he'd left his chance of having a proper family behind. He'd come back with his tail between his legs, but still couldnât summon the courage to be a proper father to little Jack, let alone be a good partner to Abigail.
He had tried though, in the years that followed, especially after they finally got Jack back from the clutches of Angelo Bronte, and later on in the aftermath of the gang's demise, John had tried to give Abigail and Jack what they needed from him; but it never seemed enough. They'd rent a room somewhere while they both looked for good, honest work⊠and within a few weeks, or months if they were lucky, they'd be moving on again. Abigail nagging once more at him that it was because John couldnât help but get himself in trouble for trying to protect them.
But watching his wife sleep soundly carrying their second child and knowing their eldest was safe in a bed of his own, with a roof over his head, it suddenly dawned on John that this right here was what he'd been looking for for all that time; stability and safety for his family. He'd spent years looking over his shoulder making sure no-one could hurt the two things he loved most in this life, and only now with Arthur's death avenged and Micah laying dead up on that mountain, the unbearable weight had been lifted from John's shoulders. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they could live the life Arthur had sacrificed himself for and John could finally breathe again.
Closing his own eyes he started to dream of all the good things that could be waiting for his ever growing family in this new chapter of their lives⊠only to be rudely awoken by Abigail sleeply hitting his chest.
   "Damnit John, quit with the snorin' will ya?"
#rdr2 fanfic#fangirl writes#john marston x abigail marston#fluff#they may not have the most healthy of relationships#but they do care for each other#you can fight me on that đ
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100 Followers Celebration!
God, Iâm late with this, but I finally passed the 100 follower milestone and I wanted to do something for it to show my appreciation. That something turned out to be almost 3000 words of emotional hurt/comfort and dumb boys in love, so I hope someone enjoys it.
I canât even express how grateful I am to have (over!!!) 100 people think Iâm worthy of following when mostly I just reblog other peopleâs posts and scream in the tags, but this is me trying to get the point across. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the people who continue to tolerate my bullshit and occasionally encourage my sad stucky edits and my angsty fluff fanfics. Youâre all amazing and wonderful people!
Also cross-posted on Ao3 here.
you left your mark on me like footprints in the snow
âBuck, you awake?â
Itâs sort of a moot point, seeing as Bucky â light sleeper that he is â would have woken up the second Steve stepped across the threshold of the living room, but he feels compelled to ask nonetheless. His ma was a stickler for courtesy, especially when it didnât cost anyone a dime, and while he canât quite manage to defer to politeness when it comes to aggravating superiors, it comes easy as breathing with most everyone else.
Bucky isnât everyone else, and half the time Steve doesnât bother filtering himself around him, but tonightâ
Tonightâs a bad night.
But itâs not Buckyâs night for a change.
As Steve pauses at the back of the couch, arms crossed and head ducked, he sees Bucky smoothly push himself up into a sitting position from where he was stretched across the cushions, rolling his shoulders back as he scrubs his flesh and blood hand over his face. He was awake, judging by the dog-eared book he lets slide to the floor; Steve canât make out the cover from this angle, but heâd bet anything itâs one of those YA novels Sam recommended to him that he refuses to thank Sam for. Something about Greek gods and terribly unlucky teenagers. Steve doesnât go for fantasy often, but he knows Buckyâs been plowing through the series for the last few weeks.
âIâm always awake,â Bucky says once heâs gotten a good look at Steve, despite Steveâs best efforts to tuck all the visible hurt away behind an admittedly shaky smile. Heâs joking, mostly â when Bucky first came home, he rarely got more than an hour or two of sleep before some imagined threat had him prowling the confines of the apartment, checking and rechecking the locks and the security system. Nowadays his sleepless nights are still disturbingly frequent, but not every night, and he can usually pass them by reading or watching whatever he finds most interesting on TV.Â
Bucky quirks a brow when Steve remains silent, tilting his head. Assessing. âYou, though,â he continues as if he hadnât paused at all, âyou should be dead to the world, Rogers. Sawing logs, or whatever it is they say when you snore louder than a damn foghorn.â
âI donât â I donât snore,â Steve bites out, reflexive, which just gets Buckyâs other brow jumping up to join the first.
âSo itâs one of those nights, huh.â Bucky nods to himself, twisting around on the couch to lean back against the armrest, legs spread invitingly. He pats the space between his thighs. âGood thing Iâm a certified Steve Rogers expert and know exactly what you need.â
Steve considers refuting that claim, but he canât bring himself to bother with it. A flare of indignation does pulse under his skin (he hates the idea that he needs to be managed), though it peters out just as quickly as it came, taking with it the last shred of warmth Steveâs been clinging to since he slipped out from beneath his bed covers. Buckyâs right, anyway; this is what Steve needs, something theyâve pieced together in the months after Bucky felt safe enough to put himself back into Steveâs orbit.
Rubbing briskly at his upper arms, more for something to do with his hands than any hope of warming himself up, Steve hesitates another moment before he sighs and climbs over the back of the couch to crawl in between Buckyâs legs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steveâs waist instantly, tugging him until his back is flush with Buckyâs chest. He noses at the nape of Steveâs neck, presses a kiss there that has a delightful shiver rippling down Steveâs spine, then wedges his chin into the space between neck and shoulder.
âWhatâs the threat level with this one?â Bucky asks quietly. Threat level is their established short-hand for how bad a nightmare was, what kind of toll it took on them. Itâs easier getting that out than something like I woke up crying reaching for you canât get my heart to calm down canât breathe woke up alone and had to bite back a scream, and Steve can admit that Buckyâs nothing short of a goddamn genius for giving Steve a way to explain without explaining.Â
ââBout a seven,â Steve says, which means itâs closer to a nine than heâd like. He can still feel the phantom chill of wind and snow on his face, the ice-clogged water in his lungs, arms outstretched but grasping at nothing nothing nothing. Buckyâs face, frozen over and glassy-eyed. No air, no breath, no life in either of them â but Steve, undead, trapped below the ice, forced to watch it all play out on repeatâ
âUh-huh. Seven. Sure, Iâll go with that for now.â Buckyâs voice is right against his ear, his breath warm, the solid weight of him so very real that Steve shudders again, leaning into him even though thereâs hardly space left between them to close. âYou need me to do anything extra special?â
Steve shakes his head, then pauses, reconsiders. âKeep talking?âÂ
His nightmares are â strange. Theyâre quiet, mostly, unless they involve the train, and then itâs the clack-clack-clack of the tracks, the high-pitched whistling of the wind, his own desperate screams. But when itâs the ice⊠itâs almost silent. Like an old film, the reels spinning on soundlessly around him. Colors are muted, too, shades of gray and blue and the occasional vibrant streak of red that could be blood, could be his suit, could be the afterimage of staring too long into a bright light.Â
Bucky huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around Steve, and in return Steve shifts to lay his hands over Buckyâs skin, one sliding along his forearm, the other reaching down to slip under the hem of Buckyâs shorts. Heâd grab the metal arm (it doesnât bother him, and itâs body temperature from being tucked under Bucky on the couch) but he needs skin right now, and he knows Bucky doesnât begrudge him it.
âTalking,â Bucky murmurs. âYou gotta pick the one thing Iâm no good at anymore, donât ya. No, no, donât start,â he says, reading the tensing of Steveâs body all too well, and Steve slumps back into his hold, caught out. âIâm not sayinâ I wonât do it, and Iâm not gettinâ all self-deprecating on you, either. Words are hard, sweetheart, you know that.â
âSorry, Buck. We can just put the TV on, orââ
âI said itâs fine, Rogers. Relax. Iâm not in the habit of doing things I donât want to these days, even for you, which is a goddamn miracle considering all the shit I put up with for your benefit when we were kids. Christ.â
Steve rolls his eyes, which he knows is the exact reaction Bucky was going for. âAlright, Iâll bite. Whatâd I talk you into that was so bad?â
âGod, Steve, Snow White? How many times dâwe see that in theaters?â
âWhat? You loved that movie!â
âNo, you loved that movie, despite being fuckinâ colorblind. I went because Iâm a goddamn sap and I couldnât get enough of the wide-eyed baby deer act you pulled every time you got to see all that animation in action. You sparkled, Steve, it was addicting.â
âWhat?â
âWhaddya mean, what? Canât a guy get all sentimental over how cute his best guy looked staring adoringly at a cartoon?â
âNo, I meanâ you went for me? We werenât evenâŠâ
âFirst of all, jackass, I donât gotta be in love with someone to wanna see them happy. Second, I honestly canât tell you if I realized that I was in love with you back then. Itâs all mixed up with how I definitely felt during the war, and then with everything that came with thawing out here.â
Hold onâÂ
âBucky. Bucky. The war?â
Steveâs half-twisted around in Buckyâs arms now, staring at him, slack-jawed, because theyâve never had this conversation before. Nothing even close to this has ever come up between them. When they got together this century, they only acknowledged that theyâd never considered doing so back in the thirties, that their feelings only really surfaced now because they finally had a moment to rest without the fear of discovery hanging over their heads. Bucky has never breathed a word of loving Steve at any point before that.
But Bucky doesnât seem to understand whatâs running through Steveâs head, because his brows furrow as he stares right back at Steve. âWhy are you acting so surprised? You think I curled up with you every night just âcause I was cold?â He pauses. âI mean, alright, yes, I was freezing and you were a goddamn furnace all of a sudden, butââ
âYou have never said shit about this, Barnes, what the fuck?â
And thereâs Bucky rising to the challenge in Steveâs voice, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. Refusing to let go of Steve, though, for which heâs grateful; he needs the grounding weight of him all the more in this moment.
âI ainât exactly proud of it, Steve. You and Carter? Fuck, you made my blood boil with her.â
Steve blinks. Blinks again, shakes his head like thatâll make Buckyâs words fall into a neat little line he can actually understand. He feels Buckyâs chest expand as he breathes in deep, feels it deflate as he lets it out in a heavy sigh. His eyes are nearly silver in this light, and so sheepish that Steve just wants to set this aside and kiss on him until heâs smiling again. But â he wants to know, fuck, he doesnât like secrets between them anymore, and he knows Buckyâs the same way. Itâs not the best time to get into this, but really, in the grand scheme of things⊠itâs as good a time as theyâll get.
âGod, alright. I was jealous, okay? Whether or not I knew what you were to me while we were still in Brooklyn, I sure as hell knew it then when I was watching you two dance around each other for months. The way youâd stare after her, the way she tucked herself right into your side whenever you were in the same room⊠I was sick with it, hatinâ her and hatinâ myself for feeling that way when I didnât have a fuckinâ claim to you. When you were happy with her and I couldnât make myself be happy for you. You think I like admitting I couldnât put my best friendâs happiness above my own bruised ego?â
âBuckâŠâ
âAw, donât look like that, sweetheart. Was my own fault for never saying anything. And, well, for all I knew back then you were straight as an arrow. You thought you were pretty straight, as I recall. Maybe it woulda just driven a wedge between us if Iâd said something.â
âFuck that.â The words are whispered, but they get Steveâs point across just fine â itâs Buckyâs turn to blink, leaning away from Steve slightly like he needs a better look at him to process what heâs just heard. Steve just follows him, getting his knees under him so he can cup Buckyâs face in both palms, holding him close. âFuck that. I always loved you, Bucky Barnes. Platonic, romantic, doesnât fucking matter. If you think for one second I woulda left you over something like thatââ
Bucky laughs again, a quick, sharp little thing that barely interrupts Steveâs vehement protests, but the kiss Bucky plants on his lips does the job of getting his attention.
âWhat a stubborn asshole you are, sweetheart.â
Scowling, Steve kisses Bucky again, harder this time but still achingly sweet. âYou think Iâm lyinâ?â
âDo I look like an idiot? No, I donât think youâre lying, but thatâs what youâre saying now, with the glorious gift of hindsight. You canât say for sure thatâs how you would have reacted, and I wouldnât have blamed you for it.â
âOne more time, Barnes, âcause I do think youâre a little slow on the uptake tonight. Fuck that. You got my ass through every fuckinâ illness that so much as looked at our borough, got me through maâs death⊠you think you catchinâ feelings was gonna scare me away? I was afraid of you leaving, god, I woulda clung to you forever if you let me, even if you got married, had kids, whatever. I probably wouldnât have believed you could like me, but I wouldnât have been mad at you over it.â
Itâs quiet between them once Steveâs gotten it all out of his system, save for his heart thudding in his chest and their quickened breathing, the tick-tick-tick of the ceiling fan above them. Steve refuses to look away from Buckyâs searching gaze, and god, yes, heâs a stubborn asshole, but heâs also right! Heâs right and heâs going to prove that to Bucky, one way or another, because this is too important to let go. He doesnât want Bucky thinking even for a second that there is a scenario where Steve would throw him over for someone else. Anyone Steve loved â anyone who loved Steve â would have had to accept that Bucky came first, always.
In hindsight, Steve maybe shouldâve figured out his own damn feelings long before he reached the 21st century, but that wasnât exactly his point right now.Â
Steve doesnât know how long they sit there like that, holding one another without saying a word, but he doesnât tear his eyes away from Buckyâs for a single moment of it, willing him to understand that heâs always been Steveâs anchor, his touchstone â that absolutely nothing short of death could ever come between them, and fuck, even that didnât stick. And he thinks Bucky might be getting there, the way a slow, tremulous smile spreads across his face, a flush high on his cheeks that does things to Steveâs heart.Â
âI love you.â
Steveâs eyes crinkle as he smiles, automatic, ducking his head down to press into Buckyâs neck, the fabric of his worn t-shirt soft against Steveâs cheek. Itâs far from the first time either of them have said it, but Steve still gets so giddy over it, knowing he gets to have this, have Bucky, to hold and kiss and adore this man in his arms for as long as theyâre both alive⊠itâs heady, and something Steve doesnât want to take for granted, not even for a second. The road they took to get here was too brutal for Steve not to be damn grateful for every moment they have together.Â
Which means he doesnât mind the teasing they get from the rest of the team, the not-so-sly remarks and gratuitous eye rolls that Sam and Natasha are so fond of, the downright lewd shit that gets thrown right back in Tonyâs face when Bucky reminds them all that neither of them are innocent grandpas.Â
Itâs all part of getting to love Bucky the way he deserves, the way heâs always and will always deserve, and if thereâs one thing about the future that Steve unequivocally loves, itâs that he can be as open as he wants about just how much he loves Bucky. And, if people do have a problem with it, Steve can kick their asses â mostly over Twitter, but still. Heâs a fan.
âLove you too, Buck.â
Bucky hums, content, and readjusts so that Steve is mostly laying flat on top of him, the both of them stretched out across the couch. He snags the blanket from where itâs half-spilled onto the floor, draping it over Steve enough that it covers the majority of their bodies. Steve snuggles in, wrapping his arms around Buckyâs back, giving him a gentle squeeze to show his appreciation.Â
Heâs all but forgotten the phantom cold that drove him out here in the first place.
âWanna try going back to sleep?â Bucky murmurs, rubbing circles into Steveâs back.
âNah. Youâre still gonna be here, donât wanna sleep alone.â
âMm, fair point. You just gonna lay here, then?â
He could, Bucky wonât protest his weight or the company. âYeah. Right where I wanna be. You could read to me, though?â
âIâm in the middle of the book, Rogers, you wonât have any clue whatâs going on.â
âJust like the sound of your voice, Buck. Itâs soothing,â Steve argues, and heâs slurring his words a little, he knows, but he doesnât care and Bucky doesnât call him out on it. âRead to me?â
He feels the rumble of Buckyâs laughter in his own chest, pressed right up against him, then the shift of the couch as Bucky grabs his book from the floor and braces it against the dip in Steveâs spine so he can read.
And yeah, Buckyâs right â Steve couldnât tell you a thing about whatâs happening in the book right now (there are gods and monsters and quippy teenagers, but none of it settles quite right in his brain, none of it takes any recognizable shape) but he couldnât be happier regardless.
Turns out itâs not so bad of a night after all.Â
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Richard Malik x Operative: The Whistleblower
This the first time I've posted a fic in a while, but I'm excited! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist đ
Tags: @simping-for-sandayu-oda @luciewarrenx3
âąâąâą
Richard had to admit, he'd come up with more... enjoyable plans than this one. He grunted as the Albion thug's knee collided with his stomach, again. Wanker was enjoying this way too much.
His eyes flicked to the camera ever so subtly. Not that the bastard would've noticed, he was too busy trying to decide which way to assault Richard Malik next. But he could see it moving around a bit sporadically, as if its operator were trying to get his attention.
And even in the midst of great pain, he had to fight a smirk. Things were already going accordingly.
"U-ugh!" He grunted as the Albion guard pulled him up by his hair and punched him in the face.
Welp, time to fall back into character.
"I-I'm not who you think I am, I-I swear!"
A slap across the face. Backhanded. Richard had to admit, that hurt his pride more than it did his face.
"You're Malik! A SIRS officer and a leaky fucking twat!" Richard, with his forehead resting against the cold concrete, found himself wanting to smile at his own notoriety.
Malik. That name carried weight in SIRS. In London's infrastructure of justice and security. This scared, begging persona wasn't him. This was a choice.
He was a spy. Slippery, and willing to relinquish his true character for his mission.
His breathing quickened with faux fear as the Albion officer picked him up by the collar, bunching up his silken silver tie amidst the action. "That's not me, I s-swear to god, please- PLEASE-"
---
Angel's heart nearly stopped when Bagley cut the feed. "FuckâŠ" she whispered. She had half a mind to curl up on the curb and let a grey gloom consume her, but Bagley was too much of a dick to allow that.
"Fuck is right! And fucking dead is what he'll be if you don't hurry," he said in his not-so-robotic deadpan.
Dead. Murdered. Killed?
All words and possibilities that resonated with Angel. She took a deep shaky breath, squeezing the steering wheel of her Atterley. "Drop a pin please, Bags," she said.
"I already did, while you were having a little panic attack."
Instead of meeting his snark with her own, Angel kicked the car into gear, speeding towards the construction site. From first gear to third, then sixth... and she was skidding to a stop by the sidewalk before she knew it.
Her optik buzzed as someone got onto comm. It was Brian, the team's most senior hitman. "Scope the place out before you go in. This could be a trap for all we know, so-"
The soft patters of a silenced P9, followed by two separate cries cut Brian off.
"Angel! Bagley, what's she-"
"She's storming the place like the baboon cousin she is!" Bagley exclaimed, "You know for a spy, she's rather uncovert." Which only said the absolute least.
The bodies were shrouded before the spy moved on, picking off another soldier just as they were turning the corner. A bullet between his eyes before he even knew he was in danger, and cloaked to make his death even less apparent.
Pressed against a corner wall, Angel took her phone out and let the news drone above become her eyes. "Bagley, help me find him," she said urgently.
"There's a closed off room in the back. Try there," he said. Angel jumped from camera to camera, her heart squeezing a bit every time she didn't see Richard.
Just when she was about to crack her phone in her grip, she saw him. Wrists tied, on his knees, gaze trained on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.
Angel knew this picture of him. Years ago, in a dirt-floored cell where they huddled together for just an inch of warmth. The image made her shudder, so forcefully mentally that she did so physically too.
She flinched again when Brian came over the comm. "Alright, there he is. I suggest you take out the rest of the guards before you go in," he said.
From soldier, to spy, and now to soldier again. Angel nodded as she squeezed the hilt of her gun. "I'll get right on it."
---
Richard chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at the floor. He could feel a pair of eyes on him once again, staring through that same metal lense. He didn't dare turn to look, didn't dare break character.
Until he heard the camera screech, as if it wanted him to turn. And, flinching in surprise, he did.
He looked at the camera, wondering why the DedSec operative who'd come for him wanted to make their presence so known. Richard eyed the camera for a moment, searching for something deeper beyond the blank, metallic lense.
Of course, he found nothing. But just the notion of the operative- who he was all too sure was finally here- trying to communicate you're safe, it's okay, made him want to chuckle.
He gave the camera an acknowleding smirk, and ever so slight tilt of his head.
"AHH!" A soldier just outside screamed.
Richard's head whipped around again, and he heard some indecipherable yelling, along with the heavy footsteps of Albion-approved military boots. Somebody was obviously getting their ass kicked outside, because he only heard one person grunting in pain as limbs connected with their target.
Then silence.
He never really liked the quiet. It meant that nothing was happening, and for Richard, something always had to be happening. He couldn't predict quiet. Couldn't scheme it, outsmart it.
Thank god it didn't last long, before the metal door squealed open and quiet footsteps pittered in.
Richard kept his gaze down, as would a man currently fearing for his life. He'd been that enough times to know how to imitate it.
The 'fwoop' of a knife unsheathing made him flinch genuinely. But a steady, smooth... familiar voice eased him.
"Easy. It's just me," she said. Just me, she said. As if he were supposed to know her.
And he did. Oh lord, he did. And the mixture of fear, anger, regret, and happiness in him was too genuine for somebody so used to lying in the face of everyone short of his mother and father's graves.
The fearful part of him was scared to turn around and look at her as she cut through his restraints easily. But he didn't have a choice really, as she walked around and kneeled in front of him, cupping his face with both hands and searching for any injuries to his visage.
Richard was a confident man. Strong, assured, and decorated from head to toe in awards that highlighted his ingenius.
But he looked like a dumb fish in that moment, his mouth slightly ajar and eyes wide.
"âŠAngel?" He asked softly as her calloused fingertips subconsciously brushed across his brow, stretching down to touch his jaw.
---
"That's my name," she said dryly as she searched his face, looking anywhere but his eyes. Her hand reached into the pocket on his shirt, where she knew he kept a handkerchief. "Hold still, you look horrible," she said. Not that a handkerchief was gonna fix that, but whatever.
She wiped blood from his jaw, and the bits that had gotten onto his cheek. She chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep more words than necessary from escaping her.
I missed you.
Are you okay?
I know this is a farce, so what are you playing?
All reasonable, but Angel couldn't utter any of them. Because Richard Malik, her friend for all of their youth, her partner in war, her lover for that one night back in college, was right in front of her.
She raked a hand through his hair, which was as close to saying I'm glad you're okay as she was gonna get. And he grabbed her wrist gently.
Brown eyes met a lighter shade. Both of them soft, affectionate, and untrusting.
"You're Dedsec," he said it firmly but quietly. Looking for confirmation. Hoping she'd say no, she just happened to be walking down the street and decided to shoot up a restricted Albion area for shits and giggles.
But she nodded. And a pride she never had while working at SIRS shined in her eyes.
Angel helped him to his feet and cleared her throat. They clearly weren't gonna do the whole "So what've you been up to the past six years?" thing, so she spoke first, "We got the call from you. What was that all about?"
A look of shock passed over Richard's eyes. And Angel could tell what he was thinking. Probably wondering where that smile she always used to greet him with had gone.
But he remembered himself quicklyc straightening his tie with a nervous hand. "I'll upload the intelligence onto an anonymous FTP. You can sort through it-"
"No, I want to hear it from you," Angel cut him off rigidly.
Richard inhaled as his whole "My name is Richard Malik, herdyderdyder," speech was thrown out the window. "I believe I've discovered who Zero-Day really is; rogue SIRS officers from the CT unit who then framed Dedsec for the TOAN bombings."
"Men working under you?" Angel raised one elegant brow. "I always got the impression the CT unit was always fiercely loyal," she commented.
And back to the games they went. This time, for the first time, against each other.
He let out a humorless laugh. "You know how good I am at making enemies," he said, reaching for the door handle.
"Wait, Richard," she said quickly. Angel's hand shot out to grab his arm. He looked down at her in surprise.
âŠDown at her.
Since when was he so damn tall? And handsomeâŠ
No, no, stop it, monkey brain.
"IâŠ" Angel's jaw moved uselessly for a moment, before she simply yanked him into am embrace. Richard made a surprised sound. Way too many surprises for one day for him.
But this one, he could tolerate.
Hesitantly, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders while hers linked around his neck tightly. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and he could smell the shampoo drifting from her hair. "It's⊠good to see you again, Angel," he said quietly.
Angel chuckled once, before inhaling sharply and slowly pulling away. Out of his reach once again.
"We'll, uh... check out the info," she said, nodding before moving to step by him. But she paused by the door, then reached back over to him. Richard watched dumbly as she fixed his silver tie, straightening it back up and patting his chest twice. And she smiled.
"You grew up nicely, Richard," she said, before slipping out the door.
Richard stood there dumbly for a moment, a thousand different things racing through his head.
But the one thing that stood out the most was the fact that his plans had definitely just been shaken.
~end~
#richard malik#watchdogs#watch dogs legion#wdl#give this man a GOLD STAR#for being HOT#richard malik x oc
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Keeping Track
heyyy i never post writing, but I wanted to write a section where I retconned a character getting an injury and I really liked it, so I thought it would post it here!!
also yes this is in first person, and no i will not apologize for it <3
Warnings: pet whump, collars, fear, branding, manhandling, dehumanization, creepy whumper, torture
Word count: 2187
I cracked open my eyes and sat up as I heard the doors to the office click open. To my utter lack of surprise, Sisko was strolling into the room, much too chipper for the time of day. My face formed a snarl and the smaller feathers on my wings puffed in disgust as he passed me, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and knock his legs out from under him. The fine chain leash around my neck jangled as I turned my head to follow him with my gaze.
Unfortunately, he reached his desk unscathed and sat down with his mug of coffee to begin booting his computer up. As it did, he swiveled his chair around to face me, watching me with intense, appraising eyes. I scowled at him, hoping that looks would kill for once. But he didnât chide me contemptuously like usual, just studied me like I was a particularly fascinating bug on a window sill.
When his login screen popped up, Sisko finally set his coffee down and turned to his computer, the faintest smile on his lips.
I huffed indignantly. Weâd only been here a week and I was ready to tear this man limb from limb every moment of the day. Hopefully Iâd get a chance soon. Then I could get the key to this stupid collar with its weird tech and go find the boys. Then we could all get out of here together and go home. It was a wildly outlandish plan, but I was willing to take any chance I could for an escape. Iâd had enough of being treated like an animal, thank you very much.
The clacking from Siskoâs computer slowly brought me out of my own thoughts and I inwardly groaned. Why the hell was his keyboard so damn loud? Who even likes loud, clicky keyboards like that?
âYou know, bird,â Sisko said suddenly, making me start. âYou and your companions arenât the only animals I own.â I wanted to scowl at him again, but that made me pause. Other animals?
âI have the more exotic ones like you tucked away in a room together. Theyâre quite impressive, honestly.â He chuckled, still not looking away from his screen. He continued casually, like he was talking to a friend instead of me, a bird girl chained to the ground.
âEveryone who sees them insists so. But you all are just that much more special.â He pulled away from his computer, rolling his chair backwards and turning to face me pointedly. âYouâre the only ones of your kind.â
I glowered. Was he trying to say something that would upset me? If he was, this wasnât it. I knew we were the only people like this, and it honestly didnât bother me. It was everyone else who seemed to have some kind of problem with us.
âYes, truly rare,â Sisko mumbled, seemingly to himself. Then his eyes fell on me again. He crossed his ankle over his knee and propped his head up with one elbow on his desk. âI feel like I need to make sure everyone knows that I own you now.â His smile, which had started out as a smug little smirk, was quickly turning into the excited grin of a child in a toy store. A shiver ran over my skin, but I kept my angry facade.
Sisko paused for a lingering moment before speaking again. âWhile I own rare and lovely animals, I also own cattle. Did you know that, bird?â I blinked in surprise. It made sense, I guessed, but somehow, it was impossible to imagine Sisko in his sharp, sleek suits overseeing fields of huge, smelly cows.
âMostly for meat. I like to know where my food comes from, start to finish,â he clarified, and I rolled my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. Maybe if I pretended to be uninterested enough, he would just go back to ignoring me.
âAnd âstart to finishâ means keeping constant track of all of this cattle,â he continued, prattling on and on. âKnowing the cows from the steer from the heifers from the springers. Knowing which ones have had their vaccines, which ones are sick.â He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs the other way. âItâs all very important to know.â I sighed loudly and dramatically, slumping myself against the bookcase behind me. If this bothered him, he didnât show it. Just kept that same unsettling grin.
âThere are several ways to keep and identify cows from one another. An ear tag, of course, given at birth.â Sisko flicked his earlobe with a finger. âThe easiest method, in my opinion, but they can fall off. So we must also have a backup method of keeping track of them.â I yawned exaggeratedly, hoping to annoy him into shutting the hell up. Why in the world was he telling me about his cattle, of all things?
âOne of the alternate options is a tattoo on the inside of the ear,â Sisko explained, biting his bottom lip to try to contain his excited smile. âBut itâs so hard to get them to stand still long enough to make it clear enough to read. Which leaves us with the other option.â He sat up, weaving his fingers together excitedly, eyes glittering. It made me extremely uneasy. I could feel some of my smaller feathers begin to puff up anxiously.
âFreeze branding is more popular these days, but I honestly prefer a good, old fashioned hot-fire brand, myself,â he said. âIt might not be quite as good as freeze branding, but I would say itâs much more effective for...behavioral problems.â Sisko could no longer contain his feral grin, and I felt my heart seize in my chest suddenly. Shit. Fuck.
âI think they should just about be ready,â he said with mirth and I paled, head spinning. There was no way even he was batshit enough to do this to me. It had to just be some kind of horrible scare tactic, like stories parents tell their children to frighten them into obeying.
But sure enough, not fifteen seconds later, there was a knock at the door. My mouth went dry as Sisko called in a sing-songy voice âEnter!â
Three men entered the room wearing thick cloth gloves. I recognized them as some of the goons that had kidnapped us all in the first place. In their gloved hands, they carried a bucket with wash cloths hanging over the side, a blow torch, and a metal rod. The rod was a few inches longer than my arm, with a curved metal handle on one end, and a pattern I couldnât make out in the other. My blood froze in my veins.
âSo lovely to see you gentlemen again,â Sisko cooed to the men. âYou may start whenever youâre ready.â I hoped, nay, expected at least one of them to grow a conscience and say âHey, what weâre about to do is wrong!â But consciences seemed in short supply around here.
I scrambled to try to get away, but my collar and leash kept me securely fastened and unable to get more than a couple feet away. The men approached slowly, then one jumped on top of me, shoving me onto my back with enough force to snap my head against the marble flooring.
As I tried to blink the stars from my vision, hands gripped me from all sides and rotated me so now I was laying on my stomach.
âOh, excellent choice,â Sisko purred from his desk. âI think thatâs the perfect place for it.â I tried to at least get on my hands and knees, get just a touch of leverage to shake the bastards off, but there was a heavy weight on my legs, and my hands were bound together under my body. When the hell had that happened?
I heard the soft zrrip of a zip tie fastening and realized that my feet were also bound now. In a panic, I flapped my wings, hoping that if they couldnât help me to my feet, they could at least disorientate the men.
But a shock of pain ran up my right wing as one of them smacked it down and slammed his boot down on it. I definitely would have cried out if I could have. Instead, I let out a gasping grunt.
My left wing was still free, but I stopped moving it when I slammed it harshly into the bookshelf in an attempt to hit one of the men. As soon as I paused, the man Iâd tried to cuff with it stepped on top of my wing, putting his entire weight on it.
I was panting hard, trying so hard not to start crying and also trying to keep myself from absolutely losing it. With the two men on my wings, everything from the waist up was effectively pinned to the ground. When I moved my legs, the last man laid a threatening foot on it, so I stopped. I couldnât deal with him breaking one or both of my legs. Not right now.
So I just had to lay immobile while the men above me flicked on the blow torch and began heating the long metal rod. The iron brand.
The wait was horrible. The only sound in the room was the loud wrooooosshhhh of the flame and my own breath coming in shallow gasps. Flat on my stomach, I couldnât see what the men were doing. I could see the floor, part of the bookshelf, and a sliver of blue sky outside the window. I couldnât even see Sisko, though I was sure his face still held that disgusting manic grin.
After what felt like hours, the blow torch snapped off, and I froze. Oh, no. The man on my left wing shifted, and I felt the bottom of my shirt being pulled up to my wings, exposing my lower back. Oh, god! My entire body was rigid, tense with dreadful anticipation. Please, god, someone help me! Please, I-
The most searing pain Iâd ever felt shot through me. I screamed a mostly soundless guttural scream that hurt on the way out, but not nearly at the level of my lower back. I tried to squirm away for even the most minuscule relief of the more than white hot pain, but I felt boots on my neck, my shoulders, anything that could still move.
Tears were freely flowing down my face as my hands clawed at my stomach underneath me, as if I could reach through it and grab the pain away.
A foul smell reached my nose and I realized that was me. Sour and charred and sickening. That was my skin I could hear sizzling and blistering. I let out another hoarse, gasping wail from my gut and slammed my head into the marble floor, trying to stop the pain somehow.
I was breathing so hard that it felt like my entire body was jerking with spasms, which made the burning hot pain worse, which continued to make my breath come out in labored pants. On and on and on in a worsening circle. My head swam and my vision dimmed at the edges. Was I blacking out? I hoped I would, because that would be the only reprieve I could get from the unbearable, agonizing pain.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the pressure lifted from the small of my back, but the rush of cold air stung nearly as bad and I inhaled sharply as a new flood of tears spilled from my eyes. The wound pulsed with every beat of my unnaturally fast heart rate, and it made me sick to my stomach, like I might throw up. I was sweating and shivering all over, hiccuping with barely-controlled wheezing gasps for breath. Even the tips of my flight feathers were trembling.
I felt a touch near the wound and I would have jerked away if Iâd had the energy, but I couldnât. The thought of that metal touching me again was almost too much, but luckily the touch was much softer than white hot metal. It took several moments of flinching pain for me to realize that one of the men was smearing a salve on the brand wound. Probably something to keep the infection away, hopefully some kind of numbing agent. Either way, every time the cloth met my back, it was a painful jolt to my nervous system.
I closed my eyes and put my forehead against the cold marble, shuddering softly and shaking with sobs, but not wholly because of the pain. I was branded now. Like fucking chattel. A permanent mark, a reminder.
Someone grabbed a fist full of my hair, yanking my head up to face them. I pried my eyes open to see Siskoâs smug, unbothered face grinning back at me.
âDonât worry. It looks lovely,â he told me. Then, his smile broadened as he said, âAnd now everyone knows youâre mine, bird.â
#eheheheheh#ya love to see it#oc avi#oc sisko#whump#whump writing#pet whump#nonhuman whump#collars#creepy whumper#manhandling#branding#dehumanization#marki writes#volitation#there are four people who know the context but its okay#whump stuff#ask to tag#torture#mute whumpee
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I just found read your crossroads fic over on Ao3, and damn sweetheart, I am in LOVE with this classy mob styled version of Overhaul you have going on. The smut in that last chapter was abso-fucking-lutely to die for! But I really need to know something about his character in this story. He was obviously a virgin, but r there any specific kinks heâs been thinking about or planning on trying with her?
*blush* THANK YOU!!! Â You can blame my good friend and favorite Kai fanfic author @inorganicone2230 Theyâre the one that spurred me into having the idea for this fic and then (like theyâve done with all my bnha fics) encouraged me to write it and brainstormed with me.
Yes, Kai was a virgin. Though his skill level might test some folks suspension of disbelief (something I try not to do too much in my fics, even though I write mostly fantasy).
Kaiâs kinks in this fic might be fairly tame by our standards.  But it is a 1920âČs era au fic.  Donât really know if theyâre kinks; but Kai would love to spank Maya then bend her over his desk andâŠ
...so I donât know if you saw my post. Â But I decided to do a short smutty scenario thanks/inspired by this ask. Â So here you go. Â Sorry itâs so short. Â Between having my âpoison juiceâ (aka infusion) last Friday and unexpected visitors yesterday and the day before Iâve been kinda wiped.
FYI this little scene would take place after things settled a bit from the last and (eventual) upcoming chapter.
WARNINGS: spanking, non-con, creampie, cockwarming;Â Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers. Â For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).
Promised Pleasure
Removing his dust mask as Maya entered his office, Kai frowned at her attire. âThatâs not what I told you to wear today.â
Mayaâs shoulders tensed. Â She foolishly hadnât expected her choice of clothes to be an issue. Â She should've known better. Â Still, her pride wouldnât let her apologize. Â And she knew Kai would sniff out any lie.
Deciding a gently put truth was best, she stepped further in his office. Â âI felt like wearing this.â
Kaiâs golden eyes narrowed. Â She was testing boundaries again. Â And her testing was trying his temper. Â âClose the door please, my Dear.â
Despite the politeness of the ask, a shiver ran up Mayaâs spine. Â Mouth suddenly dry, she turned and closed the door with a shaky hand.
âLock it.â Â Kai ordered, voice taking on a twinge of sharpness. Â He had called her in here hoping for a nice diversion. Â But with his beautiful girl acting so spiteful he would have to resign himself to giving her a lesson.
Mayaâs hand paused on the door. Â The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
âMaya. Lock the door, Darling. Â You know how I dislike repeating myself.â
The slow scrape of the lock setting in place deafened Maya to everything but her ragged breathing and thundering heart. Â She didnât hear Kaiâs next words. Â So when she turned back around, it was to find him looking more annoyed then ever.
Smothering her nerves, Maya met Kaiâs piercing gaze head on. Â âIâm sorry. Did you say something?â
Unlacing his fingers, Kai sat back. Â âI told you to come here. Â This is the second time Iâve had to repeat myself. Â I wonât do so again.â
Maya shuffled hesitantly toward Kaiâs desk.
Kai pushed back and slightly turned the chair he was sitting in. Â âThis side. Â Come around near me.â
She moved around the desk, stopping a couple paces from his spread legs. Skin prickling under the caress of his roving gaze, her breath caught glimpsing the bulge in his pants.
At least Kai always brought her pleasure. Â Unlike the disgusting landlord who had used her and left without care or glance after. Â Kai always made her feel special. Â Beautiful. Â Loved. Â In those moments of heated bliss she lost herself and forgot she was doing this solely for justice for her brother. Â Basking in Kaiâs twisted affection and the delightful pleasure he gave sheâd start to believe she truly cared for him in return. Â That they could make something of this. Â Possibly enter a real relationship that wouldnât end when he did as he promised and saw those who killed her brother put down.
Maya stared at the tailored suit jacket hanging over the back of Kaiâs chair. Â Anything to avoid seeing the twitching cock in his pants.
âWhy donât you serve me some water and unbutton my vest for me, Sweetheart.â
It wasnât a question, or even a suggestion. Â Maya knew well enough it was an order. Â But with Kaiâs honeyed tone and adoring gaze it was easy to trick her mind into believing there would be no consequences for disobedience.
Turning over a heavy tumbler that sat on a silver tray at the end of his desk, she took up the crystal carafe and poured. Â Setting the glass in front of him, her fidgeting hands fell to her side, smoothing her skirt.
Her delay in following his second commend had Kai rising to his feet. Maya stepped back even as she hurriedly reached for his vest, seeking to rectify the offense. Â Kai grabbed her wrist before she touched him.
Maya grimaced at the too tight grip. Â âIâm sorry. Â I--â
Kai pulled her roughly against him. Â Maya stumbled, heels catching on the plush area rug. Â She fell against his chest. Â His expensive cologne assaulted her nose. Â She loved the smell but hated smelling it as she only got a whiff when Kai had her in his space.
Suddenly gentle, Kaiâs strong arms steadied her. Â âCareful, Sweetheart. We donât want you hurting yourself.â Â He caressed her cheek, brushing the hair out of her face with a tenderness that didnât match the blazing fire in his amber eyes.
Maya held perfectly still, struggling not to flinch. The way Kai flipped from loving and sweet to caustic and hurtful on a penny dime was what frightened her most about him.
Smiling, Kaiâs head dipped. Â âYouâre so beautiful, Darling. Â So soft and beautiful.â
His tender lips graced hers in a chaste kiss. Â Mayaâs lashes fluttered closed accepting the kiss, thinking she had escaped his anger. Â Her body jerked at a sudden tug. Â The sound of something ripping rang out in the room. Â A sudden cold strike of air hit her front torso pebbling her nipples.
Mayaâs eyes shot open with a gasping cry. Â Kai had rent her blouse and camisole open.
âIf you refuse to wear what I tell you to. Â Maybe you should be left with nothing to wear at all.â
âKai⊠Iâm--â
Kai cupped her cheek. Â âI donât want to hear it, Sweetheart. Â You apologize and apologize but keep on going astray from the clear, defined rules Iâve set. Â My love for you has seen me be more than patient. Â But Iâm afraid my patience has come to an end.â
Maya stumbled again, her world spinning as she was quickly turned and shoved down against the desk. Â The glass of water she served slid off the surface and fell to the floor. Â Itâs crash accentuated Mayaâs surprised cry. Â Mind reeling, she didnât feel the splash of water soak her hose.
âKaâah!â She broke off with a scream, senses assaulted by the sound of her tearing skirt. Â The cold hard desk against her breast and torso and Kaiâs painful grip on the back of her neck. Â Her nose burned, eyes watering from the lingering smell cleaner that clung to the polished surface.
Hand still holding her down, Kai dropped her ruined skirt. Â His freed hand slid over the silky slip she worn. Â So soft, he mused. Â But not anywhere as soft as the flesh beneath. Â That covering was pulled down along with her panties.
âKai! What are you--â Â Maya broke off with another shouted cry.
The crack of his hand hitting her ass echoed about the room. Â Mayaâs back arched at the blooming fire but was roughly pushed back down against the desk.
âStay, my Love. Â You wouldnât want to upset me further and earn yourself another lesson after this.â
Wiping tears from her eyes, Maya tried to look back at him. Â For a moment she swore she saw a horrid bird-like beast in place of her handsome tormentor. Â But the monstrous vision was gone quicker than she could blink.
âLeâleâlesson?â She stammered.
âFor continually testing your bounds.â Â Kai leaned forward, low rasp tickling her ear. Â âIâm afraid this will hurt, my Dear. Â But know, that it will hurt me to do it more than itâll hurt you.â
Ass still stinging from the first spank Maya doubted that. Â By the third strike she was certain Kai enjoyed it and was glad for the chance to discipline her supposed disobedience. Â Confirmation of his delight came when he paused after the fourth hit and ran a hand over her blazing butt-cheeks.
Kaiâs fingers traced the red marks, trailing over the rising welts. Â He loved Mayaâs perfect, soft skin. Â But there was a possessive pride in seeing her flesh temporarily marred by the work of his hand. Â It sparked something primal in him, turning his tender caress into a rough, digging grope. Â She was beautiful, his beloved. Â A perfect little darling that would fit so well beside him in the new wholesome world he was working to usher in. Â Or at least she would be once she learned to listen and obey without hesitance or question.
No one but him could touch her.  Certainly no one else was allowed to see her in such a weakened and debauched state.  Kai growled at the thought, fingers digging into the meat of her ass.  He would gouge the persons eyes out.  Cut out their tongue, and break their knees and fingers.  Then grant them a slow, painful death for having seen his darling like this.  Because this⊠ His other hand loosened and trailed down her neck, slinking around her side to cup her breast, reveling in the weight as she lifted a bit thinking they were done.  ...this was for him, and him alone.  His throbbing dick ground against her raw ass.
Mayaâs lips pressed together between clenched teeth, biting back a cry at the burning pain. Â Halfway into righting herself her back bumped Kaiâs chest.
Weight rested on his hand planted to her side on the desk, Kaiâs chin hooked over her shoulder. Â âThink youâve learned your lesson, Beautiful?â
Breast heaving with a shuddering breath, Maya nodded.
âDoesnât appear so. Â You know how I prefer worded responses.â
âYes!â Maya expelled. Â âYes. Â Iâve learned my lesson. Â Please, Kai. Iâm sorry. Â So very sorry. Â It wonât ever happen again.â
Kaiâs knuckles glided down her back. Â Other hand gripping her hip he pulled her blistered ass against his leaking erection. Â âWhy donât we test that? Â Bend over, Sweetheart.â Â Annoyed as he was by her hesitance, he smiled lightly. Â âEither you havenât learned your lesson. Â Or liked it so much you want another.â
Before Maya could respond she was pushed and held down on the desk. Â Her eyes shot wide at the resounding spank. Â Fresh tears sprang from her eyes as they squeezed shut at the sharp boiling pain. Â âKai! Please! Â Iâm--â
Another hit landed. Â Then another.
Kai stopped after the tenth. Â Staring down at her trembling frame he had a moments regret. Â He should have made her count. Â Next time, he told himself.
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest.  Amber eyes skimmed over his handy work.  Just when he thought she couldnât be more beautiful⊠ Even her mix of drool and tears puddled on the desk were lovely.
Lost in the consuming tumble of dull thudding pain accentuated by sharp stinging bursts, Maya didnât hear the jangle of Kaiâs belt being undone. Â She jolted at his hand slipping between her legs. Whimpering as his prodding fingers dragging through her folds.
Kai frowned at the minimal moisture. Â Usually Maya got so wet for him. It wounded and upset him. Â But before those emotions could take root his eyes drifted back to the pool of saliva on his desk. Â His heart lightened. Â Even with her punishment his darling had thought of him and his needs. Â Proving she loved him as much as he loved her.
He leaned over her and kissed her tear-stained cheek. Â âThank you, my Dear. Â Youâre so sweet and good for me.â
Mayaâs lashes fluttered. Â She watched Kaiâs hand trail through her drool, gathering it.
Bringing his wet hand to his freed length, Kai slathered her saliva over his shaft. Â He grimaced, skin prickling with the beginnings of a inch. But soothed himself that was Maya. Â She was clean. Â Worthy. Â His.
Itâs like indirect oral, he thought with a steadying breath. Â The prickling itch diminished then fully disappeared as he focused on Maya, pumping his fist to fully wet his cock.
Lining up his cock he leaned back over her and kissed her shoulder. Â âYouâve had youâre punishment, Darling. Â And you took it so well. Â Now, let me remind you of my love and the pleasure I can give.â
Mayaâs shining eyes flicked to Kaiâs. Â Her brow furrowed. Â Was it the light? Â Or was there a dim otherworldly glow in those honeyed depths? The image of the demon Dabiâs bright burning eyes flashed through her mind. Â But it vanished in an instant from the breach of Kaiâs fat cock head. Â She would've cried out at the burning stretch if her breath hadnât seized in her lungs.
Kai hissed at the pull of his sensitive skin. Â Mayaâs drool helped. But it didnât provide the smooth silky glide her delicious arousal did. Â Wanting the discomfort over with he snapped his hips flush against her, driving his length in her tight hole.
Fully sheathed, Kai slowly exhaled. Â His eyes closed, head rolling back. Taking a moment to simply feel, he basked in her velvety embrace. Â This would never get old. Slipping his aching cock into Mayaâs perfect, tight pussy. Â Feeling her walls stretch to make room for him then flutter as they adjusted to his penetrating presence was something that consumed his thoughts; just like everything else about her.
Maya mewled the most pitiful whine beneath him and Kai lost it. Â His darling was just so sweet. Â So beautiful. Â So helpless.
His hips pulled back and slammed right back against her.
If asked, Maya wouldnât have been able to say if her scream was from the hard thrust or Kaiâs pelvis pounding into her blazing red backside.
Her back arched, lifting her off the desk.
One hand gripping her hip, Kaiâs other hand grabbed the back of Mayaâs neck and shoved her back down. Â Never once did his ramming thrusts stop.
The once dulling pain of Mayaâs welted ass sharpened again.  Fresh tears seeped from her eyes.  Kai had lied.  He had said she had her punishment.  The pain was suppose to be over.  But every thrust was just another spank.  UntilâŠ
Kaiâs feet shifted. Â Angling his hips he hit that spot in her that had her seeing stars.
Pleasure mixed with the pain. Â The rough scrape of his trousers zipper didnât hurt as badly. Â Even the occasional jab of his belts buckle didnât make her want to crawl up and die.
Kai almost reached around to finger her clit. Â But an idea struck him. It was scandalous. Â But so was fucking his darling over his desk. Â He groaned, cock twitching at the thought. Â His pace sped seeking his own release without a care for hers.
Maya rocked against the desk. Â Her hips started to push back against him despite the blazing pain to her ass. Â A different kind of heat pooled in her belly. Â But just as the coil started to tighten another warmth filled her.
Kai thrust deep inside Maya, cock coming alive. Â He grunted, pushing his hips firmly against her, driving her against the desk, seeking to get even deeper as hot ropes of cum spit from his pulsing cock.
Building orgasm lost, Maya deflated atop the desk. Â Her nails clawed at the polished surface, hands balling into weak fists. Â Though grateful it was over, she couldnât help but be bit bitter about Kaiâs second lie. Â â...let me remind you of my love and the pleasure I can give.â Yes, she had felt some pleasure. Â But she hadnât gotten her full pleasure.
She waited for Kai to pull out. Â When he didnât she looked back at him.
Kai greeted her with a smug smile. Â âYou didnât cum. Â Did you?â
Mayaâs mouth fell open.
Before she could respond, her torso was pulled up off the desk. Â Heated as his skin was through his button-up shirt, Maya shivered the instant her back touched his chest.
Kaiâs arms wrapped around her. Â He held her firmly against him, keeping his cock snugly inside her. Â His lips brushed the shell of her ear. âDid you think I forgot about my promise, Sweetheart? Â I said I was going to remind you of the pleasure I can give.â
Keeping her glued against him, Kai retook his seat. Â Head a whirl of confusion, Maya barely grimaced at the discomfort of his softening cock shifting inside her. Â The heated pain of her abused butt numbed by her racing mind trying to figure out what Kai was doing.
Soon enough she got her answer and wished she never had.
âIâm a man of man word, my Love. Â What do you say you keep me warm while I do some work? Â Then I can give you that promised pleasure.â
After this, Kai might develop a breeding kink to go with spanking, rough office sex, and cokwarming.
Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.
Thank you all for being so patient with me and the posting of this fic. Special thanks to Anon for the ask and inspiring this one shot. And as always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230â for being the best fellow writer friend (and friend in general) and encouraging and brainstorming with me. I mean it when I say I wouldâve given up posting long ago if it wasnât for your support.
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Fluffy February Day 1 - Fishing
Howdy folks! Iâm taking part in the Fallout Fluffy February prompt list this month, hosted by @fluffyfebruary
Every day of this month Iâll be posting my finished prompts under the community tag #fluffyfebruary and on my own blog as #fluffyfeb. Iâll also be cross posting to Ao3, which Iâll link to in each post - so feel free to follow me over there, too!
Chapter 1: A Fisher of Men
Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer
Summary: Jamie takes Butch out on the Potomac for a fishing trip in the same spot his father had taken him a year prior. What seems to be an uneventful few hours turns into anything but when they find a monster on the other end of their line. Takes place after the events of Broken Steel.
Ao3 Link
âThis is fucking boring.â
Jamie shoots Butch an irritated look from where heâs sitting across from the other man in the canoe, his brows drawn together as he tries his damnedest to untangle his fishing line from the third piece of driftwood heâs âcaughtâ that day.
âNo shit,â he grumbles, spitting out some mud as he tries to break the line off the wood with his teeth. He lets out a frustrated huff, gripping his rod in both hands as he raises it up and fights the urge to just chuck the whole damn thing into the Potomac. He hears Butch snicker, and he whips his head up.
âYouâre like a goddamn feral,â Butch teases with a laugh, reaching over and snatching the rod from Jamieâs grip. He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open and carefully beginning to cut the line away from where itâs tangled in the driftwood to try and save as much of it as he can.
He kicks his boots playfully against Jamieâs sneakers, noticing how the canvas high-tops are completely soaked through from the puddle of water theyâd managed to slosh into the canoe earlier as they tried ungracefully to board it from the shore. He just shakes his head, a smile on his face, knowing that if he brings up the topic of appropriate footwear to the younger man itâll just earn him a bruised shoulder.
âThis was supposed to be like⊠meditative or some shit,â Jamie says with a sigh. He rubs his hands over his freckled face and ruffles some of the dust out of his sun-warmed hair. Butch just gives him an incredulous look.
âWhere the hell did you get that idea from?â He finishes cutting the driftwood free and tosses it behind him into their small pile of âcatchesâ â which is really just a collection of junk at this point â before reattaching the hook and bobber and handing the rod back to the other man. He leans over and grabs his own fishing pole, squinting against the reflective ripples in the water to check on his bobber. Still absolutely no bites.
Jamie shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. âI dunno,â he admits. He reaches back into the salvaged can of cram they were using as bait, tears a chunk out, and works on preparing his hook again. Not like it matters much, he tells himself. He can continue to go through the motions perfectly and not catch a single thing. A little bit like everything else in his life, he thinks bitterly. His fucking bad luck.
After a moment of silence, Jamie continues. âApparently my family came from a long line of fishermen on my dadâs side. He passed down some stories about it. Told me they were tradition or something.â Jamie shrugs. âAnyway, he taught me that you were sâposed to reflect on yourself out here. Get some peace and quiet.â Jamie finally says. He sucks the excess cram off his fingers, his tongue burning at the sudden saltiness, and casts his line out again, his bobber floating a few feet from Butchâs. Butch looks up at him, snapped out of his own thoughts.
âHuh⊠like, Wasteland fisherman?â Butch asks, deliberately choosing not to tell him how he thinks the whole âpeace and quietâ schtick is a load of brahmin shit and instead focusing on the first part of what he said. Heâs always intrigued whenever Jamie tells him about his family, at least after theyâd learned that he wasnât born in the vault. The idea of generations of Arroyoâs managing to survive out here long enough to pop out the rascally kid he sits across from kind of amazes him. He sets his fishing pole back down against the side of the canoe, sure that it would be fine â he hasnât gotten a single nibble in the past three hours.
âNah. Iâm sure some of them mightâve been, but we donât really know much about closer generations of my family. We only really knew about some of my prewar family â something about some records my dadâs dad had kept on his terminals after searching our surname through databases in some place that used to process immigrations, or some shit. The occupation listed there was fisherman, apparently.â Jamie finishes and Butch hums thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Jamieâs granddad might have looked like.
Jamie winces when he thinks of his dad and has to shake the thoughts from his head. As if his face reflecting back at him from the clear surface of the clean water isnât enough of a reminder of what heâs lost of his family and himself to of Project Purity â he looks like his own fatherâs ghost and even carries his name.
Butchâs fishing pole snapping against the side of the boat brings him back out of his thoughts, and he flinches back away from the canoeâs edge, the quick motion causing him to almost tumble out the other side as the boat sways dangerously.
âI got one!â Butch practically shouts and lunges for the pole, straddling the seat of the canoe and bracing his legs against the floor as he begins an awkward tug-of-war match with whatever is on the other end of his line. Jamie perks up with a huge grin on his face, all thoughts of his troubles momentarily forgotten, and hovers over Butch nervously.
âMake sure you donât reel in when heâs pulling on the line! And try to give it some slack!â Jamie parrots what his father had taught him on their one and only fishing trip in the Wastes months back and digs around in their mess of a canoe for the rickety net they brought with them. Butch just gives an annoyed grunt, his face crinkled in concentration as he pulls on the line.
âThis bastard is fuckinâ heavy!â He complains, giving the rod a yank that rocks their canoe again. Whatever they have hooked is pulling them ever so slightly to the opposite shore and splashing like crazy beneath the water.
âScoot,â Jamie orders. He tosses the net aside â itâs obvious that whateverâs on the other side of the line wonât fit in it now - and moves on unsteady legs to sit behind Butch, reaching his arms around the other manâs waist and grabbing the fishing pole to help him pull. What the hell are they dealing with here?
By the time they begin to make some progress in reeling the fish in, theyâre about halfway to the shore and completely out of breath. Butch laughs hysterically between pulls, his eyes squeezed shut in glee, and Jamie canât help but laugh in return. His palms are sweaty, his white-knuckle grip on the fishing pole beginning to slip.
âIs it trying to pull us out of the water?!â Butch says suddenly, elbowing Jamie to look at the swiftly approaching shore. Theyâre hauling ass at this point, almost as if⊠whatever they hooked had suddenly caught some footing in the shallower water. Jamieâs eyes widen and he immediately lets go of the pole to root around in their bags. As he does, Butch careens forward from the sudden lack of support and just barely catches himself with his elbows against the edge of the canoe. He curses, âCHRIST, Nosebleed! Some warning next time!â
Jamie has only just gotten his hands on Butchâs shotgun when they finally catch a glimpse of their âfishâ as it breaks the surface of the water. At this point, theyâve reeled it in pretty close and the wake left behind the huge creature emerging from the stagnant part of the river capsizes their canoe just as they crash into the sandy shore.
With a chorus of yells both men topple over into the shallows. Jamie squeezes his eyes shut and lands on his back with a thud, his arms stretched up over his head holding the shotgun out of the river. The water feels like a cold slap to his face, and he comes back up gasping for air. He looks over to where Butch has landed hard on his ass, noting that the fishing pole is being tugged out of his hands and quickly away from him. He looks and sees the fruits of their labor â an albino Mirelurk with the fishing line wrapped around one claw.
âMIRELURK!â Butch yells, scrambling to his feet and running over to Jamie. He pulls the other man up and grabs the shotgun from him just as the Mirelurk turns toward them and begins clambering over the old canoe that groans and splinters beneath its weight.
âShoot it! Shoot it!â Jamie practically shrieks and pushes against Butchâs arm, urging him to hurry when the Mirelurk picks up speed and barrels toward them. Butch nods and fights the urge to run, taking a breath and bracing for the recoil as he lines up his shot. Jamie flinches when he hears the crack! of the rounds exploding from the gun and shattering the vulnerable part of the Mirelurkâs fragile front shell. His ears ring from the close proximity of the shot and he grimaces, about to cover them until he realizes the monster is still running full speed toward them. Shit!
He grabs Butch and tackles him to the ground, shoving them out of the way as the huge, mutated crab stumbles past them at an alarming speed and crashes hard into the shore. It lies there face-first in a mound in the sand and they watch it with wild eyes from their position on the ground, ready to book it at any hint of movement, but itâs motionless and quiet â dead.
Jamie rolls off of Butch and flops down next to him, both of them looking up at the endless expanse of bright blue sky as they struggle to catch their breaths.
âStill think fishing is boring?â Jamie snaps and Butch begins to laugh again, the sound starting as a snort and bubbling slowly from his chest before heâs full-on wheezing with laughter. Jamie sits up and looks down at him like heâs insane.
âWhat about this was funny?!â He asks, shaking Butchâs shoulder. He canât help but return the grin, though. Seeing Butch happy always manages to make him smile. Butch wipes his hand down his face as he sits up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He reaches down to pull Jamie up with him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.
Jamieâs ears suddenly feel hot as he watches Butch, noticing the endearing gap between his two front teeth and the splash of sun freckles over his now sand-dusted face. He swallows, his heart racing. âWhat?â He repeats again, his throat dry.
âI caught a motherfucking fish.â Butch beams even more and looks incredibly proud of himself as they turn and walk over to his âcatch.â He kicks it with the toe of his boot a few times just to ease his own worries of it springing back to life.
âItâs not a fish! Itâs a crab, theyâre different.â Jamie argues and crouches down, grabbing the edge of the Mirelurkâs shell with Butch as they flip it over with a heave. Jamie doesnât mention that technically he did catch it with a fishing pole, and that technically they are going to have it for dinner. He doesnât want to give Butch the satisfaction, especially considering the only thing he got out of this trip is his collection of stones and driftwood that was currently crushed under their broken canoe.
âIt counts.â Butch says, the grin still plastered on his face. He pulls a combat knife out of a holster on his belt and settles down on his knees in the sand, tapping the sharp edge of it against the shell. âLook at this bad boy. You ever see a white one before?â
âItâs an albino, I guess.â Jamie says, leaning close to inspect it. He lifts the claw thatâs tangled in their fishing line. âWhat a mess, we arenât salvaging this.â He drops it back into the sand with a thud.
âThe fuckâs an albino?â Butch asks as he cuts into their prize, grimacing and holding back a gag as he begins to butcher it. Mirelurk is good meat, but it reeks when itâs fresh.
âYou know, like that one story Brotch made us read in like 8th grade, Moby Dick? It was about that sea captain and the giant albino whale.â Jamie snickers and walks the few paces back to their canoe. He flips it right-side-up with some effort and drags their valuables out of the muddy water, clicking his tongue in disappointment when he notices their bags are completely soaked through. âYouâre lucky he didnât eat your leg.â He teases.
Butch looks back at him and pouts, blowing a messy curl of his hair out of his eyes. âYeah, I never read anything olâ Brotch assigned. Waste of time. Like it wouldâve taught me anything useful out here.â He grumbles.
Jamie laughs and drops their stuff next to a rock outcropping near their canoe. It looks like it would provide some decent shelter against the wind and by the looks of their soaking clothes and supplies, theyâll have to stay the night unless they want to catch hypothermia. âMaybe it couldâve taught ya how to catch a real fish.â
âIt still counts as a catch!â Butch whines.
âItâs not a fish.â Jamie shoots back in a sing-song voice, biting his tongue to hold back the huge grin that threatens to break through. Butch jumps up from what heâs doing and turns to him, his face red, but mirroring the same smile that Jamie is trying so hard to hold back.
âIt. Counts.â Butch grits between clenched teeth puts his combat knife away, buttoning the sheathe into place against his hip. They stare at each other for a moment, their eyes locked in a staring match. Jamieâs grin finally breaks free.
âDoes no-âhe cuts himself off with a yelp as Butch lunges for him playfully. He laughs so hard he thinks his chest might burst as he takes off in a run down the beach, Butch hot on his heels as he begins to chase him.
He knows Butchâs legs are much longer than his, but he can hold his own â at least for a little while. And even though the inevitable ending is Butch catching him in a tackle, he canât say he doesnât enjoy it. Itâs something theyâve done since they were boys stumbling around in the grey fluorescence of the vault, constantly finding their way back to each other like it was fate, and it feels like home.
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Dabi x SelfHarm!/Depressed Reader
Alright, Love Bugs...hereâs the one I have been working extremely hard on. Iâm a recovering self harmer and I just wanted to give other people like me and how I used to be some extra love. I hope this helps just one person and I will feel like posting this was worth it. Dabi is himself one this, but heâs actually trying to comfort the reader. When I was cutting, sometimes all I wanted was just someone to talk to and a friend. Iâve had people get mad at me for going to them and literally voicing how ashamed they were. This creation stems from that and I hope it helps. If you really need help, please reach out for it. @kericacathouse I hope you donât mind me tagging you, I know you wanted to read it. And please let me know as a fellow person that has had trouble.
Pairing: Dabi x SelfHarm!/Depressed Reader
TRIGGERS: Self harm in the form of cutting is described explicitly and the feelings I have felt related to it are described. This may seriously trigger you and I donât want anyone to have a relapse, please. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! Iâm trying to help, not make it worse!
WARNING: Self-Harm, Depression, somewhat soft Dabi
The cold metal of a razor blade shakes in your hand as you stare at it. An extreme concoction of buried feelings, long stifled, is bubbling up and you canât bear to swallow them down anymore. Embarrassment, shame, anger, hatred, disgust, sadness, loneliness, wanting to be alone/wanting someone to just be with you, wanting to end it, and just wanting to live your best. Your inner voice ranges from bitter âfailureâs, âstupidâs, âno one caresâ, âtheyâll be happy youâre gone, youâre nothingâ to âjust one more cut...then Iâll stopâ and âitâll feel so goodâ. You can feel the bile rising into your throat slightly. Your hand slowly moves and the cold metal is biting into the delicate skin of your thigh or wrist with precise force behind it. You suddenly jerk it quickly and finish the new addition (and rapidly a few more, it never seems to stop with just one), breath shakily leaving your lips and head slightly falling back. Shame, relief, pleasure, and the familiar stinging floods up along with the crimson liquid rising to the newborn slices. Questions also begin to infiltrate through the haziness of your mind. Why did I do that? Why do I hurt myself? Why does it feel so damn good every single time I possibly might just kill myself? Itâs such a thrill and utterly relieving simultaneously. People could have their alcohol, crack, heroine. This was your drug of choice. Your sweet, yet utterly terrifying addiction.
Youâre still slightly rolling on endorphins when the door to the bathroom pushes open and familiar beautiful and glowing turquoise eyes fall on you. Your partner had needed to relieve himself and was about to tell you to âpiss offâ before he put two and two together. âWhat are you doing?â Heat floods up your spine and then freezes ice cold. You hadnât thought of being caught, only thought of your medicine for dealing with the world. You thought he was mad at first, but the expression on his face was relaxed and he was just normal/usual Dabi, though his eyes seemed to hold a softer gleam.
He moves and plops down against the wall beside you, head tilted back against it with one knee pulled up and his arm resting on it while the other leg stretches out in front of him. Dabi grabs the razor from the floor and glances at you and the metal languidly. âYou shouldnât do this.â His tone still isnât angry and heâs not freaking out an ounce. âI know...Arenât you mad at me?â
âMad? Why would I be mad? Why would I make your pain any worse? You probably feel upset and ashamed enough for the both of us.â You felt the tears well up in your eyes and shook under the weight of your heaving sobs. He actually understands? Dabi frowns and carefully drapes an arm around you. âDonât cry, baby doll. I donât like the water works.â Heâs not being mean and his tone stays quite soft.
You try to reel yourself in and itâs quiet for a moment before he finally speaks up again. âIâm sorry your pain runs this deep. Someone like you should never feel like this is the only answer. I get it though. Once you get started itâs hard to stop and you cling to the relief it gives you.â
âY-you...â
Dabi releases a long sigh before heâs using the arm not around you to point carefully to certain scars under his large ones that you can still see if you look closely enough. âI get it. I really do. But...please donât do this to yourself anymore. A doll face like you should be smiling all the time. You deserve to be happy. And these feelings you feel now are valid too. I get you canât be happy and smiling all the time. This place can be super fucked up, but...if you need someone to rely on and talk to, if you feel like you have no one, I am standing right beside you.â
You glance at him to see heâs already looking at you and staring directly into your eyes. ïżœïżœD-Dabi...â
âCâmon, donât get all gushy on me now,â he teases. âIâm serious though, doll. If you feel like this again, come find me. Call me. Anything. You will never bother me. Fight those demons and live for me. Itâd be a hell of a lot more dull without someone as bright as you around. So, fight it. If you slip up every once in a while, thatâs ok too. It happens. You can tell me that too. Iâm not going to tear into you for it. Itâs absolutely okay to not be okay. Youâll get there. You can recover. Promise me.â
âI...I promise...â It felt as if some heavy weight had been completely pushed off your shoulders. âGood. Now letâs get those cleaned up and get some bandages on you. Then youâre really going to have to get out of here because I have really got to pee. You can go wait in my room or something.â You chuckled softly as he grabbed a few things from the medicine cabinet. He cleaned you up and got you all set before he finally ushered you out of the bathroom and pointed to his room.
There you went and waited. You never thought youâd ever have a best friend like you did in Dabi. He was extremely easy to talk to and always listened to what you had to say. He had even managed to give you a few tight hugs to let you cry it out to him. He always acknowledged how you felt, no matter how fucked up you thought you were for it. He made you feel completely normal and like nothing was wrong. You didnât feel alone. And you actually fit in somewhere. You werenât some freak just because of how you were feeling. And slowly with him, you started to get better and conquer yourself. Sometimes it really is okay to not be okay.
#dabi x reader#dabi x you#warningthisistriggering#depressedreader#itgetsbetter#itsokaytonotbeokay#dabi imagines
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If The World Was Ending 4/?
If The World Was Ending Chapter Four: Los Angeles, Iâm Yours
Read on AO3.
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
âThere is a city by the sea A gentle company I don't suppose you want to?
And as it tells its sorry tale In harrowing detail Its hollowness will haunt you
Its streets and boulevards Orphans and oligarchs A plaintive melody Truncated symphony. An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore Los Angeles, I'm yours...â
~ Los Angeles, I'm Yours - The Decemberists
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
âHey, Buck, itâs me. I just want you to tell Christopher Iâll be a little late picking him up, got our hands full here. Itâs a good thing youâre missing it. Hope you guys are having fun.â
Buck was exhausted and lightheaded, but constantly looking for the boy with curls and a smile bright enough to light up a room. âHey! Thereâs a kid under here!â a woman yelled.
âChristopher?â he exclaims, desperately clinging to any hope that itâs the little boy heâs looking for. âHey! Hey, guys!â He hurries over, water sloshing around his legs and the Chrisâs glasses hanging around his neck. âHey, hey, big guy! Me and you, come on!â A man thatâs almost four inches taller than him (which is impressive since heâs 6â2, hurries to help him. âAll right, three, two, one. Go!â
They lift the heavy sign off the child, and as the others cheer and help them stand up, his hope is crushed when he sees itâs a twelve year old girl, not Christopher. The woman consoles the crying girl and Buck sighs in deep seeded exhaustion.
When someone says they might have seen Christopher at a Cupcakery on Strand, he forgets his fatigue and is moving again. Heâs so wrapped up in wanting to find Chris and already numb, that he doesnât notice that the edge of the sign has cut his arm pretty deeply.
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Tony landed at a gas station, the water having receded, but the debris has done damage to the pumps and some were leaking. After pushing the emergency shut off button, he called it in and put up caution tape heâd snagged from a Home Depot store blocking off the driveway. Hopefully people would stay away, since there was a lot of spilled gas.
âIron Man, thereâs a fire at a Shell Gas Station on West Century Blvd,â he heard a womanâs voice from dispatch. He had just gotten back in the air as the call came in, heading toward the areas still heavily flooded with water. He was about to go put that fire out but saw a little boy in a yellow t-shirt sitting on top a car. âJ, put out that fire out, I have eyes on a child in need of rescuing.â
He swooped down as the boy lifted his eyes to the sky, his small face covered in mud but looking relatively unharmed. Tony landed next to the car, making sure not to land too hard and risk upsetting the water and possibly knocking him over. âHey, buddy,â he said, the faceplate lifting up.
âYouâre Iron Man,â he said with a bright smile that made Tony smile as well.
âI sure am, whatâs your name?â
âIâm not supposed to talk to strangers,â he told him, making Tony grin again. He had an adorable lisp, and it made his heart melt. Despite what they said about him, he liked kids. Itâs just that he feared turning out like Howard and messing up the life of an innocent child that made him never want to become a dad.
âThatâs true and your mom and dad are smart for having taught you that.â He could tell he was having a hard time keeping his head up, and he didnât think it was from fatigue. Maybe a disability.
âMy mom... sheâs gone,â he told Tony with a sad, quiet voice.
âWell, my mom is gone too, and my dad.â He sat on the front of the car, and besides shifting a bit, it didnât move too much under the weight of the armor. âItâs okay to be sad, you know?â The kid nodded, squinting at his face. âHow about this, my name is Tony. Now you know my name, besides being Iron Man. Is it okay to give me your name now? Or your dadâs name?â
âIâm Chris,â he finally said.
âAlright, well, letâs get you to the nearest hospital, Chris. The nice people there will make sure youâre not hurt and get you home, okay?â He reached out and gently picked him up, the kid gripping his shoulders a bit clumsily.
When Tony took to the air, he made sure not to go too fast. If he did, he might hurt Chris and thatâs the last thing he wanted. That meant it was slow going, but it also allowed him to hear Chris as he cried out joyfully at flying.
Tony smiled at his resilience, and was sure Chris was going to be alright.
The man took him to the field hospital theyâd set up at the decommissioned VA hospital on Sawtelle, handing him over to a nurse, who was in charge of the kids; getting their names and the names of their family to reunite them later. âStay strong, kid,â he told him. âIâm sure your dad will find you soon.â
âBye, Tony,â Chris said as he waved at him as he was carried away.
âCute kid,â he hummed, before blasting back into the air despite his tiredness to continue helping more people.
Thatâs how he spent the rest of the day, putting out fires and rescuing anyone that was trapped or stranded, and unfortunately finding a lot of corpses in the water. He hated to move on after tagging them, but there were other, living people that needed him. Tony nearly lost it when he found a drowned infant and he couldnât just leave her, cradling the tiny body in his arms and carrying her to the nearest hospital.
He had to take a break then before he fell apart completely, stepping out of the suit for the first time in several hours. There were several relief workers also taking a break and he sat with them as they welcomed him and tried to hand him some rations. âI uh...â he hesitated, fighting back a full body shudder that went through him as memories of being poisoned as a child filled his head. Heâd taught himself never to take anything that was handed to him ever again. âI donât... like to be handed things,â he finally managed to say.
The woman, a few years older than him, smiled and nodded, setting the rations down on the seat next to him. Tony was grateful, since he usually got derisive looks or sneers from people that thought Tony was just a stuck up rich person. The womanâs eyes were kind, and maybe she saw that it was from a trauma, or maybe she didnât. He was just grateful when she made no comment.
After a moment, he grabbed the rations and the bottle of lukewarm water. It wasnât the worst thing heâd eaten, so he scarfed down the dry protein bar and chugged the bottle of water. The sun was starting to sink as they shot the breeze, Tony making a note to set up a relief fund for not only the people affected by the tsunami, but also the ones working tirelessly to help those in need.
It was almost half an hour after sunset that he stood and bade them farewell, stepping into his suit and going off to help once again. He was sore and exhausted, but there were so many people still out there that needed someone. If he had to, heâd be that someone. Although, he figured after an hour or two heâd take a longer break, and maybe drop by Evanâs house to finally reassure himself of his safety.
As he was flying over Oceanside, he heard Captain Nash calling for medical transportation for 17 people, recognizing his voice almost immediately. He wouldnât be able to carry that many, but maybe he could help. As he touched down, he scanned the area and immediately saw the downed light post, sparks flying from it, and even more alarming is when JARVIS indicated the leaking gasoline truck. Bobby immediately hurried over to him as soon as he landed. âTony, we could really use your help,â the man says.
He wasnât sure what he could do to help, but he could see the strain on his face, both from worry and fatigue from a long day working, so Tony would do what he could. âIf itâs within my capabilities, then Iâll do what I can, Cap,â he told him. The man usually liked to work on his own if he wasnât with Rhodey, the Avengers having been a one hit wonder that hadnât panned anything. After all, no one had come to help him when the Mandarin had destroyed his house and heâd been presumed dead. However, it was different with Nash and his people. They all looked dirty and tired, having been working all day. The crew of the 118, and a lot more other rescue personnel had been working tirelessly to save people, and heâd be damned if he wasnât going to help them when they asked for his help. He motioned toward the light post. âI imagine it has to do with that Sword of Damocles over there? And the truck leaking gasoline?â
Bobby was momentarily surprised, but shook it off before he nodded. âYes... you know, one of my men called it just that.â
Tony smirked. âIâll have to meet him when we arenât sitting on a potential explosion that could kill everyone here.â
The Captain nodded. âWell, Iâve sent two of my firefighters to acquire some vehicles, but I would feel so much better if the gasoline could possibly be neutralized.â
His mind was going a mile of minute, wondering if it would be better to douse the gasoline with kitty litter, or try and move the lamp post up and out of the way. Tony must have been talking out loud without realizing it, meaning he was more tired than he thought.
âWait, are you sure you wonât get electrocuted?â Bobby knew the man was a superhero, and had faced many dangers, which included terrorists and even aliens. However, he wasnât invincible, and he was just as human as Bobby was underneath his high-tech suit.
âNot to worry, Cap my suit once took a hit from Thorâs lighting and Iâm still here. Iâve had 36 suit upgrades since then,â he said with a smile. âIâm sure Iâll be fine.â
âFamous last words,â the man said with a strained smile.
âBobby, are you making a joke about my possible potential death?â he asked with mock shock, then gave him a wink as the face plate snapped closed before the man could respond. He flew toward the lamp post, grunting as he felt the shock of the electricity surge through the suit. It wasnât as bad as when Thor had blasted him, but it was constant until he lifted the lamp post and away a bit.
âPower at four hundred percent capacity,â JARVIS intoned like deja vu.
Tony chuckled as he moved away from the light post, the thrusters in his boots keeping him in the air and not touching the gasoline that had already spread this far. He gave the thrusters more power as he went higher into the air. âJ, give me the location of the nearest pet shop.â Tony figured that the best thing to do was bury it in non-flammable kitty litter and hope for the best.
âAlright, Cap, Iâve bought you some time, but try and hurry your men,â he told him over the frequency. He hadnât seen Diaz among them, so perhaps he was one of the ones that had gone to get some form of transportation.
He flew there as fast as he could, knowing the others were on borrowed time. The window of the PetSmart he arrived at had itâs glass doors still intact. âRemind me to pay for these doors, J,â he said as he crashed through them in a rain of glass shards and metal. He went to the catâs section, and the lights were out but he had flood lights on his suit, and night vision on his HUD. Tony yanked a shopping cart along and started to pile inside several bags of kitty litter, as much as would fit inside the cart. He rolled it outside and then hurried over next door to the hardware store,. âI hope they donât try to arrest me for looting.â He grabbed two tubes of sealant that he put in a bag and dumped it into the shopping cart, making another note to pay for everything he was taking. âNext time Iâm going to aim for a Samâs or a Costco,â he sighed, lifting the cart.
It was harder to fly back at high speeds without losing the kitty liter, but he managed without dropping a single bag. He cursed when he saw that the lamp post had fallen despite his best efforts, the sparks making the gasoline catch fire, and he dropped the cart. Tony didnât want to move the post again, so he grabbed one of the ten pounds bags and tore it open before he upended it over the flames. This particular brand was made from bentonite clay, which meant it wasnât flammable. He managed to douse the flames with a second and third bag, but to make sure it didnât catch fire anytime soon, he used every single bag to spread it over most of the area around the lamp post. He also got the sealant and after managing to lift the truck at an angle where the gas wasnât spilling, used both tubes of the white plaster like sealant so make sure no more would spill. When that was done and he carefully set it back down, waited a moment to make sure it wasnât still spilling, and then used the caution tape someone had left behind to wrap around the whole area. Just to be sure.
He saw the firefighters of the 118 loading the patients into what appeared to be mail trucks and was amused. âAlright, Cap, threat neutralized for now, but I suggest you double time it out of here,â he told him. He knew that neither he or Bobby were military, but he remembered that the guy with the nametag Diaz had a military bearing to his movements. If he hadnât served, then heâd eat his own helmet.
âThank you for your help, Iron Man,â he radioed back.
âNeither rain, nor snow, nor tsunami, Captain Nash,â he joked.
He heard a groan on the other end. âI hope you and Chimney never meet and become friends,â a womanâs voice said over the radio.
Tony chuckled to himself as he continued on. As he went over the city where no lights were on except the occasional fire, he felt his eyesight go dark. If it wasnât for JARVIS taking over, heâd have crashed, and as it was, he was disoriented as he came back around, and realized that heâd fallen asleep mid-flight.
Well, he guessed it was time for that break he promised himself, and changed course toward Evanâs house. Tony didnât have many actual friends, since people always wanted him for either money, fame, or in the case of Sunset, to steal SI prototypes. So, wanted to make sure one of the few friends he had was fine, since he wouldnât deny that heâd been thinking about him ever since this morning.
So, he was looking forward to seeing his friend face to face after all these years.-
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